March 29, 2006
Wanna know who can sing like a mutha?
(Naw, I ain't dead. Just tired beyond all reason...)
(Anyway...)
Couldn'ta cared less about Friends til about the fourth or fifth season.
Thought Daria was stupid for the first coupla years. Now this lady.
Bonnie Bramlett. And, ya wanna guess how I found out about her?
Roseanne. There's this one episode she's in... yeah, I know she's in lots of episodes, but there's this one... I don't even remember what the story is in it, all I know is at the end, the whole crew is sittin' around outside, Dan's playing guitar and they start to sing "Really Got a Hold on Me" and Bonnie takes it over and wooo man!
Makes my eyes tear up every time I see it, which I just did about an hour ago, again. Now, this is someone I wanna sound like.
Like I do Gatlin, Yoakam and alla them. I wanna sing like Bonnie.
I think I can, I just need to learn it.
To do that, I need to get some of her stuff on CD and learn the words, then just keep listening to it til I git it.
I can "do" Janis a little already... So guess where I'm goin' real soon...
To a record shop. Gonna make both Bonnie and myself a little richer.
Her by buying her music.
Me by learning to let go and feeeeel it, like she does. I already do that with Gatlin, but I have this strong feeling that what he feels ain't a tenth of what she does. So, yeah...
Y'all can add one more woman to my ever-so-short list of utter awesome females...
Posted by: Stevie at 06:06 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 23, 2006
Do y'all have any idea...
how hard it is or how long it can take to clean 17 stalls while singing in full "don't need no microphone, me" voice with Larry Gatlin correctly, not only hitting but HOLDING those high notes of his for the requsite 7 minutes each?
Holy horse pucky.I thought I was gonna bust a lung a time or two. This is with headphones on, full volume, of course.
And... I can still hear myself in spite of them, I can sing his shit so confidently... so loudly.
*grin*
Oughta be able to by now.
Been "practicing" him for aboooouuut 30 years. Holy God.
THIRTY years.... Wow. *few seconds later* Know what?
I really don't care if that makes me "old". If the payoff for thirty years is to be able to keep up with that little shit Gatlin, it's worth it.
Now, where'd I put that Charlie Rich CD?
Waylon? Where're you, Love? Back later...
Got a concert to perform.
*gets up, wondering where the Bee Gees, Chicago and American Grafitti discs are... out in the car?*
Posted by: Stevie at 02:04 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 22, 2006
I have a question. Two, actually...
First one is this:
Pray, do tell, what in the HELL is "a tragic breeding shed accident" a euphemism for? I wanna know this because the sire of one of the fillies at work died last week in "a tragic breeding shed accident". The stallion's name was Luke At Me and we have one of his kids at the farm I work on. Ever since I was told about it yesterday, two things have been on a looptape in my mind... one is Johnny Mathis, singing the refrain from "Look at Me", which is getting OLD now....The other is, "What the flying FUCK does THAT mean?", about the tragic accident.
I've been thinking and thinking about this shit, I just canNOT figure out how a stallion "accidentally" just dies during breeding.
Best I can come up with is that "tragic breeding shed accident" means "stupid human fuckup" of some kind. Speaking of this subject.... why do breeders keep insane stallions? Why do they breed to mentally fucked up brood mares? Why do they want to pass on the insanity from one generation to the next? I've been wondering about this stupidity about cows for-friggin'-EVER. The "answer" there is allllll about milkweight. (Which, btw, is about the lamest fuckin' thing I've ever heard. I'm real sure, if I or Eric or anybody else, gets killed by a cow, we won't MIND, as along as she's a good producer. Yeah. That'll make alll the difference... *rolling eyes right outta head*)
Meaning, if there is an insane, cat-shit mean dairy cow, who tries to kill all who milk her, as long as she puts out the milk weight, some stupid fuck'll breed her, thereby assuring the danger for generations to come. Thanks, assholes. Seems the same holds with horses.
The first situation that came up that had me shaking my head was this not-very-attractive, mean-to-other-horses and dangerous mare that got bred at work yesterday.
It's the bitch who jammed my shoulder halfway back to Jersey when we were giving shots a coupla weeks ago. So, maybe I'm prejudiced.
But, I don't think so. Most horses have a fight or flight response.
Dis bitch doesn't.
She's all "fight" if she feels impugned upon, which she does fairly often.
Plus, she's a bitch to the other mare she's out with.
Plus, her conformation isn't all that wonderful.
So... whatta they do?
Breed her.
*siiigh* That was bad enough. Then, Maeve leaves me a comment about a stallion she knew named Jaws-for-a-reason. Reason being, he'd try to bite yer face off if you even just stood outside his stall door, let alone opened it. Now, WHY for the love of all that is holy, would a person keep a horse like?
Geld him, sell him, shoot him in the face, but WHY KEEP A LIABILITY LIKE THAT AROUND? I sure as hell wouldn't want any of his kids.
Hell, I wouldn't even want any of that mare's kids. I also knew a horse like that.
His name was Davey and he was a Standardbred.
Evil cocksucker was what he REALLY was. When you opened his stall door, you'd BETTER have a bucket of tranquilizer-medicated oats in yer hand to shove over his mouth, or you were losing skull bones, he was such a miserable fuck. If he'd have been mine, he'd have been GONE.
Down da road, to a killer sale, into a can of Alpo... damned if I'd have cared.
Just gone, before he got me or someone else hurt or sued. Same with the stallion Maeve knows.
Same with that stupid mare.
Same with about 15 cows I can name off the toppa my head.
Same with a coupla bulls, too... like the one that killed Lane Frost, for instance. So, enlighten me, please.
And, I swear to God Himself, if it's all about money, I'm gonna.... I'm gonna...
Well, I don't know WHAT I'll do. Except maybe hold a dual funeral for "common sense" and "the last of my sanity".
And, probably scream too, that's such a stupid, stupid reason...
Posted by: Stevie at 06:15 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 20, 2006
Scratch my buuuuutt, Shortbus and fuckwit UPS drivers...
These are the things that make up the days of my life.
Along with fire, floods and Christ only knows what else....
(I shudder to think of it...)
Those first two things are horses.
That's what I call them. Scratch my Buuuuutt is my second favorite horse at work, after SuperHorse, a.k.a. Hank.
Scratch my Buuuuutt is a gray gelding, about 2 years old, who reminds me of my first Appaloosa, Diablo and he's goofy. I made the mistake a few weeks ago of casually scratching his tail and thereabouts because I needed to make contact with him and that's the area that was nearest to me.
Well.
Ever since then, the entire time I'm cleaning his house, all this dipshit does is back around in circles, after me to scratch his buuuuutt. I'll be forking shit outta the corners, then I get shoved into said corner, with his ass firmly pressed against my back. I'll be walking a forkfulla shit over to the muckbucket and here he comes, backwards mind you, right behind me. I stop to dump the shit, he keeps comin'.
BONK.
I sidestep him, giggling, and go around his large hairy ass, back to the poop pile and I see his shadow, ass first, comin' at me again.
This goes on the entire time I'm in his house.
Hence his new name. ShortBus is retarded.
Another two year old gelding, very sweet USUALLY, but last week he pissed me OFF, man. Such a fuckin' moron that I didn't talk to him for days, just went in, ignored him except to tie him in a corner while I worked, then left.
No scratchies, no pets, no nuthin'.
That because of what he did.
His new name is also because of what he did. What he did was make me look like a dumbass, pretty much.
To me, anyway.... Every damned day, I do the same thing, the same way. Easier on them, easier on me, just easier all around.
When I clean a stall with a horse in it, I usually do it one of two ways, depending on how fucked up the stall is. I either fork alla the shit into the corner by the door, then re-fork it into the spreader (or muckbucket, whichever) or I'll park the muckbucket right outside the stall door, leaving the door open juuuust wide enough to fit the full fork through and be done with the shit in one less step.
(My Uncle Henry drilled into my head when I was a kid to "never handle yer shit twice... especially manure." So I favor way #2....) So, last week, I'm cleaning ShortBus's stall with the bucket parked right outside the barely opened door. Everything was going well, til he decides to be a fuckin' retard and squeeze his large ass THROUGH said door, stepping INTO the muckbucket and nearly falling on his ass just to get out of his stall.
Damned near tore the door offa it's track, broke the bucket and killed himself, he did.
Fuckin' TARD. Man, that pissed me OFF.
Of course, Mr. Boss was RIGHT THERE when Dickbag pulled this stunt, so that helped... NOT. I threw down the fork, threw open his door and demanded he return AT ONCE to his proper place before I kicked his ass so hard his non-existant balls felt it. He did. Since then, I've been tying him in the corner, sans dunce cap unfortunately, and being all but mean to him. Then today that new name came to me and I just started laughing.
Then, petting him and we've now made up.
BUT... he's still gonna be tied in the corner, til I get some kind of sign/reassurance from him or God that he's not gonna be stupid like that (or any other way) again. So, Scratch my Buuuuuutt and ShortBus.
Cool names, no? Now, about this fuckwit UPS driver...
I think I might actually have to hurt this asshole if I see him again... especially if I see him do again what I saw him do today.
Asshole. Being that Tyler used to live where I work and that I promised his "old" Mom and Dad I'd bring him with me every day (that he wants to come- he stays home with Eric on Eric's days off), Tyler thinks it's still his "job" to "protect" the farm. This means that he must carry on every single time ANYBODY drives up.
Even his old Mom and Dad.
That dog's memory must be SHOT... Anyway, he goes utterly insane when a delivery ve-hickle of any kind shows up, but most especially if it's a Brown's or UPS truck. So, today, it happened to be a UPS truck.
I was right inside the barn and upon hearing Tyler's "there one a them bastard UPS trucks encroaching on MY territory, damn it" barks, I start out to go get him, lest he have one of his intense bark-a-thons at yet another pantleg cuff, as he is wont to do.
He has never actually bitten, but he does get very Drill Sargeant-y with yer pants cuffs. This dog is only about 8" tall.
But, he's also built like a tank.
Still, ALL HE DOES IS BARK.
A lot. Anyway, Mr. NancyBoy UPS driver sees him barking his ass off and gooses the gas and SWERVES AT HIM!!!!!
Muthafucker!!!!!
I WILL BEAT YORE SORRY ASS!!!!!! How fuckin' DARE he? It's not like he got out and Tyler actually DID anything.
This peter-puffin' peckerhead pulled this shit BEFORE he even exited the truck but AFTER I'd cleared the barn doors, thus SAW HIM DO IT. Not, say, AFTER he'd dropped the shit off he was delivering, thus having to put up with Tyler tellin' his pants cuffs off or anything, which woulda been bad enough.
Noooo.
He had to try to draw First Blood.
And, I "took" it about as well as John Rambo did. I screamed Tyler's name and went around the truck to get him.
The driver, upon hearing me scream, stops the truck completely, slides open the passenger side door, gives me a "dog-caught-suckin'-eggs", embarrassed grin and then, to complete my rage says, "I wuz gonna give 'im some tire rubber to chew on." "Very intelligent. There's already been one cat around here killed. We don't NEED it happening to ANY of the dogs", I say as I put Tyler in my car. Fuckin' dickhead.
Fuckin' NancyBoy purse-carryin' dicksuckin' jerkweed. *seeeeveral minutes later* Okay.
Not only did I just get offa the phone with NancyBoy's Boss, I also just sent Livey a picture and "short novel biography" of George. *grin* NancyBoy's Boss was a.) very nice and very glad that I'd waited til I wasn't pissed enough to bite through nails anymore before I called. He even wrote down the "tire rubber to chew on" remark. b.) rawther pissed himself by what the dickweed did and c.) said he WILL handle this and it WON'T happen again. Well, good.
It shouldn't.
Try to run over MY dog....
putz.
BALD putz.
With a faggy moustache. Anyway...
After I talked to that guy, I did the bio on George and about 30 seconds before I hit "send", it occured to me to at least leave him a voice mail as to what I was about to do... *giggle* Not that he'd mind me doing it, but it just seemed like the thing to do, ya know? "Oh, by the way, Dude... there's this really cute, really cool, single chick I know and..." kinda thing, ending with "so, that's what I wrote and now *click*, I'm clicking "send" and there it goes. See ya when ya get home! Bye-ee."...
*mad giggles as I hang up* Now I'mina go clean the house. I defended my dog's honor and have maybe had a hand in two cool people having a new friend. Now, if I could only "Jeannie-blink" my house clean....
Posted by: Stevie at 03:45 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 19, 2006
Yeah, so what is it that comes after fire and flood which, yes, yes I am dealing with right now as opposed to being at work damn it to hell....
What is it?
Fuckin' locusts, or something?
I just wanna know so I can have some snacks and appropriate locust drinks on hand when, not IF, they show up.
My friggin' bathroom is cursed.
CURSED! I tell you. First it was in flames.
Now, it's goddamned soaked.
As was the kitchen floor and Dan and I went we went into the BASEMENT to shut off the water. Stupid goddamned cats. Yes, a CAT did this to me.
(And, ya know what, Rob? Go for it, 'cause right now, I am in no position or mood to disagree with ANYTHING you say about cats... the turds.) He (the cat, not Rob) was being an obnoxious fuck, trying to fuck to death another cat, Princess, so I intervened.
And, he growled and swiped at me.
Motherfucker.
You think so, huh?
Well, I'll show you, says me. Pft. I chased his ass 'round and 'round the house for a while, trying to get him to LEAVE.
He runs up into the poor, cursed bathroom and hides behind the toilet. I grab him and start pulling.
He, of course, resists.
And, somehow, in his Herculean efforts not to be removed from the interior of my house, he manages to snap the teeny, tiny little pipe that comes up through the floor and feeds water into the toilet tank, UNDER THE SHUT OFF VALVE, of course. That thing HAD TO BE weakened by the heat of the fire (the most intense part of the fire was less than 6" away from it), 'caaaaause this shit just. don't. happen. Unless, of course, you're MEEEEEEE! So, there I am, catless, on my knees (but not yet praying) twisting the stupid little useless knob down there back and forth trying in vain to MAKE IT STOP! Uh... nope. Fuck me runnin' (water?), ya know? So, once again, I go running for the milking parlor to find a MAN, who is supposed to be born equipped with knowledge of this kinda shit, to MAKE IT STOP! Thank God Himself that Dan was out there. I go in, stop at the top step, seeing no one and say, rather urgently... "Eric." I hear the dulcet tones of a man's voice say, "He's out scraping..." I says to meself and God, in case He's listening, "Oh, please let that be somebody useful, please let that be somebody useful..." as I run around the carousel to see who it is. DAN!!! OhthankGod... "Dan, do you know how to turn off the water in the house? A pipe let go behind the toilet and it's flooding the house." "Yeah, I think so..." Me again.. "Man, my bathroom is CURSED, ya know that?" He giggles and off we go. Fuckin' water was already dripping, nay... nearly pouring into the basement by then and it had only been a few minutes. And, just by the goddamned way... where the FUCK was all this fuckin' WATER two weeks ago, WHEN I NEEDED IT? HMMMMM?
*rolls eyes* So, anyway, Dan, who shall be henceforth referred to as "Butter Rum", because it's my favorite flavor of LIFESAVER, shut everything off and I started the mop up/clean-the-fuckin'-HOUSE-up-'cause-there's-gonna-be-PEOPLE
-in-here-soon operation. So much fun to do with no water.
Can't do the dishes, so I hid them in the oven, a thing I've never ever done before and swore I never would.
Can't wipe anything down, so I just put other shit on top of it.
Can't shit, which I have needed to do for about two hours, so far.
Need a shower, 'cause I look like hell.
No water. Of course, one can't "schedule" emergencies, can one, to happen, say, NOT WHEN THE HOUSE LOOKS LIKE A POST TORNADO DISASTER AREA? I did, however, dump catboxes, hide dirty dishes and generally stuffed shit outta sight and sprayed copious amounts of some kinda air freshener all over the place.
I think into my cuppa coffee, too.
Like I care.
It not only tasted good, it smelled fresh, right?
Believe me, I feel nearly BLESSED that I had a pot of coffee made before the ceiling started raining. In the midst of alla this, I also called Mr. Boss and got Mrs. Boss to let him/them know what was going on and that, even if we do get it fixed in a timely manner, I have scheduled a nervous breakdown for this afternoon and hence, will not be there today, see ya tamarra... Oh, and the locust thing?
It could TOTALLY happen.
And not just because it seems fitting, seeing the MONTH I've had so far.
Nope.
It could totally happen because so far this winter, I've brought home approxiamtely 9,724 wooly bear caterpillars I've found wandering around freezing their asses off.
Can't have that, me.
Nope.
No way.
So, I now have an aquarium with alla these stupid caterpillars in it, waiting to see what happens with 'em next. I think what happens next is I become an item on the fuckin' news. God, help me.
PLEASE? *Update about 10 minutes later* Okay, thank You, God, for milking parlor bathrooms.
Such a relief.
How is it that 2 or 3 cups of coffee turn into a bucket o'pee?
Beer shares that quality.
Pee the first time drinking beer and yer peeing on every telephone after that, I swear. AND, as if I don't have enough shit to contend with, while I was in the middle of this post, I went to "preview" it and viola... this stupid computer was doing it's "kinda not on line, but won't let you re-connect" thing it does sometimes.
I don't know what that's about, but it's off line as far as the computer is concerned, phone too, as you do get a dial tone, BUT... when I go into the place where I re-connect, re-connecting is not a given option.
Only thing I can do is shut down completely and restart the whole farkin' thing.
Well...
That was gonna suck, because it also won't letcha "save to draft" as it thinks it's off line and IS off line enough to not be able to find the stupid page, or so it says.
I tried my few tricks to make it let me re-connect and, of course... no.
SO, I sat here, not getting pissed yet, thinking...
Then, my Canadian Butter Rum, Paul, says in my head... "Ey, Dudette... why don'tcha use the "text" thing I showed ya, ey?" So I did. So "neener, neener, neener" to YOU, stupid computer.
You didn't get to screw me out of my post, ya punkass. And, God Bless yer Canook ass, Paulie.
I loves ya!
(But, I'm starting to become highly suspicious of my bathroom...)
Posted by: Stevie at 08:32 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 18, 2006
Hey you guu-uuys!!!!
This is, verbatim, a comment I got from my Dad today.
Have I mentioned lately how much I love y'all?Read on: Finally heard from your brother after two and a half weeks of
phone and puter silence.
He wrote us yesterday, and called us last evening.
He's been quite busy (if he tells us 'doing what'
I guess he'd have to shoot us...) He says he'll
be less busy for a little while.. Please tell your
wonderful correspondents that he has gotten a ton of notes from them
wishing him and his fellow Marines well. He says he'll have a heck of a
time replying to all of them (well...maybe the large busted young
ladies with somewhat questionable moral standards have an edge...) because
the Marines seem to think they have dibs on his time. But the
correspondence is much appreciated! Thank all of them so much... Thank you, every single one of you.
Feel free to write Norm as much as ya want.
No such thing as "too much" support (unless, of course, it's child support being paid to a 3 ton beeyotch who let the kid quit school, then move out of her house, yet still expects to be paid every freakin' month til hell freezes over), huh? (Yeah, I am ver'much tired and a tad... "testy", shall we say. But, I am also giggling at that. After Dad's email, how could I be in a completely pissy mood anymore, ya know?) Anyhoo... I'mina go make a coupla grilled cheeses and some chicken noodle soup then go to sleep til, hopefully, some time in '07. Or, at least until waaay later today. Then, once I regain consciousness, I have a house needs cleaning, animals who're gonna need tending and of course, after that, yet more horseshit to get rid of.
See why I wanna sleep til next year?
*rolls eyes* Again... aaaaaanyway, thank you all again so very much.
I wish I could articulate how fuckin' awesome you all are for whatcha've done for Norm. Just wow... *update a coupla minutes later* Duuuhhhh... *wipes drool off chin and whacks side of head to uncross eyes* I s'pose it might help a bit if I were to re-post his addresses, huh?
(Told ya's I'm tired...) Here dey is: Email:
UFCUSMA at Yahoo dot com Snail mail:
LCpl Norman W. Vanaman III
1st MLG HQ CO PRP
Unit 42175
FPO AP 96426-2175
Posted by: Stevie at 10:42 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
This is Charlie Sheen, Cappy...
*fanning self rapidly*
Posted by: Stevie at 06:00 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 17, 2006
Here it is, 1:00am, I hafta be up in, like, 4 or 5 hours and here I sit...
Reading this lunatic.
Found out about him in Rob's comments, from some guy named Cappy. (Can't go wrong listening to a guy who shares his name with a character played by Charlie Sheen in "Lucas". Not ever, man...) Anyway, to quote Ratman talking to Lloyd Henried about Trashcan Man in The Stand... "This dude is cray-zeee."As in "damned near made me snot Capt'n Crunch out my nose." It was his post about GQ and the male model contained therein who he said "looks like a Victorian chair covered in broccoli vomit..." Oh.
My.
God. This guy is more bent-headed than I even am.
He's made me laugh so hard I nearly choked about 72 times already.
That, in addition to the Capt'n Crunch incident... And, now it's after 1:00am and I'm still awake, damn it and I hafta go to bed, but... I DON'T WANT TO!!!!
I don't wanna stop reading this nutjob til I have read every single post! But, I'm gonna.
My hand to God, I. am. going. to. bed.
Right now.
Not after "one more post".
NOW. I've been doing that "go to bed after one more post" shit for the last hour or more.
That hasn't been workin' for me. So, fuck it.
I blogrolled his ass and told ya'll about him too and now I know exactly what I'll be doing tomorrow after work. Reading myself squinty-eyed.
That's what.
Just like I just did. Seriously, the guy is fuckin' AWESOME.
Go check him out, but ONLY if ya don't hata be anywhere for about a MONTH. Peace...
Posted by: Stevie at 01:16 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 16, 2006
Okay, now....
I think someone is taking the whole "saving baby's first things" stuff a liiiittle too far.
Check out this ad I found in the local Merchandiser. Second one down.I canNOT believe they have the same mistake online...
Well, at least they're consistant.
ADIOS KENNELS: Pups available. Bostons, Cock-A-Poo, Lhasa, Bichons, Yorkie-Poo, Poodles, Jack Russell, Miniature Schnauzer, Shih-Tzu, Shiba. $150 and up. FOR SALE 2 female Jack Russell puppies, ready to go. Parents on premises. First shits. HUGE SIDEWALK Sale this weekend only!! Selected items 40-80% off-- leashes, collars, pet totes, bandanas, carriers, beds, sweaters, jackets, etc. New arrivals: Japanese Chin, Pomeranians, Mini Dachshunds, Shih Tzus, Cockapoo/ Lhasa, Yorkies, Chihuahuas. Walk-In Grooming now available Saturday and Sunday, The Petite Puppy Boutique, located in downtown Gettysburg, just off the square at 51A-B Chambersburg Street. MIXED JACK Russell $100 or $150 with cage. PUPPIES: Labradoodles, Cocker Spaniels, Poodles, German Shepherd, Schnoodles, Shih Tzus, Boston Terrier, Jack Russells, Chihuahuas. Visa accepted. F.V. KENNEL.Just what every new Jack Russell Terrier owner needs... little petrified souveniers.
Posted by: Stevie at 09:56 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Now for another, slightly different, kind of "horrifying" picture...
And yes, I know this poor guy is like... a hundred now, but jeeezus, man...
She looks like a cross between a shark and an Osmond. This is the hottie I remember...
Posted by: Stevie at 09:41 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Ya know...
You can try to justify this shit any way ya want.
You can spew meaningless words til your tongue falls out.
There is something fundamentally WRONG with a brain that says, "Why yes. This is a fine activity. What fun. How "necesary". What a good thing this is I am doing." No. You're a pyschopath.
A heartless, cold, unfeeling piece of shit.
Just like anyone esle is who advocates, agrees with or participates in this kind of twisted, inhumane, unnecessary, disgusting, horrific slaughter.
And, I am CONVINCED that there is a special place in hell for you barberic bastards.
Right alongside the inhuman species who condone horse slaughter.
(And, did you know the goddamned American Quarter Horse Ass'n. supports that practice? Un-fuckin'-believable.)
This is what you lamely try to justify.
This is what fuels horseshit organizations like PETA, who have sooo lost sight of what the fuckin' point is. You "people" are sweaty-donkey-ball-suckin', sorry-assed excuses for humans.
End of fuckin' story. Oh, and thanks a pantload of SHIT, DREW, for bringing this to my attention.
Posted by: Stevie at 07:39 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 15, 2006
He loves me, he loves me not...
Lately my life has been like a giant flower, with each day being a petal picked off signifying "He loves me, He loves me not".
"He" being God...
I'm that relieved.
I'm that happy. *coupla minutes later* So.
How does one even get so emotionally invested in a person they've not met in person? Fuck if I know, but it can happen and did with Mike. From day one, there's just been something about him... And, I don't think I'd have even been open to it, if it weren't for Paul.
He was the first.
And, he's been "the longest". Both of these guys are just wonderful people and I think of them both as "best friends" of mine.
As in, (I hope) they both know they can always turn to me, tell me anything and it'll never change how I feel about 'em.
I can also tell them anything and they don't get grossed out, either. I've never met either of them "in person", though I have spoken to Paul on the phone more times than I can even begin to count. Probably almost as many times as I've given Mike my cell number since January... Paul "found" me when I was in a hell I could never have conceived. It was so bad, I didn't even know how bad it really was.
But... he did.
And, he got me out of it.
He didn't leave me there to flounder and die.
He pulled me, kinda "slingshot"-ed me ahead a bit, then I'd do the same for him til we were both back on more solid ground about things. Since then, it doesn't matter how long it is between talks, we just pick up like it was yesterday and go on to the next thing.
And, we both know we'll always be able to do that. A few months after Paul had pulled most of my head outta my ass, along comes Mike. Great guy, he is.
Very nice looking, very intelligent, sweet, kind hearted, great sense of humor... just a quality man.
I liked him tremendously even before I found out he'd been in the second tower on "that" day. After I found out?
Well, hell... now I'd kill for the guy.
On top of how utterly cool he is, he went through that?
That's enough "bad" for a lifetime, so woe be unto any fool who tries to hurt him now, know what I mean? Well, he does, so I guess it's okay if you don't... *smile* Anyway, the longer I "know" him, the more I just love him.
I use the quotes around the word "know" because I've not met him face-to-face, nor even spoken to him on the phone (he hates phones), though I did get to hear his voice today. I called him at work and got his voicemail.
Twice. Hey man... it's been MONTHS since he's said a word anywhere and it's not like I didn't say I was gonna... Anyway, that resulted in an email or two and now I feel ever s'much better. He sounds great, too... God, I miss him.
Hope he gets back to blogging soon. Rob too, for that matter.
Just like Mad Mikey did... thank God Almighty. No, I may not understand how it is you can come to love people so very much that you've never met, but I can tell ya... it does happen.
Even to me, Miss I-Hate-People....
Which just goes to show ya just how wonderful these people are... Brooklyn Mikey
Paul
Mad Mikey
Rob.... I can't and don't wanna even imagine how empty my life would be without y'all. So, please don't make me.
'Kay?
Mike? Just knowing you guys are out there somewhere helps more than I can say. (Now, everybody else, click the extended entry...) Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 06:38 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 13, 2006
First decent "normal" night in over a week....
Yes, it's finally here.
My first good day/night since that firebug fuckhole showed up here last week... or was it the week before that?
I dunno.
Seems like forever ago...
(I keep thinking about what coulda happened if all of my books had been involved last Tuesday... not only could they fuel a fire that could burn down the world, her burning up my books is MORE than a justifiable reason for murder, in my opinion.) And, the only reason I'm even thinking about her tonight is that she called George again today, the stupid cuntbag. He thinks hearing "fuck off" from him may solve the problem, but has promised me the next shot at her WHEN she does it again... Wanna make a pool up as to when that'll be? I'm gonna go with "tomorrow morning, before 7:30 am..." Other than that, everything is fine.
And, I'm so exhausted from it all, I oughta be a tailpipe.
So, on that note, I'm goin' ta bed. Gotta be up early to fork that shit and drive that tractor, as opposed to whatever the real "tote that whatever, heave that other thing" saying is...
I'm so tired, I can't remember it...
*lol* I'm outta here.
Tawk to yiz tomorra... Peace, y'all.
Posted by: Stevie at 11:03 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Email meme from Mary...
Place an X by all the things you've done, or remove the X from the ones you have not, and send it to all of your friends.
This is for your entire life: (X) Smoked a cigarette(X) Drank so much you threw up
( ) Crashed a friend's car
( ) Stolen a car
(X) Been in love
(X) Been dumped
(X) Dumped somebody
( ) Shoplifted
(X) Been laid off/fired
(X) Quit your job
( ) Been in a fist fight
(X) Snuck out of your parent's house
(X) Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back
(X) Been arrested
( ) Gone on a blind date
(X) Skipped school
(X) Seen someone die
( ) Been to Canada
( ) Been to Mexico
(X) Been on a plane
(X) Been lost
(X) Been on the opposite side of the country
(X) Gone to Washington, DC
(X) Swam in the ocean
(X) Felt like dying (physically, not emotionally)
(X) Cried yourself to sleep
( ) Played cops and robbers
(X) Recently colored with crayons
(X) Sang karaoke
(X) Paid for a meal with only coins
(X) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't
(X) Made prank phone calls
(X) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose
(X) Caught a snowflake on your tongue
(X) Danced in the rain
(X) Written a letter to Santa Claus
(X) Been kissed under the mistletoe
(X) Watched the sun rise with someone you care about
(X) Blown bubbles
( ) Made a bonfire on the beach
( ) Crashed a party
(X) Gone roller-skating
(X ) Gone ice skating
Any nicknames? Dickweed, Stevie, Sweetie, Yo, That Bitch, etc. What is your favorite drink? Sweet Iced Tea & coffee. Tattoos? Nooo, not yet. Body piercing's? No
Ears only? Yes.
How much do you love your job? A lot Favorite vacation spot? What's a vacation? Ever been to Africa? No Ever steal a traffic sign? No Ever been in a car accident? Yes
2 Door or 4 Door? 4 door Salad dressing? Zesty Italian that ya make by adding water and vinegar and shaking in that carafe lookin' thing.
Favorite pie? Apple
Favorite Number? 14 Favorite movie? Dirty Dancing, Godfather, Full Metal Jacket, Weekend at Bernie's, Porky's, Bio-Dome, Private Parts, Star 80, Animal House, NatLamp's Family Vacation, Helter Skelter, Mommie Dearest... I can go on for hours, here... Favorite holiday? They're all a pain in my ass, but if I hafta choose one, I'd say Easter because it comes in the Spring and I do like coloring eggs, kids or not.
Favorite food? Steak, lobster, salad, asparagus, broccoli and Stouffer's Swedish Meatballs to name but a few. Favorite day of the week? Tuesday night, when I took that firebug BITCH back to Jersey... other than that, whichever day doesn't contain some kinda horseshit problem designed to give me an ass ache. Favorite brand of body soap? Lever 2000 liquid soap Favorite TV show? Daria, All in the Family, M*A*S*H, Home Improvement, The Flintstones, King of Queens, Friends... shall I go on? Toothpaste? Colgate with Whitening shit Favorite smell? Freshly opened Copenhagen Long Cut, puppy breath, coffee, burning "weeds", burning leaves (but NOT burning bathrooms), horse shit, cow shit, rain soaked asphalt, clean house, Playdoh, crayons and Drakkar.
What do you do to relax? Fork horseshit, watch TV, get online and putz around, ride a horse or read.
Message to your friends reading this? Love you guys!! How do you see yourself in 10 years? With Eric, more ready cash, lotsa horses, other assorted critters and happy, or dead.
What do you do when you are bored? Read, watch TV, think too much, blog and get into trouble, usually. What do you enjoy receiving? My paycheck, emails from Darrel among a few other cool people *grin* (Mary...), bad news about buttholes, reasons to laugh (though that's kinda the same as the last answer, I know...), email forwards from Cat, comments from Rob, foot squishes from Eric... all kindsa stuff, basically. I'm easy to please in that way. What time is it now? 10:46 PM- time for my ass to git to bed.
Posted by: Stevie at 10:47 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 12, 2006
Found the flooring we need...
Right in the attic, too.
Found juuuust enough paneling (panelling?- whatever..) in the attic of the milking parlor and found a big ol' hunka carpet, a dusty rose color, in the attic of the house.
And, wonder of wonders... it's big enough.
That's a big damned bathroom up there and we thought it was gonna take a few bucks to re-floor it, but... *grin* We got lucky on that one.
I fucked up and forgot it... gee, wonder why? But Progressive is a good company and I got my shit straight with an agent up in town here the same day I got the "you fucked up" notice. Hell, she even had to get another agency involved because her computer's system was having a nervous breakdown while I was there Friday, but she got it done and I'm good to go, so good on ya, Progressive. NEXTEL, however, is starting to really piss me off.
Can't get through from one farm to the next half the time, their service reps are retarded and I truly believe they make up then change their rules as they go along.
I was talking to Eric by radio yesterday and all of a sudden, it won't go through anymore.
Radio's charged. I put 'em both on the charges.
Eric's not in the habit of shutting off his radio mid-conversation.
So, I called 'em and asked just what in the HELL the problem was this time.
They had no answer, naturally, but the snotty fuckin' cunt on the phone did inform me that they don't DO payment arrangements and that I was due to have my service interrupted THAT DAY unless I shit and sent $157.
Excuse me?
I made arrangements to pay this bill off in less than a month, at the rate of $50 a week which I was going to go do as soon as I was done work.
Not good enough for that whore.
So, I demanded to speak to a supervisor.
Cunt puts me on hold, then drops the call. Man, I got so pissed off I threw my phone across the damned driveway. Then, I went and picked it back up and called them AGAIN.
Got a cool guy named Brian that time and IN TEARS, I was so pissed, I told him the whooooole story and he at least tried to help. I still had to make a huge payment yesterday, but he did drop it down some and now I don't hafta worry about the every week shit, but I'm tellin' ya... I HAVE HAD ENOUGH NOW. The fact that I haven't YET ended up atop a silo with a bag of rocks, if not a rifle, added to the fact that I haven't gotten stoned in over a month, is a blue-eyed miracle.
After this past week, I'm beginning to wonder if God is trying to force me to find a new source, ya know?
But that can't be... not with me having to hand out wads of friggin' cash every day...
So... what IS the damned deal here? Just life, I suppose.
Just life being it's normal aggravating self.
*rolls eyes*
Well, wonderful.
(not) Then, just now, I check my email and not only did Dad manage to get through (the computer he uses at work has "issues" sometimes, like I have periods, I think), but I also got an email/comment from.... *trumpet blare* ROB FUCKIN' FAY, YAY!!!!! Man, I haven't heard from him since we moved here and George did just ask me on the way home from Jersey Tuesday night if I'd heard from him lately and I had to say I hadn't, but I have NOW!!!! Now, all I hafta do is get him out here.
AFTER the bathroom is done.... I wanna show him Hank, that stallion at work.
He'll FLIP when he sees him. George got to meet Hank yesterday.
Even George is impressed with this magnificent creature and he's not really a "horse person", but that's just how awesome Hank is. Even to the untrained eye, it's obvious the quality this horse has... Anyway, I need to go get my shit in gear and go get rid of some horse shit.
Then, I gotta come home and clean the house... *dramatic sigh*
Think I'd rather make a bet that I'll eat a shit sandwich and if I do, someone else hasta clean, ya know?
Be easier, I swear... Oh and Nurse-type chick who wrote me from "HCA health care" and asked me if I'm the same Stevie she was writing to before... Yep. It's me.
I'll try to email ya back later today, if I can, but meantime, I wanted to letcha know "you got me"... *grin* And, Farmer Mary... I fully intend to do that quiz/meme thing ya sent me and post it here AND, I'd love to know Darrel's answers to that... *grin* Yeah, I need to write to him again, too...
Some day...
And Rob.
Gotta give him and Acidman Rob and Cat my new cell number. Also still wondering what the fuck is going on with Brooklyn Mike, too, now that I think about people having my cell number.
I've given it to HIM approximately 972 times and still he hasn't used it, blogged or commented since the first week of January. Aaaaggghhhh... can't thin about this now.
Must go to work.
Have shit to do.
Will deal with Mad William Flint's ass on Monday, when I can call the financial institution type place where he works in NYC and don't think I won't.
It's been more than long enough now.
Plus, I've still got some balls left from that crap yesterday, so I think I'll use 'em. Consider yerself warned, Michael.
Officially warned.
If I don't hear something, ANYTHING, from you by the end of today, expect a call at work.
You know me.
You know I'm crazy enough and I love ya enough to do it.
So don't bet I won't... Okay.
I'm outta here and if anybody else is gonna try to extort money from me in the name of "bills", yer just gonna hafta piss up a rope til next Friday, 'cause I have NO MONEY LEFT NOW.
'Kay?
Got it, World-at-Large?
NO MORE CASH ON ME.
So, don't even ask.
Ya turd-burglers... Peace, the rest of y'all....
Posted by: Stevie at 07:02 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 11, 2006
Got to admit, it's gettin' better, gettin' better all the time...
Cool song.
I used to hear it in commercials for Phillips.
And, it is true.
Also replaced the blind, the melted toilet flush handle and my Glade Plugin/Nightlight.
Also found enough "scrap" paneling to repair what's toasted.
All that's left is the floor.
And... George used to be a floor installation specialist for a major national company, soooo... that's as good as "handled", too, thank Gawd. And... the best news of all... that dumb bitch actually didn't call him even once today.
Yay her. (/sarcasm)
Even if she can't get the message, it seems her mother can.
*golf clap* Whatever, ya know?
Long as it worked for the guy, I'm happy and so is he. Now... about this house. Cheese and rice krispies, who threw the bomb in here, anyway?
That's what it looks like happened.
Since Tuesday, and with a blackened-like-a-Cajun-cooked-meal bathroom, I kinda haven't had the "motivation" to keep up with the house the last coupla days.
Plus, I've moved on from using the skid loader to forking shit right into the spreader again.
S'okay, though.
Using the loader for as long as I did seems to have helped my shoulder enough so that it doesn't hurt at all doing it this way now.
Besides which... it's faster anyway.
And, I'm the one driving the tractor and spreader into and through the barn, so there's no rebuilding necessary after I get done.
*cheesy grin* So, when I get home from work tomorrow, this house's ass is mine.
George is gonna be working on the bathroom wall and whatnot and I'll be making the rest of the house look good again. And, speaking of commercials, which I did in the first sentence or so...
I have a new "most stupid commercial ever" candidate... It's for some chick pit-stick, some "clear" crap. (I, myself, use Old Spice Sport. Yeah, the men's stuff. It smells GREAT and works even better.) Anyway, the shit is called "little black dress approved", whatever the brand name is and the woman in the commercial is just about the dumbest bitch I've ever seen, this side of the one who torched my potty. To be able to dress her stupid self without getting pit stick whiteness all over her dress, she leaps, headfirst, out a window, into the dress and lands in a bush.
She then stands up and extends her hand to catch her purse. Now, that's just dumb in and of itself, but... allow me to point out the depths to which the stupidity really goes.... IT'S A LITTLE BLACK SLEEVELESS DRESS!!!! Can she not put on said dress and merely lift her arms straight up to apply the pit stick, fer the love of all that is holy?
I mean, it IS a little black dress with no sleeves.
How hard could it possibly be for her to smear the shit in her armpits without getting it all over her dress?
Jeezus, ya know? She seems to have muscular control over her arms, as she does reach out to catch her stupid purse, but, apparently, she has the mental capacity of a coat hanger because she deems it necessary to leap out a window to accomplish the task of properly dressing herself without ending up with white deodorant boogers from head to toe. Know what I wish? I wish the commercial consisted of her jumping out the window headfirst and landing on her apparently empty head on the sidewalk.
Just splat.
End of commercial, fade to black and back to the show. Screw that deodorant too, if you have to be that brainless to use it. Who writes that shit?
Who approves it? I mean, the commercial is so incredibly lame that I can't even remember what deodorant it's for, nor do I care. There's another one that also drives me bugshit, but I can't remember right now what it's even about, let alone for, I'm so wiped out tired. But, I do love those dopey Vonage commercials with that retarded "whoo whoo" song.... *giggle*
I sing with 'em every time I see one. Yes, I know.
I need to go to bed, but I'm making a pot of coffee for the morning and I've allowed my dopey self to get sucked into this stupid Real World/Road Rules Gauntlet 2 shit again. I've been hoping to see someone kill that twat, Beth.
Her whole team wanted to kill her, she's such a whiny loser, but they didn't get the chance.
Just when she was supposed to face this one chick who hated her the most in the Gauntlet, she punked out, refused to participate and was sent home. I honestly don't know why MTV even bothers with her any more. She sucked as a young woman in Real World San Fransico and she sucks even worse as an older one. She's gonna be one of those old ladies that the whole neighborhood hates and the local teenagers torment to death.
You know, the one who is totally miserable and bitchy to everybody and who lives alone til she dies in a house fulla cats, newspapers and trash.
Probably with bright red lipstick smeared around her mouth from nose to chin and caked on her snaggly teeth.
Like Baby Jane Hudson. Unless she does the world a favor and offs herself sometime sooner.
Can't BE soon enough, either...
Just ask anybody from any of these shows who's had to deal with her. Aaaanyway... the shows over now, finally, and she got sent home, yay.
Bet the coffee is done, too.
Gonna toddle off to bed now. Got things to see and people to do tomorrow, don'tcha know. Peace, y'all...
*grin*
Posted by: Stevie at 12:15 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 10, 2006
And, the shit goes on... la dee dah dee dah...
(That's supposed to come out sounding like that Sonny & Cher song, by the way...)
I know it may seem like I'm never gonna stop talking about this goofy bitch and what she did to my house, but... HOPEFULLY, this'll be it... about her anyway.BUT, I'm betting there's gonna be at least one more time and you'll see why by the time I'm done here.
(Besides which, I'm pretty sure as we fix the bathroom, I'll be talkin' about that, too, but not so much in a "wow, unbelivable!", still half-pissed kinda way, like I do her... Like this is about to be...) The more time that goes by, the more time I spend forking shit and trying NOT to think about "what if" and "holy SHIT" and such, the more things hit me about what exactly did and didn't go on that day. What did go on was SHE SET MY HOUSE ON FIRE!!! FUCK, MAN!!! Yeah, that's still freakin' me out a bit ever' now and again.
Especially the "what if" parts.
Like, what if I hadn't been here?
What if I hadn't done just what I did and got it put out?
What if the I hadn't emptied that trashcan the night before and it was still full of tissues, toilet paper rolls and dryer lint? That sumbitch woulda had the bathroom too fully engulfed for me to stop it, that much I know...
What if the house HAD burned to the ground and all of my stuff, all of my animals and ME... what if it was all gone/dead?
What if, what if, what IF... ya know? What didn't happen is still pissing me off the more of it that occurs to me.
What didn't happen includes, but is not limited to:
Her trying in any way to put it out or to even help.
Her using her cell phone, my cell phone or the landline to call 911.
Her bothering to even go over to the milking parlor, which is about 20 feet away and was filled with men milking cows to tell them to call 911 or to even tell 'em what was going on and that I mighta needed help whilst she was already halfway there peeing the damned dog.
Her not ONCE apologizing, not even an "I didn't do it, but I am sorry it happened..." All I got was "I didn't do it", which is pure bullshit.
(She's since admitted that much in a voicemail on George's phone... Her exact words were "I apologize for the big mess which I totally did..." which was just empty horseshit she thought George wanted to hear designed to get him to relent and call her, which he didn't do... I promise you, she's not one damned bit sorry, beyond being a sorry excuse for a human being.) This chick is beyond unbelievable.
Since Tuesday, she's called George no less than 15 times.
He's not talked to her once.
He just selects "no" when his phone asks if he wants to take the call and she gets sent right to voicemail. She takes hints less well than the average man, I swear. He's been thinking about calling Nextel and having his number changed, but he's got an assload of people he'd have to notify and it's a pain in the ass that she's not worth, so "we" came up with an alternative solution for that. I got involved.
*shit eating, evil grin* He's had me listen to each of her voicemails as a witness/backup kinda thing.
Plus, he just wants someone else to hear this garbage so if he ever wonders if he did the right thing, like if she kills herself or something, he'll not be alone with his head about it, if ya know what I mean. So, this evening, after having heard alla these moronic voicemails in which she first admits guilt and apologizes to him, mind you, then cops an attitude because he hasn't called her back, when she called for about the fourth time since he got home from work, let alone all day, I answered his phone. I started out with, "What the FUCK do you want? How stupid are you, anyway? Can you not get the hint that George does NOT want to talk to you anymore? Just what in the hell is your problem?" She says, "I wanna talk to George." I come back with, "People in hell want ice water, that don't mean they git it."
(Thank you, Patsy Cline, for that one...) I then proceeded to "explain" to her, in no uncertain terms, that George is done. Quits. Wants nothing more to do with her ever. They're not "dating". They're not "together" and haven't been since he dumped her ass in February and I know allll about that, they're not getting married, she's not moving anywhere with him ever and I've heard every single one of her messages and if she continues this horseshit, he's gonna change his number.
NOT TO EVEN MENTION... the guy he's working for now has work lined up for the next year and a half AND he's got an apartment for George already, he's not gonna be coming back to Jersey for a long while and, frankly, he wants her to fuck off already, fer Christ's sake.
(All of which is 100% true, by the way...) Her response?
"Whatever", hanging up and having her mother call. We had a more civilized conversation, her mother and I did. I basically told her that her daughter needs professional help, George can't "fix" her or her life for her and doesn't want her bothering him anymore, she's lying to her about what went on up here and the amount of the damage done to the bathroom. I told her I knew all about the breakup and the bullshit that followed it last month and that George and the rest of us feel he's been being used since day one, having to buy everybody's cigarettes and other assorted miscellaneous shit down there and being made to feel obligated to take half the family out with them when he did go places with her daughter and that I feel for her, I really do, that her daughter is 30 friggin' years old and there's no reason she should be putting up with her and her crap anymore what with the health problems she and her husband have. She asked about the money from her daughter that was used for them to get here and I said, "Oh, that. Well, that'll be going to the repair of the bathroom instead of being paid back, PLUS there's about $500.00 dollars worth of my personal effects that were lost in the fire, not to mention however much the repairs will be, the guy who owns this house is beyond pissed off about the whole thing and that if the little dipshit persists in harassing George, I will see to it that the man gets her information to sue for damages BUT if you make sure your daughter fucks off, I'll arrange it so that she doesn't get sued. Sound fair to you?", I asked. It did. Then, I told her I know damned well her daughter IS gonna keep it up and asked her if she wants to be told if she does and she said yes. So, I told her I'd do her that courtesy and reiterated that if it does happen, even ONE MORE call, all bets are off. The number will be changed and they will be getting a bill... a HUGE bill and that the owner of the house has money and can afford all kindsa lawyers. Somewhere in there, in the midst of the "I know he broke up with her and got manipulated into talking to her again", I added that George is just too nice for his own good some times, but that "I'm not, though..."
I even told the woman that, while she was here, I was meaner to the girl than I ever have been to anyone before in my life because I knew beforehand what they'd done to George and STILL she doesn't get it, that even after burning up the damned bathroom, she was still trying to engage me in casual conversation just before she got dropped off. "Do ya see now just how screwed UP she is? I mean, Jeezus, ya know?" And, just to make absolutely sure I'd gotten the point across, I once again said, "I don't know if you need to take her phone away NOW or what, but WHEN she calls him the next time, his number is getting changed and I'm gonna nail her ass to the WALL for the damages, okay? You do understand that, right?" She said she does. Yeah.
We'll see, hence the "may be one more of these posts" part at the beginning of this. While I must admit that a part of me enjoyed the HELL out of it, getting alla that off my chest and all, I really do not appreciate being pushed into being such a supreme bitch, ya know? How can people so stupid, so lacking in brain function, even LIVE? Isn't a functioning brain a requirement for being alive?
Damn.
I always thought it was only COWS (and most dairy farmers-WALLY!!! BILL!!!) who are able to pull that off. I WAS WRONG!!!! Apparently people totally lacking brain function CAN be alive and not ALL dairy farmers are morons. Fine.
I can admit when I'm wrong. I'm not wrong about this bitch, though.
Not even a little bit. She IS truly fucked up mentally and she WILL try calling George again, just wait. When she does, he'll change the number and then they get to wait with bated breath for the big, badassed bill.
Just knowing how freaked out they'll be by that may be enough, especially after I call her mother and tell her she did it again...
And, ya know what?
I love that.
They DESERVE that and more. But, I'll tell ya what... she calls again after that... I most certainly WILL follow through.
Count on it. Like I said to Eric and George earlier... I faced down Eric's BC, what on EARTH could possibly phase me after that?
Nuthin', that's what.
Not one damned thing, especially when it comes to helping out/protecting someone I care about. One last thing... I hafta say this here, since I haven't said it to George... I'm compelled to say this, before my head explodes... I told him going out with her, or anyone who is friends with Eric's BC, is a baaaaad idea. *aaaahhhh*
I feel ever s'much better now. And, I'm now laughing my butt off... thank God. I cannot believe this shit.
I hate drama.
I live to AVOID drama.
But, it IS nice to know I can rise up righteously and smite perpetrators of it when the need arises. "Don't fuck with the Bull, you'll get the horns."
(Oh my Gawd, I can't believe I just said that. I hate that line and the dickwad principal in The Breakfast Club who says that to Bender, though he pusses out with "mess with". Makes me wanna throat punch him every time I watch that movie... *rolling eyes*) (But, apparently, it IS true. Who'da thunk?) And, in case yer wondering, George was less than 15 feet from me through both conversations and was even adding things for me to repeat to both of them. Sometimes, people just need an Enforcer. *coupla minutes later* I need to get my ass to bed.
Only bad thing about it is that I hafta go to the bathroom and NOW, I hate having to do that.
Every time I go in there and see the burnt floor, the burnt wall, all the things missing... it just brings it all right back to me.
Every time I go in there, I can't help but say "Fuckin' cunt..."
Every time I go in there, it pisses me OFF. God, I can't wait til we get it put back right.
I can't wait to not have to smell it, or see it, or think about it any more.
Can't wait, but I have to.
Another day or two, at most.
Man... Anyway, I'm off to bad.
Gotta be up early, as usual, and I haven't slept right since Tuesday yet.
When I do get to sleep, it's good, great even, but I keep avoiding going upstairs til I can't see straight, hoping I can fake my way through the "bathroom" part... but, it doesn't work and all that happens is I don't get enough of that good sleep and I feel like hell when I wake up.
Then, I get pissed all over again when I go to take a piss when I get up. Gotta get this over with, fixed and behind me before I go the hell off again, but on the wrong person probably, ya know? Okay then, here I go... Peace, y'all...
Posted by: Stevie at 12:29 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 08, 2006
We're back and she is gone...
George and I ran her fat, stupid, useless, irresponsible, denying ass back to Jersey and now we're back.
It's midnight.
We'd stopped at the last rest area on the Pa turnpike to pee and switch drivers, as I do NOT do the Shure-kill Expressway. (I drove almost all the way there... 75-80 MPH, too, lem'me tell ya. I figured fuck it, if I get stopped, after I tell the cop why I'm speeding, he'd not only let me go, he may even give me an escort to get rid of her faster....)
Anyway, George and I got outta the car, did what we had to do and when we got back in, he lit a cigarette, then I did, then she did. Then she said, "I didn't wanna be smoking in here without somebody else here..." Do what??? I almost bit my tongue off to keep from asking her, "Why? You afraid yer gonna burn up my CAR now, ya fuckhead?" If that wasn't a tacit admission of guilt, then I never heard one. Dumb bitch. Now that I'm no longer freakin' out, nor stressed outta my mind, here's what happened... I got off work at around 1pm.
I took my time there and was takin' it easy on my shoulder, plus, with her here, I was in no hurry to get home.
After I left there, I ran to the store for a coupla things.
Then, I got back here and was starving, so I made myself a huge hamburger and ate it with no bun, just scallions and ketchup. I was sittin' in the kitchen, watching some stupid dating show on MTV... Date My Mom, or some such silliness, when she hollers down, "Your bathroom is on fire..." "Da fuck you mean "my bathroom's on fire"?" "It's on fire." I took the stairs two at a time and ran into the thickest smoke since the smoke house at the training center and saw three seperate fires happening. One was the trashcan.
One was my toilet seat and the third was this wicker shelf thingy above the toilet tank. I punched the wicker thing off the wall, threw a throw rug (no pun intended) over the trashcan and stomped on it and ran into the next (bed)room to get something to use with water to put out the toilet.
It happened to be a figgin' butter dish I was using to water the cat in that room. I can distinctly remember telling her (the cat, this is), "I need to borrow this. I'll be back later with it...", as if she gave a fuck, right? *rolls eyes* I take this "I can't believe it's not butter" dish into the bathroom, turn on both sink faucets full blast and started heaving water around like... like an irrigation hose. Meanwhile, every intake of breath, I hafta run out of the bathroom, leap down/over three steps to the landing, drop to my knees and suck air in thru the window.
I finally realized I needed to put my shirt over my nose and that made it so I could take two or three breaths at a time in there. I finally got all the flames out and was storming out the front door to go tell Eric what had just happened. I grabbed the doorknob, jerked the door open and almost flung the fat bitch halfway to the stairs because she was just coming back in from having peed George's dog. How fucked up is that?
Set my bathroom aflame, then go la dee dah, taking a dog out to pee....
Jeezus. That was when I asked her what the hell she'd done and she admitted to having been in there, but denied setting the fire. I pretty much covered the chaos of the next several minutes earlier, when I did the first post. George got home and we got the money from Eric's boss and we took her ass home.
She is NEVER coming back here.
Thank Gawd. I'll be cleaning up what I can of it tomorrow (later today, I guess really) when I get home from work.
And, between me, George and Eric's boss, we have pretty much figured out how to repair the damage.
As for replacing my belongings that got burnt all to hell... I'll take it as it goes with that, I guess.
Some of the shit, I can never "replace", because I got it out of my Pop-pop's house when I cleaned it out years ago.
For that, I'll hate her forever. But, I'll also be grateful beyond words that it wasn't any worse and that it happened when I was here to stop it. I've never had a fire before like this and I never want another. Eric was scared spitless that his boss was gonna be pissed at us for this and want us to leave.
He's not and he doesn't. In fact, he said outright that he doesn't blame us for this and that he's glad I was here and was able to contain it and end it as quickly as I did.
Eric told me that by radio as I was speeding toward Jersey. So... sooner and much more dramatically than I could have ever guessed, I have my home, my life and my privacy back.
We also have George back for a while... *grin*
I like that. I think it's kinda neat/weird/cool how he and Eric and I keep ending up together.
He lived with us for over two years back in Bucks County and here we go again... * bigger grin* There's just something kinda neat about it 'cause we all get along so well.
It's like having a family again.
An odd family, yes, but one where everybody truly likes (if not loves) each other, looks out for each other and helps each other out.
How could ya not like that? So, now I get to have a great husband-type of guy (Eric) and a really cool big brother/Dad-type of guy (George). And, I get to hang with, look after and take care of two really great guys.
I do enjoy doing that.
Even when it gets aggravating, I like it, deep down.
Lets me feel useful and appreciated.
And, my attitude with her notwithstanding, I really do like taking care of people, feeding people, sharing my interests with and teaching people about stuff like the horses and shit. Plus, it's a little easier financially with there being three people pulling the load.
If "two can live as cheaply as one", then three can live as cheaply as two, but with more ready cash. I'd say "know what I mean?", but hardly anyone ever really does... *smile* *big deep breath* Gawd, does it feel ever s'much better knowing she's gone.
Even with my melted, blackened and smoke-stinky bathroom, it feels way much better now around here.
And, it will be better now. We'll take care of the damage and we'll take care of each other again for a while and have fun while we do. And, I thank God for that... among other things tonight.
(When I think of what could have happened... my God...) Okay then... before I start bawling, I'm going to sleep.
I've had one hell of a day. Peace, y'all...
Posted by: Stevie at 12:47 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 07, 2006
This motherfucking cunt just damned near burnt this house down!!!!!
I'm still wiggin' the fuck right out because I just had to LITERALLY FIGHT a fire in the goddamned bathroom, that no good fuckin' piece of shit CUNT!!!
She caused a HUGE fire in the goddamned bathroom!!!!
I did that when I was telling him, Eric and the bosses son about the fuckin' fire. Thank God Himself for alla my fire training and shit... Man, that worthless piece of subhuman shit coulda burnt this house DOWN.
Coulda killed alla my animals. Fuck, I damned near choked to death my own self trying to breathe in there while I was punching flaming shit offa the walls and flinging water all over the fuckin' place like a lawn sprinker on steroids. My throat is still raw from it and I stink of it.
I smell like acrid "house fire" smoke. So does the rest of the fuckin' HOUSE. I can "read" the scene in there and I KNOW it started in the trashcan.
Hell, I don't even HAVE a trashcan anymore.
It's gone completely.
As is most of the shit that was hanging above the now half burned toilet.
The seat is GONE from that, the flush handle is melted, alla my hair shit is gone, the wall is black from the floor to over my head and the floor is fucked too. Have you ever seen a foot long Glade plug in? I have one NOW. It was way above the trashcan, plugged into a wall socket.
And, yes, I am absolutely sure it didn't start with that.
All that is is tanned and melted halfway to the floor.
If the fire had started in that, there'd be no "gone" trashcan or damage to the toilet seat, floor and lower wall.
I've had fire training... lots of it and I was a fireman before.
I know what I'm looking at.
And, I know who did it, accidentally or not, I KNOW WHO DID IT. While I'm fighting this fucking fire, SHE'S out peeing George's dog.
Stupid fucking cunt!
That's how fucking concerned SHE was about it.
AND THEN, she can't even cop to it. I said, or snarled, to her, "What da fuck'd you DO? Put a cigarette out and then empty the fuckin' ashtray into the trash?!!?" "Noooo, all I did was go in there to pee..." (/whiney voice) "Well, yer one up on ME. I haven't even been in there since I got home!! You are OUTTA HERE TONIGHT!!!!!" I suppose she expects me to believe the fuckin' dryer lint and empty toilet paper rolls in the trashcan spontaneously combusted allllll on their own, right?
I mean, shit, bathroom trashcans just ALWAYS burst into fuckin' flame all by themselves.
Fuckin' CUNT!
Fuckin' lying useless cuntbag whore. Never fuckin' again.
She is LEAVING and never coming here agin.
EVER.
Posted by: Stevie at 04:38 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 06, 2006
Okay, I don't know who exactly is doing what, but God bless ya and please don't stop... yet...
First off, she's being taken outta here Saturday night.
She doesn't know that yet... but she is.
*Hee-UGE grin*
Of course, I "helped" her decide to do that by shutting off both TV's down here and hiding alla the remotes so she couldn't use 'em and I knew she's too stupid to figure out how to turn 'em on "by hand". So, it worked.
She just had to stay upstairs to be able to lay around watching TV all day. Still managed to make me cop a 'tude with her though, through sheer stupidity. I'd been up in the bathroom and was headed down the stairs as they were going up. I stopped and stepped back, into the corner of the landing, and was waiting for them to pass by.
Estupid bee-yotch stops in front of me and says, "G'head..." I looked at her like she's the retard she is and said "I'm goin' DOOOWWWNNN...", with a look on my face that spoke volumes, if only she had the brains to read it. Idiot. George was behind her and I looked at him over her shoulder with a much more subtle look on my face, which he totally got and he shrugged his eyebrows at me, rolled his eyes and gave me a smirk, like he knows how fuckin' DUMB she is. Which he does and which is part of why he's taking her back Saturday night.
Thank Jeezus. Another reason she's going back is that the job George got, re-doing a cabin, is gonna take about three months.
So, he's gonna be here either three months or until his buddy in Jersey finds work.
She sure as fuck ain't, though...
Meanwhile, JUST because he looked at apartment ads in the paper to see what they go for out here, SHE calls her Mom and tells her "they" (meaning her and George) may be MOVING OUT HERE!!! Presumptuous much? She not only told her Mom that, she then told George that she'd told her Mom that.
That was about all he needed to hear... Honestly, it's almost funny... I haven't been bitchin' too much at George about her because I know he feels bad enough about the whole deal, but... the few times I have said something to him, he's had a bitch of his own about her.
Makes us both feel better that we each aren't the only ones who want her gone. Eric just stays outside til one or both of us is here.
Lucky lil turd.
Gets paid to avoid her. I oughta be getting paid for having NOT punted her offa the roof... yet. And, as for the suggestions that I put to work around here?
Egads.
We had that idea, George and I did.
Not worth it... not at ALL.
She does dishes and someone (I) has to do them again.
She leaves oatmeal stuck to the bowls, Coffeemate boogers in the bottom of the coffee cups and she puts "clean" silverware on cat-laid-on-and-hairy towels to dry.
I'd rather eat on used paper plates out of a dumpster parked outside of a soup kitchen, thanks. Then, we thought she could vacuum.
Nope.
She did that ONE TIME and I had to dismantle the entire underside of my vacuum to get it unplugged from her stupid ass sucking up a huge, bright red fake oak leaf offa the living room floor.
How the HELL do you a.) not SEE that? and b.) be dumb enough to think the vacuum can swallow something that big? I swear to God... Man, I even have to hide my shampoo, cream rinse, liquid soap, hair spray, food... it's un-friggin'-believable how she helps herself to MY SHIT!
Uses it ALL, too.
Pissed me right off this morning.
Again. But... now that I know "the end is near", I feel muuuuch better. Except for my stupid shoulder.
I'm still using the Blessed Skid Loader at work, but, the other day... Thursday or Friday (I forget which), we (me, Mr. and Mrs. Boss) had a buncha shots to give. Two shots and a tube of wormer to damned near all 20-some horses.
Mrs. Boss was expecting a rodeo, Mr. Boss thought she was fulla shit and I was just along for whatever the ride was gonna be. All the horses did fine, even the babies, except for this one (stupid fucking) mare...a chestnut mare. Chestnuts, like redheads, are said to be bitches and this one is.
I hate mares. Stallions are from Mars, mares are from Venus and GELDINGS are from HEAVEN.
It's true, too.... Anyway....
Mr. Boss and I were in her stall.
Mrs. Boss said he oughta twitch her before he gave her the shot because she's got a "history" of striking with her front feet and just generally trying to kill whomever is trying to do something to her that she deems unacceptable, which is everything except feeding her and turning her out. Mr. Boss poo-pooed the very thought. Well, Mrs. Boss was right that time. Mr. Boss and I are in there with me at her head holding the lead.
He's next to me, prepping to stick her in the neck with this needle.
He started the shot and the instant she felt it, she lunged forward, trying to crush us in the corner.
Bitch...
Without even thinking about it, I instinctively shoved my elbow into the point of her shoulder/neck and kept her back. Kept us from getting killed, but Jesus FUCK, she did a number on my bad shoulder.
I almost dropped once I felt it.
But, I was so glad we didn't both get run down and stomped to death, I didn't care... then. By the time I got done cleaning those 17 stalls, I was starting to care.
And hurt like hell. Got home, took some Vitamin I, as Paul calls... Ibuprofen. Also got Eric to squash my shoulder and arm for me a bit.
Neither helped too awful much, but it did feel a little bit better for a while. Go to bed, get up the next morning and...
Oh.
Mah.
Gawd.
...rigor mortis had set in. I started cussing that horse the minute I tried to move my arm.
Stupid fuckin' mare... I hurt so bad I didn't even wanna think about forking shit.
Then, I remembered Absorbine...
That's horse liniment.
It's for them for bad legs, sore muscles... shit like that.
However, it also works better than those lame-assed heat patches, Ben Gay or any other "people" crap. I got to work and slapped some of that stuff on me and Lord God, did it help.
It helped so much I went to Agway when I got done work and bought a bottle of my own.
Been using it since and I swear, there's something in it that heals this kinda shit. I put it on before bed and before work. I can now sleep without pain and work like a man again.
Plus, it smells better than "people" stuff does.
I'm tellin' ya... if you have crampy, sore, aching muscle shit happening, use it... Absorbine. You can get it at any Agway or any other place they sell horse related shit.
It WORKS. In other news and to end on a funny/upbeat/good note... It seems I need to rename Donny, my duck.
From day one, I've been calling him Donny, as in "Donny" Osmond, not Donny short for Donald, right?
(Yep.) Well, yesterday, then again today, "Donny" showed me he needs a new name by...
LAYING AN EGG!!!
Yeah man... my duck, Donny... "he" has laid two eggs.
How cool is that? Guess I'm gonna hafta start calling "him" Donielle... like "Danielle" kinda.
Better than "Don-ette" ain't it? That dopey duck... *giggling* Guess I musta done a good job raising her if she's laying eggs, huh? And, no I do NOT need a boy duck now.
That'd be all I'd need... a houseful of cats AND ducks. And, have I mentioned how many frickin' kittens have been born in the last month or so?
No?
Try "about 16".
And... there are three more "loaded" ladies around here... one of whom is that red cat that Eric found in the parlor that'd been dumped here by God knows who, the asshole. My hand to God, if I could find some practical commercial use for cat shit or invent some kinda cat prophylactic, I'd be one rich bitch. So, to recap... Douchebag is outta here Saturday night. Absorbine works on muscular pain like nothing else does. I hate mares, especially chestnut ones... redheaded bitches. Donny is laying eggs. And, I have way too many goddamned cats. But... all is well because, again...
The useless bitch is going back to the armpit of the Universe (known as New Jersey) from whence she oozed. Yay!
Posted by: Stevie at 09:27 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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