A visit from Chin and Kramer

That was just the pick-me-up that I needed, now that we’re on the downward slide to getting our fatter asses home for the holidays. Mrs. Birdman got our tickets booked yesterday, and they were just over half price (score), but we have to drive to Calgary instead of Grande Prairie (Boo). Seeing as our flight from GP was going to have an eight hour layover in Calgary, and a stop in Edmonton anyhow, we thought we’d save the $500 each, and drive the green goblin instead. It also turns out that we won’t be coming back to this job after the break, so we were able to stay at home for a couple of extra days. Good news all around, I’d say.

Now, back to Chin, and Don’s replacement, Kramer. I call him that, because he reminds me of him, and I never did ask what he wanted his code name to be. I’ll do that after the morphine I gave him wears off. (Don’t ask.) Because it’s pouring rain outside, the night shift has been shut down, so those two get paid for twelve hours and get to go play ping pong and sexually harass the kitchen help until breakfast. I guess there’s a cutie working at night in the kitchen, and the boys think she’s something else, but I haven’t seen her yet. She lives across the hall from me, and is on nights, so she will hopefully remain faceless to me. I think that the only reason Chin cares, is because he’s hoping to get the good sandwiches set aside for him; Kramer on the other hand, probably has romantic notions about the lass. Good luck, buddy.

I guess I was lucky tonight, because I caught my sweetheart before she went to bed, and then had a hilarious visit by the twins. I totally mean that in the Schwarzenegger/DeVito kinda way.

The closest Kramer's been to a gang, is when he got roofied by some frat boys at a kegger.

We lucked out when they sent the K-man up as D-bag’s replacement. He’s a nice guy, and he’s really fucking funny. I wasn’t sure who was going to piss their pants first, when they were in my room earlier(It was me 😦 .). He’s kind of like Chin and I in that he will say absolutely anything for a laugh, and he’s not worried about making himself look foolish, if it means someone will get a chuckle. We like this, because it takes the pressure off of us to keep ourselves entertained, and it gives us something else to make our stay here less lonely. He’s also extremely horny. There’s a certain lady here who’s first name is Pipeline, and we were advised against getting “glommed” by her. We were talking about it later, and Kramer piped in with an “I will”.  Ha ha, we had a good laugh, mainly because he’s half her age, but partly because she’d probably make him wish he’d brought a friend along to help. It wasn’t until we saw that he was serious, that we began to stare uncomfortably at each other, and I noticed Chin kind of inching away from him towards the door.

While we were having some fun times talking about Chin getting tied up and violated during night shift, and how horny Kramer was, I was reminded of a story from my first year in camp. I of course will be embellishing the details, because we all know what my memory is like.

There was an insulater crew in the camp, and we had a cute campy who was in her early twenties, happened to be Native, and had just bought herself a CD/cassette boombox. One of the insulaters borrowed her radio, so he could make some tapes, and then she caught wind that their crew was packing up and leaving. She immediately went to his room to get her stereo back, but when she knocked on the door, there was no answer. Being a campy, she had the room key, and used it, only to find this dude, taking care of himself. I mean really taking good care of himself; he had the Hustler propped up on a pillow (Mrs. B says it’s probably so his neck wouldn’t get strained), a bottle of moisturizer and some Kleenex on the bed. She said it was quite furious, and she thought there were veins popping out on his forehead when she startled the hell out of him. She, of course, was embarrassed and quickly apologized and left the room. She said that, had it been left at that, she would have never mentioned it again, but when he started using racial slurs and getting belligerent, she grabbed her radio, went to the kitchen and told some of the guys in his crew what had happened.

Fast forward to supper, and when he walked into the dining room, there was a lively round of applause for “Spanky”. He did the only thing a guy could do in that situation, and raised his arms high in the air, accepting the fact that he was the master of his domain. I can’t help but wonder why he wouldn’t have at least tried to get some help when she came in, or just apologized profusely, and begged for her not to tell anyone. I find that most women are sympathetic, and the last person you want to piss of is the campy. She knows why you’ve been leaving a garbage can full of lubey tissues every night (Right, Emmy?), and she can withhold your soap (Right, Chin?), or make your sheets pretty itchy if she wants to. Nope, best to treat the campies nice, leave them a tip and a thank you note when you are going home, and smuggle your “garbage” to the toilet before you go to work in the morning. These are just a few things that I’ve learned over the years, and I always have the softest towels, and the freshest sandwiches ;).

This was last night's sunset from the ice road. Sometimes, I really like being here

The lap dance is always better when the stripper’s cryin’,

Birdman