December 05, 2003
God help me with this one...
Donnie has been 'activated' and it's reminded me of when I was in high school. Which reminded me of my stupid mom and has to do with my life to this day. It's a strange story that I nearly unloaded twice in Donnie's comments. Then, I decided to just pollute my own blog with this bizarre shit. And, I decided it would be easier to start at the beginning, rather than the middle, then backtrack it to the beginning and jump to the end, outta order. So....
One day in late September, early October 1979, I was riding my Appaloosa across the lawn at the County Vocational School when this car pulled over along the side of the highway, next to where I was. A guy I knew, Lester Shimp, got out and started bullshittin' with me. This other guy I didn't know got out, too and Lord God was he gorgeous. Little guy, about 5'8", 160 lbs, brown feathered hair, brown eyes, moustach....Man, I was gone....Lester asked if he could take Diablo (my App) for a spin and I said "Sure" and dismounted without ever taking my eyes offa Bruce. I have no idea where Lester went with Diablo, but he wasn't gone quite long enough for me. This guy was incredible. Just graduated from Woodstown, had been President of the FFA Club, was Army bound (82nd Airborne) in a short while and soooo cute.
We talked for a while and I don't remember everything anymore because of how it all turned out, but we started 'dating', if that's what ya wanna call it. What was really going on was I was tying myself to a guy who was never around and basically all I really did was write endless letters to him while he was gone. I'd like to believe that at least at first he really did like me, but I'm really not sure. All I do know for sure was that I meant it.
Here are the things that I do remember from then. 'Parking' for the first time ever. It was on Pierson Rd. in Alloway Twp. and it was fun! Heartache everytime he left. Elation beyond words everytime he came home...except the last coupla times. Babysitting at my Uncle Pat's house and setting a record that night. 8 times in less than about 6 hours. This was his first leave after boot camp. (Obviously...lol) The very first time I saw....HIM. Bruce was getting a shower and asked me to sit in there and talk to him while he showered. When he was done, first he pulled the towel into the shower with him, like he was modest or something. Then, as I was taking a sip of beer, he WHIPPED the shower curtain open and almost put my eye out. I somehow managed to coolly swallow the beer without spraying it and then liked to have died when I heard myself say "Well, I don't know if I can handle all THAT, now..."
What the hell did I know? He was the second guy EVER and he'd have made my horses jaw drop. Scary. (At first....*evil grin*)
ANYWAY....I guess I shoulda kept my mouth shut about that. Apparently, my mother hadda find out for herself.
He was the first one.
Then came the one she moved to Florida with. After that didn't work (duuuuh) and she had come home, she decided to go back down there to visit Jimmy and stopped to screw Bruce at Ft. Bragg on the way. After she'd already broken us up the first time(s) that happened. Sick woman.
Back when I first met Bruce, I also met the rest of his family. His mom and dad, his insane oldest brother, his bitchy sister, his cool sister and his baby sister. I also met his other brother, George.
Yeah...THAT George.
At the time, George was getting divorced from his first (!) wife who, it was discovered, liked (and still does) women. How this fact escaped anyone's attention when she has two lesbian sisters is beyond me. I mean, when yer 'girlfriend' out-hunts most men, ya gotta start wonderin', right? Jeez. Anyhoo, George was such a sweetie. Quiet, gentle...a really nice guy. That's how I met him and have known him so long. From dating his dopey brother. I knew George for....16 years before I ever thought of him as....date bait, or whatever. (Actually, I was thinkin' of him as a 'sanctuary' when I moved into his house in Feb. of '95)
Bruce, after fucking my mother and dumping me, started dating this insanely fat chick. Then, he fucked her mom, too, I think I remember hearing. Or else she got pissed at him for fuckin' my mom again...whatever. He dumped her and started dating the chick that he's now married to. He's been married to her for years and has lived with her, her kid AND HER MOM all this time.
Does anyone besides me think that a little strange? Now doya see why I'm so strange? Anyhow...Donnie's wife is some kinda woman. I honestly admire her courage and strength and the way she handled Donnie's going away. Makes me feel like the snivelling coward that I am about Eric travelling for Crane. However, instead of getting any of that strength from her shining example, I'm just sittin' here blubberin' over Donnie being away from her and his home myself. I remember how this part feels. And...I wasn't married to my soldier. I don't know how the fuck they do it. But, I think I'm about to learn...I feel like there could be a lesson here for me, if I can just grasp it.
Even if I don't get that big one (lesson) right away, I'm still learning things from Donnie. He's making me realize things and feel things about what's been going on in our world for a really long time now, that I've managed to avoid.
I guess I've been really lucky for a really long time. I didn't know anyone killed on 9-11 and no one I know has had to be involved in any of this shit directly.
Til now.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:22 AM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
December 02, 2003
See? I knew we were the same...
Well, apparently, blog-apples don't fall far from the blog(Daddy)-tree, 'cause we da same...
As if you were born into a world of tears, you
always tend to look at the darker things in
life. Inside you crave attention yet push away
society, and you're a hopeless romantic. Drawn
to things like the occult and mysteries, you
spend your time daydreaming of "What
If's".
What Type of Soul Do You Have ?
brought to you by Quizilla
This one is actually so accurate it's scary...
Posted by: Stevie at 10:05 AM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
November 29, 2003
This is just occuring to you?
Twice with the last 24 hrs., I have managed to surprise Paul with the depths of my silliness.
I forget what the first time was about, but Eric was in here and when Paul said I was goofy, I said it outloud to Eric, laughing. Eric said "He's just NOW figuring that out?" I told Paul what Eric said and it went back and forth for a bit.
This time, he said that my 'Bret' post about guys and hair is 'bizarre', among other things.
I'm like..."And?"
"Again...this is just occuring to you, Dear?"
lmao
Posted by: Stevie at 12:53 PM | Comments (41) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
I don't get this shit, either...
I am number 8 on the MSN search for applesause.
Applesause.
As in "Pork Chopsh and appleshaush..."
(Who said that? Little TV trivia fer y'all...)
Anyhoo..what is up with the goofy got-damned searches lately? Besides milker plugs and Jhonies (a thing I'm mighty proud to be associated with, let me tell ya...) I've found searches in Site Meter for shit like boobs, shitting, tractors, Stevie Ray Vaughan's funeral, Dwight Yoakam's crotch...and all combinations of that and more, some of which is a little scary at times...Hell, I'm even on some Yahoo search page with symbols instead of letters for 'armpit'.
Honestly...lol.
It may take me months to get the number of hits some people report getting in a day, but they're mostly all 'honest' hits, except for the ones who find me thru these silly searches.
Well, however yer gettin' here, glad ya stopped by and if ya liked what ya saw, or not, feel free to say so. (Just don't be too mean about it if ya don't like something. I'm open to different perspectives and changes, sometimes, but I'll freeze ya right out if ya show yer ass. That's the way I've always been. It may not be 'right', but it is true...)
Okay, back to Site Meter...then off to the store.
Peace on ya!!
(PEACE, not piss...)
Posted by: Stevie at 12:17 PM | Comments (45) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Growing up or growing old?
I seem to have reached a decision on something I really wasn't even aware I was thinking about.
I want Kim, the other person who has a horse here, to take Gia with her when she moves her horse outta here on Monday.
The biggest reason I feel this way is her safety. Bill bitches about both her and the goat-whom I still have not located-he keeps saying we should put Gia down simply because of her age and he also wants the goat to be gone-he smells bad (in Bill's opinion ONLY) and I don't want anything happening to her. Kim is a good young woman and likes Gia and I know she'll be taken care of even better than we could afford to do.
Plus, we're gonna be moving...it'll be less on Eric to have to do...it's just best right now, I guess.
There is one hope for my goat-that he wandered off to the back farm. Very nice people who happen to be from Puerto Rico live there and they have tons of animals, including other goats. If he is there and they want him, I've already decided they can have him. Hey, maybe they'd like the rabbits, too, if I really can't keep them....I'll hafta ask.
Anyway, I'm sorta surprised at myself that this came out so suddenly and so (seemingly, so far, anyway) painlessly. I feel no qualms at all about any of this.
On the other hand, two different people yesterday happened to want one of my cats. One of them wants a specific one and the other guy woulda took any one of 'em. That didn't happen. Ain't gonna happen, either. Outside animals are one thing, I guess, but the house animals that I spend so much time with are another matter altogether.
The only thing that's kinda 'unsettling' me about this whole thing is: am I growing up or growing old?
If it's 'up', fine...if it's old...I need to change that in a huge-assed hurry.
I don't feel old, or think old or act old. Beyond my body not being what it used to be, that is. And, even there I have a strong suspicion that it could be what it was if only I wasn't such a lazy shit.
But...voluntarily getting rid of animals?
This is odd.
Posted by: Stevie at 11:55 AM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
November 28, 2003
Alright...
Either I just ate four Tums for a heart attack or heartburn is one sneaky, ass-slammin' sumbitch.
Jesus.
I was just sitting here, reading blogs, Helen's in fact, when WHAM!!! This claw hooked into the center of my chest and radiated out in every direction.
I stood up, dropped to my knees and crawled to the bathroom and the Tums.
I ate three outta four of those chalky assed things and it seems to have backed off about 90%. I can still feel one unsheathed little cat claw in there...just thinking about blooming again.
Guess I'll go swallow that fourth Tum.
Posted by: Stevie at 06:23 PM | Comments (49) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Bret...
My God.
Mind you, it's been 6 hours since I watched "Wrestling with Shadows" and even went to sleep for a while (my butt's still draggin' from yesterday...), got up, read some more "Lives of John Lennon" and as soon as I put the book down...Bret's back. Right in the front of my mind, all gorgeous and much maligned. Even by Eric, the Wrestling Fan. Punk.
He came in while it was on and I was noticing shit I musta missed the first ten times. Like how absolutely cute Bret's nose is. Somehow, even his nostrils are sexy. And, I love those lines around his mouth. And his smile. And his hair?...don't even get me started on his hair. Lord would I love to wrap my hands in it...man...
(Several seconds later)...Anyway, I was talking about this and somehow Eric got it around to these guys and shaving. I swear to God, I have not noticed this yet, but he swears they all shave their armpits, which is bad enough, but then he goes on to say that they shave their legs too. Meaning, of course, Bret in particular. To which I am stunned to hear myself reply "Well, why would he? Bret wears tighhhhh...." I stop and look at him sitting there, listening so intently, just waiting for me to say it so he can have his revenge for the 'dog toenail' thing. So, I try for 'scientific sounding'. "Yes...he wears tights as part of the props in wrestlings fake little world..."
Eric just keeps looking at me with that one eyebrow raised..."Really?"
"Yes, damn it. Besides, why would he anyway? What's wrong with leg hair, fer Pete's sake?"
Which lead to a discussion of men and hair.
I just don't get it. I love hair on guys. Long hair, beards, moustaches, chest hair, arm hair, leg hair, crotch hair...what in the hell is wrong with any of that? It's amazing stuff. It's soft and fuzzy and warm and excellent to play in. It feels good on yer face or anywhere else it hapens to end up. Men usually have ZERO split ends. I wish I knew how they did that...But, I just love hair.
Please don't confuse what I'm talking about with Sasquatches. I don't need backs and hineys all hairy and even Robin Williams hands are pushin' pretty hard on the hair limit. Any more hair on his hands, they'd look like paws. But, he's good the way he is.
Why, guys, do you do this to yerselves? And...shaving the hair off around....the...hmmm...the family jewels is just gross. That is so nasty looking. You look like large little boys. As in, I'll betcha Mikey would loooove that look..know what I'm sayin'? Stop it. Never do that again. Please.
While your at it, you could also cease mowing down chest and arm hair, too. Do not even think about your legs. Unless, of course, you're the feature performer tonight at "The Birdcage", okay?
Body builders do this shit alla time. I understand that even less. You kill yerself to create this stunning work of art, then you deface it by shaving off all the hair. What is that about? Are y'all not getting it, here? The very idea of a hairy, well muscled chest is...is...awesome. And hairy, well muscled legs? Oh, God, give me strength.
Ya know, I'll never forget the first time I saw the video for "Hotel California". My most vivid memory of that, besides the song itself, is the absolutely gorgeous hair they all had. The "Three Dog Night" guy, too. That lead singer with the long, brown hair? Gorgeous.
I even like...and this is gonna brand me forever with y'all, but I'll even take a mullet over what the military does to guys. That's something I noticed back in high school. The (expletives deleted) recruiters always seemed to get the guys with the best hair. They'd go off gorgeous and come back bald. Oh, what I'da liked to have done to a recruiter back then. Hell, I'd still like to just smack one for all that lost gorgeous hair. Siiigh.
It's just not right. None of it. Cats should look like cats, poodles should look like recently tumble-dried balls of fluff and men should be hairy, damn it. That's all I'm sayin'. I'm not sure if I'm old-fashioned, anti-feminist or what, but...I did not hate that recent essay on the pussification of men.
I don't like what gets done to men, either. I do not want a world fulla Phil Donahues. Gawd, what a disgusting idea. Alan Alda as Hawkeye is pushing it with the 'sensitive male' thing, but there's enough balls left on him that it works. But barely.
Gim'me John Wayne. I bet he never shaved a damn thing. I can't picture Billy Jack or Buford Pusser with a can of Nair, either.
Prince Charles might shave. Wuss. I'll betcha some of my beloved "Fab Five" guys shave things, but that's fine. Hell, I'd expect them to do it, probably because of the movie "Birdcage", which I just love. But, for the most part, men shaving off hair is just...a waste of my time. I guess I don't mind lookin' at guys who happen to shave, but given a choice, I'll take the Teddy Bear, thanks.
Posted by: Stevie at 04:48 PM | Comments (47) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Quick, everybody...
Turn on A & E. "Wrestling with Shadows", the Bret Hart story is on. I'm tapng it...again.
I'm also wiping copious amounts of drool offa my chin. Woof...this guy is...awesome. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Good. He's Bret.
Gotta go....
Posted by: Stevie at 08:34 AM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
November 27, 2003
Turkeys done...
So are the potato and maccaroni salads, the coleslaw, two kinds of stuffing, corn, peas, cranberry sause, applesause, devilled eggs, mashed potatos, gravy, sweet potatos, mac & cheese, corn muffins and breadsticks.
And, the pumpkin pies and Cool Whip are in the fridge.
My back hurts.
Yeah, I forgot...I did have one minor mishap. I grabbed a bag of shredded cheddar cheese to put it back in the fridge and accidentally slung the cheese all over two kittens because I grabbed the wrong end and it was open...the dogs cleaned 'em up real nice.
Posted by: Stevie at 07:33 PM | Comments (43) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
It is strictly impossible...
To be in anything less than a good mood with John Lennon and Paul McCartney singing in yer ear.
It's the Beatles "One" CD. Man, this thing kicks ass.
God, the Beatles were phenominal. The songs, the harmonies, the beat..John's harmonica...damn.
I am profoundly grateful that they happened in my lifetime.
I miss John.
I truely hope he's at peace now.
George, too.
And, it just better not be Micky, either.
(No, I never did go for the 'obvious' choice...)
John and Micky are my guys. The others are all okay, but those two?
Mm-mm-mm.
They're my boys.
Posted by: Stevie at 03:43 PM | Comments (45) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Birdzilla is in...
House is clean. Attitude is improved. Life not sucking as hard as usual, right this second.
Haven't heard from George yet, but Jon was here and took Eric to the store for me and guess what? He got it right! All of it, even the three things I had to add by radio after they'd left. He got all the stuff on the list (not alot, just catfood, butter and Coffeemate.) Then, I added potatos, a baster, tissues and maybe one more thing and he got it all and got it all right. Wow. How often do guys do that? And, he didn't let the brownies that I forgot about burn and he finished the vinegar-cleaning of the coffeepot. I'm in awe. I said something to him about it, that he was doing great and being a real sweetheart and that I appreciate it and he says "I'm just doin' what ya asked..." To which I replied "Yeah...that's what I mean...who ARE you? Eric never listens to me..." and stuck my tongue out at 'im. Then ran... Oh yeah...I forgot to tell ya's about the other night. Let me preface this by pointing out that when the only answer a person can come up with is shooting you the bird, you just know you are, in fact, right about whatever it is yer sayin', okay...? At least in my experience.So, anyway, Mr. Istillwannaridebulls was laying on the couch watching TV. I was out here somewhere and outta the blue I hear from the living room:
"OOF!!! Aww! Damn! Stupid dog...Jesus! Ow! Man..." Sounded like a mugging or something. I just had to investigate, so I wander on in and ask "What in the hell are y'all doin' in here?" George is sitting in a chair, two of the dogs are laying on the floor trying to look innocent and Eric...he looks like...best way to describe it is in the movie "Airplane!" when the passengers are told to 'assume crash positions', they all arrange themselves in positions that look like they've already been in a crash...well, so did Eric. Between him hanging halfway off the couch and the positively scandalized look on his face, I figured he was the victim of something semi-malicious. So, I said "What happened to you?" He says "Ziggy stepped on me and almost killed me."
"Wait a minute...you wanna ride bulls and a dog makes you make sounds like that? Hell, that dog weighs 90 lbs. Bulls weigh 2000 lbs, Dude."
"Yeah, but he stuck his toenail in my back."
"A dog toenail compared to a bull horn?"
"I think he punctured my kidney."
"Bet Lane Frost wishes it had been a dog toenail jammed in his ribs that day."
"But...but..."
"Yessss?"
(Emphatic, obscene gesture accompanied by a moist raspberry...)
"Mm-hmmm...exactly." I leave to much giggling and gesturing, confident that I am, once again, correct. (Sighing, giggling and shaking my head...)
A dog toenail...honestly.
(Three days later and I'm still farkin with 'im with that one...this is just too good to let go too soon...) The goof.
Posted by: Stevie at 02:51 PM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Oh, shit, yeah!
I'm here, cleaning the kitchen and shit, getting ready to cook a turkey, fer fucksake and I completely forgot something...
HAPPY THANKSGIVING, EVERYBODY!!!! Just in case it isn't readily apparent, I am thankful for a few things. Like...Eric
Paul
George
My Dad
My animals
This blog
You guys (like Amy, Donnie, Eric, LeeAnn, Dax, Greg, Dan, Ken, Ted, Snowball, Dawn, Rob and everyone else)
My physical health
Whatever's left of my mental health
Juan Valdez and whomever invented Coffeemate
70's rock-n-roll
Love
God
Certain weeds
Outdoors
And...
(now this is gonna be weird, but it's true...)
My hair and my voice...I love singing and my hair is really getting long. There's more, but it just gets even stranger, so I'll leave it at that. Back to cleaning...singing "We Can Work it Out"...
Posted by: Stevie at 05:01 AM | Comments (48) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Wow...God must like me at least a little...
I finally found my Bee Gee's CD!!!
I've got it blasting on the Walkman as I type this...Thank You, God. I've missed these guys so much...I found the Beatles too, but these guys first...and maybe more than once. I can't explain it very well, but they just make me feel so damn good. Even when they make me cry. I just love 'em. Andy, too. He was gorgeous. And, so very sad... Thankyouthankyouthankyou, God... Gonna go sing and clean and cook, now...This may not be so bad, after all... (Fade out to the opening strains of "Massachusettes" or however it's spelled...)
Posted by: Stevie at 03:19 AM | Comments (45) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
By the way...
Hi to any dairy farmers who wind up here. I see a couple of people have gotten here by looking up Jhonies and milker plugs, both of which I know about. Cool. Are ya Wally? Would ya even admit it if ya were? To anybody? Ever? (lmao) Ahhh, don't mind me. Just bustin' some old stones...
Anyway...if you farm, I really wish you'd leave a comment..say "Hi", type an 'X'...something. And, I can't imagine who'd be lookin' up that stuff, except for farmers. Hell, if you're from Jersey, I may know you even if ya aren't Wally. Like say...if you were Phil...or Woody, or Elmer, or a Sickler or Fox or Robinson.
Ya know? (Think Woodstown High School, if ya know where that is...)
Regardless of where yer from...feel free to drop a line. Okay?
And...be careful.
Posted by: Stevie at 02:43 AM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
So...I'm into John Lennon these days...again...
And, I just finished, for about the 100th time, the book "The Love You Make" by this dude named Peter Brown. It's a good book, but all through it the author, Peter Brown, refers to himself as "I, Peter Brown.." every 10 pages like he's fuckin' Al Franken or somebody. Gets on my nerves. I mean, Christ...after about the second "I", I know who ya mean, idiot...stop with making me read yer name alla time. Pompous ass.
Now, I'm re-reading "The Lives of John Lennon" by another guy, who seems to have a shitty kinda attitude toward John, named Albert Goldman. He refers to the other guy as "Brian's intimate friend, Peter Brown..." and while my brain is absorbing that little bit of info, it's also saying "I, Peter Brown" because of his book. I would like to smack "I, Peter Brown" right upside the head for this...Gawd.
(Beating head on desk...)
Posted by: Stevie at 02:31 AM | Comments (42) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Well, what the hell...
I was gonna wait til I got done in the library to post this, but, like I said...what the hell.
I heard from George. Still don't really know what's wrong with the 'Bird, but he's towing it back and he and Eric already have plans to find and fix the problem. My first thought was fuel pump or filter, George thinks the 'brain' is dead (I believe he's confusing the car with ME) and Jon says 'timing belt'. So...we shall see. I don't really give a fuck. Whatever. As long as the car comes back (it's being towed) and is fixed (and it will be). Beyond that...whatever.
In the meantime, I asked Eric to wake me up at a certain time, earlier...way earlier, and he forgot me...again. Which led to me being in a crappy mood, which led me to drive this poor guy in Canada nuts, which led me to talking to Eric, which was good, except now I have a pounding headache, I can't stop biting my side teeth and I think Paul might think I'm fuckin' certifiable, now. (I always have been, it just that now I think he thinks so...or KNOWS so..poor guy.)
Anyway...here I am at quarter of one Thanksgiving morning and I haven't even cleaned the kitchen yet.
Guess what?
Whatever.
It'll get done, or it won't.
(Probably will...but, I'm not promising ANYTHING....ya know?)
Oh yeah...and let's not forget that I'm now an 'international' pain right in the ass.
Lovely. Jesus... It's time again, isn't it? Time for my little terrorist buddy to show up? I'll bet it is. Eric said it is. I dunno. I'll have to check back thru here to see. But, if this isn't PMS...some poor SOB is gonna catch it if shit doesn't back the fuck off real soon. If it is PMS, I'd like to rip my uterus out and throw it in that doctors face from all those years back who wouldn't remove it for G.P.'s...like I wasn't plannin' on using it in the first place. Asshole. Believe me...a full face fuckin' BEARD and 'STACH would be better than feeling like this alla time. Sincerely. Anyhoo...off to the library. And, if I even ever come outta there, on to the kitchen crap.
Ummmm...
Would any of you be interested in killing me if I wrote ya a note fer your local
How about just temporarily...til say....spring? (Or I get a break, whichever comes first?)
Posted by: Stevie at 12:56 AM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Yeah...okay...
That last 'entry' was my cats. They did it all, including posting.
I had just gotten to the 'post page' and stood up and moved away from the computer. As I went into the kitchen, the flood of cats flowed across the keyboard in one direction and as I went back the other way, so did they. Somehow, they actually managed to get shit posted. I'm leavin' it.
The first three characters look like "I ate you" (or, more precisely "You I ate") then there's that 7, then...rut-roh....three sixes.
This a sign or something?
Posted by: Stevie at 12:30 AM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
UI87666
Posted by: Stevie at 12:25 AM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
November 26, 2003
World...I want you to know I try...
When Eric and the other people in my life tell me that I'm supposed to control my violent temper and be passive and non-violent like they are, I try...I reeeeeally try. But when I see....the amount of shit I have to deal with for no real reason (paraphrasing, here), I. just. go. BERSERK!!!
Well...I'm about to, anyway. If I let myself give a shit, which I'm trying not to do. Much. I mean really...I have plenty do to, without any added stupid, needless crap. Ya know? First of all, I haven't been saying a whole lot here lately. That's kinda buggin' me. I miss TBT. That's really buggin me. The house is still mostly under control, so that's one thing not being a pain in my ass and Eric is also being cool, so there's another. However...there are still the (expletives deleted) dogs. The other day, Eric brought in a small tub of (early) Christmas cookies. We got to look at them, at least. The dogs ate the cookies and half the container during the night. (See what happens when I act 'normal'? If I had been UP, like I usually am....siiiigh.) The next day, I set a small Tupperware container with two corn muffins in it on the counter. Then...I went outside. When I came back in, not only did I no longer have two corn muffins, I also had a Tupperware container with chewed edges and HALF A LID. Then, there was the butter, AGAIN. I swear to God Himself, if I ever catch one a these assholes....I'mina kick some dog ass...big time. You'd think they were fuckin' starved or something. Nope. Full food and two water bowls 24/7. They just do it for revenge, I think. Didn't get to go for the ride? PEE!!! on the front door. Somebody wouldn't share food? EAT IT!!!! the minute they leave the room. Keep fuckin' with Mommy? DIE DICKHEADS!!! I am officially declaring my capacity to tolerate this shit without violence to be maxed out. Then...there's been AOHell. Ick. I hate AOHell. I have Earthlink back now. End of this story... Then...there's this 21 lb. turkey in the fridge. This'll be the second year in a row and probably the last, that I'll be feeding people I'm not related to by any means. Whatever. It's most likely the last year I'll be doing it here, anyway, because I believe we'll be moving to a place right across a field from here by February. Which is fine, except for Bill. He about turned himself inside out chasing after this one guy who quit, yet with Eric, it's like it's no big deal...which is really pissing me off. This asshole has no clue how much improvement Eric has made in his overall herd health, milk production or pregnancy rate. And, if he DOES know, he should be painfully ashamed of himself for fuckin' Eric over like he does. Anyway....I have more shit to make, create and prepare than I have in....about a year (heh.). Supposedly, Thursday, there will be approximately 8 people eating here starting from around noon-ish to God knows when. This is because George has taken off for Virginia in the Firebird and will be back Thursday night with his and Eric's son. His kid is in the Coast Guard and is moving or something. At any rate, I've got extra people, which is fine and extended hours for all this, which I don't mind much, either. What I do mind is the fact that there were two messages on my cell phone, according to Eric at 6:30 this morning, from George, informing me that MY car broke down and his cell phone was dying and that I needed to get ahold of his kid for him. (We all have inter-connected Nextel cells.) These calls were placed at 2:30am. Again...had I been UP... I haven't responded to any of this yet. First of all, if he was still stuck, he'd have called by now, or if his kid hadn't seen him yet, he'd call. Secondly, George knew the car was having some kind of problem before he left. It kinda hitches and chokes its way up long hills....whatever. He knew it. And, he works on cars, too. Anyway, he left for Virginia in spite of the problem because his kid is graduating from something and moving and he just HAD to be there. Then, he kills the car and sudddenly it's mine? (Deeeeeep breath...) Pfft. You broke it, you bought it, punkass. I have enough to do, cooking dinner for an assload of people, half of whom may not be here now because you killed THE car. Dork.George is a sweet person, for the most part, but he does this kinda shit alla time. Know there's a problem and push on anyway, only to have to fix it at his inconvienience, along the side of a dark road or in a divorce lawyers office. And, no...I have no idea why. Wally used to ask me that alla time..."WHY does he DO that?" Like I'm supposed to know. So...here I am. Quoting Billy Jack and breathing veeeery deeply every five breaths, or so. I'm not gonna go off...I'm just not. Oh...then there's my goat. Or, to be more precise, my lack of my goat. I can't find him anywhere. I went out yesterday searching for him and managed to fall in mud and be covered. God, was I pissed. On top of which, I didn't find my boy. Damn it. Now...Bill bitches about my goat constantly, saying he smells and shit. AND Bill lets A.W.A.T.A.W's come here and kill things. If I find my goat dead, I will not be responsible for my actions. And...there WILL be actions. Lots of them. Promise. If my goat is dead...I'd like to see anybody try to stop me. Okay?
Billy Jack, indeed. Any-freakin-way...I'm not quite sure which direction to go, here. What to do first? Hmmm. I guess I'd better check on George then maybe take a hike across about 3 or 4 fields to the back house and see if Goat-boy is there. Then, I could come back (if somebody MAKES ME) and tweak the house and start making stuff like the potato and the maccaroni salads and the coleslaw. From scratch, I might add... After I have another cuppa coffee and another few minutes of peace in the 'library'... Just by the way...something I've been told a million times that I wonder about constantly....
People always tell me women treat me like shit because they're jealous. May I ask...OF WHAT????
What about any of my life, except for Eric, is worth being jealous and shitty about? Are you people (women) on LSD or something? Fuck, man.
Posted by: Stevie at 08:38 AM | Comments (50) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
November 25, 2003
I'm baa-aack...
Got my Earthlink connection back and I'm ready to rock-n-roll, now.
I know that sometimes Earthlink bites it, to some people, but, the agent at the 'live chat' forum just did my reconnect one hell of a lot faster than the phone rep said earlier today....Went from 24-48 hrs. to 20 minutes. I kinda like that.
Go Earthlink.
Posted by: Stevie at 08:11 PM | Comments (43) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Processing 0.01, elapsed 0.2704 seconds.
37 queries taking 0.266 seconds, 49 records returned.
Page size 55 kb.
Powered by Minx 0.8 beta.