April 18, 2006
Friggin' "celebrities"...
This motherfucker is SERIOUSLY NUTS and gettin' worse by the minute.
And, this cunt...I do so hope I've had even a miniscule part in her "baggage" by repeatedly calling her a commie-sympathizin' cuntbag piece of shit.
Which... she is. These two could do the entire planet a favor by having a full-speed, head-on car crash and killing each other. I'm just sayin'...
fuckin' morons.
Posted by: Stevie at 11:45 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 17, 2006
Can I go back to work now?
I've got the house clean (and then some), the other miscellaneous shit, including the dog pen, done and it's been a fuckin' year already, hasn't it?
Posted by: Stevie at 09:01 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 16, 2006
Dogs're done...
So's the shower, the shaving and the shampooing.
So yeah, I'm sittin' here right now with my hair wrapped in a towel... trying to remember if I had anything else to say.
I like Carrie, too, unlike the Barrones. Ray's cool but his wife? Ugh, man. SuperBitch. Her, I cannot stand.
She's so icky, I feel sorry for Ray in spite of the fact the most of the shit she gets pissed about is his own fault because he's so fuckin' goofy.
He's cute enough to forgive. She's mean-lookin' enough to have exorcised. Anyway...
(man, I sure have a lot to say for not having "anything else" a second ago, huh?) King of Queens.
Gotta get my "Doug fix". Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 07:59 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
This is me today, it seems...
 (WinCE) (Small).jpg)
I not only got alla the shit on my list done, I went one better. I re-made my "patented chicken food dish holders".
They're made of clothes hangers.
Wire ones.
(See Joan? They are good for something...) Anyway, I cut the hooks off and bend 'em into a circle as big as the chicken's food dish (which are all I Can't Believe It's Not Butter dishes). Then, I twine the ends, bend that twined part upright and make the seperate ends into hooks. It's holds the dish and is hooked in the mesh of the cage. I came up with this back in Bucks.
Then, when we moved, they got lost and there is SUCH a difference cleaning out the cage trays without these holder-deals. Those dopey roosters spill more water than they drink, but now they won't be able to anymore.
Feed either. Had to fabricate four of those things. Now, I'm about to go on outside and do something with the dog pen. (Fill it in with concrete comes immediately to mind... It'd be easier, I think.) After I do that, I've got to catch the duck, the two roosters and that stupid rabbit and bring 'em in, to their clean, brand new-hayed, all fed up and waitin' houses. Then, I'd like to get a shower, shave what needs it, wash da hair, etc... THEN, go to bed and....
Not hafta get up at any particular time tomorrow, for the first time.
(No, I haven't been to sleep since I got up for work Friday morning.)
(And, no, not with "chemical assistance". I just do this shit sometimes... Cleaned da FUCK outta this house though... *grin*) Anyway, I'm outta here.
(And, good gotDAMN, are Butterball turkeys goooood....) Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 03:57 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Okay, so here's the plan... (updated again @ 1pm)
Dishes are 90% done.
All animals fed, few still need cages done.
Not alotta laundry, working on it.
Made it outside before total dark... around 8-ish, I guess.
Made it to the grocery store before midnight, thus securing the free turkey I'd scored in spending points and which had to be redeemed before midnight on the 15th.
what I've gotta do is:
(He found 'em all...)
Do my damnedest to make the house be the polar opposite of what it was when Eric went to bed (nearly fubared). Have it clean, smelling of roasting turkey and all sunny and nice and then... see the look on his face when he sees it and try to be all innocent about the hidden eggs (he has NO idea I'm doing this, I'm sure, even though I've done EVERY. OTHER. YEAR. SO. FAR.... *giggle*), possibly laying it off on Rorschach the rabbit. (I named him that because his coat patten on his back looks like he was drizzled with black ink and folded in half backwards, like... fur to fur. It looks like an ink blot, hence Rorschach.)
(And, I had the house mostly done by the time he got up...) Now...
How long do I have to pull alla this off? Dunno. He's off today/tomorow/Sunday/what-the-hell-EVER and I already shut off the alarm clock, so he gets up when he gets up. I know I've got at least seven hours, anyway... Hmmm...
Know what else needs doin'?
Guess I'll fire that up, go get the hay, get outta these clothes and into something short and light and.... start the cake. Then some laundry, the dishes, the rest of the inside animal shit and by then, I'll need to come here to see what the hell else I've got myself into. So... I shall return. Meantime...
Peace, y'all (Updated @ 4:00am)
(2nd Update @ 10:15 am)
(3rd and, I think FINAL, Update @ "almost 1 pm"... Last load of laundry is waiting to be dried, kitchen floor IS drying, small piece of bathroom floor left to mop, turkey's done aaaand... whatelse? There HASTA be something else... Wellll, I do have the hay and intention of cleaning out the dog pen and rebedding those barking buttholes, so, I guess that "what else". OTHER THAN THAT... I think I'm about done here. Of course, I'm gonna hafta make egg salad soon, but.... I think that can wait a bit. Happy Easter, y'all....
Posted by: Stevie at 12:02 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Speaking of Easter, Pt.3...
Posted by: Stevie at 12:01 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 15, 2006
Oh Gawd...
So, I'm sittin' here, reading the Best of Craig'sList and Waiterrant and whatnot.
One of Waiter's commenters said to go to Google, type in "failure" and click on "I feel lucky" and do it quick, before Google catches on and changes it.
That goes to a site about dickhead bosses and coworkers. Then, I typed in "fuckin' putz" and again with the "I feel lucky". Well...
Guess where it took me? Yeah... to my OWN May 2005 archives....
*rolling eyes and shaking head* Now, all I wanna do is type in obsure words and phrases, use "I feel lucky" and see what comes up... I can see my chances of getting the house clean, or doing anything else constructive with my now abundant time, is gonna be slim ta none. And, I was wondering what I was gonna do with myself...
Pft.
Posted by: Stevie at 09:51 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 14, 2006
Thank you, Ozzy...
Crazy, but that's how it goes
Millions of people living as foes
Maybe it's not too late
To learn how to love
And forget how to hate
Life's a bitter shame
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train I've listened to preachers
I've listened to fools
I've watched all the dropouts
Who make their own rules
One person conditioned to rule and control
The media sells it and you live the role Mental wounds still screaming
Driving me insane
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train I know that things are going wrong for me
You gotta listen to my words
Yeh-h
Heirs of a cold war
That's what we've become
Inheriting troubles I'm mentally numb
Crazy, I just cannot bear
I'm living with something that just isn't fair Mental wounds not healing
Who and what's to blame
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train. Oz-man...
ya got me through another harsh day.
Just like when that colt died.
Crazy Train on "repeat".
Though, that day, it worked.
I didn't cry.
Wish I could say the same about today. But, all the same...
Thanks, Ozzy.
It woulda been even worse withoutcha. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 09:45 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 13, 2006
Whoa...
I think "The Fossil" died.
Remember that woman I detested who would periodically show up at our house back in Bucks with Eric's best friend, Joe? Her.Yeah. I think she's dead. Jr. radioed a while ago and said somebody died, but he kept breaking up (static, not crying) and I'm sure (unfortunately) he didn't say it was his evil bc mother, so I think it was the other evil, vile, disgusting woman. Damn.
Soooo close. Maybe next time.
Posted by: Stevie at 02:59 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Speaking of Easter, Pt. 2...
Posted by: Stevie at 01:41 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Speaking of Easter...
(Which, I wasn't but, it's my blog and if I wanna abruptly change subjects within mere minutes, ya just know I'm gunna...)
Why does the Easter Bunny hide his eggs? (Answer in the EP...)Posted by: Stevie at 01:38 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Bad news, good news, more good news, more crappy news -or- God doesn't close a door that he doesn't open a window somewhere (-or- put on yer seatbelts peoples, here we go again)...
The bad news is last night Sprint screwed up and suspended my phone service. (Worse news for them is that they really screwed up back in January...)
Anyway, I have a payment schedule worked out with them and I've been doing WHAT THE PAPERWORK SAID.
'Tis not MY fault if they can't do math.
Neither can I.
I admit that.
But, hell, even I could see that they'd inadvertantly halved what my payment was supposed to be every month when the paperwork got here.
Still... far be it for me to tell them how to do things. Just like nearly any other time somebody screws up and they wanna blame us, right?
I called them and the first 14 frickin' times I called, I got a dot-head. I could tell by the accent as well as the incompetence. Those dipshits connected me to a closed office, connected me to a fast busy signal then, when I called back yet again, left me on hold for about a day and a half.
So, I hung up on that call too, called back and got...
AN AMERICAN!!! YAY!!!
I even told her if I hadn't gotten her, I'da hung up and called back again.
Then, I told her why. Once she quit laughing, I explained what was going on and she tried to get me back on right then (because I was so innocently correct for once... *weg*) BUT... because of the payment arrangement thingy, I had to call back today, to a particular office, and git the shit straight.
Which leads to the first "good news"... It worked.
I'm back (obviously) and I'll bet ya's din't even know I wuz gone...
*rolls eyes* So, I go to work today and find out my second "good news" (and, boy is that in quotes for a reason...). Which is this: I get to not hafta get up at the butt crack o'dawn for a while.
(Mad William... wanna start a fuckin' CLUB, man?) I'm not fired.
(Yes. I realize this qualifies as "good news" too, but wait...) I'm "laid off" for a bit.
*sigh* This is thanks to Mr Boss's other business.
The one in which he builds "very-much-like-barns" buildings.
The company who sells the buildings has changed it's "payment to dealers" policy and caught Mr. Boss "with my pants down", as he put it. He's got money out that he was expecting to get back from The Company very soon. Not gunna happen now.
NOW, the buildings have to be completed and, I think, the customer hasta pay The Company before Mr Boss gets paid. Meanwhile, here's Mr Boss nailed to the wall.
He said he had to borrow some money against SuperHorse and another horse to keep going for now.
AND, as soon as The Company quits being a plug in the asshole pf progress (my phrase, thanks), he's gonna let me know. I knew something was up, anyway... I didn't want breakfast this morning.
Then, when I got to work, he already had half of the small barn done.
Then, he kept hanging around me, acting kinda uncomfortable.
He even followed me outside the barn while I grabbed a smoke and he doesn't smoke himself... Then, he left and I started forkin' shit and here he comes back again. He starts out using my name, which is hardly ever good, and he says, "I've gotta talk to ya and I don't wantcha to take any of what I hafta tell ya the wrong way. I'm gonna say what I mean and mean what I say, so don't think I'm sayin' something else, okay?" "Okaaay." Then, he told me. He feels like shit, I know.
And, not just because he said so.
He also forked shit alongside me, stall for stall, all the way through the big barn. Kept saying things like I can feel free to come on over anyway and he still wants George and Eric to help him with the shit he's needing help with (flooring and some fence work, shit like that) and he's got some really expensive Western shirts he doesn't wear anymore he wants Eric to have and yes I am gonna be back there and he may not even be able to take SuperHorse to that show he needs to go in to get his last two points for his Supreme Championship in Halter and on and on. One of the times he said he feels like shit, he almost choked up. I heard 'im.
Which made ME tear up... I simultaneously hate this and can't wait to not hafta be up so early the first day I don't hafta be, ya know? *whispers*
I also can't wait til my first day back there... man, this blows. Meantime, I've got the painting to do.
I've got the lady up the street with the horses she needs trained and I suppose there'll be some shit I can do right on this farm for a while.
Plus, there IS a shitload of shit around here needs doing. Oh, and I went to my buddy yesterday insteada waiting for him to come here, so that's helping my attitude, too. So... to recap... Sprint screwed up, admitted it and fixed it AND I get to, for once, at least give the appearance of innocence.
And, I get to sleep in for a while.
And, I still have income potential.
And, I have my "horticultural substance", as it were. *sits and watches cursor blink* Man. Oh well. Guess I oughta go bust some suds.
(South Joisey "street" for "wash some dishes"...) I'll be back.
Later.
God, knoooows... I'll be back.
(He also knows I'll have the time... *rolls eyes*) Peace, y'all...
Posted by: Stevie at 01:19 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 11, 2006
How is it the longer he knows me, the less he knows me?
The dipstick has known me 9 years.
We've been together for five.
Not only does he STILL not know my soash (SS#), he is also laboring under the misinformation that I like to paint.
Or... I'll be "laboring" under it.
Well.
Guess who got volunteered to do it? *waves* Man, I hate painting.
Never was my favorite thing to do, but after the shit I went through on behalf of painting about 10 years ago, I now hate it. Just plain HATE it. I was painting the ceiling of a closet.
It was a pain in the ass and seemed kinda stupid to be doing in the first place. (My personal opinion was that if some dipshit renter wanted to bitch because the ceiling of the friggin' closet wasn't painted, they could damned well do it themselves...) Little did I know that somewhere in the history of the house, some dillhole had WALLPAPERED the stupid closet ceiling.
(Don't ask me. I just work here.) So, here I am, painting over my head, dodging drips and hating it to begin with.
THEN, a huge piece of the 200 year old wallpaper lets go and lands, painted side down of course, right on top of my head. Good Gawd Almighty, was I pissed.
I mean, this wasn't just paint in my hair.
This was PAINT IN MY FUCKING HAIR!!!!!!
Great gobs of it.
On my whole head.
I looked like Carrie White, if they'd have dumped White-out on 'er insteada blood. Ever since then, I hate painting. Unless I'm stoned. Stoned, I can even "get into" cleaning catboxes. So, here I am, supposed to start this dumbass painting job today and my "buddy" won't be by til tomorrow.
*siiiigh* 'Course, there's another little job I got recommended for that I'm much better suited for that I need to go see about... training (NOT "BREAKING") a coupla horses for some lady up the road. See, I don't "break" horses.
I train them.
Totally different philosophy.
I'm more "horse whisperer" than "hotdoggin' cowboy". I detest, and reserve the right to call "fuckin' stupid", people who let a horse go til he's a two year old, then feel the need to bully and beat the bloody hell outta them, trying to get control. If you start working with them while they're still babies, it's a lot better for them, better for the trainer, better all around.
Start the groundwork; being handled, haltered, lead on a rope, get 'em used to being worked on a lunge line, having their feet picked up, jogging next to you, stopping when you stop, standing square.... there's a lot you can do with a baby that'll make everything to follow a hell of a lot easier. You RIDE a horse before he's AT LEAST two years old and, again... you're a moron. That, and beatin' 'em up, is the best way to totally ruin a horse.
Riding them too young fucks up their legs and beating them up to "teach" them fucks up their minds. The old "cowboy" way of breaking horses is harsh, stupid, mean and unfair to the horse.
Throwing a saddle on a horse and bucking him out may be faster, but... your horse doesn't learn respect.
He learns fear.
And, that's not good.
They call it "breaking" them, because the old way was meant to "break" their spirit, take away any independant thought processes and make the horse malleable piece of meat that could be ridden. That's not a horse you end up with that way.
It's a brainless, spineless piece of meat you can ride and that's all it is.
It's a creature who does what you want because it's scared of being hurt further.
And, that's bullshit.
Especially when there are other, BETTER, ways to get them where ya want 'em.
Liiiiike... working WITH them, training them and developing a mutual respect with them.
You can get a helluvalot farther by cooperating with them than ya can by beating them into submission.
And, the best way to start is to start when they're babies. You do right by 'em the whole time, during the whole process, and it'll be loads easier when it comes time to teach them to carry a rider. My way may be slower, but you end up with a much better partner when he's grown. (God. See how much more I know about horses than friggin' painting?) Anyway....
In other news....
My stupid birthday is coming again.
I'm gonna be the age my mother was when she died.
(Gut knot up much?) Since this may be my last birthday, I feel no compunction whatsoever listing what I want for once.
I already got one of the things... I finally got The Sound of Music on DVD last night.
The picture is sooooo much better.
Which is good, because I bawl through the whole damned thing and between that and the shitty quality of my VHS version, I couldn't see shit half the time. The other two things I want are a.) a shop vac-WalMart-$30. If I'm only gonna be alive one more year, I don't wanna spend it vacuuming up after these cats o'mine with my "regular" vacuum cleaner anymore. The time I'd save ALONE would give me another coupla months to have fun instead of picking up random clumps of hair-n-shit and having to "feed" it to the vacuum I have now.
*rolls eyes*
and b.) the original Broadway cast soundtrack CD of Jesus Christ Superstar. I used to be able to sing every song on the first three sides (of the double-album set) and I miss it. (I never did get into the fourth side because the sound of Jesus being beaten makes my hair crawl... *shudder*)
This can be obtained for a mere $30 bucks at my local Sam Goody record store.
Takes two weeks to get here. Now, all I need is for someone (looks in Eric's direction) to go order it.
And, swing by Wally-world on the way back.
(Well, it IS just across the street...) On that note.... I'm outta here.
I'm starving my ass off and I have to go.... anywhere to do anything so I don't hafta freekin' paint.
I hate painting. Peace y'all...
Posted by: Stevie at 12:18 PM | Comments (14) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 10, 2006
Hello...
Stop plannin' the party.
I ain't dead.
Yet.
Job's fine.
SuperHorse is still excellent. Gave away three kittens yesterday.
Found one from the last littler passed away, under a bed. *pout*
Then, a first-time mom had two babies and totally dropped the ball, so they're both dead, too.
So... one way of lookin' at it is that I got "out of" six cats yesterday.... Kinda twisted, yes, but mucho healthier than I usedta be about this kinda shit. Don't get me wrong, I still hate it, but... whatever.
Ya have 9,742 cats, a little death is to be expected. I still have more got-damned kittens than probably everybody else in the Gettysburg area put together. But, thanks to the two phone calls I just made which took off a LOT pf pressure about two bills, overall, I think God still likes me.
(I'd fuckin' well KNOW it, if He'd come on already with the Appalooosa, though...) Meanwhile, I have three birds and a rabbit waiting to go outside and I hafta go get a money order and give Harrisburg 26 bucks to renew my license.
Pretty cool I can do it by mail, especially considering I've had an address change. Then, I owe a certain Suth'n Gentleman a phone call... Missed 'im the last two times he's called and now I feel like a turd. Think I may just go on and call my other Suth'n Hero, too, whilst I'm at it. BUT FIRST... a couplafew tacos.
I'm so frickin' hungry, my stomach thinks my throat's been cut AND wants to EAT the knife it was done with.
Now, that's hooooongry. So, to get this straight.... put out the critters.
Eat tacos.
Obtain money order.
Send it to H'burg.
Make a coupla phone calls.
Then? Maybe I'll go riding or something.
Or, maybe I'll make the calls from atop the horse. And... speaking of horses...
There's a baby at work. A yearling. I don't know exactly why, but he's my best baby-buddy. Name's Billy.
So, guess what I've taken to callinng him? Mad William.
It fits. An energetic, cute-as-HELL, chestnut yearling colt.
Mad William.
*grin* On that note,
I'm outta here.... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 11:10 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 05, 2006
Can you say "bite me", Entity-in-charge-of-weather?
What are you on?
Crack?
Like to blow my hair off'n my head, fer fucks sake. And, not to get all technical and shit on ya, buuuut.... IT'S APRIL!!!
Da FUCK is with the white shit this morning? I mean, hell's bells, it's hard enough to catch a loose colt who wantsta play inside the hotwalker enclosure. Especially with the other three babies on the walker who think he's cool, like some kinda equine Ferris Bueller, thus want to be loose like he is and are freakin' out. That's bad enough. Then YOU, oh Bent-Headed Weather Entity, want to throw a white-out-conditions "white shit shower" into the mix. I COULDN'T SEE THE HOUSE for a while there, thanks to that shit.
Not to mention how much easier (/sarcasm) it made it to catch that stupid colt.
Frozen fingers are always good when dealing with halter buckles. Then, not 30 seconds after we'd caught the colt and gotten him back on the hotwalker then stepped back into the barn... the sun's out. Shining brightly, all over everything, including the last random whiteSHITflakes. Then, it's white-shittin' again. Then sunny again. AND.... colder'n a well-diggers wet balls the whole time. Now, I ask you... WHAT THE FUCK, MAN? What's yer POINT? Do you even HAVE one? Enough with this shit, now.
I mean it.
I have had ENOUGH outta you. One day, I'm sweating my ass off before I get halfway through the first barn, the next I'm freezing and having to duck whiteshitflakes.
Can't even see across the frickin' field....
goddamn. Now, listen to me... assbreath. It's April.
We've already changed the stupid clocks.
Flowers have already started blooming and animals are waking up from hibernation.
Crickets and tree frogs are already singing and have been for over a week. It's too LATE for anymore of your whiteshit games. It is supposed to be nice now and get nicer as the days go by, til in about two months, everybody is bitching about how fuckin' HOT it is. Can you not grasp that concept? No more of the whiteshit.
EVER.
Or, at least not until next February. Learn it. Know it. DO IT. That is all.
Posted by: Stevie at 01:20 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 03, 2006
I made it...
so far.
I got there at 5:35, got to SLEEP IN MY CAR for an hour because somebody hadn't fed yet and STILL got done by 8:37. Ha. Got home, folded one load of wash and stuck another into the dryer and yet another into the washer. Now, I'm trying to decide if I'm more tired or hungry.Didn't eat my usual breakfast before I went over there. Right now, I'm leaning toward hungry. But, I'm also almost droolin' at the thought of sliding into bed and reading til I pass out, book next to my head, if not on my face... What to do, what to do.... Best I can come up with is: Both, eventually. Talk to ya's later...
Posted by: Stevie at 08:07 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Okay, now it's almost 2:30am...
And, all I have left to do is ice the cake (spice w/cream cheese icing), wipe the fridge, the rest of the laundry (which is pretty much an ongoing situation) and....
me.
She loves that. Anyway, before I get off on another sleep-deprivation tangent, I'mina go wipe the fridge, ice the cake, get shower and all the while, do more of the (endless damned) laundry. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 01:28 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 02, 2006
This is gonna be my "still to do" list...
I've done so much cleaning today, yet there's still shit to do and I'm getting really tired and really confused now.
SO... Thought I'd just post what it is I have left to do so I can kinda keep track.Now, if I can remember it all again... Laundry
Wash front door curtain along with shower curtain
Animal cages, in and under
Vacuum and mop bathroom floor
Bake cakes
Wipe inside bottom of fridge
Get a shower, wash hair... you know... take of my own stupid self
Be at work by (whine)5:-friggin'30(/whine) tomorrow
Return home
Die What is already done includes, but is not limited to the following: 90% of the dishes- done by GEORGE!
90% of the vacuuming, both up & down stairs, washing front door mat, cooking dinner (Hamburger Helper, but, still...) and not being a snot about it (much)- done by ERIC!
(The rest is me)
Approximately 92 loads of laundry already
Some more vacuuming
Catboxes
Other random cat "dump sites"-ew
Mopped kitchen floor
Straightened out pantry
Cleaned microwave
Cleaned dressing/cat-with-new-kittens room
Oh and let's not forget... cleaned 17 stalls first thing this morning That always makes the rest of the shit I hafta do sooooo much easier, too, lem'me tell ya. (/sarcasm) Anyway... I think I've got all the last, random, bouncing-around-in-my-head-like-pingpong-balls things listed.
I might possibly have alla the "already done" shit listed.
I don't know anymore, I'm so tired.
(Must be. I'm quoting Ozzy Osbourne...) Oh yeah and I also want to remember to check around and see if Jesus Christ Superstar is available on CD.
I miss singing that. *coupla minutes later*
Okay.
What da hell is it with me and always having Ozzy Osbourne and Jesus somehow connected?
It never fails.
If I mention or hang a picture of one of them, the other is sure to follow within minutes or inches. Like, up there a second ago, I quote Ozzy, then suddenly remember about JCSuperstar and wanting it on CD. And, on the wall, less than 4 feet from where I now sit, I have two pictures hanging.
Jesus on top and Ozzy (from the 80's and Jesus is he gorgeous) under Him. Why do I always seem to do that?
Ozzy/Jesus, Jesus/Ozzy....
It's almost as bad as it used to be seeing the time "9:11am" every damned day at the diner back in Bucks. I don't see that time of day anymore, by the way.
I mean, I'm conscious during it, both times it happens a day, usually, but I don't "SEE" it every time it happens, like I used to. Now, it's just Ozzy/Jesus. Matter of fact, the other day, when that baby died at work, it was Crazy Train put on "repeat" on my Walkman and left to run for over an hour that got me through.
It kept me from bawling. (Mostly.) Then, the next day was when it first hit me I want to find JCSuperstar. Weird. Well, I love 'em both.
They're both gorgeous.
Other than that.... I have no idea. About anything anymore... Friggin' 'ell, I'm tired.
Can ya tell? Ayeah.
Time to clean something.
Or maybe bake something. Guess we'll see when I get there. Where? There.
Anywhere that's not "in this chair".
Oh.
Okay. Glad we got that cleared up. Peace, y'all. "Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
I'm a schizophrenic.
And so I am." (Fuck if I know, man...)
Posted by: Stevie at 09:11 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 01, 2006
Oh, nothin'....
I just wanted to see the word "April" on here.
Sick of winter.
Sick of March.
And...
*grin*
Posted by: Stevie at 06:55 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 30, 2006
Yep. I kinda hadda feelin' it might be a "not so wonderful day" when I got to work this morning and saw the dead colt on the lawn...
And, I was correct in that premonition/feeling.
This makes the fifth dead horse I've seen with my own two eyes in my life.Don't wanna see no more, thanks. The very first one was really just a skeleton.
He was Old Bill or John, I forget which, a horse that my Uncle Henry had had for years. He was beyond working anymore, so he was just retired to pasture... til the drunk old bastard down the road shot him. Nobody knew why, the drunk old prick denied it of course and Uncle Henry (apparently) didn't see any need to disturb the poor old dead guy, so he left him lay. Years later, I'm out fartin' around waaaay out in the backest back pasture, down by the stream, when I find this big-assed skeleton.
Figured out it was a horse, told Uncle Henry and he told me the story. The second dead horse I saw was a saddle bronc at Cowtown rodeo named Mr. Moore. He came outta the chute, did his thing and then slammed full tilt boogie into the chute gates and did a back flip and broke his neck.
The cowboy was fine.
They loaded the quite obviously dead horse onto a skid and drug him outta the arena while the stupid announcer was lying his balls off to the equally insipid crowd about how Doc Gemberling was being called and would be right over to attend to the horse.
Well... unless Doc Gemberling was JESUS, there wasn't shit he was gonna do for Mr. Moore. You could hear his neck snap when he landed, fer piss sake.
As a side note, that was my first night barrel racing in a rodeo and I pulled my horse up way before I should have, but I just couldn't go runnin' full speed toward those bucking chutes after what Mr. Moore had just done.
Whatever. The next dead horse was another Grant Harris special.
This one had died out in the pasture, next to a manmade pond down the road from Grant's
He seemed highly unimpressed and if I remember correctly, it took him a coupla/few days to get around to taking care of it.
Dick. Between this horse and the next one I saw die, it was several years and there were a few horses I knew of who died, but far enough removed from me to just be of passing interest, not heartbreak. The next one who died, died in my arms.
That would be Gia, the 30 year old App I had back in Bucks and I lay her death at the feet of the fuckhead who owned the farm. He was the one who insisted she be moved outta the field that actually had grass in it too soon, thereby denying her the time and opportunity to gain the weight she needed to make it through the winter and sure enough, we lost her in February. Storm came after she died.
He died too.
But... I refused to look at him dead.
Glad I did, too.
I still can't hear certain songs without it killing me all over again, so I know if I'da looked at him dead, I'd be dead by now. My latest and hopefully LASTEST dead horse was today... Boo was his name.
He was a year and half or so old and he was fine three days ago. Two days ago, around 4/4:30 pm, he started acting colicky and looking sick.
Mr & Mrs Boss did what they knew to do and the next morning, called the vet, as what they did didn't change him much.
The vet comes, tubes him, flushes his stomach, gives him about 90 different meds to be given and leaves. Less than an hour later, Boo was back to pawing HARD, laying down- NOT TRYING TO ROLL- and getting up and just looking miserable. He even shit a few times, so we knew it wasn't "just" colic. They continued with what Doc #1 told them to do through the night and this morning, by the time I got there, he was laid out flat on the lawn. I walked up to him just in time for his last two breaths. Fuckin' great. They'd put him down. This vet said he was beyond hope. Some kind of intestinal anomaly.
Mrs Boss took his body to some place around here that does necropsies and she should know by tomorrow at the latest what killed him. So, that sucked.
Really bad. On toppa which, my missing little terrorist buddy finally found his way back.
He started to come last month but saw the arsonist-cunt-from-hell was already here and, apparently felt intimidated and totally outclassed and fled for the month. I was wondering what was up widdat. Now I know. NOW, my ankles are just plain FAT, I feel bloated like a full tick hangin' on a dog, my clothes ain't fittin' for SHIT, my head hurts, my shoulder hurts, my attitude has tanked and I don't feel any need to take on any more shit.
Right?
Right.
(Well, I DON'T.) UNFORTUNATELY.... I'd made a comittment to go to a farmer dinner/thing with Eric tonight.
All I can say is: Oh.
Mah.
Gawd. If anybody EVER invites you to one of these deals, first do WHATEVER is necessary to get outta going, then try to find out whatcha did to piss 'em off so bad they'd wanna do that to ya. These "meetings" are so fulla thee most BOOOOORING "speakers", it's damned near unbelievable. If I ever hear anybody ever again utter the phrase "impact fees" within my earshot, I'mina "shot" them, I swear. And, I don't know who the contentious prick in the black suit was, but I want his ASS! ON A PLATTER!!!! SHREDDED!!!!!!!
That argumentative cocksucker made that stupid shit last an hour longer than it should have. Had to argue, question and bitch about EVERYTHING.
I hate him now. This is an improvement, by the way.
Hour and a half ago, I wanted to kill him in front of God and everybody. So.
Wake up to a dead yearling colt.
Then, be havin' the period from hell.
Feel like a full tick from bloat.
Have an additional four hee-uge piles of crap to shovel outta the barn alleyway, besides the normal 17 (%$#!!@#!!) stalls fulla shit to clean.
Get home, hafta "do" a full set of nailtips for the night's festivities.
Have to wear "real" clothes that all feel two sizes too small, including a sports bra you feel sure yer gonna hafta be cut out of by the Jaws of Life (as opposed to sweats) to a dinner function with boring assed, long-winded, mostly monotonous, braindead speakers that drags on for just over four hours. Then... see if you don't feel like smackin' the taste outta somebody's mouth. And, by the way... it's not just my period talkin' about that prick in the black suit.
He was pissin' lotsa people off.
Some other old man got up, pointed at him and yelled at him about his stupid shit after the second or third time he started it.
I hadda restrain myself to keep from cheering Old Fart #2 on.
Thought he was gonna have a "spell" he was gettin' so het up at this fool. And, that's another thing.... these are "family affairs", meaning everybody who has 'em brings the kiddies.
'Caaaause they get so much outta this shit and enjoy it soooo fuckin' much, right? NO. It's so the ADULTS can color and use the markers and play with the cars and other toys insteada having to be subjected to actually having to pay attention to the endless droning that goes on... and on and on and on and on. This makes the second practical use for kids that I've ever seen.
The first one is: take one with you when you have to do something unpleasant, like going to the main DMV office for your state for a stupid hearing to getcher license back.
Normally, those turdburglers'll make ya wait forEVER to get in and git the shit done with. Not so if you have a screeching baby with you. You take a screeching baby and they'll have you in and out so fast you won't even mind having had to go in the first place.
This I know.
This I did once. Think the next time I get shanghied into one of these damnable dinners*, I'm gonna take my Play-Doh, crayons and coloring books.
I'll just say, "Oh DAMN. Forgot the kid again, man..." and leave it at that.
Least that way, I won't be bored to hairlessness.
Again. (*Actually, the dinners themselves, as well as the company we go with, are both quite enjoyable. It's when the numbnuts brigade takes over that it starts to go to hell in a hurry...) And, now I'm at the point where it's either: go get another cuppa coffee or go to bed. Think I'm gonna opt for "go to bed".
I've had about alla this stupid day that I can take. Peace y'all.
Posted by: Stevie at 11:45 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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