October 22, 2005
*siiiigh*
I did move to Gettysburg, right?
I didn't somehow slip and end up in Seattle, did I?
Nuttin' but little dark drippy clouds all the way across. Now, I'm even more glad I went out on Action two days ago, HOWEVER...
I was wanting to do it again THIS YEAR. "Oh well", you're probably saying. "Now you have the time to finish the details in the house." Optimistic fool. Pfft. No.
What I seem to have "time" for is being awake at the proper time to make new tapes of episodes of Daria, which comes on in the wee hours on NOG.
Last night I got two episodes back-to-back. 'Course, I hadda wait til 4am for that. After which, I wasn't really tired yet, but I went to bed anyway, in a futile attempt to get my shit back on track.
Didn't really work.
Oh sure.
The alarm clock got me up and all, but still....
This getting up around noon shit has GOT to stop. It's too easy to do and not condusive enough to having a job. Anyway.... Here's the (very loose and subject to change without notice) plan: New cuppa coffee.
Upstairs, to the library for another chapter or two of Donny freakin' Osmond's life story again.
Back down here.
At some point, go to the store.
Need tp and catfood.
Probably a coupla other things which'll come to me later, after my brain finishes firing up.
Hang pictures.
(Especially the ones from Animal House... I miss John's cute lil face.)
Don't forget the Jesus/Ozzy Osbourne pictures.... (two gorgeous shots, one of each guy, that I hang together, just because I'm weird like that and I like the looks I get when people see it....)
Pick kitty-potties. Oh, and here's a novel thought...
Fill out and return the application to the restaurant up the road. And, here's aNOTHER thought...
Go get a few more of those thangs and fill out and return them PROMPTLY. (As opposed to the manner in which ya returned this one. What's it been? Week, week and a half? Ditz...) Okay...
That gives me a good start. Wow.
Just realized something.
I can kinda see what Rob's going through by watching Breaking Bonaduce.
Danny went into rehab last week. (Of course, this was being shot in May, but it's "last week" on the show...)
I already know Danny made it.
Far as I know, he and his wife (whom I don't like much, she's a BITCH) are still together, which they won't be if he fucks up again, sooo.... And, lem'me tell ya what...
If Danny can do it, so can Rob.
Rob's stronger, has more support and more desire, I think, than Danny did/does for this. He'll be fine.
Now, go write him a letter.
*grin* Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 02:17 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 21, 2005
What an... that goddamned... loser dickhead....
MotherFUCK, man.
I swear ta Gawd, I'm about to drive 150 miles, soley to go kick Bill Garges... WILLIAM HENRY GARGES, that is, straight in the balls... IF HE HAD ANY. That stupid loser DICK. I truly hope he loses every fuckin' dime, hence every other animal on that dying-assed "farm" of his.I say "every other", because it's already to late for Rootbeer. Bill-the Stupid Fuck killed the poor, scraggly, ancient, idiotic little thing. Rootbeer was the "farm dog" back there.
He was old, ugly and kinda stupid.
The dog, not Bill, although he is, also... dick. Anyway, stupid Rootbeer used to "chase cars".
More specifically, he tried to bite your tires.
Stupid fuckin' dog.... Anyway, he did this.
Bill KNEW THIS. He never ONCE tried to contain Rootbeer.
He never ONCE tried to slow the FUCK DOWN or avoid the dog. Bill just drove on, la de fuckin' da and sure enough, Bill the Stupid Dick ran 'im over and killed him. Wish he'd run the fuck over HIMSELF and do such a good job. Poor stupid dog. Dog was about 15 years old, too.
Faithful to the end companion to that asshole. Protector of the farm. I call 'im "stupid" because in all the time we lived there, that dumb dog ALWAYS barked at the 'Bird every time I passed him (mind you, not passed OVER-as in KILLED- him) in the driveway. I used to just drone "Yeah, yeah, yadda, yadda... shut up DOOOOOG" out the window at him. Bill the Dickhead LOSER asked me once why our dopey dog April always still barked upon seeing him or hearing his voice.
At the time I said, "I dunno. Why does your dumb dog still bark at my car?", to which he had no answer, naturally.
Loser. Wanna know the truth?
Once she gets to know ya, April only ever barks at cruel, mean-intentioned people, the kind of people who'd kick at her (Jon) or were just cruelly stupid about animals (Bill). I trust April's reactions to people better'n I do my own.
She KNOWS asshole when she hears, sees or senses it THAT'S WHY SHE ALWAYS BARKED AT YOU, BILL THE LOSER DICKHEAD!!!!
She always knew what a fuckhead you are.
Same as Jon.
We both hated him, too....
She'd bark her head off at him the entire time he was infecting our space at all and I'd have to struggle to contain the compelling urge to projectile vomit at the sound, sight or smell of him. I didn't have quite the same active, sparkley hatred for Bill... til now.
Fuckin' killed poor old Rootbeer....
Jerkoff. Now do ya see why I'd not leave even ONE hair of one cat behind?
NOT ONE!!!! And, this is why. Bill Garges... it's over, Dumbass.
You've been "over", done, since BEFORE Eric and I got there.
He tried his ASS OFF to save that farm for you.
You fought him every dollar of the way.
You're a danger to yourself, others and every goddamned, trapped animal you have there.
Sell them, turn them loose, give them away, just get those poor animals AWAY FROM YOU, before you kill them all through neglect, cheapness or just plain stupidity, the way I think you're gonna kill yourself. Can't do ANY of that soon enough, BILL, ya know? Going by the way all of your adult "kids" act, most specifically Billy and Bob, and by the sad shape that farm is in and has been for years... you've always been a dick.
It's obvious. Money, money, money... that's all that matters to you, ain't it?
Even to the point that you hurt your own family and animals. Well, Dickhead.... tell ya what.
That tumor in your head... the one you won't get taken care of?
Just name it "Karma" and let it kill you.
Slowly and painfully, if that's how it has to work. It's what you've earned being the way you are. "That's the way we've done it for years..." Yeah, and that's the way it's gonna kill you, that farm and every animal on it. You first.
Then, MAYBE, the farm or ANY animal on it may have a chance. Rootbeer... you deserved better.
Dog-dude, if I'd have had any idea... I'd have taken you, too.
I'm sorry you got no better ending than to be squashed by a dickhead in the back driveway.
Or... did you committ suicide?
Wouldn't surprise me much if ya did....
Still... not even you deserved that.
So, I am sorry. Glad ya got outta there, though... Now... to start looking into making some phone calls to make sure those other animals are safe from this scourge, this ASSHOLE. Bill Garges shouldn't be allowed to have a PLANT, let alone a creature of any kind. Loser.
Dickhead. Thank you God, for getting us the FUCK outta there.
Just wish ya coulda let Storm come, too.... Poor fuckin' stupid old Rootbeer....
Posted by: Stevie at 01:30 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 17, 2005
The definition of a hero....
According to my handy-dandy Webster's New World Dictionary, it's "any person, especially a man, who is admired for courage, nobility, etc."
noble adj 1. well known, famous or renowned. 2. having high moral qualities. 3. excellent. 4. grand; stately. Okay. Makes sense. Wanna see the word personified? I've thought of Rob as one of my heros since I first started reading him. He's always been so honest, straight-forward, raw... heroic in his struggles to understand, to survive, to be heard. I called him that, yet again, the other night, talking to Paul on the phone.Then, I called him that to his ear. (Wish it was to his face, but it was by phone... *grin*)
He said (and I quote), "I ain't no hero..." To which I quickly replied, "Oh, I don't know about that. I just used that very word to Paul, not an hour ago..." He is one to me.
Always has been.
Always will be. We're enough alike, have so many attitudes, opinions and ideas of justice that are the same, that I can't not love him.
Yet, he's light-years ahead of me, though only 11 years older, in having this "life shit" figured out. I learn so much from Rob... so much. He shows me things inside of myself that I thought had been lost, burned up, used up and fucked to death years ago. He taught me how to channel most, if not always all, of my boundless rage at the injustice of life itself into something halfway constructive.... Crossfire. He showed me that it's okay to be furious and to say so in no uncertain terms. He showed me what having a cast-iron ass is really all about. He also showed me it's okay to have a heart that feels... to love, to trust and to even sometimes need the most unpredictable, unstable, vicious lot of all... people. He shows me time and again that some of them are worth the risk and a select few are worth just ANYTHING to be a part of them. Finding Rob Smith truly was one of the top two best things that has ever happened to my life, Eric finding me being the other one... The impact the man has had and continues to have on my life is incredible and I'm more grateful for it than I can articulate. He's an amazing human being and I'm glad he's a part of my life.
Posted by: Stevie at 03:57 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 15, 2005
Okay, now I'm really back...
I've got a spice cake in the oven.
Cream cheese frosting on the counter, waitin'.
And The Sound of Music on the TV.
Can't have everything.
The attic's already full. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 02:14 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 14, 2005
Whoo-hoo Bay-bee...
It worked.
Giving myself hell earlier worked.The house is currently at 95% homeostasis. It was either that (giving myself hell) or the fact that George was enroute. Either way, it looks GOOD in here now. And, I got a shower, washed my hair, shaved my legs and now, I'mina sit here and watch TV, guilt-free, including The Sound of Music, whilst I finish the wash.
And, run my hands over my legs, marvelling at the smoothness and playin' wit' my hair, which is also silky and great smelling. So, basically, I'll be here, watching TV, fondling various non-erotic body parts while I do laundry. Christ, I'm weird. Peace y'all....
(And some extra love on Georgia Rob, just because.)
Posted by: Stevie at 11:20 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Yo, Lazyass...
What say we git off our ass today and GET SOMETHING CONSTRUCTIVE DONE?
Ya been here long enough now to have this place "done", yet... ya don't have this place anywhere CLOSE to "done".What's with the Matterhorn of clothes in the bathroom? Ya gonna WASH the fuckin' things, or are they destined to be some kinda "new age" friggin' CATBOX, 'cause ya KNOW they're gonna do that if'n ya don't git that shit washed and OFFA THE FLOOR!!!!! And... the dishes? Granted, the sink is kinda awkward and it sorta sucks that the dishwasher doesn't work, but... must the "manual" dishwasher not work too? What're ya? On a "sympathy strike", or somethin'? Ya bought the damned dish-drainer tray-thingy, so USE IT, YA NUMBNUTS!!!! WASH THE DAMNED DISHES, ALREADY!! And, yes... it IS nice that alla yer shit's unpacked, but MUST it be sittin' around on shit at random? Wouldn't it be muchos betters to have it WHERE IT FUCKIN' BELONGS?!?!? Or, are ya maybe planning to store potato chips on the window sill forever and leave the pictures in a pile in front of the fireplace and have shit sittin' ever'where for the rest of yer life?
And, no, it would NOT be easier..... Here's the deal....
Whatcha need to do is simple. Go shit, that's fine. BUT, while yer doin' that, get stoned. Kinda kill two birds with one... stone? Well, whatever. Get yer mind tuned. While yer up there, switch some wash around, how hard is that, fer fuck sake? Then, bring yer lazy ass back down here, find The Wall, insert CD, crank volume and just START. Ain't gonna get done lest ya START, right? No matter whatcha do or where ya go, do NOT leave or enter a room without something that belongs there or somewhere else. Put the shit AT LEAST in the room it goes in. Wash the damned dishes and PUT 'EM AWAY THIS TIME!!!! Then, after ya get the majority of that shit done, start in with the detail shit. Stick the pictures near where yer gonna hang 'em. Figure out the logistics of where the rest of the wall shit needs to be. Either put up the stupid (Christmas) lights, like you've been "gonna" for the last year or put 'em in the attic, just get the stupid basket offa the floor and outta the way. Same for those clusters of fake leaves. Use 'em or "lose" 'em.... You KNOW you can't stand living like this, so why are ya?
(I have no idea....) Bathroom, weed/The Wall, CLEAN. Simple.
Now.... GIT 'ER DONE!!!!!
(*siiigh* Pray for me, people. I seem to need all the he'p I kin git with this...)
Posted by: Stevie at 09:56 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 11, 2005
Well hell, I'd like to do that a'gin...
It's not often that ya do something that you've never done before and before you've even finished doing it for the first time, ya know ya wanna do it again.
But, I did earlier.
And, it was awesome...
Soon. He's got the most comfortable, "I'm home", voice and manner. I felt like it wasn't the first time. It was like... like... it's hard to put into words. Adjectives, I've got.... coherent sentences, not s'much.
Adjectives include (but are not limited to): Wonderful
Enlightening
Fun
Comforting
Right (as in: to do. Wish I'd have listened to Cat and done it months ago but every time I was about to, Rob would throw up a post about nitwits and cell phones and how aggravating they are and I'd say to myself, "Well, I'm a nitwit and this is a cellphone", and put my phone down and back slowly away from it... *giggle*) It was a blast. I'm gonna do it again.
Next time, though, I hope to GAWD I've got better jokes than those two lame-assed ones I laid on him earlier (she says, cringing).
Not my best ones, by far, but hell man, I was TALKIN' TO ROB, fer Chris'sakes.
I swear to God, it felt like I was calling a famous person, a celebrity, like Sam Elliot or Bret Hart or somebody.
Except... unlike any of those guys would probably do, he didn't blow me off, hang up or any of that. Hell, he even let me make him miss the first hour of his football game. Now, how sweet was that? Wanna know the best thing about it all?
Finding out that I've been right all along about him.
That, and being able to say outright, right into his ear, that I love him and I do (whether he believes it or not) owe him my life and whatever sanity I've got at this point. Coolest phone call I've ever made.
Think Cat's next. Peace, y'all...
Posted by: Stevie at 04:09 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 09, 2005
I'm still not done yet, damn it...
Course, it probably woulda gone faster had I made any real effort in the last week and a half.
I think I was more worn out than I even realized. Mostly what I've been doing is farting around with boxes, watching lotsa TV and sittin' on my ass, unmotivating myself by thinking about all that's left to do.Which keeps how much is left to do at a constant level, thereby being on my mind, thereby wearin' me out before I even start and so on. I have, however, actually been making some real progress here the last coupla days. Right now, I'm taking a break while Riviera Paradise plays (it just ended) and smoking a cigarette.
(Oooh... Stevie's talkin' now, about learning to play guitar... he also tells a story about falling into a grease barrel...) I can't remember what I said last time, it's been so freakin' long, but in case I didn't mention it, the waterbed heater died last week. We were finally able to get a new one Friday night. It's warming the bed as I type (and Eric sleeps in it). As far as this house, I've got our bedroom kinda done- still need to hang all the shit on the walls (actually, I still hafta hang all the shit on all the walls)- the kitchen is coming together, the "spare" bedroom is clean, the bedroom outside of ours is clean, the livingroom is getting there and the diningroom is still a mess, but it is getting smaller... the mess, not the diningroom. I swear, for every thing I get done, I think of 72 other related things that I hafta do "someday". (heh... just caught myself whipping my ponytail around my head in circles in time to "Let me Love You, Baby"...)
(I am officially losin' it...) Ah well, before I stiffen up, fall asleep or find some other way to justify not continuing on this quest to have a home (as opposed to ending up in one), I'mina go back to work. Oh and hey... one serious question... What is killing Rob?
Since I started working last November, I've not been able to be glued to this pooter like I was before and I seem to have missed something very important.
I mean, hell, I know he's not been feeling well very often for quite a while, but he's come right out and said he's dying, which is really fuckin' me up badly and I want to know what it is that's trying to take him down. What is it that's trying to rob me of one of my most important people... a man who saved me and wasn't even trying to? What, whose, which's ass do I need to beat to save him and don't even bother saying his, because I already know better than to try that tactic? If it wasn't for Rob.... Jeezus... there are so many endings for that sentence. I can boil it down to if it weren't for Rob, I very well may not be here right now, alive and mostly sane (shaddap). He was my first handhold out, my first distant lantern light to follow, out of the darkness I called "normal", lo those many, many months ago (like three years). If not for him, I'd not know blogging, Paul, Mikey or anybody else, I'd not have had the balls to finally get it in gear, not had the strength to simply stand and take life's shit again, like I did before I got all beat down by life, love and the lack thereof of both when I was younger. I love him.
I really do.
And, having this worry-rat in my head, about him being in the process of dying, is almost more than I can deal with. What is it?
What's doing this? This may sound strange, but it's almost like knowing ahead of time that Storm is gonna die all over again, but again, not how or when, Rob means that much to me.
Imagine if I ever got to meet the man...
I pretty much can't.
That blows my mind about as much as this issue does. So, someone, please.... if ya know, let me know, okay? I just care and I don't feel it's right to ask him himself. I wouldn't even know how to ask him and I sure as hell couldn't do it by e-mail or even by phone without crying all over him, which I'm sure he needs... *rolls teary eyes* Anyway... Shit man... Stevie's talking again. During "Life Without You", of all songs. He's talking about dying and realizing love before that happens to ya, and he's killing me with this as I ask about Rob. Know what I wish I could do? Go to Georgia. Take all my SRV CD's. Meet Rob. Hug the shit outta Rob. Hang with him, take as much care of him as he'd let me and just let him see and know who it was he saved and return as much of that gift as I can.
Just love the guy. And, before any snarky bitches start anything, I'm not talking about sexually. Fuck sex. Sex would cheapen what I feel for Rob. It's beyond mere, base sex. Rob is on a very special, very SHORT list in my heart of people (try "men") whom I love tremendously, would literally kill for, will love forever and have never bumped uglies with. Andy Harris is another one. Dad's on there, too. And my Uncle Henry. Coupla others, maybe. Two of those guys I've lost already, years ago. Still, say one thing in front of me that I don't like about one of 'em and you'll truly regret it for a really long time. Rob is one of my "forever" guys.
It's not about sex.
It's about LOVE. And, it's about time I shut up and get back to work. Hey Cat... next time you see him, can you give him a hug from me? A kiss on the side of his cute lil bearded face too, if he'll letcha and ya wanna... *grin*
(If ya wanna FOR ME, I mean. If ya just wanna, that's a whole nother thang AND best left to y'all, I think... *giggle*) Peace, people....
Posted by: Stevie at 07:25 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 29, 2005
I'm in love all over again...
With Earl.
He's just too cool, too cute, too sweet... daaaamn.
Posted by: Stevie at 11:37 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
It's coming along...
Slowly, but well.
Both of which are because some shit needed to be all but rebuilt after the move. This included (but may not be limited to, we'll see) the coffee table leg and the whole structures of both the entertainment center and this computer table, which, by the way, could still use a little support. Meantime, boxes are getting emptied, places for shit are being found and things are "progressing". And, my stomach kinda hurts. 'Course, I am exhausted still, I haven't had any of my tea for days and I'm almost scared spitless due to money, or more specifically, the lack thereof.Or, the possible lack thereof, I guess I oughta say. I have (way) less than $100 bucks right now and I have no idea where in the pay period Eric has landed. All I know so far is that it's every two weeks. Lord, I hope it's halfway over.... I have got to find a job.
But, first, I have to have a house to get ready in, where I know where alla my shit is and shit. This is the only problem we have, but, boy is it potentially a big one. He needs to remember to ask about this later today (assuming it's after midnight). Then, depending on what the answer is, I do have one idea.
(For the first time, I'm actually kinda glad George is so far away. It'll keep him from brain-dusting me for this idea of mine... *grin*) I'm worried about this, but I also feel like, somehow, it's gonna be fine. Meanwhile, I must say... after years of drinking tea made with Sweet-n-Low, tea made with sugar tastes like shit.
I have GOT to find my tea jug.
Like RIGHT NOW... brb *quite a few minutes later* Okay, we in bid-ness now, man.
Got tea brewing and even threw some fries into the oven.
Also found the right wattage bulb for my light in the bedroom.
And, during the search for the tea jug, I also located my hair dryer, thank CHRIST, the shower head, again thank Christ Himself and checked in with Murphy. He's fine. I'm starting to feel better, too. Knowing I have tea on the way allowed me to relax enough to realize that I'm kinda hungry and under that, beat. I've been wanting to go to bed, but my stomach was bothering me too much. Now, it's hungry, which is much better. That, I can solve with fries.
I even know where my salt shaker is, unlike certain other stoned individuals(mrbuffett).
Ketchup, too, for that matter. Oh and guess what else?
My stove is electric again, thank all that is holy.
I hate gas stoves.
Can't ever get the fuckin' flame the right height to cook shit without scorching it and when we got the first gas stove, neither of us had used one before. We thought the two words on the knobs, "LIGHT" and "HIGH" meant the size of the flames.
Took us forEVER to realize they were to light the damned thing and the highest flame setting. I figured it out by accident the first time we got one lit and went to shut it off. We both looked at the receding flame, then each other and went "Oooohhhh..."
"That's how it works..."
Then we both almost pissed ourselves laughing at our own stupid selves... light and high.
Jeezus. Anyhoo...
Gonna go check the fries and finish making the tea.
Then, after I kill my munchies, I'm goin' to bed in the waterbed, thank Eric and I do. Back later. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 01:21 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 28, 2005
Aw, hang on another second... I need a cuppa coffee before I start this...
Y'all might oughta go get some, too.
And, go pee, grab some smokes, whatever....
That's better. Well, we're here.
We're ALL here, too. The horses, dogs, rabbit*, roosters, parrot, keets, cats.... we all (almost) made it. The two exceptions are Hugh, my white bunny, whom died the day before the move and Bigfuzz, a cat who could NOT stay where the hell I put him (in the cellar with everybody else) til I got back here. He got out and got his stupid ass killed in the road, about a quarter of a mile away.
Dumbass cat. We've been here all of two days, so far. And, by "we", I mean me and Eric, with no extras.
During the move, we had two extras at all times. A chick named BJ, who is a post unto herself and Tiger, because EVERYBODY oughta have a fuckin' kid involved in a multiple-hundred-miles move, RIGHT? The house is, of course, still fucked.
Boxes everywhere.
Worst part is, there were up to 5 people slinging shit in boxes by the end and I have no idea where anything even is.
All I know is that everything I own is here "somewhere".
*rolls eyes* oooh.. guess what?
The coolest thing happened on Sunday.... The DirecTv guy came 24 hours early.
Instead of on Monday, he showed up Sunday and I've been soaking up TV like a friggin' sponge.
REAL TV, not taped Nick at Nite... 'Course, N@N is what's on now, but it's "live"....
(Just saw the episode of "Roseanne" where Dan punches out Fisher for hitting Jackie...) Ya know what else?
I think having gotten the cats transported up here is gonna have been easier than putting this house together is gonna be.... Wanna know how I did that, by the way? Wawa milk crates.
Lotsa Wawa milk crates.
From the Red Lion, even. I was sitting in the old house one of our last nights there, staring at a milk crate, thinking.
Suddenly, it occured to me, they'd be purr-fect for "caging" the cats in the capped back of a pickup, which we just happened to have.
So, I asked the Wawa-guy who delivers to the restaurant if I could borrow a buncha crates and he said not only could I borrow them, I could KEEP them as far as he was concerned...
*grin* So, I did.
I brought home a stuffed carload of them and we stuck one cat under each one upside down (the crates, not the cats upside down) and put flattened boxes between each layer.
Then, we stuck in the rooster and rabbit cages and some other shit to shore 'em up and away we went. Everybody came out just fine.
No one is traumatised, no one is still pissed at me for it, everybody seems to like being here.
I just wish Bigfuzz woulda stayed put, the jerk. So, to recap my enda shit... my "kids" are great and the house is FUBAR for now. Now, about Eric's enda shit... This farmer could not possibly be more opposite what Bill is if he tried.
This guy is PROACTIVE about his cows.
His cows are the most important things, as it should be, yet rarely ever is.
Eric has worked two days so far and Larry gave him tomorrow off to set shit up in here with me without being asked.
He's also letting us use/have a beautiful dresser. Beyond cool, because that's about the only thing we needed. I've already got a coupla leads on "cool restaurants" to check out once I ever get this goddamned house straight.
Found "the grocery store", too.
Also found a Mickey D's, a Walmart, a CVS and a buncha other cool places like that, all less than about 5 miles from here. I've also actually gotten some sleep, too.
Not a lot and not really good, but sleep is sleep.
I just want my waterbed back some damned day.
Camping out on the livingroom floor is fun til ya HAVE TO.
*lol* And, do it not just figure that the first thing I got set back up like it usedta be is the computer desk-n-shit.
'Course, I had to call Paul, then kick the thing on the floor before I could connect, but that's par for the course with me and this machine.
I called Paul because it kept giving me shit, then I got pissed and kicked that thing, then it worked great. Other than that... not much goin' on.
We're both doin' good and both of us feel different than we did last week.
Relieved, relaxed, at peace....
Ways we could never truly feel at Winding Brook, for various and sundry reasons. Thank you God, for alla this.
I hope we make Ya proud here.
I also hope Ya make me the Mom to an Appaloosa again someday.
Someday soon.
(Altho, Brandy has been eating her head off and is picking up weight and starting to at least look good again...)
Meantime, thanks again, Big Guy and I'm outta here... Peace, y'all.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:02 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 20, 2005
Well, I made it....
I got from one end to the other of my job without quitting, being fired, beating that cook's ass or him beating mine.
I also got to have as my last two customers exactly the people I was hoping for... Frank and Nancy, an old couple I just fell in love with a few months ago, who are two of my "regulars"... or were. I named my new pair of 'keets after them, I like 'em so much.Frank had a stroke the same day Storm died. I didn't see him or Nancy for about 5 or 6 weeks and nobody knew if he was even alive for a while.
Then, they came back and I nearly did cartwheels to their table that day.
Then, when they heard I was leaving, Frank made me a hooked rug. It's got two cats on it, sitting inside a full moon, with their backs to you. I also got a few cards and many tears from several other people, including another one of the line cooks, Baldwin... he's "the toast guy".
And, Terrorist Cooks name is really Tommy.
He IS nuckin' futz, too.
100%. I'm going back there on Thursday to get paid and see George and Gus, the two brothers I love so much, one more time.
The third brother, the one who I think thinks I'm nuts... I worked with him today and I got a hug from him, too...
I was pleasantly VERY surprised by that.... I was also pleasantly SHOCKED by Nextel. They're giving me service of my own. Without a "first born child"-type deposit, even.
Amazing. Also, I got the landline shit done for the new place.
Can you believe they don't have friggin' Verizon out there? Adams County is Sprint territory.
Sprint is also merging with Nextel, not that that's doing me any good yet, but still... Got the Earthlink switched, then, today, I find out I can get it thru Sprint, so I did... cheaper, too. Got the DirecTV done, too. They'll be there Monday morning. And, the mail is done. Now... about the cats... ********************************** Have I mentioned lately that I'm tired?
Nay, exhausted....
That's not necessarily a bad thing, though.
Being this tired and spaced out is kinda making things easier, in that shit's not hitting me too overly hard right now because of it.
Only thing I'm wondering about is whether or not I'm gonna have a huge melt down sometime later.
Gawd, I hope not.
I hope I just get this shit done, get some sleep someday and am okay after that. One of the few things making me think I will be okay is the fact that I can take alla y'all with me.
Every time I start feeling like I'm moving to Mars or some damned place, I tell myself that Rob and Cat and Paul and Mikey and Maeve and Debbie and ever'body else will still be "here" with me, even when I'm "there".
That helps more than I can articulate. Bad enough I'm moving to a completely different broadcast area.
All my life I've been in the Philly broadcast area.
Now, I'mina have stangers tellin' me the news, strangers on the radio, and strangers grinning and giggling their way thru "snow as high as an elephant's ass" weather forecasts. I hate that part.
Not as much as I hate leaving the restaurant, but I do hate it. The restaurant, by the way, is called The Red Lion. It's in Horsham Pa., right across from the Willow Grove NAS. If yer ever in the area, do stop by and treat yourself to some of the best food anywhere at really great prices.
I'd say to tell 'em I sent ya, but they don't know "Stevie".
Had to be that way, too, or I'd not have been able to vent here about shit like I did.
Y'all know how that is, but still... go there. It's a great place to eat.
And work.
Even in spite of Tommy and his insane sister. She's the one who "can be kinda bitchy sometimes"...
Try 24/7 and for no reason.
Psycho broad. Anyway, I'm "screening" (cause I ain't paying attention much) The Farmer's Wife again. I need to start doing other stuff, though. Cleaning, packing, smoking-which I ain't done YET since I got home from work, amazingly enough. I also need to take a few "Pirin" tablets...
My head is startin' to stab at me. Darrell Buschkoetter's Dad is a bastard.
He treats Darrell like an idiot, which he is NOT.
Man, I hope he's still farming.
I know he and Juanita got divorced and she's remarried, but I don't know about HIM.
And, frankly, he's the attraction here, not her, not the dopey kids... him, Darrell.
If anybody has any clue how he is and whether or not he's still farming, I'd love to know.... Okay, then...
Off to.... do what?
I dunno.
Something de-constructive, I suppose....
I'll be doing the "constructive" part next week, when I'm putting everything back together. Unless, of course, I just collapse into a puddle of sleep on the floor when I stand up in a minute.
That could happen, too....
I feel like MONTH of the living dead....
And... it's only been two weeks. Gawd, help me. Peace, y'all....
Posted by: Stevie at 07:25 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 19, 2005
"Hi", she croaks...
I'm alive.
Barely...
Since last Thursday, when I got Vic legal, I've put about 1500 miles on him running back and forth to Gettysburg. And, by "last" Wednesday and Thursday, I do NOT mean five and four days ago. I mean the ones from the week before this past one. The horses are out there, as is about 70% of the shit around here.
70%?
Let me bump that down to about 55-60%.
Just about or over half, I think.
If what I'm doing in my head at this point can even be called thinking anymore... So far I've worked my last Thursday, Friday and Saturday (as both waitress and hostess).
My last Monday is tomorrow and it's also my last day with Sweetie, cause he's off Tuesdays, as is Terrorist Cook, whom, by the way, called me an idiot Friday and said he can't wait til I'm gone.
Whatever. He's one asshole. On the other hand, I've been getting cards, gifts and chunks of cash from customers and a fellow waitress. So, basically, TC can go bite himself. Anyway, my last day working with Sweetie is tomorrow and then Tuesday is my last day- period. This is the first time ever that I've left a job and not been the only one upset about it.
This is the first time my Bosses have ever gotten teary-eyed over me leaving.
This is also the first time me leaving hasn't been a "Fuck me? Noooo, fuck YOU" affair, too.
Prolly has a lot to do with it, huh? This way is harder, in case anybody is wondering. And, talk about not being able to believe something... Jeezus.
I was still trying to wrap my brain around being here, on this farm, with Eric and horses and all and here we go again.
UP IN THE MOUNTAINS EVEN!!! Everywhere ya look, you can see 'em in the distance. It's so quiet there, too...
Seven people live on our road.
There's no light pollution, either, so you can actually see stars.
See stars, hear tree critters chirping, smell grass and earth and cows.... It's pretty cool. Christ, I'm tired.
But, for once, tired in the way that a huge marathon of sleep WILL help. Wednesday.
I'm livin' for Wednesday right now and probably fuckin' myself by sayin' so, too. Wednesday is the first day I'll not have to be some damned place and I can sleep.
God willing... Knowing my luck, Bill will fire up that goddamned Hugh loader and just let it run two feet from the backa the house.
Just fer shits and giggles, ya understand.
And to piss me off one last time... *giggle* I don't think I'mina care much for Thursday, though.
That's the day I go back to the restaurant to get paid off and see Sweetie and his one brother for the last time in at least a while....
That's gonna be tough.
Hope I will be too, but, I doubt it.
I've cried more in there in the last week than I have over every dipshit boyfriend I ever had who hurt me.
Surprised I'm not all whizzled up and dehydrated like a piece of jerky by now as it is, let alone after that "meeting".... *sigh* Oh well.
Gotta go to bed soon. Right after I switch the wash 'round. Oh and by the way, getting a new batt'ry for a Nextel cell does do some good.
I got one yesterday morning, charged it about 24 hours and used it for close to 12 hours and only depleted it by one bar.
Muuuuch better. Got another new mouse, too.
Old one pissed me off Friday (after TC's horseshit, once again) and I punched it and, naturally, killed it.
This time, when I got the stupid mouse, I also got a stupid mouse pad and hopefully, that'll keep me from having to murder this one.
We shall see.
("Punched" it? Try "hammered it with my fist til it fell apart inside".
(And, nope. I didn't hurt my hand, either.) Anything else, brain?
.........................................
.........................................
(That's "thinking"...) Nope.
Nuttin I can come up with, soooo..... I'm outta here. I'll be back, though.
Half of my shit's still here.
*retarded grin* Peace, y'all...
Posted by: Stevie at 12:58 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 15, 2005
I don't know what to call it, but I know "normal" ain't it... cain't be...
Cat's got me thinking...
He left a comment with the word "normal" in it.
I also have no idea why my life can't be "normal", but it hasn't been either. Here are the "highlight" moments, and Gawd, do I hope I can keep this from turning into a novella.... *Born in 1963. That was the first problem, by the way.... *My mother was el-nutso. She married my Dad to get away from her Dad and wound up pregnant a month after they got married, not even knowing how babies came out. She was 18. She was not a good mother.
I've since witnessed a good mother, albeit from a million miles away, but I can still see the multudinous differences. *Life explodes for the first time at age nine, (although I do remember things from when I was much younger than that, good and bad things). That was when my mother hollered my name one day and I said, "Yeah, I know. Either in my room or outside. I'm goin' outside..." "No", she says, "come here." I go there, to where she and Dad are, in the livingroom.
"Your father and I are getting a divorce", she states.
I went to Dad and stayed there every day of my life since.
Later that same night, as I was leaving to go up the lane to my friends house to sleep over, I waved to Dad as I was leaving. He started to wave back and instead clutched his chest and fell off the chair he was sitting on while he spoke on the phone to mom's goddamned boyfriend. Started having convulsions and all.
I freaked.
Went to the upstairs apartment and got my Aunt Carol and (at the time) Uncle Pat and Carol took me back upstairs and Pat called the 'bolance and I watched it take Dad away, down the road and around the bend, for what still seems like years.
Next, my mom showed up outside of one of my classrooms a few weeks later and her and Dad wound up back together and stayed together til I was in high school and my stupid mom moved to Florida with one of my boyfriends. *Moved into a new house after that with Dad and mom and got my first horse. Got into showing and hanging at Uncle Henry's farm up the road. Horses saved me and kept me going til I found Trans Ams, for which I owe Burt Reynolds at least a hug... *First smoked weed at 14, just for shits and giggles. Didn't turn into a career til high school and alla that shit... *Lost my virginity in the summer of '79. By the end of spring in '82, Mike was dead. He's the one who... then he died. The oddest thing about the whole thing is that he told me he was gonna die one night, after he saw three shooting stars in a row.
I missed the first one, so I only caught two of them.
He was right. *Then, Walt got killed. One of the best friends I ever had, after we quit trying to date each other... *grin* I still love him, that sweet little dude... Drunk driving accident. He was in the passenger seat. The car impacted with the tree on the passenger side and ended up looking like the letter K. A Trans Am, too...
Sold my Trans Am and lost my mind while my life blew up a few more times... *Got my heart broken badly for the first time by my now "brother-in-law". Found out years later that he, too, fucked my mother. So, I married his brother? Ookay... (George is as cool as Bruce is a shithead, believe me...) *Note: This isn't in perfect chronological order, by the way. Some of this shit happened concurrently and some of it overlapped and besides, I've spent the last 20+ years smokin' my brains out trying to get beyond alla this shit, ya know? Anyway.... *Mom moves to Florida with the next guy, Jimmy. Stayed there six months with him. Thanksgiving Day, she calls her Mom's house and me and Dad were there. I had been at my high school football game smokin' some doobage and was stoned when I talked to her. That might explain why I got off the phone with her, turned to Dad and said, "She needs to come back here or she's gonna die..." She sounded like shit. Dad helped her get home, too. That's how fuckin' awesome he is. *So quickly in the space of a coupla months that trying to remember it is giving my brain wind-burn, I ended up living in "our" house with Mom and a getting-divorced friend of hers, another Carol, and Dad had met Kim and was pretty much living with her.
She's four years older than me.
Has been all along.... (*giggle* whatever that means, but I know it has something to do with it all...)
Then, bada bing, it's me and Dad, Kim and a BABY(!) in "our" house and mom has her own apartment, which I ran to screaming after living with Kim and the BABY(!) for a while.
I'm sure it was thrill-a-minute for her, too.
*rolls eyes*
Neither of us was mature enough to share Dad and I lost and ended up lost for years, partly because of that and partly because I'm a hard-headed fuck who (allegedly) takes shit too personally. (I say "allegedly", because I'm still working my way around that one...) *Left the house for good, after having enough of mom in about a nano-second and going back to Dad's, by getting married... the first time.
Great guy, really nice, gentle, sweetheart... grew up with him. Me, my cousin Jim and Charlie used to be like the Three Musketeers. Then, I married Charlie.
*siiigh*
It was like being married to my brother, which, coincidentally enough, can also be said of being married to George, kinda. I feel like he's more like my big brother than anything else...
Married in '84, seperated in '85, divorced in '86 and still friends. In fact, he 's on wife #3 or 4, I forget which and after #2, I told him I was starting a "Charlie's Ex-wives Club"... *grin* *Divorced, living with mom and her new husband who, incidentally was NOT one of my exes-surprise, surprise- had a coupla cool boyfriends during that time. One was a bouncer. A bouncer with the soul of a poet... *Finally got my own apartment April 1st, 1990. Mom died 27 days later, three days before my birthday. Turned 27 planting her. *Uncle Henry died. That nearly killed me, losing him. From the time I was a freshman in high school, until I graduated, I knew almost 70 people who died in various ways... gunshot, disease, car accident, suicide, accidental hanging... that one was another ex-boyfriend, Mark. He was arguing with his then-current chick and wanted to scare her, so he pretended to hang himself and fucked up and actually DID hang himself. In a tree. In his own front yard.
He was also a sweetheart.
Anyway.... *Was living with another Mark, in my apartment, when mom died. Shortly after that, I again lost my mind and flew to Missouri to go see this trucker I was in love with, David Hawkins.
He was such a doll... at first. Then, he started shooting speedballs and hanging out the door of the Pete, puking and by the time I got to Missouri, he was into heroin. I knew being there was a mistake and was scared I was gonna get myself killed by his way older girlfriend and got the fuck outta there as soon as I could.
I don't know if he's dead or alive, although I suspect he's gone.
Broke up with Mark for good not long after. *Had been a police dispatcher for about 6 or 7 years, between two departments.
Left the PD to go to work for the county at the 911 center. Was in love then with a biker/nutjob/Comm. Chief at the center whom I still also love to pieces, named Jack. He was almost as much older than me as Dad is Kim. He's the one I rode behind on the Harley. He's also the one that got me my nickname of "Drag Queen", by dragging me a bit off the back the bike that time... Not his fault. I have told the story before, so in the interest of time (and your eyeballs), I won't repeat it now... *For some insane fucking reason, I moved out of my apartment and in with Ernie, a cross-addicted dipshit, after quitting the 911 center. He did coke and alcohol in prodigous amounts. He also tried to use his hands on me ONCE and my Dad came by and told him, "I'm not here to tell you not to try to hit her. I'm here to tell you that the next time you raise your hand, I'm going to tell her to go for it and you WILL be sorry..." or something to that effect. All I know is Ernie cooled the hell out and I GOT out... *Oops, shit. Forgot Tony. I lived with him in my apartment between Mark and moving out. He was the first guy I dated who had a kid. He pretty much fucked my mind about kids forever by telling me that I'd never mean as much to him as his kid did. He's also the last person I got to drop acid with. Ain't nuttin' like giggling for 12 hours straight at a Beavis and Butthead marathon. Except maybe trippin' on rides at a carnival... Man, I'd like to do that one more time before I grow up too much... (Trippin', I mean, not carnival rides.)
Also, you haven't really heard Pink Floyd til you've heard it CRANKED all the way up, when yer trippin'.
It's very nearly a religious experience.... *After Ernie, came George. I remember I was driving around aimlessly in my Ford pickup. Came to a crossroad and turned toward George's mother's house. Got there, nobody home. While I was leaving a note, Pop came home and told me where she was, so I went there, up in town. Asked her how George was doing and she told me turn around and ask him myself... There he was, too. Had dinner with them that night and George told me I could stay with him, rent free, if I helped with his kids and about three days later, we were "together", beyond any "help with the kids for rent" deals.
Got married because of real estate, mostly and seperated in 2000. *While with George, did the whole "wellacrest" thing, which is so detailed here, I ain't gonna waste a minute even thinking about any of it, except the "left and stole Eric away with me" part.... *Got with Eric and moved away. *Am about to move even further away. *This makes the 13th fuckin' time I've moved in my life. Enough!!!!, already.... There's more... details, the archives here... it's almost endless.
It's almost a lotta things... almost funny, almost sad, almost sanity-defeating, almost a good sitcom or reality show.... it's almost a LOT of things. Except "normal", I think.
So...
What do YOU think, y'all?
What would you call it, besides "interesting" or "never boring"? I await, with bat-breath*, your replies...
(*"bat-breath": an utterly retarded play on "bated breath", just so's ya know.... I think this particular turn of phrase has something to do with a guy I called Uncle John and later, L.T. (as in Lieutenant, or however it's spelled) when he was my boss at one of the PD's. Anyway, wherever I got it, it makes me giggle...) Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 06:50 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 13, 2005
Temper, temper now, woman...
Yeah.
I've got a temper.
A bad one, sometimes, too.
Then, I felt bad.
NOW, I've gotta go to the stupid store (anyway) and get him some grapes and nanners, cuz that's why he forgave me.
I told him I'd get that stuff for him when I go to the store shortly. NOW, he's all happy and (fuckin') screechy again and I ain't sayin' a word.
Except for "temper" to myself. I'm exhausted, losing weight (someone said today) and all nerved/jazzed/bunged up over this move. God for-fuckin-BID some inanimate object, like a can opener, coffee pot, remote, phone, car, the Earth itself, pisses me off right about now. I'm of the "kill first, MAYBE take names later" frame of mind. Kinda like AnimalMother on crack.
On a bad hair day.
With cramps.
And a gun. *coupla minutes later* Okay.
That made even ME laugh...
Cute visual, huh? Thank Gawd for... "herbal refreshments".
And I don't mean tea. Anyway... sorry MURPHY.
Didn't mean to get as obnoxious as you were being. *fixed stare at bird* *lmao*
I just called "Murphy Turd" in the same goofy voice I usually say "Murphy Bird" and he started dancing after the second time...
Nitwit...
(Again... both of us.) Okay.
Off to the store, then back here, to clean (I hope) and do something else I can feel, but not name....
I don't know what, exactly, but I feel the need to do SOMETHING.
Besides kill, I mean... I'll letcha know aht when I find out. Meanwhile... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 09:05 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 11, 2005
Posted by: Stevie at 07:13 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 09, 2005
Well, we movin' on uu-up...
To de top.
To a dee-lux dai-ry in Get-tys-burg.
Mo-oo-vin' on up.
To de top.
We finally get a de-cent try-yy-yy-yy-yy-yy.
You probably did, in fact, get the point.
(And, no, it's not that "I watch too much television"...)
We really are moving in two weeks. To Gettysburg.
It's about 140 miles from here. Lotsa famous battlefields-n-shit.
Haunted battlefields, mind you. Anyway, there's this cow hoof trimmer dude who usedta be related to the lying sack of monkey shit by marriage. He's not related to him anymore. Still, I guess they talk, because this hoof trimmer dude knew enough about Eric and the quality of work he does, plus the hoof trimmer dude used to work here so he knows what Eric is dealing with, and he told this farmer in Gettysburg who needed a herdsman about Eric and gave phone numbers back and forth and they talked and we drove there last night IN VIC!!!! and met the guy and saw the three-story old farmhouse and the operation by the lights of the farmer's pickup and he liked us, we like him and here we go. *pant, pant, gasp* That was all in one breath, ya know.... *snerk* Anyway...
The pay is twice what it is here, there are health benefits after six months, the house and electricity are "free", the farmhouse we're going to be in is right there, on the farm. There are about 100 calves right out the back door in their rows of hutches. The backyard is small, but fenced. The guy knows (pretty much, though no exact numbers) about my zoo and is fine with it and the horses. And, the rabbits, roosters, 'keets, parrot, duck and every other mouse and spider, grasshopper, etc. I can "rescue" before we go for the last time. When I first heard about alla this, I wasn't much impressed. I asked, "Do they have a "name of my restaurant" out there?" and kept walking (I had to pee). Then, after I ate superfluous, unnecessary shit from that one chick (the one who can get kinda mean sometimes) for four consecutive, endless days when I happened to be in her presence just for being in her presence, then found out for sure the lying sack of monkey shit was lying again to me about horses, I looked at Eric and said, "Ya know what? Fuck this, man. You wanna call that guy back? Do it. I am SICK of this shit." So, he did. *grin* (I've got to clean out Donny's cage, then try to get some sleep before I hafta go to work tonight, so I'm trying to hurry this along....) I knew this was gonna happen as soon as I told Eric to go ahead and call. Just like I knew it when we were coming here, I knew it that we're going there. Then, when I was in the cow barn last night and looked down the rows and smelled that beautiful, earthy, "I'm home" smell of the cows, feed and shit, I really knew. That was before we even saw the inside of the house. Three bedrooms, three floors, a bathroom we can hold a square dance in, big kitchen, a summer kitchen attached but unused... it's pretty cool. I didn't go all the way to the third floor last night, but you can bet I will.
And, I'm gonna bet that the stairs up there are curved. I'm seeing a new computer room.
*big grin* And yes, we went in Vic and he's great. Eric washed and waxed him while I was at work and went I got off (early), I went and got him legal. He's got his own tags and insurance, so the 'Bird is still good to go til the end of the month and I'd like to believe we'll be pretty much done with this "moving" crap by then. Have I ever mentioned the depths to which I detest moving, by the way? *disgusted sigh* I think I'd rather have concurrent gyno and dental appointments. Fuck, man... Are there really enough boxes in all the world for alla this crap we have?
And, wouldja just think for nano-second of the logisitcs involved in taking 7,843 cats 140 miles? Not to mention the rabbits, roosters, et al. Dear God,
Please give me strength.
Thanks,
me So anyway...
The part about having to leave the restaurant, my Boss, his brother and several of my regulars sucks balls, but I don't wanna think about that right now. It makes me fuckin' cry.... I need to go re-straw Donnie's cage and go lay down. I feel like I'm "comfortably numb" personified.
So tired I don't know from shit, ya know? Little stiff from sitting here, little lethargic, but otherwise fine.
So far. heh I can hardly believe we're doing this, but... we are.
I can hardly believe I've switched cars so suddenly (and talk about an "acid test"... Man. First time I ever drive that car more than 3 miles and I drive it nearly three HUNDRED), but I have.
I can hardly believe I'm not gonna be working at the restaurant anymore, but, like one of my regulars said today, "It's a hell of a commute for lunch", as if he and those other two guys are gonna come to Gettysburg with me... *giggle* Oh, and that's another thing...
I may very well wind up working for this farmer too.
His eyes lit right up when he heard that I can do most of this shit myself. 'Course, there's also a "breakfast" place right down the road that looks like a place to look into, too. We'll see.
One thing at a time. And, first, right now, is Donny, damn it.
Not more typing. Suppose that means I oughta wrap this up, then, huh?
(Yeah. That'd be a idea, dipshit...) Movin' to Gettysburg.
My Gawd. Peace, y'all...
Posted by: Stevie at 06:34 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 07, 2005
Oookay...
I love the first result.
That one makes sense, but I don't know who Barbara Stanwyck is.
All I know is that she's not on Rob's list of actresses he'd do, damn it.
You scored 59% Tough, 14% Roguish, 19% Friendly, and 9% Charming!
You, my friend, are a man's man, the original true grit, one tough
talking, swaggering son of a bitch. You're not a bad guy, on the
contrary, you're the ultimate good guy, but you're one tough character,
rough and tumble, ready for anything. You call the shots and go your
own way, and if some screwy dame is willing to accept your terms,
that's just fine by you. Otherwise, you'll just hit the open trail and
stay true to yourself. You stand up for what you believe and can handle
any situation, usually by rushing into the thick of the action. You're
not polished and you're not overly warm, but you're a straight shooter
and a real stand up guy. Co-stars include Lauren Bacall and Maureen
O'Hara, tough broads who can take care of themselves.
You scored 40% grit, 19% wit, 42% flair, and 11% class!
You're a tough dame, a bit of a spitfire, and you can even be a little
dangerous, but you do it with such flair that almost all is forgiven
(and even when it's not, you're still the most interesting woman in the
room). You can be witty and charming, all right, but you have a tough
streak that keeps you focused and sometimes deadly. You've had quite a
climb to get where you are, but you're a hard worker and you mostly
deserve all you get...and then some. You might end up destroying
everything around you, but you must admit...you've got style. Your
leading men include Henry Fonda, Fred MacMurray, and when you forget
yourself, Gary Cooper.
As far as Ms. Stanwyck... I was kinda hoping for Joan Crawford, but, whatever...
as long as I'm not a Bette Davis-type, it's all good.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:12 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 06, 2005
Oh, perfect....
I come home from a 10, no... an 11 hour shift, go completely postal when I find out I'm being lied to yet again, puke it all over Xfire, then toddle off to Gut Rumbles.
And, what do I find when I get there?
He linked me. Make no mistake, I love Rob soooo much for doing that, it's just that I wish I had known...
I mean, I'd still be pissed about the horse shit (not manure, the horse "shit" I'm being put through for reasons known only to Jon (the lying sack of monkey shit) and Satan), but maybe I'd have tempered it a bit. That way, the people who come via Rob won't think he's some kinda nut for linking me because of me.
Know what I mean? Besides, I shoulda just went there first, like I do every other got-damned day.
Then, I'd have seen the link and that one comment and felt better BEFORE I posted.
Then, I'd have a halfway decent post for people to see. I just hope everybody who comes by has been here before, or reads some of the archives, maybe.
That post down there is gonna make one HELL of a first impression, otherwise. Ah, well.
Fuck it.
That's how this shit is supposed to work anyway, ain't it? Ya blow chunks all over yer own place, then go to someone else's and start to get past whatever is trying to kill you.
Right?
Gawd, I hope so... Plus, after I got done over there (at GR), I started googling Jon's name, along with "lying sack of monkey shit", at one point.
Got nothing back with that, but "lying sack of monkey shit" alone came back with a buncha links, not the least of which is one that tells me that phrase is from "The Breakfast Club", one of my favorite movies.
Cool.
I did not know that.
I think that's because it's one of Emilio Estavez's lines to Judd Nelson, most of which I'm jeering at Emilio's character all through, so it doesn't surprise me I haven't heard him say it.
It also doesn't surprise me that NOW I wanna watch it again. Although.... "Full Metal Jacket" is somewhat more in tune with my mind right now. I'm thinking of that scene in the head with Pyle and when the guys take out that sniper....
Man, I'd consign my soul to Hell to be able to be Animal Mother for a few days... Yeah, Bay-bee....
Now that thought brings a smile, a biiiig smile, to my lips. Fuck me?
No.
Fuck YOU... *blam*
(That was the rocket launcher I'd have traded my machine gun for. I'd be aiming that thing straight up a few people's asses right about now....) Okay.
Time to go burn some doobage.
And then some more.
Maybe a little Tequila Rose, too.... Ain't ate nuthin' all day.
Ought not take too much of that stuff to work, huh?
(Yeah, and it probably wouldn't take much to make me puke right about now, either, so I t'ink I'll just stick wid da weed... safer that way and not just for me.) Meantime, I love ya, Rob.
Thank you again, man.
I owe ya bigtime.
You keep saving me from myself and don't even know you're doing it.
Just by being there.
Just by being who ya are. And, how fuckin' awesome is that?
Posted by: Stevie at 10:43 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Aw, fuck a title...
There IS no fuckin' "title" for how I feel right now.
I can, however, state a few FACTS about how I feel. Nauseous.Tired.
Permanantly heartbroken.
Pissed.
I no longer want a horse. I'm tired of being lied to, used and jerked around, so... fuck it. God fucked me outta Storm and left me hanging with nothing, except a lying sack of maggot-infested monkey shit to deal with, which I do not have the time, patience or inclination to handle anymore, so fuck you JON, fuck you horse-chick he allegedly knows, fuck your horses, fuck his lies, fuck everything and, of course, can't forget to FUCK ME. I am so filled with hate right this minute that it's leaking outta my eyes. God, I can't wait to be dead.
Nobody will ever make me believe it's not the only way to have real peace.
What it is, is the only way to not "have to" rely on people to actually help ya with ANYTHING.
Which, I can't really do anyway, sooooo.... You tell me what's left. *extended silence, broken only by chirping crickets* Yeah.
That's about what I thought. That's about what I've KNOWN since forever. Thanks a load, God.
Like you fuckin' even care... Just thanks. You finally did it, You bastard.
You broke me.
I give.
I quit.
You "won".
Happy? I'd rather spend eternity in Hell than be around You.
You're too cruel and utterly heartless.
You can't fire me.
I quit. C'mon, GOD.
Fuck me and fuck me hard.
Do it completely.
Quit fuckin' around about it.
KILL ME, YOU FUCK!!!!!! Have the balls to do it all at once.
This "by inches" shit is just PUSSY. All my life, people have been trying to turn me, trying to make me into some hardcase bitch, or just break me so they could watch, I guess, and that's fine. It's happened.
My heart has been dying every day since June 9th and, if You can't finish it, I will. All I want, the only goddamned thing I'm asking ANYBODY for is a horse to love, to turn to, to talk to, to ride, to be loved by...
And...
apparently, I'm not worth that.
Hell, I ain't worth SHIT. I've known it all along, anyway, so fine.
Fuck me and fuck You, too.
Posted by: Stevie at 09:48 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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