Friday, November 28, 2014

Very important news of global concern

Perhaps one of the single greatest challenges facing Brazil today, and of absolutely first concern, judging by the attention paid to the issue, is the judging of just which woman has the nicest bottom in the country famed and appreciated for their women's devotion to having nice bottoms.

 To act as an information clearinghouse and promote quality bottom-looking-at judging ability, Brazil formed the Miss Bumbum committee, a guild of selfless, professional bum-lookers dedicated to being able to who gots the best bottom.

 Think I'm waxing poetic? You have no idea what these poor, dedicated men have to go through. Forget being a Vegas oddsmaker, THESE are the guys who have to deal with a mountain of minutia and the ability to pick up on near-invisible cues when judging many, many butts out there where the difference between one and sundry is almost invisible to the human eye.

 So, in proving my point, here are the Miss Bumbum contestants we're talking about.











Thursday, November 27, 2014

Extra Happy Thanksgiving

I want to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving- whether you're at work on the water, selling shoes, or whatever it is you do, I hope you have the time and desire to mark the day as something to be thankful for.


 We got a nice surprise here at HAWSEPIPER's Afloat Global HQ/ Banquet hall. Whilst working on our corroborative cooking for the day (I'm going off the diet  wagon. After losing 2.5lbs in the last 10 days, (83lbs gone), I'm going to undo that, right here today).

 The big surprise is that the cargo scheduled to be loaded aboard tonight has been postponed for 24 hours, which means that other than a quick shifting of berths this evening, we're free to enjoy the food coma. For this we are extremely thankful.

EDIT: Never Mind. They moved it back to today. Dammit.


 The only regret I hold is that Inappropriately Hot Foreign Wife and The Boy are alone today, with no family within 1500 miles. They're celebrating with some good friends, thank God, but it's a little tough on them. Life of a sailor's wife and all. Spare them a thought if you think of it, along with all the military wives, service industry folks, and others who are either working or separated from their loved ones.


 Here is a copy of my Thanksgiving post from the Book of Faces. Holidays always make me so sentimental.


"Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Spare a thought for the service industry folks working today; the oil industry folks, farmers, and and the plumber you'll call when your visiting aunt aunt stops up the head with something the size of a cat. Quit denying, auntie. We all know it was you."

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

The Turducken Incident

This was the blog post that almost got me fired.

http://bigironbegfish.blogspot.com/2008/11/be-optimistic.html


 Thanksgiving 2008 was in the middle of my last voyage on the ancient and awful but beloved tanker NEW RIVER, and it was 4 months of hell. Breakdowns, broken charters, and my one and only real moment thus far in life where it was reasonable to make an Act of Contrition (a catholic thing when facing death), which took place during a series of synchronous progressive rolls when the ship rolled onto her beam ends. causing something of a fuss and lawsuits and ultimately a nail in the coffin of a dying company.

 So it was a shitty trip, but I survived and thrived. But then, my Thanksgiving post above was posted, and I damn near got blackballed for the crime of insulting the Turducken.

I'm not a fan of the unholy amalgamation of three otherwise fine 'n tasty fowls. My own humble opinion is that they're the opposite of synergy. Like pouring french onion soup over birthday cake.

 6 years. Seems like a lifetime ago. In many ways, I guess I've grown up, finally.






 Of all the things I've lost, I miss my hair the most. I These days, it's coming in more gray and less red, what little there is. OTOH, I don't miss the strain of 295lbs on my hips and knees. I can't lift a full 55 gallon drum to chest height anymore, but, then again, I don't weigh as much as one, either.



Sunday, November 23, 2014

a little floor spice makes everything nice

My employer has 2 main classes of tugboats. The little ones are 3,000hp harbor tugs- sweet, maneuverable and versatile. Then there are the 4,200hp ocean-going tugs. Great for going in a straight line, but bred from the unholy union of a wrecking ball and a bulldozer. Too much ass, not enough rudder, really, for day-to-day maneuvering here at the Q, especially when handled by the tugboating equivalent of  being set up with a girl who's "got a great personality."

 Best tugboaters in the world would have a hard time making these pigs do what they're supposed to do. Not every 4200 driver is in competition for that title, anyhow. Some are pretty damn good. Some... not so much. Tonight's tugboat driver is an unknown. I've worked with him once before, and, the guy seems damn good.  Tugboats are festooned with rubber bumpers for a reason. They're made to be able to use the Braille method of navigation. "Am I close? How close am I? *SMASH* "OK, We're here."

 Our NY fleet is not like that, for the most part. There's some hellaciously good small boat handlers out there.



 Waiting for clearance to leave a dock, the tugboat comes up alongside us a little hard... and by a little hard, I mean it blew a large pot of soup clean off my stove and sent it 5 solid feet away from the stove before landing on deck. I checked. My galley deck looks like a crime scene, but the area around the stove is pristine.


 Anyhow, although I've been known to endorse the 5-second rule once or twice, there's no going back for about 4 meals worth of spicy tortilla soup. While there's no crying over spilled milk, there's not much choice when the living quarters' air is so spiced up that you can taste the soup just by breathing. Shit's burning the hell out of my eyes. I feel like I've been watching "Brian's Song" on repeat.

 Well, it'll be funny once the smell's gone. I got a sort-of laugh out of it. It'd be funnier if I wasn't hungry. I'm the only one awake right now... well, now I am, anyhow. I'm pretty sure that the sound of about 10lbs of soup and a 3-gallon steel pot achieving flight, not to mention 4,000 tons moving sideways about 5 ft in a 1/2 second probably wasn't something that you can sleep through.

Saturday, November 22, 2014

Thursday, November 20, 2014

better and better!

Ahhhhh... back home, here at the 'Q.  Nothing, but nothing, makes me appreciate, warts n' all, HAWSEPIPER's Afloat Global HQ/men's sanitorium, than time spent on another barge.

 I'm back at my home-away-from-home, and that's to the good. My week away was spent on the Career Killer, a particularly uncomfortable and unlucky vessel, though I had good company there, which made it tolerable. Really, anyone can about survive anything for a week, and I did.

 But still, glad to be here.

     To celebrate, we even got a watch off AND shore access, so I did a 10-mile walk, and bought some quality food items at a snobby gourmet grocery, because I eat super-healthy while at work, so I can eat everything I love while at home and not swell up.  Any gate, I now have a modest supply of staple items (vegetables and salad fixin's), and sore feet.

 What? I haven't walked in 2 weeks. My daily hour-walking-in-circles-on-deck doesn't count. It's an OCD behavior at this point.

Tomorrow I am bunkering the "Quantum of the Seas," the world's newest cruise ship. First time. She's leaving Monday for her first full cruise, and will become one of my regulars. She's replacing another regular,the one where people are always getting Norovirus, because having a significant portion of your guests shitting themselves all over the place is, apparently, bad for business.

  So hopefully the Quantum won't become a floating palace of Cholera like her predecessor.

the gas cap is behind the license plate. 

I dunno. I kinda want to try a cruise, but getting stuck in an office-building sized edifice, however nice, with 6,000 people sounds... awful. I know it's supposed to be nice, but I'm not 100% down with the idea of being on a boat and not being paid filthy lucre-grade money to do so.



Tuesday, November 18, 2014

mariner's post: as ye reap...

We bitched, loudly, but mostly just to each other when we were ordered to only use the 'white lines,' new heavy rope. It's very absorbent and far heavier in terms of density than the polypropylene blend rope that used to be the standard. Over the last few years, before making the switch, we migrated to heavier lines, more strands (from three to eight), and then, eventually, to what we've got right now, sitting like frozen 2-ton sacks of shit on deck. This past year, polypro was banned, and we made the switch to heavier, larger, heavier stuff, which certainly gave me a sore back on a fair regular basis, and, arguably, could have set the stage for some injuries as a result. Unfortunately, in the tankering business, the folks hired by oil companies to vet us call the shots, and practicality vs. looks-good-on-paper isn't always the same thing. The new lines have more stretch, which presumably would cut down on lines parting, which they will do at times. This causes scary near-misses, and, although I've never seen it, can cause traumatic injury if someone's in the way. This seems to be rare, as we get scared shitless by parting lines  a couple of times a year.

 On the other hand, I've seen plenty of guys hurt their backs, humping rope. 

 Mariners are like seagulls: we eat, shit and squawk. Sometimes, though, it's good to know the squawking attracts attention, even if belatedly so.

 Well, recently we were able to make the switch back to a lighter, less absorbent synthetic mooring line. There has been much rejoicing.

 You see, we move HAWSEPIPER's AFLOAT GLOBAL HQ/ Pleasure Gardens constantly move- our mileau is small volume, multiple-product bunker work, which means we may moor, unmoor and remoor multiple times a day. Not being a massive ship with an entrenched local pilot, and multiple tugboats, we never have any assistance when docking at a terminal, which means that we have to physically THROW lines around bitts to a dock. And everybody but the tug captains take part in it. Hell, even the tug engineers sometimes come aboard to help moor. Very different from large ships, where the deck officer's massive case of t-rex arms precludes operating anything heavier than a walkie-talkie. And with the tugs calling the shots from hundreds of feet away, it can get pretty stressful for the ropes as we lever the unit into position, hence the gradual shift to using only slightly smaller mooring lines that we used on my old ship the 'New River' which was 100x heavier than the ol' HQ.

 At any rate, the insanely heavy, absorbent, back-straining lines we have are now frozen solid 'cus it's so dang cold out. Pretty much useless. Yesterday it poured rain all day, soaking the lines, and they didn't have time to dry out before the freeze set in.

 Yeah, losing all the weight this year means that I feel the cold more than I did last year, too. Not cool. On the upside, I can do some jumping jacks to warm up now, where last winter I'd have blown a knee out trying.



 No bullshit, this heavy white line, whatever it is,  is amazing stuff. The modulus of this shit is better than steel or spider silk when frozen. I lifted a 15-foot section that had frozen in a straight line, and it held its shape. A Wallenda could have walked across it without tying off both ends. Problem is, you've got to bend that shit around bitts and bollards, and the eye splice at the end needs to, you know, be eye-shaped.

 Not much fun out there, guys and gals. Our two new 16-strand lightweight synthetic lines are now revered aboard with the same fervor normally reserved for icons of the Virgin Mary in a Mexican household. You see, they freeze, but they're not water absorbent, so they still bend and can be thrown. I fully expect candles to be laid out around the stowed coils at some point.

 Oh, don't be offended. I'm Catholic, too. We can withstand a little light humor about how we roll.