Send in a Boss From Hell!  It's time to tell yer story. Here's a few! Where's yers?

This one is akin to this one you posted sometime back

'Cept I'm now a 24 y.o. unemployed (student) person of what-not-sorts-things

I'm the youngest of five children.  The second eldest being the only girl, but don't F- with her, 'cause she's the meanest one of all.  When I was way young it wasn't uncommon for her to torture us by grabbing one foot and one hand and spinning us around in a cirlcle then letting go when our bodies were parrellel to the ground.

Once I got old enough to have a conscience, I was therefore old enough to work.  To say 'Pecking-Order' is to say an understatement.  Ma or Pa would say, "Biggest bro, do this," he'd tell sis, she'd tell mid-bro, to med-low bro, to me.  Add to this that my Pa is a slob.  My parents own two (very cheap) houses, and he was living at one 'cause it was closer to work (this bit is when I'm about 20ish).  I came there to help clean up and A.)  It took me about ten hours a day for three days to even start to make a difference and B.) I got fleas from sleeping there over the weekend, if you've never had fleas be happy, it's like having 10,000 mosquito bites at the same time, only the bumps are smaller.

Now all us kids had to deal with slob dad, but here is the only moment in history when we found common ground and worked together for the solidarity of us all.

My parent's bedroom was upstairs and most of the kids bedrooms' were downstairs, but during the day all of us could be found crowded around the Atari playing tank or Astroid or what-not.  So my parents decided to put in an in-door door-bell.  read that last sentence again...AN INDOOR FREAG'IN DOORBELL.  One buzz meant child 1, 2 buzzes meant child 2, all the way down to 5 buzzes meant me.  And this house was and OOLLLLLDDDD school country general store...meaning 12 foot ceilings.

Finally, after near a year of this 'not even calling our names' B-S-, we did some wicked pyramid move and were finally able to climb up to the buzzer (at the top of said 12 foot ceiling) and clipped the damn wires.  Hence freeing us all from the boss that won't even say your name...YOU WERE A NUMBER.

Still to this day, being the youngest, when I go home most of what I do besides hanging out with budd-ays (had to get in at least one), is cleaning the house.  But ground has been made, my slob pa now knows how to cook ON A STOVE, and HOW TO VACUMM.  He never did either of those things when I was growing up, there could be a strainer full of cooked pasta in the sink, and a jar of Prego (or what-not) sitting right next to it in the kitchen.  I'd walk into the living room with a (magical) bowl o' pasta and he'd ask me how I'd made it, when he knew damn well that there were cooked noodles and jar 'o sauce...the adding 2 and 2 to actually get 4 was the 'tricky' part (lazy part) for him.

Enough of this rant, the BFH story I refered to is more cool 'cause it's from some young chick, but the bit about the in-door door-bell bit I don't think you're ever gonna hear from anyones else (unless their pa and ma are the same as mine).

please use this name

Chuck of the Hill People
(reference to an old SNL skit)

from Illinois, the land of corn and piggies, and cows, and soy-beans, and....aww heck...there's NOTHING here


Send in a Boss From Hell!  It's time to tell yer story. Here's a few! Where's yers?

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