"Obama's An Idiot" is where my political bitches now live. Go ye thereto and read.

Thursday, December 08, 2005


For some reason, this story came to mind as I was getting ready for work.

Back oh, more than 15 years ago, I worked as a foreman for a painting contractor.
We mainly painted houses and apartments, with a couple commercial buildings mixed in here and there, doing mostly repaints as opposed to new construction.

The typical painter is someone who likes to live from paycheck to paycheck, making just enough to support the beer, cigarette, beer, chemical and beer habit, with a little left over for groceries, rent, and beer. Usually, there was none left over for dental work though. Much cheaper to pull a tooth than to have it repaired, so usually they had well - about half of their teeth.
It was a good idea to cash your paycheck at the same place and time as the other painters. That way, you could collect the money they owed you from when they borrowed 'a little to get by until payday', the monday after the previous friday's paycheck.

Anyway, at one time, I supervised two crews of about 6 people each, who would usually be at two different jobs, but sometimes at the same one. This particular time, we were all on the same job, and a few of us decided we would go bowling the next friday night at the Showboat lanes.

We meet up after supper and bowl a couple games. We are having a good time bowling, shooting the bull, and in case you don't remember that I mentioned the typical painter like his beer, we had a few beers.
Since I didn't have to drive (designated drinker), I also had a few beers. And since one of my crew member's wife didn't have to drive either, she also had a few beers.

Well, the end of the evening finally rolled around, we were done bowling, a little tipsy and ready to call it a night. We each ordered a cocktail for the long walk back to the parking garage and headed out.

Now for some ungodly reason, whoever designed the Showboat casino had built the bowling alley slightly higher than the main casino floor. This required the ascention of a flight of about six stairs to get to the bowling alley. Fine. But at the end of the evening such as this, you need to concentrate a little more on walking, especially when going down a flight of stairs.

We had begun our descention of the stairs, when the wife of one of the guys, evidently not concentrating, fell. Bellyflop right to the floor, from up the last couple steps. She landed flat with a mighty "Ooomph!". Her beer however, still in her hand, landed safely upright without spilling a drop. It was amazing I tell you.

She got up with that "I meant to do that" expression on her face, sort of like when the dog runs into the sliding glass patio door, and we commenced our trek to the parking garage.

It was a hoot. An amzing hoot.

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