Wednesday, August 25, 2010


We recently moved, and are finally done unpacking. And allay'all know what happens when you unpack after a move: you wind up with a shitload of boxes. Living in such a progressive (lol) city, recycling is much more prevalent than it was in Gainesville. Not sure why, and don't care.

So rather than trying to sneak the boxes into the huge garbage bin, we recycled them. And per our landlord's directions, this entailed taking them out to the curb the night before pick-up, stacking them up nice and neat, and tying them up with twine. Simple enough, right?

Since we had so many boxes, and would ultimately wind up with multiple stacks of them, he also suggested giving the recyclers a hand when they come to pick them up. No problem. I didn't get up early or anything, but as I laid in bed, I thought I heard big recycling trucks coming by. Much to my chagrin, when I peeked out the window at the curb around, 10:30, they were still there. By the time they finally managed to come, at like 12:15, I was actually on my way out the door to the gym.

Perfect timing!

Sure enough, there was a dude tossing boxes into his huge recycling truck. Being the all around awesome dude I am, I ran over and offered the guy a hand.

Approaching, and seeing the disgruntled look on his face, I assumed he was just holding in some explosive diarrhea. The ire I would soon detect in his voice told me it was something more. Something wetter, squishier, and warmer. But like, the angry kind of wet, squishy, and warm.

"Hey, let me give you a hand with that", I offered.

"NO!", he yelled, not even looking up at me. Just kept tossing boxes into the truck.

Noticing how hard he was scowling, instead of asking if scowling so hard hurts his forehead, I asked if I prepared the cardboard wrong...and was immediately greeted with a "YES!"

"I'm really sorry, here let me help", as I reached for a stack of boxes. Still not man enough to look at the person he was yelling at, he growled, "NO!".

"Cool man, see ya, peace", I chuckled back to him, as I walked to my car, PUMPED as FUCK for the gym. Haha, I think I even gave him the standard "see ya later" peace sign.

Seeing how angry this dickhead got, over something so stupid, really got me PUMPED UP. And it should PUMP YOU UP too. Totally had a ROFL filled drive to the gym, and then a great workout.

Think about that the next time you're not feelin' the PUMP - there's somebody out there, yelling at somebody else (hopefully a kid), about something totally trivial. Somebody is out there, totally pissed off, ready to have a meltdown, and you're just sittin' there, totally chilled out. Not givin' a fo.

So what are you gonna do? Are you gonna sit there and cry about it? Probably, but I know what I'm gonna do - I'm gonna get SO PUMPED UP FROM RED BULLS AND THE CRAZY CARDBOARD RECYCLING GUY THAT I WON'T EVEN BE ABLE TO SEE. THAT'S HOW PUMPED I'M GONNA GET. BLIND PUMPED

***I'd like to dedicate this HDPU to the crazy cardboard recycling guy: I know you're out there, somewhere, getting pissed and freaking out. Peace, brother.

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