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caughtintheXfire

October 22, 2006

Here it is, I found it....

Now, keep in mind, this was written before Paul clued me in about paragraphs and writing more like I speak, with breaks for breaths and all.
And, I only hadda dig through about two and half months of the silliest fuckin' achives I've ever read.
Jesus.

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. Yay!
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. Whoa.
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.

Next up, or down, since I'm going to manipulate the posting time so it shows up under this one, is the first thing I posted that Rob ever linked, entitled...
"You may have been dairy farming too long if..."

Back in a minute.

Posted by: Stevie at 01:18 AM | Comments (223) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

My first Acidbath...

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 01:17 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

October 21, 2006

Well...

I guess it's good that Rob got his when he did then, huh?

(And, yes, yes... I'm gonna go get dressed and go to the store right now. Gotta have that FARK fix first, though...)

Posted by: Stevie at 04:30 PM | Comments (12) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Okay... my heart rate seems stabilized now...

Jesus Christmas.

Remember what I said about the laundry still all being there when I got back to it?
How warn't nobody around here gonna do any of it-n-shit?
Remember how utterly convinced I was of that?

Well, that conviction, plus the fact that about half of what was left to do was MISSING when I got up, damned near gave me "the big one, Liz'beth..."
*staggers around, clutching chest*

I knew when I finally corked off this morning that there was still about three or so loads left, one of which would include the "PRCA" shirt Jr. asked me about the other day.

I go in the bathroom and before I even took a whiz, I nearly shit because I noticed immediately that all those clothes were... just gone.

My first thought was, "Jr.'s shirt! He's gonna kill me..."

I even did what I never do and checked in his room.
(While there I also scooped up the newly forming MOUNTAIN of dirty clothes...
*rolls eyes*)

I didn't see the PRCA shirt.
(By the way, PRCA, for those poor city folk is Professional Rodeo Cowboy's Ass'n., which both Jr. and Sr. are a member of...)

Anyhoo... no shirt in there.
No shirt in the dirty clothes.
No shirt anywhere that I see.
(Not to mention about 2/3 of a load of dirty work clothes...)

I'd just woken up from a dream where I was a moron and had about $80 bucks stolen from me. I don't know where it was that this happened, I didn't recognize the location, but my Dad was there, trying real hard not to look at me like I was stupid for leaving all my shit sitting outside my car, next to the chainlink fence.
(Don't ask me, man.... looked like a rest stop or something. Stupid dream.)

So, I wake up and gratefully realize that I'm not out $80, my Dad isn't finally convinced that I'm a 'tard (well, maybe he is, but that's a whole 'nother post, ain't it? *giggle*) and, like I said, I go into the bathroom and discover the absence of this laundry.

After a few minutes of increasingly more frantic lookin' around, I finally came downstairs and stepped outside in my robe and saw Jr. and George working on something in front of the garage.

I hollered over to 'em, "Hey... I know this is gonna sound completely insane, buuuut... has anybody been doing anything different in the bathroom today?"

Jr. grinned and raised his hand.

Me: "Liiiike laundry?"

He nods, still grinning.

Me; "Ohthankgawd... scared the shit outta me, man. I went in there and saw all that shit gone and all I could think was "Jr's shirt!". I even looked in your room, Dude. I also swiped all those dirty clothes you had in there, but, MAN... I just had this dream... blah, blah, blah... then I wake up and your shirt is gone... Gawd..."

By the time I'd gotten this far, he and George both were laughin' at me...

Then, it hits me....

Somebody besides me actually did a load of laundry!
*cue Fred Sanford imitation*

Ho-ly shiT (a la Bluto Blutarsky), ya know?

Miracles do happen and not just on 34th St.

And, now that I'm sufficiantly recovered, or getting there, I need to run to the store.
"They" are outta soda and I want more OJ.
Maybe I'll get some kinda cornbread mix or whomp biscuits too, to go with the (metric ton of) chicken potpie I'll be making later.
And Coffeemate.
Gotta remember I need that, too.
(Yes, Mad Wm. I do hear you saying "List, woman... make a LIST", in my head... *giggle*)

*about a minute later*

Done.
Made the list.
You'd think I could remember three whole things, huh?

Psh.

As if that'll be the only shit I get.
I know me.
I'll think of another 5 or 6 things, then forget the original three.
I've done it before.

See? I just remembered another thing... Tyler food.
*scribble, scribble, scratch*
And now, it's on the list, too.

Okay then.
I'm outta here.

And, if anybody wants any chicken potpie (with made-from-scratch dumplings, though I didn't grow the chicken... pets="not food", remember?), feel free to stop by.
God knows, I'll have enough of this shit to feed about half the guys who were in the Civil War... yeah, THE CONFEDERATE HALF.
*plucks Confederate battle flag outta the "Lone Star" long-neck beer bottle it lives in on top of the computer desk and begins waving it proudly*

Peace, y'all...

Posted by: Stevie at 04:07 PM | Comments (41) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Too cool...

Remember how I'm always saying that if I make it to the bank on time on Friday, it makes a biiiig difference?

Well, I knew it made a difference between the money being available "sometime Saturday" and frickin' Tuesday.

But, check this shit...
I just now decided to check to see if, by ANY chance, it was already there... and it is.
I am so happy....
I just paid the DirecTv bill and it said it'd be back on within an hour, which is totally cool, because, anymore, I have a hard time sleeping without the TV on.

Matter of fact, that's what woke me up... yesterday? Yeah, yesterday morning.

I woke up one time to go pee and there was Hoss Cartwright. (On the TV, not in my bathroom...)
Then, the next time I woke up, it was because it was too quiet.
I looked at the TV and just said, "Aw, poop people. Ya couldn'ta gave me another 24 hours, huh? Whatever..."

I mean, I knew it was due.
Matter of fact, I got the stupid bill outta the mailbox yesterday afternoon.
(Nothing like interrupting the service before the bill arrives, hey DirecTv?)
*lol*
I was hopin', however, that the timing would cooperate and I'd get the money before they got pissy, but.... didn't happen.

But but, it's all good.
It's paid and it'll be back on before I go lay down.

Now, for the car insurance, cell phone bill, landline bill, groceries, etc., etc., etc.
Oh, yeah.. and heating oil.
*rolls eyes*

It never ends.
(Ask Sam Kinison. Remember that riff of his about the dead guy in the mortuary getting boned up the poop chute? "IT NEVER ENDS!!!! AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!" God, I love Sam... *lmao*)

Aaaanyway....

About 92 and half seconds after my last post, Cogburn decided it was time to start crowing. Loudly. Here. In the living room.

Gawd.

He went outside and I gave him some bread to give him something else to do with his mouth.

I get back in here and Foghorn decides to live up to his name.
*sigh*
Out he went, too.
Got his bread and he was happy.

Then, Donnie got all lippy, so she got some, too.

And, now, Gonzo, my most dain bramaged cat is sitting in my lap, biting the hell outta me because I had the NERVE to rearrange him because my leg was falling asleep the way I had it and he was sleepin' on it.
(Hence, the name "Gonzo"...)

QUIT BITIN' ME, YOU FUCKNOZZLE!

Goddamned cat...

And... I have yet another ~~testicle~~ technical question for y'all....

What could make a dryer all of a sudden start shutting off in the middle of drying a load?
It never used to do that and, at first, I thought it was kinda cool that it'd shut off as opposed to "burst into flames", but now, I'm starting to get sick of it.
Laundry itself takes long enough without this stupid thing having nervous breakdowns every other load, ya know?

I've even been trying to be nice and giving it time between loads to cool off, catch it's breath, or what-the-hell-EVER it needs, but... it did it again after I did that and now, it's pissin' me off.

So, any suggestions or ideas?
(And, yes, the lint trap is cleaned after every load. When ya know you could find anything from a long, blue, plastic breeding glove to a friggin' CORNCOB in there, it kinda keeps ya vigilant about it. Know what I'm sayin'?)

Speaking of which (the dryer, not a corncob), it's time to go try to dry another load.
Pray for me.
Or the dryer.
One of us is probably gonna need it.

Peace

Posted by: Stevie at 05:16 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Get 'er done...

Oh, I am, believe me.

Got everything done, including mopping the kitchen floor and puttin' the rugs back down, kitty potties, dishes... just everything, except a coupla more loads of wash, and I'm doin' that as fast as the machines allow.

Damn, man.
It's about time, too.

I'm just about at the point I've been wantin' to be for over a week... the point where I can just sit around in my flannel jammies, sippin' hot chocolate.

Only thing is, now I'm all sweated up, I have chicken thawing to make pot pie and, considering the fact I'm kinda in a "kick ass on this mess" frame of mind, hot chocolate isn't a part of my thinking right this particular second.

But, it is nice to be hangin' out with Cogburn and Foghorn.
Yeah, I brought the other rooster in, too.

Cogburn is perched on the back of my chair here, and Foghorn is nestled on top of the computer desk, sleepin'... has his lil' head tucked under his wing and all.

I swear, I've got the coolest roosters....

My duck's kinda fucked up, buuuut.... whatcha gonna do?
(And, NO, I ain't gonna eat 'er, so don't even go there.)
(Believe me, I feel bad enough makin' chicken pot pie with these two in here. And, I didn't even know the chicken I'm gonna be using. I've said many times, that had I lived in the time of "Little House on the Prairie", I'd have either starved to death or become the world's first vegetarian, because I ain't eatin' any animal that I know personally. Once I feed it, it's a pet and pets ain't food.)

Anyhoo....

I have two questions.

First one is... why does my Helter Skelter DVD start by itself?
You don't hafta push "play"... ever.
And, when it's done, it starts over all by itself, too.
None of my other ones do that.
How does it?
(oo-ee-oo... *giggle*)

Next...
If the white coating inside your microwave is flaking off, does that mean ya need a new one?

Okay then.
Time for another cuppa coffee and to start the (shhh!) chicken boiling.
Maybe.
I might just do the pot pie later.
I am kinda tired.
But, I do still have those coupla loads of wash to do....

Ah, fuck it.
Ain't like they ain't gonna be sittin' right there, waiting for me when I wake up.
Ain't like anybody else around here'd do 'em.
*siiiigh*

Men.
Ya gotta love 'em, 'cause if ya didn't, you'd kick their asses.

Peace, y'all....

Posted by: Stevie at 03:00 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

October 20, 2006

Y'okay, why not?

It's not like it's gonna hurt anything.
I mean, it's not like I've cleaned anything yet.
Hell, it's only been about 3 minutes since my last post...

I was just finishing that last post and Ziggy Bigmouth started barking.
I head on out to see what the hell he's barking at now and it was actually something...
Donnie the duck beating the shit outta one of the roosters.

Cogburn, to be precise.

I don't know who started it, but Donnie was on top of Cogburn and Cogburn's comb is bleeding and the duck had blood all down the front of herself, so I concluded that Cogburn was losing and now he's sitting here, on my thigh, as I type.

I used a tissue on his comb to get the blood off and it seems to have stopped actively bleeding, thank God.
And, he just hopped off my leg and is currently stalking around on the floor, being closely followed by one of the few cats around here who doesn't quite know what to make of him.
She keeps tentatively reaching out a paw to touch his butt and if she doesn't stop that, he's gonna....
Never mind.
He just did peck her and she swatted back at 'im rather half-heartedly and sat down.

Now that that's settled, he's pecking around by the parrot cage, which always has various bird food on the floor around it.
Including popcorn.
Murphy loves his popcorn ("natural", no butter flavor).
But, I think he loves to fling it hither and yon more than he loves eatin' it.

Cool.
Now, Cogburn is cleaning his feathers.
Now I know he feels better and is okay.

And now, I'm gonna go clean the house.
And, Donnie's cage.
I think it's about time that dumb duck gets locked up.
Before I hafta settle this "who's in charge" shit and kick her ass myself.
Dumb damn duck...

Posted by: Stevie at 05:04 PM | Comments (14) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Would you believe....

I still have this cold?
Chris'sakes, man.

I've had boyfriends not last this long.

Nose, head and ears are still stuffed.
Coughing is still risky, 'cause once I start, it takes an act of God, or a menthol cigarette, to make it stop.
This house... gawd.
Totally trashed.

Oh, and speaking of cigarettes...
I went out to the parlor earlier to get Sr. to sign his check so I could get 'em deposited in time and I saw the Boss out there. (No, not Springsteen...)

Anyway... I said "Hi" to 'im and told him not to get too close as I have "the cold from hell" and didn't wanna pass it on.
He says, "I see you have your cough drops", pointing to my hand.

I looked, much like the RCA Victor dog, at what I was carrying and he taps on my cigarette box and said, "Bet they help, huh?"

I just shook my head and laughed and didn't even bother to try to explain that, yeah, sometimes they do.
Mostly because if I hadn't had it happen before, I'd not believe they do quell coughing fits and I can't explain how it is they do that, either.
But, they do.
Sometimes.

Know what else?
A year ago today was the last post Rob did before he went into Willingway.
I remember that.
Quite clearly.
I wrote him every single day he was in there and I still have the letters he wrote back to me.

And, it's four days short of four months since his last post, period.
Six days short of.... the day the world became that much more a cold and lonely place to be.

This is one light that, when it was extinguished, makes the "Great Northeastern Blackout" look like a match being blown out by comparison.

I think the only light that might be noticed more if it went out would be the sun.
And, that's only a "maybe".

*a minute or so later*

Okay.
Gonna go clean this house now.
Or, raze it and rebuild.
Which very well could be easier.....

Peace, ya'll.

Posted by: Stevie at 04:30 PM | Comments (13) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

October 17, 2006

My God, man...

Paul Le Mat is still as hot as a fully engulfed house fire.

The first thing I ever saw him in was "American Graffiti" and, oh boy, I was in love from his first scene.
Then, I saw him in "The Burning Bed".
Still love the guy.
(I'm not much of a Farrah fan anyway...)

Just a few minutes ago, I got done watching another movie he did in 2004 called "The Long Shot" and that man is still every bit as gorgeous now as he was when he did "Graffiti".

Jesus.

I wish I'd age half as well as he has.

Posted by: Stevie at 11:09 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Ugh, am I still alive?

Kinda hard to tell.
If I am, I almost wish I weren't, and if I'm not, I'm obviously in HELL, this cold is such a miserable fuck to hafta deal with.
(Or, is that me?)

Not even Nyquil is making a dent.

And, it is moving through the ranks around here, too, just like I said it would.
Sr. has it now, too.
George'll be next.

Then, can we PLEASE be done with shit?
ForEVER?

*rolls eyes*
Psh... I wish.

Dear Whomever Gave Me This Cold,
Fuck you. Fuck your Mom. Fuck your Dad. Fuck your brothers, sisters, Aunts, Uncles, cousins and pets.
You suck harder than an industrial ShopVac.
Sincerely, from the depths of my soul,
me

"The so called "SuperFlu" does. not. exist."- General Wm. Starkey in "The Stand".

Um, Billy-boy?
Yeah, it does.
Not only did it exist in the movie, but, it is also currently inhabiting my chest and head.
And, it's worse than the one y'all faced, 'cause at least that one would go on and kill ya.
This one won't.
Noooo.
This one you have to live with, day after day, week after week and what's next?
Month and after month?

Ye Gods, man.

And, while I'm at it....

Thank you ever so much, all you hopheaded teenaged douchebags who insist on abusing the "decongestant" ingredients in cold meds, so that NOW, those of us who NEED it, can't have it.
I hope y'all manage to snort yourselves straight up your own noses, or into early graves, all of you.
Wouldn't be anything more that "thinning the herd", you shitstains.
I hate you all right now (and I ain't much fond of ya's when I'm NOT sick, either).

So, yeah... this cold sucks.
Can ya tell?
*siiigh*

In other news....

Thank you, Viz, Bob and Jim L. for all the wonderful, interesting info about the Civil War.
Jim L. sent me a link to the PBS Ken Burns page and that took me a nice long while to go through, there's so much good stuff there.
And, Bob... is your buddy still around here? I'd love to have him show me what he showed you.
Or, YOU show me what he showed you... *grin*
That'd be wicked cool, getting to meet you.
And, Viz... wow, man.
You know a LOT about this and the way you present it makes me wanna keep reading.
It's all but an outright disappointment to get to the end of your comments and emails.
Very much like Stephen King's writing, I don't want it to end yet, no matter how long it's gone on so far.
("Yet" meaning "ever", pretty much... *giggle*)

You, Viz, bring those guys to life, almost.
The cool little details that you know about 'em, the way you tell the story...
Man.

Can I just wrap up in a blanket with a mug of hot chocolate and listen to you for a really long time?
With a campfire in the middle of the battlefields would be awesome, but, with this cold I have, I'm also willing to drag a fire barrel into the house here and do this in the living room... *grin*

Speaking of which, a fire barrel would probably make it a tad bit warmer in here, too.
Not that it's that cold, but, we are gonna hafta break down and get heating fuel this pay period.
Damn it.
Although, last night, I was outside, feeding the rabbit, and it was nice out.
And, I was in my men's flannel pj's and cat-slippers.
(Which probably isn't helping with this cold, huh? Duh. *laughing at my own stupid self*)
'Course, I wasn't out there that long and the rabbit is on the back porch under a roof and all... still.

Besides which, if I have heating oil at the ready, it won't actually get cold for another month or more.
This I know.
Anything I'm ready for doesn't happen.
It's only shit that can sneak up on my ass and catch me unaware that does that.

*coupla minutes later*

Well, okay.
This oughta be interesting.

George is home from work early due to the rain and after about six minutes of hearing me coughing, wheezing and bitching, he brought me two tiny red pills.
Decongestants of some kind.
Told me to take 'em both.
So, either I'll be able to breathe soon or I'll be so fulla energy I'll be waxing the HOUSE.

Meanwhile, I oughta get my ass in gear, even if it is "low" gear and try to get something started, finished or moved along.

There's still some laundry.
A few dishes.
A coupla kitty potties (and when better to do them than when you have no sense of smell?).
Plus, I wanna get that ham in the oven.
These days, I'm alllll about cooking shit that'll last a day or two so I don't hafta being doing this shit every damned day, ya know?

Hmmm....
chicken pot pie is a good "lasts a few days" kinda thing.
Need some lima beans, though.

Well, I can just get them when I drag George to the store with me later.
Need more oj.
And bread, I think.
Somthing else, too, but....
It'll come to me.
And, I should write it down when it does, too.
My head is so plugged, I can barely think, let alone remember shit.

ugh.

Anyhoo...
I'm off to do... something.
Something in addition to coughing, sneezing, wheezing and being miserable because of this cold.

Talk atcha's later...

Peace

Posted by: Stevie at 02:24 PM | Comments (12) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

October 16, 2006

Unbelievable....

Over the past five years, I've gotten kinda used to pulling odd things out of the lint trap in the dryer, thanks to Eric.

Over the years, I've found:

Candy wrappers
Pop-Tart wrappers
Nails
Screws
Sockets
Rubber gloves
Breeding gloves
Semen straw sheaths
Paper towels
Bull-calf ball rubberbands
Pens
Paint sticks
Vials of cow medicine
Syringes for cow medicine
Automatic milker parts
Car parts
Small hand tools
Etc.

You name it, chances are he's left it in his pockets and I've pulled it outta the lint trap, right?
Right.

Well, folks, he just topped himself.

When I took this last load outta the dryer, I found a CORN COB in my lint trap.

A CORN COB!
And, no corn- just the cob.

I don't even think I wanna know why he had one in his pocket.

I've worked on dairy farms since high school and I can't think of one single reason to have a corn cob in my pocket.
Let alone leave it in there to be washed.
AND dried.
(I tried folding it with the rest of his stuff, but it broke.)

*lmao*

And, silly me... I thought I'd seen everything last weekend at the Apple Harvest Festival when I saw that Asian Amish guy.
(Yeah, an Asian Amish man. 100% Asian features, except for the beard with no moustach and the traditional Amish men's clothes and hat, the totally Amish wife and requisite half-dozen kids.)

Is it any wonder I'm almost completely nuckin' futz?

*wanders off, muttering, "A corn cob in my lint trap... sheesh..."*

Posted by: Stevie at 02:21 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

October 15, 2006

Okay, I can't take anymore...

for now, anyway.

I've been sittin' here all day, so far, trying to find concise and intelligent information about the battle in Gettysburg.

I have NOT found any, except in my own comments, thank you again Viz.

All I find online is links and more links which are mostly about how to get to G'burg and pay for tours.
Though, I did find one Yahoo group about the CSA which kinda scared me.
Freaks.

Anyway, after having numbed my ass waiting for this slow-assed, stupid computer to get MOVING and having popped around to a few other places NOT having to do with the war (gotta have that FARK fix, man *grin*), I have decided that today is the day.

Still sick or not (and I am), I am gonna clean this house.

I've even already started the laundry.

I have the house to myself, a new pot of coffee workin', I've changed into "real" clothes and I'm just gonna get it done.

"Git 'er done!!!"

However...
I do have one thing to say, to repeat really, that'll seem outta left field to most, but, it bears repeating anyway.

Anybody, at any time, can do whatever they feel is necessary, especially to, about or with themselves.
BUT, if ANYBODY starts in on Rob, saying stupid shit that'd make him puke or shit that's an outright lie, I will react. I will do whatever I have to do to make it stop.
Or, prove it wrong.

That's what I do.
That's what I always did when he was alive.
I will continue to do this until I'm dead and, knowing me, for a few years after that, too.

I'm not going to apologize for it and I'm not going to stop doing it.

And, frankly, I don't care what he said or did before.
I care about what he said and did the day before he died.
That's where I'm coming from these days.
That's where he left off and I pick up, or actually just continue, albeit with innumerable times more the determination I had when he was alive.
And, ya know how bad I was to do that then...

I know what I read, I know what I was told and I trust Rob's REAL friends, the people who knew him for years and years and years, more than anybody else when it comes to him.

He made his feelings perfectly clear.

And, I think I have too.

sacrosanct- adj. reverenced or respected and therefore secure from violation or damage....

To me, Rob is the first half of that definition.
And, I will see to the second half.

Now and forever.
Against anyone.
Okay?
Clear?
Goooood.
(/of sermon)

Now... where's that Def Lep CD?

Posted by: Stevie at 03:56 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Oy, my head....

Went right from the comments on the last post to both Amazon and Ebay and....
like I said... "my head". As in: "hurts now"... *grin*

Okay.
Here's the Amazon listing.

And, here's Ebay.

Which way would you guys go with this?

(And, while I'm at it... does anybody already have this that they can make a copy of it for me?
I'd rather give money to one of you guys than some anonymous seller.)

Posted by: Stevie at 11:25 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

October 14, 2006

Fuck what?

Noooooooooooo!

Maaaan... (/whining)

Vaya Con Dios, Freddy...

Shit.

Posted by: Stevie at 04:06 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

At the risk of sounding like a retard....

(like I haven't done that before...)

Can somebody please give me a dumbed-down version of the Civil War (an oxymoron if I've ever heard one) that takes less time than did the battle itself?

All I know (thank you pubic school education) is that it was fought around here and we lost.

I'm aware that Lincoln was involved.
I know that his "Gettysburg Address" was writtten on a piece of scrap paper or a bag or something unusual.
I know the first half-dozen, or so, words of it.

I have tried looking this mess up online.
Gah... too much one-sidedness for me.
I have neither the patience with assholes, nor the huge bank account to pay to do the tourist trap shit uptown.

What I wanna know is... did any of it happen outside of Gettysburg?
Say, to the northeast of town?

And, I wanna know if Sam Elliot was a good guy (Confederate) in the movie or was he ~~a dick~~ Union?

Eric just bought that movie last night.
(And, I swear, it's gonna take him longer to get to see the whole thing in one sitting than it did to lose the battle in the first place... *giggle*
He started it last night and fell asleep before the first side (of the disc) ended and then, this morning, he tried it again and got started on the 2nd side, but had to go out to work before that was halfway done.)

What got me started on this was Eric's boss telling him that the movie wasn't filmed on the battlegrounds.
Like hell it wasn't.
I looked on IMDb and the few scenes I've seen, I recognize what I've driven past since we've been here.

Plus....
Add to that the fact that much of the film has been shot on the exact same locations where the actual battle had taken place 130 years earlier, and it is quickly obvious that "Gettysburg" is an indispensable piece of American History brought to life.

See?

It was too shot on the battlefields.

So... what was it really about?
'Cause, from what little I think I understand about it right now, Northerners are a buncha douchebags, basically.
Meddlin', trifilin' douchebags who needed to mind their own damned business.

My hand to God, I do not remember this being covered in History class in high school.
If it was, it wasn't covered in any meaningful way, in a way that made an impression.

What I did learn in high school that stuck was that my mom was a class one whackjob/whorebag, Salem High School "townies" were assholes, Woodstown High School rednecks were goofy fuckers and that life sucks, pretty much.
(I'm literally laughing out loud as I type this...)
But, it's true.
The bullshit I was trying to survive in my LIFE was overwhelming to the point that whatever they were teaching us was a waaaaay distant second in importance.

Sad, ain't it?
Sad but laughable, too.

My only feeble defense is that it wasn't my goddamned fault.
I didn't even get a chance to mess up that part of my own life by screwing around or being an ass.
That was being done left and right by too many others for me to need to add to it.

And, here I am, 25 years later, still paying the price...
Living in Gettysburg not even knowing what the hell the deal was with the Civil War... pathetic.

I don't get math, either.
But, that I don't care about enough to even ask.
Fuck math.
Stupid, illogical horseshit.

Anyway...
I have questions about that war.
Not the same kind of questions I have about Nam, which piss me off and make me want to hurt people, just general kinda questions, foremost of which is:
What was the frickin' point?
Slavery?
Money?
Control?
What.

And, was any of it carried out north and east of town?

(And, was Sam Elliot a good guy or a Northerner in the movie?)

And, please don't suggest that I just watch the movie and learn, because I don't know enough about it to even know what the hell I'm looking at yet.

All I know is: We lost.
And, that what happened here was instrumental in that loss.

Things I'd like to know include, but are not limited to:

Why?
Who started it?
What was the REAL point?
And, if it was about what I think it was about, are the damned stupid Yankees happy with the way things are today?

And, is it me, or is there a centuries-long pattern emerging here of the people of this country, even WITHIN this country, not being able to mind their own buisness?
And, paying extrordinarily high and unnecessary prices for not being able to do so?
(For instance, I wondered outloud the other day why this country is so friggin' concerned with what goes on halfway around the world when there are homeless, hungry and health-insurance-less people right here who need "our help" more than some other country who doesn't even want it in the first place.)

But, first... the Civil War.
We can cover this country's inability to get it's own shit in one sock before worrying about other countries shit later.

Okay.
I'm gonna shut up now and letchas answer and thank you to whomever takes on this task.
(Which, by the way, I feel, not think-FEEL, is gonna be BlogDog, primarily, though everybody is more'n welcome to add their thoughts...)

Posted by: Stevie at 02:05 PM | Comments (718) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

October 12, 2006

Well, okay then...

So, I got done my last post and George got home.
I asked him if he wanted to go to the store with me.
He did, which was good, lest I pass out from fever or something.

Went to Wally-world and Giant.

I wanted to go to Wally-world for fly swatters (yeah, fly season is over... *rolls eyes*), parrot, parakeet and hamster food and an alarm clock.
I left Wally-world with those things, plus long johns for the guys, three pairs of sweat pants, a long, black, super-soft robe and men's flannel pj's for me and Nyquil, DayQuil and Sudafed and two EXTRA LOUD alarm clocks, one for Sr. and one for Jr.
(I have yet to ever just get what I go in there for. I think I need three things and come out with twenty...)

At Giant I got four boxes of Puff's, two gallons of OJ (didn't find the man, just the liquid), Tasty-Kakes (they were on sale) and Sr.'s soda and oatmeal, plus other assorted shit.

Then, we went to the KFC out by the battle fields and got dinner.

We get home and Sr. is in, done work, and he helps unload the car and I was still rather annoyed with Jr. about this past week and his crappy attitude. We get all the shit into the house and I grab my soft new pj's and robe and go change.

I felt better just doing that.

Then, I come back down here and get some chicken and here comes Jr.
I saw him as he passed the window in the front of the house.
I prepared for more crappy attitude.

He comes in and says... (let me pause here and point out that HE'S SPEAKING), "What's good for dinner?"

I had a mouthful of chicken so I just pointed behind me, where the KFC crap was sitting.

Then, he jokes around, saying "Well, pointing doesn't tell me much..."

I'd swallowed the chicken by then, so I held up the denuded leg bone and said "This, only filled in" and he cracked up and just like that, I'm not pissed anymore.

Amazing.

I showed him the tissues, all the cold meds and the alarm clock and he showed me the two deer skulls he found out in the woods.
(Yeah. I know. But, ya gotta take these things in the spirit in which they are intended... *shudder*)

Then, Sr. was done his dinner and he... he... HE WASHED ALL THE DISHES!!!!
*swoon*
While he was doing that, we (me, Sr. and Jr.) were all watching, and laughing at, America's Funniest Videos on the TV in the kitchen.

Not a word was said about hell week or the satanic fuck who did it and that's fine.
For now.

We do need to get this discussed, but... we're all also sick of it still.
And sick, period.
Jr. now has this cold.
Sr. will be next, then George, I'll bet.

When AFV went off, Jr. got his alarm clock, a box of tissues and some Nyquil (gel caps, I can't take the taste of that shit, oughta have a friggin' worm in it, it's so strong) and said "G'night" and went to bed.

Sr. finished the dishes, then got pouty when I found a few more.
I flibbered his bottom lip with my finger and teased him about it being stuck out so far a bird could poop on it and he, half trying to be mad and half giggling, said he was tired and wanted to be done and all that "preachin'-to-the-choir" stuff.
But, he did finish 'em for me.

After he went to bed, I found a couple more that I washed myself.
I think he'd have cried if I'd have found them any sooner...

Anyway, having that pile of dishes outta my face makes me think I might actually be able to go on and get the rest of the house back.
Tomorrow, maybe.

After I ate, I took two Nyquil.
That was around 7 or 8, I think, so I'm waiting to take the next two before I go to bed.
Meanwhile, I've just been watching TV and suckin' down some OJ.
Two big mugs of it.

Now, I'm sitting in here (the living room), watching "Dark Heart, Iron Hand" and having a coupla cupcakes and a cuppa coffee.

Everybody but me is in bed.

I'll either go to bed myself soon, or clean the house.
I don't know yet.

You'd think the Nyquil would leave me no choice in that, but, I'm so sick, the Nyquil, apparently, has to use all it's resources on the cold and has nothing left with which to render my ass unconscious like it usually does.

Now, all of a sudden, I'm hot again.
Maybe the Nyquil is wearing off...
I don't know, but I'm sweating under my hair... again.
(Next, I'll be cold, then hot, then cold... grrr....)

Oh, cool... it's almost midnight.
I can take another dose of Nyquil now.
Heh... must be why I got hot, which I'm already not anymore.

Okay, I'm off to get another cuppa coffee to take the Nyquil with, then... bed, or clean?
Sleep, or night patrol against idiots?

Hmmmm...

Ah, Nyquil first, and I'll see what it does to me.
If it doesn't knock me out, I'll stay up and do something constructive.
(And, as soon as I finished that sentence, I begin yawning big enough to swallow my own head...)

Peace, y'all...

Posted by: Stevie at 10:59 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

I'm alive, but only "just barely"...

Fuckin' cold.
Not even Nyquil is making much of a dent.

Ugh.

I'm tired, congested and hot.

AND, I hafta go to the store for MANY, MANY more tissues (go invest in Puff's, quick), cold meds and OJ.
(I'll take the liquid and the man, if he's available. I'd love to have his "skills" available to me right about now... I don't have a problem with the human OJ, anyway. Never have, never will. Fred Goldman, on the other hand, needs to sit down and shut up, but that's an entirely different post... *coupla seconds later* Aw, shit... let me put it this way... if I could meet one of them, it'd be OJ, okay? Fred Goldman just squicks me out.)

Anyway... after the store, there is a "made over the last five days by six people, one of whom I hate" mess all over this house that I, alone, get to clean up.

Real nice, huh?

Pft.

Whatever.

The excellent news is that the asshole, and his buddy, is gone.
Took being threatened with State Troopers to accomplish that, but, hey... whatever it takes.
And, he was told to never come here again, so when he does, he's going to jail.
And and, if Jr. doesn't like it, there's the door, don't let the doorknob get jammed in your asshole when I slam it shut behind you.

Not only do I never want to go through anything like that again, I won't, period.
End of fuckin' story.

And, I swear to God, the next time I say "They're shit, get 'em outta here" and get argued with by Sr. about it, I'll kick his ass, too.

I knew the first time those pieces of shit came here what they were.
I was told I was wrong.
THEN, when they came back and wouldn't leave, Sr. changed his mind.
"They have to go... They're horrible... What trash..."

Yeah.

Why the FUCK didn't you fuckin' listen to me three weeks ago when I said that in the first fuckin' place?
How DARE you make me change my position, then TAKE my position after it's proved, yet AGAIN, that I was right in the first place.
How many more times do you need to have this happen before you listen to me from the gitgo, you fuckin' BONEHEAD?

No more times.
That's how many.
None.
Because I won't let that happen again.
Fuck a person learning from their mistakes, if they never do learn, ya know?

After this, I will be listened to, even if I hafta get physical to be heard.
(Locking and barring doors, sitting on people's chests while I scream in faces, that kinda shit... it would be better than what we just got put through... I promise.)

It'll never happen again.
At least not in the house I live in.
You wanna fuck up... take it on down the road and do it there.
Or, get your OWN house and do it there.
Keep it away from me or I will make you regret being born, not listening and inflicting it on me, I promise that, too.

Promise, not "threaten".
PROMISE.
And, I take my word very seriously.
You should, too...
Especially after this shit.

Christ.

Anyway, fuck that.
Fuck Jr. and his attitude til it changes and fuck this cold, too.

All I care to give a shit about right now is: store, clean the house, soak in tub, back to bed and TV.

I'll make sure these guys have what they need, but... that's about all I can do right now.
In fact, that's all I should have to do.
Ever.
These are able-bodied people I live with, after all.
But, I've found that it's easier in the long run to do all the house shit myself than it is to hafta first fix what they fuck up when they "help", then still hafta do it all myself anyway.

Less work if I just do it in the first place.
(Which is total bullshit, I know, but... this does have it's benefits and it works for me, unless I have a cold that is trying to kill me as I type... *snerk*)

So, to recap...

The lying peice of shit is gone.
It will never be here again.
The house is recoverable, if I get on it right quick.
This cold sucks donkey balls.
Gotta go to the store.

And, speaking of lying pieces of shit... Jon the Liar guy is stopping by sometime this weekend.
I just remembered that.
Fuck.
Somebody come and kill me, please.
I'll write a note for the Prosecutor for ya so ya won't get in trouble.

(Yo, God... da FUCK did I do to You? What? You think it was ME who killed Jesus, or something? How's about a BREAK here, okay? Fuck.)

Other than that pending "interlude", all I want is a clean house and everybody to leave me the hell alone til this cold fucks off.

I want my peace and quiet back.
I want my way of living my life back.
And...
I will have it.
One way or the other, I will have it.

Watch me.

Later, y'all....

Posted by: Stevie at 03:13 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

October 11, 2006

Oh, hot-damn...

Remember when I told ya's I weighed myself on the truck scale across the road and I was NOT happy with the number a while back?

Well, I just did it again and you can take... are ya ready? Y'all can take 40 freakin' pounds offa that other number I never did mention and never will.

Forty pounds.

Hell, even I'm impressed.
*grin*

So far, it sorta seems like for every ten pounds ya lose, you go one inch smaller in jeans waist size.
(I wear men's jeans, Wrangler or whatever. Most definitely not women's jeans, EVER. Shirts either. Why are most women's clothes buttons and zippers on the wrong side, anyway? They're all but backwards...)

Anyway... 40 pounds and 4 inches.

Another 40 pounds and four inches to go.
(To be healthy, not back in my 29's... )

I drop another 40 pounds and 4 inches, I'll be happy.
REAL happy.

(*whispers*- I kinda already am that... happy. *grin*)

Best part?
No ephedra or any other kinda chemical help this time.

Posted by: Stevie at 06:09 AM | Comments (46) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

October 10, 2006

And, i265 baseball it is...

Nextel hasn't even been open an hour yet and already I have a "new" phone.
Meaning: I dug around up in the attic, TWICE, last night, looking for my old i550.
Didn't find it, but, I did find three other old Nextel cells and I brought 'em all down here and fucked around with 'em til I found a phone/battery combo that would play nicely together, plugged it in and let it charge til 7am.

At precisely 7am, I called Nextel and by 7:16am, the "new" old i700 plus was fired up and ready to have alllllla my contacts entered by (my) hand, seeing as how those old farts aren't SIM card phones.

So, I sat here for almost 40 minutes pulling up info on the piece of shit i265 and entering it into the "old but works BETTER, thanks" i700+.

And, oh yes I did put Acidman in, too...
Didja think I wouldn't?
For even one second?

I did leave out a coupla people I haven't talked to in ages, or who have flaked off or proved to be utterly worthless (after about contact #25, I was gettin' tired of it, ya know?), but Acidman... he's in there.

And, just watch... now that I have George's old i700+ all hooked up and goin', my old i550 will probably fall outta the ceiling and dent my skull or something.

Hell, I'm lucky I found one of those "old" chargers that'll charge this i700+. That took two forevers in and of itself.

But, I dood it and I have a phone and a charger and that no-good, rotten, stupid, damned i265 can piss right the fark off.

Piece a'shit.

And, this cold?
Gettin' worse by the hour, I swear.
Only good thing about my current vocal range/voice is that it'd be real easy to sing with Barry White right about now.

The Bee Gees, Larry Gatlin or a female?
Fergit it.
My voice is way too deep for that now.
Prolly will be for the next two weeks.

And, I ain't cleaning nuthin', except these cat boxes, til after I go to bed for a while.
I'm so damned tired from being up in the attic, all bent over under the sloped part of the ceiling, digging through 2,914 boxes and shit and being all stressed/adrenalized/jazzed up over my useless i265 and that maroon, Jose, that I kinda feel like I'm being slowly run over by a truck as I type.

All I wanna do (is have some fun beating the ever-lovin' SNOT out of that i265), no, is really just dump these boxes, and go lay the hell down.

Which I think I'mina go do now.

So, in conclusion, Nextel i265's are total pieces of shit.
They can just suddenly stop connecting, or reading the SIM card or die... whatever this hunka shit just did.
So, don't buy one.
Don't even let Nextel give you one and, jeezus, is it any wonder they give the fuckin' things away?

Pft.
Hardly, huh?

And, if ya don't hear from me for a while, fear not.
I'm too evil to die this young and I'm probably in bed with this stupid cold or facedown in a, hopefully clean, catbox, having passed out because I didn't just go lay down, period.

I need another cuppa coffee.

Peace, peoples (she croaks)...

Posted by: Stevie at 07:20 AM | Comments (733) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Guess what?

They're still here.

BUT... after an arguement, a near fist-fight and what amounted to a group therapy session... it's actually fine.

And, guess what else?

Not only was it NOT me who almost came to blows, I'm the one who stepped outside just in time to change the situation from what it was to what it is now.

Amazing, or what?

I didn't get to that point alone, though.

First, I radioed George about it.
God, was I pissed.
Then, I did that post about it.
Still mightily pissed.
Mike commented and made me laugh.
Still mostly pissed, but him making me laugh did diffuse me to some degree.
Called my Dad at work and talked to him for about 40-45 minutes.
By then, I was down to "annoyed".

Then, I heard the four-wheeler go blasting by the house and stepped out to see who was on it and what the hurry was and it was Sr.
("Sr." is big Eric, just in case I haven't called him that here before...)

Anyway, he was royally pissed because he and one of the guys had had words and that's putting it mildly.
They're the ones who almost came to blows.
But, the guy was apologizing his ass off for his part of it and since it was Sr. and me, together, Sr. started to calm down too and we all wound up talking about it while they all had the chili THAT THERE IS STILL 42 POUNDS OF LEFT, DAMN IT, for lunch.
Then, when Sr. and Jr. went back to work, me and the two guys sat here all afternoon talking about it all and now... it's fine.

They understand us and we understand them.

(And, this is making a really long story, one that I already tried in another post that spiralled into a discussion about Rob and the assholes in his comments that last day and Sr.'s BC and gawdsomebodystopme, much shorter. I put that one to draft and started over.
*shaking head and giggling at myself*)

Maybe someday when I don't have a buncha other random shit to get out, I'll be more detailed about it all, but... I do have other news.

So I'll know when it started...
I think I'm getting one helluva cold.
I can't stop coughing once I start, my throat feels raw and my chest has that "G'wan, try to breathe, bitch" feeling in it that you just KNOW is gonna get worse.
So, in about a month when I still have this stupid cold and I get to wonderin' just when it was that this fucker descended on my hapless ass, now I'll be able to find out.
*sigh*

My Nextel phone is beggin' for it.
It is cruisin' for a bruisin', I'm tellin' ya.
It keeps giving me this "No Service" shit for no reason.
Everybody elses stupid Nextel phones are working fine, my bill is paid, there IS no reason for this, except... it's mine.
*sam elliot look*

All I can say is "Keep it up, asshole..."
And, when it does, I'll be forced to "find out for myself why it won't work", ie: use it for a baseball with my Pusser club as the bat.

I'll be up all night tonight for three reasons (none of which is "I am NUTS", thanks...):

1. I need to tweak this place. Dump some kitty potties, do some dishes, etc.

2. 5:30 yesterday morning, George heard Ziggy (the fat-mouthed fucktard) barking, so he goes to the door to see if there's anything this time and... there was. There was an SUV parked across the road with it's lights off and it's driver walking across the road toward our garage and George's truck. He hollered, "Can I HELP you?" and the bitch (it was a woman) stuttered some shit about needing directions (who the FUCK was she gonna ask, the dogs?) and spun right back around, got in her SUV and took off. I am "on patrol" now, sitting here with the front door wide open (it's not cold, either) and every time Dickweed barks, I'm going outside with my one million candlepower spotlight (It really is one million candlepower. I'm not exaggerating.) and shining it allll around and making sure Dickweed is in fact barking at his own farts, as usual. IF I find some sonofabitch fuckin' around out there, I will go after them. The cops will know who it was by the smashed out back window, if nothing else. Homey don't play that shit. Or, any other shit, in case you had a question about that.

3. Jose is being fired when he gets here this morning.

*standing ovation, involving much clapping, cheering, foot stomping and whistling*

He decided not to show up yesterday morning. Again.

Of course, part of the fault lies with "those who let him get away with this shit 42,000 times before", but... fuck that.
The sawed-off little prick bastard is OUTTA HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thank CHRIST.

Sr. will be firing him when he gets here around 5am.
I, armed with my axe handle, will be out there too, around the corner or someplace where I can see them, but Assface can't see me and if he does anything except get up and get the fuck out, liiiike maybe raises his hand to Sr. fer instance, he's dead.
His head is coming off, one way or another.

Behind me, as backup, will be Jr. and his very tall, very protective buddy.

They both want to kick the little prick's ass too, but... I get first dibs.
I've had to hold back way longer than they have, I've wanted to literally KILL this fucker for longer than they have and... I have an axe handle, BACK OFF.
His ass is MINE, sayth me.

Pantomime shootin' MY dogs, willya?
Tell 'em to "shut up, bitch"?
Tell Sr. "Fuck you" and "no" when you're told to get to work?
Call him LAZY?!?

Weeeell, doggies, little man.
You've just opened yourself up for a dose of whup-ass that your shit-stain of a Daddy shoulda been laying on you since you were in diapers.
And, since he apparently didn't, I guess now I will.
Just make one wrong move.
Do anything except get up and get out.
Please.
Do so much as raise your voice to Eric.

Just make it good... say allll the cuss words you know, be creative, because it'll be the last thing you ever say with teeth in your mouth.

Man, I've been waitin' for this day for so long...
Man, oh manischewitz.
Dis gon' be gooood.
*rubbing my hands together with a wicked gleam in my eyes, much like Stu Hart's son (not Bret, some other son. He only has about 19 of 'em... good-lookin' little booger, too, this son is) says Stu used to right before he "educated" some young punkass in his home wrestling ring in the basement*

*coupla minutes later, after a re-read*

Okay.
It's gettin' to be time to get Sr. up.
And Jr. and the buddy.

I already have the axe handle right beside me (in case we have a repeat of last night's "directions needer") and I want another cuppa coffee before this "Jose shit" goes down.

So, I too, am "outta here".
However, I, unlike Jose the Josebag Halfwit, will be back.

Meantime...

Peace, y'all.

Update @4:40am...

First thing is this: The stupid time stamp for my posts is an hour off, an hour behind the real time, so I finished that last post at 5 of 4, not three.
It is now 20 of 5 and ding, dong, the dick is gone.
He wisely chose not to even BEGIN to mess with Eric.
Of course, he also saw from the gitgo that Eric wasn't out there alone.

Jr.'s buddy never woke up, the big palooka, and Jr. was off scraping shit on a tractor, so, basically, it was just me there with Sr., but that was enough.

The little basstid started to act like he was gonna hang around for no apparent reason, then I stepped outta the shadows, into the doorway in the light, and he looked up at me and said, "Okay, Ereek, I see you, man..." and left the area.

Then, he fucked around out back for another 10 minutes or so, "getting his shit", Eric said, but, his shit is still spread over half an acre out there, so fuckall only knows what he was really doing.

And, frankly, as long as Eric is safe, as long as that jerkoff left him alone, I could not possibly care less what Jose does, up to and including dropping dead.

He is fired, he is gone.

Hallelujah and a-frickin'-MEN to that.

Next up:

"Hey, Bossman... you might wanna keep in mind and get ready for that little douchebag to try to get unemployment from ya... remember the proposed insurance fraud he wanted to pull... Yeah. Well, just be ready..."
(Somebody needs to remind him of it because that WILL be next.)

Posted by: Stevie at 02:55 AM | Comments (701) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

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