Tylerdurden
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Apr 20, 2001
- Messages
- 4,217
It all started from a desire to help my neighbor, not from the hedonistic desire to avoid sleep/ stick things up my nose for free, as you all might suspect, honest.
It was Thursday night and I was feeling low as usual after work when I got a call from a friend (strange that a friend is calling, probably needs help). It was Carl, my friend/grocer, he’s decided to leave the underworld and wants to start a new life in the country with his pregnant girlfriend and her two kids. He was moving in to her parents’ house, I didn’t think this would be such a good idea, but I’m not his therapist, so I kept my thoughts to myself. Anyways he needed help moving & I agreed to help him. Got to his place and started packing loads of junk in his workshop into the few boxes he had lying around. Ex-fams/G are experts at house-moves, but Carl didn’t really have all that much practical know-how (“ohh, so I can see now we’ll need lots of boxes to put things in”, duh). He also decides if me and the other enlisted privates are going to help him move we’ll need to be well supplied in motivation and energy enhancers, so enter now dear Crystal, loads of it.
All was running smoothly, all wired and getting things done, till Carl remembers (what a memory, gotta hand it to him) that he has about a Grand stashed away in his thatched roof. He just doesn’t recall where. Stop the moving, everyone, about six of us go to work on the roof looking for his buried treasure. We searched all that night and all next morning for it, then we started pulling apart the roof. It was a mission and none of us could pull ourselves away from the search, we searched everywhere then started again. I started to suspect foul play, or perhaps a sadistic game Carl had thought up called “fuck with tweakers”? Or was it just me being over-suspicious, as usual? It greatly delayed the move. I got feed up with the lack of boxes and on Saturday took Gert’s bakkie to get some boxes at the nearest mall. Attracting attention was not my intention, but I couldn’t have been less of a show when I parked the bakkie right in front of one of the mall’s entrances, blocking the entrance to shoppers, then stormed in and demanded empty boxes from the friendly manager. The whole time plagued by paranoid thoughts that someone might think I was taking full boxes and cops might come any moment, silly me!
The whole move took about 8 trips with the pick-up. On Sunday evening we all felt satisfied at having completed the task, pity that his girlfriend, due to chemical and hormonal imbalances, freaked out on Monday and kicked him out, so his whole workshop had to go back, all that work for nothing..
On Monday morning, I was on my way to work on my Honda, tweaked of my face and awake since Thursday, when at an intersection this colorblind *insert derogative racist noun here* decides he’ll go with red and knocks me off my bike. I still hadn’t realized the damage to my knee, so I’m up and at this guy, I think I insulted every member of his family from his unknown father to his illegitimate offspring. The cops were *insert derogative racist noun here* as well, and although it was his fault, since I had no witnesses to prove it, he got off the hook. I was lucky that the dumb fucks didn’t realize I had a foreign car license so at least I avoided a fine. The doctors were very helpful at the modern hospital I was taken to (thank god for medical aid). Since I’ve had plenty of leg injuries before from kick-boxing, I told the doctor not to even think of giving me voltaren or Tramadol for pain, I know they don’t work. I start suggesting dosages and names of opiate pain-killers that will do the job. The nice, understanding doc gives me a shot of voltaren then proceeds to vigorously clean my swollen knee & staple shut some large cuts. Bastard!! Oh, she also wrote ‘attention opiates’ on my file. For once I wasn’t even scripting, I truly was in pain! I’ve been able to get Oxycodone easily scripting docs in other countries. I openly told them how I despised private hospitals and that everyone should be entitled to good health, and I lectured the docs and nurses on the use of opiates for pain as well as a lot of other things. I must’ve sounded sounded like a lunatic in shock, but more likely it was sleep depravation. My boss came over from work and brought me some men’s and people magazines with titles like: I killed my baby and felt nothing, A man who makes his living by reading buttocks, how to become a rockstar, How I became addicted to kids’ drug(My Ritalin nightmare), etc. Now I am more convinced than ever of the extreme decadence of our great enlightened western society. The next day out of spite, I had my last line on my hospital bed(no one saw me, but it was a personal kind of spite), signed out of the hospital and was prescribed Tylenol for the pain, I took that as an insult. Maybe if I wouldn’t have told the docs how to do their job I might have been more lucky in the pain-killer department, but, no dumb patients must blindly put themselves into their doctors hands because, fuck, we’ve had study 7 years to get that title so we must be gods. To hell with the lot or them!
So now I’ve been in bed over a week, tore something in my knee, fortunately didn’t break any bones. I’ll have to do some serious budgeting to get my bike repaired. Funny the first thought that came to my mind after the crash was that at least I won’t have to go to work. I’ve been at this office job only a year, but I already can’t stand sitting at a desk 8+ hours a day. I really don’t know why I wrote this, it’s not intended to be a sob story, just another glimpse into my life, with it’s ups and downs, sporadic bliss and despair. At least it doesn’t start with: I woke up to Uncle John’s guitar reveille at 7am, and jumped off my triple bunkbed…..
It was Thursday night and I was feeling low as usual after work when I got a call from a friend (strange that a friend is calling, probably needs help). It was Carl, my friend/grocer, he’s decided to leave the underworld and wants to start a new life in the country with his pregnant girlfriend and her two kids. He was moving in to her parents’ house, I didn’t think this would be such a good idea, but I’m not his therapist, so I kept my thoughts to myself. Anyways he needed help moving & I agreed to help him. Got to his place and started packing loads of junk in his workshop into the few boxes he had lying around. Ex-fams/G are experts at house-moves, but Carl didn’t really have all that much practical know-how (“ohh, so I can see now we’ll need lots of boxes to put things in”, duh). He also decides if me and the other enlisted privates are going to help him move we’ll need to be well supplied in motivation and energy enhancers, so enter now dear Crystal, loads of it.
All was running smoothly, all wired and getting things done, till Carl remembers (what a memory, gotta hand it to him) that he has about a Grand stashed away in his thatched roof. He just doesn’t recall where. Stop the moving, everyone, about six of us go to work on the roof looking for his buried treasure. We searched all that night and all next morning for it, then we started pulling apart the roof. It was a mission and none of us could pull ourselves away from the search, we searched everywhere then started again. I started to suspect foul play, or perhaps a sadistic game Carl had thought up called “fuck with tweakers”? Or was it just me being over-suspicious, as usual? It greatly delayed the move. I got feed up with the lack of boxes and on Saturday took Gert’s bakkie to get some boxes at the nearest mall. Attracting attention was not my intention, but I couldn’t have been less of a show when I parked the bakkie right in front of one of the mall’s entrances, blocking the entrance to shoppers, then stormed in and demanded empty boxes from the friendly manager. The whole time plagued by paranoid thoughts that someone might think I was taking full boxes and cops might come any moment, silly me!
The whole move took about 8 trips with the pick-up. On Sunday evening we all felt satisfied at having completed the task, pity that his girlfriend, due to chemical and hormonal imbalances, freaked out on Monday and kicked him out, so his whole workshop had to go back, all that work for nothing..
On Monday morning, I was on my way to work on my Honda, tweaked of my face and awake since Thursday, when at an intersection this colorblind *insert derogative racist noun here* decides he’ll go with red and knocks me off my bike. I still hadn’t realized the damage to my knee, so I’m up and at this guy, I think I insulted every member of his family from his unknown father to his illegitimate offspring. The cops were *insert derogative racist noun here* as well, and although it was his fault, since I had no witnesses to prove it, he got off the hook. I was lucky that the dumb fucks didn’t realize I had a foreign car license so at least I avoided a fine. The doctors were very helpful at the modern hospital I was taken to (thank god for medical aid). Since I’ve had plenty of leg injuries before from kick-boxing, I told the doctor not to even think of giving me voltaren or Tramadol for pain, I know they don’t work. I start suggesting dosages and names of opiate pain-killers that will do the job. The nice, understanding doc gives me a shot of voltaren then proceeds to vigorously clean my swollen knee & staple shut some large cuts. Bastard!! Oh, she also wrote ‘attention opiates’ on my file. For once I wasn’t even scripting, I truly was in pain! I’ve been able to get Oxycodone easily scripting docs in other countries. I openly told them how I despised private hospitals and that everyone should be entitled to good health, and I lectured the docs and nurses on the use of opiates for pain as well as a lot of other things. I must’ve sounded sounded like a lunatic in shock, but more likely it was sleep depravation. My boss came over from work and brought me some men’s and people magazines with titles like: I killed my baby and felt nothing, A man who makes his living by reading buttocks, how to become a rockstar, How I became addicted to kids’ drug(My Ritalin nightmare), etc. Now I am more convinced than ever of the extreme decadence of our great enlightened western society. The next day out of spite, I had my last line on my hospital bed(no one saw me, but it was a personal kind of spite), signed out of the hospital and was prescribed Tylenol for the pain, I took that as an insult. Maybe if I wouldn’t have told the docs how to do their job I might have been more lucky in the pain-killer department, but, no dumb patients must blindly put themselves into their doctors hands because, fuck, we’ve had study 7 years to get that title so we must be gods. To hell with the lot or them!
So now I’ve been in bed over a week, tore something in my knee, fortunately didn’t break any bones. I’ll have to do some serious budgeting to get my bike repaired. Funny the first thought that came to my mind after the crash was that at least I won’t have to go to work. I’ve been at this office job only a year, but I already can’t stand sitting at a desk 8+ hours a day. I really don’t know why I wrote this, it’s not intended to be a sob story, just another glimpse into my life, with it’s ups and downs, sporadic bliss and despair. At least it doesn’t start with: I woke up to Uncle John’s guitar reveille at 7am, and jumped off my triple bunkbed…..
