Tag Archives: fire

How I Reached for the Stars

Today I want to discuss jobs. I have switched careers and now I work as a nurse.

“I think you’ve got a fever, I’ll need to check that…rectally”

It may surprise you, the faithful Facehookin’ reader, to know that I worked in both the state prison and county jail as none other than a correctional officer before going to nursing school.

“It’s time for your visit, and by that I mean conjugal, and by that I mean sex…I’m not so good at this.”

So you may ask how one would make such a leap from one career field to the other? Well, simply because I can’t be an LOL cat.

Because I’m a fucking human.

I’m grateful everyday I pay my student loan because I love being a nurse. I had my son and decided it was time for a career I wanted to be in for the duration of my working years.

Now you may ask if it was difficult to deal with inmates? No, actually they weren’t usually all that bad. I mean, you just expected some of them to be assholes and some were, no big deal.

Most accurate representation of a correctional facility

However even sporatically dealing with drunks, and crazed idiots on bath salts might have made the place less desirable to work than say, waking in a bathtub full of ice and a note saying one of your kidneys was stolen. So what was something I dreaded more than all of it?

Working  with “Old heads” and Delusions of Grandeur

Okay, so I think at a lot of jobs people that stay at the same place of employment like to brag that they spent overwhelming majority of their adult life there.

“Never free, Never me, So I dub thee unforgiven…”

Which is fine, but these people always wanted to say one name in particular to raise some consequentially impressed eyebrows. Fate Thomas. Fate….Goddamn…..Thomas. Get it? Got it? Good. You better or a fiery vengeance will be wrought upon you and your posterity.  This dude, besides admittedly having a pretty cool name, was the sheriff…um, like a long time ago. Thus being present for the Fate Thomas era made all hearing aware that said employee has been with the agency for decades. There have been other sheriffs, but none with names that command attention, respect, fire. So in service training was two grueling days of classes like;  sexual harassment, workplace safety, mental health, first aide, CPR and the list goes on.

It never failed that at some point during classes some decrepit old bastard would interject, “Back in the Fate Thomas days…” Then some elaborate story would ensue about how county jail thirty years ago was a post apocalyptic battlefield and the inmates were half breed human gorillas capable of murder, murder everywhere. The officers it seems were all….um…

This bad ass….

This bad ass….

Yes. I’m serious.

According to these guys, there were fights and riots. Riots and then fights, um death, fights, riots, riots and fights. And fire. And Fate “Son of a Bitch” Thomas. Every day. These war stories took up time that the instructor needed to tell us not to sexually harass each other anymore and how to perform CPR. Not the Fate Thomas way, which was immediate setting fire to said inmate for dying during a riot.

The man, the legend, Fate…

Actually working with these guys was pretty bad, for one, the had to remind you every day that they were there longer than you have been alive. They had to tell you resolutions to problems that might have been acceptable in the 70’s, you know, like let’s disco all night. Well, maybe not that but, they never really had a current or relevant solution. Only stories, epic stories, comparable to those told by Homer.

Perhaps other reasons I’d rather not use this venue to expound on why that particular place wasn’t my cup of tea. I will say some pretty incredible supervisory titles materialized over the years…

Vice President Chief…Seventh Level Dragon Master…

I always wished Fate would become wrathful with the lack of violence withing the facilities and bring about his powerful spiritual vengeance and then salt the earth…only to fly into the sun and burst, spreading his incredible ashes among us. Or maybe just give me a make-believe position of power.


Try to Set the Night on FIRE! (With Leather Pants)

image: cartoongalleries.blogspot.com

Fire is probably the coolest element. It’s the element that skateboards, skips Algebra class and wears a wallet chain. I mean you have earth, wind, water, air…or at least that’s what Captain Planet led me to believe.  Of all those, fire is no doubt the bad ass.

Can you imagine what the first guy who discovered fire lived like? Steve Jobs and Bill Gates come to mind . Fire was truly life altering.  I hope he walked around, threatening to summon fire upon people.  Surely, he capitalized on his creation. I mean, I  would totally carry two sticks around and when I didn’t get my way I would just start rubbing them together like, “I will start a fire right here on the elder’s head if someone doesn’t do the Flinstone Flop right now! Entertain me!” Furthermore I would extort everybody, leaving me with the most valuables: sweet ass pimped out cave, high end pottery, and really cool rocks and bones.

As we all know fire is dangerous.  This reminds me of two separate tales where I am fairly surprised my dad has a house to live in. These are examples where fire was attempted to be harnessed and failure followed…

image: imdb.com

he took a nap. I was about 12 and obviously old enough for my dad to trust me not to burn the house down while he slept. Was he ever wrong! My brother and I were attempting to burn corners of paper to make it look old, I think we were making some kind of fancy pants treasure map. None the less we thought fire would enhance it’s authenticity. Well corner 1,2,and 3 not a problem. Corner 4 was ablaze, fell onto the other paper we were using and the coffee table was a hobo gathering place. We freaked, I am pretty sure we ran in panicked circles. I grabbed a nearby glass of juice and extinguished the flame. Dad never woke, he never knew what happened. We abandoned our dangerous craft project and watched Rocko’s Modern Life instead.

Fire in Human Form

The other story is just my brother, but he tempted to once again challenge fire, and he lost. I was in the bathroom of my dad’s house fixing my hair. I suppose I was 13 this time. I am sure I was putting tacky barrettes in my hair that mimicked whatever I saw in Seventeen magazine. I hear my brother screaming and then he ran into the house, filled a glass of water and ran back out. The whole time he was making this crazy baby bird noise. Somewhere between squealing and sobbing. On the third trip to the faucet my dad said “Now what in the hell’r you doin’?” as he stood from his Lazyboy. No doubt he thought, ‘this better be good, I’m watching NASCAR’. I, being curious,, followed my dad outside to find a backyard on fire. My brother was throwing cups of water on one of the patches of fire. “Shit hell!” my father exclaimed as he grabbed the garden hose. He put out the fire, my brother crying hysterically. Okay, let me say he was only 7 yrs old, so I think the crying is understandable. Me, I laughed, until the laughter hurt my body and I had to stop. It was awesome.

Well, there you have it, fire is a dangerous and helpful element. Use it wisely. By the way doesn’t my human form of fire pictured above look like a fat Russel Brand? I think so too.

My New Get Rich Quick Schemes

I don’t really like to work.  I do like to get paid.  Now NASA doesn’t need to do any calculations examining extensive statistical data to determine I need to get rich; quick and easy.  I have been able to come up with some ideas of how to obtain succe$$.

1. Hoarders.  I can combine my new obsession with the ability to make profit.  I love piles of  soiled incontinence briefs in the living room and rat turds on my Hallmark figurines as much as the next person.  Guess who doesn’t? Hoarder’s neighbors.  They hate them.  I mean besides obvious property value losses it’s rather unpleasant to live next to.  Especially if you have the hoarder neighbor that has too many Cabbage Patch kids and Encyclopedia collections in the bathroom to handle business inside.  I imagine it’s rather unsavory to see your neighbor defecate in the hedges on a daily basis.  While they captivate me I can understand hoarders are a nuisance. My proposal? Approach said hoarder as an intervention psychologist who specializes in hoarding.  Make a contractual agreement for a disclosed sum to help them with their hoarding ( I got to get the family involved on this one).  At the same time there is at least one neighbor willing to pay you for arson.  Now, I will sneak into the hoarders house disguised in a trash suit that looks like dead cats and newspaper.  Wait for them to leave and then torch the house.  The neighbors pay me, the hoarder  will have already paid ( I only accept money prior to services) and everybody wins and I didn’t have to help the hoarder.  A new house is built, the hoarder has about ten years to gross it up again, and I have cheddar. It’s bulletproof.

2. Child Support.  Now what are women good at? Getting pregnant.  I certainly got the hips to pass something 7 or 8 pounds right through them! Well, why not combine my gestational abilities with nothing other than a potent rich man?  Preferably a rapper.  Why? Rap is here and it’s not going anywhere.  Rappers come and go but in their prime they make a ridiculous amount of money.  So, I can dress super inappropriately, and attend every rap concert in my Cashville, TN!  If I am granted access to the backstage at 5 out of 10 concerts and manage to bang a rapper…I will eventually be fertilized and money makin’ money, money makin’.  As long as I keep a diligent log of the rappers I bang, I’ll know the dates and which emcee to contact.  My plan is in no way flawless nor could it result is such adverse side effects like an STD….it’s called penicillin and it grows on oranges. DUH. Once I sue the rapper who has poured more Cristal on  bitches’ titties he don’t even remember me to deny such allegations. The court will settle everything.  Paternity tests will confirm I have birthed his offspring.  Then? I get paid! Child support! I calculate that the percentage would be pretty high…and my check would be pretty fat.  If I get lucky it will be the child of an immortalized rapper, and maybe he could follow his father’s footsteps and sample his old music. BANK!!!

You laugh now, but you won’t laugh when I own 10 snuggies and you own 1 and it’s got a hole in it. SUCKA.