Okay, this is Tanner posting. I'll promise to keep the language clean this week. Here are a few stories that have all happened since Monday (two days ago).
So the other day I was driving down one of the dirt roads close to our house and I came across this scene. As for the 150 feet leading up to the truck, everything that was once in his truck, was thrown all over the road and into the weeds. It should go without saying there was more than one beer can on the side of the road.
On Monday a gentleman by the name of Dolin, who just so happens to be writing a book about "Kindness in America" was hitch hiking cross country and telling about his experiences. He was sitting on his pack on the side of the road, eating his lunch, when a man by the last name of Danielson pulled up in his truck. Dolin thought was going to offer him a ride, and stood up and started walking towards the truck. As Dolin walked up to his truck, Danielson pulled out a gun and shot him. Apparently for no reason. Just for the sake of wanting to shoot someone. Luckily, for Dolins sake, he lived, and was able to give a pretty good description of the man and the truck he was driving. Four hours later, they found Danielson drunk and arrested him.
The next story is a doozy. So Carissa came home from work the other night and told me about a kid who came into the emergency room with a broken foot. How did he break his foot you might ask? His brother broke it..................... In the supermarket................... After they got in an argument over who could drink the most beer in one sitting................ In the supermarket.................So try and wrap your mind around that for a second. Two brothers get into a little "he said, she said" disagreement and it somehow ends up with the two of them ON THE GROUND WRESTLING in the aisle of the supermarket, as one of them grabs the others ankle, and starts to twist it saying "admit I can drink mo' beer o' I'm gunna break yer ankle," mean while the other is yelling "don't yew do it, don't yew do it! You can't drink more than me!" and then the brother snaps it.
It kind of reminds me of the scene in Talledega Nights when the frenchman Jean Girard wants to break Ricky Bobbys arm because he won't admit crepes are better than pancakes.
Okay and the last story happened last night. Carissa came home and was telling me about a guy who had been stabbed in the throat. Turns out Billy Bob (I made the name up for the sake of the story. Keep reading and you'll realize it's probably a pretty good assumption on my part) had a little secret he had been hiding for over 35 years. He liked to wear womens underwear. His little secret had gotten out in the man camp he was living in. So in order to put an end to it, he decided to take his own life. The way he thought best to do so, was apparently stabbing himself in the throat. So ol' Billy Bob got a little bit of liquid courage (booze) in him, mixed with the 3 previous days worth of meth, and went about stabbing himself in the trachea. Only problem was, he became a "Chicken Sh*@" about halfway through trying to take his life and he backed out. Now I didn't make that phrase up. That was what he kept calling himself as Carissa and the rest of the ER crew were trying to attend to him.
As you guys can see, we keep very entertained up here. Carissa said almost every single patient they see, the person or persons are completely hammered drunk.
With the exception of the guy who crashed his motorcycle without a helmet last night, (I guess I can't say he was without a helmet, he had one, it was strapped to his backseat and he wasn't wearing it) most of them are drunk or high, or a pretty good mix of both.
All in all, we both actually like it up here. The non oil workers up here are some of the nicest and most genuine people we have ever met, and I'm sure some of the oil workers are as well. The one thing we are certain of we definitely won't be short on entertainment while we are here.