Friday, January 25, 2008


Typical day at work on the construction site;

4 finish carpenters.
5 frame carpenters.
3 stone masons.
2 tile setters.
2 dock installers.
5 painters.
2 plasterers.

1 portable toilet.

That's bad math.
Potentially infectious, possibly disastrous, assuredly odorous, bad, bad, math.

But our shining knight, with his 650 gallon capacity, silver tanked steed, and his p.t.o. driven, on-board suction hose, gallops to the olfactory gland rescue every Tuesday and Friday. Never a complaint, sometimes a grumble, but always dilligent about his doody.

It makes me wonder.
Is outhouse cleaner is a career goal for some people? I don't recall any booth at any job fairs. My high school guidance counselor never brought it up as a possible future for me. (If he did, I would have smacked the crap out of him - .......pun intended). I also don't know anyone who has applied for the gig. Maybe they are raising a whole clone army of crapper suckers in an underground bunker? Who knows?

The way I figure it, this guy cannot possibly get paid enough. I don't know what kind of qualifications this job would require, or what port-o-man cleaner brings home after taxes, but I'm glad someones doin it. ..and I'm glad it ain't me. 'Cause if you work in a pizza place, you go home smellin like pizza. If you work in a fish market, chances are you're smellin like trout. But this job would require you be married to some noseless Muppet. And Muppets scare me.

Seriously, I think I would have to charge $10,000 for each port-o-can service. I figure once a month I'd don my hazardous material suit and gas mask, do the dirty deed, collect my 10 g's per, and be livin on easy street. Or, I'd count and rate all of the quickie-marts and fast-food joints within 2 miles of the job-site, and proportion my fee accordingly.

For example:
# of convenient stores within 2 mile radius - - - 4
# of fast food restaraunts in same radius - - - - 3
average overall gut wrecking rating - - - - - - 255
cost of gas mask filters - - - - - - - - - - - - - - $15
stinkability factor (constant) - - - - - - - - - - 100

So in this case;
4+3( 255/15 ) x 100 = 7 (17) x 100 = 119 x 100 = $11,900 per.

.....and that's math I can live with !

Monday, January 21, 2008


I am happy to join with you here today in what will hopefully bring sanity to parents across this great nation of ours.

For I too, have a dream.

I have a dream that one day Kool-aid spilled from the glass of a toddler, will not stain my carpet. So as to ease the relationship between clumsy youngsters and rug-scrubbing fathers.

I have a dream that Crayola crayons will not melt in my dryer, ending forever, the practice of testing Daddys' pocket checking abilities at laundry time.

My dream is for the future leaders of our country to eat their vegetables, without the fuss, so we may never again speak the words, "then just sit there, until you do."

I dream of baby-sitters by the hundreds, lining up at my door, to tend to my children, free of charge, so Daddy can get drunk at a hockey game and scream at the referees.

I have dreampt of a time when the mutant kids next door, will lay down their water balloons, and never again plot an unprovoked attack on my newly washed truck.

I dream of a day when day-care centers do not close for every holiday on the calendar that I am not off of work for. Causing family and friends who do have the day off, to spend it with my kids.

I have a dream of barefoot children, not biting their toenails.
And of walking barefoot myself, into my sons room, without the m-f ing scream that can only come from stepping on a matchbox car or a lego.

But alas, I awake from my slumber only to find it is only a dream.

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day.

Sunday, January 20, 2008


Another week in the tank.
7 more days of my life I'll never get back.
Good ridance.
Turn the page, close the book, shelve the book, then burn the shelf.

Between the 3 day de-programming my kids require after a weekend at the beasts house (that's the X , for newer readers) and the apparent "who can piss me off the most" contest at work, I've had it.
Kids, we've been over this before. Just wake up in the morning, have your pop-tart, and remind yourself that Damon is always right. I promise your day will slide by with the dazzle and glee one might only expect to find at tiger feeding time at a Segfried and Roy show. In other words, do what I say and no one gets hurt.

As if it's not tough enough trying to get my little monsters to behave, the morons who work for me decided this week to forget everything I asked them to do. But I am no stranger to repeating myself. After all, I am the reigning "did not - did too" champion of the house, and when the opportunity arises, I plan on de-throning my daughter in the " nuh uh - uh huh" competition.

The way I figure it, if I'm gonna have to babysit these "adults" all day, I should be able to punish them when necessary.
Give the tile setter a time-out.
Put a carpenter over my knee.
Send the stone mason to bed with no lunch.
Or get 'em all with one swoop and unplug their radios.
Yeah that's it. I have power over the power.
Just remember that this is going to hurt you, more than it hurts me.