Y'all ain't gonna believe this shit.

I really ought to keep a separate notebook at work of the things I observe that I want to put into a blog....really. There're just some things that I can't put into my weekly reports for my school that I really want to put in. Today was the icing on the cake though, so I have to share.

For those of you who don't know, I am spending my summer (the whole summer) in Tennessee. I'm not going home to the folks, and I'm not traveling anywhere but here. I am in Murfreesboro for the summer.

And I love it.

I really do. I'm sort of bored at night when I get home from work, but I'm usually pretty tired too, so I'm in bed kind of early.

My roommates are fun kids. I'm allowed to say kids...they aren't 21 yet.

And yet, the kegger would seem to be a weekly staple.

nix that...nightly staple.

Saying that I shouldn't be bored when I get home from work, but the kegger doesn't start until after 11:00 sometimes and by then I'm usually passed out.

This is simply proof that I can (and probably will) sleep through nuclear fall out, or the impending apocolypse. Whichever comes first.

I have partied with my roomies....don't get me wrong. Last week I decided 'fuck it' and rewarded myself with a little social activity.

Good times.

Except for the next morning when I was exhausted at work and 1:00 PM hit me like a brick wall.

So the next night I was in bed when someone knocked on the door. Thy informed me that a group of kids was partying over here again. I let them in and went to bed.

I was jarred from sleep at midnight thirty by a dark figure standing over my bed.



I will admit here that I screamed like a girl, but we will never speak of it agian, do you understand me?



He freaked out too...he didn't think I'd freak out the way I did. But when you're used to a.) sleeping on a top bunk and b.) not having someone wake you, having that dark shadow hover above you is not the most friendly thing to wake up to. Also note that he was a lucky sumbitch that I was sleeping on the far side of the bed from my night stand....where my knife lives.
I informed Wes that if he values his life, he'll never do that again.

I put in some face time....and went back to sleep despite the noise coming from the other room.
That's home life for the most part. I've been cooking for myself....tried to set fire to the apartment yesterday but got the place aired out and kept the fire lighting to a minimum.



Work.


Work is good. I sit inside an air conditioned Visitor center and hand out maps and try to answer questions. Once I learn the answer to aforementioned question, I can answer them in the future.

I have been commended on my good attitude and helpful manner.



Man, I've TOTALLY got these fuckers snowed, don't I?


So anyway, the only part of work that I dislike are the small children. School groups blow (except that they keep me sort of busy and entertained). Fourth graders REALLY blow. They can not answer a simple question....and if you tell them something trivial, they get stuck on it and beat it to death. It's ridiculous. Eighth graders in this state can not read....this annoys me. However, the eighth graders attention spans for questions is much longer than a fourth graders. Should I be so burdened, I will ship my child off the year they go into fourth grade. They may come home as soon as they enter the fifth grade, but from the minute they graduate the third grade until the day they start the fifth, I will not have them anywhere near me. Snot nosed little shits.

Old guys crack me up. MOst of the volunteers are old guys. More than half of them wear hearing aids of some sort.......It's funny. The only old guys that don't crack me up are the ones that insist on talking to me about something I don't care about for HOURS. Especially when it's time to close up. Unfortunately I feel sorry for these poor old farts because you know they're all alone and have no one to talk to at home. So they talk at me....I swear the batteries in their hearing aids power everything else....they just keep going and going and going and going and going and going and going......

My supervisor is very serious about teaching me to shoot a cannon. I'm very serious about learning (though you wouldn't know it the way I giggle like a fat kid at a buffet).


I met the guns today. One is Betty, the other is Shelly. My supervisor refers to them as his babies.....I can understand this completely.....I can't wait to get to work with Betty and Shelly.

Scary that they'll let me play with somethign that goes "BOOM!" Ain't it?


I got to play with fire and sharp objects today.....they REALLY don't know me well do they?.....muahahahahhaa.....they are falling for my evil plan....

I was cutting candles in half with a hatchet (Yes, a hatchet) and putting them into lanterns which required me to melt the bottoms and burn wicks and all.

A hatchet is not a precision cutting tool.

Thank god I am the candle cutting mastah!

I am the Candle Cutting guru...I got damn good with that hatchet today.....I like the knife i used the other day better (yes, this is the SECOND day they've let me play with sharp objects and fire) but the hatchet was fun.

And I have all five fingers on both hands! yay!

Last but not least......

The park has multiple bits of property....we're not one big contiguous park...we're a big park and then a couple little parks.

One of the 'little' parks consists of 3,000 feet of preserved earthworks of what was formerly the largest inland earthen fort built during the War between the States. (There's a little Southern Trivia for you.) [see the lower right corner of the above map. The little green blob is Fortress Rosecrans.]

What's left of Fortress Rosecrans is some earth mounds covered in native plants and grasses.....and a lot of trees. It would be completely unrecognizeable to someone from 1863.


Native plants and grasses + little used pathways = Snakeville.


Remember....I'm Irish...I don't like snakes. I don't care how big it is....me no likey snakey!


The first one I saw wasn't too bad....it was just a little guy....about seven inches long.....a baby really.....

I didn't stick around to find out if it had brothers or sisters....or a mama or papa.....it's lucky I didn't toss it into the creek and scream.....

I was on my way back to the car when something caught my eye....it was the fact that part of a tree moved.....a strip of bark.....that wasn't bark.

Nope...at about shoulder height (meaning about five feet or so) was the tail of a snake. So where's the head?...going DOWN THE TREE TRUNK! This mother fucker was HUGE! I didn't stick around to find out exactly where the head was on that one either....I booked it and didn't look back.

Thinking back, I'm wondering of making friends with the snake wouldn't have been my better option because of what happened next.

I can see the parking lot from the trail.

I can see the van that pulled in shortly after I did.

I can see a pick up truck next to the van.

I can see that there is someone in that pick up truck is a man.

Note: Just before I left for the fort, I was told that the fortress (or what's left of it) is a Nationally known pick up spot for gay guys. Apparently these guys go out and watch for single guys, give the secret eyebrow wiggle and then get jiggy back in the dense forests. I don't know why I was told this...I am a girl....a gay guy looking for a quick pick up is NOT going to go for Busty Bess here. The only reason a gay guy is going to come anywhere near me is to tell me what a fasion trainwreck my brown polyester pants are. Trust me, in 90 degree heat with humidity, polyester is NOT a good idea.

Hell, polyester isn't a good idea in ANY temperature.

Maybe I'll name my kid Polyester....then we can call her Poly or Ester or whatever we want......come on...what kid isn't going to be scared shitless when I below out "Polyester Nymphadora (fill in last name here)! you get your bony little ass down here right now!"

I'm way off subject......

Anyway, so gay guys have a tendency to use the abandoned snake filled left overs of a fortress as a pick up area.....kind of apporpriate really...when you take into consideration that it once housed over 50,000 Union soldiers.

OK, so I see that there's a guy in the truck..but I'm thinking there's no way this hombre is gay.

Motorcycle Papa.....even if he is gay...we know who's pitching.

Truck Man is on the phone. I figure "OK, so he was driving and didn't want to wreck the truck while driving down the road and talking on the cell. Probably can't dip and talk on the phone and drive and load the shotgun at the same time."

Do you have a mental picture in your head yet? I'm talking about a big fat ugly Redneck. He's doing what Redneck's do best...sitting in his truck. Not only is he a redneck..he's a "High Tech" red neck because home slice has a cell phone.

I walk down the path a little more when I realize that Home slice is talking on the phone and seems pretty damn happy.....

Especially since his 'free' hand ain't so free....

If you catch my drift....

And if you don't.....


The Pervert was Jacking off like a fiend!


There! Now do you get it!?!?!?! I'm out at the park, having my nice little stroll in my ugly assed polyester pants and there's a dude, sititng in a public parking lot BEATING HIS MEAT LIKE IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD!


I don't know whether to laugh or gouge my eyeballs out of my head.

I opt for becoming very interested in my notebook and walking to my car while trying not to laugh.

This is the mental image I want you to have for the rest of your life becasue I have to be burdened with it for mine.

Big Fat ugly Redneck...

I'm talking Big

Fat

Ugly

Hairy

Meat Beating

perving

Dirty

Tattoo'd

Biker Papa

Monkey Spanking

Chicken Choking

Cell phone talking

900 number dialing

REDNECK

There.....now you try to go to sleep on THAT little jewel....me, I'm gonna try not to hurl up dinner.

I'm sure other things will spark my muse and I'll post them here...of course.

But the masturbating redneck I just had to share that with you.

Hope your summer is going as damn skippy as mine is!