January 06, 2007
Cooking question (Mike)...
What's the secret to deep frying scrapple?
I tried it last weekend in my new (lil tiny) deep fryer and all it did was disintegrate it.It went in looking like a (relatively) thin slice of scrapple and came out looking like crispy, brown lace. I don't know if what I'm going to make for dinner tonight is officially Shepard's Pie, but, it's gonna be my version of it. What I'm gonna do is brown a big load of beef.
Season it with Nature's Seasonings, seasoned salt and whatever else smells good. Garlic, probably... just a taste.
Put onions, corn and peas in it.
Add some Hunter's Sauce.
Let it cook for a bit, then throw it into a casserole dish.
Top it with mashed taters and shove it in a 350 degree oven til the taters brown.
Maybe save some of the Sauce for "gravy"... Then, if I'm far enough along with whatever cleaning thing I'm doing by then, maybe... juuuuuust maybe, I'll bake a cake. I don't know yet. Anyway... sun'll be going down enough to drop the temp soon and then I'll have to get all the feathered critters (and the rabbit) back in, so I guess it'd behoove my ass to shaddap and get their shit done. Back later. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 04:12 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Okay, here's what's gonna happen...
The current temperature is a balmy 63 degrees.
Yes. 63 degrees. Because it is, I'm going to put all the feathered animals outside, and the rabbit.Then, I'm gonna break down, re-bed and fix up their houses.
(Sometime immediately prior to this endeavour, I'm gonna open the kitchen window. 63... degrees)
(I'm also going to take Def Lep out of the Walkman and put it and Ozzy and Rick Springfield and prolly a lil Stevie Ray in the "big" player and let 'er rip.) What else I'm gonna do, but less because of the fact that it's... say it with me now... 63 degrees, is clean the eff you see kay outta this house. Then, I am gonna post a notice to the effect of not leaving a mess any bigger than the mess you want me to make you into, on the floor, much resembling a huge splat of strawberry jelly.
The kind with the huge clots of strawberry in it, too. Biiiig splat.
With eyeballs and teeth and bits of bone sticking out. See what I'm drivin' at heah? Pft. See what I've been driven too? Anyway. I just remembered that I want more cat litter.
All I wanna hafta do is dump and refill.
Sprinkle deodorizer on top and done.
Not in the mood to pick the stupid things today.
Too much else to do to waste time and energy on that. So...
Gotta get dressed.
*sigh*
Leave Def Lep in the Walkman for a bit longer and take it with me to the Giant to get the cat litter.
And, before I go, I ought get the feathered critters outside and I'm including the stupid parrot and the 'keet.
And the rabbit.
Yep.
It's that every bit of... 63 degrees out there.
Niiiice. Come home, clean the cages, clean the cat boxes, clean the house. Gotta do something kinda heavy duty to the front room carpet, too. Stupid duck. I'm thinking carpet cleaner and a big, stiff... BRUSH. As if one of those things you thought of first would help... *giggling* Anyway... oh hell. First, before I do any of that, I'm gonna do GR. I've been getting so lucky lately and seeming to go right to, blindly I might add, great posts.
And, by blindly, I mean that I don't go seeking out particular posts unless somebody wants to see it.
I just pick a month and either scroll down the page, scroll through each post one at a time or mouse up and down the list of archives and click with my eyes closed.
All depends on where I'm looking.
In order of how I do it, the places would be the archives on GR front page, my own blogroll and his Monsterman blogspot site. Depnding on how much time I have, or, for a better way to put it... depending on how much pressure I feel to get up from here and go do something else, I then either look for posts without links or I find good ones with links and follow them to see if they're still good and all that.
Then, I re-do the links, note when it was "originally published" (and, it's has become just as natural for me to type those two words as it is "caughtinthexfire.mu.nu"), and post it. If the post is really good and the links no longer work, I note that, too.
Or post to whatever the front page is, if it's a blog and I can't find the relevant post in the archives, like yesterday. One of these days, I'm gonna do one of his "linkfest" posts. But, for right now, I'm trying to keep stuff like that and pictures and whatnot to a minimum just in case it would have any impact on the ease with which Paul can move him. Same here, except, thanks to a reply of mine to an earlier comment, I have this almost irresistable urge to post a picture...
A picture I've posted before and like very much.
*grin* BUT... I'll behave. For now. NOW, I'm gonna go get this shit started. It's rumored that that's the only way to ever get done, though I've seen no proof of that particular postulate. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 10:54 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
January 05, 2007
Snow? Sweetie?
I'm not linking you to draw attention to your plight.
I'm doing it because comments are closed and I don't know if I have a valid email address for you and I'm hoping you'll see this this way.
"Comments are closed"="take a hint", but... just one thing... Don't beat yourself up too much over your exchange with your Boss, okay?
Far from being pissed at what you said, he needs to marvel at the fact that you're still there to say it at all with what they're doing to you. 'Kay?
That's not too much of a comment, is it? I hope not, 'cause I really just wanted you to be able to see it from a slightly different perspective.
*hugs on ya*
Posted by: Stevie at 04:25 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Well, "it's" not about me...
It's about ROB.
For me.
Posted by: Stevie at 03:53 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Okay. Ya know what? 'Scuse me, but...
Ed Harris you are not.
This ain't "Sweet Dreams", nor am I Patsy Cline.
Or have done it too long.
Or something. It's a relatively small debris cloud right now, comprised mostly of socks, boots, sweat shirts, used paper plates and those stupid wicker-like holders for them, empty soda cans... that kinda shit... but, it is blowing up in my face. And, I am getting tired of it now.
Moreso and more quickly when I have to listen to sarcasm. Why is that (STILL) your first reaction? I'ma tell ya something... you keep acting like I'm her and I'll BE her, damn it. You want behavior from me that would actually JUSTIFY your shit? That can be done. Just keep it up. Typical Taurus, here.
Put up with insane shit forfuckin'EVER, then, when it's E-FUCKIN'-NOUGH, like this is, I get pissed. I am now idling at "highly annoyed".
With bursts of RPM-age up to "Hey Cat? You gonna be home?". And, the only reasons I've been able to throttle down that much are:
a.) George came home for lunch and let me vent.
b.) I spent an hour in the damned bathroom reading and smoking and drinking coffee and lighting cigarette after cigarette, too.
c. Xfire. I'm not suggesting that you PEOPLE should have to come in from work and clean the motherfuckin' HOUSE, okay? God for-fuckin'-bid. It'd take me a goddamned YEAR to get it straight again. That is NOT what I want. Got that? What I want, like it fuckin' matters, is just for you not to fuck it up literally, exactly, and just as fast as I get it clean. Just have the tiniest modicum of respect for the work, if not (again, God for-fuckin'-BID)... me. We all have this little... arrangement around here. Y'all (the ones who stand to piss) work outside the house.
My "job" is keeping up with you chucklefucks and taking care of... oh, EVERYTHING. Fine. I kinda rather like this arrangement. I don't hafta spend hours a day out in public somewhere, eatin' a lotta shit. I get to do THAT in the comfort of my own home. And, I get to do what I want, when I want, pretty much. I mean, I can't pick up and go to Georgia (lucky for you people), but other than big ticket shit like that, I pretty much have complete freedom to do whatever occurs to me. That part I like. Fuck man, I like both parts, til we get to where we are now. I also realize that, at heart, most men are just natural slobs.
I'm fine with that.
That is job security for me. But, what you do is beyond that.
Then, to add ignorant-assed sarcasm as your instant, INGRAINED response... yeah.
This is fuckin' workin'. And, the reason that it's NOT WORKING is that you don't seem to understand one tiny, but highly significant, thing... Sad as it is, much as I hate to even admit it, I, like most people, define myself by what I do.
Unfortunately, I look more at what I do around here, in this house, than I do HERE, writing at Xfire. And, when I see the total lack of respect for the work I do around here, it pisses me off.
(Much like the lack of comments makes me feel kinda like I'm a Basengi...)
(Google it.) So, I struggle, on a daily basis, to convince myself that that lack of respect is not directed at me, personally. Then, when you made snide asshole remarks instead of being the slightest bit supportive, you kill things in me, frankly. First they bloom up sending me into a "I need to punch something" RAGE, then...
they die. I just don't need this shit, ya know? And, if it being killed is the way you wanna make it so that I don't hafta deal with it... well, that's too bad.
It's not the only, what should be first, or best alternative, but, you don't fuckin' listen to me about anything else.
Why make an exception for this, right? Right. Fuck. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*deep breath* Okay, I have now unclenched my fists, teeth and asshole. I can breathe again. But...
ah, ah, ah...
I am still on a hair trigger, here. Not at you guys.
You.
*points at moniter*
Not pissed at y'all. But, as a public service announcement, I feel compelled to say that, if you live here, you'd best leave me the fuck alone for a while.
Capice?
Good. Now, y'all may be wondering about his reaction to this. Won't be one. He doesn't read me anymore.
Which, in my "twisted, probably PMS-ing, female, little brain" (/sarcasm), I take as the first measure of how much less he cares now than he used to. That was the first thing of many. Including, but not limited to, and not the least of which (by a long godamned shot) is him pulling the sarcastic, mean and as much as hateful "Oh, yeah. That's right. Nobody CARES!" routine on me this morning. Oh yeah.
That's right.
That's helping. Ya know what I wish I could do?
Come back, about a week after I'm dead, JUST to see how fuckin' disgusting this place would be by then. These shitheads can't even lift a fuckin' toaster cover back up to re-cover the toaster after they've pulled it OFF.
If they can manage to pull it off, then they eat, thus actually gaining strength, how can it be that the goddamned thing is too heavy to put BACK ON? Can someone please, for the love of FUCK, explain that to me? Why, oh why, Dear JESUS, why must boots be left either right in the middle of the fuckin' floor, or, even better... in DOORWAYS??? Maybe I shoulda just quit insisting that they take their boots off in here instead of outside so that the stupid boots wouldn't be ice-cold in the mornings. Maybe I shoulda just let 'em freeze and not have to put up with them not being phyically capable, it seems, of putting them less than six feet from where they do leave them, in the huge baskets, with the other shoes. My fault. Even if it isn't, oh yes, by God it IS. Just ask 'em. And, the mess around here? My fault too, because they're MY cats and Christ knows it's the fuckin' CATS fuckin' everything up.
THEY'RE the ones leaving Sr.'s clothes all over hell's half acre.
Yep.
Them.
They're the ones who leave DISHES all over the fuckin' livingroom, too.
Uh-huh. Aaaand , they're also the ones who greet me and my concerns with sarcastic hostility. They're not the ones who make putting up with their shit (literally) by being glad to see me, lovin' on me and making me feel good and laugh all the time WORTH IT. Please. If the mess was 100% cat-generated, I'd bitch at them. I'm not stupid. Stoned, yes.
Hence the willingness to engage the cats in conversation.
Stupid, no.
I can tell the difference between THEM and YOU.
(*mutters something to self about all of them put together being less aggravating*) And, due to the fact that they're simple-minded animals, I'd never expect them to help me maintain things a little.
Not even at all. I wonder what his excuse is? Fuck me runnin'. Anyway...
I'm gonna go clean the motherfuckin' house again. Then, ya know what I might just do? As soon, and I mean the bare INSTANT, I finish, I may just lose my shit and deliberately fuck it up MYSELF. Take all the FUN out of it, ya know? I asked George, "Hey. Ya know how this place gets trashed almost faster than I can clean it?" He nods. "Do ya think if I fucked it up myself he'd then clean it, if for no other reason, even, than to continue to undo what I've just done?" He shook his head. Shit. Still, there's a certain craven, glittering attraction to the idea or mental image of me just going fuckin' NUTS and tearin' this place all to hell. Then, when I get asked what I did that for, I'd just look him right in the eye and tell him I just wanted to see how it felt to be on the other side of this equation just once. Plus, at least that way, I'd be cleaning up my OWN mess for a fuckin' change. Not that I don't do that already. What?
You harbored some insane idea that anybody around here would do that for me? Why, you big silly, you. And, on that note, I am now gonna go get one more cup of hot, delicious coffe, take it, and my ass, back up to the bathroom and smoke my fevered brain out, I don't care how much it makes me cough.
I don't care if I cough til I hemorrhage.
I literally do not care if I cough my way to a pulmonary fuckin' EMBOLISM, I AM gonna do what I must to calm the hell dooooown and get my head "right" to do what needs to be done. To the house, that is. And, after that, I thankfully won't have enough energy left to do what ELSE needs to be done around here, which involves massive ass-kicking and delayed name taking. FUCK!
Posted by: Stevie at 03:17 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
. Someone that feels the same way I do about the house. I am supposed to work and then still come home and clean, cook and do dishes...BIG FAT BS!!! Only the cats and dog actually listen around here...lol.January 04, 2007
I don't know what got me started thinking about this, but...
I have a few questions of aaaanybody who'd care to answer 'em.
Be anonymous if you need to.
The implied reason was that it's because I don't have massive flame wars going on, nor do I waste my time with politics (usually), therefore don't have much going on that can easily be commented on. Okay. Any other reasons? Inane and benumbing content is an understandable reason... except for ooonnneee lil thing... I see even more inane and mind-numbing content daily that garners multiple comments, also on a daily basis. Are these people submitting comments to their own posts or something?
I mean, I have personally SEEN one dipshit literally do that before... Is that what's going on? Oooorrrr... Am I scary or something?
Even if I were exactly like Rob (which, in my opinion, I'm nowhere near good enough to ever be), he, being scarier than me, got two bazillion comments a day, too. (But, at least what he wrote wasn't so fuckin' boring it made your teeth ache.) Is that it?
Is it too mundane to be commented on? Like, if I were in a room with y'all and said outloud what I write, aside from calling the authorities, wouldn't y'all say something? And, if you would then, what happens when you read it instead of hearing it?
Does it just hurt your brain so much it makes typing impossible? Or, do my posts take so long y'all forget how to type by the end? I do envision people falling asleep facedown on their keyboards when I see the actual length of some of my posts... This doesn't really bother me too much.
Hell, I'd write even if I never got another comment.
I'm perfectly happy talkin' to myself.
(Just ask Paul. If he kept my messages over the years, I swear he could turn them into a comedy book...) But... sometimes the silence does get almost deafening.
(And, only "almost" thanks to Mad Wm. and Viz and a coupla others.) That's when it hits me that I've never even had any real problem with trolls and I can't decide if that's 100% great or just a little disturbing. Not that I want trolls, mind you (but they are fun to play with). But, if even they keep quiet, ya kinda wonder if it's because they're in awe of your fisking powers and overwhelming personality or you're just beyond boring, maybe.
(I tend toward the former philosophy, as opposed to the latter, by the way...) Anyhoo... any enlightenment anyone would care to shed on this will be appreciated. Thank you, thankyouver'much...
*"Elvis" lip/grin* Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 09:04 PM | Comments (22) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Here I go again...
(on my own. Goin' down the only road I've ever known. Like a drifter I was born to walk alone. An' I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time. But, here I go again...)
Oops.Sorry. Channelling Whitesnake this time. And, have I ever mentioned that I detest Tawney Kitaen on the same level as I do Janice Dickenson?
What a coupla skankolas. Anyway, what it is I seem to be doing again is reversing my sleep patterns.
Or, starting to... Three nights ago, I went to bed around 10p, I think.
Woke up around 4 or 5a, if I remember right.
Then, night before last, I went to bed around 1am or so.
Got up around 9am or so.
I remember that because of the whole "Marshall Dillon in Walnut Grove" thing. Last night, I just stayed up til around 2/2:30 or so, then fell asleep here in this chair for a while, kicked back with my 20 pound Bubba-cat on my chest. Woke up around 4:30, quarter of 5.
George was already down here... Had to go get Sr. up.
George just told me that yesterday morning Sr. didn't make it out to work til 5:30, quarter of 6. See what happens when I do manage to have a semi-normal sleep period? If I'm not up to make sure he gets up, he don't git UP. I am 43 years old and have a 41 year old child. Jeezus. Anyway... guess we don't need to worry overmuch about that, seeing as to how I'm apparently going back on the night shift now. Only question right now is... Am I gonna go lay down for a while sometime soon or am I just gonna go on and clean the stupid house? I already have the dishes and wash done again... Oh, and check this out... I made hamburgers and french fires for dinner last night.
And, not pre-made, store bought hamburgers, either. I'm talkin' handmade, half pound puppies that ya almost hadda unhinge yer jaw to bite. Those things were soooo big that ONE of 'em and handfulla fries filled up a TEENAGED BOY. And, a 41 year old boy, George, and the guy down the street too.
(Yeah, the same chucklefuck who was shootin' across the road last night... or the other night... whenever that was.) I used two hunks of hamburger.
Probably about two pounds apiece...
Yeah, that'd be about right.
It made eight burgers... half a pound each... yep. Five of them filled five people to "stuffed" status last night.
The other three and the bacon for 'em are in the fridge. Yeah, I made bacon for the guys, too.
Made sure they also had plenty of ketchup, mustard, relish, tomato, lettuce, onion...
Oh, and two kindsa cheese.
Regular orange/yellow/American/whatever cheese and Swiss. And, now that I've sat here talkin' about food, I want oatmeal and toast.
And, if I do eat oatmeal and toast, my next thing will be wanting to curl up in a ball someplace warm and go to sleep for a while. I have been up or 22 hours... Well, it's either that or stay hungry and sit here smoking too many cigarettes and drinking too much coffee because of it. And, there is another hour of M*A*S*H on TVLand, followed by Gunsmoke... Hmmm... Yeeeaaah. Oatmeal, toast and to bed for while. My eyes and back hurt anyway. Y'all have a good morning and I'll tawk to yiz latah... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 07:05 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
January 03, 2007
And, 45 minutes later, I'm grinning ear-to-ear...
In fact, I can't quit giggling right now.
I just popped over to GR to see what's doin' and there was another (the second) comment where Matty thinks Rob's my Dad. The first time, I just let it go like I have the few other comments that make it clear that the commenter doesn't realize what's going on over there.(Paul is going to put something up when he moves us that explains what's going on, that Rob is gone now and that GR is being kept up as a memorial for him.) But, in the meantime, it's either "let it go" or have to say over and over that he's gone, blah, blah and I don't want to have to keep saying it, nor do I wanna make people keep having to read it, so I just haven't said anything... til now. But, I explained who I am and who I ain't and alla that and then, right before I clicked "post", I thanked Matty for thinking that Rob was my Dad. Told 'im it's the coolest compliment I've ever gotten and it is.
And, the more I think about that and all that it implies, the more I sit here, grinning (and giggling) at the idea. I love that. By all means, please do think he and I are related.
Think I'm juuuuust like him, too.
That's cool.
*grin*
Think it if ya want, I'll never object.
But, I also won't let it go on without the truth.
Y'all know me by now.
And, as cool a concept as that is, I just had to set it straight. And, now that I have, I'm gonna go back to liking the whole idea.
Me... enough like him for people to think I'm his kid. Yeah, bay-bee. Cool.
Works for me.
So much so, that it just put a whole new spin on this day. Might not be such an icky one after all...
Posted by: Stevie at 11:17 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
If the first two minutes that you're awake are utterly surreal, what does that say for the rest of the day?
Not much, so far, but... different issue, that.
(The "not much" part, which I shall get to.)
Tuned to TVLand, as always. I see Miss Beadle, the teacher from Little House.
She's looking a little distressed and she's talking to a kid I recognize, but whose name escapes me. I keep watching, to try to ascertain what's goin' on and it seems like Miss Beadle has to take care of this kid for a while because his Dad (a widower) is in jail for "helping" Miss Beadle (whose name has yet to be spoken, I just know who the woman is) with some bad man who tried or did rape her and now Dad's in jail and the kid's all upset.
Naturally. So, Miss Beadle says, "Fuck this. I'm gonna go tell the marshall what really happened and see what I can do for your Dad."
(And, yes, I am paraphrasing here... also, apparently, nobody wanted to say why Dad had killed the bad man. They didn't want to admit what had been done to Miss Beadle...) Instantly, my brain asks, "Law? In Walnut Grove? Who was the cop on that show?" Meanwhile, she's entering a door on the show and the marshall/sheriff/cop guy is James Arness. My brain then began to melt because what the FUCK is Marshall Dillon doin' coppin' in Walnut Grove? There's Miss Beadle, that stupid kid I can't quite place, the time period is right, the town looks about right, the insides of the rooms look the same... wtf? Dillon in Walnut Grove... okay. Then, my brain says, "Hey. That kid. If he's not offa Little House, he's a Lookinland, not Mike though... one of his brothers. Are you watching Little House or Gunsmoke?" It was Gunsmoke. Wull, thank Gawd, then... But, Jesus that was a weird feeling, trying to place Matt Dillon as the cop in Walnut Grove... Then, after that mental struggle, I get up, go to the bathroom, greet (meaning: fuss over, pet half to death and pick up and say Hi to) about six cats while sitting there, then come on down for a cuppa coffee. Thus begins the "not much being said for the rest of the day" part. Within seconds, I know that I wish "not much being said" applied to PEOPLE.
Like, PEOPLE WOULD JUST SHUT UP. Senior. I come down, there IS coffee, thank CHRIST, but... Every goddamned cabinet door that's been opened so far today is STILL open.
Not only does this look like hell, it also gives the cats free reign to nibshit in places where I've put shit BEHIND DOORS for them to stay out of. *grrrr* Then, I glance around and it just becomes obvious that NOBODY (including me, probably) has the slightest BIT of respect or liking that I kill myself keeping this house clean.
I mean, jeezus, job security is one thing.
THIS is fuckin' ridiculous.
Shit EVERYWHERE.
(Not poop shit, miscellaneous shit...) So, I'm rolling my eyes to myself about that and shutting fuckin' cabinet doors while my cuppa coffee nukes for 55 seconds. I find that Sr. is in for breakfast.
He's in here, noodling around on the computer.
I asked if HE had any idea who left all the cabinets open, and he says he doesn't, which is totally normal for him, in that HE'S the one who leaves 'em open and doesn't even realize/know/care he's doing it. I give my standard, yeah, this boring already answer of, "Y'okay." and go back to get my coffee. I put the shit in it (sweet-n-low and half a pound of Coffeemate) and as I'm coming in here, he's getting up to go back out and being a total ASS about his phone, WHICH if you can remember from my LAST POST I've been through enough shit on behalf of to last the rest of the fuckin' YEAR already.
I don't need HIS shit, his threatening to kill it and doin' all that spittle-flecked cussing at it and shit. I just woke up here.
I got my mind fucked by goddamned TVLand before I even got outta bed to come down here and see that my cleaning the house is akin to trying to empty the fuckin' ATLANTIC OCEAN with a fuckin' TEASPOON and now here's his brand of shit, too.... I told him to just stop it.
Leave the godamned phone alone.
It's the last one we have around here, I have enough shit to juggle trying to keep the fuckin' things going as it is and if he kills his phone, I ain't buyin' another one.
His BOSS can deal with it. So, going by the first, oh... twenty minutes of this day, I'm inclined to dig a hole and bury myself in it before the next load of shit thing happens. Or, just take the friggin' coffeepot into the bathroom with me and baracade myself in there all day... *coupla minutes later* Well, thank GOD.
My bank has finally caught the fuck up with me.
Them and their "give ya half of your deposit one day, the rest two days or so later" shit... I paid every damned bill we have over the weekend and as of yesterday, the stupid bank had me down as 140 bucks under in my account.
Or, in my "availabe balance"...
T'was pissin' me off, too. But, I just checked again and finally, they have it right. All bills paid and I'm back in black as far as my balance. So, that's one thing going right so far.
(In the face of about 12 that haven't gone right so far, but... fuck that, I guess. A start is a start, right?) Okay.
I need another cuppa coffee.
I'm assuming that if I can manage to get one without any disasters befalling me, the day may not suck?
Much?
More? Jeezus. And, yeah... I'm already primed to accept and be happy with that "reasonable facsimile of"... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 10:30 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
January 02, 2007
Well, that was fun.
Went to go get a charger.
At Wally-world.
Paid for it, then asked the clerk (I was still in electronics) to go on and open it if he had an outlet I could borrow to make sure it worked before I drug it all the way home. He did, and I did, but it didn't. Fuck. So, after a quick stop at the CS desk to get a friggin' refund, we go to Radio Shack.
They have one, too.
Which ALSO doesn't work. Shit. Next up, we have 1 Stop Wireless, which was closed. Piss. Then, since I'd used all the "technical golf terms*" I knew, we came home and George tried splicing the one I have again. IT WORKED THIS TIME!!!! Thank you, God. Now... about this headache...
Posted by: Stevie at 10:17 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Somebody stop me...
After today, if I were actually shopping in an Amazon store, my "cart" would be a freakin' train of carts by now.
It all started because I remembered a book I used to have and would LOVE to read, if not own, again. I remember when I bought it the first time... in Deptford mall, with my Dad, Christmas shopping I think, and I also think I was about 14 or 15, and we went to Roy Rogers after that and I read almost half of it while we were eating. It's called "P.S. Your cat is dead". It was good.Weird, but good.
And... I found it. I found that and about 30 other things like that that I stuck in my cart "for later".
Prices ranged from one cent to about 25 bucks.
Mostly everything is under or around 5 bucks, though.
Friggin' shipping is what's gonna kick my ass...
Everything is from different people and places. If I'm not mistaken, everything I found today was books. I have this vision of being able to order it all at once, then have the UPS and FedEx trucks droppin' 'em off randomly for a coupla weeks or so. That'd be cool.
To get something cool every time somebody knocks on the door... That'd be a switch for me. After the eighties and the first half of the ninties, I learned to dread people knocking on the damned door and I'm still phobic about getting mail.
Hell, I don't even HAVE a "landline" phone in this house anymore. Not only do people knock on your door with fer shit news, they also mail it and like to tell ya about it on voicemail. So, no landline, cell only and only the people I want to have it have my number.
I'm starting to not mind getting the mail so much.
The more days and weeks and months in a row that it's all expected shit or junk mail, the better.
And, if I could get some cool driver dudes to bring me cool stuff I've wanted for years...
Why, I might actually start to learn not to be such an antisocial little shit. Not to mention the fact that I love books so damned much that I'd pretty much be too happy to be antisocial... Speaking of cell phones... I hafta go to Wally-world and get a charger for mine.
And Sr.'s.
(One'll do.)
(But, it'll be used for both phones.) Stupid cord either broke or got chewed off by a cat or something.
Right at that little rubber knobby thing that comes off the charger plug...
Right where it's all kindsa fun to try to splice it. Naturally. "We" did try that.
"We" being me getting George to try splicing it.
Didn't work.
*pout* So, now it's off to Wally-world.
Again. And, ya wanna guess where I feel like going?
Noplace. Bed, maybe.
Bathroom, if I have to, but... other than that?
Noplace. But, I'm already dressed.
And, I can't have two dead phones.
Or one, even. Now all I wanna do is get there and back home.
Be done already. BUT... since, about 15 minutes ago, I witnessed my first and what had better goddamned ONLY act of gun-stupidity out of Jr.'s buddy, I think I'll just wait another little while, til it's dark, to go. The asswit lost his fuckin' MIND and was shooting RIGHT ACROSS THE FUCKIN' ROAD at pigeons. First off... LEAVE THE FUCKIN' PIGEONS ALONE.
Second "first off"... don't be shooting this close to my fuckin' house. Asshole. That INSTANTLY pissed me off.
Made my stomach hurt, too. That's the first time I've felt a need to interject myself into anything around here involving hunting or guns, but, goddamn!
I made myself perfectly fuckin' clear and it had better not EVER happen again. I've seen Elmer Fudd's fuckin' rifle barrel tied into a bow enough times to know how to do that, should it become necessary. ASShole. And, now I have a headache, too... Man, I shoulda just let it out when it happened, but I tried to not mention it.
I tried to just go on and finish about the charger, but, holy fuckin' SHIT, does that kinda shit PISS ME OFF. God.
Damn. Anyway... before I go strangle the dickbrain with the gun, I guess I oughta just go to the stupid store. Yeah... *looks out window*... it's dark. Stupid fuck'll probably still shoot at shit, but at least now, in the dark, there's a better chance he'll hit himself with the bullets. Orrrr.... it'll be less likely anybody will see me crammin' his gun up his ass and he'd never want to admit a chick did that to him... See why I like night so much better than day?
The reasons are legion... Back later. Peace
(or a reasonable facsimile thereof)
Posted by: Stevie at 05:55 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
January 01, 2007
Scare the crap outta me, why don'tcha?
Stupid Embarq.
That's the local phone company.Used to be Sprint.
Now they're Embarq and, overall, I'm not impressed. Their website sucks.
Trying to pay my bill is an excercise in tedium, waiting for their shit to load. Then, about 10 after midnight, something happened and I was out of commission til just a while ago. Wudn't my fault.
I paid the stupid bill, just in case that had anything to do with it, but it didn't as they confirmed when I finally spoke to CS after the office opened this morning. CS transferred me to Repair and I told that dude the whole story, including the many steps of "process of elimination, culminating in my deduction that this is Y'ALLS problem" I'd gone through and he cheerfully made notes of eeeeeverything I said, then told me they'd get right on it and stay on it til 7pm.... TOMORROW NIGHT. Df?
(Da fuck?) 7pm tomorrow night? I may be offline til tomorrow NIGHT? For reasons I cannot ascertain, you expect me to be just hunky dory with the idea that Gut Rumbles is maybe gonna hafta SIT til TOMORROW NIGHT? Are ya fuckin' HIGH? Well, I AM AND IT AIN'T HELPING!!!!! I remained pleasant with the 'droid on the phone, then had a "Fonzie Freak Out Moment" up to and including his "pullin' it back" gesture and did NOT immediately call Paul and the National Friggin' Guard or the stupid President or anybody else. I got up, I went into the kitchen and cooked breakfast for three.
(Jr. was out hunting already.) While I was doing that, I kept calling the house number with a cell phone til finally... IT WAS WORKING AGAIN!!!!!!! Thank yew Jay-zus!!! And, it's been fine ever since.
*rapping skull with knuckles*
(instead of wood...) And, you betcher ass I already did GR, too.
*big, cheeky grin* Oh and that roast? Came out SO damned good and tender... *drool*... it came out so good, I'm doin' it again today. Might even bake a cake, too. Laundry is done.
Living room got done last night.
Kitchen ain't too bad. Breakfast dishes are already done...
Need to do the front room and Lord GAWD, do I need to do something about Donnie.
I don't know if it's her diet or what, but, damn when that duck poops...
Christ almighty man. Plus, she seems to enjoy making it "projectile" and I even saw her purposely try to aim it at the white rooster last week when I was letting him run around while I cleaned his house.
My hand to God, Donnie was pissed at Foghorn.
I have no idea why.
But, she was watching him, pacing him back and forth across the front of her cage as he went back and forth, then at one point, she turned around, looked back and SHIT in his general direction. He musta known she was gonna do it, because he leapt to the side, it missed him, she got even more pissed and vocal and I was just wiggin' out over her purposefulness and her frickin' mess. There's a three foot Winnie the Pooh crammed into a rocking chair next to her cage that looks like he's been in Nam, he's so splattered and speckled and... green. I'm not even gonna discuss what I saw this morning involving the goddamned miniblind and window sill... Let's just say it's what gave me the idea of putting trash bags around the outside of the cage.
Tuck 'em into the shelf underneath and next time she shits, it'll hit the bag and slid into the bedding underneath and be absorbed, like it's supposed to. Meanwhile, I need to google "solid duck shit" or "decent duck diet" and see what can be done if anything. Don't ducks shit like chickens, only bigger?
Little, managable piles, like? I've seen neater goose shit than what Donnie's doing and it just doesn't seem right, unless ducks shit totally differently than geeese and chickens. Watch.
There'll be ONE breed of duck that shits like a geyser and that'll be the breed Donnie is. It just occured to me, too...
if this post is any indication, this is gonna be an iiiiiinteresting year, don'tcha think? Duck shit.... God help me.
Posted by: Stevie at 04:38 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
HAPPY 2007, EVERYBODY!!
Posted by: Stevie at 12:05 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
December 31, 2006
Only about a half hour left...
of 2006.
of "the year Rob....."
The roast I put in got done a little while ago. Got another coupla loads of laundry and a few other things left to do, but... I'm also tired as hell. I don't know how long I'm gonna last, nor what I may do but... I'll letcha's know if it's anything interesting. Meanwhile... back around midnight... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 11:37 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
I took Mad Wm.'s advice...
Been sleepin' alot, soakin' in the tub, paying bills online, watching TV... just kinda hangin' out.
Last night, I pulled a huge chunk of beef outta the freezer with no idea what to do with it, really.Another pot roast?
*siiigh* Then I got to thinking... Maybe cook it like a pot roast, with the potatos and mushrooms-n-shit.
But, when it's almost done, top it with cream of mushroom soup left rather thick and ring it all with green beans... lotsa green beans. Beef and mushrooms is good.
Green benas and mushrooms are also good.
Green beans and boiled potatos are also good. I think this might work. Plus, I have some of those dinner rolls that you get in the bread aisle that come in a bread wrapper and only take a few minutes to brown and I need to use them before they die. In other news, this cold seems to be backing off now, thank all that is good and Holy.
It's not gone yet, but I do feel better than I did. Now, I'm gonna go find something light to eat.
Going to the store hungry is NOT a good idea and I do have the time, since I hafta wait for the guys to get back from Home Depot with my car... Back later. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 02:52 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
December 29, 2006
Could someone please invent suspended animation so I could indulge in it at times like this?
Gawd, I feel so poopy.
*Audience shouts, "How poopy is it?"* So poopy that I didn't even think about screwing around til the last minute getting to the bank before 3, like I do every other "every other" Friday. I did finally do my nails, though... Still, my head hurts in every conceivable way up to and including a sore nose from blowing it.I even got some Puffs Plus last night.
Hell, I was even drinking hot tea yesterday. Hmmm... hot tea....
That actually sounds good again. Be right back...
*several minutes later*
Okay, I'm back. Was I saying anything remotely important?
Somehow, I doubt it. I'm feeling so worn out, drug down, slow and tired... Stupid cold. If I'm not asleep in a ball somewhere before everybody gets in from work, I have this idea about hamburgers and deep fried french fries for dinner.
Got a new 4 cup deep fryer for Christmas.
I asked for that and I'd like to try it out.
I even got the oil for it yesterday. I just don't know if I have enough energy left to get me there... Speaking of which, I'd better go do Gut Rumbles before I do flame out. Talk to y'all later... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 03:13 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
It's four o'clock in the morning, damn it...
Listen to me good.
I'm sleeping with myself tongiht.
Saved in time
Thank God my music's still alive...
Chanelling Sir Elton... And, actually, it's three o'clock in the morning.
And, Sr. was in bed with me til I got up.
But, yeah, thank God the music I love is still alive and around... Man, I love that song... Someone saved my life tonight, Sugar Bear.
Almost had your hooks in me, din'tchoo Dear?
You nearly had me roped and tied.
Alter bound, hypnotized
Sweet Freedom whispered in my ear
"You're a butterfly and butterflies are free to fly, fly away, high away, bye bye..." And... that's all without looking up the lyrics. I learned those words when I was just a kid.
(And, no, not last week.) I think maybe I'd better go see if I can find EJ's Greatest Hits, volumes 1 and 2 on CD.
I used to have the albums.
I miss 'em, too.
Miss singing with 'em. I remember when rock was young.
Me and Suzy had so much fun.
Holdin' hands and skimmin' stones.
Had an old gold Chevy and a place of my own.
But the biggest thrill we ever got
Was doin' a thing called the Crocodile Rock.
While all the other kids were rockin' 'round the clock,
We were hoppin' and boppin' to the Crocodile Rock..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Say, Candy and Ronnie, have you seen them yet?
Oh, but they're so spaced out.
B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets
Oh but they're weird and they're wonderful.
Oh Bennie, she's really keen.
She's got electric boots, a mohair suit.
You know I read it in a magazine.
B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daniel is travellin' tonight on a plane.
I can see the red taillights, headin' for Spain.
Oh and, I can see Daniel wavin' Goodbye.
God, it looks like Daniel.
Must be the clouds in my eyes..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Y'okay.
Wass'up widdis?
Why am I having an Elton John concert in my head?
And, is John Lennon gonna make a "surprise appearance"? Or maybe David Bowie?
Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes....
*grin* Ya know what song I haven't heard in AGES? A Well Respected Man by the Kinks, I think. "And, he's oh so good.
And, he's oh so kind.
And, he's oh so healthy in his body and his mind.
He's a well respected man about town.
Doing the best things so conservatuvly..." That what I remember of the lyrics.
I can still hear it being sung.
My Mom had that 45 when I was really little.
The label was orange. Oh, and remember the Beatles 45 labels?
They looked like yin and yang done in yellow and orange. I liked the Motown label too.
Hell, I like Motown itself.
Motown and that disco/soul/70's music... *coupla minutes later* Ya know what?
I had a reason/point for sitting down here to write and... this wasn't it. Big surprise, huh? Though, I must admit, that this *points up at previous paragraphs* has been more interesting than what my point was... which is "politicians", kinda. See, I seem to have annoyed a friend of mine yesterday in what I said about the three dead celebrities, specifically Ford.
Then, Reagan. So, I thought I'd better explain... It's not so much this country I was dissing because of who ran/runs it.
I have other reasons to do that, if I were of a mind to.
But, even though I feel that way, I don't say too much about it, other than to point out, remind, and remain pissed about the way Nam vets were treated when I was a kid.
And, truthfully, that whole deal was the genesis of my "lack of respect for" this country. I mean, I love it, yeah.
But, it also needs it's collective ass kicked for the shit it's done to it's own, let alone everybody else on the goddamned planet EXCEPT FOR those towel-headed assholes who flew planes into buildings and the like.
(And, about that... that we didn't begin on September 12, 2001 to make those murderin' cocksuckers sorry was the ultimate "See what I mean? Damn." example EVER...) Maybe I just love this country enough to expect better, I don't know. But, when you shit on your own vets and let people like Bin Laden have any kind of repreive lasting longer than about 10 minutes after he pulls a stunt like 9/11, you're just not gonna garner much respect from me.
Sorry. Not to mention the fact that "this country" locks up people for smoking a friggin' WEED and lets murderers go free.
We have a death penalty we don't use.
We have people right here in "this country" who need help... little kids of our own who don't even have beds to sleep in when they go to sleep hungry, yet we insist on helping everybody else first.
Nice, but... damn, ya know? Who are we to go around telling anybody else how they oughta do shit when we don't even do shit the way we oughta? "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone", huh? Right. Hypocracy.
Quite a lot like lying.
A thing I hate and that politicians do more naturally than breathing. Whom do ya think that I think "this country" is? Politicians. They're what's wrong with this place.
They're who made it like it is.
They're who keeping making it worse, too. And, it does not matter one godforsaken BIT which party is in control, either because they are ALL a buncha of opportunistic, lying, side-stepping, buck-passing, money wasting, troops killing, assholes whose interest in economic health and amassed might goes no further than "their own". They lie, cheat, probably steal too and...
THEY CAN BE BOUGHT. End of story.
End of fairy tale wherein they are our "Fearless Leaders", doing what's good for this land of ours. They can be bought, therefore "owned". And, if even "regular" people allow themselves to be "owned" in any other way except owned by a love they share with someone (and sometimes even that one way doesn't work out too well, huh Rob?) then they're pretty much useless, as far as integrity and their word meaning a damned thing goes. That's bad enough. But, when it's the people who're running this country, that's just so damned "bad", I can't even think about it. So, I try not too. Which is why when Reagan died, the uproar annoyed me. I mean, come on... the guy was 200 years old.
He had no memories left in his head.
He was completely helpless and it was a shame when he died, when he got free of that condition?
Please. And, again... I don't pay much attention to this shit, but wasn't there some little deal about him trading arms for hostages? *raised eyebrow* So, he wasn't any worse or more wonderful than other dude whose done the job and I just don't see where they're to be so revered and their death lamented upon any more than someone like John Belushi or Sam Kinison's deaths were. Hell, at least Sam and John made people feel GOOD.
They made you laugh and forget how badly the stupid politicians were (and still are) screwing things up.
And, yeah John died a senseless death, but at least he didn't take an entire country full of people along for the ride when he made HIS stupid decision like politicians do every day. And, now that I'm thinking about SNL, we don't need to have a huge hooraw over Ford dying.
Chevy Chase is still alive.
And funnier.
And, less dangerous to the country as a whole than any politician. So see, I wasn't picking on the US.
I feel sorry for the United States. It's a country full of some really good people, like say... Darrel Buschkoetter and Sr.'s boss and Bruce Springsteen (the early years) and my Dad and Visladog and it has works by God in it like gorgeous mountains and lakes and eagles and cats and horses and calves and some damned good dogs. It doesn't deserve to be drug through the mud, have it's name worldwide known as "Hypocrtical Bully" or whatever they do call us. This country doesn't deserve to be so many poker chips in a political poker game. We don't deserve that and no matter who we elect, it always becomes more of the same.
And, that happens because that way, that system, is so firmly entrenched in Washington DC.
It's historic.
It's the way things are done.
And, either the FNG's go with the flow or they go home. There's too much money being made by those bastards for them to allow any changes being made. And, to hell with us and the US in the meantime. And, that's why I have no respect for politicians nor do I give a shit when they die. It's allll about them and the state we're in and whatever part they played in getting us here. And, jeez, it's not like I said they should all go to hell or anything.
(But, now that I think of it... *wry grin*) Anyway...
I probably wouldn't be very nice to a politician on my best day and yesterday wasn't that, by a long shot. Today is better.
The cold is relaxing a little.
Or, I'm getting used to it, one... Whatever. Also, and just by the way, my own Dad thinks I'm insane when it comes to politics.
I pretty much like whoever the cuter one is and have no idea about any of it and I can hear his hair falling out when it comes up. Which is also why I don't usually get into this shit. I look at it all, from a distance, as a necessary
Posted by: Stevie at 05:08 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
December 28, 2006
Oops, missed one...
Here's the real number one dead celebrity of the current three.
After him was James Brown and that klutz, Ford. And, may I say, that if there's even half as much ongoing horseshit about Ford croaking as there was Reagan, I will NOT be held responsible for my actions. Who CARES?Jeezus.
Get a grip already.
Dude was 93 freakin' years old, ya know?
And, Reagan was old AND completely gonzo by the time he finally died and what?
Did everybody just want him to last forever or something?
To linger on, senseless, til the end of time? The way everybody was acting, you'd have thought so... Sometimes, especially with really old people, it's a BLESSING when they die, not a shame. And, Ford's an old fart, as was Reagan.
And, they were both politicians.
Ew. Anyway, Mike Evans was #1.
Then the Godfather of Soul, then the klutz. So, there's yer three.
Posted by: Stevie at 10:43 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Well, that was fun... really.
I got up around 4am, or so.
This cold is now migrating to my chest/lungs.
But, it also still has a hold on my nose, so right now breathing is kinda dicey.
Sr. didn't either.
So, that must mean that Jr. did it.
Jr. likes my movies.
Wow. Pretty cool. (Now for the fun part...)
When Sr. came in for breakfast... I actually made him breakfast. Bacon, eggs and toast, a cuppa hot coffee... Usually he just has oatmeal or whatever he has time for. Today, I went all Donna Reed on his ass, just because I could. Well... Donna Reed dressed like a biker's old lady, maybe...
Ain't no dress or pearls to be found here, thanks. I don't know what I feel like doing... except kicking whomever's ass gave Jr. this cold to once AGAIN pass on to me.
This makes two colds from him in about three months.
That boy needs to quit breathin' on me. Hope this one doesn't hang on (and on and on) like the last one did.
Good Gawd. Think I'll just straighten up the house and see if I do my nails today. Meanwhile... Queen Elizabeth is a total bitch. I've just re-read (again) the book, "The Day Diana Died" and the Queen does NOT come out looking too good.
In fact, she comes off looking like a stupid, jealous, heartless, senseless cuntbag, the way she acted after Diana died.
Whatta fuckin' jerk. And, I used to really like Charles.
Til he married that ugly yeti, Camilla. I still do like Fergie and I'd kidnap Prince Andrew, he's so gorgeous, if I could. I don't know what I'd do if I ever was in a position to meet these people, though. I sure as FUCK wouldn't be all grovelling and curtsey-ing and differential to 'em, I know that much.
The only two I resepct enough to even do that are Fergie and Andrew and they're the two least likely to even want that and the Queen?
I'd spit at her, she's such a bitch.
And, Charles, I'd tell him to try a Western saddle someday and maybe he'd quit falling off horses so often and I'd have to ask what Camilla had on him that he married her Fido-lookin' ass, I swear. Anyway...
I oughta go do something useful.
But, I've already done Gut Rumbles and everything else pales by comparison...
(as does my enthusiasm for the other tasks, whatever they may be). Endless housework or tedious nailwork. What a choice...
*laff* I'll be back later. Y'all take care. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 10:06 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
December 27, 2006
What do ya get when you cross...
being me, first off, then, a handful of warm, dark turkey meat, a soak in the tub and two Nyquil gel caps?
You get to sleep for about 12 straight hours. Which is exactly what I did. I didn't get the cookies done til after 3p.But, I did get them done, yay. Then, I ripped out a sizable chunk of deep thigh turkey meat, nuked it a coupla minutes, ate that, soaked in the tub (and fell asleep) for a while, then went to bed. I didn't even get a chance to pick up my book, let alone read any of it.
I was out. I've been up about an hour or so now and I still feel like I'm mostly asleep. The good news is that my left sinus no longer hurts.
It no longer works either, but I suppose that's beside the point when the "arrow in my face" feeling is gone. The other good news is that I did manage to take care of Gut Rumbles while I waited for one of the batches of cookies to get done.
Man, if I had not done it, then fell alseep like I did, it woulda pissed me right off to have missed a day.
Fuck that noise. The cool thing is, I was so tired and "ick" by then, I didn't really remember too well just what I'd posted.
I knew it was right.
I hadn't screwed up any of the tiny bit of typing I do.
But, when I checked it out when I first came down here, it was like, "Oh, cool. These are good ones..."
Even got a comment on each one from Cat...
*grinning* *coupla seconds later, after sitting here thinking about him and smiling*
I love Cat...
He is so cool.
On every level, too...
God, I'm glad I know him.
Thanks, Rob...
(Yet again.) Meanwhile...
the house is still (mostly) clean.
As far as I know (knocks on skull in lieu of wood), I don't hafta go anywhere but to the store today.
And, I don't even hafta do that til after midnight, so far.
Whatever the hell the coupla things were that I thought of last night, plus George's creamer for his coffee, ain't no reason to rush right out or anything.
But, knowing my luck, someone or something will do do something that'll trigger an "urgent" run needing to be made.
Probably right after my head explodes from the pressure of the cold/sinus thing, whatever that is. *siiigh* Maybe I'll go find a season of Friends I haven't seen recently and go bundle up in a blanket, watch that, and do my nails.
After I find something to eat.
Eggs, maybe?
I dunno... If I could have anything in the world to eat that I wanted right now, I'd have... something "made by someone other than me".
Know what I mean?
A peanut butter and jelly sandwich would be like a lobster tail with melted butter to me right now, if somebody else made it so I didn't have to. And now I'm thinking that maybe I'll nuke a coupla potatos... seven to ten minute "baked" potatos.
Lotsa salt, a ton of "I can't believe it's not butter"... Oh, God yeah.
That's it.
That's the ticket. And, oh Lord... I have Fordhook lima beans out there, too.
Yeah, baby... garlic beans are in my immediate future. Start them first, maybe start looking for today's GR post, go start the potatos nuking, have 'em both finish at the same time... Yeah.
Nuked potatos and garlic beans.
The Breakfast of potheaded Champions... And, before I start drooling on my keyboard, I'm outta here. Back later. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 06:48 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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