caughtintheXfire

February 03, 2007

These are those pictures...

I can't remember if I've mentioned them here or not, but I know I've mentioned them to Paul.
A coupla times...

Ever since I first saw them about a month ago, they've been... I almost wanna say "fuckin' with", or "messing with" my head, but it's not just some thing that's buggin' me.
These pictures and all that they not only imply but flat-out PROVE are changing the way I think and feel about everything.
Or, actually... confirming it.

Everybody on the entire PLANET needs to be made to study these pictures and get the fuckin' point, which is, simply stated... we humans ain't shit and none of this crap that we think is important enough to fly planes into buildings over, go to war over, fight about and kill ourselves over really matters in the grand scheme of things, either.
It's all pure bullshit in the face of the truth that these pictures show.
It's also a shame that none of this, these pictures, the implications thereof, the lessons we could get from them... none of that matters even more (or less, if you like) than we stupid humans and our bullshit concerns do.

pbd_sm.jpg

See those two white lines?
That's our planet in between them, seen from 4 billion miles away in a shot taken by Voyager 1 in 1990.

pbd_close.jpg

This is an enlargement of our planet.
Still seems pretty infinitesimal to me, especially when compared to the rest of the universe.
And, by the same token, we (mostly criminally stupid) humans matter even less than that.
Our little blue dot doesn't mean shit to the universe.
And, we humans who inhabit this planet like amoebas on a flea on a Chihuahua puppy, matter even less.

Here's what Carl Sagan said in the speech in which he used these photos...

"We succeeded in taking that picture [from deep space], and, if you look at it, you see a dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings, thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam.

The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of the dot on scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner of the dot. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity -- in all this vastness -- there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. It is up to us. It's been said that astronomy is a humbling, and I might add, a character-building experience. To my mind, there is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."

Hey Carl?
I agree with you, but... dude, if we're gonna depend on each other to survive and to care about any of this enough to actually CHANGE... we're all fucked.

And, we are.

Humans are too self-involved, arrogant, and concerned with ending up with either "all the toys" or "72 virgins" when they're dead to give a good godamn about anything else now.

But, I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that.

After spending a month or so thinking about this, it is my considered opinion that I'm glad I'm 43, with a history of heart shit in my family that'll probably kill me before much longer.
Before some chronically confused human asswad kills us all...

Here's where I got this.
Go see for yourself.
Then, spend a little time thinking about it.
What it all really means.

And then see how devastatingly important (/sarcasm) all this crap we kill ourselves and each other over every day really is in the face of such pure truth.

God, we are so self-important and stupid.
I almost can't wait to go.
It'll be a relief, believe me.

Posted by: Stevie at 07:18 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

February 02, 2007

Hey Paul...

We just got off the phone and I already have that book "saved" at Amazon AND HM seems to have pulled their heads out'n their asses 'cause Gut Rumbles is back.

I'll be doing his updating in a while.
When I need to sit down and smoke a cigarette and have a break from alla this MASSIVE house cleaning I hope to hell I finally do...

Which is shed-yuled* to begin right after I go to the "li-berry" for a bit...
(*British(?) pronunciation... 'cause y'all know how "continental-n-sophisticated" I am and all, right?)

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

Two things...

Yes, we know about Gut Rumbles.

It's yet ANOTHER "Hosting Matters" issue.
The "issue" being that they suck ASS to begin with and now can't even get the fuckin' story straight as to why ALL OF HOSTING MATTERS is offline.
It's either a DDoS attack from Saudi-frickin'-ARABIA *rolling eyes right outta my head* or "someone has cut the fiber optic cable to their server".

Well, HM, PICK ONE, YA CHUCKLEFUCKS!

God, I hate them.
Sincerely.
They ripped Rob off left and right when he was being hosted by them.
They knew what they WEREN'T doing for him.
They knew what it didn't have to cost him each month, yet they "let" him pay too much anyway and now this shit.

Tell ya what... if you're hosted by them, ya better find someplace else to go.
Period.
And, for your own good.

Also, Yahoo's doing it again.
Now they have another headline that reads, "Experts trying to explain yellow orange snow in Siberia".

That's easy.
(And, I'm not even an "expert"...)

Some dude who hasn't taken a piss for a while is writing his name in the snow.
Everybody knows if you wait to pee for a long time, it comes out really yellow.
Stands to reason that, if you wait long enough, it could possibly darken to orange, right?
Right.

So, there's yer "explanation".

God, Yahoo is sounding moronic lately...
(And, Hosting Matters SUCKS!!!)

Posted by: Stevie at 01:50 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

February 01, 2007

Awright, I can't take anymora this shit...

If Yahoo fuckin' retarded or something?

Earlier this morning there was a headline that said (roughly), "Humans "very likely" contributing to global warming".

Okay.
My very first thought was, "Okay, everybody. Quit exhalin'!!"
I took it as "human bodies" that they meant, of course.
Because, otherwise, whoever wrote that stupid headline or commissioned that article needs to be whomped upside the head with the "duuuh" bat.
I mean, Jesus... ya THINK so? There's only about a million "news" articles a day blaming global warming on every fuckin' thing we do down here.
Was that really necessary?

Next up we have this new ad, also on the Yahoo homepage.
It asks, "Think smoking is mostly in your head?"

Wellll, considering the fact that the orafice I stick lit cigarettes in is not my ASSHOLE but my MOUTH, which is located IN MY HEAD, I'd hafta say "ayup" to that.
Next badly worded, thus STOOPID, question?

Ah... not a question, but another headline...

And, I quote... "14 pound baby causes sensation".

Yeah.
I'll bet the fuck it does cause a sensation.
One I sure as hell wouldn't wanna feel.

It was when I saw that that my head nearly a'sploded.
I just haaaad to come share.

Back later.

Peace

Posted by: Stevie at 01:10 PM | Comments (5238) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 31, 2007

Have ya ever gotten on yer own nerves?

I am, today.
Actually, I have been for the last coupla days.

I'm about to make like Rocky VII and beat my own ass if I don't knock it off.

I have a buncha stupid shit that I want to do all of "first".

I decide on one route/methodology to get this shit done, then, remember some detail and change it all around, get it set, remember something else, get pissed, re-arrange it all again and, after a while, it gets annoying.

What I really need to do before I do anything else (except get dressed) is grab the CD player and go to Giant.
(Sidenote... I'm not sure if it's grammatically correct, or whatever, to just call the stupid store "Giant" without the word "the" in front of it, but, I do know that saying it with "the" makes it sound, to me, like I'm gonna go somewhere, get outta my car, and somehow walk up to and interact with a "real" giant. Plus, it smacks of the way some people pronounce "Acme", which makes me giggle.)

(Ac-a-me... *stifles giggle* *mostly*)

Anyhoo... need to go there first.
Also need to clean the house.
All I've done, except sit here and read, is change the dishwater, which, if the dishes were fishes would be great, but, as it is, all I've done, basically, is waste two sinkfuls of hot water. So far.
Also need to pop in at ye olde tooth/torture lab dentists office and get another wee bit of adjusting done.

Not that I've been completely inert, sitting here.
I've paid a coupla bills and whatnot.

Was also on the phone with Sovereign yesterday.
Talked to a coupla really nice ladies in CS and beyond (supervisers and such) and they were very helpful and tried to get answers for me and called me back today to let me know that my concerns would definitely be addressed.

I was told the higher up guy (equivalent to the dude I've been buggin' by email) requested three business days to call me back with some info. Gives 'im til Monday to see what I'm saying about there being no signs and how far it is to Hanover.

I doubt they're gonna change their minds, but, at least I made them aware of the inherent asininity of it all.

I'm goooood at pointin' that out.... *weg*

Oh, and the second email I sent to the same guy I emailed the first time who didn't get back to me and thus annoyed me, is in the EP.

I even signed that one "Disgustedly (at this point)..."

What else?

Oh yeah...

Menopause?

Aw, may-in.... (/whine)

Really?

ugh
*hangs head*

Makes sense, though.

And, I'll even handle it gracefully if it means that little terrorist bastard buddy of mine farks off forever.

The idea that the box of cotton corks I last bought will be the last I ever buy is... fuckin' awesome.

The only thing I really know about menopause (except what it all means) is what Edith Bunker went through.

And, thankfully, so far the only trait we have in common is our propensity to tell endless, tangent-filled stories.

I'm not having any hot or cold flashes, no screaming fits... nuthin' like that. Yet.

But, thank you for the heads up.
It would have never occured to me.
My brain was wandering along the SAD (Seasonal Adjustment Disorder, or whatever in hell it's called) lines.

And, BlogDog... they're here, all in one piece.
I'll letcha know how they like it.
("They" being the guys. Even the very idea of jalepenos makes my stomach start up... "Hot bad. Like fire. RUN, mon-stah, RUN!!")

And, oh fuckity fuck... speaking of food... I'mina hafta make dinner, too, I suppose.
I received a "pointed" look about that very subject last night that I answered with my own wordless "look" (which pretty much said "bite me").

Ah, well... I'll be at Giant shortly anyway. Might as well think of something good I can get to make while I'm there...

Anything else?
Hmmmm....

I don't think so and, if there is, it's gonna hafta wait til I get back from the store.

And get some of this other shit done.

So, I guess I'll see ya's next month some time.

Peace

Posted by: Stevie at 03:19 PM | Comments (2297) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

God Bless FARK...

Between updating GR and hangin' out in a coupla FARK forums, I feel better than I did a while ago.

But, d'ya see what I mean when I say "sometimes commercials make me cry"?
And, it's not hormones, either.
It's that whole situation.
Just like (goddamned frickin') country music, exposure to it hurts too much.
I'm a wuss.
I can't handle it.
Ever.

ANYway... I've been reading FARK for years and have only in the last coupla months started reading the comments.

The whole width of the FARK page doesn't show unless I scroll it over, so I kinda didn't even know they were there to be read.
Or to be taken part in.

And, it's only been in the last month that I've actually started speaking up in there, but now... I have to admit, it is fun for the most part.

It's filling a void for me, as best it could ever be filled.
Not taking Rob's place (nothing ever could), but the comments feel familiar.

There are intelligent people, people so funny you'll damn near pee yourself laughing, trolls you just wanna cock-punch sometimes, all kindsa people over there and, all in all... it's pretty okay.

Better than the deafening silence.

Hell, even the stupid headlines make me laugh hard enough to snot coffee out my nose on occasion.

I've been spending quite a bit of time in there this week.
Not sure if that's because I'm starting to really like hangin' out there or if it has some weird thing to do with this Jersey Jerkoff shit.

Oh... got the dryer situation rectified.
Swapped the one we had for one sittin' in the garage.
It's not like we put a dead one out there and took a good one, but... this one does work better.

George talked to an electrician today and got a few ideas about what could be causing the main breaker to pop.
Then when he got home, we talked about it and between the electrician's theories and my observations of what caused it to happen, we decided it was the dryer.

First it decided not to dry more than four and half pounds of clothes at once.
I swear to God, any more than two pair of jeans at once is too much.
Either it wouldn't go on and run, would just keep trying to tumble and "catch" (like a car starter), or it'd start, then quit 15 minutes later.
Then, it started this "breaker" shit.

So, screw it.
If trading dryers keeps the house from burning down, I'd say it's worth it.

Now, if I'd only go find out...

I ain't cleaned shit all week.
Thank God it's only, what? Wednesday? And, super early on Wednesday at that.

Since this Jersey Jerkoff shit from a few days back, I just haven't done jackshit.
Except be awake all night, on the computer mostly.

I keep wanting to clean.
I need to clean, but.... feh.
I just don't. Or haven't.

I'm hoping I will (like, in a coupla minutes maybe) if I purge my head here of whatever shit it is plugging it up this (goddamned) time.

Sooooooooo....
What, head?
I'm sittin' here.
I'm typing.
What the hell do you need to get your shit in one sock?

*stares at blinking cursor for a few. lights cigarette. gets up, goes and takes a piss. gets a cuppa coffee. returns and resumes staring at blinking cursor*

Well, goddamn it...
Da fuck's the trouble?

............................

Got nuthin'.

I don't know what's wrong.

Kind of "everything", but at the same time absolutely "nothing".

Make any sense to you?
S'plain it to me, please?

We've done a coupla little DIY jobs here in the house lately.
And, by "in here", I mean the cutting of wood happened inside the house, as well as the actual installion of said "projects".

So, between that and the "normal" wear, tear, and shitty brown build-up, this place is wrecked.
We're running out of dishes.
We are outta clean forks.

[Note to self: Buy more forks.]

I simply MUST get on this shit.
Immediately, if not sooner.

I know that.
I realize it, I appreciate it.
The only thing I don't do is CARE ABOUT it.

Well, okay.
I do care about it, obviously... just not enough, I guess.

That's bugging me itself.
What's bugging me worse is that I can't ascertain WHY I feel like I do. Or don't.
Whatever.

I've been near-to-suicidally depressed before.
So, I don't think that's it.
This is no where near that bad.
That shit made me wish for death every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month for about 20-some years.

As you can see, God pays lotsa heed to what I have to say...
*wry grin*

Whatever this is, it ain't that.

I'm not proactively seeking the sweet release of death.
Anymore.
Much.

(And, for some fucked up reason, that last set of sentences made me laugh.)

I just feel.... blah.

Tired, kinda.
Hair-trigger tears whether they're warranted or not.
A general malaise about the condition of my house.

I don't know if I need a hug or a kick in the ass.

Probably both.
And, several of each, while I'm thinking about it...

Any-frickin'-way...

Guess I'll go re-arrange the dirty dishes.
Again.
Or maybe start to fill about three trash bags at once and never "finish" them, nor close them, nor take them away.
Again.
Or go do one single load of wash, as if that'll make a dent in the Matterhorn of soiled haberdashery that's strewn about the bathroom and the surrounding environs.
Again.

Or something.

Maybe.

*siiiiigh*
(more of a disgusted one than a pitiful one, by the way, and for the record)

Posted by: Stevie at 03:39 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Ow.

I just got stabbed right in the heart by a commercial.

Made me burst into tears and now, I can't stop thinking about it and crying.

Goddamn Alpo...

First off, I hate Alpo.
I'd never use any of their products because (just) one time, I saw a dog food can label that listed "horsemeat".
I know they do that, but... I don't wanna KNOW it.
Know what I mean?

So, when I saw that, all Alpo products went on my "DO NOT USE" list, along with Hartz Mountain products.
(HM shit will absolutely POISON your pets. It's happened to mine. Once. That was all it took. Now, I won't even buy their animal TOYS.)

Anyway, this commercial is for Alpo's "Shelter Dogs" program, which could possibly make up for that blatant "horsemeat" shit, IF I knew they were really doing the dogs any REAL good.

And, if the stupid commercials didn't make me feel like my heart was shattered, like this one just did.

I had the TV muted, like I always do when asshole commercials are on, but, I glanced at it and saw a series of shots of dogs behind wire fences, so I un-muted it to see what it was.

There was a man's voice, speaking as if for the dogs. I didn't catch everything he said, but what I heard will haunt me forever...
ah, shit, here I go again....

The man, as a dog, was saying something about, "I know how to sit, lay down, fetch and roll over. What I don't know is how I ended up in here [a dog pound]. I do know I'm a good dog and... [and I can't even see to type] and, I want to go home."

Oh my God... I bet they do.
I bet they do wanna go home.
I've known that feeling.
And, I'm also intimately familiar with the reality that there is no "home" to go to.
For them, or me.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.
I want to give all those dogs (and cats and guinea pigs and gerbils and snakes and bats and opposums and every other species of animal) a "home" to go to.
I want to give them that.
Somehow.
If I only could...

But, all I can do is sit here and wish I could die instead of feeling so fuckin' USELESS.

Yeah, I know, I have more animals than any "sane" person ever would.
It costs a lot, takes a lot of my time, and most people don't understand why I do it.
(What they NEED to wonder is why THEY don't do it...)

But, for all that I do, it doesn't amount to a spit in the ocean when you think about all the thousands and thousands of animals that are right now locked up in a strange place with no familiar bed to sleep on, strange food, strange people, fear, uncertainty, and ultimately nothing but death in their futures just because some total waste of humanity couldn't be bothered with them anymore.

I know EXACTLY how they feel and it fuckin' kills me.

Posted by: Stevie at 01:44 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 30, 2007

Y'okay. That's about enough of that now...

'Bout a half hour ago, I was in the midst of watering my hamster and *poof* everything electric in the house goes off.

Piiiiitch dark.

I happened to be standing by the table where my smokes and lighter were, so I groped around, found my lighter, and lit a candle.

Took the lit candle and found my big-assed spotlight.

Took the big-assed spotlight and found a flashlight that won't need to be recharged in 15 minutes, like said spotlight.

Took the flashlight and found a "George".

Took the "George" into the basement with me, lest there be any Confederate ghosties, psycho-sex-stalkers or run-of-the-mill other kindsa boogey-persons down there and reset the circuit breaker.

Alllllla the shit I had on came back on and about 15 minutes later, it did it again.

*exhales hard thru nostrils*

Gettin' kinda tired o'this shit now, HOUSE.
D'ya frickin' MIND?
(Well, I DO! CUT IT OUT!! Damn it.)

This time, George shut off a buncha lights and shit and... so far, so good.
*whips head around, glaring at lights, making sure I ain't lyin' and all but daring them to do it again*

*gives them a coupla more of those "Are you SURE you're done being an ass?" Mom-moments to make up their minds and possibly seal their fates*

Well, okay then.

*poof*

Just kidding....

The good news is, after having the living SHIT scared outta me the first time they went off (I hate that shit), I can safely say my heart is stronger than I give it credit for, 'cause if it didn't have an attack then in spite of how hard and fast it was beating, I may not be as doomed to "pull an Elvis" (die at the same age as my mother like he did) as I think.

The bad news is this "electric" crap ain't gonna make keeping up with the house, and especially the laundry, any easier.

That (the laundry) is fun enough with the dryer having the vapors to begin with.

Then, it'd be even more "fun enough" with "just" the hell the guys are now having to go through with the milking parlor, without this new 'lectrickle horse hockey happenin'.

The parlor... she's-a dyin'.
On her last bearing, as it were.

It's the oldest carousel parlor around here.
And, it's main bearing is fubar.
Therefore, it doesn't rotate properly and after about six revolutions, it has to be "unwound" by what was "man power" at first and has now progressed to becoming "skid steer" power, with a guy having to lay UNDER IT while they "unwind" it to keep the wires from being severed.

It's getting so bad now, the whole damned thing is beginning to tilt and the cows... they HATE it.
They're scared of it, really.
They don't feel safe with it tilting.
Can't say I blame them.
But, scared cows produce more poop than milk, so this ain't good on any level, no pun intended. ("tilting"/"level"?)

Now, the good news is that the Boss has found a guy who used to have a carousel parlor in Kentucky, I think, and he's getting all "barely used" replacement parts.

The bad news is, until they can get this shit disassembled, fixed and reassembled, they have to construct and use a makeshift, "portable" kinda, "parlor" to milk the cows out in the free stall barn.

Where it normally takes about two, two and half hours to milk the whole herd, it's now going to take AT LEAST six hours each time.

The icky part has been for the last coupla days that both Jr. and Sr. have had to spend time laying under the damned carousel to watch the wires, meaning they get fuller of shit and wetter than if they wrestled cows in the manure pit and lost.

The icky part is gonna be that cows, hating change with a passion greater than my own, are gonna be shittin' ever'where in the makeshift parlor, thus still having the guys covered head-to-toe, pretty much, til the parlor is rebuilt.

And, it IS gonna be "rebuilt", because, while it's down anyway, a bunch of improvements are gonna be made.

S'posed to take about a month.

Oughta be interesting to watch.
Ain't gonna be interesting to deal with... for ME, either.

I was told that the Boss said something about I'm gonna have to be doing the guy's wash 24/7 to keep 'em in clean, dry, and thus WARM, clothes during this time.

*siiiiigh*

Thanks, Bossman.
Got a coupla hundred CATS ya need me to take care of while yer at it?

'Caaaaaause, just like laundry, I don't HAVE enough CATS in the FIRST place, or anything.
Or a dryer suffering from sporadic syncope...
Or a house that's just started shuttin' down at random intervals...
Or a fuckin' NUTJOB from Joisey to keep a watch out for...

I need to be balls-to-the-wall with laundry.
Shuuuuuure, I do.
Why not, right?
Ain't like I got'ny thing else to do... like be driven insane by a bank.

For the record, given a choice, I'd take a tractor-trailer fulla cats over more laundry.
And, another one instead of the asshole from Jersey.
And yet another one instead of this "banking" shit.
And, what the hell... one more instead of the eletrical crap.

The dryer part, I can handle.
Everything else, I'd rather have a truckload of cats instead of.

Ya know...
if a cowboy's work is never done, I must be the rootin'-est, tootin'-est cowpoke north of the Rio Grande and east of the mighty Mississip.

*coupla seconds later*
Okay.
Now I need to go get the brain bleach to get the mental image of Yosemite Sam with boobage outta my head.

Peace

Posted by: Stevie at 05:32 AM | Comments (122) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 29, 2007

Wanna read my email to my stupid bank?

Posted by: Stevie at 11:12 PM | Comments (29) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Here's another EP post...

An update to the last one...

Posted by: Stevie at 06:41 PM | Comments (9531) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Two quick things (one of which has two parts to it)...

But, I don't want to distract from the previous post, so this one is in the EP.

Posted by: Stevie at 04:49 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Jeezus Christ...

I just posted something Rob wrote... again.
A short post, sort of an end-of-year update.

In it he says that, in two years and two days (plus numerous assorted computer parts), he did roughly 5,600 posts and garnered OVER 23,900 comments.

In three and half years (nearly double his time, at that point), I've done 2,235 posts and gotten 4,306 comments.

So, let's see, thaaaat's... multiply by 27, carry the thirteen, divide by fifths (then bottle it and slap a Jack Daniels label on it) and thaaaat's....

Sad... sad is what that is.

My comments to posts ratio, compared to his, is putrid.

Capital "P".
Capital "U".
Capital "TRID".

Which, after travelling a long and winding road through my brain, WHICH I'll spare ya's, leads me to wanna ask you guys something...

What I want is to be able to see me through your eyes.
I wanna know what you picture when you read me.
(Now, why does that make me picture Mad. Wm. typing BOOBIES!!! in all caps?)
*rolling eyes and giggling*
(S'okay. I always picture him in his robe...)

But seriously...

Who do you see in your mind's eye?
What do you see?
What do I look like?
Am I scary or something?
(Shit man, I don't even get trolls, ya know? WHY NOT, damn it? They're fun to play with...)

I'm told two things by two people I really love and trust and... believe.

One, I talk too much, period, let alone after I've asked a question, usually... which is why I've been trying not to do that s'much lately.

The other is that I so completely sew up, own, or conclude a post, there's just not a lot left to say after.
(Aaaand, I get told in real life, about 32 times a week, that I missed my calling not being a litigator, so I kinda get that. Just don't know how NOT to do it.)

It was also suggested that, maybe, the easiest way to get'ch'all to answer this is to ask for adjectives.

What adjectives would y'all use to describe me to somebody you know who doesn't know me?

Good or bad, I'm askin'.

Mostly I wanna know what I look like in your imagination.
Then, if ya wanna include what kinda person I come across as, g'head.

Paint me a picture, please.

Posted by: Stevie at 03:38 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 28, 2007

Hey Viz...

You nailed it.

Bless you.

Your answer to the "communication/abdication of control" was correct.

Thank you SO much.

Again, you've made a huge difference in my life.
Made it clearer, easier, and thanks to your insight, helped me get the lines of communication open.

You're a wonderful man.

Just know that.

I sure do.

Posted by: Stevie at 01:04 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 27, 2007

Need some advice... if there even is any for this insanity...

What I have here is a two-part situation.

Part 1 started back in October for me.
When those two assholes from Jersey showed up, remember that?
And, they wouldn't fuckin' LEAVE?

Well, the instigator of that mess hasn't ever really gone away.
And now, it seems like this shit might could escalate and get bad/ugly/deadly in a big hurry, maybe, and I'm getting zero support about it from Sr., so I'm doing what I feel I have to.

Like, emailing Paul all the information, including the phone number to the nearby State Police barracks, should the day ever come that Gut Rumbles isn't updated and he doesn't know why.
If I'm sick or my computer dies or my landline gets compromised somehow, I'll make sure Paul knows.
Of course I would, so that if nothing else, he could update GR til I got my shit fixed, or whatever.

But, now, it's even more critical because if I don't update and he hasn't heard from me "why", it's because that idiot from Jersey has shown up here and killed us all, which, given his mental state, could happen.

What else I'm gonna do is go talk to the State guys down the road.
Let them know what's going on.
See what they think I oughta do.
Let them know that I have their number in my phone and that I've got Paul "just in case" and he knows to call them, etc. and all that.

Another thing that's crossed my mind is that, if I get a sense from what this asshole says in his MySpace blog that he's coming here, I'm going to bring Ziggy in.

He's my biggest, most intimidating dog.
He's got a lot of German Shepard in him and he looks EXACTLY like a police dog with a back so wide you could serve dinner on it.

Sumbitch must weigh something over a hundred pounds.

I want the other two left outside for barking purposes.
April barks at everything, so I need her to keep an eye out out there.
Then, have Zig in here in case Asshole breaks in and he'll be barking (and tearing his throat out, I hope), which will set Tyler off upstairs and, if I keep my cell with me up there, I'm covered, pretty much.

So, see?
I have Part 1 as covered as well as I can.
Also, George is right here with me on this.
He knows about me emailing Paul and even he thinks it's a good idea.
He, who would call me on it in an INSTANT, if he thought I was over-reacting or being paranoid, okay?
HE agrees with me on my contingency plans.

And, I have my axe handle, but, I swear to Sweet Jesus, I want a gun.

Anyway...

It's Part 2 I need advice on, like I said, IF there's even any to be had, it's so fuckin'... I don't even know what to call it.

I've discussed Sr.'s past in some detail here, way back in the beginning, so I don't wanna have to repeat it now.
Suffice it to say he was in an abusive relationship with a woman who was MUCH older (and heavier) than he is.
She was verbally, emotionally and mentally abusive.
She liked to hit sometimes, too.
Mostly Jr., but not always.

Anyway, Sr. is a good guy, but SEVERELY damaged by this.
Being pretty fucked up myself, I recognize this and have done every goddamned thing I can think of for the last five years to try to get him past this, or over it, or beyond it, somehow.

In fact, quite often, when faced with situations, I ask myself "WWDD?", meaning, "What would (her name) do?", JUST so I can do the polar opposite.

When I say I've tried to help him, I mean I've TRIED endlessly.

And, Part 1 has shown me just how far I've gotten with that and the answer is STRICTLY NOWHERE.
Not one fuckin' INCH have I gotten him past it.

For instance, I asked him "What are we gonna do about this?" the other day.

His answer was, verbatim... "We'll just throw him out!!!", meaning Jr.

What.
an.
ASS!

I didn't ask the question in a way to engender a response like that.
I never do.
I'm VERY conscious of that.
But... no matter what the question, situation or my intent, I always get that kind of bullshit in response.

So, a little while after he said that stupid shit, I asked him if he even thought it's possible for him to ever not respond to me like I'm her and he screamed, "NO! Beacuse that means giving up total control of my LIFE!"

Do what?

Is he insane?

I still don't know how to respond to that and this is the third day now.
Since he said it, I mean.

This is a very laaaaarge problem for me.

I'm a HUGE communicator.

Not only do I do this, Xfire, I absolutley MUST be able to discuss shit with certain people and, for about 10 years of my life, I was a PROFESSIONAL communicator, having worked the radio for two police departments and the county 911 center.

Communication is VITAL to me.

Without it, there is NOTHING else.

There can't even BE anything else without that.

Not to mention, the three people who come to mind when I think of "people I can talk to about anything", I have no more control over than I do the wind.

The three people are George, my Dad and Paul.
Sr. sees for himself that I can't "control" George or else he'd have listened to me and not pushed his situation with his daughter and gotten it all screwed up like it is.
Yet, I can TALK to him.

If I could control my Dad, do ya THINK I'd be where I'm NOT now with him?
NO.
For fuck's sake.
But... I always used to be able to talk to him about anything, too.
(By "used to", I mean while I was growing up. I still can talk to him, it's just a huge rig-a-marole to do, so I don't unless it's important, mostly.)

And, Paul.
Paul lives in friggin' CANADA.
I have ZEE-RO control over anything he does, contrary to popular opinion regarding Gut Rumbles (ya buncha dillholes, you who accused him of that).
Yet, I can, and DO, talk to him about everything, including this situation and both parts at that.

So, what in HELL do I do with a man who equates communication with abdication of control?
Besides "live"?

That's my question, that's what I need advice on and, so as not to bury it with a buncha chatter, I'm stopping now so you can tell me.

'Cause, I'll be goddamned if I have one single idea about what to do about this.

*Update @5:22am in the EP...

Posted by: Stevie at 04:28 AM | Comments (2316) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 26, 2007

This is why I don't waste my time with "reality" TV...

Because it's not based in REALITY.

They are ALL scripted, pre-set, with pre-determined winners, and the outcomes have much less to do with reality than ratings.

Need proof?

Well then, just watch this season's Top Chef BULLSHIT in one of the many repeats of several-episodes-at-once that Bravo runs all the time.
If you can, try to catch the whole thing that way.
You'll see EXACTLY what I'm talking about and you'll probably get back YEARS of your life by not wasting your time on any more "reality" TV.

I stumbled upon this season's Top Chef show quite by accident and got interested enough in it to actually have followed this shit til this week.

I happened to miss this weeks episode and after reading here what went on, I definitely WON'T be watching the last episode.
Nor do I believe I'll be watching Season three, IF they even have one.

Frankly, after the crock of shit this season has turned out to be, Bravo may as well just cancel it, unless they support the manipulation, hypocracy, and the fact that the REAL "best chef" isn't who wins.

In case you're smart enough already to not waste your time on this show, the premise is that they find a buncha chefs and have them compete in two competitions each show, the Quick Fire Challenge, wherein they all make some kinda little something to see who gets immunity from elimination.

Then, they go on to the "big" competition for each episode, where they're asked to create actual meals in various settings and with various themes.

You'd THINK the person who wins the most Quick Fires and episodic competitions would naturally win, or at least make it into the last competition, but... they don't.

Instead of basing their choices on actual TALENT, the stupid judges seem to keep whomever is the most dramatic asshole, regardless of any lack of real talent and, I've gotta tell ya... including some nasty-lookin' foam with every damned thing you cook is NOT talent.

It's LAME.
And, that foam?
It looks like colored blobs of SPIT on the plate.
Bring me a dish with that disgusting looking shit on it and I WILL send it back.

And, I just called the judges stupid...
I didn't think they ALL sucked til I found out what happened this week and read Tom's blog (which is what the link is up there).

Til just now, I really liked Tom and respected him.

Now?
Not s'much.

He's actually trying to defend this bullshit with eliminating Sam, who, by the way, is really the best, most talented chef they had this season, to keep that little jerkoff asshole who foams every fuckin' thing, Marcel.

I firmly believe if they HAD to have a "Marcel" on this show, they'd have done better having Ross Geller's monkey Marcel cooking, instead of the juvenile jackoff posing as a chef they did have.

This guy, from the first episode I saw, up to and including the last one I saw (or will ever watch), has been an utter disgrace to chefs everywhere.

Truly, if this dipshit is the example of the caliber of "Top Chefs" there are today, I'll go to Mickey D's.

My God man... just like people didn't want to eat food prepared by that murderer who strangled Dominique Dunne to death, I also wouldn't want to eat food prepared by, and thus tacitly support, a person who comports himself in the manner Marcel does in the kitchen and who thinks "talent" equals making some lame-assed friggin' FOAM every damned dish.

The guy sucks ASS as a chef and sucks even harder as a person.

I KNOW from personal experience how much pressure can build in a good restaurant with a balls-to-the-wall busy kitchen.

Remember all the shit I went through back in Bucks, working under that fuckin' psychotic prick cook at the restaurant where I worked?

I do and I also know that you must possess at least a modicum of people skills not to lose total control of your kitchen in high-stress times and not end up stabbed to death by your crew and thrown into the grease dumpster.

Marcel has not one WHIT of this.
Just like he has not one whit of talent compared to Sam.

But, Marcel's one of the two left to compete for the big win and I'm gonna tell you right now, based on how this season has gone, he'll win no matter what happens.

Bet me.

I won't be watching.
Not the last episode of this season or ANY episode of any other season.

Don't bet me on this one, you'll lose.

I'm just not gonna waste my time watching this shit if real talent isn't rewarded, and it's not, and being a shit-stirring drama queen is, and... it is.

The judges blew it.
Big time.

And, speaking of judges on this show blowing...

Jesus GAWD, where did they find those two women judges?

That "Padma" thing is just nasty.
For her, this whole show is about HER and how "sexy" she thinks she is and thinks everybody ELSE should think she is.
And, I hate her voice/accent.
Sounds contrived.
Her whole persona seems contrived just for the camera.
I hope, for her sake, it is.
If she's really the way she comes across, she's an opinionated know-nothing poseur.

And, that other female...
What. a. cow.

If being FAT is a sign of a good food judge, I see why they chose her.
Otherwise, I have no clue.

Tom, like I said, was garnering my respect more and more with each episode til I read his blog tonight.

That's when I saw that he supports hypocracy and doesn't give shit one about talent, either.

He's trying to defend the fact that Sam got booted and Marcel remains.

Tom... just stop.

There IS no defense for what you people have done.

You're just making yourself look like a total shitstain now.

If this whole goddamned thing is about food, Marcel would have been eliminated weeks ago.
If cheating and the way you handle people and the way you act doesn't matter, what the FUCK was eliminating Cliff about?
Frankly, you oughta be glad Marcel didn't get his ass beaten royally, like he deserved.

And, if "cheating" doesn't matter, what the FUCK happened with the whole Otto debacle?
Otto didn't "steal" that shit and that pointy-faced bitch KNEW that shit wasn't paid for before they left the front of the store, yet she didn't get eliminated til MUCH later.
You just let Otto take the fall.
Which was pure bullshit.

Do you not watch the tape of these episodes before you make your ill-informed decisions?

Bet ya don't.
Because, hell... talent isn't what matters, is it?
Nope.
RATINGS... that's what this is about, huh?
Really man... cut the bullshit on your blog and just fuckin' ADMIT IT already.
At least be that much of a man, please.
For your own sake, if for no other reason.

You seem like a good man on a personal level, but your professional ethics are sorely lacking if you really do believe in the way this season has turned out.
As a boss, if you truly ARE the way you've come across in your blog this week, you're horrible and I'd NEVER want to work for you because, to you, the truth doesn't matter, nor does talent.

I'm not sure what DOES matter to you anymore.

Except stupid ratings, which, by the way, have absolutley NOTHING to do with cooking or running a kitchen or anything else that SHOULD matter in this show.

(Yes, I do realize that ratings matter, but they oughta not to be considered more important than the chef's talents, as they so clearly are.)

Anyway...

Top Chef is a waste of time if you're really wanting to see the most talented person win.
It's a waste of time unless you enjoy being jerked around for the sake of ratings.

Hell, after this, it's my considered opinion that it's a waste of time, period.

"Breaking Bonaduce" is MUCH more compelling and comes across as MUCH more real than this horseshit does.

Tom, you're a huge disappointment.

Bravo, you're pathetic to allow this kind of shit to be aired.

Marcel, I sincerly hope you get everything that's coming to you and I also hope I somehow find out about it. [Ed. Update... Like I just did.... I'm almost ashamed to admit that this made me laugh for several minutes. But... only "almost", because this guy is such an asswad. The only way this could be sweeter is if I were the "unknown female" who did it. Sincerely.]
Knowing of your utter ruination and that you've failed due to your total lack of talent would only bolster my faith in karma, you squirrely prick.

Viewing public...
Don't bother, y'all.
Watching flies fuck would be an improvement over this schlock.

Posted by: Stevie at 01:14 AM | Comments (56) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 24, 2007

Okay...

I'm calmed most of the way down, now.

Just as I published the last post, it occured to me... I can't go pass the hell back out til I take care of Gut Rumbles.

So, I did.

While waiting for a link page to load, I went on out to the kitchen and started a hunka hamburger thawing in a sink fulla hot water for dinner.

So, contrary to my stated (to myself, on the way home the first time) intention to just go to bed and to hell with everybodyTHING, I am making dinner.
Only Hamburger Helper, but... ya know what?

After the day I've had, if they don't like it, they can cook for themselves, frankly.

And, the second post I did at GR (the top one) made me damned near cry when I read it.
Still could, if I don't shut up about it.

God Almighty, I miss him....

aw, here we go...
man.

Some days I can't wait to get to where he is.
And, not just because he's there.

Posted by: Stevie at 05:34 PM | Comments (12) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

And...

I'm back.

And, know this:

Driving there and back THIS TIME didn't take as long as getting there the FIRST time.

Friggin' place is STRAIGHT across the mountain from us.
This PUTZ breeder-guy who gave Sr. the directions sent us waaaaaaaaaaay the hell outta the way.

And, it was also this jerkweed's company who "hosted" this stupid meeting that took longer to GET TO than it lasted.

I hate the breeder-guy.
I hope he artificially inseminates himself right in the ass.

And, now that I'm DONE with this odyssey IN HELL, I am going into the bathroom for a while, then I'm going back to bed.

Oh yeah, that's the other fun part...

I got put through this crap with less than four hours sleep.

That always helps, being exhausted to start with.

So, to recap...

Got drug into driving to a place I've never even HEARD of, by way of directions from AN ASSHOLE who doesn't even LIVE around here, only to get there late and hafta turn around and go right the hell back 15 minutes after I FOUND MY OWN FRIGGIN' WAY HOME THANKYOUVERYMUCH on less than four hours of sleep.

The fact that my day isn't ending with some bobble-headed newcaster saying "Film at 11" is a fuckin' MIRACLE.

God, give me strength...

Posted by: Stevie at 03:00 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

I just got put through the motherfuckin' stupidest shit...

Wanna know who I hate more than just about anybody else on the planet, man OR woman?

Asshole fuckwads who give SHITTY directions.

I swear to fuckin' GOD, these people should be FLOGGED.
With my Pusser Club.
BY ME.

Dickheads.

I'd also like to see people who plan meetings 690 miles from where you live beaten to within an inch of their useless lives.

Douchebags.

Jesus CHRIST, I have such a headache right now, I can't even SEE straight.
(And, I keep pluralizing shit as I'm typing this. One more goddamned time, this keyboard WILL bounce off the barn across the road.)

A bit of background about this whole deal...

Number fuckin' ONE, I HATE driving around to places that I don't know where the fuck they are, nor have I ever heard of them.
Hell, if I didn't have to leave the house AT ALL, that'd be FINE with me.

Ya get out there, in public, on the roads, and Jesusfuck, there are 99 million ASSHOLES out there just waitin' to fuck with ya.

Add shitty directions to that and ya gotcherself a fuckin' PICNIC if you involve ME.

As was just done.

Number goddamned two, dairy farmers have more stupid fuckin' "meetings" than the twenty most meetings-happy asshole CEO's in Man-fuckin'-HATTEN.

Put it this way, if these numbnuts bastards had Stitch-n-Bitches, the ENTIRE WORLD would be knitted.
Every fuckin' DAY.

So...

Sr. has these "meetings" to attend quite often.

If you're not involved in the work the stupid meetings are about, these affairs makes CHESS MEETS seem like a debauched weekend in the company of Jim Morrison.
Yes, they are THAT goddamned long-winded and BORING.
There's always a metric ton of sonsabitches that have questions designed SOLELY to prolong the agony, I'm sure.
These dimbulbs don't know HOW to stfu and go home.
EVER.

Therefore, after the first time I got caught in that mess, I do NOT participate in this shit.
In fact, I HATE THIS SHIT.
ALL of it.
I don't wanna be involved AT ALL.

Especially if it involves having to leave the house with SHITTY DIRECTIONS to take Sr. to some goddamned place I ain't ever heard of.

Like I just had to do.

GodDAMN it.

By the time we finally found the fuckin' firehouse this goddamned stupid meeting is in, I was about six short inches from hysterics.

I wasn't happy about having to do this in the first place, but after the THIRD FUCKING TIME I had to turn around FOLLOWING THE FUCKING DIRECTIONS, I was gone.
Right around the fuckin' bend.

It's always a joy to be driving around a place you don't know, that you do NOT want to be, in tears so bad you can't see.

And... ya wanna know the part that is currently making controlling myself not to kick the balls off somebody outside for it the hardest thing I've not done in YEARS?

Well, that'd be the fact that, coming home, I found a way that is half the fuckin' distance, on roads that I know.

THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NO REASON I SHOULD HAVE BEEN PUT THROUGH THAT SHIT IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!!!!!!!!

*several minutes spent weaving a tapestry of cursing that makes Darren McGavin in "The Christmas Story" look like an Amish guy*

Okay, now... check THIS shit out...

Jr. came in for lunch as I was finishing typing my Darren McGavin bit.
We we're sittin' here, bullshittin' for a few minutes and his radio beeps.
(Sr. has my radio 'cause his died, so he's supposed to call Jr. who is, in turn, supposed to let me know when this (expletives deleted) meeting is over.)

His radio beeps and it's Sr.
And...

this (more expletives than there even ARE) meeting is already over.

*wham, wham, wham*

That was me, beating my head on this desk.

This is the first time in the HISTORY of these meetings that one's been over with so soon.

And, it's just to fuck with ME.
I'm convinced.

*siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh*

I'll be back.

I HOPE.

(I'd say "Peace", buuuut... fuckit.)
(Ya know?)

Posted by: Stevie at 01:19 PM | Comments (2401) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 23, 2007

Well...

Good.

'Bout damned time somebody showed a modicum of sense about it.

People need to quit this shit about this flag.
I have several, fly them all, and I'd beat the HELL outta anybody who tried to tell me I can't.

rebel_flag_waving_confederate.gif

Isn't it funny, that people who were controlled and made to do things they probably didn't want to do, didn't believe in and hated are now trying to turn around and do the same damned thing to everybody else?

The only people this flag means "racism and hate" to are the ones who're keeping the racism, hatred and ignorance alive.

The people who have such a problem with this BATTLE FLAG are most likely the most racist cocksuckers there are.

I don't think of black people, racism, hatred, slavery and bad shit when I look at my flags.

I think of how the South tried not to be drug down, tried to stand up for what they believed in and wanted, all the men who died under that flag and WHY, and Rob.

I have a REAL Georgia state flag, before Georgia pussied out and bowed to bullshit pressure and re-designed it.

I love Georgia, but the HHWBIC of that state lost a measure of my respect when they did that.
(And, be glad I went with "HHWBIC", instead of the way it's REALLY said (with an "N" in place of the second "H"), 'cause I damned near did, I'm so sick of this shit now... They wanna keep that mindset alive, it CAN be arranged.)

Had it been me making that decision, I'd have said, "Tell those backwoods fucks to get over themselves. This flag is about honor and history and I ain't changin' it. Fuck them all."

But, noooooooo.
They didn't do that.
Instead they gave an inch and are now being expected to give a frickin' mile.

Typical.

I'm just glad somebody isn't a total wuss besides me.

(And, Mikey... I answered you again under "issues" and I was gonna answer ya under my last post too, but goddamned fuckin' MUNU won't let me. I keep getting that stupid "spammers" excuse/bullshit. I'm really starting to hate this crap. Hey Paul (she whines)... soon?)

Posted by: Stevie at 06:37 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Is this the first step back to parental responsibility?

All I know is that is about damned time that somebody makes parents deal with their snot-nosed brats, or at least be the ones the most inconvenienced by them for a change.

I read that article and the father's remarks pissed me off so much... "they'll never fly that airline again.."

Well, GOOD.
Keep your uncontrollable little BITCH of a daughter HOME, where she belongs, where only YOU, you two losers who made the decision to fuck and create the little asshole, are the only two who have to deal with her.

Your "precious" child is a tiny terrorist, obviously.
Out of control, hitting, screaming, refusing to behave...
You expect 112 other people, who have not one fuckin' nickle in it, to put up with your horrendous child?

Please, motherfucker.

The airline did what YOU COULDN'T DO, then reimbursed your lame ass AND offered you round-trip tickets for future flights and all you can do is be a petulant asshole and say you'll never fly with them again?

Big fuckin' deal.

I'm sure they're cryin' over that.

Asshole.

Fuck you, your idiot wife, and your hellion child.

I just wish I had your email address, so I could write to YOU, just like I did the airline.
But... you can bet your STUPID ass my letter to you wouldn't be even remotely close in tone or attitude to the one I wrote to AirTran.

Hey...

Saw the news article about you guys having kicked that snot-nosed brat off your plane and I just wanted to say "Good going".
Sincerely.

It's about damned time PARENTS are made to pay for their kids out-of-control bullshit behavior.

That you reimbursed them and offered them the round-trip tickets is MORE than enough, especially in the face of the father's quoted remarks about never flying with you again.
That just PROVES he'd rather blame somebody else for his own self-made problems than actually do something about them.

In fact, that that family will never fly with you again is something of a FAVOR he's doing you, obviously.

To hell with them, hooray for you.

You guys did the right thing.

I only wish I'd been on the plane so I could have stood and applauded when they were escorted off.

Thank you for standing up for all the people whose kid it wasn't and whose problem it shouldn't have been and who shouldn't have to put up with kids like this in public.

Now, can whomever made that decision show restaurant managers how to do the same thing?

Approvingly,
me

YOU wanted a kid.
YOU fucked to make that happen.
That makes the resulting hell-on-Earth 110% YOURS to hafta deal with.

Not "ours".

I dearly hope that this is the first in a looooong series of similar events making parents be responsible for their stupid kids for a fuckin' change.

Wouldn't it be lover-ly to think so?

Bravo, AirTran.

If I were a frequent flyer, you'd be my airline of choice every time.

*standing ovation for AirTran, including much foot stomping, cheering, whistling and clapping*
(And, a great big, foam-hand-sized middle finger to the parents.)
(And that goddamned kid.)

Posted by: Stevie at 05:15 PM | Comments (12) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

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