Hardhead Without A Hardhat
I was this morning on a ladder tweaking the front of the Dumaine house while the roofers stripped off the hard asbestos shingles, discarding into the side yard of Esnard Villa. It is debatable whether or not working on the outside of a house while it is being de-shingled is good practice. I would generally speaking, advise against it.
An errant broken shingle, and thus jagged of edge, and apparently with my name on it, came flying over the front side and onto the top of my head. Ouch, I said.
I wasn't even going to say anything but a two count after the impact and blood is poring down the front of my face. I did not first pause and consider, oh my dear God, I must look like Carrie at the prom. I yelled out, Hey, Heads Up, which is supposed to be what THEY say, but it was errant, I think, an accident, I think, so they had no real reason to say--Heads Up. This is another crew of congenial, hard-working Mexicans doing another roof in New Orleans. I mean most of them seem congenial. You know, the lead guy is actually sort of a surly son-of-a-bitch. Naw, it was probably an accident.
The guys all stopped and apologized when, leaning over the front of the house, they saw my blood dripping down the front of my head and onto the sidewalk. I went inside to look at myself in a mirror, see what I could see, which was nothing, except blood running down over my eyelids, so I grabbed a t-shirt and draped it over the top of my head, bid my worker friends adieu, and headed over here to Rocheblave.
The Sculptor has gotten so disgusted by lack of local worker response on her house, that she has enlisted friends from New York to do some work for her. They drove down last week
and have been working every day since. When I drove up I saw the man getting tools out of his truck. He waved, apparently not one to judge by appearances (so what if that scruffy looking, long-haired bean pole across the street is wearing an irregularly red polka-dotted t-shirt on top of his head.) I'm pretty sure I don't have any hydrogen peroxide inside the house so I called out and asked him if he did.
When I got closer he said, oh, what happened, with appropriate but not exaggerated concern. Pretty obviously, he has seen Carrie too, and I wasn't really it.
His wife, who has experience doctoring skinny impoverished people in Africa, came out with a chair and made me sit my skinny ass down and asked me was I feeling dizzy or faint, and I said, not really. She poured a river of hydrogen peroxide onto my cut and dabbed at it with cotton balls and then squirted some Neosporin onto my head and put a gauze pad on it and then wrapped it with that really cool stuff you use to wrap horse ankles. What? Oh, purple of course.
I took two Tylenols, got some sushi delivered by my friend Laureen, and I feel well enough to go back to work, except that I'm afraid to because the Mexicans will laugh at me with my purple Aunt Jemima head. And they laugh in Spanish, which I don't fully understand.
Dios mio, el vendaje púrpura se parece ridículo. Pero ... es el color municipal del Nuevo Orleans.
Golpéelo otra vez, y quizás él conseguirá un vendaje de oro.
My God, the bandage purple looks like ridiculous. But... it is the municipal color of the New Orleans.
Strike him again, and perhaps he will obtain a gold bandage.
Good entry. I got a laugh out of this one. A laugh in English, that is.
mi tambien
Jim Louis, please e-mail me at dangerblond@dxxjduyt.com Very important. Thanks. (This isn't spam)
Can you get asbestosis of the brain?
I smell a lawsuit.
I think it should be obvious that I already have asbestosis of the brain, but I was wearing a baseball cap when the shingle hit me, so no actual direct asbestos contact. I don't have the heart for lawsuits. I emailed you, dangerblond.
Reminds me of the time when, at the age of 7, my friends and I were trying to knock apples out of a tree with an airborn hammer... Come to think of it, so does Bill's porch removal story.
I recieved 6 stitches.
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I was this morning on a ladder tweaking the front of the Dumaine house while the roofers stripped off the hard asbestos shingles, discarding into the side yard of Esnard Villa. It is debatable whether or not working on the outside of a house while it is being de-shingled is good practice. I would generally speaking, advise against it.
An errant broken shingle, and thus jagged of edge, and apparently with my name on it, came flying over the front side and onto the top of my head. Ouch, I said.
I wasn't even going to say anything but a two count after the impact and blood is poring down the front of my face. I did not first pause and consider, oh my dear God, I must look like Carrie at the prom. I yelled out, Hey, Heads Up, which is supposed to be what THEY say, but it was errant, I think, an accident, I think, so they had no real reason to say--Heads Up. This is another crew of congenial, hard-working Mexicans doing another roof in New Orleans. I mean most of them seem congenial. You know, the lead guy is actually sort of a surly son-of-a-bitch. Naw, it was probably an accident.
The guys all stopped and apologized when, leaning over the front of the house, they saw my blood dripping down the front of my head and onto the sidewalk. I went inside to look at myself in a mirror, see what I could see, which was nothing, except blood running down over my eyelids, so I grabbed a t-shirt and draped it over the top of my head, bid my worker friends adieu, and headed over here to Rocheblave.
The Sculptor has gotten so disgusted by lack of local worker response on her house, that she has enlisted friends from New York to do some work for her. They drove down last week
and have been working every day since. When I drove up I saw the man getting tools out of his truck. He waved, apparently not one to judge by appearances (so what if that scruffy looking, long-haired bean pole across the street is wearing an irregularly red polka-dotted t-shirt on top of his head.) I'm pretty sure I don't have any hydrogen peroxide inside the house so I called out and asked him if he did.
When I got closer he said, oh, what happened, with appropriate but not exaggerated concern. Pretty obviously, he has seen Carrie too, and I wasn't really it.
His wife, who has experience doctoring skinny impoverished people in Africa, came out with a chair and made me sit my skinny ass down and asked me was I feeling dizzy or faint, and I said, not really. She poured a river of hydrogen peroxide onto my cut and dabbed at it with cotton balls and then squirted some Neosporin onto my head and put a gauze pad on it and then wrapped it with that really cool stuff you use to wrap horse ankles. What? Oh, purple of course.
I took two Tylenols, got some sushi delivered by my friend Laureen, and I feel well enough to go back to work, except that I'm afraid to because the Mexicans will laugh at me with my purple Aunt Jemima head. And they laugh in Spanish, which I don't fully understand.
- jimlouis 6-05-2006 9:51 pm
Dios mio, el vendaje púrpura se parece ridículo. Pero ... es el color municipal del Nuevo Orleans.
Golpéelo otra vez, y quizás él conseguirá un vendaje de oro.
My God, the bandage purple looks like ridiculous. But... it is the municipal color of the New Orleans.
Strike him again, and perhaps he will obtain a gold bandage.
- mark 6-05-2006 10:31 pm [1 comment]
Good entry. I got a laugh out of this one. A laugh in English, that is.
- Lorina (guest) 6-06-2006 12:30 am [add a comment]
mi tambien
- mb 6-06-2006 3:09 am [add a comment]
Jim Louis, please e-mail me at dangerblond@dxxjduyt.com Very important. Thanks. (This isn't spam)
- dangerblond 6-07-2006 6:45 am [add a comment]
Can you get asbestosis of the brain? I smell a lawsuit.
- blagueur 6-07-2006 8:18 am [add a comment]
I think it should be obvious that I already have asbestosis of the brain, but I was wearing a baseball cap when the shingle hit me, so no actual direct asbestos contact. I don't have the heart for lawsuits. I emailed you, dangerblond.
- jimlouis 6-07-2006 9:16 pm [add a comment]
Reminds me of the time when, at the age of 7, my friends and I were trying to knock apples out of a tree with an airborn hammer... Come to think of it, so does Bill's porch removal story.
I recieved 6 stitches.
- steve 6-08-2006 3:44 pm [add a comment]