:: Ruminations of a workin' man ::

Tuesday, February 10, 2004

Sorry for not posting anything so far today. I was exceptionally busy, and didn't really have much to say besides, but I'm not going to let that deter me. They say to write about what you know, so I thought I'd recap my day for everyone. Ok? Ready, go!

Today passed very quickly as there was much to be done. Some people think this is the idle season, but it's not - a lot of sh!t goes down this time of year.

First, Manuel asked if I could help dig that new trench in which the caissons for the new sorting facility will eventually be placed. Technically, it's not my job, but Manny caught me pilfering half a gram of product last month so he's been asking me for little favors here and there to keep him quiet. He knows I know he's railing Peter's wife, so he can't really ask for much more. At least it's winter, so I didn't get heat stroke like last time.

After a couple hours of digging, Xavier stopped by and told me I had a customer. I put my suit back on and headed inside the villa. By this point, I was a little dehydrated, and that pissed me off. I'm head of sales around here - how am I supposed to be at the top of my game closing deals if I have a freaking migraine? Whatever, no biggie. I sold 200 kilos to those Russian boys back in November while I was hungover, wigging out on cheap American crank, in the middle of the bloodiest gang war in recent memory after staying up 72 hours straight hosting one of my trademark coke orgies to "blow" off a little steam. And I got them to pay with no bills larger than a twenty. Nothing but net (income!).

So I walk into the conference room and here are these two dweebs wearing masks like they're R. Kelly or something (did you see the Grammys? It's a special kind of feeling I get knowing half the audience is sky-high partly thanks to me!) and I ask "Dude, what gives?" and they're like "anonymity is sacrosanct in this business", and I'm all "WTF?" and they're all "Yeah, we came here to place an order, hold the super-size Haterade." Then I notice homeslice on the left has this little mole under his chin and I start thinking that it looks familiar. I give them our standard shpeal about bulk discounts and how we've been ranked #1 in customer satisfaction according to J.D. Power and Associates the last four years running while I try to think of where I've seen that mole before. Finally I remember that this guy is the "Jack of Diamonds" in our "52 most dangerous undercover D.E.A. agents" deck of playing cards that Dieter got last summer, which we've been using to play Asshole when we pre-party for Wednesday-night karaoke. I excuse myself and hand things off to Sergio, who told me later that Mr. Jack o'Diamonds begged like a total wuss before Sergio stuck him in the decompression chamber. Something about having two little daughters. Hey, retard, should have thought about that before you messed with the past three Wednesdays' President. Later busters!

So by now I've missed lunch having to deal with this nonsense and I'm starting to get one of those nosebleeds that won't quit, so needless to say any satisfaction I had from nailing those narcs is quickly going out the window. I head over to the commissary, grab some caviar and plantains, and go back to my office to relax a little. While I'm browsing the web scrounging for the latest Fashion Week gossip, I get this IM from Esmeralda (whom you'll remember from the pics I posted from New Year's - she was "Crazy" Ivan's date):

EzzyOzborn: hey you!
JoeBlow865: ;)
EzzyOzborn: never guess who got pinched!
JoeBlow865: that fine backside of yours? rarf!
EzzyOzborn: omg, lol!!!
EzzyOzborn: :)
EzzyOzborn: no, Ivan!

At this point, I'm totally psyched because I've been sweatin' Esmeralda for years but Ivan is one stone-cold killer and I saw what he did to Julio just for asking her out and there's no way I'm running the risk of scarring up this pretty face of mine just for some primo tail. But now Ivan's in cuffs and with the shazbot he's pulled over the years, his ass is as good as extradited.

JoeBlow865: (^o^)
JoeBlow865: :(
JoeBlow865: sux.
EzzyOzborn: whatevs, I told him not to buy that ticket with his real name
JoeBlow865: yeah, rookie move
EzzyOzborn: so... whatcha doin later?

Damn boyeee!

JoeBlow865: oh, nothing. manny and I were going to head out in the fields and terrorize the peasants with our pistolas. the yoozhe.
EzzyOzborn: i was thinking about heading over to the cantina for happy-hour lines. want in?

Game, set, and match: me. So now I'm feeling like I just snorted a whole 8-ball by myself and I run over to my boy Chris' desk, who works in accounting down the hall, and C-money's like NO WAY but I take him back and show him the IM and the high-fives start flying. Then we spent the next hour watching that Quiznos ad (so awesome!) on repeat and taking shots of Jager. Needless to say, I needed a little siesta after that.

The rest of the afternoon was spent mostly in meetings with the Medellin boyz working out contracts for the rainy season. Except for this part where Jim almost got garroted it was hella boring.

Later losers, gotta go meet Ez! I'd ask you to wish me luck, but there's no contest - have you seen these guns (and I don't mean my AK's or my Glocks)? Someone's been making the most out of their cartel-sponsored gym membership!

Holla back if anyone wants to hit Encendido later (they still let you smoke downstairs!!!).

Posted by morland @ 08:42 PM

:: Comments ::

Ah, cavorting are we? I wish I could join you, but my puta brother Ramon drove is ATV right through the coca fields! I had Peligro crunch some numbers, and it translated to roughly $65,000 in lost product per quarter-mile, and the little bendejo practically finished Le Mans before Jorge and Rocco got ahold of him!

Que sera sera, eh? Anyway, I must withdraw. My prized racing steed, El Relampago, has died, and I must begin hollowing him out for shipment.

Posted by: Scott Ganz on February 15, 2004 02:40 PM

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