| Straight
from the holler.
by "Buck" February 6, 2007 Well, things are finally back to normal at the Buck Ranch west of Charleston. We were among the several thousand homesteaders who had to live like it was Little House on the Prairie over the weekend. The water company was working on a 36-inch main line (that’s a three-foot in diameter pipe to Jeff Kay and others who are mechanically inept). It is probably significant to note that this was in Jeff Kay’s former hometown of Dunbar. Well, there they were performing some routine maintenance on the line. This required a valve to be shut off. The repairs were completed and it was time to turn the water into the area they were working back on. This is where problems arose when the valve shit the bed and refused to reopen. They “stripped the threads” according to the account on the news. Well, a valve replacement, especially on a 36-inch line, is no easy task. So the boys at “water central” got busy with their backhoes and jackhammers a blazing. The initial reports indicated there would be a “brief” outage for a few hours and the valve correction would be complete and life would return to normal. However, the workers were apparently a little too zealous in their efforts. Somewhere in the process of digging out the valve, they broke a main natural gas line—sending the foul odor of gas wafting into the now stinky town of Dunbar. All of the sudden, the process got a whole lot harder. You have to remember, just a week ago several people were killed when a propane tank blew up at a gas station around here. So everybody is very tuned to gas leaks and explosions—and a main gas line holds about a zillion times more explosive gas than a propane tank. Therefore, the gas leak became the top priority—everybody was evacuated, folks were freaking out. Well, it took until dark to get the gas line fixed and the prognosis for the water went to noon on Saturday. To make matters worse it was snowing and cold enough to freeze your giblets. Long story short…no water at our ranch until noon on Saturday—and until Sunday night we had to boil it before drinking to keep all of the deadly microbes from entering the system. I chose to stick with Pepsi Cola and Mt. Dew since I really have no desire for some kind of parasite eating at my intestines. For some reason, our little development on the rear end of the line didn’t have water, but everybody across the highway did. Therefore, I got up at 2:00 Saturday morning, put on my sausage pants and jacket, slipped on my boots and aviator’s fur-lined cap, got into my pickup truck, ground it into four wheel drive, and stopped at the Speedway. There I proceeded to take a half-hour Hiroshima Shit. I finished walked straight out, got in the truck, went home and went back to bed. I wonder if this is how Laura Ingles had to live? In other news, I’m convinced we have a homosexual on staff here. I went into the bathroom here at work to take a leak this morning and there on the contemporary basin stand was the latest edition of Marie Claire. Who among the guy set reads this? I’ve heard of the magazine from a co-worker, but never actually seen one. It’s in the men’s room among the Sports Illustrated and Popular Mechanics. Good grief. I did notice on the cover one of the featured stories was, “Great Sex, What Men Wish You Knew.” Obviously it was a two-word article. BLOW JOB. A buddy of mine here at work was talking about the Super Bowl and mentioned that his son’s girlfriend called DURING THE GAME! Who the hell calls somebody during the Super Bowl? Hell, I had the phone on automatic message. If it’s important they’ll call back. Do NOT interrupt the viewing of the game and the consuming of dead chicken flesh with unimportant shit like, “My mom is in the hospital.” Some people are so classless. To review the Super Bowl however, I must say it was quite a game and afterward I was happy for Peyton Manning. He’s my favorite player, but had to be a little disappointed for Thomas Jones. The guy did the old home town proud and I have to give him that. Too bad they didn’t use him a little more, I have a feeling if Rex Grossman could have thrown just a few passes to soften up the Colts defense, and Jones could have really done some damage. Hopefully he’ll get another shot at sometime in his career. A woman with whom I work tells me of an experience she had last week that probably would have caused me to immediately melt into a coma. She said she was in Lerner, reached to pick up a blouse, and a MAN said to her in a lispy tone, “I was just thinking that would look fabulous on you!” She said he went on to say he was from out of town and there were no good men’s stores in Charleston. There’s a surprise, guess he wasn’t looking for flannel and denim. But he selected two women’s blouses—one white, one gray—and asked her opinion. She suggested gray, he liked the white—said it went better with his tan. She disagreed and they had a lispy discussion for several more minutes. I’m pretty sure I would have fainted from all of the gayness in the room, sort of like Ricky Bobby in the Pit-Stop scene. Buck Out |
