My Blog:
6/27/2006
JOE STRIKES AGAIN!
I have been looking at getting an apartment for this summer. That way I don’t have to live in the dorms over the summer semester with all of the other social rejects. I figure that with my current salary working for NC I can probably swing a one bedroom loft apartment, for just slightly more than I would have to pay for the dorms anyway. Besides, bringing a girl back to your dorm room is questionable at best. I think I will have better luck with the fairer sex if I have my own place.
So after searching the downtown area I finally found a nice place over the Fishhouse Bar & Grill (Fishhouse is a college bar known for a nice selection of females on $2 fish bowl margarita Thursdays). It looks like the perfect place; it has its own private entrance (so I don’t have to enter through the bar), has a nice size living area and comes fully furnished.
So I go and meet with Teresa who owns the bar and fill out the application, along with my employment information. She looks the application over and informs me that as long as my employment checks out at $15 an hour I can have the place.
BIG MISTAKE.
I get a call from her later that afternoon and she say’s that she called a Mr. Joe (as listed on my application) and that he said that he had never heard of me. She then goes on to tell me that if I still want the apartment I have until 5:00 pm to supply her with a valid place of employment. In her exact words, “I’m tired of fucking around with you college kids.” I told her that there must be some mix-up and that I will have my boss call here immediately.
I pedal over to the compound as fast as my bike will carry me, only to discover that Joe and NC are not there. I go inside and in the kitchen I find the two big guys (who I think live in the shed), making PBJ sandwiches and talking in a language I do not understand (I think it is Russian). The see me and both stop talking in mid-sentence. After a minute the one I think is named Afinodor says, “Hello, Mr. Lafferty how may I be of service?” in a thick Slavic accent.
“Have you seen Mr. Joe or NC?” I asked.
“Nyet, but I believe they have gone for the auto parts store. Joe left note but he did not mark it as secret.”
Some lady called from the IRS & said she worked in a fishhouse. I knew it was a scam so I told her I didn’t know you. We have gone to get some parts at Max’s Auto part store to improve the Honda. Be back after a while.
Stay out of my room.
- Joe
“That little piece of…” I felt the eyes of the two bears staring at me.
“Mr. Lafferty, you seem for distressed, how may I assist you in capitalist fashion?”
At that moment an idea dawned on me.
“Afinodor, by the way you can call me Tim; will you do me a favor and call this number?” I handed him the lady at the fishhouse’s phone number. “I need some one to tell them that they are Mr. Joe, since he isn’t here and that I work for Nuclear Chicken at $15 per hour and that I work 20 – 30 hours per week.”
Afinodor considered it for a moment, “Da, wil I do this you perhaps make capitalist exchange, er- a favor for me?”
I didn’t even hesitate, “Yeah I will owe you one.”
“Then it is done.” Afinodor went into the other room and made the call.
“Teresa at fishes house please.”
-Pause
“Da, this is captain er… Mr. Joe & I call for Mr. Timothy Lafferty about his work.”
-Long pause
“He come to work for us, sometimes 20 – 30 hours per week, yes. We pay him $15.”
-Pause
“That is official, he works hard like in Gulag.”
-Another Pause
“Am fixing cars & such…”
-Longer Pause
“Yes he fixed web too…”
-Long Pause
“My accent is for… you ask many question are you work for government?”
-Pause
“Am from Southern Alabama state.”
-Pause
“Da, this is good day then,” and he hung up the phone.
“Timothy job is all but done. Would like you to help us now."
“Sure, what can I do to help you?” I asked.
“We need identification papers. You called drivers license.”
“Can’t you just go down to the DMV & get them?”
“Da, but we want special ones like the one you use to go into restaurants.”
[Just upon writing this blog entry I have realized that they know that I have a fake ID. Now how do they know that?]
“Ah,” I replied, “I see.”
He turned and started talking with his friend in his own language. Then the other man turned and left the room.
“He will get you what you need.”
After a few minutes Afinodor’s companion returned with a folder.
“When your work is complete please slide it under the door to the shed.
Both men then abruptly left the room.
Inside the envelope I was given are pictures of both of them in Tie-dyed shirts along with two heavy yellow coins.
I put this at the back of my mind, put the closed envelope into my backpack and then went immediately to work on NC’s web site (I am several weeks behind). I got a call a short while later from the fish house letting me know the apartment was mine.
SUCCESS.
____________________________________________________
2/14/2006
Happy Valentine’s Day!!!
I got the worst Valentine’s Day present in the world today. Yes not metaphorically speaking but in reality I believe I will never become aroused again. I showed up at the compound a little early today. My comparative philosophy class got out early and I thought I might go over to work and log in a few extra hours, after all, the web site needs some more work and I have tons of updates to add to the site. In addition, with the company trip to Las Vegas this weekend I won’t be around to do any work.
Here it is:
I saw Mr. Joe naked. Not simply an “in the buff” or in an artistic kind of way, I saw him naked in a way that can only be equated with mental flaying. If you don’t know what mental flaying is then find a copy of President Bush’s state of the Union address and watch it and you will understand what I mean.
I reached the compound on my bike at around 3:30 or so in the afternoon. I noticed that the Honda wasn’t there so I assumed that everyone was gone. I heard music playing inside. I walked in and shouted at the top of my lungs, “Is anyone here?”
No answer.
So I went to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of milk and went into the living room. In there the stereo was playing and I see Mr. Joe come dancing out of his room to Gloria Esteban’s “The Rhythm is gonna get you” wearing only the beer that was clinched in his hand and an eyepatch. I started to choke on my milk and then it came pouring out of my nose. I dropped the glass of milk from my hand and went running into the computer room. I slammed the door shut and hid from the monstrous sight that had availed my senses.
I don’t think that he saw me but I can’t be sure. The music was turned off a few minutes later and a fully dressed Joe came into the computer room.
“Hey, were you drinking milk?”
“Uh, yeah.” I replied.
“Well you left a cup of it on the floor in here. We don’t pay ya to make a mess, so get in there and clean it up. Oh yeah, this came for you.” He said as he tossed a copy of Play-girl magazine at my feet and then left the room.
With that he turned and left and I went out to clean up the mess, more confused than ever.
I have decided that I must avenge myself upon Mr. Joe for the indiscretion. As I obviously didn’t get a subscription to Play-girl and I feel like Mr. Joe needs to be brought into line. Perhaps this Vegas trip will give me my chance.
____________________________________________________
Happy Groundhog day!
I am so excited I have officially made it. I have reached nirvana, satori or perhaps I don’t have perspective and it is simply purgatory.
Yes I have officially logged one month working here for NC.
In this time I feel as if I have been officially ground down. I no longer am the plucky, funny college guy I was when I got this job. Now I am officially the working stiff who resembles the pointy end of a stick that you grind down on the pavement, as a 10 year old boy, in the attempt to make a javelin. I think that was a run-on.
I have officially been promoted to gopher or as I like to call it the only-mother-fucker-around-here-who-will-clean-up-all-of-Joe’s-empty-half-empty-empty-but-now-used-as-a-dip-spit-can-bottles-and-for-some-reason-the-part-time-garbage-man.
The job is still ok. I got the web site for NC mostly finished and I think he likes it.
Strange thing is he usually will just sit and watch me for hours while I am working on things for the site. He doesn’t do much except cluck softly occasionally.
The money here is good and things are always interesting. Some of the things going on here lately have made me wonder exactly what kind of operation is going on behind the scenes. I don’t have any idea where NC keeps getting the money to pay me.
First of all there is are an awful lot of visitors who come around who are more than they appear to be. There are these two huge guys who come over a lot and go places in the car with Joe or NC. I have tried to talk to them and only one of them ever speaks to me. He told me his name is Thomas but he speaks with a heavy accent and the other guy keeps calling him Commissar? I think they may be Russian, but if that is the case then why does he insist that he is from Kentucky. I think NC is letting them keep stuff stored in the shed out behind the house. It is always locked but I am working on a plan to take a look in there.
Joe’s cousin Jethro is ALWAYS over at the house. He always seems to be bringing Joe cases of Sudafed. I think Jethro is a truck driver but mostly he is just drunk. He stay’s in Joe’s room (which is off limits to me) but I have seen first hand that Joe’s windows are in-fact painted black.
Well I need to get back to work here. Joe says that we have to take a trip and fly out to Vegas next weekend. I’m pretty excited they say that I will get all expenses paid on the trip. I realize that I am not 21 but I have a friend at school working on that little problem right now.
____________________________________________________
1/21/06
That pig faced moron! I can't belive that NC lets him out of the house, even to review those stupid movies. Idiot! That is the last time I venture to that theater.
I guess I should fill you in a little. I went to catch a re-show of Sin City the other night at the movie theater. Mr Joe was there with some beast of a man. I tried dodging him a bit, but he spoted me and just started yelling out insults. I think he was drunk. What an asshole.
In honor of Mr. Joe's display of inbreeding, I've compliled a list to justify my wounded social status.
Mr. Joe's Favorite Things (in no particular order)
- Titties
- Ass
- Easy Women
- Fightin'
- Westerns
- Explosions
- Words Less Than 3 Letters
- Shootin'
- Breaking Things
- Pulp Novels
- Books with Pictures
- People Stupider Than Him (both of them)
- The President (see above)
- Women with No Standards
- Drunk Women
- Nudie Mags
- Taxidermy
____________________________________________________
1/19/06
So, I was late again today…that put me behind on updating this site.
The question is, why do I even put that here, like some record of my errors? Mr. Joe wasn’t up and NC never remarks on it…and after all, I stay late to make up the time. I think this is the kind of cathartic confession one makes to excuse or justify certain decisions/mistakes. Kinda like telling your buddy while sobering up at the diner after a drunken night that you slept with his mom…in his own bed….when she came to visit last week.
Not that I ever did that, just thinking about it…the example, I mean.
____________________________________________________
About Me
Name: Timothy Lafferty
Occupation: Student/ Web Designer
Location: South Dakota
I Love Feedback!
If I'm not fighting with Mr. Joe, I'm reading email. Contact Me!---------------------------
What I'm Reading
SAMs Learn HTML in 24 hours
Frank Herbert's Dune
Heinlein's The Moon is a Harsh Mistress
------------------------