|Posted on May 28, 2010 at 11:54 PM|
After a few more minutes of stop and go traffic, and getting yapped at by Russ, who seemed like he didn't know what he was doing, we finally arrived at the house. A nice little house with a garage. It was a nice looking house on the inside as well, a house I wish I had. Judging on how Toronto is, being my first visit I would love to live here. But, as we talked to the landlord (a bald French-Canadian man in his fifties) he said that the cost was around Sixteen Hundred dollars a month. Holy fuck!
As we began to move items from the trailer to the house, Russ had finally lightened up, and apologized for being such a shithead. I take some blame in questioning him, but for the most part I was right and he was wrong. Unloading took two hours, the last thing was the large antique shelf that I was talking about earlier. What a pain in the ass to move. The size, and also being careful not to drop it sucked, also moving it in three different spots was a bitch.
Now I know how the cops at the end of the movie Super Troopers felt like. I didn't like being pushed around by two lesbos, They didn't like that I was moving fast with the boxes, and told me to slow down. But, they were the ones paying me, plus they bought me lunch and dinner. Towards the end, I heard Natalie as she turned her back, she said "white trash".
Nice one Natalie. Not the first time I've been called that, but I pretended not to hear her and continued to finish up. When I was done, I used Natalie's cellphone, cause she had reception, and checked to see if I had any messages, especially about any more side work.
At this time, I was sadly living with my mom because of the shitty economy. My brother answered the phone and asked why I was calling from a 519 area code. Obviously, Natalie had changed her cellphone number. I told him I was doing a big moving job in Toronto, and I would be back between midnight and six AM. He told me my place of employment called, but he didn't have any details on the message. Since we have voice mail, and not an answering machine, I had him call me back on Natalie's phone so he can relay the message. I was bewildered by Natalie who was acting like a stuck-up broad. I guess I was just a bumbling plastic mold machine operator, and was socially unacceptable to her.
Anywho, a full two and a half hours later of moving and talking to the landlord, we went off. My job confirming that I was off for the week was good, I would hate to come home by four in the morning, and then having to go to my job with no sleep. But I was off the whole week, so it didn't matter.
Now this is where the story becomes more interesting. Instead of taking the two vehicles back to Ferndale, the lesbos pile into the truck (which was a four-seater) with us. So we close the trailer, and leave the house down to the highway. But on our way a driver informs us that the trailer door is open. I guess Russ didn't close the door right. Even though it would have been an easy fix, Russ parks the truck on the middle of the busy street at around eight o'clock in the evening like a fucking retard.
Natalie told me that she had family member die in a car accident, and was worried about Russ. What Russ didn't understand that there was a gas station next to us with a large parking lot. Large enough for him to park his truck and fix the issue. I suggested to the lesbos that we go there to do this, and not in the street. So I got out of the truck to inform Russ about this.
I step out onto the busy street thinking to myself, 'why the fuck did I volunteer for this shit anyway?' I walk past the slow moving traffic and met Russ at the end of the trailer who was trying to figure out why the back door wasn't closing.
First, I said, "Hey Russ? There is a gas station next to us, and it has tons of space. So why don't we park the truck there, and figure out the problem over there?"
He said, "No, i'll get it fixed real quick."
I said, "Yeah, but if it takes a few minutes, you're blocking traffic."
He said, "Stop worrying, i'll get it done soon."
I whaled back to the truck with the realization that this motherfucker does not know what he is doing, and in a dark spot in my mind I knew this was going to take longer then real quick.
I walk back to the truck thinking I won't get back to Michigan till tomorrow afternoon, while seeing the traffic, and wishing I was home. Once in the truck, I told the lesbos that Russ is fixing it here, and he said it would only be a few minutes.
So a few minutes later, being stuck in the middle of Yonge street, I hoped that the police would show up, and tell this prick to move his truck. As expected, Russ was still having trouble with the trailer door closing. The lesbos got fed up, since we didn't travel far from their new home just yet, they decided to walk back to the car. I was going to join them, but the lesbos told me I should stay with Russ. I told them that I would help if Russ were to move his truck into the parking lot, and not be in the middle of the road.
The two yelled at Russ to move the truck, but he assured them that he would have it fixed, and was using a strap on the door instead. I asked if I could ride with the girls instead of him, but they said "no."
The two walked away, and I was getting really angry that I had to stay here with this idiot and wished that the lesbos would let me ride with them, cut loose, and have a threesome, but no. The two of them or at least the ample Natalie believes I am white trash.
Now, I am on the sidewalk, as they are walking away and trying to convince Russ to move to the parking lot. I got a horrid response, so I said "fuck this" and walked to the gas station to get a Pepsi with my American dollars. My doubt was true though, the clerk wouldn't take my filthy American money, but instead asked where I was from in America. I stepped out of the mini mart, but not too far from it. Russ was wrapping a large industrial strap around his truck, and was calling for me.
I really didn't want to help him out. It was embarrassing enough that this guy was parked in the middle of the street, but him not listening to the logical solution on parking in the lot instead made me uneager to help. I do the nice thing of helping this poor bastard out and we take both ends of the strap and tie it to the front. And finally, an hour later (not real quick), this hellish situation was over!
Russ then asks me where the two girls went off to.
I told him the obvious that they went home to get the car.
Then, finally he told me, "Okay, I'll park at the gas station and wait for them."
I shook my head and asked myself if I was sleeping and having a really bad nightmare, but no I was awake. He stepped into the truck, and heard the engine start. But for some reason, Russ stepped out. I guessed that he was checking on the strap, but I feared his truck has automatic locks upon starting the engine. Russ finished checking the strap, and walked back to the truck and the door would not open.
"Jesus Christ." I said to myself as this dumb motherfucker bangs his head on the drivers side window. First, this cocksucker insists that we park on a busy street to repair the trailer, then he fucking locks himself out of his truck?!
I must admit that I am a slow learner, but this fucking idiot has it worse. But when I think I must have a seriously poor learning ability (or lack thereof), I have to think about this fucking idiot.
He walks towards me to tell me the bad news, but I already know. Breaking into his truck would be a good idea. I could smash the fucking glass and get into the truck. The fucking cocksucker deserves it! This moron locks himself out of his truck in the middle of a busy street! I was trying to find a civil way to fix this mess, But busting his window out sounded nice to me, and fun. I don't know any emergency numbers here in Toronto for roadside assistance, however I noticed that the back window on Russ's truck had a sliding window. I let Russ know about that and presto, it slides over.
He says, "It works."
And it's about fucking time!
He gets into the truck, starts it up, and heads for the gas station's parking lot. At the same time, the lesbos show up. We head for the store and they bought me that Big Slam Pepsi. I told them that my gratitude would extend (along with my cock) if I could ride with them back to Michigan. Sadly, they said no once again.
Something tells me that one of these lesbos has dated a man before, but he didn't meet her (or their) high expectations or he (or they) could have been a total fuck-up.