contractor – f-your blog

Living In A Small Town: Friday Night Down At Timeout Tavern

There’s a Saying that “There is No Pace to Hide in a Small Town.”, and the Saying couldn’t be Truer. It’s Not the Geographical Confines that make Hiding Hard it’s the Fact that the cliche is True Everyone Knows Everyone Else. Not only that but They know all About Their extended Family, Achievements, Down Falls, The Good, The Bad, and all the Bullshit In-between. You see Gossip is the Social Currency of the South that the Majority of the Population Banks On. I’m Not necessarily bitching Here because I knew this before Ever Moving to the Souther Country, and as such Deemed it as Something that comes with the Territory.

Last Year Timeout Tavern Opened providing the Town with it’s First Actual Bar and Local Drinking Hole. Not only did Timeout Tavern Open in a Small Town it did so During the Pandemic, and it Thrived mainly due to the Locals being to Stupid for Their Own Good (I guess it falls Under doing Something Good (supporting Your Local Businesses) for the Wrong Reason (IT’S CALLED QUARANTINE). Anyway I digress. Luckily Timeout Tavern and Most of the Locals Survived the Brunt of 2020, and is Doing Better than Ever in all Honesty. I attribute the Tavern’s Success to One Main Factor and that being that Before Opening the Owner did Her Homework. She got a Lay of the Land if You Will Seeing what the Market was like and Moreover what People where Looking for. In a Small Town a Bar is more than just Booze it’s the fucking Entertainment Center for the Entire fucking Town.

You have to Remember Small Towns literally Shut the fuck Down at 6pm and there is No Night Life to Speak Of. Thus Timeout Tavern provides Booze Obviously as well as Food (Up until there Opening all We fucking had as a Stellar Chinese Takeout Restaurant as Our Sole Option), There Pool Tables since the Locals love Killing Time at the Pool Table, Special Events like Ladies Night, Karaoke Thursday Nights, and Live Bands every Saturday as Far as providing a Variety of Entertainment Options. It should also be Noted that in a Part of the Country still Languishing in its Love of Tobacco the Owner researched the Local Laws Pertaining to Smoking, and Established a way for Patrons to Smoke inside.

Finally After My Wife and I were Fully Vaccinated and it had been the Full 2 weeks Post Second Injection had an Opportunity to Check Out the Timeout Tavern for Ourselves. It’s a Nice Bar nothing fucking Special, but its definitely not some Shitty Hole in the Wall. The Owner and Bartenders are about the Nicest fucking People I have ever had the Pleasant Surprise of Meeting. The Patrons are made of Locals from Town as well as the Neighboring Town being that its only 8 Miles Down the Road. Everyone is friendly as fuck and Buying Shots for One another is a Very Popular thing to Do. So Since My Wife’s Work Schedule has Relaxed a bit We have gotten into the Habit of Hitting Up Timeout Tavern on Friday Nights, and this Friday was No Exception.

The thing that Stands Out as Odd as far as Timeout Tavern is Concerned is in a Small Town full of Blue Collar Laborers (and Avid Church Goers) is the it gets Busier the Later it Gets, and Timeout Tavern is Open till 2 am or Later if Business is Booming so to Speak. I figured the Peak Hours would be from 5pm the Time most People Around Here Clock Out for the Day and perhaps 10:30-11:00 pm Tops. The Truth of the Matter is Timeout Tavern Business Starts Picking Up around 9:30 or so. It Picks up to the Point where there’re Three times as Many People there When We Leave then when We Arrived.

This Works well Because There need to be Enough People for Me to People Watch and be Entertained, but Once it Starts getting Crowded (like Saturdays with the Live Bands and All) I get fucking Irritated and Leave. I Don’t like People though I can Tolerate Them for Shorter Periods of Time. I hate being Packed in a Loud and Noisy Bar like fucking Cattle with No Personal Space to Speak Of. Also the More People that come is Directly related to the Volume of the Music in the Bar so More People the Louder the Music. I am a music Lover No Doubt but I can’t fucking Stand it being so Loud I can’t Hear what the fuck People are Saying to Not being able to Think Straight. To Me that’s Not Fun thats fucking Irritating to No End.

When We Arrived there was a Handful of People there as Per Usual and We sat down across the Bar from a Big Old Country Boy and Who I believe was His Father (all I know is it was Some Silver Haired Weathered Looking Biker who He seemed Quite Comfortable with). Time went by uneventfully for the Most Part until a Moronic Immature Man-Child came in and got Too Drunk for His Own Good. Then the Sloppy Drunk Juvenile Jackass insulted the Poor Bartender when He ordered a Round of what is called “The Fat Hooker”. This Feeble Minded Fool is so Intoxicated He kept calling the Shot a “Fat Whore”, and then Announced to Everyone Near by that He had Never bought Anyone a Fat Whore, and that the Skinny Whore (the Bartender) was going to get it. The Bartender wasn’t taking shit from Anyone especially this Binge Drinking Dipshit so She went on the War Path while the Rest of the Bar got Her Back. Once the Dumbfuck put His Tail between His Legs and made a Quick Exist it turned out An Older Man there was the Drunken Dick’s Boss who Informed Us all that the Guy was a Bratty Son of a Bitch who has been Leeching Off His Dad like a White Trash Trust Fund Baby.

Once the Drunken Idiot Issue was resolved everything went back to a Normal Bar and all was Well. Then at One Point I noticed the Big Old Country Boy Stood Up and Started to Walk Towards Me with Purpose. Due to His rather Large Size it Didn’t take Him long to End up Standing Directly Next to Me on the Right. Now here was what was Going on in My Mind at this Point:

Did I do Something to Offend/Insult this Guy and Now He wants to fucking Fight Me?
If He does want to Fight So Be It, but I’ll need an Equalizer due to the Drastic Size Differential so I’d most likely Hit Him with My Beer Bottle at the First Sign of Trouble.
Did I meet this Guy before at the Bar and was So Drunk I simply Forgot and Now I’m going to have to Try and Bullshit My way Through this Encounter?
Is This Guy just Simply trying to be Friendly and Introduce Himself?
Is This Guy a Cop?
Is This Guy going to Try and Sell Me Weed?

Luckily for Me the Big Old Country Boy stated His Purpose/Intent without an awkward Delay. He asked Me if “My Mom was Still Out at The Plantation?” which at First Confused Me. I then Realized He meant My Mom’s Family Farm that was (even though My Mother hates to Admit it) an Actual Plantation. So I replied that Yes She was, and He goes on to tell Us that He’s a General Contractor Who Four Years Ago My Mom had Called to Repair a Botched Job with Her Upstairs Shower that Occurred During Installation. Not just that but He had come over to say Hello because He remembered My Wife and I from Our Wedding Photos Hanging in My Mom’s Farmhouse. Apparently My Mom had made a Lasting Impression that She is a Nice Lady, but You sure as Hell wouldn’t want to make an Enemy of Her. I definitely couldn’t Argue since He was Absolutely right My Mom can be Your Biggest Ally or Your Biggest Enemy. Simply My Mother is a fucking Force of Nature Not to be Contented with. I couldn’t Help finding it Funny that My Mom has some Serious Country Style Street Credit.

The Part of the Conversation that I found More than Entertaining (and Equally Interesting to Learn) was when He said “Your Mother called Me in for a Tiling Job for Her upstairs Shower that the Original Guy(s) fucked up, She Didn’t Say that Mind You, but You knew thats what She Meant.” You know You’re a fucking Bad ass when You Don’t even have to Drop an F-Bomb, Yet People Still Fully Understand What Your Saying and That You’re Not to be Trifled with. It reminds Me of Actor Kevin Spacey’s unique Brand of Controlled Rage where He Doesn’t Yell or Lash Out, but You know He’s Dead fucking Serious. At this point I decided to properly Introduce Myself and found out the Man’s Name is Wade. The Funny thing is Wade also informed us “I know where You live Too.” because He apparently liked the House We bought and was even Considering Possibly Buying it Himself. That and Wade Literally Lives on My Street which is Why He extended an Open Invitation to Stop on By when I see Him working in His Garage.

My Wife told Wade the Story of How one of the First things We did Prior to Moving in Full Time was We replaced the Upstairs Toilet. Since We Don’t have Trash Pick Up of Any Kind We had to load the Crapper into the Car and Drop it Off at the Local Trash Dump. The Dump is actually a Parking lot filled with Various Dumpsters for Various Things (like Yard Waste, Old Tires, Metal etc.) and Two Trash Compacters that sit Side By Side. The Reason I mention this is to Distinguishing Our Dump from the Usual Trash Dump People think of thats Archers of Trash Piled High as Mountains. Once My Brother’s Wife’s Father came to Visit and Thought the Dump was the Typical Giant Putrid Mountain Range of Garbage, and got excited about Going Down to the Dump to Shoot Rats like He did as a Kid. The fucking Bizarre thing is When I was carrying the Toilet to the Appropriate Dumpster a Man who was a Complete Stranger approached Me and said “So You’re the Ones that Bought the House on Such and Such Street.” which Blew My Mind because again I never seen this fucking Guy before in My Life. That was My First Real Lesson in What living in a Small Town is Actually like in Reality.

After Our Chat Wade Returned to His Side of the Bar, and My Wife and I spent a few Minutes discussing How fucking Uniquely Strange Living in a Small Town is because Shit like this happens Frequently. I’m from Up North where You don’t even Look at Your Neighbor more or Less Conversate with Them. Where I grew Up You just ignored the Hell out of Your Neighbors under the guise that Neighbors are Typically More Trouble than They’re Worth. I then glanced at My Phone to check the Text Messages, and when I looked up I Saw Wade Pointing at My Wife in the Classic “You want a Shot I’m Buying.” Stance. My Wife Doesn’t start Drinking Until She is Ready In Spite of Being at a Bar so She Replied that She wasn’t Currently Drinking but Thank You just the Same. Wade then immediately Turned His Attention to Me and Boisterously Announced “I Know His Mom, I Know He Needs a Shot!” Which is the Country Version of Respectfully Busting Your Balls so I didn’t get all Bent About it in the Least. In Fact it was just the Opposite I said He was definitely correct and received My Free Shot.

Later on the Bartender Stopped by and Dropped Off a Beer and told Me that it was from Wade. I thanked Wade Who responded by Saying Loudly “He’s a Good Guy and a Good Guy to know since He’ll be Running Everything Someday.” which is Pretty Accurate. What Wade was alluding to is He is a Contractor, My Mom’s Farm always has Work that Needs to be Done, and when the Time Comes I will be in Charge of it all. This is Almost Totally accurate accept Wade seems to be Unaware I have a Younger Brother Who will be Running the Farm Jointly with Me. The Irony is My Mother’s current and Long Time Contractor is getting Close to Retiring especially since His Life of Physical Labor is taking a Heavy Toll on His Health (His Back is Shot to Shit). So crossing Paths with Wade at this Time was Perfect since We will be needing a New Contractor in the Near Future once the Current one Calls it Quits at Last.

So as I have Adjusted (and still am Honestly) to Small Town Life I never thought I’d be the One to say it, But Small Town Life is Easy Living. I never in mY wildest fucking Dreams thought I’d ever Settle Down in a Small Town and Not Only Not Hate it, but Come to Embrace it as well. I suppose its Life’s way of Letting You Know that it’s in the Drivers Seat Regardless of What You may Think or have Planned.

Thanks For Reading,

By Les Sober

The Tale of the Small Town MothMan Mural

When We moved from the Southern Swamp to the Southern Country one of the advantages of the move was there were several structures located out back behind our new home offices. There was a large one car garage which We unceremoniously designated for the usual trivial shit like Lawn Mowers, Various garden tools, Paint cans, and for a few months 2 large puppies (who now have their own Dog House complete with Heater and Air Conditioning)

The second structure was a run of the mill silver, 10 foot high, 20 foot long, 8 foot wide, sheet metal shed supported by an internal basic wooden frame. When We purchased the property the shithead previous owners failed to give us among many other things the keys to unlock said shed. We could see through the 4 small windows (2 per side) and do a very general assessment. From what we could see the only real issue other than getting a new lock was the plywood floor was rotten in 2 separate places and would need patching.

Once We got the shed lock changed and were able to enter the structure things looked as if the shed was worser for the wear than We had anticipated. Even if it needed more TLC than We thought it was still a viable option to be My Art Studio (Yes I paint and Draw in a variety of various mediums such as CharCoal or Oil Paints. I have recently decided that it is at this point in my life I will be pursuing Sculpting as creating a 3 dimensional project is going to be fucking awesome and intense.) The first thing I did was load it up with all my various art supplies (Canvases, Paints, Brushes, Assortment of Project Materials etc.), but the floor fix would take time, and I have NO PATIENCE, NON AT ALL. Its A Virtue I was born without and I’m totally fucking fine with that.

It took less than a day before I was wallowing in frustrated boredom and thought to myself that if I couldn’t currently use the shed I could still in the mean time decorate the outside. I drove to the local hardware store in the neighboring town and loaded up on Spray Paint big time. I had no idea what I was going to Paint on the side of the shed so first I selected which side I would do first. The rightsize of the shed made a small alleyway between it and the garage so space to work was limited. The same was true of the back of the shed even more so as our fence came in even closer proximity than the garaged and the sheds right wall. That left me with the choice of either the front or the left side of the shed to choose from. I chose the left side since it was bigger and had the best area in which to work.

I walked around the to the left side of the shed and stood there just looking at the shed without a thought in my mind waiting. It didn’t take long before an idea popped into my head MOTHMEN/MOTHMAN. Now before the first fool blurts out how much they loved the movie “The Mothman Prophecies” shut the fuck up. True it was a some what decent movie, but the Mothman is not solely limited to the Point Pleasant, West Virginia 1967 Silver Bridge Collapse that killed 46 people. The Mothman or Mothmen if you will have been seen in different areas before an impending disaster strikes such places as Chernobyl circling Reactor 4, before 9/11 in New York City, The I-35 Bridge Collapse in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and The Swine Flue Outbreak in Mexico in 2009 for instance.

Now I don’t claim to believe or not believe in such things as UFO’s, Ghost’s, Monsters or Cryptozoology but it all fun food for thought because who actually knows, and all I’m saying is I don’t know. What I do know is I utterly LOVE UNDERDOGS and to me the Mothman is just that, The Underdog of Cryptozoology. The main debate surrounding the Mothman is simply this is the Mothman coming and bringing death/doom/disaster with it OR is the Mothman a supernatural being/creature that comes to WARN US of immediate impending danger?! I hold with the latter of the two believes myself. It all added up to a quick decision that the mural I’d Spray Paint on the side of the shed would be The Mothman. (Yet myths, legends and lore interest me to no end ever fueling the fires of my undying curiosity.)

I should take a moment to add that the left side of the shed faced the street in a small neighborhood in a tiny town located along the Bible Belt. For this reason and this reason alone I wrote “Mothman” across its chest because while the Mothman was enough to turn many a head I didn’t want (nor need for that matter) for the locals to think the new guy was painting Devils or Demons on the side of his shed.

In a few days the Mothman was finished and I decided the silver background was fucking up my visual of the Mothman. I thought about background colors to use (My wife suggested blue and I should have listened, but I was thinking Navy Blue not say Sky Blue) and some how I chose Orange. On top of using Orange for the background I used a VERY DEEP AND INTENSE shade only to realize when it was all said and done the Orange background made it look more demonic than I’d liked or intended. I didn’t want to change the mural so Mothman with Orange background and all remained vigilantly watching the passerby on the road for months.

Unfortunately upon a proper inspection of the shed, the shed was found to be structurally unsound. The floor was completely shot and would need total replacement. The supporting wood infrastructure was compromised beyond belief. This was apparently due to the fact the previous owner had tried to wire up the shed with electricity themselves and fucked it up causing a fucking fire. The fire had burned a majority of the roof supports right through so if you tapped on them with a hammer they disintegrated.

I called my contractor and informed him that the shed was shot and I’d need his help tearing it down so as We could replace it. 3 or4 days later my contractor showed up with a small handful of workers who set off demolishing the rickety old shed. It only took them a few mere hours to reduce the standing structure into piles of scrap.

That evening I was talking on the phone to my Brother in the Great Northern New Yonder and he asked what was new. I told him about the failing inspection of the doomed shed and that it had been torn down and hauled off. I also told him that for a split second I thought about asking my contractor if the Mothman Mural could be salvaged, but in the end I just let it go. My Brother started laughing, not in an at me type manner, but a “He hasn’t figured it out yet” kind of way. Once he paused to catch his breath I asked him what he found so fucking amusing about the whole ordeal?! I had spent all the time and effort to paint the Mothman mural just to have it crushed and carted away in the end. He responded by saying that if I believed the Mothman was a Warning of impending danger, then painted one on the side of the shed, and then ultimately the shed met its demise then it followed my Mothman belief to a tee.

I couldn’t help laughing because he was dead right. A dilapidated shed, a Mothman Mural painted upon it, and 4 moths later the shed and the mural are gone having been destroyed in the dismantling process.

Thanks For Das Read,

Les Sober

Its All A Matter Of Perspective

I just bought a new property somewhere in Podunkville East Cackalacki and hired a new contractor (not new per say he’s worked with my family on a myriad of projects, but this is the 1st time he will be working with us) named Rock EnRoll. When I was returning home I texted Rock the following text:

“The side gate by the pond in open”

All that meant was exactly what it said as its only value is face value.

Rock called back in less than 90 seconds and was all worked up talking so fast all I heard was his thick as tar southern accent. I was a tad bit stoned and rather exhausted so I handed the phone to my Wife stating to Rock she was the one who locked the property up.

As it turns out Rock doesn’t text and a rule of thumb is you shouldn’t text Rock. This is because in this small part of the country people keep their fucking cell phones in their pockets out in public (that includes placing their phone on table as if to say, “I swear I won’t check it every 2 fucking seconds to see if I got a text or a fucking FaceBook like for the picture of my goddamn dog in a cowboy hat.”) Now due to this technology differential Rock, among many if not almost all, have no idea or concept on/for interpreting the context of the text. I’ll explain.

Rock received the text, read it and interpreted it as some James Bond 007 super secret 911 code for an emergency AND he needed his help immediately. Why did he draw this conclusion I have truly no idea to be blatantly honest.

I mean when Rock read it did he possible think one or more of the following issues was at hand:

My Wife or I had had a severe and most likely life threatening accident.
There were hostile renegade poachers attacking from the cover of the woods.
A Home Invasion was going down complete with guys in ski masks and machine guns
My Wife and I were battling insane Moonshiner’s over still site(s)
Ali Baba and his 40 thieves were attempting to steal shit.
Wife and I were being “TAKEN” by Liam Neeson.
Wife and I were being abducted by Aliens.
Viciously rabid woodland creatures were surrounding my Wife and I.
The house was engulfed in flame and my Wife and I were stuck upstairs.
My Wife, The House and I were being swallowed up by a sinister sink hole.
Leatherface was running at us with his Chainsaw revving up like a fighter jet engine.
The Hills Have Eyes.
Cannibals were trying to kill us and turn us into BBQ.
Bigfoot was real and holding us hostage.
My Wife and I were in fact secret agents for the CIA and were being targeted by either the drug cartels, mafias, gangs, terrorists or foreign evil governments, and needed impromptu assistancte/help.

That though is only the first part, the second being the gate open part. If we were in fact in immediate danger of some sort why the hell didn’t we say so?! You’d think in an emergency we’d texted “HELP!”, “HELP US”, “911 EMERGENCY!”, “ACCIDENT! Need Help” or “Come Quick we’re in life threatening danger!!” but I didn’t text anything remotely like that that could be misinterpreted or at least that what I thought when I sent the text.

What about the gate being open?! Did Rock think this message of the gate by the pond is open was code for “Help Us, Come Quick! the side gate is open so you can access the property and swoop in and save us from whatever the hell you think the trouble is!”

Well I will never know how a simple one sentence text was thought to be a coded plea for help in a direly dangerous and potentially violent emergency , BUT I did learned my lesson, NO MORE TEXTING ROCK.