How to Quit

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I’ve worked over forty-nine jobs in the Frederick County area.  That’s given me a wide range of work experiences, especially how to quit and how to get fired.  I now command salaries of up to nine dollars an hour.

At my last job, my boss, Jena, a rather attractive woman asked me to please get to work. I winked at her and said, “Jena, there is nothing wrong with getting a little behind.”
That was my last day there.

I have sales experience in jewelry, real estate, fire alarms, frozen steaks, furniture, and marijuana. None of these jobs was lucrative, but selling marijuana helped me to get laid once.

One of my qualities is that I take jobs that require mindless labor and no responsibility, and focus on getting to know my co-workers.  On the clock, I’m a real people person.

My main requirement now is that I work with women. My motto has always been: Work hard, play hard, but don’t play hard to get.  I’ve always appreciated promiscuous female co-workers–without them, I wouldn’t have had nearly as much sex on the job.

I’m currently seeking employment as a Mystery Shopper inside dialysis clinics.  Keeping a close eye on nurses comes naturally to me.

When I look back at my past, I can see that my future has to be better. It can’t be any worse.  It is always darkest just before the light.

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Third Degree Chafing

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Many years ago, they built a major highway just a half of a mile from my neighborhood. My brother, Dave, our neighbor Chip, and I decided to check it out one weekend, after about a week of rain.

We put our boots on. Mine were missing, so I grabbed my mother’s. Chip took the lead. He was tall and lean, with long legs. Dave was next and I was last. I was as wide as I was tall. Following them through the mud was fun, until I began to sink into the puddle they had just trudged through.
“Dave! Help–I’m sinking! It’s quicksand mud!”

They came back and carefully grabbed my hands without stepping too close, but I was going in deeper. Then the inevitable happened: because of the fear and straining, I pooped my pants.
The smell was suffocating. Chip and Dave must have caught a whiff, because they let my hands go, turned and started walking.
Hadn’t they watched old Tarzan movies were somebody dies in the quicksand?!?

I realized this was a life or death situation. With all my effort, I jumped, I jumped right out of my mother’s boots. I landed on my side, rolled to my back and did a backstroke with a hard kick, moving maybe three feet to safety. That was the longest walk home ever: uphill in only socks and soiled pants. I made it through, even though I did suffer some third degree chafing. Thank God for petroleum jelly.
I was tough. I didn’t cry until after I told Mom I lost her boots.

Touch up my Resume

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Time to touch up the old resume. Let me see, should I give them the phone number of my last employer, hell no. Although I am a good worker, when my employment is terminated, I tend to go out with a bang. One time I threw a large pot full of hot Brussels Sprouts all over the kitchen floor and stomped through them on my way out the door. I am a crazy cook with little patience. A bad combination for long term employment. I have always gotten jobs, it is keeping them that I’m not good at. So fudge the Resume again, get a job , get a check. That is what life is all about.

Cheerleaders

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“Ugh Um-gow-ah! TJ has the power!”
TJ–short for Thomas Johnson–was my high school.
The cheerleaders were doing a bang up job tonight.

“Cigarette ashes, cigarette butts! Grab the referee by the nuts.”
They yelled out another one.
They shook their hips and swirled their pom poms.

“Elevator, Elevator! We got the shaft!”
I was the only player not watching the game.
I found the cheerleaders, and what they had to say, fascinating.

Escape to the Beach

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I’d escaped to Greenbriar Lake. The beach looked great and there were plenty of women to look at.
Underneath my tortoiseshell sunglasses my eyeballs were really working.

My strategic towel placement put me in amongst a group of young women.
I took off my shirt, struggling to get it off. I knew all eyes were on me.
When I looked around, I think they quickly looked away.
They must have seen that I was still in a full sweat just from walking the short distance from my car. My body glistened in the sun. Make a note to cut back on the weed tomorrow.

The lifeguard was a frail young man who probably never saved anyone with my massive muscle buildup.
As I walked forward to get in the water, I flexed all the muscles in my back and buttocks. I heard one small girl scream, but I could not determine if she was looking at me.
I’d worn my new double-extra large red trunks and I knew I was looking hot.

One woman actually spoke to me. She asked if I was a good swimmer.
I told her I was a excellent breast stroker.
Life is a beach.

A Working Man

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I’ve worked over forty-five jobs in the Frederick County area alone, which gives me a wide range of work experience. I now command salaries of up to nine dollars an hour.

At my last job, my boss, Jena, a rather attractive woman asked me to please get to work. I winked at her and said, “Jena, there is nothing wrong with getting a little behind.”
That was my last day there.

I do have marketing experience, having sold jewelry, real estate, fire alarms, frozen steaks, furniture, and marijuana. None of these jobs was very lucrative, but selling marijuana did help me to get laid once.

One of my qualities is that I take those jobs that require mindless labor and no responsibility, and enjoy them. I got tired of being a barn helper, though–that manure really stinks.

My main requirement now is that I work with women. My motto has always been: Work hard, play hard, but don’t play hard to get. I haven’t met my soul mate yet. If it wasn’t for a few promiscuous female co-workers, I wouldn’t have had much sex yet either.

I may be moving ten miles away to Washington County. This opens up a whole new job market. They have more barns there. When I look back at my past, I can see that my future has to be better. It can’t be any worse.
It is always darkest just before the light.

Cruising the Backroads on Friday night

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Another Friday night out–
Vance, Tish, Karl, and myself parked out on Masser Road. We were drinking beers, and smoking some weed. I was driving my father’s red and black Ford LTD with a big 351 engine.
What happened that night we wouldn’t soon forget.

There is a bridge where Masser turns into Opossomtown Pike,
and a small hill before the bridge, which we hit going about 85 miles per hour.
We shot into the air and stayed in the air for about thirty feet.
We landed on the other side of the bridge in a patch of gravel. The car turned sideways, and we skidded for another twenty feet, and stopped maybe one inch from a large oak tree.
Dead silence reigned for about three seconds, then uproarious laughter erupted.

The next day, Dad wanted to know why his car smelt funny.
Tish had shit his pants in mid-air, and we had cleaned it up, but,
I sprayed the back seat with Right Guard deodorant, and it did smell funny.
That was all we talked about that week, and then it became a fond memory.