Report: Sad Man Buys Stocking Stuffer Candy To Eat on Hydro-Fracturing Project

Packaged candy intended for a child's Christmas stocking was recently purchased by Oggy Bleacher to munch on in the freezing cold and driving rain as he wrenches his back muscles installing 4'' rigid conduit. The brightly colored candy, on sale because of the impending holiday, was purchased by Mr. Bleacher without a trace of holiday spirit, only trying to find something affordable to keep his energy up for the 10 hours of manual labor in the sleet and hail.
"I don't give a fuck about Christmas," said Mr. Bleacher as he kicked the mud off his boots and winced from the stabbing pain in his neck, shoulders and back.
"And you can get the fuck out of my face before I punch you in the mouth," added the childless Bleacher.
Mr. Bleacher coughed some phlegm from his congested lungs and spit near the puddles of urine he had just produced to ease his throbbing prostate. With one hand on his infertile, withered cock he fed tasteless morsels of chocolate and caramel into his pale and Grinch-like mouth with the other.
"A couple more days of this and I will die in the mud like a damn confederate soldier, that would make you laugh wouldn't it? You'd just love to see me suffer, huh?" said Bleacher, as he dropped some Holiday themed chocolate onto the mud and his drooped and bleary eyes never blinked from the distant horizon.

Margaritaville

Everyone has HD cameras but I use my crappy flip phone camera...and get the worst picture.

This ridiculous 7/10 job has me pushing my hernia back into my belly when I bend over and whining like a child who lost his favorite toy truck. So I had no choice but to rally my nerves and go on a spending spree that would've made the Oggy of 2011 weep with the Chinese Slaves I trampled on. A beaver fur hat? A fancy tooled leather belt? Cologne? A Stetson pearl snap button shirt? You'd think I was getting married to Trisha Yearwood. Then an evening of gambling and sirloin steak at the casino Buffet.

"Searching for my lost shaker of salt..."

Now I can almost tolerate the 22 degree weather. The only way I can be more rock star is by buying a baby grand piano to put in my hotel room.

c

"I'll never forgive you, Oggy."

In A Previous Life

I was a little disturbed to meet this old version of me. I never watched "The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis" on television. So I would never have met Maynerd G. Krebs, the resident beatnik sidekick of Dobie...inexplicably hanging around an Eisenhower culture, trying to fit in a diseased society...but also a pawn in the brainwashing machine, indoctrinating a generation of kids into thinking dirty bongo players were people to call the police on and throw eggs at and shoot shotguns at when they drove their van onto their street. Now I know the source of the hate I've been victimized by for 15 years...mindless programming of audience to hate hipsters while the entire ecosystem is devoured by dragons and wars fought by smug lawyers using poor ghetto pawns. The networks had their priorities perfectly aligned with the apocalypse and everyone swallowed the magic pill. I know the fate of Maynerd...they greased his ass with the slobber of the post-Kerouac Walking Dead and drafted Dobie to fight an Opium war in S.E. Asia. And the programming convinced people to go along with it like fucking obedient slaves. I got no problem "working" as long as I'm working for a culture that isn't a diseased variation of a Mississippi cane plantation. Until then, I'll beat the drums loudly in your self-serving neighborhood. Someone didn't eat the worm.

we even wear our watches on the same wrist!

That's What She Said

Working with 100% men leads to certain traditions of misogyny and sexual insinuations. It is probably the same through all the trades but in Industrial Electrical work with long lengths of rigid conduit buried and threading and cutting and pipe clamps there are some phrases and comments that always lead to someone breaking the tension with the response, "That's what she said."

Here are a few:

"It's too long..."
"I need one more inch..."
"There's dirt on the threads..."
"It won't fit..."
"My hands are tired..."
"Let me get my gloves and knee pads..."
"Put some thread lube on it..."
"Spray it with this [galvanized paint]..."
"I dropped the nut..."
"Push up..."
"It's hot..."
"It's freezing..."
"I'm hungry..."


You can see that almost anything can be twisted into a sexual connotation. It's totally awesome. Exactly how I like spending my days.

Odds

In Roulette there are 36 numbers...plus a zero and a double zero. So, 38 possibilities. The pay off is 1:35 on hitting a given number. So if you covered every single number, betting $38, you are guaranteed to hit and win $35...thus losing $3 every spin. If you cover 37 numbers, then you only lose $2 but you also have a 1:37 chance of losing everything. And if you cover 36 numbers then you will lose $1 unless the ball lands in the two numbers you didn't cover. Cover 35 numbers and you break even...with 3 chances to lose everything.

Tonight, after eating a $25 buffet of fried ravioli and delicious broccoli soup, I covered 30 numbers...leaving 8 numbers uncovered...this is only feasible in a computerized speed roulette table because it takes too long to put a chip on every number in real roulette not to mention you have to climb over every pensioner pissing away her social security check for free mixed drinks. In computerized roulette the wheel and ball is still physical but you place bets on a screen and you never touch the germ ridden chips that caused me to be grievously ill this past week.

I started with $20, betting $0.25 every number, pretty much randomly chosen by my fingers. My total bet was $7.50. The payoff would be $8.75...for a profit of $1.25. I figured I had almost no chance to lose*...and decided to quit when I had doubled my bank. You can either bet in a way that has the odds against you, so you are praying a single number hits...or bet in a way that has the odds on your side so you pray a couple numbers don't hit. Let's see how this played out...

The first spin I hit #14. So my bank was $21.25. I did a dance on the smoky casino carpet with horseshoe patterns, replete with dusty losers...in pitiful Tuesday dress, the quiet sounds of distress and desperation filling the cancerous air.