Good Evening to the Circle Jerks that Like to Party Hardy and Read my Venomous and Vile Screeds from Beyond. Live from Crystal Meth Capital of Central Florida, its the Intrepid Reporter online here to spin a Wild and if not Woolly web of Bullshit, Blame and Rantings and Ravings that’d make Granny blush, Momma slap me, and generally piss off anyone on the Loser Left.
So, on that long winded intro:
Man, I’ma gonna start collecting and dividing my water bills from now on. Its -gotta- be a tax writeoff to use this many laundry cycles. I’ma having to do it nightly. I mean I -do- have more than one pair of ‘acceptable work pants’. However, that being said, I’m -not- going to use my precious 5.11 khaki tacticools, nor do I want to use my khaki ACU style pantalones. Leastways til it cools off hereabouts. The ACUs are the 50/50 cotton/nylon that don’t breathe worth a shit and are hottern’hell under the current meteorology stats. I got ONE, count ’em ONE pair of lightweight ripstops, and funny thing is, they’re $9.94 Wally World Specials.
So, b/c of that, I wash ’em nightly. That and depending on the mission of the day I wash like everything. Todays Bouncing Happy Fun Ball is brought to you by “Muh Diversity” and the general lack of hygiene that it brings.
Do Not Taunt.
Yepper. We got this call on whatever the fuck that night I did 14 hours. Monday? Prolly. The house is in a middle-to-lower end neighborhood. Couple of clues are the cars in driveways on flats, or missing wheels entirely… the general decrepitness of the A.O… One can tell when one is entering an “Almost Hood” A.O…
The editor needs me to define “A.O.” That’s ‘Area of Operations’ for the civvies out there. Mainly the arena yer playing in at the time so to speak. To continue. So we get the call… leaky bathtub. Fucking broke dick is what it was. Took the owner 7 fucking days to get a hold of us. That ain’t good. Even with the HVAC system trying to maintain, a leak like that all over the carpets, drywalls, joists, studs and such? Can you say Microbial Growth? Like within 72 hours if things go sideways.
Seems this dood is a glorified slumlord who owns dozens of places around here. The tenants (nice folks, I’ll give ’em that) said the tub (fiberglass special) developed a crack a few years ago. The slumlord patched it as opposed to replacing the tub. The patch was old… I, in centuries past before I got my final growth in, used to surf -quite- a bit. Occasionally my board would catch a rock or a ding and I’d have to patch it. After two or three years, the patch would be a nasty deep brown stain in the original fiberglass. This patch was the same. It’d look like a bruise over time. This tub had the same shytte.
Well… onward. The house.. 4 Bedrooms. I hadda rip up the carpet and padding in one room, 2X Closets and 1 X Hallway. Nasty doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Now, to be fair, the tenants are nice people for the values defined here. However: As representatives of a highly valued “Muh Diversity” race, there were too many tropes and stereotypes to go with.
1) When I initially got there, the funk of the house was a pungent aroma of feet, unwashed ass and mold. The mold may-or-may-not-have been due to the water issue.
2) 4 Bedrooms: 7 Kids, 2 X Adults.
SEVEN. FUCKING. KIDS.
One bedroom had 4 boys stashed in in w/ two bunk beds. The funk in there reminded me of a barracks from long ago… piss, feet and unwashed ass. That or a bunkroom in an illegal immigrant farm picking camp without showers. The girls room? 2X Teenage girls? Yah. Thankfully –ZERO- intrusion there. The smell of females-in-heat/used tampons/menstrual pads was almost only overcome by the cloyingly stinky stench of mall kiosk perfume.
The oldest… about 17? Dunno if he lived there or not. I wouldn’t if -I- had a choice. He prolly sleeps in his car if he has even the slightest piece of self respect.
3) Clutter. Like as in “Am I on an Episode of Fucking ‘Horders’ on Discovery?” level of clutter. More shit than they knew where to put it. Bags of shit… bad African Art that Reaffirms “We wuz Kangs!” everywhere.
Tonight’s Politically Incorrect Pic Courtesy
the Philadelphia Police Department. No Joke!!!
So under these conditions I hadda cut carpet. It was like cutting up a 10 year old burlap ‘Welcome!” mat that’d been never shaken out or vacuumed. Add on this had, to my experienced eye, never been vacuumed, and was also SOAKED in the leak-water… yeah, I need more pants to say the least. At least 2X more.
So yeah, we got the mission accomplished but damned did I come out smelling like feet and unwashed ass. Bad enough to sweat like a gorilla, but to then get someone elses funk all over me?
There’d better be a payraise on the horizon. Or else.
So b/c of this, I fell ‘off the wagon’ and had me a couple of beers for dinner. ANd 2X shots of Sambuca. I know… strange tastes. ‘Buca comes from being formerly married to a Dago Broad… they drink that and Limonocello like it was fucking free 24-7-365. It’s been 3 weeks since I had more than 3-4 drinks, but between the Mattress O’Doom and it’s juicy goodness and the coating of “Muh Diversity” Funk, I’ve fuckin’ earned it. The beer(s) of choice tonight? Bud Light.
Don’t Judge Me.
Yeah… too many years in Germany ruined my stomach for anything heavier than Pisswater. Too many dunkel hefeweizens totally fucked up my shit. I can’t even touch any of the traditional Irish Brews like Guinness or even a Killians.
My Irish Ancestors are rolling in their collective graves.
OK. Enough for now… hopefully I get caught up this weekend with the Flammenwerfer bullshit. God Knows I owe it to the Psychopaths who’ve been following and participating in the projects. That and some in-depth poly-ticks.
Until then, I’m the Intrepid Reporter,