Past The Velvet Rope
B-Town Boyz
Huffington Post
xkcd (webcomic)
Stile Project
Urban Dictionary

Powered by Blogger

30 August 2005

been a long time coming

I’m trying something new, so if the formatting here doesn’t work right, I won’t do it again. blogger has made a macro of some sort for word, so I can type up my post in word and then publish it straight from here. therefore, it also as spell check since I type too fast, but it also capitalizes “i”s, etc. **grrr**

I know I haven’t been blogging lately and I apologize. work has been getting crazy, and we’ve started working later and later everyday to help the customer reach their impossible schedule date. blah, so to catch up.

saturday night, the crew (me, emma, paul, adam, and lael) all went to dinner and drinking downstairs at cheers. lots of drinking was had since it was drinking night (get to sleep in on sunday). we ended up back at lael’s for an after party. he got 4 foster’s and a bottle of royal challenge (RC) whiskey for the room. drinking, drinking, laughing, laughing. while we were waiting for the RC and fosters, we found a double-deuce of kingfisher beer in his fridge, so emma, me, and lael passed that around bum-style (without the paper bag). I believe there were pictures taken but nothing as incriminating as last time. I’m not sure how, but lael apparently wanted to trash his room. now that we have the nicer suites with a fridge, we get fruit daily. I’m informed that I was egged on and wasn’t doing it maliciously, but I decided to start throwing fruit ALL OVER the room. fun fun. we had a bag of ice that was frozen solid, so lael slammed it against the wall to break it. the puny Indian bag had no chance and ice shards showered everywhere. being the waste minded person he is, lael just picked up the ice off the floor and put it in our drinks. I stumbled on over to my room, and strangely enough, the next thing I remember isn’t my bed, or even the toilet, it was standing outside in the parking lot. must’ve gotten bored and wandered out there. I say it was a drunk terror. kinda like a night terror but you’re drunk, you don’t know what you are doing, and it’s best not to sober the person up, just lure them back to their room with promise of a drink, then once they are they knock them onto the bed and lock them in. keep this in mind if you ever run into someone having a drunk terror.

on sunday I slept in a bit. we were invited to see a hindi movie by ramesh, the guy who’s been promising to take me around town for 7 months. JEBUS!!! anyways, we went to see “mangal pandey – the rising”. strangely enough it wasn’t too bad. it was 80-90% hindi, but there was some English. it is a true story about the Indian rebellion against the red coats and the East India Company during the late 1800’s. the storyline is very much “braveheart with Indians with a major british corporation”. the movie was about 2.5 hours and there was an intermission about 1.5 hours in. emma and I went down to get some popcorn outside during the intermission, and ramesh came down with paul a minute or two later, and he said it was very easy to find us in the all Indian crowd, he just had to go where everyone was looking. after the movie, we went back and picked up lael and went to ramesh’s house (another thing he’s been promising me for 7 months) for dinner. we met his wife, srivani. she has a law degree but doesn’t practice (ramesh is a lawyer btw). she’s a very lovely lady, way too nice and pretty for ramesh, but hey even a blind squirrel gets a nut once in a while. she cooked a lovely dinner of roti (thin pitas kinda), curd, some cabbagey-saurkrauty deal that was very good (they called it curry, but it was way different from any curry I’ve had here). then we had some curd rice which is just boiled white rice and yogurt. it was pretty good. we had homemade fruit salad in custard for dessert. I’m not into sweets and we were stuffed as she fed us like a grandma would. she said I couldn’t leave until I finished so I feigned not finishing just so I could stay. I don’t know why people invite me to their houses, I’m either rude for shits and giggles, or, well no that’s about it, I’m rude. this time I was more culturally insulting as I was flirting with his wife by wanting to stay. I said if she ever wanted to just get away from ramesh for a night, I have two beds in my hotel room. good lord, what is wrong with me, I wasn’t even drunk. it seemed like I didn’t offend anyone, so it was fun. we met his parents. his dad is a squat little man, resembling a bit of a hobbit but very nice and a lawyer (ramesh is a 3rd generation lawyer). we teased him that he didn’t let his wife practice because she’d beat the pants off of him. his dad spoke really good English and asked a lot of the typical questions – where are you from? how do you like the weather,? etc. Ramesh’s mother is very nice too but quiet, she doesn’t know English very much, so she spent a good bit of time in the meditation room which was a nicely tiled room where they get together as a family and with neighbors once a week to reflect and pray, etc. it was pretty neat. Ramesh’s father “showed” us HIS father who is 100. I say showed because I thought it was funny the way he mentioned it. we actually saw the grandpa when we first entered the house in the downstairs foyer but didn’t know who he was. Ramesh’s dad said, “ would you like to see my father? he’s stone deaf.” not would you like to “meet” my father, no “would you like to see my father?” like it’s petting zoo. his father didn’t speak, I’m guessing because he couldn’t hear us. Ramesh tells us he’s still very sharp. he translates texts (I forget which kind) from English into the local language, telugu for hours and hours a day. so we bid farewell and went back to the hotel for some drinks. some funny pictures were taken, I don’t have any of them but if I can steal emma’s camera, I’ll link some later.

next comes monday... yesterday... worked late because of the typical ranting I’ve had about the customer not being very organized and being way past our first fire date. the EHS on this site leaves a lot to be desired, and it doesn’t improve since being safe doesn’t make the customer money, progress and milestones do. it bit me in the ass last night. there are two garage door entrances to the turbine hall on the north and south sides of the building, and a recently installed regular doorway entrance on the west wall that is closest to our office so I took that way. it’s not well lit and the housekeeping here is horrid, stray pipes and hoses and debris (pronounced de-briss) laying around. so I go through the door, walk to the left acrossa scaffolding plank, right towards the PEECC (my destination) and I BIT IT. I rolled my right ankle (the one I damaged at the titty bar right before I came to India, jared saw me take out 2 guys at the urinal just to stay up) on a stray pipe, and in my attempt to correct myself my left foot got tangled in a waste water hose that had no purpose being where it was doing what it was doing. this all culminated in my fat ass hitting the ground like a brick. landing on my left hand and rolled to my back to take a record of what hurt. left index – possibly broken, very sore, can’t bend… right ankle, fukked, throbbing, no good… that’s about it. 4 tiny Indians who saw me go down rushed over to help me, almost too enthusiastically like they’d go to jail for seeing a white man fall down. so they helped me up, cursed at the nasty things that tripped me or something, and helped me limp into the PEECC. there I realized that my finger REALLY hurt but I think only sprained, my ankle REALLY hurt, but, well no it’s still fukked, but my ribs. I kinda fell with my elbow jamming into my ribs kinda like about this time last year when I was mud-sliding at jambo and broke some ribs. same ribbal area too. loverly. went home and drank the pain away. while drinking I had a painful giggle fit. (DISCLAIMER: from here on, all paraphrasing, there may exist some inconsistencies in the story). I was talking about wanting a leather ankle brace (due to my recent gimpiness) and she said it would stink. I’m like, duh, I’ll wash it , she said you can’t wash leather, and I’m like, cows don’t shrink in the rain. she reply “cows are live leather, that’s different”. so I’m like, live leather? wtf, it’s not a baseball glove, you can’t throw a baseball at it… and in unison, we’re both --- MOOOOO!!! I’m not dead yet!!! we were rolling. it was classic. I hope I butchered that story enough that you can all find the same humor I did. I mean, bad ribs and all, I couldn’t stop laughing for like 5-10 minutes. I was crying and I don’t laugh to the point of crying, it was that good.

that’s enough updating for now, I’ll try to make it more regular,
---O--- ---U--- ---T---


Blogger swedish chef dave said...


i wish i was working with ya in India, sounds a hoot with all the locals thinking your the God of Rudeness, they will be beating a path to your door with deformed children and grannies with oozing boils asking for your rudeness as a cure all, keep up the good work

6:31 PM, August 31, 2005  
Anonymous mom said...

your fingers should be BLEEDING after that saga. you never cease to amaze me.. we may have to make a movie of your life someday, only how do you cram your eventful life into 2 hours?? keep it up!

11:06 AM, September 03, 2005  

Post a Comment

<< Home