SightsnBytes (Ted White)

September 17, 2014

Cajun Dogs and the BBQ Fire

Filed under: It's True, I promise ya — Sightsnbytes @ 1:53 pm

Just finished helping out at the College BBQ. Its a yearly thing where the staff and administration offer free hotdogs, burgers and pop to the students. The lineup seemed to last forever as hungry students stood waiting for their free lunch. The thing with kids. Free and food are always guaranteed to bring a crowd!

We had a BBQ as a fundraiser when I was in college. Each class had to come up with some way to make money to donate to a worthy cause. Our town practically flooding away was a great and easy choice, and selling Hots and Hams was even easier. When other classes were planning elaborate methods of fundraising, all we had to do was BBQ wieners and burgers. Sounds simple, right?

The first thing we had to do was to canvass stores looking for donations; mainly wieners, burgers and buns. And pop. We did pretty well, I must say. We didn’t have to buy anything. All we had to do was find a BBQ.

When we exhausted all possibilities of having someone donate a BBQ, I chose to use mine. It was nothing fancy, but it was trustworthy and always delivered. Actually, that was the problem…delivery.

I lived a half an hour from our BBQ site, so we had to find some way transport my main source of summer cooking to the front of the shopping mall. One of the students in our group offered his pickup truck.

It took both of us to load the ‘Q on the truck, but he insisted on fastening it. He argued that he was a Ranger and knew all sorts of rope tying methods. So I let him. Big Mistake!

He was also driving, and he drove like a bat out of hell. I was too scared to look back, but should have. When he hit one turn doing well above the speed limit, something flew out of the back of the truck and came within inches of an oncoming car. The driver pulled over and began cussing at us.

Paul pulled over as well, and soon joined the cursing guy. The both of them stood cursing at each other. I am not sure whether Paul even knew what he was angry about, but being the number one shit disturber in class, he was gung ho and ready for a fight.

When I got him calmed down enough to get back in the truck, I discovered what object had almost hit the guy’s car. It was our BBQ. Paul only fastened one end of rope to one side of the ‘Q, and when he made the turn, the entire thing swung out of the truck and then bungeed back into the box of the truck.

Unfortunately it was not that simple. Most of the thing was smashed to ribbons, including the burner. Luckily we removed the propane tank before leaving the house, or the damages would have been much worst!

When we finally got to the site of the cooking, we unloaded what was left of Ole Faithful and carried the thing to the curb. The wheels were no more, probably sitting in the back seat of that guy’s car!

I turned on the gas and lit the thing. At first, we were surprised at how well the flame under the burner turned that perfect hue of blue and yellow. We loaded the grill with wieners and burgers. The stuff was selling like hotcakes when suddenly a loud “WHOOF” came from the ‘Q.

The flame went out and we were left with several half cooked hot dogs. I fired the thing up again, this time we didn’t have the pretty blue flame. What we did have was a flame thrower mounted on a BBQ frame. Our wieners cooked quickly, well actually they burned quickly. Only thing was, we were only half way through the allotted time frame and had no earnings to show.

Just then, a large tour bus with students from a small community outside town pulled up next to us. “Anything ready? Got a bus load of hungry kids!” the driver said.

When everyone was ready to give up, I came up with an idea.

“CAJUN DOGS, GET YOUR CAJUN DOGS” I hollered.

When everyone was buckled over with laughter, I was at the table handing out hot dogs to the kids. I sold everything we had and we had to scorch more just to keep up. The flame from the grill reaching abnormal heights only managed to attract more customers, and we worked like dogs to keep up.

One kid hollered “Wow! Cajun Dogs. I heard of them but never tried them!”

He encouraged his friends to try them, and for some weird reason, the badly burned wieners sold quickly. He was even more amazed when I introduced him to a new menu favorite…Cajun Burgers. We burned everything we had and at the end of the day, we had reached our goal of $1500, plus made enough money to replace my broken ‘Q.

Who would have guessed how popular Cajun food was in Newfoundland?

 

insomnia: Parts I and II

Filed under: It's True, I promise ya — Sightsnbytes @ 10:02 am

For the second night in a row, I lay awake. Monday night I stared at a small lump of plaster that rested in the corner of the bedroom ceiling. I actually thought about fixing it, until I glanced at the clock and discovered that it was 2 a.m.

The wife probably wouldn’t be impressed to find me standing at the edge of the bed, plaster trowel in hand, fixing the lump.

So I simply watched it; possibly hoping that by staring at the lump, it would go away. It didn’t.

I tried turning on the television. Nothing on, of course. I tuned into Netflix and found a rerun of CSI Miami. Why does that guy wear sunglasses all the time? And why is it cool when he takes them off and offers his weekly cliche?

I watched other shows as well. Why was it that I chose to tune into an old Twilight Zone episode? When I finally managed to drift off, the episode that I watched became a reality for me. This was the one where the man sold his soul to the devil in return for eternal life, only to murder his wife and be sentenced to life in prison. Talk about irony. Anyway, in my dream, I was his cell mate. Only me!

Its amazing how the hours magically appear on the digital clock. At 4:30 a.m., I found myself amazed at how the ‘0’ turns to a ‘1’ and then to a ‘2’. Its easy to amaze me that late at night. I think I watched every hour change to the next.

There are only so many ways to toss and turn. Lie next to the wife, maybe cuddle her, feels good, but soon I have an ache in my side, so I turn over, and over, and over and over. I almost wore a hole in the sheets from tossing and turning. All this while trying not to wake her. She has work in the morning. So do I.

The time between 5 am and 6:30, my wake up time takes forever to pass. So I get up, eat breakfast, and sit on the comfy chair for awhile….and fall asleep. Since the alarm clock is in the bedroom, I don’t hear it. I am half deaf, and both my hearing aids are in the bedroom, tucked safely away in their little box so that dog doesn’t get them again. (another story for another time, but a funny story that I will have to tell, maybe on my next sleepless night)

All of a sudden my son awakes me. “What are you doing sleeping here? How come you didn’t go to work today?” he asks.

“OMG” I holler. I finally fell asleep, and slept until 7. It will be a quick breakfast, possibly on the way to work, and a coffee. I need Coffee NOW!

On the drive to work I chug down a cup of my favorite Tassimo coffee, Nabob Breakfast, except this was my breakfast! I see two moose on the side of the road. You have to remember, this is Newfoundland, and moose hunting season just opened! Poor thing will likely be cooking on someone’s bbq by the weekend!

When I get to work, I dive into another coffee, and one more before lunch. By now I am bouncing off the walls, but I do manage to get a ton of work done, despite my shakes.

The ride home was quick, thanks to all the caffeine, and because I never slept the night, I choose to get to bed early. Big mistake. All that caffeine. Insomnia again. Another night of no sleep! This morning, the one thing that made my day was checking out my favorite bloggers on WordPress, and seeing a nice post by one of my favorite writers on the web. Thanks Archon, I really appreciate the fact that you remembered my birthday. I didn’t!

 

 

September 16, 2014

Pine Beer and Bikers from Michigan

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sightsnbytes @ 10:48 am

Sightsnbytes:

this story never gets old…just funnier

Originally posted on SightsnBytes (Ted White):

a few years ago, my friends and I found out what Americans were made of. This story began in my basement, and with our home made beer recipe. This was the summer that the beer companies all went on strike, therefore, no beer on the island except some Old Milwaukee crap imported from the states, not the strong, hardy beer we Newfoundlanders are used to drinking.

On this particular weekend, we decided to make our own beer. All the stores were closed, and we needed a brewing bucket. My friend Dwayne said that his mom worked at a local school, and she should have plenty of plastic 5 gallon buckets lying around. When he showed up at the house, he had a white plastic bucket under his arm. The bucket’s label read “5 Gallons of Pine Sol.”

Before we had a chance to ask Dwayne if he had cleaned the…

View original 853 more words

September 15, 2014

Claustrophobic? Not me!

Filed under: It's True, I promise ya — Sightsnbytes @ 1:23 pm

I have this fear of small, confined places. Most people simply accept this as part of a phobia that they were either born with, or developed over time. I know exactly where my fear of confined places comes from.

Back when I was a kid, we used to camp a lot. Every weekend during summer vacation, my parents would pack up mostly everything we had, our trusty canvas tent, and my little brother, and head for the hills.

One weekend we camped at a local park. The park featured a beautiful beach and very well groomed campsites. Dad set up the tent and my brother and I went on to the beach. The entire weekend was going great, and eventually, Sunday came. Sunday was the day in which we always headed home. God knows we couldn’t miss church (notice the pun).

Of course, being kids, we couldn’t just go home. We were hungry, we forgot something at the beach, we didn’t say good-bye to our friends, and naturally, I had to go to the bathroom. Poor mom and dad, possibly dizzy from all the complaints, I doubt they heard me tell them that I had to use the bathroom!

So off I went. You know parks, especially back in the 70’s in Newfoundland. Bathrooms didn’t exist in parks back then. OUTHOUSES did!  A wooden building covering a hole in the ground.

I was bursting to use the bathroom. Couldn’t hold it a second longer. I spotted the old outhouse hiding behind a spruce tree and went in. The stink hit me almost immediately. To make matters worst, the door swung shut behind me, the latch on the outside clicked down. I didn’t know the extent until I finished doing my duty.

The latch clicked down. I was locked in an outhouse. A very stinky outhouse that was built over a shithole in the ground. the only ventilation was a tiny hole above the door and the hole beneath the toilet seat. There was no flush handle, you simply crapped in the hole and ran for your life. Only I couldn’t run. I was barred in!

I had to pick the only outhouse that was hidden by a large tree. This little cabin of torture was completely hidden to anyone who either didn’t know it was there or like me, needed to crap so badly that it seemed to appear out of nowhere.

What to do, What to do! I tried running my shoulder into the door, you know, the way they do it on Cop shows on TV! My skinny shoulders were no match for the rugged old spruce boards that adorned the outhouse. Holding my breath probably didn’t help. But the stink. Crap from the hundreds  thousands (I don’t know how many people crapped there, but it was all there beneath the seat next to me).

I cried out but to no avail. In hell, nobody can hear you scream. I prayed, but again nothing! Where was my dad? Shouldn’t he be worried? I never brought a watch, so no telling how long I was in the outhouse. It felt like an eternity. I couldn’t even put toilet paper over my nose. I used most of the roll to cover the toilet seat and the rest I dropped in the hole by accident. I almost died from the smell.

What seemed like an eternity later, I could hear hollers in the distance. It was my dad, he came looking for me. There were a few other outhouses around the park, and I think he tried every one. That was, of course after he checked the entire beach and every campsite in the park. Finally, he found the one in which I was trapped.

By the time dad made it to the hell hole I was barred in, My lungs were sore from me holding my breath. When he clicked open the latch, the door opened and I fell out. I bawled my eyes out while my dad scolded me for not telling him where I was going. But I did. He just didn’t hear me with all the other crap I was going on with. Of course a kid doesn’t understand that.

On the ride home, I found it difficult to sit in the car. I held my head out the window like a retriever, opening my mouth and catching every breath of fresh air (and flies) that I could.

Ever since that day, I cannot stand it in closed spaces. They say that the only way to overcome your fears is to confront them, but there is no way that I plan to enter another outhouse and have the door closed on me! I rather die.

Who was that jerk

Filed under: It's True, I promise ya — Sightsnbytes @ 12:33 pm

I went to a party the other day,a reunion of sorts. This one missus was talking about this guy who used to get drunk a lot. She said that he was the laughing stock of every party. Not only was he a bad drunk, but he was clumsy. What a combination. Others at the party added more funny antics this guy did.

Some guy said that the funniest thing he had seen was the time this drunken guy was dancing at the bar. He said the guy actually tried to jump from one stage onto the other and somehow ended up jammed between the two stages. There he lay, bloodied and bruised, but being the life (or fool) of the party, he chose to get up and dance again (despite his injuries that he couldn’t feel thanks to the flask of Whiskey he drank prior to dancing). What a nutcase! Gave everyone a good laugh though.

Another person mentioned that he seen the drunk guy once as well. ‘Bob’, we call call this story teller, said that the drunk guy planned on joining the rest of the crowd and going to the bar. Apparently the drunk was too intoxicated to tie his own shoes. Everyone sat and laughed while the poor fool tried to tie his shoes without falling over. When one member of the crowd couldn’t stand laughing any more, she got down and actually tied his shoes for him. Bob went on to say that even though his shoes were tied, he later fell over the stairs and had to stay home anyway.

Someone added that the drunk guy used to wander through the club, sometimes getting mouthy and get himself into trouble. They said that they hated when he got like this because they often worried that he would get himself (or someone else) killed.

What a jerk I thought. Then I realized something. They were talking about me. Me in the 90’s! Me who was so depressed and hell bent on self destruction that I would do anything just to make someone laugh, someone notice me.

The worst part is that I don’t recognize any of those people, nor do I remember any of those stories actually happening to me. Thank heavens!

Every day I thank God that I saw the light (so to speak), and that my life is never again fueled by alcohol and self doubt. No wonder I hate parties!

I really love where I am today, but sometimes I wonder how I did get here. I was not an alcoholic, but I was certainly on my way!

In fact, at the time I would have never imagined my life today. A good job, a loving wife and son, and a community of people who respect me.

 

September 12, 2014

things in the fridge

Filed under: Rants and Roars — Sightsnbytes @ 12:04 pm

Yesterday was garbage day, and like any other Thursday, I had to clean out the fridge before taking the garbage to the curb. Since this is the first full week of school for our kid, the wife went and bought all sorts of new stuff for the little guy’s lunch. Of course the one big mistake she made was bringing him shopping. You know that he wanted everything that came in nifty packaging, especially if it tied in with a popular movie or tv show.

So now the fridge is filled with all the things he HAD to have, tried, and didn’t like. Packages of yogurt that I knew he wouldn’t like, but since The Amazing Spiderman adorns the packaging, it would taste different than other yogurt, everyone knows that. Wrong. Eight packages in the original package, six left. He actually tried the first one and threw it out, and then for some reason figured that two days later the stuff would improve and tried it again. He should have listened to his Spider Senses.

The package of green turkey roll is definitely heading for the trash. Those new blister packs are a pain once they are opened, but as I have often suggested (you have to suggest things to 12 year old’s those days apparently), put the thing in a Tupperware container once you open them. Nobody listens. Another $7 wasted.

“The orange juice has lumps in it!” was his reaction when I asked why a practically full container of orange juice (Low Pulp) was left without the cover on it and now has gone bad. They weren’t lumps, just pulp.

He doesn’t like pulp…figured they were pieces of wood or something. Oh the Teens are coming up….good-bye hair.

The apples are all gone, save for one in the bin. He is all brown, especially where the bite was taken out. Guess that one is gone too. I don’t need the CSI team to discover who took the bite out of that one. My son again. “Had to find a sweet one” he says.

Speaking of Tupperware, there is one in the very back of the fridge. Upon opening it and nearly hitting the floor from the stink, I discovered that it was once a half can of beans and wieners, another of my son’s quick snacks he brings for school lunches. He must be a big hit with the ladies….This one must have missed last week’s refrigerator scan, because it appears that hair is growing from a few of the beans. Maybe it missed a few fridge scans. Maybe I could send the stuff to my Uncle Harold…he has started losing his hair as of late. Maybe a few of those hairy beans would do the trick!

Once all the spoiled and outdated things were out of the fridge, the thing was almost empty. My wife offered to take son and buy groceries this evening. NOOOOoooo!

Tomorrow I have to attack the deep freeze! Stay tuned

 

 

 

September 10, 2014

It’s all in the wording

Filed under: Rants and Roars — Sightsnbytes @ 3:35 pm

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/newfoundland-labrador/moose-hits-rcmp-cruiser-near-deer-lake-1.2762035

Its funny how things work out sometimes. The above story fully explains my assumption. “Moose hits RCMP cruiser near Deer Lake”. If it was anyone other than a law enforcement officer in the collision, the article would have been titled “Driver hits moose”, but when a member of the RCMP hits a moose, it’s the moose who actually hit them.

I can see it now. The driver of the squad car sitting innocently in his car (probably scoffing down on a donut from Tim’s) on the side of the road when suddenly a moose appears out of nowhere, going at least 111 km/h and BANG! the moose hits the poor cop car dead on. The moose is pronounced dead at the scene (if he wasn’t he would have been charged with dangerous running or running without a moose license)

The article goes on to explain that the moose did in fact hit the car (their story). The officer was taken to the hospital to treat his injuries. The moose carcass was later removed. No word on whether emergency first aid was performed on the large deer.

I just bet the moose was high on sweet grass at the time and didn’t see the poor cop car. GEEZE Give me a break!

September 9, 2014

My Fab Five

Filed under: I've Noticed... — Sightsnbytes @ 9:41 pm

This is my fab five. Hey, if  cell phone providers get to have fab fives, why can’t I? Here are my favorite five posts in no particular order. Give em a read and let me know what you think.

  1. While working away in the city, I got lonesome for home. This inspired me to write about my life before the busy streets and honking horns, and back to a simpler time. The story was entitled A Pot of Tea. When I wrote this story, I wanted to bring the reader deep into the woods with me. I worked especially hard to bring the reader all the sounds and smells of the outdoors. I hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. By the way, I think it just may have brought a tear to my dad’s eye when he read it.
  2. In an attempt to write a nice Christmas story for my son, I came up with this jewel. The entire story came to me on my way to work one day. When I arrived, I jumped to the keypad and wrote the story from beginning to end in one sitting. I tried to include a bit of my own heritage in the story. My ancestors were French-Indians who were also known as the Mi’Kmaq. The title characters were Mi’Kmaq as well. The story is titled Footprints in the Snow.
  3. They say that part of the charm of a true Newfoundlander is the ability to laugh at ourselves. Some people around here make it all too easy. I wrote a collection of funny stories that happened to me over the years. In an attempt to draw more readers, I sneakily used the title ‘Boobs’. I bet everyone who showed up thought I was talking about…You Know…!
  4. For some weird reason, the story I wrote about Marbles drew the most attention from readers. I am not sure whether it was the picture of marbles that drew readers, curiosity of the game of marbles, or fluke. Whatever the reason,I appreciated the attention. Give it a read.
  5. Maybe I read too many Stephen King novels. Whatever the case, this little nugget came to me while I was asleep. Maybe it was a nightmare. I write my best stuff while sleeping, and that night I had a baloney and mustard sandwich before bed. The story is called The Dark Shadow on Donnely Lane. Hope it doesn’t keep you up at night.

Well that’s it for now.  Leave comments, they are all appreciated.

September 5, 2014

Running through the buttercups

Filed under: I promise ya,It's True,Poetry and other deep thoughts — Sightsnbytes @ 9:01 am

Back before all the houses

and all the new people

there was a large open field

where we used to run

and play

She would arrive barefoot

my shoes would soon go

and we would run through the buttercups

once I got stung

by a bumblebee

it’s nothing, you see

she said

for what I thought was pain

was nothing compared to what she had seen

and felt

in her short life

she was five

and I was six

and we ran though the buttercups

until our feet were yellow

my mom would laugh

and help me clean my feet

she would be punished

as if it were a crime

I wouldn’t see her for days

but when she came back

we would run through the buttercups

 

August 27, 2014

back again

Filed under: It's True, I promise ya — Sightsnbytes @ 9:24 pm

While wasting time on Facebook the other day, I seen this post that claimed to predict the career a particular person was meant to do, just by answering a few easy questions. I was bored. Hell, I doubted the claim that much that I actually took the damn test. Turns out I was meant to be a writer. Go figure! No Really, that’s what the test determined. Go ahead, take it for yourself. Answer the questions as truthfully as you can, even if you may end up sounding like a true nerd. the link is http://bitecharge.com/play/career/h6

I did a similar test once, as part of some cockamamie employment program our provincial government invented in order to get people off Unemployment Insurance (UIC). The test determined that I would be best fitted to work as a crop duster. I took the damn test three times and each time I got the same answer. Trouble is, I have a fear of both heights and crop dusters.

When I  asked others in the room  what their career was, they all told me the same thing…Crop Dusters. Quite the program our government wasted our tax dollars on. By the way, we don’t have any crop dusters on the entire island.

Talking about careers, mine changed once again. When I look at all the things  I have worked at in my half a century here on earth, it is kind of scary. I started out working in a freezer truck at the age of sixteen. I would dress for the  frigid temperatures, entering the freezer at six in the morning, adorned in my one piece snowmobile suit, and at six in the evening,  my freezing fingers would crank the door handle to leave, letting out a gust of icy cold air into the hot July weather. Talk about looking nerdy….a one piece snowmobile suit while everyone else wore tank tops and shorts (well at least all the hot girls wore that.)

My next position was that of a logger. There were some hot July days where I actually wished to be back in the freezer truck, processing salt fish and other cold things. That one lasted for some twenty years. Eat your heart out Paul Bunyan!

When my back could no longer take the abuse that carrying heavy logs on my skinny shoulders any longer, I quit and went back to school. I did an information Technology program. My mind hurt even more than my back at this time, but as I struggled to keep up with the spring chickens who knew more about technology in their nineteen years on the planet than I managed to muster up, I accomplished my goal.

Seeing that I chose to remain on the island, where there was no work yet for IT (people here had no concept of what IT was in 1998), I took a job at a Radio Shack store, where I used my IT skills to sell and service computer for shitty dollars.

Things got better when I actually quit that position and returned to school once again. I was able to hit a great job afterward where I got to work with terrific people such as KJ. As good jobs go, I was fortunate to be able to help so many with this job. I hated to leave, but seeing how the city was such an expensive place to live, and my missus was able to obtain work back home on the coast, we packed our bags and headed home.

Home to the west coast where work was not plenty full and I was forced to take a job at a gas station. At first I hated it, but it grew on  me. I was able to put a little bit of myself into  the position, such as playing practical jokes on staff members had generally having a laugh working with the public. In the end, I was quite happy with this job.

Until yesterday. That was the day that I got the call. A chance to return to a position that I truly loved, and one that utilized some of the knowledge I had gained through the IT training.  That’s right, I get to work with KJ again. Well not directly, actually from  a campus across the island from her, but generally the same job that she is doing. I will be good to get reacquainted with her again.

You should never give up if you are not happy with your life. To those who truly believe in themselves, good things happen. Now if I can only get used to the 45 minute commute to and from work….sure beats crop dusting

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