March 27, 2005
Happy Easter, ya'll...
Ya know.... I have a question about the Friday before Easter. I've been wondering this for years.
Why do we call it "Good" Friday?Good for WHOM, fer fuck sake? Not Jesus, that's for damned sure.
If I was Him, that'd piss me right off... "Good" Friday. How friggin' arrogant can we be? And, if it's supposed to be so "good" for me, that ain't working for me either, because when I think about what He was put through, it makes me feel like shit, because I ain't worth alla that and neither are about 99.999% of the people who were ever here, so... What's so "good" about it? A man was tortured to death.
That's not good.
Unless, of course, he's (small "h", regular "man") pissed ME off, then fine.
But, not Jesus.
That's just wrong.
Know what I mean? They oughta call "Easter" Good" Sunday, if ya ask me, which nobody did, but I don't care, I'm sayin' it anyhow.
I reeeeally don't think we oughta be celebrating the day of His murder at all. Then again, I am goofy.
(Yeah. It's ME that's twisted. Not the rest of the world. Riiiight.) Anyhoo, in other news...
My car is in a coma. Not "dead", but not running right now, either.
I don't care.
Rob (my Pa. Rob, not my Ga. Rob) knows what ails it and he's coming over later today to help Eric fix it. It's been running fine. No problems. I'm even running Premium gas in it. Went to work Friday, got done, went to Wal-Mart, got my shit, came out, turned the key and all it did was turn over... and over and over and over. It did start once. Ran for about 30 seconds, really bogged down. Didn't sound even remotely "right". I called Eric, then Rob and Rob showed up first, then Eric and Bill with the rollback. Rob got it started by sticking a screwdriver in something somewhere near the carb, but we still brought it home on the rollback, because once he removed the screwdriver, it stalled and said "Fuck y'all..." I didn't even freak out.
Eric's scared, now... lol. In fact, my period is and has been "pending" (i.e. "making itself known") for about a week, my car is comatose and the stupid TV is off because I forgot to pay the stupid bill, but... I'm not losing it. Hell, I'm even "fine". The house is still clean and I even made cookies again. Have a cake mix sittin' out, too. Debating between more baking and cleaning the carport while the cake bakes, or going to bed. Decisions, decisions... If I clean the carport, I can take the bunnies and (big-mouthed frickin') roosters back out there and bring the saddles back in here and have room in the mudroom again. If I go to bed, I have to do alla this shit tomorrow.
Plus laundry. Baking it is, then. Just did make a pot o'coffee and I do have plenty of that liquid meth known as Diet Mt. Dew....
Besides, having all my shit in one sock feels better than sleep in my head. Guess I ought go get started, huh? *siiigh* Yeahokay.... But, before I go, an Easter joke for y'all... Why does the Easter Bunny hide his eggs?
(Answer's in the EP...)
Posted by: Stevie at 02:17 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 26, 2005
Acidman is waaaay better lookin'...
Better, more interesting writer, too.
Than whom, you may ask? Glenn Reynolds, that's who.How do I know this, you may also be wondering? 'Cause, Glenn is in this month's issue of Reader's Digest.
*yawn* I am sooo not impressed.
May have something to do with the mercenary aspects of the article. Or it could just be because I have taste and, like I said...
Rob is waaaay better looking and a much more stimulating writer. More REAL. (Don't mind me... I have a REALLY hard time "respecting" somebody just because I'm supposed to just because everybody else does. People have to EARN that from me. As Rob has 40,000 times over, and like Reynolds could NEVER do because he's too "soft", too preppy and too BORING.) Reader's Digest... y'all missed the boat, the dock and the danged WATER with this one....
Posted by: Stevie at 10:54 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 25, 2005
Wow...
The house is clean.
No.I mean REALLY clean.
Better be.
When I finally went to bed last night, I'd only been awake for 38 or so hours AND hadda pull a shift at the restaurant, WHICH I thought I'd die during, by the way. I felt like shit.
Hell.
Death not quite "warmed" over...
ugh. Then, when I got offa work, I figgered I'd come home and pass out.
Nope. Just kept cleaning.
Glad I did, too.
NOW. Looks good, smells great and I don't feel like death anymore, either. Okay then... off to get a shower, wash the hair and the uniform pants, since I thought it was a good idea to take a walk around the (muddy-assed) yard when I got home yesterday, to see if I could tell where Daisy, the "gone" dog got out.
Not a clue.
No word from her yet, either.
(Course, I still have enough of THEM (her "words") echoing in my brain, that I'll probably hear her mouth the rest of my life, anyway...) I'll be fucked on the run if I have any idea where she's gotten off to. Frankly, my brain can't get past this one thing:
Norman disappeared about a month and a half or so ago, right?
Right. (damn it...)
Now, 6 weeks or so later, in less than a week, I have 10 new potential "Normans" around here. Eep. Now that this dopey dog has "moved", does this mean in about 6 weeks there's gonna be 10 new dogs around here?
Please, God... no.
*sobs* Just the thought... *gets hysterical* I love animals, but daaaamn...
Ya know? Ah well.
Thanks to my stupid mom dying a month after I moved outta her house, I spent the first year I was here convinced my Dad was gonna drop dead because I'd left the state.
And, here... he's hardly noticed... *giggle* Anyhoo... off to get ready fer work.
Need to forget last Friday and just remember... 7 hours, then two days off. 7 hours, then two days off. That is today's mantra. Tawk to yiz later.... Peace, y'all....
Posted by: Stevie at 06:57 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 24, 2005
A few new twists in my little life...
Gettin' shit clean.
That's good.
Not so good.
Daisy, the yappy fucknoodle is gone. Usually, she gets out with another mutt, named Jessie. The last time they got out, I went out there and sealed up the escape hatch.
I thought.
Jessie is (and the other two 'tards are) still out there, but Daisy?
Not a clue. Meanwhile, Chyna does have her kittens, all SIX of them, in here, in the house, so I can really quit worrying about that, thank Gawd...
(For those of you trying to keep count or in some kinda sick "How many goddamned cats will Stevie have by her birthday" betting pool... this makes 10 kittens in about 4 or 5 days. And, nooooo... I don't need any recipes, thanks... *giggle*) Made a half a ton of chili for dinner. I always make too much, but this time I scared me. I went beyond my usual either one huge pot, or two semi-large pots, to THREE semi-large pots. Eric's gonna be shittin' chili from this batch in 2006, I'll bet.
Either that, or everybody who works here is gonna get some.
CHILI, I mean... (Which reminds me... that's another thing the shit in my Mt. Dew does... increases your sex drive... allegedly.) See, the other day at work I was readin' my can of Diet Mt. Dew and it has this shit in it called Phenylalanine. I've been saying for weeks that this shit is like jet feul to me and sure enough... this Phenylalanine can help with pain, depression... crap like that.
So, it hittin' me like liquid meth is probably within the realm of reason, I'd say. Whatever's doin' it, I like it, I like it.
And...
I am losing weight.
Not as fast as I did with Ephedra, but I don't care. Drink enough of this shit and I can see where I'd not care about anything.... lol. Ah well... back to the grind.
I really have to get this done, this time.
There's gonna be some cow/computer dude in here tomorrow, trying to get this cow herd program up and running and I do NOT need anybody ELSE seeing this place like it is now... or was when Eric let the first cow/computer dude in here YESTERDAY, when even I didn't wanna come in here and hafta breathe... that dip.
He told me that he told the dude to excuse the house, but we'd both been sick recently...
I'm just certain the guy looked around and thought to himself, "Yeah, this'd make ME sick, too, man..." *rolls eyes* Just what I needed to hafta think about at work.
Some random dude seein' this messy shithole. Time to turn it back into a habitable environment, I do believeith. I'm workin' on it... I'm workin' on it.
*gets up muttering to self... "Been washing dishes for the last 6 hours and there's still a few left... gonna hafta use a scraper on that fuckin' linoleum or vinyl or whatever it is in that kitchen... vacuum's gonna try to commit suicide, too, it sees this shit waitin' for it... God? HELP ME, PLEASE!!!!...."*
Posted by: Stevie at 12:41 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 23, 2005
I've finally got it...
I can finally explain perfectly what it's like for me with Kim, Dad's wife.
It's like she's Roseanne and I'm Mark, Becky's husband.Ex-ACT-ly like that.
Posted by: Stevie at 03:00 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Bitch alert!! Bitch alert!!!
Know what I need besides a swift kick in the ass just for GP's?
A Hazmat placard kinda thing to post when I get like this.Prefferably of some kind of acid. Some kind of horrible, destructive acid that if ya even look at it, ya die or wish you would.
And, if ya mess with it and piss it off, it'll fuck up your weekend and the weekend of all those you know, even if it's a Monday or something. If I had one of those, I'd use it today. Been awake about an hour or so. It's raining, my left nostril is killing me (sinuses, thanks E, for the nose cold, ya putz...), another cat, who could more correctly be called "the disappearing babymaker" had her HERD of babies and when she was here for breakfast this morning, I got my ass dressed up to (or DOWN to) barn boots and all, waiting for her to go back outside to her kids, so I could follow her and help her bring them in here. Last year, one of the brainless dickheads who live here very nearly ran her over in the driveway when she was carrying a baby over here from the barn.
Well.
She was here. I fed her. While she was eating I got dressed and when she was done, she went to the bathroom. I sat on the step, waiting for her and when she was done, she jumped into "her" windowsill and looked for her bowls, which weren't there, because the last few days, she's been too pregnant to jump up there. I grabbed the bowls and before I got the one filled with water and back there to her, she was gone. Gone. Looked everywhere, no Chyna.
Fuck. So, I took off the barn boots and got driven nutso by a coupla other things (mostly this gross house) and next thing I know... she's baa-aa-ack. Still don't know where the kids are, but I suspect they're in here somewhere, since she wasn't gone very long, nor wet when she got back, so I guess I'll quit worrying about that for now. Then, I had this tape running that I made offa TV. Wasn't sure just exactly what's on it, but lo and behold... I've got Benny Hill on here.
That man is CRAZY.
He's been making me laugh so fuckin' hard I can't even stay pissed.
That little bald dude is funny as balls, too. Be cool if I have that "pigeon poem" on here. The one that ends with Benny turning the bird loose and "he swooped and he POOPED, right in me eye..."
Even if I don't, what I do have here is good. Oops. Benny just ended and apparently, I switched over to VH-1, cause now, it's "I love the 70's"... again.
Lord, I love Hal Sparks. Oh Jesus.
Ziggy Marley discussin' Big Wheels. Is it any wonder AT ALL that I'm as fucked up as I am, watching this shit? Awww, Earth, Wind and Fire. Now, this is better. Wo. There went Rick James.
One Day at a Time... oh yeah. Lord, I loved Schneider.... Oh, holy shit... 8 tracks.
I am sooooo old. Anyway... they went to commercial, which I'm about to fast forward through, which is the coolest thing about watching TV on tape... fuck Tivo... so, I suppose I oughta start something besides another bitch-fest. And, don't forget... "Foxy Ladies" can call Erik Estrada "Paunch" anytime they want....
Dipshit. Peace, people....
Posted by: Stevie at 10:08 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 22, 2005
Just in case...
Since I got home from work, I've been hangin' out over to Rob's a bit.
First thing I did was get rid of a lot of vitriolic verbal vehemence all over some stupid broad, capped another post and made it nearly impossible for females to give Rob shit about something he said without revealing things about themselves best left to the imagination and mentioned Dan Blocker in a bunny suit. SOOO, just in case anybody comes here, wondering just what in the hell I was talking about, about Dan Blocker... here it is. (Yeah, 'cause that's the thing that'll make people wonder about my sanity... lmao)
How cute is that? Now this...
And, so is Rob... even without the bunny suit. (Or should that be "especially without the bunny suit"?? *giggle*) Either way...
On that note, I'm outta here.
Back later. Peace, y'all...
Posted by: Stevie at 04:33 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 21, 2005
I know what I want for my birthday...
Peace of mind.
That's it, that's all.
Nothing more or less.
Probably a lot.
Once I get it all straight in my own mind. But, I must be wantin' to get it out pretty badly already (worse than I realize, I mean), because I've already mentioned it to a fella I emailed earlier today.
First time I've ever written to him and I'm blabbin' about that. Jeezus.
*giggle* Sorry, Cat.
*blushes* However, if I don't get this right, at least the first time I talk about it, it could probably somehow get even worse, so I'm gonna take my time with this one. I will say, or ask, this much now, though... If you really, really wanted to "get" me, if ya wanted to fuck up my world completely, in an instant, whatta ya think you'd do to do that?
What's my kryptonite?
Anybody already know this one? The ones who do know this will be the ones who'll understand the best how goddamned scared I've been for the past three years and how utterly terrified of possible future "what if's" I can get. Maybe. And...
Don't feel bad if ya don't know.
I'll just assume ya think I'm invinicble and try to remember that.
*grin* Feel like I'm gonna need to be sometimes, this thing is such a.... mess. Oh, and one more lil teeny, tiny (goddamned) detail.... I'VE NEVER HAD A KID, SO- BASICALLY- WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HAVING TO DEAL WITH THIS SHIT? Hummmmmm? Honestly.
Just proves that God has thee most twisted sense of humor this side of.... me. Here... want me to put it into "perspective" for ya, too? I can, ya know. Easily. Today, because of this bullshit, the idea of going into work and dealing with Mr. Mean Cook and all that that implies was A PLEASURE.
It was NUTTIN'.
And... I did good. Only thing I said that was stupid, I didn't even say to him.
The Rock announced the lunch special and it was Tuna Pita, which is tunafish (duh) on a pita (double duh).
I heard that, I repeated it back to him as I wrote it down, then I said...
"Okay. Tuna Pita. On whatever?" He looked at me like I'm retarded (which I am) and said, "Noooo. Tuna on a PEE-TA..." real slowly. I turned 19 shades of red and busted up laughing and he just kinda smiled and said he wasn't eeeeven gonna ask and wandered away. See, usually, you can order the lunch special on whatever kinda bread ya want it on, but today... PEE-TA only, thanks. I'mina go clean something now and try to get this other shit straight in my head so I can get it straight da fuck outta my head, before it finishes eating my brain. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 06:38 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 20, 2005
Not that I hopped right to it or anything, but...
So far, I've not only fixed the dog pen and gotten those two numbskulls outta here, I've also located the perfect tool for a certain lil job I have to do and I also fixed the stupid screen door.
The closer thing is gone on it, so it mostly just hangs open, unless we stick a bungy cord on it. That'll make it shut, sure, but if ya have the stupid thing done up too tight, it'll also take yer foot off.
George replaced the cord the other day and it was so tight, it could about throw ya into the livingroom closing, so I just fabricated an adjustment for it without having to compromise the integrity of the cord.
Yay, me.
I asked George to do that, too, as it has these little teeny, tiny screws ya hafta undo to get the globe off, which is a pain right in the balls when you have half inch long fingernails. I have a pair of pliers ready, so maybe it won't be the fustercluck I expect it to be... that is usually is. Ya know what kills me?
This crap I'm just breezing through so easily is "man shit", kinda, to do. Fixing doors, fixing enclosures, fuckin' with obstructionist lighting fixtures, wielding hatchets (yes, I managed to work in a little "hatchet time", too...) ... all man shit, mostly.
By the same token, house cleaning, laundry, animal husbandry (when the animals in question are 4200 cats, at least)... all the shit I find sooo hard to do, is female crap. Doing guy crap is easier and more fun for me. Da fuck's up widdat? Of course, if I'd felt like doing this shit in first frickin' place, I'da not asked a guy to do it.
Shoulda known better. Oh, and I killed one of my flashlights, purely by accident.
See, if somebody (George) had changed the stupid lightbulb in the mudroom like I asked, I'd not have needed the flashlight to find my barn boots, which I needed to go out into the rain and mud to fix the dog pen and, thus, wouldn't have dropped it and broke off the bulb in the head of the thing. *tight grin* See how that works, do ya?
I don't come up with shit to ask people to do just for shits-n-giggles.
There's usually a pretty damned good reason.
Like, preventing future problems. Or, saving a worse hassle later. Or, because it's gonna be some kinda "mass-beneficial" in some way. Like that matters. Nobody ever listens to me, either. (I say "either", because it goes so well with nobody ever telling me anything... *smirk*) Okay... off to feed the dogs and change that bulb.
Then... who knows? I'll letcha's know when I figure it out.
Posted by: Stevie at 09:15 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Being alive can, at times, be a major league pain right in the ass...
Or ovaries.
Same goddamned thing.
Everything else, pretty much, is giving me a more intense, prolonged STAB of pain... in the ass, the brain and the attitude. I'm almost surprised I haven't jacked anybody's jaw. Yet. I mean, there's only about 10 people and an increasing number of what can only be BRAIN DAMAGED animals in that line, lemme tell ya's.
I almost wouldn't know where to start.
Except, I do.
With the people. Sure, animals fuck up my house faster than I can clean it. Sure, they shit a lot. Sure, they leave me "gifts" of dead creatures in the kitchen. Sure, they claw and bark and crow and climb and spray and HAVE BABIES and do all kindsa other shit that can make ya crazy. BUT...
They're better than people and the shit they pull. Wanna know what the number one most annoying fuckin' thing is that people do?
Breathe. *disgusted sigh* Everybody, including me, is gittin' on my LAST NERVE.
Also including these two asshole kittens who're waging WW5 between my back and the back of this chair.
It's soooo easy to type when you're doing what amounts to the frickin' WATUSI to keep from being clawed (Claude?) to death.
Well, I'm not a game warden, so I guess it'd be "clawed". Friday sucked total donkey dick at work. Stood around with my thumb up my ass for 7 fuckin' hours and made squat.
I came up with an idea around 11am, when I heard the Boss Lady frettin' over not being able to find anybody to "hostess" from 11p to 5a. I told her, "Let me the hell outta here now and I'll come back at 11p."
She liked that idea, but she missed the fuckin' POINT by 210 miles.
She kept me there til 3p anyway, which completely pissed me off and taught me to never EVER do that again, then I got a call after I got home that the regular hostess chick was coming in, so nevermind.
Fine.
I had a cat having her first kittens ever, anyway. Yeah.
Now I have four MORE cats.
Shut up. You shut the hell up too, you stupid, redundant, unoriginal, LOUD asshole rooster.
I'M AWAKE, YOU FUCK!!! CAN YOU NOT SEE ME SITTING UP, TYPING, YOU BLIND PRE-CHICKEN POTPIE PECKERHEAD?!??! Gawd. I have the only two roosters on the planet who'll duck and run when they see me aim a water bottle at 'em. Which I am about to do.
Alright. That's it.
Now the other one has to add his two cents.
Time for a little "shower", I think...
brb... Idiots. I heard of "water aversion training", as I call it, from Paula Poundstone, the comedienne. She uses it to keep her cats from doing stupid shit. So do I.
Little does she know it'll also shut a rooster up from 10 feet away.
*smug grin* Mine are so "well trained" now, all ya gotta do is show them the squirt bottle and they "git it" real quick.
Shuts 'em right the hell up.
Til I leave the room, that is.
Which is fine.
Crow yer stupid asses off, I don't care.
Just don't do it right into my left ear, jerkweed.
It's farkin' LOUD.
Ain't it sure ain't AC/DC or anything you'd want blasted into yer head.
Know what I mean?
Cool.
So do they... now. Also, thanks to a computer-generated, S.O.P.-type court letter about back "spousal" support, everybody is freakin' out.
I, myself, hate this shit and it gives me yet another reason to thank GOD for my defective ovaries and shows me IN DETAIL why NOT having kids is GREAT. Except, it still sucks, because, even though I've never had any kids, I'm still affected by shit pertaining to them.
Not good shit, either.
When da FUCK does that happen, by the way? *rolls eyes* Anyway, we got one, SHE got one and SHE assumed we started something (yeah, right...) and got all retarded and blabbed to Joe and the fossil that she was gonna do a buncha shit in court that day, since we wanted to start shit. She was gonna tell 'em a buncha shit and try to get Eric locked up.
Which is why, besides the fact we don't have the amount of the "arrearage" in hand, nor do we have a goddamned lawyer, we ain't going.
We told him to tell HER not to go.
Fuck 'em, these assholes of the oh so high and mighty STUPID court. Actually, I owe Rob again...
Reading all his Blogspot archives (which I'm still working my way through), I came across an editorial he linked from Philly.com about men getting fucked in court like this. And, there's an email address for an organization for Dads that I'm gonna write to, if I ever get a break from being pissed off by people and events.
Til then, I'm just too busy being pissed to write right.
As y'all can well see. Oh good. It's finally light enough out to see and it's frickin' raining. Perfect. *bangs head on desk repeatedly* Guess I oughta just be glad it's not snow and shut the fuck up, huh? Honestly.
One more thing, and I swear, I'm gonna take the TV, an armload of tapes and the coffeepot into the bathroom and nail myself in.
Just watch.
I'm gunna do it. It's gonna be either do that, or kill something or someone. Ya know what? About Friday... I shoulda known something was up when, after I washed my hair and had about an hour before I had to leave for work, my stupid hairdryer died.
I had a backup, thank God and Grandmom, but, still... I shoulda just known.
And, here's how goddamned annoyed I've been since then... I haven't even gone out and gotten a new one.
I don't even care.
Oh, I will care, if I don't "fix" this, the next time I hafta dry my hair... like later today.
But, right now?
Fuck it. Actually, to be 100% perfectly honest, as is my wont to do... fuck EVERYTHING for right now.
Ya know?
Juuust everything. I don't gotta do nuttin but shit and die. I don't own property, so I don't have to worry so much about "pay taxes". I just hafta shit and die.
Not clean. Not eat shit. Not be tormented half to insanity. Just shit, then die. Be kinda hard to do the other way 'round, now wouldn't it? And, actually... I'm watching "American Graffiti" and it is working. Milner and Carol just made me laugh and a little bit ago, I caught myself singing with the band at the sockhop. That reminds me... I caught a bit of "The Burning Bed" the other day and I LOVE PAUL LE MAT. Fuckin' GORGEOUS. That's the only thing I truly hate about this movie... that John has to be killed by a goddamned drunk driver. What kinda rip-off bullshit is THAT?
He's a racer, for fucks sake.
You mean to tell me, Lucas, that he couldn't have avoided that drunk dickhead? John friggin' Milner, the best driver in the fuckin' Valley had to die like THAT? Or, at all?
You suck for that, Georgie.
So do you, Coppola.
For this and that BOMB, "Godfather III".
Lord GAWD, did that one suck. Only good thing in that movie is Sophia being shot. Just needs to happen much sooner.
Is she the shittiest actress ever, or is it just me?
Pee-frickin'-eww, she stinks.
And, that Appallonia chick in the first one had the weirdest lookin tits I've ever seen. Looked like a 12 year old or something.
Ew.
Glad when she blew up, too.
How Kay didn't end up dead is beyond me.
She shoulda.
Ugly frump. Well, ain't I just Susie Sunshine, here.... lol. Oh shit.
I just remembered...
Two of the four dogs escaped the pen last night and they're now locked in George's bedroom.
Guess I oughta take 'em out to pee, maybe feed 'em and give 'em some water, huh? AND, toddle my ACHIN' ASS outside and fix the freakin' hole, too. THEN, I can put 'em back out.
Hmmm...
Wonder if I can "fix" this quick enough to skip all the other shit?
Just feed everybody out there, as it oughta be... Well, I suppose I could... IF I get up from here like, NOW. So...
I'm gonna. I'll probably be back later.
Unless, of course, that "one more damned thing" happens, whch causes me to do the "nail myself in" thing.... Peace P.S. Now d'ya see why it was a good idea to just blogroll Rob's archives?
Posted by: Stevie at 07:12 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 18, 2005
Okay...
Just to make it easier to find Rob's archives in the midst of my.... *ahem*... prose, I blogrolled it.
It's right under the original Gut Rumbles link in the 'roll. Know what? I'm gonna go on and blogroll the original Blogspot "spot", too. Then, you'll be able to find it, no matter how crappy of a day I may have had.*grin*
Posted by: Stevie at 09:36 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 17, 2005
Lookin' at my Site Meter...
All I can hear in my head is a guy screaming, "Are you rea-dy to RUM-BLLLLLLLE!!!!!!!"
And, the only answer to that is: hell yeah! Like I said in an earlier email... Gawd, I love that guy. I do bee-lieve that this calls for a spin (or two) of AC/DC's "Shook Me All Night Long". Then, maybe "All Shook Up", by the Big E.Followed up with "Whole Lotta Shakin'" by the Killer himself.
Then, "Shake, Rattle and Roll", by Joe Turner....
Theeen....
Well, y'all get the idea. *fade out to the opening beats of AC/DC*
Posted by: Stevie at 09:55 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Here ya are...
Acidman's complete archives...
December 2001 through April 2004.May is listed there, too, but the May archives are on his current front page. Just start (or end) with April. More treasures....
*grinning gleefully*
Posted by: Stevie at 08:44 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 16, 2005
Maybe I oughta quit while I'm ahead...
This day now sucks less than it did earlier.
The trip to the Bosses house wasn't so bad. The cold outside made me feel better.Didn't get "killed" when I told 'em Eric's too sick to work tomorrow.
Thank God. Then, I got to actually talk to Pat.
That made me feel way lots better. Add to that the fact that Paul has my new "thing" on my sidebar and it gets even better. Now, I can't decide if I should go to bed or clean. Probably oughta make it "bed".
Don't wanna be late for work again. Besides...
This mess obviously isn't going anywhere, now is it? Peace, y'all....
Posted by: Stevie at 09:31 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
It's official...
I hate this day.
Best thing about it so far is that Paul added something to my sidebar for me and that it's almost over. (The day, I mean...)
He's sick. Fuckin' great.
Juuuust what I wanted to do. Please, won't someone just kill me now?
Spare me the ick-factor of knowing that Kim has any control over anything I do at all... like having a Dad or a brother? Keep me from having to somehow not kick an old man's ass when I tell him Eric's not working tomorrow and he says something stupid? Save me from this bullshit fuckin' tour of duty in HELL called "my life"? C'MON.... just do it.
I'd feel ever s'much better if ya did.... (Yeah... and so would a buncha other people, huh?)
Posted by: Stevie at 07:18 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Well, goddamn....
And, that goes both ways, too.
There's been a coupla good "goddamns" and a coupla bad ones, hence the title.
Then came, "Oooh, hotdamn, Pat's got his YIM working!" Immediately followed by, "Goddamn. Now he's gotta go to work. That was fast.."
Then, I had two "goddamns" whilst I was typing to him. The first one was the one that pissed me off the most. THAT FUCKIN' CAPS KEY AGAIN.
Fucker.
This time, I pried it right offa the fuckin' keyboard.
Bet I don't "accidentally" hit it anymore. Unless, of course, I beat it into the consistancy of powder, sittin' here next to my coffee cup on the desk.... piece of shit. The other "goddamn" came when Pat told me again, and it registered, that my brother is going to Alaska with the Marines. And, I FINALLY got Norman's YIM name and added him, only to see that he's already gone.
Glad Pat got to talk to him, at least, but, I feel compelled to shriek two things at once here.... "FUCK!", cause I missed him and an even bigger FUCK!!!!!, because this is exactly what the hell I'm talking about, when I go on about not being a part of anybody's FAMILY, damn it. Nobody ever tells me a fuckin' thing. Didn't get told when Dad went into the hospital for fuckin' QUADRUPLE BYPASS SURGERY, so why in the name of CHRIST ON A FUCKIN' STICK, would I expect to be told anything about Norm the 3rd?
'Cause my Dad keeps trying to convince me that I am part of the family and that I do matter and all, then I come up on shit like this and see the truth.
Fine.
Whatever. Hell, I even called Dad's HOUSE. Twice. No answer.
Think anybody'd give a flying fuck if I just died? Well, okay, some people would, but do ya think DAD would notice? I don't. He wouldn't be allowed to. Yo, Pat... remember when I said you'd best not let Kim find out yer talking to me? This is what I mean. THIS is how shut out I am. She will kill you if she thinks you've gotten ahold of me.
Just watch. I am a non-person. Persona non grata. Goddamn.
(See? Goddamns're just pepperin' my day...) The shit Pat will be force fed when Kim finds out he's talking to me is exactly the shit I didn't want Dad to have to deal with on my behalf.
I ain't as worried about Pat.
He's not married to the... female. (And, all that that word implies...) Pat's got the balls and is allowed to use 'em... (like to see somebody try to stop him, actually) to do whatever in the hell he wants, thank God, including being "around" me. He'll tell her to piss off if she goes too far. There's only so much she can do to hurt him. There's only so much she can do to exert her influence on him.
She's not married to him, so she can't threaten to leave, cut off sex, belittle him for liking me or make his life a living hell, or whatever it was she did to Dad to make it impossible for HIM to include me in his life.
She can't do that to Pat.
She did it to both Norman's, though, didn't she? I don't even get to say "Hi", "Bye" or anything else to my brother. "My" hell... HER SON is who HE is. Won't be allowed to be my brother til she's dead.
(And, evil never dies, does it?) Yeah, thanks a fuckin' PANTLOAD, Vivian, for having me. Glad I was asked about this shit.
Hope yer in HELL mom.... I am. Man, I hate how much this bullshit fucks me up.
One way or the other, it IS gonna stop.
Here and now.
(Where's my axe handle?) I musta been Atilla the Hun in a previous life, if this is what I deserve from my "family"...
Either that, or I suck really, really bad now.
(And, for the record, I think it's that I suck now, according to Kim...) I've gotta wonder, does she get some kinda glee from doing this to me or is it so ingrained she doesn't even think of it anymore?
I, myself, think she gets off on it. Aw, fuck her and this shit. I'm gonna go take my non-existant ass and go clean something.
(Wish it could be HER offa this planet right now... bitch.) Be safe, "brother" of "mine".
Be real nice to have some kinda real relationship with you without interference from HER sometime before I die.
Think that'd be possible?
Me neither... And, Dad? If I'm lucky enough to have you for a Dad again in some other life, can ya do me one favor?
Don't forget about me next time, just because of some stupid woman, okay?
Please?
(Or how's about marrying something besides bitches next time?) Just so's ya know...
My heart hurts so bad right now that my forearms are numb.
And, tears are here without me even being involved in generating them.
They're just here and I'm keepin' on keepin' on. They won't stop, regardless.
Even though I'm TRYING like hell to pretend they ain't happenin'... they are. Make it good this time, Woman, 'cause it's the LAST time yer gonna do this to me. One way or the other I am NOT gonna spend the rest of my life being hurt by you. And, I think it's gonna be "the other" way, as in I just kill that part of my heart off.
It's meaningless anyway, isn't it? Just like me. Right?
Right.
Posted by: Stevie at 11:47 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 15, 2005
Wanna go to hell wit' me?
May the Lord bless and keep us,May He make His countenence to shine upon us. May He forgive us, too.... (I am sooo goin' to hell, now.)
(Like I wasn't before. Yeah. Right.)
Posted by: Stevie at 06:32 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 14, 2005
Yo, Acidman Fans....
Wanna see something cool?
Click this.
Rob's killin' me all over again.
I've about pissed myself several times, so far, at things like: "Elvis would be green with envy. Well, after this long in the ground, Elvis is probably green, anyway." "Some people can't even hate right." And, his escaped goat story.
I never knew that pissin' on ya was part of a goats defense arsenal. And, ya know what?
I did find hidden treasures here.
Posted by: Stevie at 09:31 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmyGOD!!!
I think Darrel Buschkoetter(!!!) was here today.
Somebody from Hastings, Nebraska was here, twice, with a Google search of his name, anyway....
I'm losin' it, here. Darrel Buschkoetter.
Wow. And hey... if ya aren't him, but ya KNOW him, pass me along, will ya?
Thanks. And, if the rest of ya's are wondering what in thee hell I'm going on about, it's Darrel, from that PBS documentary called "The Farmer's Wife".
It was EXCELLENT. It was a Frontline documentary done by David Sutherland. It followed Darrel and Juanita through a few years and was the most compelling thing I've ever witnessed.
I even bought the whole three tape deal and I watch it a LOT. Haven't in a while though.
About to now, again... *grin* Darrel is such a good man.
Works so hard.
Adorable, too. He kept me from quittin' Wellacrest many a frigid night. I'd be out there, screwin' around in the freezing cold, messin' with some 'tard cow, cussin' my head off, wantin' to just say "fuck this" and I didn't. Because I'd remember Darrel, bustin' his ass, never quitting and wearing that Gerber of his. In fact, the other day, Eric told me he'd been checking out Gerbers and there's a buncha new ones out.
I told him, "Cool. I do still want another one. I want my "fake" connection to Darrel Buschkoetter back. I miss it." I'd love to meet this guy.
Even just by email. I think about him quite often, wonder how he is. He's a good guy, Darrel is and I'm freakin' that it mighta been him here today. How cool is that?
Very. Update @ 7:15pm...
Holy cow.
Long time ago, when I mentioned Darrel before, someone told me his phone number is available to the public, if ya look in the right places.
It's true. I've got his phone number. wow. And, naaaah.
Not gonna call 'im.
Don't wanna be like that. But, still...
wow.
Posted by: Stevie at 06:37 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
My (new) motto...
"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who matter don't mind and those who mind don't matter."
Just found this in my search referrals.I liiiiike this. Me, in a nutshell.
(NUTshell... how perfect.) Was late for work this morning.
First time.
For this job, I mean.
Fuck man... I was born two weeks late and I've been runnin' to catch up since. I was SICK, expecting Mr. Mean Cook to verbally kick my ass, BUT...
he was cool. oo-eee-ooo.... And THAT, friends and neighbors, almost scared me more than if he had freaked out.
Well... he did freak out, but not on me.
The interesting thing about it when he did lose it was whom he lost it on and her reaction. It was his own sister and he didn't cut her any more slack than he ever does anybody else and I saw her go like, "SHIT! Grrr..." to herself over it.
Same thing I do.
Y'okay, then....
(*whispers* ... and here I thought she was "special"... 'Course, so did she.) Anyhoo... all he said when I walked in was "Hurry up..." and I did. I didn't frick up any orders and I made it through his shift. Hell, I even forgot my favorite owner was coming in. I saw him and got all happy and relieved and then I knew I'd be fine...
And I was.
I even got outta there at a decent time. And, missing those 45 minutes this morning didn't affect tips much, if at all.
Kinda makes me wonder if going in at 10 all the time would work.... but, no. Not even gonna start with that shit. Got my heart broken at near the end of my own shift, though.
We have regulars who come in all the time for the Early Bird Specials. Most of these people are older and rather sweet, if a tad "persnickity" about stuff, sometimes. (I just tell myself that it's the crotchety old people who live the longest, so it doesn't bother me... much.)
Anyway, one of these couples is John and Rose. Every time they come in, they take home the scraps for their dog, I think her name is Queenie.
Today, when they came in, the first thing Rose says is that they won't be needing the go-boxes today... because their Queenie died today. This morning. Gawd. I almost cried right then and honestly, my eyes are filled right now, just mentioning it...
I hate this shit. I "handled" it by telling myself that Elva has a buddy to go to Heaven with, so I made it without actually crying. Then, anyway.... (she says as she leaks now...) Another waitress and I are gonna replace their dog.
We're gonna start with a stuffed animal toy... a white shepard, like they had.
If that goes over well and they make any noises like they'd let us, I think we'll go so far as to get them another real dog.
Wouldn't be the first time I did that, either. It IS the best thing, the ONLY thing to do.
Get another one.
NOW. That is one of the best things about animals compared to people. Animals, you can replace.
(But, that's why God invented weed. Isn't it?) On that note... I'd best get it in gear, I suppose.
I have about two thirds of a ton of animals waitin' to be fed, crap to clean (still) and an "Uncle" to catch up with that I haven't seen for YEARS.
That'd be Pat.
But first... I gotta go re-enact, as best I can by myself, that "shotgun" picture.
All I need is one of those "power-hitter" footballs. Oh yeah... and I've also gotta go dig through all my "stuffies" and see if I've got what we need for John and Rose.
They are sooo sweet, those two.
We couldn't help but wonder what on EARTH this woman is gonna do, should he go before her... He takes such careful care of her, you can just tell she'd be lost on her own.
I (started) to say to the other waitress, that maybe, if God is merciful... what? She'll go first? He'll be left alone? I couldn't even finish the sentence.
Me and her looked at each other, both choked up and teary eyed at that thought.
And, the dog was bad enough.
Ya know? Ya know what else?
If the feelings are this intense and sometimes almost unbearable with "just" animals, how much worse must it be for NORMAL people when it comes to dead kids and other people?
I shudder to think. (Thank you, God, yet again for my defective ovaries. That's something I'll never fully know and I won't miss it a bit. Now, can we talk about my cat NORMAN who still hasn't come home yet?) Peace, y'all....
Posted by: Stevie at 06:00 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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