August 04, 2003
Note to self...
Don't forget-later ya wanna ask that death question and ya have a coupla "body oddity" questions, too.
Posted by: Stevie at 07:51 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Who IS that?
I admit, I don't know a lot about site meter. I just check the number and then the 'by referrals' page. Sometimes the details page. I intend to upgrade someday so I can see by what search words people get here. In the meantime, I'm wondering: Who is level3.net? Is it me? Whoever it is comes by a lot and usually has at least one visit that's pretty long with a lot of page views. Now, I come here and go down my bloglist at least once a day...so is it me? Or do I have a 'fan'? I clicked on the level3.net, and it took me to the homepage of some huge communications company....so, that didn't help. Who would even KNOW who their provider's provider is? Anyway...
Thank you who ever you are. If it's me..."Hi..ya 'tard."
Posted by: Stevie at 07:48 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
This is weird...
I post the lyrics to "Buzz the Fuzz" and wind up with "Hey 19" by Steely Dan stuck in my head. I mean, I like this song, but....c'mon already.
Posted by: Stevie at 04:06 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
More strange shit from inside my head...
These are things, not necessarily related to anything, that are in my tangled brain...
If I hadn't screwed around in school, I would have become a forensic pathologist. That shit is fascinating.
I am appalled by what was done to Randy & Vickie Weaver at Ruby Ridge, Idaho.
I think it is perfectly fitting and a testament to the existance of Karma that the idiot who ran over Stephen King is now dead. Good. Asshole.
I fucking hate rap.
Dwight Yoakam is a pussy. And, I used to LOOOVVVEEE him.
I find it fascinating that cows and dairy farmers are able to maintain life with NO BRAIN FUNCTION WHATSOEVER. Cows...dairy farmers. Coincidence? I think not.
*There are only two ways to understand women-and nobody knows either of them.
*The quickest way to a man's heart is through his left ventricle.
Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana. (Think about it...)
Four out of five proctologists surveyed recommend sugarless suppositories for people who CHEW suppositories.
Be alert. The world needs more lerts.
"Max Dugan Returns" is a GREAT movie.
Sam Kinnison....damn I miss him. He was the funniest sumbitch. I hope the asshole who killed him has a long, horrible life.
Dash Goff, Suzanne Sugarbaker's ex-husband from "Designing Women" (played by Delta Burk's real husband Gerald McRaney) reminds me of Acidman. I think.
Gia Carangi was the first "Supermodel", not that twat Janice Dickenson-or whatever her last name is.
Fresh cowshit smells GOOD.
Chickenshit does not.
BABY shit is even worse. And, it comes in an alarming assortment of highly unnatural COLORS.
I love the smell of a freshly opened tin of Copenhagen. No, I don't dip. I hate spit. But, Eric does.
I thank God every day for Juan Valdez and whoever invented Coffeemate.
I think wrestling is stoopid...BUT- I love Bret Hart and would gladly shoot Vince McMahon in the face whether Bret asked me to or not. Ugly asshole. Walks like he's got a corncob stuck up his ass.
Okay, then. I feel better now. That's no where near ALL the shit in my head, but it is a good start. Now, about those *'s.
The ones marked with an *, were borrowed from a guy from the 60's named Biff Rose. He was a folkie, I believe, with a warped sense of humor. I e mailed him about a year and a half ago and he e mailed me back HIMSELF. I saved that one. Anybody besides me ever hear of him or his song called "Buzz the Fuzz"? It is awesome (funny). So is he.
Once there was a fellow and his name was Buzz.
He was a rookie cop-just a baby fuzz.
He patrolled the Sunset strip in the land of the free and the home of the hip.
He protected you and me until he met a girl named Alice D.
Alice was a girl that all good hippies dread.
And, they called her "Sweet Alice D. head".
Alice, it was plain to see, was full of pot and STP.
She'd attract a great big crowd,
Because her inner peace was MUCH TOO LOUD.
Buzz did the thing the good fuzz must.
Shoved his gun in Alice's chest and said "This is a bust."
He shone the flashlight to her eyes,
She began to hypnotize...
Buzz said "What a wild sensation. This must be hallu, hallu, cina, cina, tion, tion, tion."
Love is so sensational.
When you fall in love with eyes dilational.
Buzz said "Alice, you I like. Come take a ride on my fuzzy bike. Soon it will be getting dark and we can watch the stars from Griffith Park."
So, they both went out and dug astrology-ee-ee-eee-ee-ee...
Through their mutual hallucinology-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee.
Now their takin' pills and shots and
Buzz is not afraid of Watts.
Buzz and Alice D. have shown the way of where the fuzz might be some day.
Buzz is still a cop, of course.
He's the pusher on the force.
He's protecting you and me
From e-v-i-l women like poor Alice D.
You've got to HEAR the melody to get the full effect, but it's still funny.
Well, I have to PEE again, so I'll be going now.
Peace to ya.
Posted by: Stevie at 01:26 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
cffffffffffffffgggggggg
nmmmmnmmggggggdvgdwteyytnuyhccddv cx.ty//GFGzzCL
THAT was from Ozzy and Yoyo, the cat who won't stay DOWN-the OTHER two kittens. All I did was put their title in bold for them. Doesn't it look like they were trying to leave a web address? The first two kittens who were sitting on me-they're names are Buster and Wheezer.
Hey, I warned 'em. If they insist on getting involved in this, I'm publishing it. (That's all I need. Those two (or four) typing away here when I'm busy elsewhere...)
Posted by: Stevie at 12:31 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
If ya don't believe me, ask the NJSP...
The year is 1981. I've just graduated high school and my stupid mother has moved to Florida with my boyfriend. So, Dad gave me her car. A 1980 Ford Pinto with a sunroof and manual tranny. I was out driving around the back roads of Mannington Township, drinking beer, like it used to be safe to do. Naturally, I had to pee. Having spent my youth on horseback, I learned the benefits of peeing in bushes long ago. So, I pulled over on this unlined, rarely used road, found a bush and made room for more beer. Mind you, I wasn't drunk...yet. Just a little buzzed and a lot silly. I get done, get in the car and start down the road. I hadn't even gotten in third, when a deer jumped outta the woods and attacked my car. She put a one inch dent in the passenger side front quarter panel and passed out. I freaked. "OH GOD!! THE DEER, THE DEER!!" I thought she was dead. So, with my mind somewhere between crushing guilt at having murdered this poor animal and visions of venison dancing in my head, I decided to try to minimize the loss. I decided to take her home to my deer hunting Dad and let him handle it. With a Ford PINTO. That has a "trunk" about 4X6 inches big.
Getting her into the trunk wasn't working out too well, so I opted for the back seat.
I got her limp body up okay and had her about 2/3 of the way in, when my "dead" deer came to. And, she was NOT thrilled about the idea of going for a ride, let me tell ya. Not the least bit...
I had been stuffing her in through the drivers side door, so I opened the passenger door, pushed the seat forward and she scrambled out. And, just stood there. Looking at me. I noticed then that she had a lump on the side of her mouth, like a chew of tobacco, with just a little bit of bleeding. She let me walk up to her and I checked her legs and spine for deformaties, found none and was thrilled she was okay. I couldn't just leave her standing in the road, so I pushed her to the side, where there was a horse pasture and fortunately, a gate into the pasture. I opened it and pushed her through to safety. She just stood there. Again. Okay....
I decided I needed my Dad anyway and went off to find him. Not home. Must be at the Moose, playing cards....The Moose was in the process of switching locations, from one side of Woodstown to the other. I checked the old location first. Not there. Damn. On to the new place. Or, so I thought.
What I didn't realize at the time, was that the entire back of my car, part of the drivers side and most of my shirt was covered in blood, from her cut mouth. Oops.
One of my cop buddies from town, Donald, saw my car, saw the blood and pulled me over to find out who I had killed and how many times. I told him what had transpired and I don't think he believed me-at first. (Who the FUCK would try to put a deer in the back seat of a PINTO, fer Chrissake? me...)
By the time I got that whole story told, I had to pee again. So, now I'm outta my car, crouching down next to Donald's drivers door with my heel crammed in my crotch to keep from peeing myself because Donald is being a comedian about this. He had to call the STATE POLICE because it happened just out of his jurisdiction. So we wait. And, I've GOTTA PEE!!! (You know how it is drinking beer-one bottle turns into a bucketfull and once you've peed the first time, ya gotta pee at just about every telephone pole after that...sigh) So, what seemed like three days later, the Sate Boys show up. By that time, I've got Donald talked into letting me swing by my house (which is on the way) so I can PEE!!!
So, we all go to my house so I can pee. Picture that. Three cop cars lined up at the end of the driveway, while I go pee. Gawd. I grabbed my Dad's friend Carol, while I was there and got her to come with me.
Now, I get to lead this absurd parade to the location of my altercation with said deer. SHE WAS STILL STANDING THERE IN THE FIELD.
Unbelievable.
Two of the Staties walked up to her and were petting her for a few minutes. Then one smacked her ass and she took off. Yeay!
They let me go after that...didn't ask many questions, either. They all just left. The part of this story I find hard to believe is what they said happened next. ("They" being the State Boys..) I ran into one of them later at a court date (for a seperate incident where someone stole the registration and insurance cards outta the car and I didn't know it 'til AFTER I needed to...)Anyway, this State cop comes up and says "Aren't you the girl from the deer incident?" I told him I was and he told me that after they left me that night, they had headed back to the barracks by way of Alloway-Woodstown Rd. and caught some woman trying to burn down her boyfriends house because he was in there with another woman. They caught her as she was trying to get back into her car-which she had locked the keys in. Woah.
Cool. Glad I could help. Even gladder that y'all didn't find my sixer I had stashed in the bushes prior to going off to find my Dad.
This is true. Like the title says... if ya don't believe me, ask the NJSP-Woodstown Barracks.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:07 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
August 03, 2003
Just Damn X2
I did a bit of blog-hopping today and added some new ones. Two of these blogs had me crying...bad. Two different people out there lost their dogs this past week. One was hit by a car and the other died suddenly, right in front of her Daddy. That poor man...my heart aches for both Daddies. It's bad enough when some coward kills your animal by running it over and dooesn't even having the courtesy to try to find you and own up to it, but to have a seemingly healthy animal just drop dead in front of your eyes...man.
I can't even bear to watch "Emergency Vets" on Animal Planet when they have to let one go. I wind up in tears like it was my own animal.
By the way, I believe (and hope and pray) that there is a special place in HELL reserved for assholes who hurt, torture,abuse, misuse and murder animals. That includes inattentive assholes in cars. That includes inattentive assholes in cars who run over wildlife. It ESPECIALLY includes fuckwads who do it on purpose.
I'm not suggesting you total your car over a squirrel, I'm just saying SLOW THE FUCK DOWN A LITTLE and HANG UP THE FUCKING PHONE and PAY ATTENTION. And, for the record, I would and have gone to great lenghts to avoid killing animals. I'm a damn good driver, especially for a female (and that's outta the mouths of men who I've (road) raced and won off of-not my own opinion) and if I can keep from murdering animals with my car, so could everyone else. If they gave a damn. But, they don't. So to hell with 'em.
Which reminds me of a deer who hit me once....
Posted by: Stevie at 11:26 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
I am a human cat-condo...
As I type, I've got two out of four kittens lying in my lap. My legs are getting numb from trying to keep it level and stable enough to hold them. Do they care? Nope. They just give me looks like "Moo-ooom...will you stop moving around? Ya woke me (us) up." Sigh. Then, just 'cause I'm so good at typing blindly AND with one hand, one of my two, huge, furry (long-haired) last-batch kittens decides he just HAAAS to be held. Dale's way of being "held" is to hug ya. Chest on chest, little sharp clawed arms around your neck-usually kneading your neck. Which is sweet, but PAINFUL. He also is sitting on the two kittens. HE doesn't care, but they do. And, I will if he does one of his patented cat-farts on 'em. Not only will I will compelled to leave the area, they will be singed beyond recognition. And, ya know how good burning hair smells....
Oh, thank God...Dale decided to go eat. Now, maybe if I make a kitten-hammock outta my nightshirt, I'll become ambulatory again. Or at least I'll be able to move.
I don't know where people get the idea cats aren't affectionate. Have you ever tried to go to the bathroom with 3 cats in your lap and seven more waiting their turn? Everyime I sit down anywhere, I get covered with vibrating fur balls.
Then there's the DOGS....
Posted by: Stevie at 11:08 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Oh, and let's not forget...
the best part of all this. My little friend is enroute. My once monthly, three-day terrorist buddy. You know...the one who can't make up it's freakin' mind whether or not it's really here. It started it's shit again earlier. Like, late Saturday night. So far, I've had a hint, a cramp or two and I've been crying over stupid shit...like episodes of "Friends"-the one with the prom video and the lobster couple theory. When she goes to him, after seeing the video, I leaked. And, I knew what is (alleged to be) coming. No PMS, this time, though. Not even with the additional shit I'm tring to figure out. I did, however, want to kill Bill again a coupla times. I really believe he just does incredibly stpid shit in cycles. It's not me. It's him. (And, no, I don't mean Bill at B.I.....I mean the Bill who owns this farm.) Anyway....
I gotta run to the store. I'll be back later.
Peace to ya!
Posted by: Stevie at 06:30 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
"Headache" Part Deux (not starring Charlie Sheen, damn it...)
Okay, Blogger didn't eat the last part. Good. And, I got to picture Charlie Sheen for minute. Even better. (Lord he's gorgeous!)
Anyway, I've got this person in my life who is exhibiting behavior that would normally signal a parting of the ways to me. Disrespecting his Dad, acting stupid, lying, causing unnecessary drama, involving cops, bleeding....God. Who needs this shit? Ironically, the one person on the entire Goddamn planet who could hope to get away with that kind of shit, is the last person would ever DO that kinda shit. Eric, Sr. Want another dose of irony? (It's good for your blood.) The last person on the entire Goddamn planet that I'd ever want to hurt, is the person I'd hurt the worst if I did disconnect from this current dillhole/child.
I'll bet the name of this blog is making more and more sense, ain't it?
Eric, Jr. is going to be here again sometime Sunday, for up to three weeks. When I first heard that, I was like," Nuh-uh, no way. That's too long..." His father and I decided to let him know that how long he's here depends on him and his behavior. If he starts his stupid shit again, he's going back to Jersey early. End of story.
My biggest problem with all this, is this: I don't know what is "normal" teenage,-parents-are-seperated,-mom-is-a-complete-bitch,-pubescent,-adolescent behavior and what is a total lack of respect, regard and caring a damn about his Dad. I do realize that I'm hyper-senstive to people fuckin' with Eric, Sr. And, I'd like to believe that none of this behavior of Jr.'s really is such a complete and total lack of respect, BUT....Where is the line? And, what can you do when the line gets crossed that doesn't include having to hang around all day with someone you're pissed at? Grounding Eric Jr. to the house keeps him away from the asswits outside, but I'M the one who's here all day. And, the last thing I need or he would want is to be stuck with me all day, after he's fucked up again. I'll be pissed. I know me. And, when I get pissed atcha, the last thing I want is to HAVE to talk to you. If I have to before I'm ready to, it'll probably be brutally honest and ugly. So, if you insist on being a jerk-off, it's probably better to just get and stay away from me. If you're honestly stupid, or at least sorry, I'll come around. Given enough time and distance, I'll cool off. But, I'm not gonna keep forgiving the same stupid shit over and over, either.
So, what do I do? What do we do? What would YOU do?
From day one, Eric and I have gone the "treat him like a small adult to an extent" route. Eric Sr. wants to be his buddy because he never gets to see him and he wants him to keep wanting to move up here. I'm aware of the 'buddy' thing and kept a close eye on it- or so I thought. This was working great with Eric Jr., until the beginning of this summer. Is it the age he is? Or did the 'buddy' routine blow up? This boy is a young 14. He's not as mature as most 14/15 year olds. I don't know why. He's certainly living a life he could learn from. We try to show him...
Another thing...I was a Daddy's girl to DEATH. I'd have gladly shot my mom in the face, if Dad had asked me to. And, my mom was NOTHING compared to Jr.'s. He knows how horrible she is, he knows how his Dad is, too. So, I cannot even begin to fathom what I see as a lack of loyalty to his Dad. The not listening, the lying to his face...Christ, I get pissed just thinking about it. How FUCKING DARE he do that? Whom, exactly does the little snot think he is? Eric Jr. has taken me right up to the edge of "If this is how little you think of your Dad, then just get away from him." I'm scared almost shitless that he'll wind up shoving me off that cliff this time. Of course, I'd love to (drop enough acid or smoke enough weed to ) blythely believe that he'll be his younger, sweeter, smarter self, but I hate liars. Even when it's me tryin' to lie to me. After the crap he pulled last time, how CAN I believe he'll not keep it up? He does anally stupid shit here, when he's around his Dad and when he's in Jersey around his mom. So, what do I have to go on?
Recent past experience with this kid-not good.
Past experience with kids in general-limited, mostly negative.
Patience with this kind of shit-Nonexistant.
Room for error-Fuck if I know.
help
I really don't want to watch this kid get lost. Even when he's had me so pissed I couldn't think straight, I still have the instinct to help him, if for no other reason, for his Dad. So far. Ya know what else? I've fucked up enough stuff in my own life and inadvertantly in other's lives by not being able to get my head outta my ass quick enough and by not knowing what the right thing was to do. I don't want to do that again. Not this time. I want to save them both. Father AND son. But, if I'm forced to choose one or the other....GOD help me, here. How the flyin' FUCK to you save Dad by rippin' his heart out by lettin' the kid go to save yourself? I do not want to have to do that. And, which is worse for Dad? Letting go to save himself or being right there while the kid slowly consigns himself to hell? Jesus.
How do you parents with good, stable teenagers do it? Ass beatings? Church? What?
Sigh.....well, people. Enough about this for now. As usual, any hints, suggestions-hell, any comments AT ALL, will be appreciated...
Peace to ya...
Posted by: Stevie at 02:16 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
And now, for the cause of my current headache...
Okay...let me start by stating that I am 40 years old and I've never been pregnant-never had kids. This is fine with me. I can remember being a kid myself and swearing I'd never have kids because I was scared I'd treat them like my Mom did me. Then, as the years passed, I just never did get pregnant. Again, great. All my friends who had kids, were not able to go any where or do anything without it being a tremendous pain in the ass and costly, besides. I saw the bullet I was dodging and I knew I'd never be on some talk show or in some doctors office whining about my 'biological clock'. Then, again-as the years passed-I began to see what older kids can drag you into with cops, school, child services and the like. So I remained grateful to be childless. Then, about 11 years ago, I got around a kid. He was three and my boyfriends son. He was okay, except his father said to me once (and, mind you, I hadn't asked) "You'll never mean more to me than my son, so don't even try..." Nice. After we broke up, I lived with a guy who had TWO kids in his house-one of whom wasn't even his. The guy just kinda wound up saddled with this boy. The only connection the adult male had with this kid was that the kid was his daughter's brother. (Same mom, different Dad..) Both of these kids, thanks to their mutual mother, had been in 'the system' and were royally fucked up for it. They'd both been put in foster care for a while and were involved with CPS and all kindsa stupid shit. They were wrecked by the time I got there and it did not work out well. I wanted to help, I just didn't have the knowledge or experience, not to mention I was a little mentally fucked up myself at the time. Now...there's Eric, Jr.
If I have ever wanted to get it right, now is that time. If there was ever an age when that would be impossible, this would be that age. He's 14. Gonna be 15 in September. If I don't kill him, first...lol. No, it's not THAT bad, yet...but he's got me nervous. And, I don't mean scared of HIM, I'm scared that if he keeps up with his recent behavior, I'm not going to like him anymore. Which would be 97 kinds of bad.
A bit of background on me-I hate liars. Of all the times in my life that I've been hurt or fucked over, being lied to or about was involved in 99% of it. Consequently, I've learned to avoid, whenever possible, asswits who lie, steal, and cause needless drama. I tell the truth to a fault. I'd rather look like an ass by telling the truth than be one by lying, ya know? Another thing I will no longer allow to happen is Eric Sr. being shat upon or fucked with by anyone, for any reason. I realize I can't keep it ALL off him, but what I can, I will. This comes from 4 years of knowing what he was being put through every day by his ex-cunt and feeling powerless to do anything about it. Honestly, I don't care who ya are...if you try to hurt Eric Sr., I'll turn on ya faster and more viciously than a rabid woodchuck. I'd rather people do that shit to me...it hurts me less that way. Besides, I've got untapped resources that can probably take care of most of the shit that would be thrown my way. But, fuck with Eric and you're slime to be scraped off my boot.
Now I see a problem building up a head like a hurricane on a weather map.
Eric Jr. has been a good kid the whole time I've known of him. The worst thing he used to do to make me want to strangle him was to come into the milking parlor, noisier than hell and running, when I was under some stupid cow, infusing a teat or something equally as dangerous. Lord, that used to annoy the hell outta me...but, I never even said anything, because-again-I knew what his home life was like. I still do. It sucks on toast.
When his Dad and I first got together, we explained everything to Eric Jr. We told him the truth as opposed to the bullshit his mom was feeding him. You could tell he felt better about the whole thing and for a long time, in spite of his useless mother, he was doing okay. Then she moved him into Gloucester City, NJ. It is a slum. A ghetto. A horrible place for an adult to try to live, let alone a kid. Since then, his behavior has gone to hell in a bucket. And, we ARE NOT enjoying the ride...(Love you, Jerry Garcia!).
It started at the very end of the school year. He and some 'friends' of his broke into a warehouse, got to screwing around with a tow motor and damn near cut Jr.'s finger off. They got him home and all LIED about it. Assholes. His visit was postponed for a while because of that. Doctor's visits and such. Then, he finally gets here and the first week was okay. Then, he went to hang around with the kids on this farm one fine evening and came back home BALD!!! They decided he should have a shaved head and he does. STUPID. Besides, it looks like shit. We had a loooong talk with him about that. About having the balls and brains to say "NO" when people start doing stupid shit. About not doing things when your parents aren't there, that you wouldn't do if they were. He said, tearfully I might add, that he understood what we were saying and why. Then, about 3 days later, we caught him with CIGARETTES that he STOLE from me. Ten minutes after that, we found the cigarettes his best friend from here on the farm had stolen from George.
Well, his ass was grass after that. Grounded, curfew, another "talk", more tears...a mess. We made damn sure he knows that we are not going to tolerate this shit. And, why. So, he goes back to Jersey and I heave a sigh of relief.
Since he's been home, he and his retarded friends broke into that warehouse again and this time, were picked up by the police.
So, how much would YOU say he's learned?
In the meantime, his best friend up here got his ass in hot water again, too. He was grounded from the cigarette theivery and decided to go out to an early morning breakfast with his sister. From 11:00pm til 3:00am. When asked what he was told about doing stupid shit, he replied "Yeah, I knew I'd get in more trouble, but I wanted to go anyway..." And, he's still alive. His father showed exceptional restraint, wouldn't ya say? I'd have killed him where he stood.
If those two anecdotes are not just a longer way of saying "Fuck you, Dad", I'd like to know what they are...Brain damage, maybe?
At this juncture, I'm going to try posting this and continue in a minute. If Blogger ate the other one 'cause it was too long, I'd like to avoid that, this time. If Blogger eats THIS one, I'm gonna eat this computer.
With ketchup.
Peace.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:59 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
August 02, 2003
Help needed...badly
Until such time as you see the POW-MIA image on my first page somewhere in the vicintiy of the title, take it for granted that I NEED HELP. I right clicked and saved this image and I don't know how to put it in the template. Is there a way to convert an image into html? Or what? Also, if anyone has any tips or hints about removing temp files and thus speeding up the computer, please let me know. One last thing...does 'Scan Disk' just die after a while? Or might it just need to be turned back on, re-downloaded...or what? When the scan disk thing runs now, it says there are damaged parts (or whatever) and when you go to let it run and 'fix' it, it just sits there. Sigh. Again, any hints or tips would be greatly appreciated.
Peace to ya...(I wanna say "Peace ON ya", but I'm sure that would be taken wrong...) lol
Posted by: Stevie at 11:42 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
WTF?
A long time ago, when I first found out about blogs, a post by a sanctimonious woman irritated the shit outta me and I proceeded to say so. I was in a foul mood to begin with and her post sounded so self-righteous that I acted like a troll before I even knew that they existed or what they were. Found out the hard way, you could say. Now, I've seen a new undefined-as-yet word used in association with myself and a particular blog. One was in jest, the other was uncalled for, I think. Just what is "stalking"? I've seen where some people have that designation at the bottom of posts, like one for comments and one for stalkers. I am also familiar with what the term means out in the real world- but, how do you "stalk" someone on a computer? Especially when you weren't even on line for the previous 11 days? I don't mind being blamed for shit I actually do, but this is getting on my nerves. Where are the real rules for this shit? Where is the damn dictionary to define the words and phrases (and behaviors) in this 'blogosphere'? If someone hasn't already written this stuff out, I will. I didn't see any user manuals for blogging, ya know. Hell, I found out about blogs by searching the phrase "my ex-wife is a cunt". (I was trying to see if there are any other women as absolutely evil and psychotic as my fiancees ex.) There are. (Which, by the way (Dawn), is reason enough for men not to trust women...lol) Anyway, I was directed to this one site, which I quickly came to read a lot and I've trial-and-errored, hunted-and-pecked and blindly groped my way along....to here. I do not know personally anyone else who does this. Nor have I met anyone from online...
I'm new to all this. I'm not trying to be a troll or a stalker or rapist or burglar or car thief or purse snatcher or any other kind of pain in the ass. If I DID put my mind to it, you'd know. We'd ALL know. And, I'd admit it.
So, please, someone: define "stalking" and any other traps I should know about. Thank you.
Peace to ya...
Posted by: Stevie at 11:30 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 29, 2003
Some things never change...
I am still being frustrated beyond reason by my ineptitude, here. There is a lady named Margi who has a blog (Check blogroll) and she has the POW-MIA "You are not forgotten" symbol on her page. About a month ago, I asked her if I could put it here. She said "Sure. Just right click it and click on 'Save as' and..." I THOUGHT I saved her email in my 'Saved mail' folder. I was cross-eyed and beat at the time, so I thought I'd do it later.
Well, I went there today, right clicked, saved and came back to my saved mail to find that I can't find her Email about what to do next. So, (sigh) it's off to ask Kevin....again...
I also cannot find my favorites list and there are a few other things just different enough to be weird. I'll figure it out.
I hope.
I'm intending my next post to be about things that DO change and not for the better, it seems. Thank God, I already know it's temporary. But, it's still pissin' me off....and proving AGAIN that men are RIGHT not to trust women.
Posted by: Stevie at 07:00 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Now what?
My favorites list is gone. Strange. It was here an hour ago...sigh. Oh well, time to start a new one I guess.
Posted by: Stevie at 05:26 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 28, 2003
Hey there, Hi there, Ho there
I'm back. Without AOHell. I've done followed Acidman again and switched to Earthlink. I've got a lot of reading and catching up and saying "Hi" I wanna do, so come on back later. In the meantime, maybe I'll see ya somewhere on another blog...No matter what, rest assured-I will be back. Soon.
Posted by: Stevie at 11:37 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 17, 2003
Now, I'm back to "normal" problems...
Have been for the last coupla days. This computer is old, but it is also free. However, it is also slower than STP oil treatment running uphill in February. Every so often (too often) I have to delete temp files. People have tried to tell me how simple this is supposed to be. Well, it ain't. The only way I know of to actually have any improvment in the speed with which this computer goes from one page to the next, is to go into it and delete the (stupid #@$%&*?!!) temp files one at a GDF time. I've seen the "select all" thing, but I don't know what it has to keep and what is safe to dump. Knowing my luck, if I found a way to do this in less than 4 days, there'd be nothing left in the computer at all, including the entire Internet. So, please, either forgive me for being gone so long, or send me some simple, child-like, easy-for-blondes- instructions on how to get rid of these asshat files and get scan disk and disk defrag to work. Why did they design computers to keep temp files in the first place, if ya don't actually need 'em and all they're good for is plugging up the works? Sigh.....
Posted by: Stevie at 02:28 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 14, 2003
I've got a great problem...for a change...
Yesterday morning, before I posted my "25 ways", I checked out the site meter and saw that I had 74 (or so) visits, so far. I remember thinking that it would be cool if I were to break 100 within 24 hours. I did the post, did my visiting rounds , then went and got a bunch of house stuff done. I came back several hours later, checked site meter and saw that I had knocked the hell out of 100, somehow. I went to the referral page and felt my heart seize when I saw page after page of referrals from Gut Rumbles. My first thought was that my computer finally lost it's mind and was linking to Rob and probably driving him nuts. I went on over there to see what was up. I was a little nervous that there might be a post about this 'tons of links' deal. I started reading and came to the "Lists" post. He said "I kinda like this one.", so I figured it would be good and clicked it. And, wound up back here!
Oh. My. God.
He linked me! As I sat here letting that sink in, it occured to me that this must mean HE READS THIS. (Gulp!) Wow.
The thing that is shocking me the most is the site meter. I checked it a lttle while ago and I can't believe it's over 400.
99.9% from Gut Rumbles, too. Here is where I came up on my uniquely wonderful 'problem'.
What can I possibly do to say "Thank you" to Rob for this? Pointing out that he's over on the right, at the top of my blogroll, or linking him is going to be preaching to the choir. The people who have been here in the last 24 hours already know about him. I've said before that I was going to have a baseball hat made with "www.GutRumbles.com" on it. Well, now I am. There's a place in South Jersey called Cowtown. On the flea market days, there is a guy named Jeff there who does that kind of stuff. So, I'm gonna do it. Black mesh hat with red letters. Hey! Maybe I should get two made and send Rob one....hmmm. I like that idea. ;-)
By the way, I don't just mean that I want to thank Rob for all the hits. I also want to thank him for giving me a little somethin' to live up to. And for being one of the best examples of balls, brains, courage, humor and grit I've had to follow in way too long a time. He says he saved his own life by starting his blog. Well....I believe that his was not the only one. When I started reading Rob, back in January, I was in the midst of some of the worst depression I've ever dealt with. Gut Rumbles was the first thing I had been actively interested in, in months. I just read for the first few months, then I started to leave a comment or few, here and there. Then, six weeks ago, I started trying to blog at that other site. When I finally realized what that place was really about ($$$), I nearly quit. But, thanks for the most part to the strength I get from watching Rob keep on keepin' on, I kept on, too.
Not only have I continued blogging, I care enough about things to be losing weight (9 lbs. so far) and I'm slowly starting to be able to figure some things out. I do have a few tough ones that I will be writing about shortly, but, still-things are definitely better now than they were before I found Rob and blogging.
So, Thank You, Rob. Wanna know something? The reason I haven't posted your questions and my answers yet is because I was stuck on trying to explain my answer to the first one. Yes, I do have personal heros. Two of them. Buford Pusser and Rob Smith. Now that I've been able to articulate some of Rob's impact on my life, I can give my reason for my choices of personal heros by simply stating "They both LIVED tall." I respect and admire both of those men. The things that were done to each of them breaks my heart and makes me wish I could change things for them somehow. I've been saying for years that I love Buford Pusser. And I do. Hell, I drove all the way from Jersey to Adamsville, Tn. just to see the Buford Pusser museum, which is in the house he lived in. So, if someday, I slip and say I love Rob, too, please try to understand that it comes from the respect and admiration and from wishing I could keep anything else bad from happening to him. I just love 'im like he's one of the best friends I've had in a while. 'Cuz, he is.
Posted by: Stevie at 11:36 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 13, 2003
And now for something completely different...
I used to work the night shift all by myself at the largest dairy farm in South Jersey. My hours were anywhere from 5:00/7:30pm til 4:30am/noon, depending on what was happening in the morning. I worked there for 5 years. During that time, I learned a few things. Not the least of which were "25 ways you can tell you've been dairy farming too long". (I came up with these during the course of a shift one night and wrote them down that morning.)
1. Everytime you go to touch your wife's boobs, you expect her to kick at you and shit on the floor.
2. You begin to refer to women as "two-titters".
3. You serve dinner from atop a tractor.
4. You 'sweep' the floors in your house with a power hose.
5. You feed your infant with a calf bottle.
6. You keep trying to check glasses of milk for mastitis.
7. Any time you see a 3 or 4 digit number, you know exactly which cow it is.
8. Your kids use paint sticks instead of crayons in their coloring books.
9. You find yourself using the 3-wheeler to get from the couch to the bathroom.
10. You hear yourself refer to your bedroom as "the breeding pen".
11. Your kitchen becomes known as "the feed lot".
12. When the co-op, vet/Animal Medic and Dairy Service are listed BEFORE 911 on your emergency numbers list.
13. The Animal Medic rep is your family physician.
14. When, if YOU have the runs, you call it "Jhonies"- if your KIDS have them, you call it "scours".
15. You start coming up with interesting crafting ideas involving cow shit.
16. Your kid takes milk weight charts and mastitis samples to school for show-and-tell.
17. Seeing a woman with big hooters makes you think only of potential milk production capabilities.
18. You start referring to your pecker as a "breeding needle".
19. You think the alphabet has only four letters-A, B, C and D.
20. Math involving numbers greater than "4" gives you a headache.
21. You own two pairs of barn boots-'every day' and 'dressup'.
22. You have formal portrait photos/glamour shots taken wearing a semen company baseball cap. (I did this one
myself...)
23. You think that "Playboy" is published by a man named Hugh Heifer.
24. You think that Sandra Bullock is a male bovine with a dumb name.
And, finally-
25. You refer to your in-laws as "the herd".
Obviously, these will make more (twisted) sense to someone with a dairy farming background, but, there are a few that are pretty general. If anybody wants to know what the heck I may be talking about in one of the lines, feel free to ask.
And, if anyone would like to know if I'm at all dain bramaged, that would be a "yes".
I'll be back...
Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 03:08 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
If there is any truth
to the "six degrees of seperation" thing then it stands to reason that somebody who knows somebody who knows somebodywho knows somebody who knows somebody who knows Micky Dolenz might read this....If you do know Micky and you do read this, would you please let him know that I just adore him to pieces? He's ALWAYS been my favorite Monkee, I bought and have read at least 100 times, his book "Monkees, Music and Madness", I have several alternate Yahoo ID's one of which is Mickymonkeegirl63, every time I do karaoke I sing "I'm a Believer" and I bought two actual photos of him from some guy in a parking lot at a Dwight Yoakam concert. I am also one of the few people who actually taped "Head". I just would like for him to know I exist. Thank you... (I feel much better now.)
Posted by: Stevie at 09:44 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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