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I'm a slightly mad pagan trucker with an unhealthy obsession with yarn.
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Monday, November 7, 2011

Heading up & moving out.

I have decided it's time to move along.  My new home will be My Flavor of Crazy.  It's a mix of this blog and Just say no to crotchfruit. It is a work in progress so please forgive me if I manage to totally screw some shit up.
Saturday, November 5, 2011

So you think you want to be a truck driver.

Several weeks ago I was talking to the guy that washes our truck and he expressed some interest in becoming a truck driver and asked me what advice I might have to give.  Shut up fuckers quit laughing, it really happened.  I think my advice may not have been exactly what he was looking for but that wouldn't be the first time someone was disappointed by what came out of my mouth.

So I figured maybe write a little post or two about my advice for aspiring truck drivers.  Are you ready?  If you're looking for the candy coated version of trucking I suggest you go elsewhere because you sure as fuck won't find it here.

Still with me? Good.

My first bit of advice is, DON'T FUCKING DO IT!  Seriously.  Really.  I mean it.  If the only reason you want to become a truck driver is because you think it is neat or all you can see are dollar signs don't do it.  Just stay at home and find another line of work.

Since you persist in not listening to me, I shall continue. 

I know that sounds mean & bitchy but seriously, there are enough assholes out here already that thought that driving a truck would just be so neat & what a great way to see the country & get paid for it.  It is.  What some people don't realize is that all the great touristy type things that they think they will get to spend their free time doing, doesn't happen.  Not because the free time isn't there, it's because there are usually 6000 other things that need to be done, like laundry, paperwork, grocery shopping or truck mantinence.  When you do get laid over and have all the free time in the world, it is usually in the middle of BFE with nothing to do.

Another thing that a lot of people don't realize is the number of hours that really go into the job.  Not just the hours of driving but the waiting.  You wait to get the truck worked on.  I'm waiting now on getting a whel seal replaced.  YAY! You wait to get unloaded.  You wait to get loaded.  You wait sitting in traffic.  You wait for hours on the side of the road broke down waiting on a repair truck to show up, only to arrive with the wrong part.  You wait for your dispatcher to get his head out of his ass.  You may be waiting a VERY long time on this last one.  Trust me. Hurry up and wait is the name of the game in trucking.  

You have the verbal abuse by customers.  You show up too early they get pissed.  You show up too late they get even more pissed.  No matter that you arrive at the time you were told to be there or you broke down along the way.  You just learn not to take it personally & nicely tell them to shove the fucking attitude up their ass sideways with no lube.  :D

I would like to say as a female driver that in this day and age that the sexism in this industry doesn't exist.  Unfortunately I can not.  You will be put down for your choice of career because a lot of assholes think women should stay at home and have babies & fix them dinner when they come home.

Also, depending on the company you work for, they may treat you like shit.  To a lot of companies a driver is just a piece of meat filling the seat & serving the hive.

Are you still there?

Even with all the bad shit that goes on in the day to day aspect of trucking, it does have its upside.  There are days you get to do the touristy type shit, you get to see some wonderful fucking scenery, you get to meet some truly awesome people.  Just the other day I met a fellow female driver who had been driving for almost 40 years.  Deb is my new hero.

So, with all the heinous fuckery I have put forth, is this still the career for you?  If so, stay tuned for the next instalment of So You Want to be A Truck Driver.
Sunday, September 25, 2011

What makes me happy.

As you know a couple of weeks ago I got to go on a surprise trip to Fort Worth & see Hank III.  I am absolutely in love with his music.  His set runs the gamut from classic country to hellbilly to full on heavy metal.  How can you not love it?  He has the only country album with a parental advisory sticker.  Just thought I'd share a few of my favorites.

One off his new album.

This one makes my truck go fast.  LOL

Trust me, this one picks up about 00:35.  ;)

Some live Assjack.

This one has the best line in a country song.  EVER.

I think this one is my fave off the new album.  Hank III & Tom Waits.

This one gives me the shivers.  Damn that voice.

Sometime it's not all about you.

WARNING: The following post is a letter to a friend in which I reveal a lot about myself.  I'm putting it here because if I call there will be more tears than there already has been and I'm not sure if an email will get read.  Fuck, I'm crying now and haven't even gotten to the hard part yet.  So if you would feel better about skipping this post, please do. If you feel the need to comment, please don't do it to put down the other person involved because that wasn't my intention by doing this.  I promise to return to my regular fuckery soon.

To Whom it may concern,

I'm sorry you're sick.  I'm sorry you're depressed.  I'm sorry you feel you're "broken".  I'm sorry that I yelled.

I first want you to listen to this song & know that this is how I feel about 50% of the time.

There are many days that the thought of getting out of bed & facing the world is just entirely way too much, but I do it. There are many days that I have to pull the truck over because I am crying so hard.  I stop, have my cry and go on.  Why don't I tell you these things when we talk?  Not because I'm ashamed but because I don't want people feeling sorry for me.  Some days I have called thinking maybe today I can tell her, but then there seems to be something going on in your life & you need a shoulder to cry on.  Did you ever think that maybe I need a shoulder occasionally?

All the times I have listened to you talk about your ex and the things that he did, sometimes you act is if you're the only person to have ever dealt with an abusive ex.  You know that I left WT because I wanted to get clean, but that's only part of the story.  I have never told my mother or best friend of almost 25 years the whole story.  The abuse didn't start until the last year of our relationship. The final straw came when he beat me so severely that I had a miscarriage.  I never even knew I was pregnant.  Of this I am ashamed. Not because he beat me but because I stayed.  I have since vowed that it will NEVER happen again.

Yesterday when were talking & you told me exactly how many pills you had available, how was I supposed to feel? What was I supposed to say?  You tell me things like this and I'm not sure what you want me to say or do.  Do you want me to tell you about the time last June I sat in the middle of my bed, with my .44 in my mouth, with the hammer cocked & finger on the trigger?  Do you want me to tell you that the only thing that stopped me from pulling the trigger was my niece walking through the front door & hollering, "Where are you Aunt Shanny"?  Why haven't I told you about this?  Is it because I am ashamed?  No.  I haven't talked about it because it's in the past.  I put it behind me & I've moved on with my life.

A couple weeks ago when I went out with my skirt wearing friend, instead of being happy that I went out and had a great weekend, you made me feel shitty because I wasn't there to answer the phone to try & make you feel better.  I know you jumped to the conclusion that we had sex but FYI, we've never slept together. Well we did share the same bed but that's as far as it ever has & ever will go. Why?  Because he's gay.  Although you may not have realized it you even made me feel bad for seeing my FWB in NC.  Sometimes I don't tell you things because in some way you'll make me feel bad for trying to have a life.

Why don't I ever talk about these things?  What good would it accomplish?  I talk to my therapist two sometimes 3 times a month.  Rehashing it with everyone is not something that I feel I need to do.  It took me years to realize I can't deal with my bipolar issues without help.  As much as I hate it, I am taking medication for it.  Granted it's an extremely low dose but it works for me & doesn't make me feel like a zombie.  My highs aren't too high & my lows aren't too low. I refuse to left my fucked up brain chemistry define who I am.  Some days it feels like you let your illness & depression define who you are & run your life.

Some days, like yesterday, being physically drained & not really feeling all that great emotionally, I just couldn't deal with the whole woe is me thing.  I'm sorry I yelled.  I shouldn't have.  Sometimes I feel as though you expect me to have some magic words to make everything better.  I don't.  If I did, I could fix us both.  I don't know how much damage I've done to our friendship by posting this but no matter what I'm not saying these things to be mean.  I just had some things to say.  To use the old packing a suitcase analogy, I'd packed and packed till no more would fit in & it all came flying out in just a few words.  Once again, I'm sorry.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

So maybe the skirt wearer isn't an asspickle after all.

Just so you know, asspickle is my new favorite word. I'm not sure where the word originated but I'm giving @OrigCheese credit since she brought to my attention.

Ok, on to my regularly scheduled tale.

A couple weeks ago my favorite Scotsman let me know that he would be arriving last Friday and to pick him up at the airport. Luckily he actually gave me more than 30 minutes notice this time.

On Thursday I get an email telling me that I will have to surrender my phone at the airport, not to be returned until Monday. Then Friday morning I get another email telling me to pack a bag with an outfit appropriate for a nice dinner & an outfit suitable for going to a bar.

I'm not real big on surprises and was thinking I may have to kick some Scottish ass. But being the nice person I am (stop laughing fuckers) , I decided to play along.

Upon arrival at the airport I was told we were going to his brother's house. I'm thinking, "You wanted me to pack a bag so we could out with your brother and his shrew wife? You are such a dead man. " But it turned out we were only there to borrow his brother's plane. Not a fan of flying in general, I was sure we were going to die in this plane. I remember what it looked like when he bought and am still not thoroughly convinced on his brother's mechanical ability. But alas I survived to tell the tale.

First stop was St. Louis for dinner and refueling. We went to the Sidney Street Cafe. Two words, fucking awesome. That and I'm glad he was paying. ;)

Second stop was Fort Worth, where he totally made up for an asspickleishness by taking me to see Hank 3. Oh. Em. Gee. Unfortunately I have no pictures because the bastard wouldn't give me my phone back & I had no other camera. For this he must suffer.

All in all it was an awesome weekend. Even though he did tell me that used up my allotment of birthday and Christmas presents for the next 20 years. Yeah right.

In case you're wondering, yes I made him wear his skirt. If I had to wear one, so did he. ;)
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Friday, September 2, 2011

Me and my smart mouth.

I think this may become a regular kinda thing.  As many of you know, I'm a sarcastic, bitchy smart ass.  My witticisms aren't limited to just my friends, I've been known to just let them fly.  Lots of times at inappropriate times.  I mean a lot.  Maybe even alot.

This particular tale takes place about 2001 when I was just a mere greenhorn of a truck driver.  I got pulled over for speeding & passing in the third lane, which in NC is a big no, no. After the inspection the officer & I were having a little chat.

Trooper:  Do you have any explanation for why you were doing 75 in a 65 & in the 3rd lane?

Me: *scuffs ground* Well, actually I do.

Trooper: Oh really.  I gotta hear this.

Me:  Last week I was abducted by aliens & they implanted this thing in my brain & sometimes it malfunctions.

Trooper: *fighting the giggles*  What causes it to malfunction?

Me:  Lack of caffeine.  Because you know even alien technology isn't perfect.

Trooper: *no longer trying to hold laughter in*  You know, I've been a trooper for 10 years and I can honestly say that's the first time anyone has used alien abduction as an excuse for speeding.  Today is your lucky day, you get points for creativity.

In the end all I got was a ticket for not wearing my seat belt.  Mom always said my smart mouth would get me  nowhere.  She was wrong.

So stay tuned for further tales of Me & My Smart Mouth. :)

Random Shit.

Just a few random pictures from the road.

 The Atchafalya Basin.  Basin Bridge I-10 in Louisiana.

 This place was scary.  I heard Dueling Banjos.  Twice.  The local beer, bait, hardware, grocery & feed store in Asscrack Nowhere, WV.

 A Chester Fried escapee.

 I'd do hood shots like Bethany over at One Girl Trucking but alas all I have is a crappy 387 Peterbilt instead of a 379.  So all you fuckers get to see is my steering wheel.

 This is where @Morticia626 and all the other goths live.

 This is known as a big case of fuck my life.

 Another big heaping, helping of fuck me.

 Seriously it was over 75 outside.  Why in the fuck is she wearing a long winter coat?

 Taking pictures in the mirror is a lot harder than it appears.

 Now is the time to crank some Motorhead & scream at people.  ;)

 Holy bat fuck that's a lot of snow.  For reals that snow bank is taller than the truck.  Winter 2010 in Wisconsin.

 This will be fun with an empty trailer.

 The biggest Sharpie of them all, & it is all mine.  Stop staring & go get your own you weirdo.

 This here is the endangered species known as tumbleweed.

 Hey Terry, this is just a bunny NOT a jackalope.  

 High atop the hill on SR 2 in Georgia about 20 miles or so west of Ellijay.  This is one of my favorite roads to drive.  It is a curvy 2 lane mountain road with no shoulder or guard rail.  Good times.  Yes it is an illness.

 Somewhere out west.  Oh, I remember now.  This was going up US 395 in California.

Pilot Knob in North Carolina.  Heh heh I said knob heh heh heh