Maybe Later

It’s just damn near five in the morning here and I just now got home from work and sat down. It’s already getting light outside for cryin’ out loud.

I’m getting too damn old for this crap.

Anyways, enough whining.

I haven’t bothered to try figuring out how to schedule posts so they show up later like Kenny does yet

Another maybe later item.

Before I left for work yesterday the Wifely Unit already had a bunch of shit lined up for me to do later today, hauling brush and shit to the recycler. Of course I gotta rake it all up and load it first.

I’m also supposed to be picking a little something up I found locally on OFFERUP if the guy comes through.

He seems a little flakey and because of the shift I work I had to make arrangements last Tuesday to find him after he gets off work later this afternoon.

He’s only twenty minutes away if that so if he answers my message and I get directions it should be a quick in and out.

We shall see. It may or may not be a pretty smoking good deal, it’s going to depend on what I find after I get the fucker home.

If he doesn’t shine me on.

Anyways, I think I’m going to get a small amount of groceries down my neck, do a short bit of internet browsing and more than likely sit here and fall asleep with this laptop sitting on my lap now.

I’m fucking beat man.

I’ll probably try an catch up and post something later this afternoon.

10 thoughts on “Maybe Later

  1. Phil if you are on the standard WP platform it is super easy …Click publish once when done. Then click publish immediately below and it will open a calendar to schedule. Hope that helps.

    Like

  2. You are too old for that shit, Men over 58 should not be expected to work like a 18 year old mule. That is why God made young men to do that kind of slave labor.

    Like

  3. I’ll try my hand at making your day a little brighter. I was on Bits And Pieces
    this morning and found a great Hipsterbucks meme. This brought back an old
    memory. I did some fieldwork at the Terminal Island Treatment Plant We
    called it the turd farm. One of my coworkers started referring to the brown
    floaters as Snickers Bars. I challenged the Blogger at B&P to walk down a
    candy aisle and not be reminded of my story.

    Thirty fracking years later, and I STILL think of Tim when I see a Snickers Bar!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Damn you can be a sadistic bastard.
      I love that about you.
      Ya sick fucker, my kinda guy.
      I have been in those treatment plants. Can you imagine being the guy that has to fix the big shit stirrer?
      Not if my life depended on it pal.

      Like

        • Oh Lordy, That’s one club I have zero interest in joining. But since we somehow got on this subject, I do remember having to get down inside the septic tank behind my Grandmothers house one time and empty it out using a five gallon bucket. We had to dig and scrape all the dirt off the lid, it just had a sheet of steel on top. We had to flip that over and in I went.
          Let me tell you that I could have kissed whoever invented those big rubber boots farmers wear right on the lips that day.

          Like

      • I never had the pleasure Phil, but I have been known to stir up
        a lot of shit in the figurative sense. Sadistic? You fucking bet!
        Try walking past a candy counter without recalling that story.

        Trust me working at the TI treatment plant was a hell of a lot
        less disgusting than the job I did at the Cathey Bank in Los
        Angeles. It was a Chinese government-owned bank in
        Chinatown. I had to go down in the basement through the
        counting room. There was a four-foot-tall door and inside
        there was a 10 or 12-foot long deep well shit pump. I opened
        the peckerhead and disconnected the motor leads and conduit.

        Thank goodness the installation was well thought out. I
        squeezed a ladder into this 4×4 foot room to hang a chain-
        fall, removed the ladder and started hoisting it up bit by
        bit.

        The odiferous emanation was so bad it would drive the
        maggots off a Civil War gut wagon! Pull it up a foot and
        hose the fucker off and repeat until it cleared the plate
        and angled the bastard out on a dolly as I lowered it through
        the opening. I was young dumb and full of (you know the
        rest) and was doing this solo without help. I rigged it up
        to hoist it up the stairs. If the smell of second-hand
        Chinee food were not enough, I made the mistake of
        shining a light into the pit. The sight of used Kotexes
        floating on top of the water was gag-inducing!

        The TITP plant smelled like roses compared to this
        experience. It was a long time before I could order
        Chinese food after that job.

        Like

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