Lazy Love
Okay, this is the
twelfth in the Lazy series. The others are getting
deleted from
CL. If you would like to read the others, drop me a line and
I'll send
you the
link to the ones I have archived on my site.
FYI: Just because you request the link that does NOT mean you
wanna
bang me,
have me spam you incessantly, be buddy buddies, or even like
me. It
means you
want the link. I'll send it to you, and that, comrade, will
be That.
Onward.
So, no one liked Squirrelfriend, huh? Bummer.
Thought it was a good bit myself...
But I'm a busted chromosome so what do I know? *laughs*
*sip*
Now I know that time and distance seem to soften the shittier parts of
our memories and we tend to
only remember 'da good parts' but for the most part the rock Really was
a good place for me.
Again, the main reason I left that place was due to the decided lack of
women.
Having said that, that does NOT mean there were NO women
there. Far from it.
Alaskan women are a special breed, unlike any I've met anywhere in my
travels, (and I Have been
around the block a few times). The first Real Woman I met up
there was a chick named Vera. I owe her
my life and love her dearly. She rescued me from the slime
line (a fait worse than death) and
began my career as a trayer.
*ponders*
Traying doesn't mean squat to you, huh? Brief run down...
Fish come into the factory, they are Headed, their Bellies are slit
open, the guts are Pulled out, the blood
and Slime is cleaned out of the cavity, they are Graded, they are
Scaled (ya, that one got me too, it has
nothing to do with the scales of a fish, this is where they are weighed
on a Scale) they are put on Trays,
the trays are then Pulled into a Blast Freezer, once frozen they are
Glazed, Packed, and Shipped to NYC
for rich fucks to spend way too much money on *shrugs*
Vera didn't pick me to tray because I was cute, charming, witty, and oh
so sexy, no. She picked me because
I was kinda tall and you need to be tall to reach the top tray.
Compared to the slime line traying was ten times more work and a
million times better (in my book) Slime line
you are chained to, you Can't move around. One spot, all day
(and most of the night), repetitive motion....
Crazy making.
Traying you get to move around some, take a step here, a step there,
bend over, stand up... heaven.
Vera stuck me on the number two table. Number ones are the
good stuff, number two fish are less than stellar....
mushy, shark bites, over zealous head cut, Something is Wrong with them.
Remember the pattern? After the slime line came the
graders? Ya, Graders would look at each and every fish and
determine if it was a number one or a number two (or, *shudders* a
number three... we won't go there) If it was a number
one then it went down a chute to the scalers and so on...
A number two, though, THAT didn't go down the chute.... it went over
the shoulder, right in the face of whatever poor
schmuck they got stuck doing number twos that season....
That was me, see. New guy on the crew. And that was
when I
met the next two loves of my life; Gracy, who had all the
charms and grace of a bulldog, and Karen, what this board would
affectionately call a BBW... a BBW with an arm
of steal. She could huck a fish like there was no tomorrow...
She also seemed to have eyes in the back of her head, 'cause no matter
Where I was standing, she always managed
to nail me square in the face.
By the end of the first season I loved these women dearly... not fuck
your brains out love, but the bust your left nut
to pull your fat out of the fire love, stay up all night holding your
hand because the idiot cable guy ran over your dog with his
truck love, sift through the smoldering remains of your house looking
for any memories which may have survived love...
And still, all these years and all these miles later know where you
live and stay in touch love...
People? You wanna snag a Good Man? On who will Be
There when it really matters?
Go buy a few nice big fat raw fish and smack that guy you have your eye
on upside the head...
If he doesn't sue you then he's the ONE.
Rock on