A gripping tale about the ups and downs of working in the trades:
This week's dumps took casualties, don't get what I mean let me tell you please: Monday morning, stomach churning, not a single shitter in sight - hop in my van, rummage for a bag goddamn, holding my butt closed with all my might. Finally see, there's one hidden for me, but its filled with fittings and pipe.
Dump that shit, to replace with my shit, ahhhhhh that feels good- that feels right.
Wednesday's ordeal was a much bigger deal even though I found a bathroom.
Porta-potty more like, I made it over in time, but had to squat and fling my crap inside. The fucking shit was to the brim, it wreaked of asshole and sin, and I nearly threw up but not quite. And when it came time to wipe, would you believe to my surprise... not a single tissue, to rescue my plight. "Goddamnit!" I yelled, at the top of my lungs, I didn't know what to do. As I thought to myself - fuck the trades - I happened to look at my shoe. With a frown on my face and my head in disgrace, I gingerly took off my sock, it was sweaty and gross, id rather wipe with dry toast, but at least I had a clean butt. So thank god its Friday: tgif, only one more day to survive. I hope yours is awesome, as I hope mine is too, and that we both make it through alive
This delightful tale was shared with me, Po Oper from @Manonhisthrone.
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