Good news, children. I got a job. Ish. For a while, at least.
Ever wondered how construction sites get so clean after being absolutely filthy during construction? Yeah, me neither. Let's be honest. Nobody really walks into a new building and goes "Wow. These carpets are quite well vacuumed!" You're not going to do that. You're going to enjoy the building itself; not the cleaning.
But that's what I do. I'm like a House-Elf. I sweep, wash walls, vacuum things, and do that kind of stuff. That monstrous 'Early Childhood Development' building that they're building up on campus? Yeah. That's mine. It's got lotsa floors and lotsa walls. I wash them all.
Turns out, it's just about the best job ever. I just turn on some crappy Dan Brown book and get to work, only stopping to ask my brother what the score is on the World Cup game. 8 hours later, I go home. 9 dollar-an-hour no-brainer. Just thought you oughta know.
And for all I've heard about the horrors of construction, I actually love it. It's chaos. Fantastichaos. Everybody seems to be spitting sunflower seeds, smiling, laughing in Spanish (really), or all three at once. Many of the workers speak very little English. No problem! Josh and I got punk'd pretty good by an angry looking man who stormed up to us as we entered the building. "Where your hard hat? Hard hat!" We didn't have any protective gear, so we spluttered something about how we were working upstairs and...but he was laughing at us. Very hard. His friends working in the surrounding area started giggling at us as well. "Got you! Joke, joke!"
What I thought would be a hazardous zone full of hardened, tattooed barbarians turned out to be the best place I have ever worked. Everyone is polite, everyone just does their job. Bearded men chatter away about World Cup as they lift huge panels of glass. Though covered in dust, grime, paint, and drywall, nearly everyone can be heard whistling or singing at some point. At one point, we heard a loud bang and a scream, but instead of angry shouting, we heard loud laughter. There are electrician-type guys balancing on massive stilts. Men carrying massive tools, performing improbable feats of skill, defying death, all to discordant music: it's like Construction Zone Cirque du Soleil!
Glory be. Didn't mean to gush like that. This blog is about me hating things. Better get my head in the game.
Also, kudos to David Villa (pronounced Dah-veed Veeya) for being a swashbuckling Spaniard. *Spanish Bow* He's a real man.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
Stanley and Such (Part 1)
Welcome back to another exciting installment of me complaining about things.
This past week I had the opportunity to trek some 300 miles northward into that heart of darkness that is Stanley, Idaho. Blimey. 300 miles looks bigger on my blog than it did on my map.
In any case, myself and a few choice others loaded up three cars and shoved off to the Great White North; a land of mystery, passion, untamed beauty, and endless possibility beckoned, but we went to Stanley instead.
The first stop on our journey, however, was Mordor. And by Mordor, I of course mean Craters of the Moon National Parkument. Following a "short" "one-mile" "walk," I found myself in a cave. Here. Look.
Ignore the other people in this picture. Instead, pay careful attention to the 'Hazard' sign. I was in incredible danger. There was ice, lichen, a very distraught pigeon, and a Balrog.
Moving away from Lord of the Rings references, my next stop on the long and winding road to Stanley was Arco. I had been forewarned that Arco was a town with like two buildings in it, but was pleasantly surprised to discover that Arco has at least four.
One such building was The Pickle Place. I can't make this stuff up. As everyone knows that Arco is famous for being the first town in the United States to be powered by nuclear power (duh!), The Pickle Place's signature meal was aptly named The Atomic Burger. It was massive, dripping with mushrooms, sticky with special sauce, and bolstered by a bulbous beef patty. But I didn't get that. I got something else.
And then we were off again. I'll spare you the comparisons of the Sawtooth Mountains to Rohan or whatnot. But seriously, it looked like we were driving into Rohan or something. Several hours of extremely uninteresting driving followed, save for the occasional sighting of board games crossing the highway. Then, just as I began to doubt that Stanley even existed, I turned out of a canyon and found myself in Switzerland.
You'd think there would be a sign or something. But no. You're driving along, minding your own business, trying not to annoy the dusty Jeep behind you, when all of a sudden, spectacular mountain scenery engsmsplodes into view.
We had arrived! Glory be! Unfortunately, now that we had made it to Stanley, we were faced with the most complex challenge yet: what exactly does one do in Stanley?
Let's talk about Stanley. I am pleased to report that Stanley is an attractive fishing town, known for its nearby lakes flush with fish, far removed from the throes of tourism, and charmingly rustic. Unfortunately, showers have been hunted to extinction in the Stanley region, and a decent cell phone signal is hard to come by. Otherwise, it's a pleasure to visit Stanley. He's a nice guy who just needs to improve his hygiene and maybe shave off that neck-beard.
I don't fish often, and when I do, I don't succeed. Luckily for me, I found out that Stanley offers more to the average Sam than just fishing Redfish in Redfish Lake. There are lots of fun activities, such as throwing people into lakes, giving things rustic names ('Busterback Ranch'), stopping those kittens from become roadkill, and adopting a highway. Seriously. If you haven't adopted a highway in Stanley, you're a nobody.
And after you've done all those things, you can make up some things to do! Like learning to run like an angry pregnant gnome! Or assembling a griddle the wrong way and burning your windguard! Or, my personal favorite, hiking to an extremely dangerous-looking rope swing high in the mountains! Here's me, living dangerously.
Unfortunately, due to some circumstances, I had to leave a day and a half early. I've been told that after I left, the sky wept all day, pouring punishing rain upon Stanley and the surrounding area.
But, barring an unfortunate incident with some bacon, all went well for both those remaining in the land of the Horse Lords and myself, journeying home. An all around fun trip. Brace yourself for more details regarding the 'circumstances' sometime soon.
To sum it all up, if you're ever in the Sawtooth region of Idaho, make sure you visit Stanley. Odds are, however, your visit to Stanley is the only reason you'd ever visit the Sawtooth region of Idaho. That or you're chasing a party of Uruk-Hai westward across the plain.
Also, kudos to something truly wonderful. Firefly, though I didn't know you when you were alive, you have enriched my life greatly.
This past week I had the opportunity to trek some 300 miles northward into that heart of darkness that is Stanley, Idaho. Blimey. 300 miles looks bigger on my blog than it did on my map.
In any case, myself and a few choice others loaded up three cars and shoved off to the Great White North; a land of mystery, passion, untamed beauty, and endless possibility beckoned, but we went to Stanley instead.
The first stop on our journey, however, was Mordor. And by Mordor, I of course mean Craters of the Moon National Parkument. Following a "short" "one-mile" "walk," I found myself in a cave. Here. Look.
Ignore the other people in this picture. Instead, pay careful attention to the 'Hazard' sign. I was in incredible danger. There was ice, lichen, a very distraught pigeon, and a Balrog.
Moving away from Lord of the Rings references, my next stop on the long and winding road to Stanley was Arco. I had been forewarned that Arco was a town with like two buildings in it, but was pleasantly surprised to discover that Arco has at least four.
One such building was The Pickle Place. I can't make this stuff up. As everyone knows that Arco is famous for being the first town in the United States to be powered by nuclear power (duh!), The Pickle Place's signature meal was aptly named The Atomic Burger. It was massive, dripping with mushrooms, sticky with special sauce, and bolstered by a bulbous beef patty. But I didn't get that. I got something else.
And then we were off again. I'll spare you the comparisons of the Sawtooth Mountains to Rohan or whatnot. But seriously, it looked like we were driving into Rohan or something. Several hours of extremely uninteresting driving followed, save for the occasional sighting of board games crossing the highway. Then, just as I began to doubt that Stanley even existed, I turned out of a canyon and found myself in Switzerland.
You'd think there would be a sign or something. But no. You're driving along, minding your own business, trying not to annoy the dusty Jeep behind you, when all of a sudden, spectacular mountain scenery engsmsplodes into view.
We had arrived! Glory be! Unfortunately, now that we had made it to Stanley, we were faced with the most complex challenge yet: what exactly does one do in Stanley?
Let's talk about Stanley. I am pleased to report that Stanley is an attractive fishing town, known for its nearby lakes flush with fish, far removed from the throes of tourism, and charmingly rustic. Unfortunately, showers have been hunted to extinction in the Stanley region, and a decent cell phone signal is hard to come by. Otherwise, it's a pleasure to visit Stanley. He's a nice guy who just needs to improve his hygiene and maybe shave off that neck-beard.
I don't fish often, and when I do, I don't succeed. Luckily for me, I found out that Stanley offers more to the average Sam than just fishing Redfish in Redfish Lake. There are lots of fun activities, such as throwing people into lakes, giving things rustic names ('Busterback Ranch'), stopping those kittens from become roadkill, and adopting a highway. Seriously. If you haven't adopted a highway in Stanley, you're a nobody.
And after you've done all those things, you can make up some things to do! Like learning to run like an angry pregnant gnome! Or assembling a griddle the wrong way and burning your windguard! Or, my personal favorite, hiking to an extremely dangerous-looking rope swing high in the mountains! Here's me, living dangerously.
Unfortunately, due to some circumstances, I had to leave a day and a half early. I've been told that after I left, the sky wept all day, pouring punishing rain upon Stanley and the surrounding area.
But, barring an unfortunate incident with some bacon, all went well for both those remaining in the land of the Horse Lords and myself, journeying home. An all around fun trip. Brace yourself for more details regarding the 'circumstances' sometime soon.
To sum it all up, if you're ever in the Sawtooth region of Idaho, make sure you visit Stanley. Odds are, however, your visit to Stanley is the only reason you'd ever visit the Sawtooth region of Idaho. That or you're chasing a party of Uruk-Hai westward across the plain.
Also, kudos to something truly wonderful. Firefly, though I didn't know you when you were alive, you have enriched my life greatly.
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