Tuesday, February 27, 2007


I posted about Rebecca Riley's death the other day...if you thought that was bad, check this out: Bad craziness
I knew there was more to this story...and boy! Was I right.
And how about those mugshots? Wow.
As you know, I'm prone to understatement, but this guy needs to be given an overdose of clonodine, tied to a chair and beaten to death by 4 year old girls wielding ball peen hammers. She needs to be sterilized with a cattle prod and then thrown into a cell for the rest of her life. As far as the other "adults" in the house, there's this "chamber" at the "humane society" that,if folded just right, they could fit in.
As far as the "professionals" involved in the case,revoke,disbar,terminate,prosecute.
Who in their right mind would diagnose a 28 month old child with Bipolar disorder? Not to mention ADHD. Come on...and this from Tufts...renowned for their good works?
And the social service agencies that let them walk away from intervention? I understand caseloads and the cracks that people fall through, but...he was charged with sex crimes, against a minor member of his family.
I'd like to think a "child protective" agency would pay attention to a history like that.Not to mention the rage/violence stuff. She got a restraining order for a reason, but it's lapse was not responded to? That's some shitty service any way you dice it up.
I can tell those two are not right just by looking at those pictures. That's not stress and grief in those affects, that's just plain nuts. That the "professionals" involved missed such an obvious visual cue is, well, just plain nuts as well.
This scenario has played itself out across the country for years, but this case is a perfect example of everyone dropping the ball.
And that ball was Rebecca...

I talked to my doctors office this morning,and it turns out I did fracture a rib after all. It's much improved, but still bothers me at night. I guess I'm gonna suck it up and fill that script for vicodin tomorrow. I forget my age sometimes...I just don't bounce back like I used to, instead of one bounce,it takes 3 or 4. Or 21.
We finished the smaller sconce lights before lunch today, 10 in half the time it took us to do 14 yesterday. Repetition has it's merits I guess. Spent the afternoon wiring the pole lights in the back lot. Steve had to go to a meeting about another job, so I was on my own for an hour or so, making joints. These are 480 volt lights, which, if you get hit by it will turn you into burnt weenie sandwich. I knew the home run wasn't tied in yet, and verified (twice) that the breakers were off. But still, every time I applied my strippers to the conducting wires, I hesitated and gazed off in the distance at the panel and wondered " has some jackass turned those breakers back on and I didn't see them do it "? Electrocution tends to stick with you for a while,plus there were other service personnel working in proximity of the panel after all. Ahh, I legitimize my paranoia!
Anyhoo, Steve made up the joints to the home run when he got back and we tested the lights and they all worked just fine. You couldn't even smell any electricity :).
And that's another cool thing about my job, I made those lights work, and as a result of my efforts folks can walk to their cars at night in a well illuminated lot. I guess all that really means is they will see their assailant coming.
Happy to oblige, oh yes I am.
On a musical note,today we got "The ultimate Yes" 3 cd compilation. It commemorates the bands 35th anniversary (in 2004) 31 slices of prog rock at it's finest.

Monday, February 26, 2007


Yesterday I alluded to songs that make your tear ducts lose control. Perhaps I wasn't direct enough...I really want to know. What songs cause you to weep? Unlike most humans with a penis, I'm not shy about crying (thanks Dad for that) when the time is right...I mean I don't cry when I hurt myself. That would be unmanly. I didn't cry when I got electrocuted, and that shit hurt. I cried later in private after that experience, realizing that I could have died. But I got over it quick and sucked it up, like a man should.
Ann has been driving me mostly crazy since we got home searching for songs on the interweb and playing them. She has a penchant for western swing, which, for me amounts to an icepick and my eardrums and repeated in out, in out...until I'm deaf, or dead...or both, preferably. There I am, laying dead with an HEB $2.99 wooden handled ice pick sticking out of my left ear. And on the handle is carved " western swing did this man...HARD" Seriously...I hate that shit.
But, as far as cry music goes I like:

Fire and Rain (Taylor)

And you and I (Yes)

Spanish Boots (Dylan)

Sweet Baby James (Taylor)

And the list goes on and on...
What about you? Huh???

And we installed 14 of them today on the outside of a retail establishment. We have 10 more to install tomorrow, then 8 larger ones for the business next door. We could have used a ground man,but we managed just fine.
It was a beautiful day to be working outside.
After work I went to the hall and got my vacation fund check, shortly after I got home, Ann arrived...before dark no less! After discussing what to do about dinner we went to The Shoal Creek Saloon. All manner of fried stuff and cajun food. It was awesome. The food was hot and fresh, the service was good and you can smoke on the patio. Ann had catfish, I had the catfish/crawfish combo...we split an order of fries.
We'll be going back.

Sunday, February 25, 2007


Somewhere in the distance, there are seven more people born.

Let's think about that for a minute...

I've been playing make you cry CD's...What's yer favorite tunes to shed tears by?
I gotta shitload.
You know, loss is an interesting thing. We all lose things in life. Things, you know, teeth, hair, body mass, people, parents. Everyone of us loses.
But the loss that effects me most is the loss of a pet, to be specific, the loss of a dog.
Sullivan recently passed and it hit me hard. With his passing, I relived the passing of those that came before him...Murphy, Buddy, Diamond, Cypress.
Dogs...we still have two. Our babies, our sweet things. They won't be here forever, but I burn them into my memory.
Good doggies, keep sucking me in.


two black dogs...:(/:)


So...I go see Rasor, he's glad to see me, it's been awhile. He's been my doc for about 15 years, but it's been about a year since I've seen him. He gives me the once over and checks my blood pressure. It's high ( what a surprise, I haven't been on my meds for a year) and we discuss options. I don't like to take pills, so we agree on a two pill once a day regimen. he gives me a months worth of samples and a script for lodine and vicodin for the ribs and sends me to an xray office, where a kind of strange girl takes many pictures of my ribs. No cracks or breaks, just a giant hematoma. A painful, giant hematoma.
While I was waiting at the house for my appointment, I knocked my bong over and gave my laptop a fatal load of bongwater to the on/off button, effectively killing it.
It was a freebie laptop from our guitar player LT and on it's last legs, but still...no computer!
So...I bought a new one.
Now, you think this would be a simple matter...NO. My laptop was set up on our dining room table, and wanting it back as a dining table ended up in a complete redesign of our dining, living and computer area. I spent my entire saturday cleaning and rearranging and today I got my desk out of Sullivans room. ( even after time has past it was hard to go in there...it made me sad.)
So here I sit at my newly resurrected desk, typing out bullshit on my new computer.
And watching my satan bobblehead bobble with each keystroke and thinking about Sully.

Friday, February 23, 2007


The week started out with me going to the doctor for my ribs. I called in sick and went to Pro-Med. They don't accept my insurance. I can pay 85 to see the doc and 75 for x-rays. Fuck that...I'm all about my doc...Doc Razor, details to follow tomorrow.

Friday, February 16, 2007



When this guy farts, only dogs can hear it.

(from left to right...Accusing prosecutors finger, a Stephen King impersonator and a chick goofed on qualuudes. )

Early on the morning of Dec. 13, police officers responding to a 911 call
arrived at a house in Hull, Mass., a seaside town near Boston, and
found a 4-year-old girl on the floor of her parents’ bedroom, dead.

She was lying on her side, in a pink diaper, the police said, sprawled across some discarded magazines and a stuffed brown bear.

Last week, prosecutors in Plymouth County charged the parents, Michael and
Carolyn Riley, with deliberately poisoning their daughterRebecca by giving her overdoses of prescription drugs to sedate her.

The police said the girl had been taking a potent cocktail of psychiatric
drugs since age 2, when she was given a diagnosis of attention deficit
disorder and bipolar disorder, which is characterized by mood

(Diagnosed with bipolar disorder at 2??? TWO??? Un-FUCKING-believable.)

The parents have pleaded not guilty, with their lawyers questioning whether
the child should have been prescribed such powerful drugs.
( Now there's a suprise. )

The case has shaken a region known for the excellence of its social and
medical services. The director of the state’s Department of Social
Services has had to defend his agency, which had been investigating the
case before the girl’s death.

The girl’s treating psychiatrist has taken a voluntary, paid leave until the case is resolved. And New Englanders
are raising questions that are now hotly debated within psychiatry, and
which have broad implications for how young children likeRebecca Riley are cared for.

Tufts-New England Medical Center, where the child was treated, released a
statement supporting its doctor and calling the care “appropriate and
within responsible professional standards.”

( Sure it was, you fucking whores to the pharmaceutical companies. )

Indeed, the practice of aggressive drug treatment for young children labeled
bipolar has become common across the country. In just the last decade, the rate of bipolar diagnosis in children under 13 has increased almost sevenfold, according
to a study based on hospital discharge records. And a typical treatment
includes multiple medications.

( I remember "Conduct Disorder", and
"Borderline Personality Disorder", and "Multiple Personality Disorder"
diagnosis' rolling in on the waves of new drugs that were flooding the
market...here we go again. )

Rebecca was taking Seroquel, an antipsychotic drug; Depakote, an equally powerful mood medication; and Clonidine, a blood pressure drug often prescribed to calm children.

( Can you believe a 2 year old was taking
this shit?...The rest of the article continues below and when I calm
down enough to think it through I'll post a commentary. )

The rising rates of diagnosis and medication use strike some doctors and
advocates for patients as a dangerous fad that exposes ever-younger
children to powerful drugs.Antipsychotics like Seroquel or Risperdal ,
which are commonly prescribed for bipolar disorder, can cause weight
gain and changes in blood sugar — risk factors for diabetes.

Some child psychiatrists say bipolar disorder has become an all-purpose label for aggression.

“Bipolar is absolutely being overdiagnosed
in children, and the major downside is that people then think they have
a solution and are not amenable to listening to alternatives,” which
may not include drugs, said Dr. Gabrielle Carlson, a professor of
psychiatry and pediatrics at Stony Brook University School of Medicine
on Long Island.

Paraphrasing H. L. Mencken, Dr. Carlson added, “Every serious problem has an easy solution that is usually wrong.”

Others disagree, insisting that increased awareness of bipolar disorder and use of some medications has benefited many children.

“The first thing to say is that the world does not see the kids we see; these are very difficult patients,” said Dr. John T. Walkup, a child and adolescent psychiatrist at the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine.

Dr. Walkup said that when drug treatment was done right, it could turn around the life of a child with a diagnosis of bipolar disorder.

Dr. Jean Frazier, director of child psychopharmacology
at Cambridge Health Alliance and an associate professor at Harvard,
said that up to three-quarters of children who exhibit bipolar symptoms
become suicidal, and that it is important to treat the problem as early
as possible.

“We’re talking about a serious illness with high
morbidity, and mortality,” Dr. Frazier said, “and for some of these
children the medications can be life-giving.”

Still, most child
psychiatrists agree that there are still questions about applying the
diagnosis to very young children. Recent research has found that most
children who receive the diagnosis are emotionally explosive but do not
go on to develop the classic features of the disorder, like euphoria.
They are far more likely to become depressed.

And many
therapists have found that some patients referred to them for bipolar
disorder are actually suffering from something else.

“Most of the patients I see who have been misdiagnosed have been told they have bipolar disorder,” said Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, a professor of psychiatry at Boston University who runs a trauma clinic.

“The diagnosis is made with no understanding of the context of their life,” Dr. van der Kolk said. “Then they’re put on these devastating medications and condemned to a life as a psychiatry patient.”

Details about what happened to Rebecca are still emerging. A relative of her mother, Carolyn Riley, 32, told the police that Rebecca seemed “sleepy and drugged” most days, according to the charging documents.

One preschool teacher said that at about 2 p.m. every day the girl came to life, “as if the medication Rebecca was on was wearing off,” according to the documents.

lawyers are also focusing on the question of medication. “What I want
to know,” said John Darrell, a lawyer for Mr. Riley, “is how in the
world you diagnose a 2-year-old and give her these strong medicines
that are not approved for children.”

A lawyer for Rebecca’s psychiatrist, Dr. Kayoko Kifuji of Tufts-New England Medical Center, did not return calls seeking comment.

Some experts say the temptation to medicate can be powerful.

very often want a quick fix,” Dr. Carlson said, “and doctors rarely
have much time to spend with them, and the great appeal of prescribing
a medication is that it’s simple.

“To me one of the miracle of children’s brains is that we don’t see more harm from these treatments.”

Wednesday, February 14, 2007


You know, the day roses are at least $20.00 a dozen. On the 13th, you can get them for 6 bucks at the HEB, in any color variation you want...same goes for the 15th, and every other day of the year. Needless to say, I don't buy roses on V day. I get a variety of different flowers (usually 3 bunches) and for a moment I am a floral designer. A retarded one, but at least I get the colors right. And Ann gets roses 4 times a year instead of one. It's a win win.
This years selection was no exception, the arrangement was uh, stilted to be kind, but the form and colors were right on the money. At least that's what Ann said.
The card was pretty good too, but the envelope was a challenge. I'll spare you the details.
Then on to dinner, my original plan was Red Lobster. But when we got there you'd think the Rolling Stones were playing there...cars were spilled out for a couple blocks on the street from the lot...so we went to Hill's cafe instead...a local roadhouse (since 1978 apparently...I remember them being around longer). No wait, perfect vibe, excellent service, and an awesome special 3 course meal. With choices no less! Ann had sirloin and shrimp on a sizzling skillet with a baked potato...salad to start. I had prime rib and shrimp with a loaded (ha!) baked potato and french onion soup to start. Our waitress was well versed and (almost) too down home perky, but she provided great service.
Kismet! We both said...it was meant to be.
And it made for a memorable V day, after all these years I can still see the sparkle in her eyes.
And that's a good feeling.
Hope you all had a good feeling too.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007


Comedy GOLD I tell ya...GOLD.


There's this awesome quote from Phil Lynott ( god rest his guts ) in the Thin Lizzy box set that I have stolen and made my own.
"When I'm in the USA (England), I say, I'm from Texas (Ireland). When I'm in Texas (Ireland), I say, I'm from Austin (Dublin). When I'm in Austin (Dublin), I say, I'm from South Austin.(Crumlin) When I'm in South Austin, I say, I'm from Garden Villa Estates. When I'm in Garden Villa Estates, I say, I'm from Garden Villa Lane (Leighlin Road). When I'm in Garden Villa Lane (Leighlin Road), I say, I'm a Clattenburg (Lynott)".
I love that quote...
Met the kids for lunch today...Sean is growing and (despite the periodic outbursts of I'm almost 2 and pissed) was very entertaining. I especially liked the way he punched his finger through his enchilada bites and considered them visually before shoving them in his mouth and nodding yes. Being a grandparent agrees with me, and that's a good thing, because we will have a grand daughter in the mix in early summer. That's what they were hoping for and couldn't be happier. I'm happy for them.
This ties into a number of coincidences around my purchase of said Thin Lizzy box set.
I bought a cap and shirt that say Ireland before, I got the box set, I bought The Departed ( about Irish gangs in Boston ) after. I learned i have a grand daughter coming, and this song is on the box set...

Little Girl In Bloom

Little girl in bloom
With happy heart you wipe aside
Any sadness, sorrow or gloom
Tomorrow you'll be a blushing bride
That loves her blushing groom

Little girl in bloom
You watch the men play cricket
From the window in your room
See the ball go from bat to wicket
Pass away the afternoon

Little girl in bloom
Carries a secret
The child she carries in her womb
She feels something sacred
She's gonna be a mammy soon

When your daddy comes home
Don't tell him till alone
When your daddy comes back
Go tell him the facts
Just relax and see how he's gonna react

Little girl in bloom
All the clouds will go drifting by
So sing your lullabying tune
Every word is in your eyes
As you sit and softly croon

Little girl in bloom
Your love it fills the air
With the scent of the sweetest, sweet perfume
You feel so good you just don't care
You're gonna be a mammy soon

When your daddy comes home
Don't tell him till alone
When your daddy comes back
Go tell him the facts
Just relax and see how he's gonna react

And finally...
...Laredo, we have a problem.

Monday, February 12, 2007


The riffs in Night Prowler tell me so.
I may or may not have metioned that what with the bad ass overtime I've been getting, I've been buying the reissues of the early AC/DC albums up to and including "Back in Black" featuring that annoying Ronnie James Dio looking scottish fuck in a Judd Hirsch
plaid button down cabbie hat cocked just enough to the side to scream "I'm an asshole and I will never replace Bon...Aussie bastard.
Along the way, I discovered a couple of jems..."Back in Baroque" a CD of AC/DC done chamber music style and "If you want strum...you got it" An acoustic country/alt take on the band. Nice.
Thank you bad ass overtime.

I tried to read Acts and Luke, but all that bible writing style frightened and confused me. So I did a google search and found a very comprehensive overview here.
I remembered most of this from sunday
school, but over the years it apparently has been nuanced by my ever
increasing cynicism about the nature of man ( people basically suck).
So, the stoner
version is this...Jesus was a really cool dude who set out to find
people in need of his product (whether they knew it or not) and had a
posse of apostles helping him spread the word, which they did...all
over the place. Most people were cool with Jesus and his posse, but
there were some that were threatened by the message and the movement,
and in a show oftheir displeasure they betrayed him and nailed him to a
fucking cross for his trouble. And he still forgave them. If I had of been Jesus, I would have been shooting lightning bolts of gawd into those murderous bastards ( which is why I'm not Jesus ) Besides, I'm an
electrician, not a carpenter.
Jesus had the power to heal, and heal he did. A leper, a blind person, Linda Blair of the time and others.
I'm sure this supernatural ability, while greatly appreciated by those
healed, was even a bigger threat to his enemies.
And then he showed them by reanimating after 3 days. I don't know if you've seen what a mortal looks like 3 days dead, but that was some mean trick.
Jesus was a man that had
some great ideas about how we should treat each other. He had a
following of like minded individuals that spread those ideas
around...in fact, you still see them today, only instead of flowing
robes and beards anddonkeys, you have bicycles and white shirts and bad ties...and recently, tardo looking helmets.
But then we arrive at the sticky wicket that Jesus' dad is GOD, who lives
in the heavens and built the world in 7 days, well 6, cause after all
that hard work he needed a day to rest. I know that if I had created
the known universe and all of it's contents in 6 days, I would need a
day off too. But, Hey, if he's GOD he shouldn't need a day off, right?
Unless he's union, then we got rules.
And that's where me and organized religion split paths. If his dad was Jesus sr. and a master carpenter...well that's one thing, but omnipotent? I don't think so.
That's like me saying Optimus Prime was my old man...my dad ruled, but he was mortal.
I've got no problem with the bible as a historical record, it's a good read
(even in cliff note format) but that "magical" aspect of it makes it
kinda Star Wars, Ya know?
Plus, you've got all these factions...catholics, baptists, methodists,lutherans, pentecosts (the worst ever) , mormons, et al saying that they are right and everyone else is wrong and on a hellbound train. There's something wrong with that.
I agree with Popeyemoon, with one distinction. I wouldn't say luck, I would say- Karma.
I don't see how Luke or Acts has anything to do with me being electrocuted.
I did buy a zippo with Jesus on it yesterday, it makes my camels feel holy.
And speaking of holy and inspirational, here's a new comic:
Obama '08

Sunday, February 11, 2007


I bought the Thin Lizzy coffee table book / box set today... I probably spent too much money on it, but fuck it.
It rules.
I fucking love Thin Lizzy.
And I've finally succumbed to dressing up dogs when I found this little outfit for Irene...

Bow wow wow indeed...:)

This is the front running nominee:

And here's the second...

Anyone who really believes that a woman or a black man can be elected president in todays world has to be drunk or own an extra chromosome.
Democrats need to change the logo from a donkey to something involving a pistol and a foot.
Not gonna happen...trust me on this one.
If Hillary and/or Obama end up as the dem nominee we can look forward to 4 more years of Bush in the form of Jeb.
Mark my words.

I knew about this glitch hours ago...even a fucking day ago, but I couldn't be assed to correct it.
My ribs woke me up, you know, those god damn injured ribs from monday's event. Well, they're still injured, and they hurt the most in the wee hours, waking me up and making me hard to deal with.
Pain does not equal creativity...bitch.
But a picture is still worth a 1000...

Gotta Love Satan...

For our babies...
You know, I posted this very same (almost) entry the other night with witty text about the yuppy central market and the third world, but for some reason the "new and improved blogger" fucked my post up by losing the pictures.
Way to go asstards.
So here they are again, sans edgy writing.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Hell must be freezing over..
Hell must be freezing over because I'm writing a blog post. Oh, I've started quite a few posts over the last month or two, but I've either been interrupted by something three sentences in and never got back to it or I've had to delete them because they said too much about work. I'm still working at the same place in the same job, working crazy hours, weekends and holidays while attempting to do the impossible - which I apparently did pull off at one point a month ago since I'm still there. There are days (most of them) when I kick myself for not letting myself get fired. Of course, that firing is always a possibility tomorrow or the next day, but that's true with any job and right now I'm more interested in figuring out how to enjoy this mess I've landed in. If I can pull that off then I suppose I'll have to write one of those "how to love your job" books and start doing seminars to teach others my "secret" - hahahaha. No, I haven't found the million dollar secret yet, but maybe it's out there waiting... just around the corner... and if I find it, I'll even share it with you right here on this blog for free. Wish me luck.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007


Since my dance with Mr. 120 volts the other day and my survival of said encounter without a fall to a tile floor, I have been calling people who mean something to me and just connecting...I've got more calls to make but I'm getting there.
I talked with my buddy John in Colorado tonight, and while it's an always a sarcasm filled exchange peppered with the latest bad jokes and general nastiness, god came up.
John's been involved with his church for awhile now, but it's a very tolerant involvement. And one that mirrors my beliefs closely.
I've got to think, how, at 47 years old, I was able to pull off the moves that prevented a fall? I'm in fairly good shape but I'm no spring chicken. I think somebody helped me out. Now...I'm not going to go all god on ya'll, that will never happen.
But luck just falls kinda short on this one. There was something else.
I just wonder what.

And in only 3 weeks! I'll be damned...those evangelicals are downright amazing.
I imagine him in the "fellowship" room strapped to a chair all Alex like in A Clockwork Orange forced to watch Destination dirtpipe 2 over and over again set to a soundtrack of Barry White's greatest love songs.
Please...I'm reminded of a fake ad in an old National lampoon magazine fashioned after the sand kicked in the face body building ads in comic books. Only this one was called "Anita Bryants in home 10 day Homo Nomo course".
If anything, he is a repressed homosexual back to pretending he is heterosexual, and if you think god works in mysterious ways, you are correct...God is making them all lie about it.
Here's a new comic on the subject:



Tuesday, February 06, 2007


This morning I went back up that ladder to the box that hung me up yesterday to confront my demon, only to be asked to add yet another circuit to it before I buttoned it up. I added the circuit as requested and began to make up joints. My ribs were (are) still really sore and the stretching involved was just too much, or maybe I was gun shy, probably a combination of the two. So I deferred to Steve and made up boxes on down the line that were closer to the ground and had only one circuit. And I had my volt tic with me all day.
I have always known that news travels fast with this company, so I wasn't surprised when people who weren't around yesterday were asking me how I was. It was nice that folks were concerned about me.
So, today, around the same time I danced with Mr. 120v yesterday, I was on top of a 8 foot ladder attaching a mc cable (metal clad cable with a hot, a ground and a neutral)to a fish tape when the fire alarm guys tested the system. There was a horn about 6 inches from my head and it sounded exactly like what I heard yesterday. It freaked me the fuck out!
I never did find my Kleins...so I'm off to Home Depot to buy a new pair.

Monday, February 05, 2007


The drill bit burn:

Ouch...it still hurts.

The almost killed by electricity hand injury:

The almost killed by electricity shin injury:

Now, I've been at this electrician thing for going on 3 years and I have been cut burned and electrocuted more since last friday than in the rest of my experience total. You think working 12 and 14 hour days six days a week has anything to do with it?
Me neither...:).

I got hung up on a live wire this afternoon...120v. Now I've been bit several times, but never hung up. That's when you're grounded ( I had one arm resting on a metal stud header, the other against a metal conduit ) and can't let go. I couldn't. let. go.
It really is like they show in cartoons when someone gets electrocuted, I could see my bones.
I thought I was going to die. Seriously.
One minute I was making up joints, the next I was frying.
Needless to say, I was on top of a ladder in the ceiling. The only way to get loose was to fall back away from the box. Which I did. I had the presence of mind to throw my arm over the sprinkler pipe on the way down and shove my boot in between a stud and the wall, so I was spared a 12 foot drop to the floor. The ceiling grid is wasted. I cut the shit out of the top of my right hand and my right shin and the inside of my upper left arm, not sure how all that happened.
I found my strippers and my screwdriver, but my kleins are m.i.a...which is a bummer, cause I've had them since day one.
Those breakers were OFF, before I climbed up in the ceiling to make joints. Somebody had to turn that fucker back on.
All I know is I'm alive and I will never be complacent about checking circuits again. EVER.
Hoo Whee!

Friday, February 02, 2007


14 hours today, in the home run closet going up and down that fucking ladder with a variety of tools and material for all of those 14 hours. Climb up and take measurements between junction boxes, climb down and bend pipe, climb up and dry fit, climb down and adjust. Climb up and put in place (or in most cases adjust again ) . Put in place , mark for straps...climb down and go find straps. Climb up and hammerdrill holes for straps,place hammerdrill on stud, hammerdrill shifts and begins to fall from ceiling, shift on ladder and catch hammerdrill like a wide receiver catches a football, white hot drill bit ends up in your armpit and sears your flesh. Climb down, go to mirror and examine new soon to be scar...not so bad. Climb back up, set straps, terminate pipe, push in wire.
Box 1 push: easy, no injury. Box 2 push: easy, no injury. Boxes 1 and 2 had 3/4 inch pipe with 9 wires each. Not a problem. Box 3 had two 1/2 inch pipes, one with 5 wires, one with 8 wires. The 5 wire folded up as I was pushing with all might, grazing my right knuckles against the edges of the box...5 times.
The 8 wire got my left pinky 1 time. This happened at the end of the night, and I was so focused on finishing ( and did not want to climb up and down that motherfucking ladder one more time )
That I ignored left pinky..."Ain't got time to bleed". I forgot about it, and when I got home I saw this bloody pinky.
I fucking love my job.