It’s All About Who You Know

It was just a small little job someone asked me to help them with on a Saturday. Apparently the electrician they had doing the work ghosted them and they just needed someone to get done ASAP, so they called your boy. It really wasn’t that intensive, all I had to do was install the lights and outlets in a newly renovated house.

Something that would normally take me maybe five hours to get done got dragged out to be all day. Since I was being paid cash, by the hour, I took full advantage of it. I got into that house, shut off all the power to the place, and got after it. Evidently I wasn’t the only one working in the house that day. About an hour later three guys pulled up to do the paint trim out painting on all the walls.

The only hiccup was that they didn’t speak a lick of english. I tried to say hi to them, you know the usual, “Another day another dollar” kind of thing and all they did was laugh like I was Mitch Helberg. They had no idea what I was saying. So I proceeded to turn up my music and do my job. They weren’t working on the first floor so I attacked there first. Once I finished that in record time I headed upstairs.

One of the guys was upstairs painting the doors, so I started in the room opposite him. I wanted to stay out of their way as much as I could mostly so I could still listen to my music all the way up. I had the whole master bedroom to myself and finished the room in four songs. When I got in the second room, the one where he was working, productively instantly went down.

As soon as I got in the room he was working in, he said something to me in Spanish. I had no idea what he said, I could make out two words he said and they were; grande and gringo and he pointed to my companies logo on our shirt. So all I knew was that he was talking about this big white dude. I asked him to say it again and still processed nothing more than the protagonist being a big white dude I had nothing.

He saw the blank stare I had on my face and promptly pulled out his Google translate and started talking into it like there was no language barrier between us. I don’t know what it was, maybe my clothes smelt like last night, maybe I mentioned something about partying too hard while I was on the phone, I’m not sure what it was but something about whatever I was doing opened the door for him to talk to me.

He broke the ice with his joke about the big white guy that works for my company making fun of his beard. He had me hooked, I was all for whatever he had to say, even if I couldn’t understand it. His phone was telling me what he was saying and I was dying laughing. laughing needs no translation. After that we couldn’t stop talking to one another.

Neither one of us was working anymore. We spent the rest of our Saturday afternoon shooting the shit. I’m not sure if it was the vibe I was giving him or if he could sense it off of me but he knew I liked to party. Maybe it was our back and forth joking with each other, but I felt like I could be honest with him.

But I didn’t want to be too direct so I answered as vaguely as I could, “Oh yeah most definitely, especially on the weekends.” I spoke that into his phone, waited for it to translate my English to Spanish and when his phone said those out loud he instantly smiled.

It was clear to me that whatever game he was playing I became a part of. It was like he knew exactly the type of person I was without us even having a full conversation with him. He asked me if I had to work the next day and I said, “Hell no it’s Sunday.” He then asked me if I liked to party and I said yes, confused as to why he was asking again.

He then asked again “?Te gusta la fiesta?” Of course me being the person I am, couldn’t say no no matter how many times he kept on asking me. Of course I love to party. It’s one of my favorite pastimes. All of a sudden this guy transformed from friend into a businessman real quick.

His demeanor got more serious when he spoke into his translator, “I have a good connect with some good stuff. It’s $1,000.00 for an ounce for that yayo.” Of course when he said it in Spanish I had no idea what he was talking about. The only thing I understood was a thousand dineros for yayo.

I knew what dinero was and that was all I cared about. All I heard was an eighth for one hundred twenty five bucks was going to give me some extra spending cash for awhile. Just like that I became one of the biggest distributors for the cartel in Charlotte North Carolina.

So I guess if anyone needs anything let me know.

Worst Job Ever

There’s plenty of shitty jobs out there. I have a long list of jobs I would never do like; being a painter, a mover, or a plumber are some of my least favorites. Those jobs are dirty, physically strenuous, and honestly kind of boring. To each his own, but it isn’t something I could do for more than a couple hours.

After traveling for work so much and being limited to predominantly public gas station bathrooms, there’s a new job at the top of the list, someone that has to clean those bathrooms. I’m in and out of strangers’ houses all day long to fix their electrical problems and it baffles me how disgusting some people choose to live.

Which leads me to the poor souls that have to clean up after us filthy animals in the bathroom. I know I’m not always the cleanest guy in the toilet but that’s because of all the crap I put into my body. I at least have the decency to flush the toilet or not use the entire roll of toilet paper at once and clog the toilet. There are some disgusting people out there you don’t know the half of it.

That has to be the worst part of their jobs; trying to unclog the toilet so hard that no matter how hard they try to cut up the mess in the toilet or hit it with the plunger with that shit water spraying all over the place and not being able to fix it. Then it gets worse, they then have to lock the stall door from inside the stall and crawl under the door onto the floor they had just soaked with all the waste that was in the toilet, to get out from the locked stall. Just to put a piece of paper on the door saying “out of order” and calling a plumber to come fix it.

There’s many jobs I won’t do, but when I saw the bathroom attendant have to do that one day, I knew that had to be the worst job out there and I’m sorry. I know how gross us guys can be and for all of us, even those assholes who use all the toilet paper, We’re sorry.

The PanHandler

I like to think I have a decent job. I mean it pays the bills, keeps a roof over my head whatever right. The thing that sucks about my job is that I actually have to work. Like bust my ass you know? Sometimes I come home from work smelling like I just played a game of football.

Sometimes I get some easy days but for the most part I get stuck working all day long. Which I know we all do but sometimes it can be exhausting. The only time I get a break is lunch and that isn’t always guaranteed. There was one job I was running and I made it a point for us to take lunch.

Mentally and physically I knew we needed it. For that hour, oh yeah I’m a cool boss, we would sit out in front of the job site and eat our lunch. At the corner of the street maybe forty feet from us, there was this panhandler who was there everyday. Each day I watched as people were doing their good deed for the day giving him a dollar.

I spent my lunch counting how many dollars, granted they could have been more, he was getting. During the hour-long lunch we took, I saw this man make sixteen dollars cash. Maybe more. All he was doing was just chilling with his headphones in and a sign.

There I was stressing to make the deadline for the job turning my hair grey for at the time twenty something an hour. Maybe I have this work thing all wrong. If I spend a couple hours sitting on the corner I could walk away with enough cash to pay my bills and keep a roof over my head. Maybe they got it all figured out.

Must Be Wicked Cool

The other day I called the customer before I left my house to head to this house so he’d be ready for me. I’d rather give them a heads up so they can be there waiting for me as opposed to me waiting for them. Time is money, you know. When I call someone I always say the same thing when I call, “Hey how are ya? This is Troy, the electrician you called, looks like I’ll be there in about a half hour. Does that work for you?”

It’s a pretty basic line but gets straight to the point. Typically there are two types of responses I get back, “Alright perfect we’ll be here” or “Is there any way we can do something later I’m not around right now.” Which if that’s the case I’ll do some of my other calls and come back to this one later. No issue.

But this morning when I called this dude he put my mind in a pretzel. Instead of saying he was home waiting for me all he said to me was, “Oh my dad’s name was Troy…” There was silence after that. It was all he said. So I proceeded to tell him that I’ll be there in about a half hour and then he hung up. Without even saying bye. There was a long enough silence to know the conversation was over.

Naturally when I got there I used my name as my ice breaker. I asked, “Oh so your fathers name was Troy too, I bet he was wicked cool.” I thought it was a perfect line. I mean I don’t know any Troys that aren’t dope. It was a line that would work ninety nine percent of the time. Unfortunately this was one of the one percenters.

All he said was, “Yeah.” That was the last word he said to me. I figured out his problem, got the head nod to do his work, and didn’t hear him say another word until he said, “Alright thank you.” as I was walking out his front door to leave. I don’t know what kind of relationship he had with his father but if I had to guess it wasn’t a healthy one. Which baffled me? If that’s the case why would you even bring it up. Like of course I’m going to ask you about your father if he has the same name as me.

I think it’s safe to say he won’t be calling me back any time soon. Which is a shame because he needed a shit ton of electrical work.

I Hope It Was Only A Nightmare

I had one of my worst nightmares ever the other night. My dream started off uneventful. I was just walking around my neighborhood like nothing was going on. I stopped by a bar for a drink and had a few drinks. I was happy to be in this dream, chilling in a bar has been far better than the other dreams I’ve had like where I was fighting a home invasion or a zombie apocalypse.

This dream felt real. I honestly felt like I was just out on a Friday after work, but then I saw myself in the mirror and got lost in this nightmare. I saw myself in the mirror and noticed my tooth was chipped. This is when it started feeling real. I forgot I was dreaming and damn near gave myself a panic attack.

I found myself fighting back tears in the bathroom freaking out about my chipped tooth. I don’t know any doctors down here, I wouldn’t even know how to start the process of looking for a dentist. Can you like just walk into a dentist office and ask them to fix your tooth? Is that how it works? I was stressing myself out trying to figure out how to fix my tooth.

Abruptly my alarm woke me up and I had to run to the bathroom to check and see if my tooth was chipped. Waking up in my bed wasn’t a sure enough tell that it was only just a nightmare, I had to see for myself. This dream messed me up so bad I had to talk about it.

So I brought it up to my spirit guide and apparently a chipped tooth in our dreams is actually symbolic. She was informing me that; depending on whether your tooth is already chipped, or if you chip your tooth, or if you’re fixing a chipped tooth in a dream can all represent different things.

In my case I noticed I had a chipped tooth which means; that my form, both physically and mentally are strong, but I’ve recently picked up some bad habits. These bad habits can break down both our mental and physical health. Which I could totally understand, I definitely have picked up some bad habits and in the past two months I’ve had more pimples than I did during puberty. So yeah that makes sense.

But then they ended their whole article saying that it could also just be deja vu. Which would completely contradict everything they were just writing about. Either way I’m freaked out. I’m bringing a mouth guard with me to work and wearing it every time I have to use a drill. I’ve already chipped it four times and down here I have no way of fixing it.

I just hope this dream doesn’t come true.

Just Don’t Miss

I must admit, I love to get down. I’m ready to go at any time of the day. It never matters where we are, I’m always craving it. As soon as I wake up in the morning until I fall asleep at night it’s on the forefront of my mind. Anyway I can get it, I’ll take it. I don’t mind if we take things slow, or if she wants to take charge, let just go get tangled in the sheets.

The other night I got lucky. It had been awhile since the last time I got frisky and to say I was eager to get down again would be an understatement. The way I couldn’t stop smiling in between our kisses and the chills she sent down my spine, you would have thought this was my first time ever fornicating. Her and I got our hands on each other and never looked back.

She was kissing me, I was kissing her then all of a sudden she was on top of me and I found myself lost in her euphoria. I was completely infatuated with. My adrenaline was racing through my veins, her love was intoxicating me, just rubbing her body and holding her tightly wasn’t enough for me. I wanted more. I needed more. All my rationale went out of my head and I went for it, I slapped her ass, being so caught up in the moment we had.

It wasn’t one of those “good game” kind of slaps people give each other, it was a real slap. I mean I wound up, I cocked my arm back, and slapped her ass. I didn’t think twice about it. I had no idea how hard I was swinging. I just swung it forward. I got lost in the moment, I was engulfed with the rush of what we were doing and just went for it again. She didn’t seem upset, or annoyed, or turned off in any way by it.

Naturally I took it as a green light to proceed and do it again. This time I wound up slightly further than I before and was ready to sling my arm forward with more velocity than it did before. I didn’t look before I swung my arm, I thought I knew where I was going, so I just slung my hand forward expecting to slap her ass again. Only this time I didn’t slap her ass.

I accidentally wound up directly smacking my right nut. It was the hardest slap I could throw and I missed. It was a real slap, let me tell you, there was no five second delay on this one. As soon as I hit my ball I instantly became sick to my stomach. I was in agonizing pain and honestly thought I was going to puke but I couldn’t let her know what happened. I just slapped myself in the ball, there isn’t much more embarrassing than that.

For the rest of our night together I held her on top of me holding her tightly. While she had her head on my shoulder moaning and sighing having a good time, I was moaning too, just my moans were moans of excruciating pain. I laid there staring at the ceiling fighting back my tears of pain, and periodically checking my ball to make sure it was still there. I hit it so hard, the pain was that bad, I actually thought I popped it. Yeah I came in that hard for a smack that I honestly thought I popped my own ball.

My warning to you the next time you try to smack someone ass, be careful, and make sure you have the right trajectory. Because if you miss it can instantly turn a good time into a bad time.

Does He Even Workout ?

My brother is in good shape. I haven’t seen him in awhile but he’s been talking about being at the gym for awhile now so I’ve been under the impression that he’s been taking decent care of his body. We never really talked much but as of recently he’s been calling me while he’s at the gym. So I know he at least goes to the gym.

I just think it’s weird to talk on the phone while you’re at the gym. I understand if you’re on the treadmill or something but who would want to be talking on the phone with someone while they’re trying to max out their squats. But then, when I started spending twenty minutes, maybe a half hour, sometimes an hour talking to him on the phone…while he’s at the gym… I’m not convinced he works out. There’s no way. How can he work out if he’s on the phone the whole time?

I have two theories; one is that maybe he actually works at the gym. Maybe like he’s the guy that works there putting all the weights back people left on machines. Or maybe he goes around cleaning all the equipment after someone uses it. It would explain why he’s always able to talk on the phone with me for so long while he’s at the gym. And if that’s the case than props to him, at least he’s getting paid to be there.

My second theory is that he’s that weird guy that goes to the gym but never works out. He’s the guy you see filling the bench bar with all the heavy weights only to take a lap around the gym just to come back and remove all the weights he had just put on the machine. Maybe he doesn’t even work out at all, he just goes there for the clout.

Either way it’s uncertain whether or not he actually works out. I’m dubious for sure so please if anyone sees him at the gym working out please take a picture of him for me. It’s gotta be something more than him just walking on the treadmill or racking and un-racking a machine. There’s no way he actually works out.

I Hope They Don’t Reopen

About a month ago I was introduced to this banging Asian restaurant down the street from my place. I can’t get enough of it. Maybe like three or four times a month I find myself calling them up to place my same order for pickup. They always answer immediately, like after the first ring. I’ve never once called them and heard it ring twice. They’re always open.

The other day when I drove by the plaza it was in was being torn down for construction. I was appalled, completely without warning, without even a sign, or anything announcement they started demolishing one of my favorite restaurants. It looked like the only thing that was still open in that plaza was a Dunks. When I got home that day I had to call and see if they truly closed.

I got this sudden hankering to have their food at least one last time. Like knowing that this could be my last time ever eating them. That was if they were still actually open. So I called them, and just as the sun rises every morning, they answered the phone immediately. I promptly ordered what I always do and started walking towards my favorite restaurant. I had my doubts about whether or not they were open but when they took my order, took my card information, and charged me for my food, I was ecstatic to have their food one last time.

But when I got there I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was outraged, I was mortified, and most of all I was standing there hangry and speechless. I tried to open the door to get inside and it was locked. I peeked through the window and saw a ladder and a couple of job site tool boxes sitting on the floor. I could feel my heart crumble and could hear my stomach screaming from inside of me.

My favorite restaurant no longer existed. They closed down before anyone could even get their last meal from them. Worst of all, they still kept their phones active. Those assholes are breaking hearts left and right, answering phone calls, taking peoples money, just to leave us at their empty restaurants doorstep, starving, and disappointed. My favorite restaurant hastily became my least favorite restaurant… ever. I was disappointed in them. They didn’t deserve my business anymore after the stunt they pulled. Hell they don’t deserve anyone’s business after this stunt they pulled.

I hope that when they relocate they lose all their customers. No one should be giving them any business anymore. I just can’t believe they took twenty two dollars and sixty seven cents from me. They just lost a steady mostly revenue of at least a hundred bucks a month.

Ex Boyfriend

She was cooking dinner at my place that night. In the rush of leaving her apartment she left a few ingredients she needed for dinner. I was sent back to her house to retrieve those items so we could have a perfect meal together. Since she was already nose deep into the cooking process it made sense for me to go.

I grabbed my backpack, slipped on my crocs, and headed onward to her place. My headphones were blasting and I was lost in my head the entire walk to her place. When I crossed the street, I could only stop and look. I had no way of listening if a car was coming when I crossed the street to her place. I was too busy getting down to some old school J Biebs.

It didn’t dawn on me until I stepped foot into her apartment complex… her ex boyfriend still has keys to her place. I have a tendency of being a bit too pessimistic sometimes, so before I even clicked the button to call the elevator to take me to her floor I was already stressing myself out. “What if he happens to be in there tonight, of all nights? What if I open the door to him on the couch?” I was freaking out.

Part of me was kind of hoping that the elevator would get stuck so I wouldn’t be able to get into her apartment. I psyched myself out by thinking about the off chance that he’s going to be at her place. I honestly was thinking that it would be so much better being stuck in the elevator. Tragically the elevator opened up to her floor and I was left to go into her apartment, grab the four things she needed to have a perfect meal, and hope that I wouldn’t encounter the old boyfriend.

I found her key within her overly decorated key chain consisting of mace, a whistle, and too many keys that did nothing. I unlocked the door and got me inside. Immediately I turned on the lights, looked in the bathroom to see if anyone was in there, checked her bedroom to make sure no one was in there then and ran to the fridge where the one thing I could remember was. I saw one of her containers that she needed on the counter, threw it in my backpack, and called it quits. I got out of there as soon as I could. I didn’t want to cross paths with him that night.

I got back to my apartment essentially empty handed. There were four things she asked me to get and one of those things she specifically needed for dinner that night. I forgot it obviously, I only got two of those things. I instantly upset her with my empty backpack and rightfully so. I mean she chef’d up this whole meal for us, set the table with a plate full of food for us, and waited for me to get back with her before she ate.

I don’t think I have ever seen her more disappointed than I did that night. She asked for one thing and I couldn’t even do that for her. I messed up… big time. I guess the moral of the story here is; if there isn’t anyone hiding in the closet, or in the shower, or under the bed, there probably isn’t anyone out there looking to whack you. So take your time and get everything she asked for. You’ll know if you need to rush out of there.

“Don’t Get Married”

Us tradesmen live a simple life. We all get up for work each and everyday before the sun rises and sweat our balls off at work by seven am. We grind all week, looking forward to the weekend so we can finally get away from all the other guys at work that simply just breathe and annoy us by the end of the week. All to be excited to see everyone back at work again on Monday morning like we’re all each other’s best friends.

On paper, most of the tradesmen you talk to seem to be living their life, at least the life I keep dreaming about. They have a home to call home, a wife that I presume is the love of their life, and some kids to help them give them purpose to all the madness in this world. Like they all seemed to have a reason to get up each and everyday and go to work. Some of the guys got lucky. They found someone that makes them feel safe and made their fairy tales come true together.

It’s something I epitomize having one day in my life. I see all these men having a home they can call home. The same one I’ve always aspired to have and for some reason I can’t understand, they all hate it. Most guys on job sites are miserable. So much so that almost everyday, they remind me, a single kid, to never get married. If only I had a dollar for every time I heard that. It’s hands down my least favorite three words that anyone can put together.

Believe me, walk on any job site and you’re bound to hear four or five people complaining about their home without even having to ask them a question. Some people just go off and start rambling about how much they’d rather be working than at home dealing with their family. I just can’t wrap my head around why these guys are so unhappy with their lives. Not for nothing, they all have everything that I have spent my whole life dreaming about. How can they be so pessimistic?

I guess that’s why they call it settling down. People just find something that feels safe enough so they call it quits on chasing tail and finally “settle down” with just someone. I can only assume that they just felt like it was time for them to have kids and gave up on all the going out finding something real to build off of and took what they could get. They “settled down.”

I hate that name for it. Settling down… sounds like you’re content with a third place trophy. Maybe some people are satisfied with the bare minimum. They’d rather Just have someone to hangout with, rather than someone they want to hangout with. Call me crazy but I’m not that kind of guy. I’d rather spend my life alone than forcing myself to waste time with someone I don’t care about. Nor would I want to raise a family in such a plastic, broken home. I’d rather be alone than have to fake some sort of love like that.

I want it all or nothing, in no way am I ever going to settle down. I’m going to get married to the love of my life, someone that I can’t leave in the morning for work without kissing goodbye, someone that I stay up with all night because I can’t get enough of her. My home is going to be built strong, one that I can truly call home, one that I get excited to go to after work each and everyday.

I won’t ever settle down. I’m going to find someone to love for the rest of my life, something real, something that I’ve always dreamt about. When I find that I won’t be settling down, I’ll just be starting my journey.

Stealing Clothes

Personally I think it’s wicked attractive to see a girl wearing my clothes. By all means wear my sweatshirt, steal one of my t-shirts, and might as well toss on some of my sweatpants as well. I love that shit. Wear all of it and get over here and cuddle with me please

There is only one thing that has always and will always continue to baffle me. It hasn’t mattered if it’s a girl I’ve only known for one night or if it’s a girl that is just as crazy about me as I am crazy about her, they always seem to find a way to pick out my favorite clothes. Each time one of them grabs a piece of my clothing they somehow manage to always find the ones I don’t want to live without.

Initially I thought they kept grabbing my favorite clothes because I only wore my favorite clothes. Every time after I did my laundry, my favorite clothes would be on the top of my drawer. I then had this epiphany and made a change. I’ve started tucking away my favorite clothes, the ones I can’t live without, in the bottom of my drawer in hopes to preserve them.

You’ll never guess what happened next. These girls started digging through my draws, evidently searching for my favorite clothes to wear, finding the ones I love to put on. Somehow all of them find my favorite clothes at the bottom of my drawer. Even the ones that have only been to my house for a night.

It’s like they have this sixth sense of theirs. They can walk into any place, find your favorite clothes to wear, and steal them from you. Like I said, I have no issue with them wearing my clothes, I love that shit, but I can’t tell you how many of my favorites I have lost to these girls.

Some girls whose names I won’t ever remember are out there wearing some of my t-shirts as if it’s their own right now. They wear it knowing damn well they stole it from me. Some girls are out there wearing shirts of mine that I only wish I had now for this someone to steal. Some girls out there causing this huge hole in my wardrobe, stealing all of my style, that I can’t fill.

Somewhere out there someone is wearing my high school trade t-shirt that I was hoping to hang on to my whole life. Someone is out there wearing my favorite sweatshirt that I wore almost every night when I went out. Truthfully it just sucks knowing that they’re all out wearing my favorite clothes instead of me. Clothes that I can’t live without.