Rearden
ArboristSite Operative
I forgot to mention our first encounter. He came on site tellin' me that his father-in-law had told him that I wanted to hire him. I corrected him and said that I didn't want or need help, but because his F-I-L was a friend of mine and I pitied the poor bastard (single dad with three sons under 15, and his 17 year old daughter married to this and pro-creatin'), that I would try and make a spot for him. Then when I began to address the attire and body adornments he started gettin' pretty hot. Twice he actually said eff this and walked away (apparently a little too stoned to remember that his boy had dumped him off and run)...over not being permitted to wear tennis shoes and dangling crap hooked to his head. In hindsight I'd have probably done the world and my friend a huge favor if I'd just let him get wound up in a saw or drug trough the power feeder one day... but then I've got all that black and blue fuzz and stuff smeared all over everything, gotta re-plane the wood to get all the gut stains out and , ...I dunno, I guess I was just feelin' a little lazy. Probably a contact high from standing too close to him. :confused2:
Oh yeah, and when he got there he came rollin' out'a one'a his boyz little Jap cars with the fart muffler and the NHRA 6' spoiler on the back, in a cloud 'a weed smoke. Pants draggin' down around the crack of his ass, new flat brimmed ball cap on sideways and a hoodie that looked about two sizes too big (it was probably in the 30's that day and the wind was pretty steady). I did have some fun with him though (might have had a part to play in why his self esteem was so sensitive). First I hooked my carabiner of keys through the ring in his ear lobe and told him he could be my key box since he wasn't fit for anything else. He was to follow me around all day and keep my keys handy just in case. Hey... I've got memory issues. Anyway, the keys probably weighed about a pound (I actually dug every key I could find in my truck out just to add to it), and after just a little while he decided that he really wasn't all that dedicated to stretchin' his ear lobes to the floor one at a time (he kept whinin' somethin' about it hurtin', so I had to just try and keep a saw runnin'. :msp_wink:
The droopy drawers that he favored, I explained to him the history of that little fashion statement and he eventually took it upon himself to tie them up with a piece of cord. For those of you who don't know, this is an urban culture thing. In prison, where roughly 40% of our urban populace will visit at some time in their lives, wearing pants down low enough that the crack of one's buttocks and underwear is exposed - is a jail house code. Call it an advertisement of sorts. It means that the wearer is desiring that someone fill the crack with something, their preference being another man's member. :msp_ohmy:
(Call it a personality disorder but I sometimes feel compelled to tell one this ilk the story when I'm sittin' at a light and I see them hangin' on the corner. Probably end up gettin' shot in the face by a 12 year old, but I just can't help myself)
Well after I told Mikey the story and yanked his pants down a few times, tellin' him that I had spent a lotta time in jail, and he was real cute - what with the hair and the jewelry and all, ...and well...I just couldn't help myself, he started to realize that I was never gonna tire of it. :jester:
What friggin' planet do they come from and when did I become my father? :alien2:
Oh yeah, and when he got there he came rollin' out'a one'a his boyz little Jap cars with the fart muffler and the NHRA 6' spoiler on the back, in a cloud 'a weed smoke. Pants draggin' down around the crack of his ass, new flat brimmed ball cap on sideways and a hoodie that looked about two sizes too big (it was probably in the 30's that day and the wind was pretty steady). I did have some fun with him though (might have had a part to play in why his self esteem was so sensitive). First I hooked my carabiner of keys through the ring in his ear lobe and told him he could be my key box since he wasn't fit for anything else. He was to follow me around all day and keep my keys handy just in case. Hey... I've got memory issues. Anyway, the keys probably weighed about a pound (I actually dug every key I could find in my truck out just to add to it), and after just a little while he decided that he really wasn't all that dedicated to stretchin' his ear lobes to the floor one at a time (he kept whinin' somethin' about it hurtin', so I had to just try and keep a saw runnin'. :msp_wink:
The droopy drawers that he favored, I explained to him the history of that little fashion statement and he eventually took it upon himself to tie them up with a piece of cord. For those of you who don't know, this is an urban culture thing. In prison, where roughly 40% of our urban populace will visit at some time in their lives, wearing pants down low enough that the crack of one's buttocks and underwear is exposed - is a jail house code. Call it an advertisement of sorts. It means that the wearer is desiring that someone fill the crack with something, their preference being another man's member. :msp_ohmy:
(Call it a personality disorder but I sometimes feel compelled to tell one this ilk the story when I'm sittin' at a light and I see them hangin' on the corner. Probably end up gettin' shot in the face by a 12 year old, but I just can't help myself)
Well after I told Mikey the story and yanked his pants down a few times, tellin' him that I had spent a lotta time in jail, and he was real cute - what with the hair and the jewelry and all, ...and well...I just couldn't help myself, he started to realize that I was never gonna tire of it. :jester:
What friggin' planet do they come from and when did I become my father? :alien2:
