October 12, 2003
Geez...
I had fun in spite of myself.
It was a pretty cool group, headed by an even cooler woman. (Believe it or not.)This probably isn't news to anybody but me but...I think Halloween is different if you're Jewish. I think....
One of the kids asked if it was going to be one of the haunted hayrides and the cool Head Lady What Be In Charge answered him thusly: "Nooo. As cool as spooky things are, it's not Jewish." Wow. I had no idea.
She was cool as hell, though. She kept apologizing for being 'disorganized'...I just laughed and told her to relax and breathe and be as disorganized as she needed to be. I was fine with it. (After my morning...she'd a had to have done something completely stupid to piss me off and she was far from stupid...Thank You, Lord.) I was having a great time, sitting on the fender of my Oliver (not the one I needed to be shown how to shift-so I at least had a tractor I was familiar with-*Yay!), singing with Larry Gatlin, waitin' for 'em to get ready. It's really nice out today.
(*Everytime I use that 'Yay!', I picture that 'special' puppet on Crank Yankers. The one who yells 'Yay!' every other word...)
The ride went smoothly...I picked the right pumpkin field and I didn't get stuck once. Did run over maybe one row of corn, though...had to make a rather sharp turn. With two wagons. Around a corner, down a hill and across a stream. All at once, so I went wide. I didn't run thru it too bad...only had one leaf stuck on the side when I got back. I didn't screw up on the corner/hill/stream combo. That was the important part.
I did see one kid do something really weird, however. This one little guy picked up a buncha pieces of a squashed pumpkin and put them in his pants pocket. I'm just lookin' at him thinking "Ookaaayy." If he was my kid and I put my hand in that pocket to check it before washing those pants and felt that ooky shit...man. Oh, and there was this one other littler kid I saw before we went out...He had wandered away from his Mom and when she caught up with him, she picked him up and scolded him, shaking her finger. He started slapping at her hand! Him, I'da killed. I thought to myself "Son, the day you slap me is the day you die, so choose it wisely." Which made me laugh. Dumb lil shit. Honestly...if I had a kid and that kid tried hittin' me...we'd at the very least have a severe 'talk'. There would not be a second time. Or there wouldn't 'be' a kid. I'll put up with a lot of some kindsa shit. But, that ain't any of it. Especially not from some kid. Any kid. Ever. I don't do it and I feel no need to tolerate it. At all. So there..PPTTTFFFTTTHHH. (Or however da hell ya spell the patented Archie Bunker answer to everything...put your tongue between your pursed lips and blow.) (Great. Now I sound like Dudley Moore in the ORIGINAL movie 'Bedazzled'- which I highly reccomend over that Elizabeth Hurley shit redition of the same- as I sit here following my own directions.) I is fucked UP. Anyhoo(ROD!-Ya know, Rod, you CAN call anytime ya want...) I'm gonna go start dinner. (I am in a MUCH better mood now. Even the dogs are out from hiding and I got the leash off Miss Runaway aka Jessie the Snot.) This evenings menu includes chicken legs with my secret recipe (which is just PORK Shake-n-Bake...try it. It's damn good.), chicken gizzards made the same way, Ceddar and Bacon dog-rotten (as we call au gratin) potatoes and cut green beans. Maybe I'll get adventurous and shred up some lettuce and shit for salad. (Sounds goood put like that, don't it?) Is it really PMS time? Anybody (besides poor Eric) have any idea? Even though I'm being silly, there still seems to be this slightly violent undercurrent...
You'd think I'd know when it's time, right? Wrong. I hate the whole process and immediately put it out of my mind the instant it's over. I can't even ever remember when the last one was for the doctors office, if I have to go and they need to know. It's regular and short lived, so I just ignore the whole thing as best I can. Which works great...until I start wantin' to throw shit. Then, I can't tell if it's a bad day or the onslaught of PMS. I always have to wait and see it if lasts more than one day. Or ask Eric. He knows. Boy, does he know. I ever get a gyno, he/she better ask Eric about this shit. Or, one a you guys, if anybody else pays attention to this sorta shit. I sure as hell don't. Alright. I've gone from the hayride, to kids, to dinner, to PMS. I think it's time to go now. I see the men in the white jackets out in the yard..."There coming to take me away, hoho ,hehe, haha..." Hey...whatchoo doin' with that NET? PUT ME DOWN!!! I'll behave. I'll be cool...Hey!
Posted by: Stevie at 06:39 PM | Comments (47) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Oh...this is gonna be a lovely God damn day...
I'm awake less than an hour, have about one cuppa coffee in me when Eric shows up. "George called." Yeah? "Yeah. He said Joe called him. I called Joe back and they're supposed to be coming up next weekend with a bag of my shit, again." Fuckshithellpissfuckfuckfuck
Lovely. But, ya know what? Fuck both of these assholes. I hate both of 'em and I merely told Eric that the same rules apply as before. "You and Joe have a blast...but, if either of you two thinks for one fuckin' second that I'm gonna be stuck for even one nanosecond with that cunt whose been dead for at least ten years except nobody told her...you're sadly mistaken." He laughed his ass off. I'm glad he thought that was amusing. I just hope he KNOWS I WAS NOT KIDDING. Words cannot even begin to describe the horror that is this woman. Jesus, even if I overtly liked every woman on the entire planet, I'd hate this one.I'll see if I can find an image somewhere so y'all can get a real idea of what I'm barfing about. Between Halloween and the proliferation of 'Wizzled Up Old Grannies Who Shoulda Been Buried 40 Years Ago' porn sites, I should be able to find something... And....I get to live with this knowledge in my head for an entire week.
(Somebody PLEASE KILL ME. I'll write ya a note for the Prsecutor. I'll tell him I asked ya to. And why. Don't worry. 10 seconds with this bitch, he'll believe the note and let ya go...) Then...I was doing the Dog-Xchange for the morning. This is where you've got three dogs, two large and one medium, who want to go pee. I've spent countless hours honing this into a well-oiled, finely-exectued manuver. Since Daisy got here, it goes: Daisy first. She does her shit, visits April, hangs out for a few minutes and is ready to come back in. Then goes Ziggy. He always pees for about 20 minutes, barks at everything got-damned thing out there, also visits April and usually manages to get their chains tangled, then sits out there booming out these HUGE barks til I get sick of it and go bring him in. Then goes Jessie. She likes to stay out there for hours, so she goes last. As long as it's nice, she's good for a few hours. If it's rainy, she hangs in the carport, but she does wanna come in sooner. Well, not today. As I'm trying to mentally puke the idea of those two assholes coming here, it all went to hell. I got Eric to put Ziggy out first. Those two work well together. All was fine. I go to switch dogs, Daisy for Ziggy, when they went apeshit. Ziggy came in, like he's supposed to. I got ahold of Daisy and just as I went to click the tie-out on, Ziggy the frickin' asshole, decides to come back out the door. I yelled at him and shoved him back and Jessie jumped over all of us and took off running with Daisy by her side. Fuckin' BITCH!!! I yell. I holler their names...They look back over their shoulders at me, laughing their punk dog asses off as they run for the far side of the farm. I. Am. So. Gonna. Kill. Both. Of. Them... I was PISSED. (Still am, a little...) I grab two leashes and head out, cussing out loud as I go. Here's the really fun part. Eric had to show me how to run this one tractor that I've never driven before. I'll be using it later (if I don't just go on and have a goddamn stroke just to end it all) for a pumpkin-pickin' hayride. So, since the tractor was right there, near the driveway, I just threw on some old T-shirt and a pair of sweats. Didn't brush my hair, no makeup or any of that shit. Just T-shirt, sweats and these slip-on shoes. Okay? Got the picture? Not scary, but not good necessarily, either. Good enough for a tractor-shifting lesson tho. NOT good enough for what those fuckin' dogs did to me.... So, there they go at the speed of light across the farm. I get the leashes, my cigarettes (I'm figuring this is gonna take a while) and head off in the direction of the dust trail. Motherfuckers. I go around the last barn and ...there SHE is. Ms. America AGAIN! That stupid chick who is fuckin' the 17 year old and who makes me want to beat her to death when she so much as looks at Eric. Yeah. Her. Fuckin' WONDERFUL. And, whom do you think these two asshole, traitor dogs run to? You got it. She had a dog of her own out there, so my two heathens ran right up to her. Now, I hate both of them, too. Bitches. I got the leashes on and basically drug them back to the house. One of those "I don't give a flying fuck whether you walk or not, you are COMING! MuthaFUCKERS!!!
First ya's fuck up my little system, then you run to HER? Fuck both of ya. I don't need this shit, ya know?"
Jessie started it, so she got her ass smacked and she's still wearing the choke collar and leash. The choke collar is all loose now and I don't usually use them, but fuck her. She can wear it the rest of her stupid life, as far as I'm concerned right now. I'll tell ya one got-damn thing...That's the LAST time Miss Jessie will be going out without a leash. I don't care if she'll only be wearing it for nine seconds. It's better than chasing her stupid, deaf, doesn't even know her fuckin' stupid name ASS all over this farm. And, I explained to Daisy LOUDLY that following that jerk-off's example is a sure way to get her ass kicked by ME.
Oh and Ziggy got an earful, too, for getting in my way. I don't think he's going to get anywhere near the door for a while.
Daisy is camped out under my chair and Jessie is hiding in my bedroom, leash and all. Ziggy retired to the livingroom. I think they all got the point. Hell, loud as I was being, I doubt anybody on this farm is gonna try to go outside without checking with me first. Motherless FUCK. What's next? Oh..I'll bet I know. My period. Has to be. Whether it's time or not...don't matter. The way this day is going, I expect my period to show up when I'm at the exact farthest point from the house during the pumpkin-procuring hay ride. Just watch. Oh, yeah. It'll happen. Some days, I reeeaally want to know why I even had to get outta bed. Especially when the best place in the world to be seems to be UNDER it. Okay...I'm laughing out loud at myself and this whole sordid clusterfuck now and I gotta go pee for a change. I've already promised me that I won't go running off, so I won't be makin' myself wear a leash to the bathroom....settin' an example, dontcha know.
I may go make nice with the stupid &*$#@!(*&!! dogs...I may just make 'em wait til I get done driving tractors. Let 'em worry a while...
Either way, I'm goin' to the 'Library' for a while....and I'm shutting the damn door. If I don't, I'll wind up with every animal in this house in there with me. I usually don't mind that...but right now...no. I'll be back...tho, WHY...I'm still wonderin' about. If I had any brains at all, I'd just stay in the tractor until sometime next month....you know...until AFTER the hag's visit.
Peace....
Posted by: Stevie at 03:06 PM | Comments (45) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Lord, I hope I do this right...
This is a cool site.
Posted by: Stevie at 03:02 AM | Comments (46) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 11, 2003
Now that that's done...
Okay. Dinner is done. I made two nice sized steaks, seasoned with Nature's Seasonings, seasoned salt and garlic powder. (Really light on that last one...) I put ground black pepper on Eric's. He loves pepper. I can't stand the stuff. It's okay, tho...it all works out. I always cut off a piece of raw seasoned steak before I cook it. Then, I eat it. Raw. This makes Eric-who eats frickin' PIGS FEET, btw-gag. I love it. Which is even weirder than usual because I'm a Taurus. But, that goes hand-in-hand with me being a female and mysogynist at the same time. Well, I don't understand or trust most women, anyway, thanks to my retarded mother.
Any-freaakin'-way, back to dinner. I also made succotash (corn and lima beans together), mac and cheese (the good kind) and those corn muffins.
I can also hear the festivities out front. They play the absolutely stupidest friggin' music...I don't know the names of these stupid songs, but I can tell ya, the utterly moronic chicken dance song would be an improvement.
What the hell happened to ass-kickin' rock and roll by bands like Led Zepplin, AC/DC, Pink Floyd, Skynyrd, and The Allman Brothers and the Eagles, even Little River Band and Rick Springfield? (He had a coupla good ones, too. Quit looking at your monitor like that. "Rock of Life" springs to mind. If ya haven't heard it, find it and listen to it. You'll see why I mentioned him too. ) NEWSFLASH: There are moo-moo's wandering everywhere. Somebody (who is currently fulla steak-n-stuff) left a gate open....Film at 11:00...) We now return you to todays rant about the shitty music being produced these days.... It sucks.
EOM George is gone til Monday. So is my car, of course. It's worth it. I get to run around naked for two whole days! Yay! Wait a minute...it's not exactly 99* (degrees) anymore. Ah, screw it. I can always jack the heater up and just play it off. Well, I guess I've soaked/drowned the dishes long enough. Oh, crap..yeah. I've got a load of laundry to do something to, too. One to fold, one to dry or something like that.
Whatever.
I'll be around......
Posted by: Stevie at 10:11 PM | Comments (45) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Well, this sucks...
Blogrolling is down for maintenence...no pleasing links. Crap.
Good thing I read everybody before I went out there tonight.
Sorry I haven't posted much today, but I spent all my time earlier, reading.
I'm cooking dinner now, so I'll be posting later.
I've got that '100 things' thing I wanna do (but now Jett's got me actually thinking about it and all) and I've written down everybody's URL so I can do links easier. Don't know exactly where I'm goin' with that, yet...but, it should be interesting.
Gotta go check the Corn Muffins...be back.
Posted by: Stevie at 08:14 PM | Comments (48) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 10, 2003
What kinda sick sumbitch...
looks up 'child+abuse+pictures'?
Oh...I know. A CPS caseworker so they'll know what the hell they're supposed to be looking for, since they sure as fuck don't seem to know now.Either way, pervert or CPS worker, I say the same thing: Fucktard!
Posted by: Stevie at 11:46 PM | Comments (47) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Whew!!
Made it...the house looks good. I even cleaned the computer and keyboard. Got shower, did a little makeup, did a little bit wit' da hair...got my crap together and now I gotta go. Cars are already coming in.
See ya's later....Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 05:19 PM | Comments (47) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Question....
What in God's name is a 'meme'? I see it in blogs constantly, have asked about 49 people what it means and have gotten not one word back in response.
Another thing I wanna know what da hell it is, is 'bling, bling'. WTF does this shit mean? I wanted to know when I first heard it. Now that I've seen an uber blonde bimbo-type bee-otch using it on VH1 (and sounding completly STOOPID, I might add) I've just gotta know what the hell it means. There are other mysteries of the universe I keep meaning to ask about, then I forget. Today, as they come back to me (or whenever they do), I'll be asking.Frick, I'm 40 years old. I should know this shit by now. Ya know?
Posted by: Stevie at 01:33 PM | Comments (53) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Here's what got done last night/early this morning...
All the wash except the pure white shit like socks and stuff that need bleach, the dishes, the cat boxes, everything is picked up and the house smells like incense. The only thing I still have to do is vacuum. And, take the trash over to the dumpster. And, do the rat cage. And, what ever other 'little' shit I find...
Then, around 7:00am, I went to sleep.
Here I am up again, with hardly any help...except for Spider head-buttin' me while purring his little hiney off. Nothing like waking up with a kitten nose shoved firmly into your eyesocket. Repeatedly. While said kitten rumbles like a fuzzy, little Harley.
I guess I ought to just be glad there ain't a fuzzy little biker on him. Knowin' my luck, it'd be a tiny Pagan or something who'd kick me in the head with his little tiny harness boots with the Harley Eagle on 'em. And, he'd have this tiny little head that looks like it was shrunk by that witch doctor in 'Beetlejuice' and he be screaming at me to "getup, getup getup" with this even tinier little voice, thereby making me laugh and really pissin' him off. Then, he'd call all his little purring kitten ridin' buddies and they'd all show up on different cats of mine and I'd end up like Gulliver or something.
Peace
(*muttering* 'now, where did I leave that weed?....')
Posted by: Stevie at 01:27 PM | Comments (49) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
This is fun...
I'm tying to type with two kittens sitting in my arms in front of the keyboard. Reaching around them isn't so bad, but Spider was just gettin' a bath and blocking my view.
There. He finally laid down.
He'd better not get too comfortable, tho. I've got to clean this house. Daisy's old Mom is stopping by, with the daughter who had her first, to see her. It needs it anyway. But, between poisoning myself with flea collar dust and flashing Billy, who's had time to clean? I mean, honestly.
Then, tomorrow night, I'm parking cars again for a while, with the almost certainty of driving a hay ride, too. From around 5/5:30pm til around 9. So, I need to get this house done.
There's laundry, dishes, shredded shit from Daisy like paper and foam toy balls, the cat boxes and vacuuming and other assorted fun things.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:22 AM | Comments (52) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 09, 2003
October 9th...
Happy Birthday John Winston Lennon.
And, Sean.
Eat shit, Yoko.
Posted by: Stevie at 09:45 PM | Comments (50) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Another helpful hint from Hell-on-wheels...
If you're wearing a short dress nightie thing, don't answer the door for your Boss's son with a dog who jumps up on you by putting her paws UNDER the hem when you're not wearing underwear.
It makes him stutter.
Posted by: Stevie at 09:22 PM | Comments (53) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
About that calf barn...
Stupid computer. Hit post and it suddenly 'Cannot find server' and eats it.
Asswipe.
I get out there with my bucket of hot, soapy water, get the hose, get everything all ready and finally look and really see what I've got to deal with. Birdshit. Everywhere a 1/2 inch thick layer of dried, crusted on birdshit. I had to use a paint scraper to get that off first.
Then, when I got done scrubbing off all the calf dirt, boogers, old mucky milk, moldy oats and flyshit specks, they looked pretty damn good.
Hell, so does the rest of the place now that they're cleaning it for these stupid tours. Where are the snooty horse people now? (WHY CAN'T I SPELL? I keep transposing letters and making up new words!! So far, I've caugh mikl, claf and hosre...bear with here, peoples. I'm trying...and laughing my ass off.) Now, at this point in the post that got et, I went off (in a good way) about Eric for a while. I think I'll do that again....in a different post. Maybe next one, I'll be able to spell again. Ya think?
Posted by: Stevie at 08:48 PM | Comments (52) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Another helpful hint from Hell-on-wheels...
When you put a new flea collar on your dog and you stretch it to activate it, you really should wash your hands before you eat a coupla pieces of sticky candy. Or else they're making sticky candy with a slightly bitter taste, these days. Ick.
God...
I'm not SICK sick, but I definitely tasted it last night and today my stomach is a little pissed at me. Not much, but enough.
Oh well, fuck it. I dare a flea to bite me now. It'd be funny to see the look on it's little face as it dies an instant death.
However, given a choice, I'd much rather see the expression on Eric's BC's face if only God would have HER die...Of course, in my most cherished version of those events, she wouldn't have a face left to see. Or head, for that matter.
Still...I'd look. And giggle. And, spend every day of the rest of my life thanking God and telling everybody exactly how cool he is. As in wearing a sandwich board. And, ringing a bell. Naked, if need be.
Psst...God! You hearin' this? Please? Eric needs a break and this seems like the only way it's gonna happen, unless of course, You send us a lawyer who wants experience more than cash. C'mon, Big Guy...put her outta her misery. And us. You know you've taken lotsa lots better people...Stevie Ray, John Ritter, my Uncle Henry, Eric's Dad...Those were nice, talented people who were loved and loved in return. The BC is none of the above. She's just a mean, hard-hearted, money-grubbin' punk. She drove her first son to suicide, her daughter to the nut-hut and You only know what she's doing to Eric, Jr. Could You pleasepleaseplease help us out here?
Thanks,
me
Don't ask me how I got from fleas to her...I don't know, except they're both pests. And blood suckers, to put it lightly.
Posted by: Stevie at 03:33 PM | Comments (47) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 07, 2003
Well...she's here.
She's quite a bit smaller than your average Quarter Horse (Thank God). Her name is Daisy. She's sweet, gorgeous, seems smart and gets along with all the cats and both dogs. Matter of fact, she is able to get (90 lb.) Ziggy on his back and keep him there...(I said 'both dogs'...I mean both 'in-the-house' dogs. April hasn't been too involved, yet.)
No way is this chick pure Border collie, either. She's the right size, but, her hair is shorter, her body is a bit longer, her coat isn't the same as Uncle Henry's Border collies was and she has a bit of a Springer look to her. (Springer Spaniel, not Jerry...)
She's mostly black. White starts on her face, between her eyes. It goes under her chin, around her neck and down her belly. Her legs are mostly white with freckles. Her tail...ah, her tail. The other 'ain't exactly purebred' clue. It's all black, except the last 2 or 3 inches and it curls up over her back almost twice, it's so long.
She got here last night, around 9:00pm. She had an impressive dowry with her: bowls, toys, bones, food, paperwork...everything. She's really sweet and friendly. She sits in everybody's lap, licks your teeth if ya ain't careful and she's got the brightest eyes I've ever seen on a dog.
There is a possibility that Bill may have something to say about all this. I could care less....if I tried reeeaaaalllly hard. I, personally, am not going to listen to anything he says. When Ziggy first got here, Bill kept hinting around about us getting rid of April. Ain't happened, ain't gonna happen.
I'll give a crap what Bill has to say right after he 'gets rid of' the alcoholic nimrod with the shotgun over there, the Comacho kids who rip off everything they can around here, his own ugly, nasty lil sack o'shit that chases every car down the driveway every time, his kid Billy's dog, Amber, who comes here all the time just to fuck with my dogs, Billy himself and a few other things of that nature. Him do not want to get into a 'debate' wit' me about this. I will wear his ass out. And, I'll make him wash his own friggin' calf pens...
Which, by the way, is one of the things I'll be doing today. Washing a calf barn. Yes, washing a building with soapy water and rags. Hey, it's Bill we're talkin' about, here. He has one major life philosophy in common with Charles Manson-No sense makes sense. Gawd.
We're gearing up for the (@$$^&@!!*) school tours. A buncha screaming hordes of crumb snatchers running all over the place looking at cows and calves.
(Somebody crank up the "Electric Slide' and just shoot me in the face right now.)
Just what every working diary farm, that is also a mulch business with huge tree trucks coming in and out all day, needs. Little tiny people with even littler, tinier brains to be running around the driveway where all the big trucks, tractors and accident prone nitwits (like Bill) have to work. Sigh. It's a clusterfuck waitin' to happen. Stay tuned for the mayhem....
One last thing, before I go...
Ziggy is fuckin' goofy. A while ago, I was sitting here, sipping coffee, perusing a few blogs, when Ziggy came into the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sit down and begin the not inconsiderable job of bending around to try to clean his own fat ass. As he's cleaning, I first heard, then turned saw him fart right into his own face. I almost pissed myself laughing at the look on his face. When he started the fart, his ears pricked up, his licking slowed down and he got this puzzled/grossed out look on his face. At the end of his mini-concert, he sat up, looked at me, then fell over on his side and groaned. I was dyin'!!! He was sooo busted. I'm just not sure if he fell over from gassin' himself or because he saw me lookin'.
Lord, men are goofy...human, animal...probably even alien.
Yeah, they're goofy, but I love 'em.
(God...if You're not too busy, can You come hang out with me for a while? I think I'm gonna need You before this is over. Thanks...me)
Take care, peoples...
I'll be back later.
God willing.
Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 10:31 AM | Comments (47) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 06, 2003
Hint from Hell-on-wheels...me
Here's something Heloise never told ya....You don't need to 'thaw' chicken for two or three days. In fact, if you do, when you open it, it's garanteed to make everybody in the general vicinity retch and run screaming.
Sigh. God. That was gross. Funny...but gross. Needless to say, it was back to the store for chicken that did not have that aroma. And, bad-assed attitude. I forgot to make the stupid corn muffins, tho. I guess we'll have them tonight.This whole weekend, I've been cooking and baking my ass off. That's part two of my plan about me losing weight. I'll lose it while I feed Eric. I like that. I get to make all this fattening shit and he eats it. I 'taste'. Maybe a bit too much, but, I'm fine with it. Some days, tho, I swear, I wanna get him up there in weight so I can stand there and tell him how good he looks when he hates how he looks. He does that to me all the time. I'd almost like it, except that I know perfectly well that he's used to seeing a 350 woman...naked, even. (GAG!!!) So, when he tells me I look good, I flash on the BC and realize how shitty the competition is and vow to keep losing weight. Okay...let's go back to Saturday for a few minutes. It's rainy, cold and kinda shitty out. I'm parking people out at the agri-tainment field in this mess. I get about 92 people pulling up and asking (in view of a field fulla cars, I might add) "Are they going ahead with it tonight?" DUH. Stupid assed, knob-headed..."Well, I certainly hope so. If not, I'm getting all wet for nothing." What I really wanted to say was something like "Do ya see all those cars? Do ya think that many people work here? Can you not see the tractors, right over there, pulling wagons full of straw and asstards? Yes, Numbshit, it's on for tonight."
Another 92 people thought it would be cute to ask "If I get stuck, can somebody pull me out?" Again..DUH. All I said was "Tractors, we got..." One guy in a gorgeous F-150 asked about that. To him I said "What..a FORD get stuck? Never..."
So, it keeps raining. And, I, the knothead that I am, am dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and I've got my duster on. I was freezing. So, I radio Eric and ask him to bring me a sweatshirt, flashlight and a BLACK baseball hat when he comes down. (I was going to need that flashlight when it got dark. See? I can be a bonehead...like y'all need convincing of that...)
Anyway...he sent George down because he (Eric) was gonna be a while. He sent George down with a huge red sweatshirt (good), a flashlight (good) and a hat (uuuhhhhmmm...) Not black. The hat he sent down is from Hatfield-Quality Meats Since 1895. It's a hunting hat. No earflaps, thank God Almighty, but, still, it's camo...bright orange, dark green and brown. I put it on and looked exactly like DAX MONTANA'S HOMEPAGE!! A wet homepage, but his homepage, to be sure... After the parking detail was done and before the fireworks started, I raced back to the house to change, brush out the hair and shit. I got back, got a funnelcake and watched the fireworks with Eric. Last year, I remember, all I was worried about was getting the last hayride done so I could leave for work. This year, it was nice to not have that worry. I'm standing there, with Eric, watching and when they got to the finale....it got weird. There were tons of fireworks exploding in the sky and Lee Greenwood's voice singing "Proud to be an American" and I'm thinking about Eric and how lucky I am to have someone who loves me like he does and how, even tho I spend a great majority of my time wanting to punch Bill in the solar plexus, this really is kinda cool and my life is pretty damn good and I actually kinda like it and all...then, I flashed on the WTC and all those people. My mind almost got to finish the thought that they were being represented by the individual streamers and sparkles coming from the fireworks, when, the next thing I knew, I had tears running down my face. I felt so fuckin' good and so fuckin' bad at the same time and I really was proud to be an American right then.
Then, the show ended, the music went back to that 'God-kill-me-NOW-Electric-Slide' shit, I remembered Bush and went back to feeling rather normal. I kept crying because Bush is in charge, but...only kidding.
Hell, I'm still getting goose-bumps writing it down, now. I remember thinking to myself "How corny is this?" I couldn't believe I was in tears out there. First time Lee's got me with that song. ("Ring on her finger"...now, that one gets me every time. Of course, I switch it around to "Ring on HIS finger" and make it more real-life by changing it to 'her' fault. Told ya's before, I'm a die-hard 'man-fan'...)
I got to actually go on a hayride with Eric driving. It was cool...droll, but cool. They have these 'scenes' set up that are supposed to be scary and I guess they would be...to a 3 year old. There were no people in 'em. Just spiderwebs, 'ghosts' and pretty colored lights. Sigh...The way they used to do it sounds great. Actors in the scenes, chainsaws, electric chairs, blood, guts...you know...good stuff. I don't know why they stopped.
Bill got a break this year, tho. Everybody else's corn mazes got knocked flat by Isabelle. Bill had a few bald spots from it, but he had people out there STANDING IT BACK UP. Only Bill would try to 'heal' snapped off corn stalks and only Bill could find a way to profit from a friggin' hurricane. Old farmers...gotta love 'em, cause if ya don't, you'll wanna kick 'em in the ass every 9 seconds.
Alright...this is long enough and Pixy left a comment, I think, about my Collin's post, so I wanna go see what he said....
I 'll be back... Two updates: Pixy's thinking that maybe if some of the Tall Dogs put out the word on Collins it may help
and
Dax done went and changed his address. You can still get to the original page, in fact, he's still posting there, but his new address is gonna be 'www.Daxmontana.net'. No fair hollerin' at me because that isn't a link. It's not a link on his page, either...
Oh, and that camo background didn't come up, either. It's black now-which, if you remember is the color hat I wanted in the first place. Anyway, if you've seen his page before, you'll know what my hat looked like and maybe he'll put the camo back when he gets moved...
Posted by: Stevie at 11:39 AM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Collins?
Nope...just a referral from cz.mu.nu. First time I've seen one in a while, though.
I checked his page. There are two comments. One from a girl looking for him and one from some asshole named 'Bart' with a fake email address...he's just being ignorant.
(Note-My God...I write down a lot of esoteric shit. And there's some sort of horrible caterwaling coming from the livingroom.....Jesus. Eric had the IFC channel on and left it when he went back out. The horrible noise was some chick 'singing' (screeching is more like it) on some stupid movie called 'Shanghi Triad'...ICK. And, it seems Ziggy the wonder-dork has confused an empty instant potatoes box for a CrackerJack box. It's shredded and I don't see his 'prize' anywhere...hell, even if there had been one, he'd of just eaten it...) Back to Collins...Don't expect any great revelations, here. Just a few areas someone could check into...okay? At one point in hs blog, he mentioned going from the North shore to the South shore at around 5:00pm-leads me to think he was going home from work.
His correct age is now 23.
He did a breast cancer walk/run in Eisenhower Park. This is in Nassau County, I believe. It must be a big park, because it's listed as being in both Eastmeadow and Westbury.
He mentioned having a rotary phone at his place in Saratoga.
He also said that the Fulton Street Pub is the best bar in his area.
I also have 'Farmingdale' and 'Schenectady' written down. I must've seen these towns someplace in conjunction with his name or email. It's been so long, I forget. Anyhow...if anybody can get a viable phone number, let me know. Or, if anybody finds out where he is, let us all know. Oh yeah...he also mentioned that his Dad works for Verison in Manhatten. I don't know if I'm the only one and I'm trying not to be an alarmist, but I'm starting to think something seriously bad might have happened to him.
He was wanting to kick his girlfriend's brother's ass, too. Jail is the lesser of my two main worries. Oh well, take this and run with it. See what ya can find out. Hope he's okay.
Posted by: Stevie at 10:55 AM | Comments (52) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
I am beat, people...
I made the chicken potpie/dumplings -whatever- and it turned out good. The house is still fairly clean, 99.9% of the dishes are done.
I went to bed around 12:30am and got up a while ago. Still workin' on my first cuppa coffee....God Bless Juan Valdez!!!! And his coffee-bean carrying donkey.
Posted by: Stevie at 09:00 AM | Comments (47) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 05, 2003
And...they're done.
This is whats left:
1/4 of the bacon.
4 pancakes outta 12.
5 pieces of scrapple out of a whole block.
5 pieces of toast out of 18.
Less than 1/2 of the potatoes.
(Man, if I got that link done right the first time, I am gettin' good. I did the URL from memory...no peeking.)
Posted by: Stevie at 01:17 PM | Comments (55) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
The locusts have arrived...
There are currently three men tearing thru the kitchen, ketchup flying. I got all that shit done, then, for a twist, I made two kinds of toast...regular and cinnamon/sugar.
I've also been doing dishes all along. Ya know, I could listen to Barry White non-stop for hours. It still hurts that he died... Oh well...whatcha gonna do? Go play him again, that's what I'm gonna do.Posted by: Stevie at 12:36 PM | Comments (51) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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