“Here I sit broken hearted; I came to shit, but only farted.” I thought I would share quotes I’ve discovered over the years from various escape pods scattered across the country.
What a wonderful world we live in where after a long 12 hour day of working on the wind farm we can go back home to our spacious town of say – 800 people, and have a few beers and a hot meal. Ok, so that might be the case a few days out of the week, but pretty much ever other meal originates from a gas station, or if you’re lucky enough a taco bell. You find yourself in situations waking up from dreams about 10 piece nuggets that your girlfriend won’t even bring you while you rummage through your work truck for a piece of candy to ease your mind back into sanity while listening to a Metallica song about an asylum.
The best part about working construction is shitting in those little plastic boxes they space out around the job site filled with John Wayne toilet paper (it’s rough and it’s tough and it don’t take no shit from no one). The truth is, after a diet consisting of mostly energy drinks, chips and gas station pizza you’re probably afraid to shit in someone’s normal toilet because you would need an industrial plunger or auger to remove the present you just deposited. That’s why construction companies rent porta potties, its so that the pre hardened carbon material can be safely transported to a hazardous waste processing facility hours away, in a safe zone, to create diamonds without the epa getting involved. I bet your wife doesn’t even know the truth about what is on her hand. The liquids are then removed so all that caffeine can be refined into jet fuel for the wars on terror, drugs, and Harambe.
I personally don’t smoke, but if I did I would certainly never miss out of a free cigarette butt out of a urinal. “Do not throw cigarette buts in this urinal; it makes them soggy and hard to light”, this is pretty much going to be the new tagline for my next startup company about saving the planet. We don’t need people wasting the last puff of a cancer stick by using them for target practice; besides they don’t even explode, where is the fun in that?
On a job a while ago, it was almost impossible to find one of the lovely odor machines that wasn’t cursed with the red circle of occupancy. Finally, after doing a few looser laps around the toilet farm and drinking 2 more water bottles I was granted entry. Written on the inside of the door in elegant lettering read: “Here I sit, tired and dirty. Hiding in here, until 4:30.” No fucking wonder.
“Here I sit broken hearted; I came to shit, but only farted. Later on I took a chance, tried to fart and shit my pants.” Hopefully not up tower.