Callin’ It Like It Is, New Glasgow, NS (2026)

04/03/2026

Career Makers… Or How To Stop Being Completely Useless

Build the skills that build the future!

That’s what the ad says.

Sounds like you’re about to walk into this place,
and five minutes later you’re welding skyscrapers,
dating a nurse,
and driving a truck with a chrome bumper that blinds people at intersections.

Yeah…

No.

What actually happens is this.

You walk in there thinking,
“I’m about to become somebody.”

And the first thing they do is look at you like,
“Alright… what the f**k do you know?”

And you stand there…

Blinking.

Because the only thing you’ve successfully built in your life
is a sandwich and a bad reputation.

So they sit you down.

Hand you a pair of gloves.

Point at a piece of steel.

“Go ahead. Show us what you got.”

Now in your head, you’re a f**kin’ tradesman.

In reality?

You look like a confused idiot holding a power tool.

You fire that thing up…

Sparks start flying…

And suddenly you’re learning real fast that this ain’t YouTube.

There’s no pause button.

No rewind.

No guy in the comments saying,
“Hey man, you’re doing great.”

No…

There’s just some grumpy bastard behind you going,
“What in the f**k are you doing?”

And you panic.

Because now it’s not about learning.

It’s about survival.

You’re sweating.

You’re guessing.

You’re pretending like you understand what the hell he’s talking about.

“Yeah yeah… amperage… rods… I got it.”

You don’t got it.

Not even close.

Then comes the best part.

“On-the-job training.”

That’s where they throw you right into the fire
and watch you either figure it out…

Or completely s**t the bed.

There’s no gentle coaching.

There’s no participation trophy.

There’s just a crew of guys watching you like,
“Is this guy gonna make it… or is he gonna cost us all our sanity?”

And here’s where it gets real honest.

They can teach you the basics.

They can show you how it’s done.

But after that?

It’s all on you.

You either step up…

Or you become that guy.

You know the one.

The guy everybody avoids.

The guy nobody trusts with anything sharper than a f**kin’ pencil.

The guy that somehow turns a ten-minute job into a three-hour disaster.

And then blames the tools.

“It’s not me… it’s the equipment.”

No buddy…

It’s you.

So now you’re in it.

Trying to prove you belong.

Trying not to look like a complete idiot.

Trying to brown-nose just enough
so they don’t fire your ass before lunch.

“Hey boss, great weld.”

Shut up.

Just learn.

Because here’s the truth nobody puts in the ad.

They’ll open the door for you…

But you still gotta walk through it without tripping over your own bu****it.

You still gotta show up.

Pay attention.

Actually listen when someone who knows what they’re doing
is trying to save you from looking like an idiot.

Because if you don’t…

You won’t be building the future.

You’ll be right back where you started.

Picking up other people’s garbage,
wondering where the hell it all went wrong.

And the answer?

You didn’t listen.

That’s it.

That’s the whole f**kin’ secret.

~ And that is Callin’ it like it is!

04/02/2026

Congratulations… You’re Now Broke With Better Furniture

Happiness Is A 54” Colored TV
And A New Living Room Set

That’s what the ad says.

And you read that s**t like it’s a life plan.

You’re sitting there in your old chair that squeaks every time you breathe…

Watching a TV that weighs more than your f**kin’ car…

And you think,

“Yeah… this is what’s wrong with my life.”

Not your decisions.

Not your bank account.

Not the fact you’ve been eating noodles for three straight days…

No no.

It’s the TV.

That’s the problem.

So you march your ass into this place like a man on a mission.

Big smiles.

Bright lights.

Sales guy walks over like he’s about to change your life.

“Looking to upgrade?”

Buddy…

You have no idea.

Next thing you know, you’re sitting on a couch you can’t afford…

Watching a TV so big it makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something in life.

You’re nodding like,

“Yeah… this is me now.”

They hit you with the magic words.

“Don’t worry about the price.”

Oh perfect.

That’s exactly what a financially unstable person needs to hear.

“Easy monthly payments.”

That’s where they get you.

Because in your head you’re doing math like a complete idiot.

“Ah, that’s only… whatever the hell that is per month.”

Yeah.

For the next ten f**kin’ years.

Interest so high it feels like you’re renting your own living room.

But you don’t care.

Because you’re picturing it already.

You sitting there…

Feet up…

Big TV glowing…

Thinking you finally made it.

Meanwhile…

Real life kicks the door in.

Power bill shows up.

Groceries.

Gas.

Babysitter.

And now…

You’re sitting on your brand new couch…

Eating toast…

Watching a 54-inch reminder of your poor life choices.

Friends stop coming over.

Because you can’t afford to do s**t anymore.

“Hey, wanna go out?”

“No man… I gotta stay home and look at my furniture.”

Even your kids are like,

“Dad… can we eat?”

“Shhh… look at the picture quality.”

And the best part?

That sales guy?

He’s already onto the next poor bastard walking through the door.

“Looking to upgrade?”

Of course he is.

Because this isn’t about helping you.

This is about locking you into a lifestyle where you’re just broke…

But slightly more comfortable while it’s happening.

And you fall for it.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Because saving money is hard…

But signing your life away in monthly payments?

That’s easy as s**t.

So now here you are.

Strapped.

Stressed.

Sitting in a beautiful living room you don’t even enjoy…

Because you’re too busy worrying about how the hell you’re gonna pay for it.

But hey…

At least the TV’s nice.

~ And that is Callin’ it like it is!

04/01/2026

I Turned My Uncle Into a Tackle Box

My first time fishing in a boat.

You’d think that would be some peaceful, bonding moment.

You know… calm water, quiet conversation, maybe a couple fish, maybe a life lesson.

Yeah…

No.

What my uncle got was a front row seat to my natural ability to turn anything into a full-blown disaster.

This poor bastard takes me out to this old camp my grandfather built. We’re talking middle of f**kin’ nowhere. Forty-five minutes past the last house. If something goes wrong out here, you’re not calling for help…

You’re just part of the forest now.

We row out to the middle of the lake.

Everything’s calm.

Too calm.

That should’ve been the first warning.

Now nobody told me there’s a “proper way” to cast a line in a boat.

Hell, nobody really told me how to cast at all.

So I’m standing there like a f**kin’ professional in my own head.

I bring the rod back behind me…

Full confidence…

Like I’m about to launch this thing into another zip code.

WHIP.

All of a sudden—

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!”

Now I hear this high-pitched scream behind me.

And I’m thinking,
“What the f**k!, this rod makes some weird noises.”

So what do I do?

I whip it forward again.

Harder.

Because clearly the solution to a weird noise…

Is more force.

WHIP.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

Now I’m really laying into it.

I’m yanking the line.

Three… four times…

Trying to “unstick” whatever the hell I snagged.

And that’s when I turn around.

And there’s my uncle…

Standing there…

Eyes watering…

Face twisted…

Holding the line…

With a fishing lure jammed clean through his f**kin’ ear.

Not near it.

Not touching it.

Through it.

This man is now wearing a goddamn tackle box accessory like it’s fashion week in the woods.

Blood running down his neck.

Tears in his eyes.

And me sitting there like a complete idiot going,

“Ohhh… that’s what the noise was.”

Trying to apologize to a man who now has a fishing lure for an earring…

Is not a smooth conversation.

Especially when he looks like he’s deciding whether to forgive you…

Or drown you.

And I make it worse.

Because I look at him and go,

“Jesus… that must hurt.”

No s**t.

Brilliant observation.

We didn’t stay out there long.

He said he had a “headache.”

Yeah.

Funny how getting hooked like a f**kin’ trout will do that to a guy.

We rowed back in silence.

And I learned two important things that day:

Number one…

There is definitely a right way to cast a fishing line.

And number two…

If you don’t know what you’re doing…

Maybe don’t start by weaponizing it.

~ And that is Callin’ it like it is!

03/31/2026

WELDING & STUDYING

I Got No Time To Study I Have To Weld This Bike!

It’s June.

That magical time of year when every student suddenly realizes,
“Oh s**t… I might actually be stupid.”

You’ve got one final exam standing between you and freedom.

Geography.

Which, by the way, is just a fancy word for,
“Memorizing places you’ll probably never go because you’re too broke.”

I’m sitting there at the kitchen table,
book open,
trying to cram six months of not paying attention into about…
forty-five minutes.

Meanwhile, my brain is still stuck back in class,
staring at the cute blonde two rows ahead,
thinking,
“Yeah… I’m definitely gonna marry that girl someday.”

Didn’t learn a goddam thing about continents,
but I could tell you exactly how she tied her hair.

So I’m in panic mode.

Sweating.

Reading the same paragraph over and over.

Nothing is sticking.

It’s like my brain is rejecting education like it’s lactose intolerant.

Then…

BANG.

Door swings open.

Here comes my buddy.

Holding his bike like it just came back from war.

“Hey man, I need you to weld this.”

No.

No you don’t.

What you need to do…
is leave.

I’ve got a geography exam tomorrow,
and right now I’m failing countries, oceans, and basic human survival.

But this guy…

He parks himself.

Right there.

Doesn’t move.

Doesn’t blink.

Just sits and stares like a f**kin’ landlord waiting for rent.

“You gonna fix it or what?”

Now here’s the problem.

I know how to weld…

In the same way I know how to cook.

I’ve seen it done.

My father showed me once.

Which means I am now clearly a professional.

So I walk over to the welder like I’ve got this under control.

Did I check the settings?

No.

Did I change the rods?

Absolutely not.

Last time that welder was used,
it was chewing through steel thick enough to build a f**kin’ battleship.

But hey…

A bike frame?

Same thing, right?

I strike the rod…

And instantly it sounds like I just dropped bacon into a frying pan from hell.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Sparks are flying.

Smoke is rolling over my shoulder like I’m launching a rocket.

And I’m thinking,
“Wow… this looks aggressive.”

Then I look down…

And I’ve melted a big f**kin’ hole
straight through the frame.

Clean.

Gone.

Like it never existed.

Before I can even process that disaster…

The seat catches fire.

Now the bike is not broken.

It is being cremated.

My buddy goes from calm…

to “WHAT THE F**K ARE YOU DOING?!” in about half a second.

And here’s the beautiful part…

He’s still not leaving.

Now I owe him a bike.

So what do I do?

I take parts off mine.

Because at this point,
I’ve fully accepted that my life decisions have consequences.

An hour later…

He rides off…

on what is basically my bike now.

Big smile.

Happy as hell.

Probably thinking,
“This idiot just upgraded my entire summer.”

And I’m standing there…

Holding a geography book…

Covered in smoke…

With no bike…

And absolutely no idea what the f**k a peninsula is.

Next day?

I fail.

Hard.

Like “teacher looks at you with disappointment” fail.

So instead of riding around all summer,
having fun like a normal human being…

I’m sitting in school.

In July.

Sweating.

Learning about countries I’ll never see…

Because I don’t even have a bike anymore.

And that, right there…

was the day I learned two very important things.

One…

If someone is teaching you something,
you might wanna f**kin’ listen.

And two…

If your buddy shows up needing something welded…

You suddenly become real f**kin’ busy.

~ And that is Callin’ it like it is!

03/30/2026

The Day I Almost Gave Birth Instead of Her

I remember the day my son was born like it was yesterday. And I swear to God, I will never forget it. Not because it was beautiful…

…but because it almost killed me.

Eighteen and a half hours of labour.

Eighteen.

And a half.

Hours.

I’m standing there thinking, “What the f**k, if this goes any longer, we’re going to need a shift change.”

I felt bad for her, I really did… but at the same time I was thanking every god in the universe that I was born with this setup and not that one.

No f**kin way.

Then the doctor strolls in like he’s about to change a tire.

“Alright, she’s ready. Time to push.”

Push?

Buddy, I’ve been standing here for almost a full work shift. I’m the one that should be getting overtime.

Then this guy looks at me… dead serious… and says,

“Do you want to deliver the baby?”

Deliver the baby?

F**k that.

That’s YOUR job.

That’s why you went to school for ten years while I was eating bologna sandwiches and trying not to fail math.

I said, “Nope. I’ll stay up here with the damp cloth. I’m the forehead guy.”

Nice. Safe. Respectful distance from whatever the hell is going on down there.

So I lean in a little too close…

BIG mistake.

Out of nowhere she grabs the skin beside my belly button with her teeth like a f**kin pitbull.

I’m talking full clamp.

I screamed.

The doctor screamed.

There were two people in that room giving birth at that point.

He jumps up like, “WHAT THE F**K IS HAPPENING?!”

And I’m standing there with teeth marks in my gut, bleeding, trying not to pass out, wiping tears out of my eyes like I just watched the end of Titanic.

He finally sits back down and goes, “Okay… let’s continue.”

CONTINUE?

Buddy, I’ve been assaulted.

Then it starts.

“Push! Push!”

And I don’t know what the hell happened, but I started pushing too.

I’m at the side of the bed, bent over, breathing like a f**kin steam engine.

“HOOOO… HAAAA… HOOOO… HAAAA…”

I thought I was going to s**t on the floor beside the bed my son was being born in.

Imagine that story later.

“Yeah, your father s**t himself during your birth. Real proud moment.”

Then finally…

The big moment.

The doctor reaches down, pulls this thing up from behind the blanket like he’s unveiling a magic trick…

“It’s a boy!”

A boy?

I almost s**t again.

That didn’t look like a boy.

That looked like a full grown man.

My eyes were the size of Pamela Anderson’s b***s.

This kid looked like he could pay rent.

Nine pounds, eleven and a half ounces.

Nine.

Pounds.

Eleven.

What the f**k was she growing in there, a toddler?

I’m looking at this boy thinking, “That’s not a newborn… that’s a three month lease agreement.”

I got lightheaded.

Had to sit down.

Because there is no logical explanation…

HOW…

…does something that big…

…come out of THAT?

I still don’t understand it to this day.

All I know is this…

Women are built different.

And I will NEVER complain about a headache again.

~ And that is Callin’ it like it is!

03/29/2026

The Day I Almost Became a Supermodel (But Ate a Pizza Instead)

“Learn the formula to successful modeling!”

What the f**k…

There’s an actual formula now?

What is it?

Step one: be good looking.
Step two: don’t be ugly.

Well s**t… I’m already out.

I always thought modeling was simple.

You stand there…

You give your seductive look

And someone takes a picture.

That’s it.

Meanwhile the photographer is over there doing a full-blown art project.

“Turn your head… chin down… eyes softer… now give me emotion…”

Emotion?

Buddy, I’m just trying not to blink.

Then you’ve got his whole f**kin’ team around this person.

One person doing the hair.

One person fixing the face.

Another one adjusting the clothes.

Hell, the model doesn’t even dress themselves.

They just stand there like a human coat rack.

And people are like…

“Wow… look how talented you are.”

Talented?

For what?

Standing still and breathing through their mouth?

I could do that s**t.

I do that every day watching TV.

But then you look at what they want…

Skinny little bastards…

Six pack abs…

Jawline sharp enough to cut glass…

Meanwhile I’m over here built like a retired construction foreman that discovered beer was cheaper than therapy.

I don’t have a six pack.

I have the family pack.

And it’s not going anywhere.

But I started thinking…

Maybe there’s still a lane for me.

Beer commercials.

Now we’re talking.

You need a guy who looks like he knows his way around twelve cans and a bad decision?

That’s me.

Or an all-you-can-eat buffet ad.

“Come on down… watch this guy destroy a plate like it owes him money.”

I’ve trained for that my whole life.

That’s not modeling…

That’s a skill set.

I even tried the whole underwear thing once.

Thought maybe I’d surprise myself.

Put them on…

Looked in the mirror…

And I’ll be honest…

It wasn’t great.

But hey…

None of my crack was showing.

So technically…

That’s a win.

At that point I realized something.

I’m not starving myself…

I’m not getting my eyebrows trimmed by a guy named Sebastian…

And I’m definitely not letting someone tell me how to stand.

I’m an artist.

If I want to feel like a model…

I’ll just imagine it.

Hell, I can sit at my desk…

Buck naked…

Hair looking like I got electrocuted…

Gut hanging out like it’s enjoying retirement…

And still smile like I’m on the cover of a magazine.

In my head?

I’m a f**kin’ superstar.

In reality?

I’m eating cold pizza at three thirty in the morning wondering where it all went wrong.

And honestly…

That feels way more real than modeling ever will.

~ And that is Callin’ it like it is!

03/28/2026

I Hit The Cow… and Everything Went Straight to Hell

Growing up on a farm hanging around with a bunch of yard apes for friends you get a different perspective on life.

Because I’m telling you right now…
there is no such thing as being bored.

Every day was chaos.

Every day was a bad decision waiting to happen.

And somehow… my mother let a dozen of us run wild like it was a f**kin’ daycare for future criminals.

Hot August afternoon…

Blistering heat…

And someone says,
“Let’s have an apple fight.”

Now this wasn’t some cute little toss-the-apple-around bu****it.

No no.

This was war.

You get a five-minute head start, fill your shorts with apples, and pray to God you don’t run out of ammo and hopefully your pants don’t fall down when you try to run.

I’m on the hiding team.

I load up my shorts like I am packing a fruit truck.

You know those old jogging pant shorts that you gotta tie tight or they fall down?

Yeah… those.

So I cinch them up, stuff them full of apples, and take off across the pasture like a rabbit being chased by a half a dozen coyotes.

I run past the cow, cross the brook, dive into some bushes…

And I’m thinking…

“Nobody saw that.”

Meanwhile, I look like a man smuggling produce through airport security.

So I figure I’m safe.

Perfect time to take a p**s.

I untie the shorts… standing there writing my name on a rock with a big stupid grin on my face.

And out of nowhere…

The other team comes crashing through the bushes like a pack of starving wolves.

I’m standing there…

Pe**er in my hand…

Mid-stream…

And all hell breaks loose.

Apples start flying.

I mean flying.

One catches me right on the tip
Of the pe**er.

Direct hit.

Lights out.

I don’t even know what hurt more…

The apple… or the realization I’m about to get absolutely destroyed.

I’m trying to run…

Trying to tuck myself away…

Trying to pull my joggers up…

The brain hasn’t even told the bladder the show’s over yet.

I’ve got apples smashing off my back, my shoulders, my ass…

No shirt on.

Just getting lit up like a target at a fair.

And these bastards are throwing heat.

You ever get hit with a green apple thrown by a young buck with no mercy?

It feels like getting punched by a p**sed-off toddler with a rock.

My shorts are soaked from my bladder releasing the last of the rock writing…,

Heavy as hell…

Sliding down my ass…

So I finally say,
“F**k it.”

And I ditch them.

Learned that day…

You can take your clothes off at a full sprint if your life depends on it.

I grab the p**sy shorts, whip them at one guy, slow him down just enough…

Now I’m standing in the middle of a pasture…

Naked…

Except for my red sneakers…

Hiding behind a cow like that’s a solid life plan.

Meanwhile, apples are still coming in like artillery.

The cow’s just standing there, minding her business…

Now she’s catching stray apples too.

Now She’s getting p**sed.

I can’t reach any apples, so I grab the only thing available…

A dried-up piece of horse s**t.

Desperation move.

I fire it like a goddam live grenade…

And of course…

Of course…

I hit the cow right in the eye.

Now she’s not just annoyed…

She’s furious.

And I learn something very important that day…

You know a cow can run a hell of a lot faster than a naked teenager with no dignity left.

I try to stay beside her for cover…

She takes off…

Leaves me completely exposed…

Then turns around and starts chasing me.

So now I’m getting hunted by my own defensive strategy.

I bolt for a tree…

Bare-ass naked…

Welts all over my back…

Pe**er still traumatized…

And I scramble up this skinny old white birch tree like a cat with a death wish.

Problem is…

That cow didn’t forget.

She parks herself under the tree like a security guard.

Doesn’t move.

Doesn’t blink.

Just waits.

The other guys?

They got bored and left.

Went back to throwing apples at each other like nothing happened.

And I’m stuck…

Three hours…

In a f**kin’ tree…

No shade…

Sunburning parts of my body that have never seen daylight…

Hungry…

Thirsty…

Emotionally destroyed…

Watching everyone else go eat hot dogs.

And not one of those bastards came back to get me.

That’s the day I learned two things:

One…

Never trust a group of teenagers with apples.

And two…

If you hit a cow in the eye with horse s**t…

You better be prepared to live in a tree for a while.

~ And that is Callin’ it like it is!

03/27/2026

Do You Think I Am Sexy

You ever leave the liquor store feeling like a f**kin’ weapon?

I grab my supplies for the evening.

Clerk hands me my change…

Extra twenty.

Now instead of thinking, “She messed up…”

My brain goes,

“Yeah… she wants me.”

That’s how stupid confidence starts…

And that’s Before you even drink.

I pocket the twenty like it’s part of the plan.

“Worst case… I’ll give it back later.”

Yeah… that money’s gone.

Fast forward to the bar…

Few drinks in…

Now I’m not dancing…

I’m performing.

First song…

Little moves.

Second song…

Now I’m feeling’ it.

Third song…

I’m interpreting music like I’m in a f**kin’ music video.

I don’t know what I’m doing…

But in my head?

This is elite.

Then it hits me…

“I’m sexy.”

Not kinda…

Full-blown problem.

There’s a woman nearby…

In my head she’s into it.

Reality?

She’s just trying to exist.

But I’m locked in.

Shirt comes off.

Didn’t think…

Didn’t plan…

It just left.

My gut drops out…

And somehow I’m thinking,

“Look at that six-pack.”

Meanwhile I look like a sack of potatoes ready to explode onto the dance floor.

Now I’m talking…

Saying s**t I shouldn’t be saying…

To people I don’t even know.

Because at this point…

I believe every woman in that bar is fighting the urge to jump my bones.

Even I’m impressed with myself.

Lights come on…

Music stops…

I’m standing there half-dressed…

Sweating like I just survived 4 rounds with Mike Tyson.

Next day…

I go back for my keys.

Trying to act normal.

Waitress looks at me…

Smiles…

“Oh… you were here last night.”

Yeah… I was.

Then she shows me.

Pictures.

There I am…

Shirt off…

Face twisted…

Dancing like a possessed lawn chair.

I don’t look sexy…

I look like a f**kin’ idiot.

And just like that…

Confidence gone.

Twenty bucks gone.

Dignity?

Never existed.

Turns out…

She didn’t think I was sexy…

She just can’t count.

~ And that is Callin’ it like it is!

03/26/2026

EDDY - DON’T EAT THAT!

Does everyone have friend that makes you question reality?

Like… you’ve been around him so long you start thinking this kind of behavior is just part of life?

Yeah… that’s Eddy.

Hot summer day, we’re at the shop, minding our own business, probably sweating our balls off and pretending we’re productive. All of a sudden Eddy pulls in like he’s got breaking news.

He jumps out of the car all excited.

“Boys! Come check this out!”

Now right away… that tone?

That’s not a good tone.

That’s the tone of a man who’s about to ruin your day.

He’s got this tiny little lab puppy with him. Cute as hell. Could fit in both hands. You’re thinking, alright, nice… we’re looking at a puppy.

Simple.

Wholesome.

Normal.

Nope.

Because Eddy doesn’t do normal.

This idiot somehow got his hands on a giant bag of restaurant chilli base. The kind with the screw cap on it like a big ketchup bag from hell.

And before we even know what’s happening…

This lunatic squeezed the bag out onto the gravel before he came to the door.

I mean REALLY squeezed it.

And out comes this thick, steaming pile that looks exactly like the biggest dog s**t you’ve ever seen in your life.

I’m talking basketball size.

This puppy could have climbed it like a f**kin’ mountain.

“GET OUT HERE! YOU GOTTA SEE THE SIZE OF THE S**T THIS DOG JUST TOOK!”

Now here’s the thing about Eddy…

He commits.

So we all walk out there… and we’re staring at this pile… and I mean…

It is PERFECT.

Color, texture, shape… everything.

You could’ve put that thing in a museum called “Holy F**k That’s Not Right.”

The two guys I’m working with are standing there horrified, looking at this tiny puppy like it just committed a war crime.

I’m already suspicious.

Because I know Eddy.

And nothing good ever follows that look on his face.

Then he hits us with it.

“Give me fifty bucks… and I’ll take a bite out of it.”

Now me?

I’m out.

I’ve seen enough of this man’s bu****it to know this isn’t going to go the way normal people think it will.

But these two idiots?

Fresh victims.

They’re like, “No way… no f**kin’ way he does that…”

And boom.

They’re in.

Fifty bucks on the line.

Eddy hands me the puppy like he’s about to perform surgery…

Drops down on his hands and knees…

Looks at that pile…

Starts gagging… dry heaving… really selling it…

I mean this guy deserves a f**kin’ Oscar.

Then he pauses…

Looks back at us…

And just LAUNCHES his face into it.

FULL COMMITMENT.

I’m talking pie-eating contest energy.

Face buried in it.

Slurping, chewing, making the most disgusting sounds you’ve ever heard in your life.

You could hear one of the guys behind me go,
“OH MY F**KIN’ GOD…”

The other guy?

Gone.

Just gone.

Back into the shop like his soul left his body.

Eddy stands up…

Face covered in it…

Smiling like a psychopath.

“Boys… it’s not bad. Tastes like beans and hamburger.”

At that moment… I didn’t know whether to laugh… puke… or question every decision I’ve ever made that led me to standing beside this man.

The guy beside me is dry heaving.

The other one won’t come back outside.

And I’m just standing there holding this innocent little puppy like…

“You are gonna grow up thinking this is normal… and that scares the s**t out of me.”

And just so you know…

Those idiots never paid the fifty bucks.

Because they learned something very important that day.

Never bet against a man who is completely comfortable eating what looks like a pile of s**t in a gravel parking lot.

That’s not a normal man.

That’s Eddy.

~ And that is Callin’ it like it is!

03/25/2026

I Should’ve Just Stayed Cold

You ever sit there in the winter…

Wrapped in a blanket…

Watching your breath in your own living room…

And still think…

“Yeah… I’ll fix this later.”

Because you know the second you touch that furnace…

Your bank account is about to get its ass kicking into next week!

So I call these guys…

Townfire Heating.

First red flag…

Their number might as well be YOU-BURN.

Should’ve hung up right there.

But no…

I’m feeling responsible.

So they send over this “professional.”

This guy shows up like he’s about to shut my house down.

Clipboard…

Serious face…

Walking around like he’s judging my life choices.

He looks at my furnace…

Does that long, dramatic sigh…

Like I’ve personally offended him.

“Well… this is no good.”

No good?!

It’s been keeping me alive for 15 winters!

He taps it…

Listens to it…

Writes something down like it’s terminal.

Then he looks at my oil tank…

And just starts laughing.

Laughing.

Like I invited him over for a f**kin’ comedy show.

“Oh yeah… that’s gotta go.”

Gotta go where?!

It’s not packing a bag and leaving!

Then he hits me with this beauty…

“You’re not allowed to do this yourself.”

Not allowed?!

Who the f**k made you the boss of my house?

Apparently I’m too stupid to fix my own furnace…

But smart enough to pay for it.

Convenient.

Then he goes…

“We’ll have to do the work.”

Of course you will.

Of course the solution is you.

Then he starts explaining everything I’ve been doing wrong…

Insulation…

Heat loss…

“Winterizing.”

Buddy, I’ve survived every winter so far.

I think the house is doing its job.

But according to him…

This place is basically a wooden jacket.

So I ask…

“How much?”

And he pauses…

Like he’s about to tell me someone died.

Then he says it.

And I swear to God…

My brain shut off at “thousand.”

Plural.

I’m standing there like…

“For that price, this furnace better cook breakfast and rub my f**kin’ feet.”

Then he goes…

“Don’t worry… it’s the same every month.”

Oh perfect.

So instead of one kick in the balls…

I get a subscription.

Now every month that bill shows up…

Same number…

Same pain…

Like a reminder that I tried to be responsible once.

And every time the furnace kicks on…

I don’t feel warm…

I feel violated.

So yeah…

Next time I’m cold?

I’m putting on another sweater.

Maybe two.

Hell, I’ll light a candle and pretend I’m camping.

Because calling those guys?

That wasn’t heating my house…

That was setting my paycheck on fire.

~ And that is Callin’ it like it is!

Callin’ It Like It Is

04/03/2026

04/02/2026

04/01/2026

03/31/2026

03/30/2026

03/29/2026

03/28/2026

03/27/2026

03/26/2026

03/25/2026

Address

Website

Alerts

Shortcuts

Share

Category