July 22, 2004
Holy Hot Shit!!!!
Yayyyyy!!!Update about 4 minutes later...
Okay, so I'm a Beatle-week (8 days... a week?) late.
Gimme a break. *grin*
Posted by: Stevie at 12:29 PM | Comments (15) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
I am sooo goin' to hell...
But, this is funny as BALLS!!! Odell is PERFECT!!!! There's no way he could have been written better. He is such a natural... rotfl
I laughed my ass off over the first one. The second one is downloading now.Yvonne pointed it out... thanks, Hon!!! Plus, I'm not sure what this may mean, if anything, buuuut... when I was at the grocery store a little while ago I bought a solid rubber ball. It fits nicely into my hand. It's also hot pink with a big ol' smiley face on it. It's sitting right over top of the computer, grinnin' at me. Update about an hour later...
While the second one was finishing loading, I took a peek around where Yvonne found this... It's Melly's place. Wow... she is COOL, too. That figures. I know of her from Yvonne and Jett. I should have gone there LOTS sooner. She writes really well, she's funny, she's pretty, her son is a doll, her Dad is drop-dead GORGEOUS... just WOW. Y'all oughta go check her out...
(her Dad is a few posts down, ladies...) *grin* Oh, and that second video? Ow, man.... poor bass-tid.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:32 AM | Comments (20) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 21, 2004
Yes, yes, yes... Exactly!!!
Jane sent this along to me. ALL animals can do a variation of this, if ya give 'em a chance. But, horses... they are special.
So is this lady for doing this... and the chick at the horse farm.
(Didja's get that? I was gonna make it a link, but I'm going for the "comedic timing" aspect of the humor right now...)
About the first article... This is a quote from it:
“I tell my clients if you learn to negotiate with a 1,000-pound animal, you can learn to work with a 200-pound man,” Keller said.
Possibly.
However, she needs to also mention the fact that horses make lots more sense than most men... er, I mean PEOPLE. And, about the second one: IT'S ABOUT DAMNED TIME!!! I've only been doing it this way for... (Gawd, I hate math) 32 years. Being sneered at the whole way, too, I might add. But, I kept doing it. I always have said that I was a "horseman", not a "cowboy", trying to make a point. But, REAL cowboys ARE horsemen, or are becoming horsemen. It's the pseudo-cowboys, a.k.a. "hotdogs" I wasn't wantin' to be lumped in with. Animals really are sooo very much more than most people even care to consider. It's sad, the way animals are thought of. And, people are WRONG about that, too. They'll see... we'll ALL see someday. Hopefully at least one day before it's too late.
Posted by: Stevie at 06:37 PM | Comments (17) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
I don't feel like the same person as yesterday, again...
Thank God.
And Dad, Jane, Paul, Amy, Mad Mikey, Tuning Spork, Peter, Snowball, Wes, Jaydee, Cait and Ted.... and Dan, too, 'cause for some reason, I've felt the equivalent of his hand on my head, just resting lightly on the top to comfort, since this whole thing got started. (If anyone in there has a blog link that I didn't use, let me know and I'll change that in a hurry, okay?)
could just see that a few of the regulars, like Mad
William, Mad Mikey, Tuning Spork, D.udderson, et al
don't think I suck because of it... the worst thing I
feel about me *period*... it'd maybe make it easier to
believe inside of me, in that deep dark place, that it
really isn't my fault, like you and Eric said...." I'm seein' it... oh, Lord am I seein' it... Thank you... *tearin' up again, but in a GOOD way for a change* So, I got an email, sent an email and talked to Dad. Then, George and Eric talked me into going with them up the road to where "we're" taking down a barn and moving it here, to the farm. Bill is taking the shell of the building and HE, of all people, suggested to Eric that maybe we'd like to dismantle "5 or 6 stalls for your horses". *WOW* He's letting us take over the old parlor for the horses. AFTER he told his son's "girlfriend" (Kim widda ski-bump schnozz) "NO" when she wanted to do that last year. *WOW* So, we went to the barn. THEY dismantled. I procured... many, many old books. I found 65 (yes, sixty-five!!!) old books in what must've been a bedroom in the barn. The first one that caught my eye was one about O.J. Simpson from back when writing books about him was a good thing. (Let's don't get me started on THAT whole deal. I like the guy, I don't care who says he did what...) Aaaanyway, I saw that and an hour later, there were 62 books in the back of the car and I was sitting cross-legged on the ground reading three others. I was in HEAVEN. I also met a toad. A toad who was sitting in a plastic cup. He was in his cup inside the room where I found the books. I'll admit, I froze for a second, until my brain could assimilate what my eyes were reporting, but it was... a live toad in a plastic drinking cup. Okaaaay. Cool, even. Since the barn is to be MOVED, thus "destroyed", I moved HIM. Took him out into the field and hung with him for a few, til he hopped off. Didn't even get peed on. He seemed happy. We got home, after making a quick stop for cat food and cigarettes and everybody had an ice cream sandwich or two for dinner. Weird, yes, but nobody was really wantin' anything else and I sure wasn't in a "cooking" frame of mind myself. It's almost like I was perfectly balanced between the cat and the books. Then, I got back on here and Spork gave me a loving little shove offa that fence onto the "good" side with a huge comment... *smile* Yeah, I had just told Amy that he was one of the ones whose possible reaction to my "sins" had me anxious... and... there he was. Mad Mikey, too, that sweetheart... I didn't do much on here right then. I wrote back to Spork, answered Mikey and the others in the comments and talked to Jane for a few minutes. Then, I took a handful of books and went to bed. (So far, I've read about 6 of the "Peanuts" books, "The Cricket in Times Square" and "The Mouse and the Motorcycle" and "James at 15". I haven't seen these books since I was a kid! But, I had a LOT of these then and re-reading them now is like being handed back a chunk of my childhoood... the good part. Hell, I even found a Partridge Family paperback... I'll list 'em in the extended entry for anyone who cares to see what they were. There's even one by Vince Lombardi. It sounded inspirational, so I brought it home, too... So weird. God takes my cat one day, then turns around and has me find the original paperback of "Born Free" (among others) the very next day. And, Dad... I even found two of those "Eggbert" books like Mom had when I was a baby... you know, those cartoons of a baby in the womb making silly remarks? Yeah. Two of those, but not THEE one you guys had... I remember that one, too..) Got up this morning and only cried once, for a minute or two about Snort... that was her name. (She'd had respiratory trouble since birth, plus "Snort" was a Banana Split, so it worked for me...) I stopped that pretty quickly, though. Between the comments that had come (and the ones since) and these books... ahhh. I truely do feel better already. For who that cat was to me, this is nothing short of a miracle, I gotta tell ya. And, the weirdest things are going on with my other cats... Bret has taken to perching on my shoulder, she fell asleep there a while ago AND she seems to have a death-wish happening. First she ran right into my shin-head first-and almost killed herself (and broke my leg... lol), then she somehow got her arm right where I was about to step and I almost broke her front leg... the dipshit... lol. She was fine. I didn't actually step down, just did a kind of hoppy/save move. Then, my other cat with the respiratory trouble was sitting on the back of the pooter last night. I looked up at one point and when I saw the tips of ears, I almost stopped breathing for a second... then I stood a little and looked and saw who it was. So, between her and Bret, I've got my shoulder and the computer covered... with cats again YAY!!!! Then, there's Norman... I don't know what's up with him, but he will not leave me alone. Not that he's bugging me, but he's just constantly rightthere, meowing at me to be petted. Now, he's always a sweetie, but he's a Tomcat... an outside/inside (outside first, because it's his normal priority...) cat who, while he likes being petted, cannot be seen as being "pussy", as it were, and usually has that "cat attitude" thang going on. He was my first "project cat" on this farm. What that means is he originally came off this farm, not from me. He "found" me one day when he was but a mere bit of fluff. He came staggering into the driveway, crying, eyes glued shut, starved, flea ridden... just an adorable little mess. A baby. I brought him in, cleaned him up, fed 'im, fed 'im some more and more and now he's HUGE. He's a huge beautiful gray striped TOMCAT. Big ol' boy. He is a shining testament to what a little love can accomplish. It's almost like he's wanting me to focus on the good I've helped do, not the failures. Then, there's the whole deal with the stalls. We only have two horses, yet Bill's letting us make 5 or 6 stalls. When Eric told me alla this, my first words were, "Does this mean we can get 4 more horses?" with a grin... Oh, and I called Soprano's again. I called yesterday, too, but I'd missed Benny. So, I talked to him this morning. Bottom line, the kids still there. BUT, he got lectured (by a pissed off Italian guy, mind you) and he got his hours cut, he's only doing deliveries on Monday's now and when I mentioned him ever coming here again, Benny piped right in with, "There'll be no problems with THAT, I promise you." Sooo, we'll see. If there ever is... well, I've got a pretty BIIIIG mouth and I ain't scared a no "paisans" anyway, so we WILL have a problem if he does show back up, especially if he has any mischief in mind. Then, there's Ted. Yeah, our own Rocket Jones. He, in an email, let yet another of my passing high school fantasies come true... He's asked me to be a cheerleader for his fantasy football team. Like, WOW, ya know? (/Valley Girl accent) Really, it IS cool beyond words and I of course said "Oh, HELL yeah..." In the meantime, I'm finally feeling like cleaning the house again, which is good, it's "normal" for me and my lil terrorist buddy STILL ain't got here. So, what was with the tracer round last week, I wonder? Damned if I know... So, I'mina go start cleaning, then, while the guys are deconstructing the barn, I can make dinner and just hang out in the house, reading my childhood again. Sounds good to me... Thank you, everybody, for getting me back here so fast. And, yes, I can now think of my goats without the horror show. The cats and dogs, too. THAT is a gift I can't even hope to repay... but if I ever can, if there's ever any way to, you just say the word, any one of you. And now, the list of gifts I found yesterday....
Posted by: Stevie at 05:27 PM | Comments (21) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 20, 2004
Hey Dad....
Ya know how I tend to blame myself when certain people I know die? Well, about the only person I do that with anymore is Andy Harris and even then, somebody, I forget who (probably Paul, maybe Andy's son, Rich) came up with this really excellent point about the whole thing, proving to me once and for all, unarguably, that Andy's death wasn't my fault. I reeeally wish I could remember what that point was, because maybe it would apply now and in the other cases I'm about to cite.
I'm hoping that by finally exorcising these things, telling the world, as it were, just what a despicable fuck I am for what happened in these cases that maybe, just maybe, I can finally start to believe I'm wrong about that... you know. How horrible I really am? These things eat me ALIVE. I ask God every time they cross my mind to please make it stop, I'm sorry, please help me... and he usually does. But, now... every time I'm not sitting here typing, either doing a post or IM-ing, I can't get past all these things this time. The list is officially too long now and I really need forgiveness. I'm just not sure whose. If mine, I'm not sure HOW. Not even Stephen King, book or movie, keeps it away. Only contact is doing that this time. And, slightly (safely?) distant contact with people, at that. If there is any way to minimize the tears, it's by other forms of communication than face-to-face. Right this second, close contact with even Eric, maybe especially Eric because he's who he is to me, it just makes me fall apart all over again. Hell, even this way is killin' me, but I have "lucid" periods, at least, this way, where I do stop crying (tears as big as horse turds *smile*) for a few minutes. Anyway... every time something like this, fatal like this, happens to one of my animals, I wind up re-living every other one who has died since back when I was at Wellacrest and had to get rid of my dogs. A part of me hates Wally for that. That, with the dogs, I do NOT forgive. Him, or me... so far. That's why I decided to do this. With most things that bug me, once I vent it here, it either goes away for a good long while or it goes way for good. I'm praying for "for good" this time. Holy shit. It just occured to me that this, what I'm hoping to achieve, might be called a "catharsis". So, I looked it up in my handy-dandy American-Oxford and lo! and behold, it's the third definition... "3. the relieving of a neurotic state by reenacting an earlier emotional experience..." Yes. That's exactly it. So, while I wait for my beloved to finish making his morning rounds in his quest to find his clothes, coffee, radio and self so he can go milk, I'll explain the manner in which I'm gonna do this. Usually, when I'm writing, it's not to any specific person. Depending on what I'm talking about, I do have a person or two in mind, maybe, especially if I know what they look like. But, for the most part, unless I start a sentence with yer name, it's "to" whomever. This time, for me to feel as safe as possible, I'm going to do this as if I'm talking to Dad. That's for several reasons, not the least of which is, while Dad doesn't share my belief that animals are cooler than people, he does understand it in me and does, somehow, find ways to make me end up giggling. Plus, "dad-hugs" have the power to make the hugest pain diminish, and my God do I need one of them now. I can remember once, when I was a kid, a dog of mine got hit out on Greenwich Street and I went nutso. I wanted to put a huge ad in the paper telling whoever did it "Great job, you dog murderer!" and my Dad made me laugh then too. I forget his exact words, but it was the first time I ever heard the phrase "brain the size of a hamster pecker" used in a sentence. His point being that the (probably) old lady who hit the dog had a brain no bigger than that in the first place and in the second, therefore, would not get the point. So, telling this to Dad, with the door open to anybody else who has a thought on the subject, of course, seems like the thing to (quit EXPLAINING, damn it and) do.*deeeep breath and a handful of tissues*
Posted by: Stevie at 05:27 AM | Comments (19) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 19, 2004
Well, here it is...
I kinda knew there'd just haaaave to be something horrid to deal with soon. I just didn't expect it to be SO soon... or awful.
Earlier this evening, while Eric and I were riding, a guy here ordered dinner from Soprano's, a pizzaria up the road. When the stupid little lying bastard delivery driver got here to deliver Rick's dinner, he ran over one of my cats. Twice. Then fuckin' LIED ABOUT IT!!!!! In front of witnesses, even, the dickhead. I'd love to say "I don't beLEEVE this shit", but I'm afraid I most certainly do. It's ALWAYS some damned thing, is it not? I know I have a half a ton of cats, but, fuck... ya know? It doesn't make this any easier. Doesn't make my heart break any less. This cat was the one who spent 90% of her time on my shoulder while I'm here at the pooter. If she wasn't on my shoulder, she was on the back of the pooter, sleeping. I stood up for her, though. When George told Eric and they both came and told me, I asked a few questions, then called Soprano's. Well, I actually called DOMINO'S first, because that's where the lying little fuck told George he was from, but then Eric went and asked Rick where he'd ordered from and we found out it was Soprano's. And, yes... Soprano's, as in has pictures of Tony Soprano and the rest of the cast all over the walls. Italian Soprano's... I like that and it does have a bit of bearing on the outcome, here... First thing I asked was "Who did it?" Pizza delivery guy. "From where?" He said Domino's. "Did he stop?" Nope. "I'm calling Domino's...." I'll be calling them again tomorrow night at the same time to apologize yet again for the confusion, even though the manager of Domino's and I had pretty much figured it out by the time we hung up. I just wanna say sorry for the mess one more time. He was really cool about the whole thing. I heard him over the phone. He called his two drivers, "Hey, you two! Get over here... Either of you guys run over a cat on a farm tonight?" I was impressed with his attitude. I'm glad I stayed calm where I discussed it with him... really. 'Bout that time, Eric comes back with "Soprano's" and I called them. The way the guy who answered was acting, even giggling once which I jumped his shit for HARD, I figured I was being given the business. Not this time, Goddamn it. I hung up from them the first time, with the guy on the phone saying he'd call the owner NOW for me. In the meantime, I called the PD to ask what I can do next, when these goombahs blow me off, if they do. (I was PISSED.) The dispatch offered to send a cop here, but I told him that was more than enough, that I really just needed to ask a question. I, even then, felt like a dork calling the cops over a friggin' CAT, but it's MY friggin' cat and I ain't gonna just let it go... So, he said he'd have a cop call. Somewhere in this chunk of time, it did occur to me and I did say outloud to both George and Eric, that yes, I did know it could be lots worse and that if this is the karmic price I have to pay for all the good I've gotten lately, so be it, I'll pay it, but not quietly. I thanked God it wasn't Eric or my Dad (which I DID think it was for a brief moment, from the looks on Eric's and George's faces when they were walking up to tell me) or one of the mommy cats with kittens... I couldn't presume to choose which cat it 'should have been', but I did say "Of all the cats to kill..." The one who LIVED on yer shoulder, loving you every second of the day... it just sucks. Meantime, they got the horses put up and we all went to Soprano's SANS Pusser Club, I'm proud to say. Didn't even cross my mind, except to occur to me that, for the first time, I truely didn't have the raging urge to have it in my hand. Odd. But, anyway, we went there. I went in first, waited til the one customer left, then announced, "I'm the one whose cat was killed. Call the owner again because I'm staying right here til something gets DONE." Guy picked up the phone and started dialing. Good boy. Another wormy little fuck, who was then mopping the floor, owns up to being the driver, then proceeds to keep lying about EVERYTHING, up to and including George smelling like beer (he doesn't drink) and BILL having told him (the driver) that the way was clear of cats. Such bullshit I haven't heard since my last conversation with Jon... Jesus. He even yells, "Hey, I OFFERED him a free pizza!", as if that fixes everything. I snorted at him and said, "Let me guess... with cat-meat topping, you lying little psycho?" Mean while, the owner finally answers. Seems he's dealing with his own hit-and-run, he tells me, apologizing for being hard to get hold of. "My car was hit in front of my house... a hit and run." Me: "What a coincidence. Your car, my cat. You sure that wasn't your driver, too?" Benny seems like a stand-up fellow. First he said he wasn't very sure how much longer this idiot was gonna be working for him, THEN he said later he'd "handle his driver his own way", which I looooved the sound of. Mind you, he said that of his own volition. I hadn't made any suggestions about how to 'handle' it, so it wasn't like he was 'correcting' me about who'd do what. He just said it. "I'll handle that driver my own way." I was so relieved at Benny's attitude, I started to cry right on his phone, in the store.... jeez. He wants me to come back to Soprano's tomorrow to talk to him about it all and even offered to get me a gift certificate to a pet shop to get a new cat... lol, rueful, yes, but a laugh.... Benny said he'd been here too long, with too hard won a reputation to have this kinda shit going on. Praise God he sees it that way. I am gonna go there tomorrow, if for no other reason than just to shake Benny's hand for acting like a MAN about it all. I told him on the phone that all I wanted was a little honesty and HONOR about it and I sure wasn't gettin' any from the driver... I got it from Benny, though. He really did make me feel better. So did the dispatcher for the cops when HE called back to apologize for a cop not having called yet. First thing he said was, "I'm so sorry about your cat, but..." then explained how the guys had gotten busy on other stuff and how late was too late for one to call and I told him this story. He laughed and said, "Ya did good, then, 'cause I didn't get any calls about you." I laughed a little laugh too and told him that after I'd already called myself, I made damned sure he DIDN'T get any calls about me. I was cognizant of that, even in my rage. He told me, about three times, that if, at any time, I become dissatisfied with what's going on with this, to feel free to call back and they WILL get involved. So cool. So kind. Thank God. Now, I just miss my cat. I've lost it a few times and, as I type this, I've got full eyes again, but this helps too. Knowing that there are other people who care... thank you, you guys. Ahead of time, even. I can almost feel the hugs... (Okay... that did it... one sec...) Back... damn, I hate this. Times like this are when I most wish I was a little more like other people about this shit. A little tougher. Tell ya what, though... I promise you, I'm not missing out on one bit of the pain ya go through with having human kids. I KNOW how hard it hurts when your kid dies, or is killed. Just because my kid has four legs to your kid's two, doesn't make it any different. You people with kids are excused from believing this, but I swear, it's true. Anyway... How was YOUR night?Posted by: Stevie at 11:42 PM | Comments (24) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Wanna see Acidman's Granddog-ter?
Such a cutie! And, AND... The Acid-Dude has been consorting with a kitty!!!!!Posted by: Stevie at 02:32 PM | Comments (13) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Oh and before I get into anything else too deeply...
I guess I oughta fill ya's in the best I can about Eric and Jon's Excellent Adventure yesterday.
I suppose I oughta start by admitting that, yes, I guess there ARE times when Jon's lying can be advantageous. Like yesterday.... Well, his lying and my adamant refusal to accept it, that is. (Ummm, Paul? I seem to have broken my trackback thing again and I din't even touch it... I swear. You KNOW I'd not putz around in my template without ya...)Posted by: Stevie at 11:33 AM | Comments (18) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Oh, my achin' ass...
Not only is this entire article nothing more than specious speculation, the friggin' headline is the EXACT OPPOSITE of what the guy said in the last paragraph.
Lord, deliver us from this kinda shit, please?(And crappy weed, while Yer at it...) "Homegrown's alright with me.
Homegrown is the way it should be.
Homegrown is a good thing.
Plant the bell and let it ring..." Hydro-homegrown, these days maybe, but anyway... whose song is that?
Anyone?
(Yes, I do know... I wanna see if anybody else does. Pffft... I pulled the lyrics right outta my memory. No "googlin'" here...)
Posted by: Stevie at 11:26 AM | Comments (17) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 18, 2004
Snopes is fulla shit...
This time they are WRONG.
In fact, this is so completely stupid, I am forced to wonder if it's some kinda left over April Fool's shit. A zebra MY ASS. I don't even wanna discuss this, it's so ridiculous. And, that "click on this" to change the photos thing is really... pathetic. If anybody actually believes this one, all I can say is: If ya have any of your 'scrip left over, can ya send 'em to me? It must be some KILLER shit yer on.Posted by: Stevie at 01:34 AM | Comments (21) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
He made it...
Action is here.
Finally. He got here around 6:30/7:00pm. Even though we don't have a saddle or hackamore for him yet, we still rode both horses together for a bit. Eric rode Action bareback with a halter and two leads as reins. He did great. (Both of 'em...) Storm and Action get along fine, too, thank God. They're both geldings, but Action wasn't gelded til he was 12, so he has a little 'stud' stuff left over... like attitude. Not bad, just it's there. He was the only one doing the stamping and squealing. Storm just looked at him like he was goofy. And, oddly enough, Storm was the one who took the lead for the stream crossings and such. True, he's been here longer, but he's also got sight problems, so it was kinda cool. Kinda like 'the blind leading the FNG'. But, truely, they're both excellent horses and I thank God Himself that we were given the opportunity to know and have them both. Neither Eric or I can quite believe this yet. The whole time we were riding together, we kept saying, "Do you believe this?" and, "Would you have ever believed when we were at Wellacrest that we'd ever own two horses?" Nope. Truth be told, when I was at Wellacrest, I had money, but I was miserable. Now, we don't have money, but we're both happier than we ever thought we'd be. Ever. With each day that goes by, I'm finding it harder and harder to believe I'm still me and this is still my same life. It couldn't be any different than it was and still be the same one... ya know? It's almost scary. (So is the fact that I have a Cadbury Almond chocolate bar next to me and all I keep doing is looking at it. I've had a little of it, but... I think I must be more tired than I realize... lol) (Far be it for me to denigrate Hershey chocolate, living in the Commonwealth that I do, but... I'm sorry. Cadbury chocolate KICKS Hershey's ass... easily.) Anyhoo... off ta bed wit my ass. Gotta get shit ready for 'company' tomorrow and I have this really cool guy with a really cool horse to hang with, so.... Peace.And, again... Thank You, God.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:31 AM | Comments (18) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 17, 2004
I fixed it...
I stayed here.
It's for the best, believe me. My 'sitting-in-the-back' idea woulda worked, except for two things. Joisey law prohibits having having people in the bed of a pickup goin' down the road (and that's where Action is) and the load of hay they're supposed to be bringing back. Hay and fire, of ANY kind, do not play well together, especially not in the whirlwind ya get in the back of a truck. It was gonna be fun enough trying not to burn my hair, let alone that mess. Besides, George called and said that the lady who gave us Daisy, The Bigmouthed Little Damned Dog wants to come see her and take a horsey ride tomorrow, so... I'll be much happier, here alone, tweaking the houseFriggin' Jon. Well, anyway... it's time to PEEL OFF THOSE PAMPERS AND PAAAR-TAY!!! Oops.. sorry. Channelled a bit o'Robin Williams there.
Where IS that Tylenol?
Posted by: Stevie at 04:15 PM | Comments (16) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Just have to remember to keep breathin', is all...
I haven't felt like this since I was a teenager, the morning of a horse show. Excited and nerved up, to the point of nausea. Gawd....
Plus, that stupid little terrorist sumbitch STILL hasn't 'declared himself' if ya know what I mean... But, pissed off as I got for a while yesterday, it's GOT to be soon. I just want it over with. Anyway, between that and whom is involved in the thing that's got me excited, it's no wonder I feel sick. Action, that Quarter Horse I've mentioned a coupla times, is supposed to be here TODAY. As long as nobody fucks up we- Eric, me and JON THE LIAR GUY(!)- are supposed to be picking him up around 4:00pm, give or take a half hour either way. Now, what pissed me off yesterday is Jon again... of course. He's the one who "found" Action. He delivers hay to the people who own him and when they said they wanted a good home for Action, he told them about us and the rest is.... tormented history. Let's just set aside the fact that, ORIGINALLY, this was supposed to ba a birthday present for Eric. And, that his birthday was last month. We'll just toss aside all THAT bullshit aggravation aside and deal with the past two days. (And, remember, this is only ONE of the overheated powder kegs I'm sitting on... Lord, my ass must be wider than I think... lol) The lady who owns the horse called me last week and asked me if I thought Eric might still be interested in Action. I told her, "Hell, I KNOW he is." and giggled. The upshot being that they'd had to put a dog to sleep (we all knew that was gonna happen), then, unexpectedly, Bob's Dad died. (Bob her husband, not Bob the chicky-chaser from here...) So, before they went to Florida to take care of that, Bob told Barbara she may as well call Eric, because he still wanted Eric to have Action, but he just couldn't bring himself to be the one... ya know, to make the call. Poor guy... Jeez. So, the way we (Barb and I) left it was that we'd make the arrangements to come get Action and I'd call her Friday (last) night and let her know the details. (Now, I hafta run outside and help Eric with a coupla cow-related thangs, so, I'm gonna draft this and I'll be back shortly... in case this gets posted at some bizzare time, like say, midnight...) Well, Christ. THAT was hot. And, I mean temperature-wise, not "sexy". Imagine, if you will, an arctic-type mole who is suddenly thrust into the heat and glare of Pizmo Beach... same reaction for me, going out of the dimly lit, air-condition recesses of my house at this time of day. The horror. My eyes! and all that, ya know? Plus, with my hair, sweating is instaneous. Feels like it weighs a ton. Whew... *Ahhh, yes, Glasshoppa. You have now discovered reason why you tend to ride horse at dusk. Velly good.* Aaanyway... Jon was RIGHT THERE when I talked to Barbara last night. He HEARD me tell her everything was set. Now, what was 'set', was this... He is supposed to use the-Bob-who-lives-here's trailer, IF Kim (the little chippy) gets it back when she's supposed to. If not, we were SUPPOSED to be able to use Jon's bosses trailer as a backup. So, after I get done talking to Barbara, Jon, the fuckhole, decides to tell me that his saddle and hackamore (which I again doubt the very existence of) won't be available for Eric til Monday, which pisses me off a bit. It's already supposed to have been here by now, about 3 times. Then, after I get out in the fields, I'm talking to Eric (by radio) about what time we need to leave by if Kim fucks up so that we'd have time to get Jon's bosses trailer and still be on time, when I get informed that Jon's bosses trailer is no longer gonna be available, after I'd just made Eric make JON check to be sure it still was yesterday! I freaked. Lord Gawd, I'm surprised I didn't launch me and Storm halfway to the moon, I was so livid. Like, okay, what the fuck else can Jon be lying about? I wanted to call the third guy that we'd hafta pay, right then. We didn't though. Eric is CONVINCED Jon won't let him down on this one. How he can know that, with Jon's record, is beyond me, but the lying dipshit has already been here this morning and told Eric he's ready when we are, but... *shudder* Oh, and the best part? I do NOT, under any circumstance or for ANY reason, wish to be TRAPPED in any kind of small space, like say, a PICKUP, with this moron right now. (Jon, I mean.) I simply will NOT be able to survive having to be that physically close to someone I detest to such a degree, especially when I MUST keep my mouth shut tight right now. Well, Mr. Dip-in-the-truck-and-SPIT-ON-THE-FLOORBOARD (ew) has solved that problem for me by (allegedly) sadly declaring a moratorium on smoking in this particular truck. It belongs to his boss and, allegedly, HE doesn't want it smoked in. Fine. I'm sittin' in the back, then. Me, my Walkman, Stephen King, my smokes and my coffee. Precludes me from having to be around him, anyway. Have I mentioned how MUCH I wanna make this dork bleed? IF IT RAINS, I'm sitting in the back. Be hard to light cigarettes, I suppose, but, it'd still be a huge improvement over being in the cab near him. All I want right now, is to get Action here, unloaded, and be done with superfluous humans. Of which Jon is several. Bottom line? Life itself is full up enough of bullshit, aggravation, strife, pain and tears. Any of that that I can plainly see is needless, I do away with. Why is that so hard to understand? Why does that make me a "bad" kind of person? Why is it that THAT is considered 'abnormal' somehow? I think it's much morePosted by: Stevie at 12:00 PM | Comments (19) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 16, 2004
If you appreciate dry British wit...
And, writing that can properly be called "word artistry", then go here.
I hafta warn you though, under NO circumstances should you click that link and begin to read with anything even resembling liquid anywhere near ya. Don't be drinking anything or even thinking about being able to swallow. I've read this whole site before and STILL he made the grape freezie-pop I'm eatin' ooze right outta my forehead, like purple sweat, from laughing so hard. Not even George draggin' my achin' ASS to Delaware with him next Friday for his custody shit is dimming Mil's hilarity in the slightest. This guy is fuckin' FUNNY... Dad, you in particular will love reading him... So would Norman, 10 to 1.Posted by: Stevie at 03:26 PM | Comments (18) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Damn, Dad... I think I just dislodged an organ (and it mighta been Eric's!)...
In response to that 'tarot test', my Dad posted the following...
"I'm Star. Star seems to be a good-lookin' woman. I'm conflicted... Maybe I should tell Fred my true feelings for him. Maybe you should start calling me Mom... (Wait a minute... In your case that may not be such a good idea.) When I come over next time in my black dress and high heels, you could call me Sis... (or you could call the cops.) I couldn't be a woman... I'd be such a slut..."Posted by haveayen at July 16, 2004 02:52 AM I'm beginning to believe that it IS entirely possible to die laughing, 'cause I'm tottering on the ragged edge of passing out from lack of O2 right about now... Now, do y'all see where I get it? "It", of course, being the light... okay, moderate... oh shut up, FINE... TOTAL dane bramage... I come by it honestly.
(And completely...) Yer insane, Dad and I love ya to death!
*still giggling, snorting and wiping eyes*
Posted by: Stevie at 10:52 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
I think I invented something really good for dinner last night...
Well, I know I made something good. The 'thinking' part goes with the 'invented' part, actually.
(Why do I now hear Rocky Balboa saying "I invented that..."? in my head? lol) Anyway, I got the idea from Stephen King, of all people, out of his book, "Hearts in Atlantis". That book is four stories in one. In the first one, a guy named Ted makes a 'casserole' dinner for himself and his downstairs friend/neighbor, Bobby Garfield. Ted's is hotdogs, baked beans and something to do with horseradish. Mine was a little different. I used four cans of Hormel chili with beans, an entire pack of hotdogs and most of two bags of grated cheddar cheese. I dumped the chili into a Pyrex baking dish. Boiled the hotdogs, then cut them up into the chili. Mixed that, topped it with the sharp and mild cheddar. Covered it. Baked it at about 400* for a while, then uncovered it, bumped the heat up to 450* for a little longer, browning the cheese and viola! Dinner. Musta been good. Eric had three bowls. (Yeah, let's get "Eric"... Nah, he won't eat it. He hates everything... NOT!!!) So, did I invent that or am I just 200 years behind the rest of the planet as usual? Tell ya one thing, either way... if ya like chili dawgs (which, as we know "always bark at night")(love you, Lewis!), this is a good, quick, EASY dinner. Ooohh... onions. Might wanna try adding a few onions. Fuck.Now I'm hungry.
I do NOT need that stuff for BREAKFAST.
lmao... Geez. (I've not been awake long enough to be hungry yet... stomach, remember? Just shut up and go back into yer coma, okay?
We'll talk around, what?... 2/3:00pm, okay? (Ya fat got-damned thing...) Hey, there's an idea. Why don'tcha feed on yer own self for a while? There's enough there to keep ya busy for DAYS, ya rumblin' bee-otch.) Oh, excuse me... little side-conference there. Anyway... thank you Steve, for the idea and Lewis for the onion-inspiration. And, if I didn't "invent" this, y'all let me know, 'kay? I'm actually kinda curious...
Posted by: Stevie at 10:38 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 15, 2004
It's 3:20am, so I feel compelled to say, in response to this result...
Gee, ya THINK?
(lol)
You are the Moon card. Entering the Moon we enter
the intuitive and psychic realms. This is the
stuff dreams are made on. And like dreams the
imagery we find here may inspire us or torment
us. Understanding the moon requires looking
within. Our own bodily rhythms are echoed in
this luminary that circles the earth every
month and reflects the sun in its progress.
Listening to those rhythms may produce visions
and lead you towards insight. The Moon is a
force that has legends attached to it. It
carries with it both romance and insanity.
Moonlight reveals itself as an illusion and it
is only those willing to work with the force of
dreams that are able to withstand this
reflective light. Image from: Stevee Postman.
http://www.stevee.com/
Which Tarot Card Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla I also appreciate the awesome coincidence of the "image" person's name...
Posted by: Stevie at 03:18 AM | Comments (59) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 14, 2004
Yes, you are welcome, Philly Metro- and surrounding area...
Anytime....
A little while ago, I went riding. The sky was kinda 'iffy' looking and the second I got Storm saddled, it started to spit a little rain. We went under the branches of a tree for a minute and it stopped. I stood there, looking at the sky, trying to hear my gut's opinion, when my head reminded me that I could control this if I wanted to and I did, so I did. I kept it from raining from about 3:00pm, til it did finally let go around 6:00pm, simply by wearing a hell-hot 90 pound duster while I rode. It's a heavy, hot, water and air proof, nearly ankle length coat that is made to keep saddles dry, among other things. If I hadn'ta worn it, it woulda rained it's balls off, probably starting around 3:30/3:45pm, whenever it would have been that I was three or more fields away. BUT... heh.. I got ready for that, so it didn't happen. Sorry I couldn't keep the duster on and thus keep it from raining longer, but I hadda come in and cook dinner. Now, if ya ever need it to rain, you can just let me know. To make it rain, all's I hafta do is wash my hair and step out from under the carport. The harder ya need it to rain, the further I'll go from the house. I oughta charge by the foot for that. I hate gettin' rained on. (Posted "late" due to being drafted for a bit... sorry.)Posted by: Stevie at 06:27 PM | Comments (21) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
This is stupid...
Can someone please explain to me how such a dumb and self-contradictory sentence can make it into a news article? Aren't they read for content, as well as punctuation and shit? This sorta shit drives me nuts... sigh.
From a Yahoo news article from today...The Trojan horse is believed to have infected thousands of systems on the Internet since appearing early Tuesday, even though antivirus software and up-to-date versions of Outlook are immune to attack, according to Maksym Schipka, senior antivirus researcher at MessageLabs in the U.K. (Emphasis mine...) Now, I'm sorry, but it's gotta be one or the other. How the hell can machines that have been compromised still be called, and I quote, "Immune to attack."? Either they're infected or immune. Pick one and quit yankin' my dick, okay? Stupid "reporters".
Even stupider chick who said it in the first place...* Gawd. Feh.
I don't use Outlook in the first place.
So there... (It's still stupid, though...) Peace. (* Yes, I am aware that I didn't mention the editor. That's because I KNOW how overworked, under-appreciated and half-crazed they're made to be. Besides, shouldn't that dopey reporter have made that even dopier bitch who said it in the first place clarify it? Editors should have the right to expect ya know how to wipe yerself (as in 'write an intelligent sentence') after they've told ya where the bathroom (or, 'what the subject') is, after all... right? *crickets*)
Posted by: Stevie at 08:58 AM | Comments (21) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 13, 2004
I like this guy...
I don't know where this place is, but I do know I wanna work there. It's like real, live "Crank Yankers".
Found it over at Jett's. Thank you, Darlin'. Between you and Yvonne, this is my "find cool shit on the Web-day', I do believe... Found even more of this insanity ovah heah...Posted by: Stevie at 10:48 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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