December 17, 2005
Okay.
OW, GODDAMNIT!!!!!
I just "busted a move" out there in a calf pen, that I've only ever seen, like, freakin' ballet dancers do. I was carrying a five-gallon bucket o'grain into a calf pen to dump into the feed trough. I had it in my right hand.I was walkin' along and took another step with my left foot and stepped on a dark, wet, inclined board and slid like a muthafucker and landed with my left leg straight out to the side, with my knee bent and my foot way off to the left behind me somewhere, right onto my ass.
If I really did have actual balls, I'd have slammed the sonsabitches right up into my throat.
Meanwhile, my right arm, courtesy of my right elbow, takes a header into the fuckin' bucket.
And, of COURSE, my entire torso twisted in a manner God did NOT intend. Fuckin' OW, ya got-damned KNOW? Yeah.
So do I. Holy hot freakin' SHIT. My.
leg.
hurts.
(damn it) From the inside of my left knee, around the front and down to the outside of my left ankle is HOT. It feels hot and sore. My right elbow/shoulder/arm is making me aware of it... kinda like it's waiting for me to relax or something, then it's gonna get me. Hard. This is one of those kind of deals where ya really don't know how bad it is til later. I mean, I can sure as hell feel soreness and aches and heat right now, but I just know after I sit down for any length of time, I'm gonna regret it. BUT... the calves are all bedded with new straw and fed. Still hafta do the horse stalls, go to the store, make dinner, do the wash, blah, blah, fuggin' BLAH, though.... Oughta be fun do to with a pronounced LIMP.
(damn it) Man, I was so pissed... I damned near cried. I don't get that pissed off very often anymore, but if I do.... Billy Jack, let alone any regular person, better look the fuck out. I couldn't move, once I wrenched my leg back to where it belongs.
I just sat there, with my elbow on my knee and my head on my hand.
(Yeah, left knee, left elbow, left hand, the one head...)
It was nice to know I could do that, at that moment. Eric hadda come help me up. Then, I just kept trembling and "walked it off". Kinda. When I didn't cry from being so pissed, Josh, the "calf kid" looks at me and says, "You da man..."
I busted up then.... laughing. That's got-damned right, I am. I "cowboy-ed up" and kept limping around, making up new cuss words.
Til Eric brought me four lollipops.
*giggles* Done already ate the green apple one.
Working on the rootbeer now. Jeezus.
Just realized these are the only thing I've eaten all day.... So...
do ya think this is a sign from Gawd about whether or not to try coordinating three jobs, or WHAT? Just ow.
(Well, not just ow... "ow" surrounded, cushioned, enveloped even, in a tapestry of cussing that the Dad in "A Christmas Story" would envy, but y'all know what I mean.)
(Which, btw, oughta scare the hell out'n ya...)
Posted by: Stevie at 05:49 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Ho, ho, ha, ha... oh, to laugh...
My car is a friggin' comedian.
I just discovered this this morning.
There, written on it, was this:
"See other side"
The "other" side... where I always am. I cracked up and said, "Aw, fuck you, Vic... ya wise-ass." Just what I need... to get my balls busted by my car... Other than this, I hafta say, this car is pretty good on shitty roads. Of course, I drive, these days, like an old woman, but still... the 'Bird didn't care how ya drove it. It's theme song was "Driving in a Winter Wonderland", which goes somethin' like this:
Across three lanes, I'm-a spinnin'.
I caused a big fuss,
when I sideswiped a bus,
Driving in this Winter Wonderland. By tomorrow, they'll have filed a lawsuit.
I'll be hearing from the lawyer Brown..."
Then again, neither is the stupid restaurant I've been trying to get hired at since we got here, the owner of which, Faaah-bio, CALLED ME TODAY!!!! How many fuckin' jobs do I need, anyway?
Christ.... I haven't gotten his message offa the phone yet, cause, 1.) "yawn"... Oh. FINALLY got around to pickin' up the friggin' phone, there, did ya Sparky?, and 2.) I had a post to do... this one.
So.
Can ya tell how impressed I am with this now?
Where was this dipshit two weeks ago?
A month ago?
Ever? I shoulda frickin' known the minute I found other things to do, the dingbat would finally call.
I honestly don't know what to do now.
I like the horse farm job.
I also like the "here and there"-type shit I do here, on this farm. I like not having to "dress up", wear friggin' makeup, have my nails "perfect" and put up with people's shit.
Animal shit is waaaaay preferrable... to me.
(Washes off easier... among other things.) Anyway...
I just got done over there a little while ago.
Now, I'm waiting for the
I'd get it myself, but I don't know where it is, even, and these bitches are HUGE.
One fills the back of the old flatbed, they're so big. AND, I also have even more shit I need to do... such as: Our horses stalls, going to the store, straightening up around here, laundry out da ass, cooking dinner....
Yeah.
I've got time for another job. *siiiigh* fuck I dunno what I'm gonna do. Guess it wouldn't hurt to call the guy.
Some day. Suppose I oughta at least get the message and see what he's after.... I'd told him I preferred mornings. Of course, I'm already working mornings.
And, some afternoons. Hell, I don't even know when to tell him I'd be available at this point. I'm NOT giving up the horse farm job.
I like the people, dogs and horses too much to do that. It's not like I didn't give Faaaah-bio every opportunity to call me BEFORE... when I didn't have jackshit to do.
I went there about 5 frickin' times, fer Christ sake. Horse/calf shit or puttin' up with people's shit...
Decisions, decisions... Oh, and waitressing pays the big wage of... *drumroll, please*... about 2 bucks and change an hour, whether you make up the rest in tips... or not. fuckshitpiss....
what to do, what to do.... Well, "what to do" right now is, stfu and go get my shit done. *deeep sigh and minute later* Awww, hell... hang on a minute.
I'm gonna go offline and see what he wants...
brb... Back.
That helped... NOT. All he said was "We haff an opening now, eef you're steel looooking for a chob..."
(My version of his Italian accent...) Didn't happen to mention WHEN, or WHAT HOURS.
Dork.
Now I'mina "haff" to go there and talk to him... a-frickin'-GAIN. FUCK!!!!!!! Yeah... yeah, fuck.
As in: "fuck" this for now... I've got people to do and things to see out the ass.
I'm balls to the wall now... BUT... I'll give it a shot... I'll try to fit him in today.
If not... there's always tomorrow. I could not screw around tomorrow at the horse farm, playin' with the dogs and shit, and get there tomorrow morning...
if I can't manage it today.... We'll see. Meantime...
I'm outta here.
Me and my wise-assed car have things to get done.
"Airbag see other side", indeed... Peace, y'all...
Posted by: Stevie at 02:13 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
December 15, 2005
I've said this before and I'mina say it again...
Jeffrey McDonald was ass-raped by the justice system.
Or, more specifically, by Brian Murtaugh, Franklin DuPree and James Blackburn, who, since Jeff's trial, has been in prison and disbarred.
And, let's not forget, also by the proven lying fuckhead, Joe McGinness.
So is Collette's brother and his wife.
So was Kassab.
And Murtaugh, that jealous numbfuck. Ya know... Jesus Christ HIMSELF could skywrite "Jeff McDonald is INNOCENT" and they'd still pull this shit. Meanwhile, a damned good surgeon's life is ruined.
He has one life and thanks to a buncha political bullshit, it's been destroyed.
Just like Collette's and the kids lives were. Un-friggin'-believable... except for the fact that the government is involved, which makes it not only believable, but expected. Okay... now I'm gonna go vacuum and alla that. (I was enroute to do so last time. Then, I went to the Yahoo homepage and saw that headline and.... oooh... don't get me started about this, ya know? Pisses me right off, every time...) Oh and if yer gonna gonna try to bore me to death with the prosecution's party line blather, save your breath.
I, of all people, know HORSESHIT when I'm presented with it.
If you're a government/prosecution drone, I'll tell ya the same thing now that I will after you barf your inane opinion in my comments... piss up a rope.
Don't waste my time and I won't humiliate you publically, okay?
Good.
Posted by: Stevie at 02:16 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
A brief timeline...
About two weeks ago, I began to catch a cold.
Last Wednesday, with the cold getting worse, I saw the ad for the horse farm job. I went over there that day Went back again the next day, Thursday, and they told me I was hired and to come back at 7am. Later that night, it snowed 8". Next day, I went to work at the horse farm for the first time. The next day (Saturday), my little once-a-month terrorist/visitor showed up. (One interesting sidenote: Due to being broke as hell (so far), I was kinda worried about this month's go-round with that. I didn't have the money to buy "cotton corks", as it were, so I hunted around and found 10. It ended with two left to go. *whew- wiping forehead* Thank you, Lord.... both for finding enough and not needing all of them.) The next day, Sunday, while battling the worsening cold which had parked a tractor-trailer on my chest AND my little terrorist buddy, my left shoulder decided to take a powder on me and I couldn't turn my head to the left a damned bit. Hell, moving my shoulders or arms at ALL hurt like hell. Monday I took a handful of Ibuprofen and my shoulder backed off some.Tuesday my little terrorist buddy fucked off... be nice if it was "for good".
Wednesday the tractor-trailer has been traded in for a Volkswagon and I once again have use of my neck/shoulder/arms. NOW, I'm cleaning the house, doing dishes, about to do a load of laundry, mop the kitchen floor and crap like that. Ain't been doin' much of that shit since last week.
All I did was cook, mostly. Oh, and I got my sleep schedule totally fubar-ed, of course, but... that's nuttin' new, is it? See, what I've been doing every day is this: Go to the horse farm at 7am. Clean about a dozen stalls. (Oh, and anybody who has anything to do with horses that DOESN'T have something to do with horseshit is NOT a real horseman. Most likely what they are is a yuppie-shitheel who only wants enough to do with horses to ride and use them, not take care of them... the kind of people who go to "horse facilities", not barns... know what I mean? Horses and shit... can't have one without the other, if you're FOR REAL about it...)
Anyway... I do my shit at that farm.
Then, I go to the farm my horses live on and clean more stalls. At least two, maybe as many as five, depending on what Larry's wife has gotten done. If hers need doing when I do mine, I do hers, too.
What the hell, ya know?
I am a "professional", after all... *sardonic grin* Then, I come home, putz around at re-arranging shit (as opposed to actually cleaning), then go to sleep for a few hours, get up, cook, fuck around, sleep some more on the livingroom floor, usually, then get up, clean a little something or other and go to the horse farm and start all over again. Between the cold from hell, the terrorist visitor, worrying about money (among other "green" things) and the desire, if not the strength of will, to get the houseshit done, it's no wonder I got all fricked up with sleep. I'm a night person to the nth degree to begin with. Always have been. Aaanyway... I'm gettin' it done now.
I just went to get a cuppa coffee a minute ago and, while I was there, I went ahead and mopped the kitchen floor, so that's done. As are the dishes. Laundry's next.
After I start my "Daria" tape. Then, vacuuming. Then, I'll probably lay down for a few and go to the farm and....
you know. Or maybe I'll bake a cake.
Carrot with vanilla icing.
This would be easier to do, of course, if my retarded cats hadn'ta broken my last Corelleware bowl.
It was my big one.
It was tan, with a white wheat design around the outside. I got it from Dad years ago. It's survived all this time with me, moves out the ass, and now it's gone.
Detonated on the floor like a big, tan bomb.
Stupid fur-bearing boneheads.
Okay.
Just started Daria, so now I'm off.
Start a load of wash.
Vacuum.
Maybe bake a cake. We shall see. Meantime, I need a BOWL. (For those who're wondering, I mean BOTH... *grin*) Peace, y'all....
Posted by: Stevie at 01:37 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
December 10, 2005
Ah fuck, man...
Richard Pryor is dead.
Heart attack.
Today... Saturday.
You were one of my favorites.
Tell Sam I still love him, wouldja? RIP, Mudbone.
You sure do deserve it. fuck, man...
Posted by: Stevie at 11:06 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
December 08, 2005
And...
I got it.
Larry didn't mind the idea at all and I got it. In fact, he even said that it would be really good, since it's mostly mornings (for now), because I could "still be here in the afternoons..." *grin* Start tomorrow at 7am. There are currently 30 horses, whose sales prices range from 10 to 65 THOUSAND dollars.One stud, Hank, is a mere two points away from a World Championship in Halter.
One Jack Russell Terrier, Rocky, is bee-utiful and so far, those two critters are my favorites, though I have to admit, I didn't see one single animal I didn't like, including the cat. Anyway, I've got an assload of crap to do now.
I just can't decide if I should do it now, then go to bed whenever, or go to bed real soon and do "it" when I get up at around, probably, 3am... Decisions, decisions... Meantime... Peace, y'all...
Posted by: Stevie at 05:56 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
)December 07, 2005
Coupla things...
First off, if any of ya's get within lighting distance of a candle, light it for me, wouldja please?
Pray, light candles, do naked dances involving chicken bones, whatever floats yer boat, but just do it, pleasepleaseplease?
The way we left it the other day is: his schedule is full right now, but "this shit changes every week. People go back to school, quit, run off... ya never know when, but it happens and when it does, I'll call ya..." Yeah, okay. Meanwhile...
We're so broke I can't even pay attention. I mean, it's amazing that Eric's making enough to cover the entire child support/arrears amount and we still have money left, but it's not much after Jersey takes their cut, ya know?
It's also amazing how much just the act of living, staying alive, costs. Food, heating oil, utilites... not to mention gas, insurance... shit like that.
Without me working too, it's next to impossible. So, anyway, I was perusing the paper today and saw two ads for part time "taking care of critters" work and did a reverse search on both phone numbers. The better of the two jobs just happens to be about 2, 2 and a half football fields away, if ya go straight across the field behind this house. It's a little better'n a 1/4 of a mile, if ya drive. It's the horse farm I've been using as a "put our horses out or not" indicator since we moved here.
If they put alla theirs out, I figure they know better than me what the weather's like around here, so I put ours out. If they don't, I don't. So, I find out where the job is and went right on over there and met the guy. I thought for about a nanosecond about how I was going to explain how I knew where he lived, since the ad only had his phone number, but I figured, "Screw it. If anybody can pull off explaining it, I can..." and went for it. It didn't seem to bother him a bit, finding out that I'd "cyber-stalked" him and all, so... Thank you, Lord.
*grin* He's an older guy, married and seems really nice. He builds calf-barns, kinda like hothouses as opposed to regular "barns", and needs someone to take care of his herd (and I do mean HERD... I don't know how many horses are there, but it's a LOT) when he has to go away to build these structures. This job and I were made for each other.
It's about 4 hours a day.
It's taking care of HORSES, HORSES and even more HORSES.
It's right in my own backyard.
It's money for doing something I love. There's way more to all of it, BUT... there are some baby cows needing bedding out there right now and I do still have one other thing I wanna mention... I happened upon Livey's place, via Rob, of course, due to a porno-potato post. I fiddled with the address in the search bar and went to her main page.
There, I saw a picture of a cute ol' guy named Joe. So, I started (trying) to read. (I say "trying", because this machine was being a total ass, going slower than molassas rolling uphill in frggin' February- more about this in a second...) Anyway, I read what I was able to, and, even in the midst of being driven batso by this piece of shit, I was really touched by one (at least one) of the things she'd written about. (All of the "Joe" stories are intriguing...) She was at the grocery store and saw some random old guy making his way across the potentially treacherous parking lot and went outta her way to help him get to his car, load himself AND his groceries and be on his way. That was fuckin' AWESOME of her.
So much so, that I'm gonna follow her lead with it.
Not that I run over old people or am rude to them in the first place (kids-probably, old people-no), but... I'm just gonna start looking, paying way better attention, when I'm out and about and see if anyone looks like they could maybe use some help too, and if they do, help 'em. I already do shit like helping the guy behind me reach the shit in the bottom of their cart in line at the grocery store and hold doors and stuff, but... I'm gonna take it further. I felt s'dammned good about what Livey did, I can't wait to see how it feels doing it myself.... *giggle* And, while I'm on the subject, God Bless her for her patience and what she's doing with her life, taking care of people like Joe. Not all old people are cute and sweet and sometimes they can be totally outta hand, even... this I know, because my dopey mother used to be a RN in the psych ward of a nursing home.
I gotta tell ya, I'd be fired after the first time one of the "residents" spit a mouthful of beets at me.
I don't think I could do it.
Besides, even the nice ones... ya get attached and they die.
Not good.
I've had enough of that in my life already, thanks. But, this "random acts of kindness"?
Oh, hell yes. And, every time I do, I ain't gonna be able to help but to think of Livey, so I guess, in a way, without even really knowing her except for in Rob's comments, it's dedicated to her, for the inspiration, that I'm gonna add this to my life. So, thank you, Livey, for showing me a way to be useful and feel good all at the same time.
AND... the killer part is... IT INVOLVES PEOPLE!!! That's frying my mind...
(She doesn't know what she did here, does she? *grin*) Also, I wanna thank her for the improvement in the running of this pooter, too.
I am SO determined to read the rest of her site that I ran alla the shit, Adaware, Sybot, disc cleanup, Scandisc and disc defrag and yeah, it sure did find shit.
All gone now. So, as soon as I get back in here from bedding calves, I'm gonna go visit Wisconson for a while again.
See what else I can learn. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 04:46 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
December 06, 2005
I have a problem...
No, not that one.
Not the "mental" one...
I have a waterbed. I've had this stupid thing since 1995. It came with George. Somehow, I retained custody of the damned thing. (Actually, with what a major league pain right in the ASS this thing is, maybe him not wanting it anymore ain't such a mystery...)
Anyway... it came complete, heater and all.
AND, it worked. Now, the control box for the first heater was shit. Nothing left to it except the wires and a little metal spike that the control knob belonged on. It was ugly, but... IT WORKED. So ya couldn't see what it was set on. Who cared? Not me.
I set it on, like, "boil" and just kept the room it was in cool. All was well. Then... we moved. APPARENTLY, in the move, the old heater control up and died. We get here, set up the bed, fill it, plug it in and... nuttin'.
*siigh* So, off I go to get a new one.
Okay. Bring it home, open 'er up and what's this? A thermal fuse? Wtf? Supposed to "trip" in case of "catastrophic heat event" or "consumer misinstallation". Now, are those two ambiguous phrases, or friggin' what? Any-goddamned-way... installed it. Filled it. Again, within a week, it's "cold".
Not at the top temp, where I have it set. Fuck. Call the place I got it and they exchanged it. Bring home the new one... same shit. Now... I have QUESTIONS about this "thermal fuse". I have questions about "ambient room temperature". I have questions about the goddamned stupid sensor.
Boy, do I have QUESTIONS. I have drained this bed FIVE TIMES since we've moved here, fuckin' around, trying to get the bed HOT. I have researched EVERYTHING possible on here, trying to get answers.
Hell, I even called some place called "The Waterbed Doctor" in Fontana, Ca., because "Fontana, Ca." is the only identifying info I can find on who makes this heater. Since he and the anonymous manufacturer of this stupid heater are in the same town, I called him. (He'd heard of them, but didn't have a phone number... yeah, I asked.) It's called a "Performance Master Advantage Plus". (Yeah, and I think that "plus" is that thermal fuse thing, which I'd like to bite in half right about now...) Anyway...
With the second heater, the one that's up there right now, I did everything BY THE BOOK. The control box is mounted on the bed frame. The heater is placed correctly, as is the liner and the mattress itself. Now, about the sensor... some places say to put it 12" from the pad. Some say 8", some say more than 12". It's 12" away right now. And the bed is 85 degrees.
Not good.
BAD, even.
Fucker is COLD. And, I HAVE a cold, so this ain't gonna fly any more.
(However, the whole bed is about to... as in: Fly right out the window... in small, hacked up pieces...) WHAT am I doing wrong? According to the dude in Ca., filling the bed with pure hot water isn't gonna trip the fuse. Something like not unplugging the heater when draining the bed will do that. So, it's when the heater itself becomes too hot from within itself that the thermal fuse blows, not just from hot water being used to fill the bed. (Altho, the dude did say that pure hot could harm the bladder. Whatever...) Also, if this thermal fuse does trip, it's supposed to not work at all, not just get to 85 degrees and stay there.
Which is what it's doing. Same as the last one did... The light on the control box has yet to go off even once and it's been about two weeks... THIS TIME. I do have a mattress pad on it. I also have no less than FIVE heavy blankets on it.
Still only goes to 85 degrees. WHAT, short of setting it on FIRE, will get it where it oughta be? Where does the sensor REALLY belong? What is this thermal fuse thing and am I actually fuckin' things up from the get-go by using pure hot water, which is over 130 degrees? (The "Doctor" said no to that, but, I want a second opinion...) Now, what I'm gonna do is this:
Get dressed and go outside and bed calves.
Then, later, Eric and I are gonna move the sensor farther away than it already is from the heater pad.
This, of course, involves (kill me now) d-r-a-i-n-i-n-g the fuckin' thing again, at least enough to lift a corner and move the sensor. Then, I'm gonna refill whatever we take out with HOT water again, put the mattress pad back on, put the 87 pounds of blankets back on and see what happens. However, before I do alla that, I'm gonna check in here, to see if anyone has seen this post and knows what the hell I'm supposed to be doing. So... if you have any expertise in this area, please say so, so I can pick yer brain before I blow my own out from frustration, okay?
Posted by: Stevie at 03:54 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
December 05, 2005
Okay, so I'm retarded, right?
I mean, we all know that, right?
Right.
Well... y'all may not know just how deep-seated this retardation is, but... leave it to me to e'splain it.
I stay up nights, thanks to that idiotic TV channel "The N", til 1:30 am to tape episodes of Daria.
I do this because, apparently, the other 49 tapes I've made just aren't enough.
SO... I have this one tape... it has a buncha episodes on it, with room for just a few more.
Now, I do my taping on the "kitchen TV", which is the same one that used to be parked next to this computer. The TV is on a shelf next to and slightly above the stove.
No matter what other shit I tape, only Daria episodes go on my Daria tapes. Earlier, I was frantically scrambling to find a tape with some room on it, so I could tape (yet another) episode of That 70's Show. The one with Danny Bonaduce in it....
Anyway, I'm caught off-guard, grabbing tapes, shoving them in, seeing that they're full, trying another... all while boiling chicken.
I had my Daria tape safely set on top of the TV.
Well, apparently, whilst shoving one tape in, I shoved too hard, because the (damned) Daria tape falls offa the top of the TV RIGHT INTO the pot of boiling chicken. FUCKALL!!!!! Bare-fingered, I reached into the cauldren and retrieved my now "blanched" tape. I was PISSED. Not only did I end up not taping the Bonaduce episode of That 70's Show, I thought I'd wrecked a tape I'd put about a week of insomnia into. I mean... chicken water, ya know? With alla that fat/grease/not-recommended-for
VHS-tapes-GICK in it. Couldn'ta been just plain boiling water.
No.
Of course not.
HAD to be chicken water. So, I shake as much water out of it as I can and continue cooking... (DINNER, not tapes.) After I'd calmed down and had a piece of chicken, I took that tape apart.
I opened the case, removed the tape, wiped the whole got-damned thing off with tissues while winding it from one reel to the other, then put it all back together and.... IT WORKED!!!!
I'VE GOT MY DARIA TAPE BACK!!!!! Now, I'm gonna go repair another one that broke about 6 months ago. That's easy.
Somehow, when my tapes do break, it always seems to be at one end or the other, never in the middle, so all I hafta do is tape it back to the reel. This I've done before. Chicken water fix, no. Nice to know it can be done. But...
who, besides me, would ever discover this kinda shit?
Posted by: Stevie at 09:51 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Heh... forgot something...
Posted by: Stevie at 12:52 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
November 29, 2005
You fuckin' wit' ME? You fuckin' wit ME?!!?
I swear, if I didn't need to run to the store for smokes and go put the horses out-n-shit, I'd sit right here and beat the holy hell outta this stupid computer.
For SOME (goddamned stupid fuckin') reason, I CAN'T SEND EMAIL.I click send and it does NOTHING.
Piece of shit.
I even went into "email help" and changed the settings from "color and graphics" to "plain text", in case THAT was the problem, but APPARENTLY... it wasn't.
MuthaFUCKer. This is the second time I've tried to send mail recently and got nuttin'.
AND, I was talking to my comp-u-tater God last night, too.
Did I remember to tell him about this... this ANOMALY?
Noooo.
'Course not. And, did I get a TWO SENTENCE reply to a comment I left at a buddy's blog and write a novella in response WHICH I NOW CANNOT SEND?
Yeeessss.
Of COURSE. So, in response to my machine and Yahoo mail, I say wholeheartedly, "Fuck y'all anyhow. I'll get this shit where it needs to go mySELF." (Man, what I wouldn't give for a quarter stick I could shove into some PORTAL in the back of this computer right about now... grrrr.)
Posted by: Stevie at 01:12 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
November 28, 2005
And...
Posted by: Stevie at 11:02 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
November 25, 2005
Willingway Hospital
311 Jones Mill Road
Statesboro, Georgia 30458
Posted by: Stevie at 02:29 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
November 19, 2005
Ya know...
There's almost nothing nicer than the feeling of brand new, soft-n-fuzzy sweatpants on newly mown legs.
I'm just sayin'.*grin, as in "shit eatin'"*
Posted by: Stevie at 04:18 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
November 12, 2005
Here's a picture of the fire I saw...
I found out from the Boss that the location of the fire was about 6 miles away.
Just wow...
("Borrowed" from the local paper's online edition and it was 360 firefighters, not 500...)
Posted by: Stevie at 11:46 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Not a house, thank God....
It was an empty furniture warehouse that burned the other night.
Took 500 firefighters to put it out, too.
Didn't take 'em long, though, did it?
'Bout two hours... pretty good.
Fucked up thing is, it was MILES from here. Next town over, from what I understand.
But, I could see those columns of flames.
I knew whatever it was, was fully engulfed, but I thought it was closer.
Biiiig fire.
Needed more layers.
No such thing as "too many layers".
Now, I need to get proficient with the curling iron again.
I'd forgotten that part....
*sigh* Nuttin' else goin' on.
No job yet, but now that I've finally gotten my hair halfway styled-n-shit, that's gonna change.
(In other words, now I don't have any more legit excuses not to pursue this shit....)
I can make up some stupid ones, though.... Gonna go do something.
I have no idea what.
Hope it's legal or that I don't get caught...
*snerk* Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 03:21 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
November 11, 2005
Holy God, I think I'm watching someone's house burn down...
About quarter of two (around an hour ago), I went out to change the bedding in the two chicken cages and the rabbit cage.
No sooner did I get into the garage, I hear sirens blaring. It gave me chills because it's been so long since I've heard them this early in the morning, plus that whole episode with Dad and the ambulance, plus, when I left Salem County, about the only time they'd blow the sirens at night was if the nuke plant melted or something. Anyway, I'm out there, in the dark of 1:45am, listening to these sirens. First there was just one, way off in front of me. Then, another one joined in, off to my left. I did two of the cages, then needed some water for one chicken, another trash bag and another pair of rubber gloves, so I came in, got the shit and went back out.So far, the whole thing has been about 10 or 15 minutes, maybe. I do the last cage, check everybody's feed and water, pack it up and, as I'm walking back up the sidewalk to the front door, I look off to the left, past the barns and I see a massive red glow. I also start to hear vehicle sirens converging on that general area. I stand there, staring for a minute... it's immense, this glow. I come in, grab my binoculars and go upstairs into the front bedroom we don't use and look out the window. Christ, now I can see flames... individual FLAMES shooting up every so often. Then, it hits me that this may very well be the cute little place I've seen when I was out on the horse.
Then, my gut chimes in with "electric heater".
Man... It was still glowing when I sat down here just now.
In fact, let me go look again... Okay, good... sky is dark, finally.
They must've gotten it knocked down, then...
Thank God. Hope everybody is okay over there... Wow.
Almost exactly two hours, beginning to end. I went out and heard the sirens around quarter of two and now it's quarter of four... Two hours and somebody's life has been fundamentally, dramatically and hopefully not "death-ically" changed. And, I happened to see it happen. Man. Okay then...
Just wanted to include you guys in this.
I didn't wanna know about it all by myself over here, ya know? Think I may be going out on the horse tomorrow afternoon.
Go see if it's where I think it is.
God be with them.... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 02:51 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
November 06, 2005
Naw, I ain't dead....
Jes' been fuckin' off, basically.
Making half-hearted attempts to become gainfully employed while still arranging the house-n-shit.
As I was trudging upstairs to offload, it occured to me that I wished, BADLY, that I was within driving distance of the plant where Dad works. Had I been, I'd have driven there, met him at the gate and got a hug... or four.
Needed one (and still do) like a mo'faker. Then, I called him at work instead and... he was there, yay me, picking the right time....
Spent about 2 or 3 hours on the phone with him and felt muchos bedders after. Then, Thursday, Eric's boss decided to start showing me how to do the calves "just in case".
Then, Friday morning, "just in case" happened and I found myself being the calf chick once again, albeit temporarily... for now. *grin* Gawd Almighty, I didn't realize how much I miss those little shits. Calves are just so damned cute and sweet and eminantly love-on-able....
Ya gotta love a cow that not only can't really hurt ya, but that you can throw if he/she does somehow.... (kidding, of course...)(usually...) Now, I am soooo on the fence as to what my first choice for a job would be.
Waitress/calf chick, calf chick/waitress.... which?
There are pros and cons to both sides and I can't decide.
Thank God I don't have to yet. Also, Eric and I got were taken to a dinner banquet by the Boss.
The Pennsy young farmers group... or something like that.
Absolutely the nicest people, I swear....
I've never seen anything like it, or if I have, it's been so long ago I've forgotten. And, about an hour ago, I finally got around to hanging the damned pictures around here.
Looks much more like "home" to me now that I can, with a mere tilt of my (air)head, look at Benicio, Belushi, Ozzy and Jesus.
Not to mention my two most favorite flags... the confederate and the POW/MIA banners.
Beautiful. Now, I have one more load of wash to dry and about 30 lbs of meat to repackage and get into the freezer.
Oh yeah... there are a coupla dishes that need to be dumped and washed waiting in the fridge for me, too.
*siiigh*
Naturally. Well, anyway... the house is now 99.999% done.
It looks good. Oh yeah... almost forgot....
Eric made me do something the other night that I swore I'd never do.
It was almost literally sickening.
My stomach gave me holy old hell before I did it.
I didn't wanna do it, but... he made me. He made me... he INSISTED that I... *gulp*... cut his HAIR!!!!! OHGAWDTHEHUMANITY!!!!!!!!!!! Dude is stylin', lem'me tell ya's.
Amazingly enough, it actually looks pretty damned good.
Da Boss said it looked like he didn't even get a haircut, it was so smooth.
Now, that may sound odd, to be happy he said that, but, that's what I was shooting for.
I mean, hell, it was obvious he'd had a haircut.
There was a good 8" missing, ya know?
BUT... it didn't have that shorn, white-walled, "just got cut" look to it. I layered it. I also saved the ponytail.
(I saw "Starman", I know what can be done with hair....) Anyway...
Gonna go play with/wrap some meat.
By myself.
Damn it. Might make a cake too.
Spice/cream cheese.
I've also got this half an idea about making the component parts of tacos.
Make all the shit now, for tomorrow.
Or later, depending on what time I finally shut the fuck up and post this. Now, is that everything pretty much?
I think so.
Jesus, I've been boring, lately. Ah well... "boring" is better than most definitions of "exciting" that spring to mind. 'Course, to me "exciting" and "problematic" are synonamous, for the most part.
My life was "exciting" enough for long enough when I had enough energy on tap to deal with it.
These days, I'll take all the "boring" I can get and then some, thanks. (Now, was that "up" or "old"?) I'm outta here. Peace, y'all
Posted by: Stevie at 11:56 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 24, 2005
Almost done...
Got the last load of laundry in, finally.
I found another one, after I got what I thought was that last one done before.
(Scariest part is... I know what I mean.) Went to the store.
Got cigarettes and no, nobody said anything.
Came home, made dinner.
Oh, and guess what we had... Tacos. Not porkchops.
No.
Of course not. Tacos.
*lol* Ah well, like one of my other heros says, "Life is what happens when you're busy makin' other plans..." Know what?
Doug, from "King of Queens" is a cute little dipshit. Anyway...
Where was I? hmmm.... Shit.
I can't think of what else I was thinking.
I keep watching King of Queens instead.... Now I remember... I got my shower and washed my hair. Only thing left is "get a job". That's what tomorrow is for, correct? I hope so, 'cause I'm having a hard enough time staying awake long enough to get the last load into the dryer (and, for the record, the very next person who spells "flier" wrong anywhere on the Internet, I'mina hunt them down and beat them with my handy-dandy Webster's dictionary, I swear to fuck...). I wanna do that (get the last load drying, not kill some illiterate asshat with a thick book, tho that does have a macabre attraction all it's own *weg*), because the last load is Eric's favorite pair of coveralls.
They're those tan, thick ones... I forget the damned brand name. They also make coats, they're really heavy, waterproof, too, I think.
Guys love 'em.
Damn.
C'mon brain... don't make me hafta walk out to the mudroom and read a label, now...
Da fuck are they called? *walks over and gets a cigarette, not three feet away and * CARHART!!!!!
That's the name.
Thank you God.
And brain. Now, what about Carharts? Oh yeah.
The Carhart coveralls need to be ready for morning.
Ready= Dry. When they're dry, the house will be the "donest" it's been so far.
("Donest"= Most done, btw... sorry. *giggle*) And, my back is sooo stiff.
I've been feeling what wants to be a spasm under my right shoulder blade and only by the Grace of God has it not gone there and my left lower back feels like I got clocked a good one with my Pusser Club. I must say, I'd make a lovely sight, hobblin' on in and asking for a waitress job pretty much anywhere right about now. It's times like this that I'm at my closest to believing that I really am too old for this shit, I just ain't sure which shit it is I'm too old for. This time, however, I'm kinda leaning toward the "sleep on the living room floor, then clean the whole house in less than a day"-shit.
That just may have sump'tin to do with it, ya think? Alright...
Upstairs to see if that load is dry yet, so I can put the Carhart in.
While Carhart dries, see about Christmas lights in the stairway... maybe.
(Also maybe fall down stairs, or even possibly UP the stairs, if I try any kind of "balancing while looking up" kinda shit right now. Too tired to even write right, let alone hang lights with pushpins over my head on steps. With cats "helping", like Damien on the trike on The Omen....) Peace, y'all.
Posted by: Stevie at 11:01 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
'ello...
How're y'all?
I'm awake.
That's when I woke up on the floor, covered in cats.
Seems I dozed off watching some damned thing on TV, I forget what. The important thing there was that I woke up in pleeenty of time to tape Daria again.
*rolls eyes and giggles* And, that I didn't miss Breaking Bonaduce.
I did miss My Fair Brady, but who cares about that shit?
The only thing these two shows have in common, besides both being on VH1 and about ECS's, is that they both have a total bitch for a female lead.
That Adrienne chick is a waste of space, air, skin and sperm.
And, Gretchen?
Don't even get me started. Let me just say this...
Rob won't have as hard a time as Danny in rehab chiefly because Rob doesn't have some uncaring, cold, heartless, opportunistic BITCH dragging him down, like Danny does.
She's about as fuckin' supportive as a paper crutch.
I hate 'er. In other news...
I turned in the app for the place down the road.
Dropped it off Saturday night.
(And, yes, I did just hear the Bay City Rollers spell-shouting that out as I typed it. I always do.) Also, I have three other leads, all outta the paper and not even the "real" paper.
One of the places dresses it's servers in period costumes.
It's a tad "classy" for me, I fear, but I still wanna check it out because I kinda like the period dress shit and they do have an ad.
It's just that's it's in a colonial-era restored house and those kinda places, I feel like a bull in a... colonial house and I just wait to fuck up somehow and... I usually do, or at least feel like I did.
I'm just not comfortable in artsy-fartsy places like that.
Antiques and shit are cool... from a distance. I belong in, at MOST, a diner/family/casual kinda place.
Like the Red Lion... *sob* *siiigh* Ya know...
Commuting 300 miles a day is almost starting to look good, here....
If it wasn't for Joanie and Tommy...
Those two psychos....
Man, I miss Gus...
And George and the other George and Frank and Nancy and Shirl and Linda and I need to find a fuckin' job.
Now. Well, not now now.
Later today, now.
Now now I need to clean da house.
Nothing major, except that this place is bigger, so that "kinda cluttered, hasn't been too bad so far" thing actually is a little worse, because there's more of it.
Not so much a deeper layer of crap, just a wider, longer area of it. Oh, and two floors.
Not necessarily "of crap", but two floors to get it all done.
Half the shit down here belongs up there and the washer and dryer are up there, too, so to be "done", that includes the wash, which includes the second floor.
(Which includes... steps. /whine) Any-gotdamned-way...
I'm awake, I don't have a headache, I actually have a modicum of energy and the idea of cleaning and driving around, looking for a job doesn't, for once, make me wanna go to bed, directly to bed, do not pass go, do not make two hundred dollars a freakin' week...
Stupid, I know, but it's also true.
If I think about this shit AT ALL I get worn out before I even start. Except, not now.... So, before I do feel blah again, I think I oughta go start. Loose plan is:
Laundry (one load left)
Shower (soon)
Go to store (after shower)
Find job (if not today, tomorrow...) All today, too. Wonder how much of this I can get done in twelve hours? Oh, better include "make dinner", too, if I take the whole twelve. Eric'll be done by then and we're out of KFC now.
Guess that leads to "oughta make pork chops, not chicken, for dinner". See, we haven't had KFC in a coupla years, since that one back in Bucks, near Doylestown Hospital closed.
Then, we saw one in Hanover last week, or whenever it was that we got the new water bed heater.
We thought that was the closest one, til I drove around Gettysburg a few days ago and found another one.
It's literally a stone's throw from the battlefields.
Like... next to, or the last, business at the edge of the first field. Anyway, we went there Friday and got a bucket o'chicken, so chicken for dinner tonight probably isn't the best choice. Mr. Picky can't eat the same thing for a solid week, like me and Dad can and do.
We can make a TON of chicken potpie and eat it til it's gone... a month, if necessary, I suppose.
Not Eric, though... man. *giggle*
He requires new shit every coupla days, if not every danged day.
*lmao*
(And, it just occured to me, as many times as I've typed "chicken" in the last few sentences, it looks like I have some kind of unhealthy obsession with chicken, doesn't it? Jeez...) Ok, so it's PORK for dinner.
No chicken.
God. Alrighty then...
Gonna go clean. Oooh... I just got an idea... I oughta come back here and update in the EP as I get shit done. Kinda like crossing shit offa the list.... Mikey in Brooklyn... *grin*
I hear ya... Oh yeah... so I don't forget again...
Use the Chistmas lights in the stairway and any place else there's not enough light...
Good idea, I just keep forgetting to do it. Pray for me people.
I really do need physical strength.
(Wonder if a couple of those diet/supplement things would help? Fuck, I miss Ephedra....) Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 06:40 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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