Sunday, June 24, 2007

Had to share this...

An excerpt from an IM conversation with a friend, just moments ago (hot off the... er.... pixels... people!) when he informed me that this blog showed up on Google... I had to see for myself, of course.

Smartass Friend: you're on google
Farmgirl: I am?
FG: *blink blink*
SF: you are!
SF: (laughing face)
SF: "Holly's Hystrionics" is the first one that came up
FG: oh wait yeah blogger is a google thing.
SF: sidesaddle rodeo is on there too
SF: well, yeah
FG: she linked to me and she's a more popular blogger than i am
SF: ahhh, wait, Holly is?
FG: yeah
SF: oh, okay
FG: what did you search google for?
FG: that you found me?
SF: yeah
SF: I put you into my drop-down google search bar in Firefox, to get the link over
FG: no, i mean what search?
SF: yeah, it was in google
FG: *rubs forehead* whos on first?
SF: What? wait, no, he's on second..

Really folks. I gotta stop putting so many multi-syllable words into the stories, or pretty soon I'm going to be going through the rest of my interactions with a dazed drooling expression on my face, because I'll have used all of my intelligent vocabulary here.

Oy

I mentioned in my post last night that my job is a never ending series of near-misses. Someone upstairs heard me and made sure that today fit the bill.

Two separate vehicles that we called in to the Highway Patrol, one truck break down in the middle of the site, in the middle of the traffic line, and a couple of bright ones that either didn't see, or couldn't comprehend the bright frickin orange sign on the back of the Silver Streak proclaiming "Pilot Car
Follow Me"

I mean COME ON people.

Number one... there IS a no passing sign in the long series of BLINDINGLY OBVIOUS signs that lead up to the flagger that stopped you. This does not mean that its "ok" to pass after the pilot car starts leading traffic through. And guess what... when you're stuck between a steep ditch and a twelve inch drop you don't have much choice but to slow down when the pilot car goes twenty passing the nearest flaggers, thus allowing them a good look at your license plate. Hope you enjoyed that ticket, Mr. Impatient.

Number two... When the flagger tells you flat out that he cannot allow you to enter the construction zone without the pilot car, since you are neither a local, construction personnel, or law enforcement/emergency response personnel, that does NOT mean to turn around and back track to the nearest county road, go around the flagger, and drive eighty until you catch up with the pilot line, six miles on. It DOES mean that your license plate number will be dutifully written down, along with your vehicle description, your description, and the exact nature of the offense in a written statement. Right after your plate number is called into the highway patrol, that is. And probably while you're being told by the nice policeman that since dispatch received a call and the reporting parties have agreed to provide written statements as to the nature of your offense, and your estimated eighty plus mile an hour speed in a forty five mile an hour zone, it DOES mean that you're going to get one honking big traffic citation. And possibly a spanking.

Oh, and acting nonchalant as you leave the site does you no good at all. Ever heard of radios?

I'm gonna make a small statement to anyone who drives through ANY construction zone. Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT mess with Traffic Control.

We take our job seriously. That job is safety. If you mess with us, we WILL shove our steel toes where the sun don't shine, even if we have to do it with a phone call.

You've heard the phrase "just do what I tell you and no one gets hurt" ?

Thats our motto, especially the no one gets hurt part.

Not that I'm not all for the process of natural selection... just don't do it in my zone.

I don't want to do the paperwork.

Its a bad sign...

When you work with your father, and he starts quoting your blog at you, at work, over the radio.

Or at least I *think* it is... I'm not sure yet. I'll have to tell a few funnies on him, at some point...