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Bareassed on the Border

 

Christ,  where did 2013 come from?  I feel like I am already behind.

Honest, I didn’t plan on this to work out this way but that 80% thing just keeps comin’ around and round….  Exactly 2 years ago today I wrote  this post—-  When did 80% become good enough?   Now I feel like some scary Nostradamus or something.

Maybe I am just naive in my expectations. I get disappointed in that respect almost daily.
One of the problems with this country is lowered expectations. I deal with it everyday with employees and vendors. 80% effort seems to be enough to get by — and they always have a most excellent excuse.

Add the following chapter to my next book tentatively titled  Ridin’ the 80% Train to Hell:

Unlike many gate guards,  I am not blessed with a 250 gallon fuel tank.  My service guy brings me fuel and we pump it off into 4 x 50 gallon drums.  Every other day, rain or shine, I go out and transfer fuel from the drums to the generator.  Part and parcel to the job.  The company provides me with a 12v fuel transfer pump of sorts.  Most of the time I have to work on the company provided pump to get it reliable and functional.  I wish the service guy was as conscientious.

He shows up last Thursday to pump my fuel and he says “Can I use your pump?  BOTH of mine are broken.”  Now, that statement alone sets me off just a tad.  I guess he figures having not one but TWO pumps lets him off the hook to a certain degree and makes him not responsible for the condition of his equipment.   I don’t really get the logic myself.  If you have one pump and it is broken, no bueno.  Of you have TWO pumps and they are BOTH broken, doesn’t that make you a twice-bad slacker?  Anyway, he knew my pump would be working; he as much as told me that.  Slacker 80% logic at its’ very, very best — or so I thought; it gets better.  Next time I think I may just tell him some guy from France stole my pump.

The pot metal pick up tube that is threaded into my pump is designed to reach right exactly to the bottom of a 50 gallon drum and suck the last drops of red diesel out of the barrel.  My service guys tank is bigger – like 400 gallons or so– than my drums but it is not as deep.  We are getting down to the end of the doing and he is up in the bed of his truck trying to get the last quart of diesel out.  My pump is sticking out of his tank about 2 feet in the air because the pick up tube is too long and he is rowing it around in that tank like paddling a raft across the Rio Grande……  and he snaps the pick up tube right off my pump–right at the top where it threads into the pump itself.

Now stuff happens, right?   He treated the equipment in rough fashion and broke it. Good thing we were almost done.  He said ” Awww damn man,  I broke your pump! I will get you a new tube in Laredo and bring it to you tomorrow  (Friday).  I am so sorry!”  He knows how particular I am with my stuff and I could tell he really hated breaking it.  So Friday passes — no service guy, no phone call.  I expected as much, honestly.  Saturday comes around and I have his “I am an 80% sumbitch”  bumper sticker laying on the counter with his name on the back just in case he does show up.  I am not holding my breath let me tell ya.  About the best I am hoping for is a drive by where he throws the tube out the window , hangs a Uey and skedaddles back to Laredo; leaving me to do the fixin’.   3pm roles around –no phone call–nada.  Let me emphasize I have fuel, plenty of it, but it does me little good sitting in those barrels beside the generator with no way to transfer it.   If I want Miss K to have her coffee in the AM, I am going to have to pick up the slack.

I jump in the Suburban and make the 40 mile round trip to Ace Hardware in Cotulla and come back with some PVC pipe and fittings. 20 minutes later I am pumping red diesel into the tank on the generator and that is how you live life in a world of slackers. I signed up for this gig, knowing how the cow eats the cabbage. I am just proud as can be they DO pay us damned good to take up the slack.

…………………..

Bareassed on the Border. The big assed, bare assed neighbor across the street. Clarification in case anybody thinks that is Miss K’s big ass which would earn me the Everlasting Stinkeye from Hell. Just sayin……….

Miss Kathy got back yesterday from the Nudist Ranch RV Park on the Border where her mother lives.  The first morning she was there I get this text “OMG, they drive their golf carts nude.”  Obviously neither she nor I are as worldly as we think.  From all accounts, it took her about a half a day to get kinda sorta acclimated to the ummmm…………. scenery.  For the most part she said she was dealing with senior citizen nudity and mostly Canadian Winter Texans at that, eh?  That pretty much precludes me scheduling a visit because I just simply have enough issues to deal with as is.   As the days went by she actually started to enjoy herself.  She said the people were absolutely and unequivocally THE BEST buncha folks she had been around in a long time.   She said most of the Nudist Ranch is clothing optional with a few  places like the heated pool being strictly nude.  Most people were respectful of her decision to remain clothed.  They wore robes or sarongs or long shirts when they came  visitin’.  Her Mom and BF asked her going in how she would prefer them to ‘present’ during the visit and she said it would be her preference for them to be clothed in her presence.  Double damn ditto on that!

All of which brings us to the clothing optional New Year’s Eve Party at the Clubhouse.  I asked her was she getting pressured to participate on the nudity and her candid reply was “of course they ask but no real pressure.”  She said she had lotsa invites to go swimming and you damned sure can’t  use the excuse that you didn’t bring your bathing suit at a pool where everybody wears their birthday suit.  She goes to the party and says as the night got longer and the level in the liquor bottles got lower the nudity increased. DUH BABY!

She got home yesterday afternoon and me and Tuco the Dog sat down to hear all about her trip.  She was hacking and coughing and said she had picked up a chest cold down at Nudist Ranch.  I asked about the party  and she said she had a wonderful time and had gotten pretty inebriated as befits the occasion.  OK, OK.   I am a double naught spy after all and I can damned sure add 2+2 and come up with 4.  She said she was drinking some wonderful concoction of Bailey’s and Tequila and even if you are not a double naughter,  everybody knows Tequila is the best panty remover known to man.

 

Miss K and The Girls gettin’ some air

Regular readers know Miss K is a card carrying member of the little hot body club and I like her biscuits in my gravy; yes I do for a fact.  We gotta face the facts here however.

Nudist Ranch

New Years Eve Party

Tequila

Clothing Optional

Tequila

Drunk Men

Peer Pressure

More Tequila

Chest Cold

So I just ask her “Baby, did you keep your clothes on?”   Tuco the Dog looks at her  and gives her the Scooby Doo Dog Doubletake “Wuuuurp?” when I say that.  “Of course I did you silly man.”   Well, alrighty then.

End Note Fourplay:   Don’t Do It  by Janiva Magness from the What Love Will Do cd.   Sometimes I am just in the mood for some dirty white woman blues.  Sometimes I could give a damn about being PC as well.  It just makes me weary.

 

 

Janiva tries on some Paul Thorn

 

and Tom Waits

 

 

And she can write them too……

 

and so friends and neighbors, Our music education class for today is done.  Just goes to show GOOD music doesn’t have to be sterilized and packaged all neat and tidy  for mass consumption.

 

 

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7 comments to Bareassed on the Border

  • Warren

    Proud of Miss K. Hope she had a great time.

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  • My initial text message was in regards to- how they NOT burn their asses on the hot vinyl seats in the blistering south Texas sun! I knew it was a Naturists Park after all….

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  • “We was always naked, day and night, whenever the mosquitoes would let us,” said Mark Twain’s river hero Huck Finn.

    Welcome home and Happy New Year, Miss Kathy, we missed you.

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  • Clay

    I am in awe here. There haven’t been many times in my life when I have ever been speechless much less prudent. But I will remain speechless in the name of all things prudent!!!! Except to say! I’d of loved to see the look on Miss K’s face when asked whether she would prefer her mom and BF remain clothed or not! Not many things anyone could say or do that would embarrass me or give me a coronary faster than seeing my mom and dad nude. Wow! Just wow! But, then again, they are living in a nudist colony. I guess it goes with the territory. Now, I will shut up and go back to my snickering!!!

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    • Andrew

      Me and you both Clay. I do know her Mom is happier than she has been in a decade so that makes me happy too.

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  • I have always lived an “alternative” lifestyle. So it goes without saying that I took it in stride. Mom had a picture in her rv of both of them nude right by her laptop. So, i had to turn the photo over during my stay, but, alas too late. So it really doesn’t bother me much. I’m glad she is happy and her boyfriend is “Hot”! You go Girl…..

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  • Mark Rasmussen

    Most of those nudist RV parks require you to put a towel between you and the seat on anywhere you sit. I applied for a caretaker’s job at a totally nude RV park. Employees and guests were required to be nude at all times except during inclement weather. Even running a golf cart or a lawn mower you carried a towel wherever you went and put it on the seat. I drew the line at operating a weed whacker nude though, or frying bacon.

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