September 29, 2003
Thanks, Margi...
Well, Hot Damn! Ain't I gettin' good at this stuff? Now, if I can only manage to figure out how to insert all three-yes, even JLo, til I get into the 29's at least-into the template without screwing up the entire universe or something, I'd really be doing something. The other thing I'd like to be able to do, is link specific posts. From what I've read, I take it you can't do that with people on Blogsnot? Funny I know that before I even know how to do it, ain't it?
Posted by: Stevie at 02:01 PM | Comments (57) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Hmmmm....
This time, I downloaded the picture from Yahoo Members Dircetory and tried uploading it here. We shall see... Cool. It worked. Yes, I know is a dark picture, but it was shot in the woods. Anyone who knows how to fix this kinda stuff, g'head. Lighten it up. This is the one I want on here up in the right corner or someplace. Let me go see if I can capture the even more profound, more important
image....
Posted by: Stevie at 01:54 PM | Comments (63) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Hope this works....
If that is a link, click it to see the JLo Rolling Stone cover that pissed me off enough to loose 75 lbs in less than four months. I made it a permanant item on my desktop today. Oh yeah...I've gotten 7 or 8 pounds off...so far.(Thought I forgot about that, didn'tcha?)
Yay!! It works.
Gorgeous, ain't it? I looked at that and thought to myself "Enough of this shit. I can look like that." So, I did. Then, along comes Eric with that delicious damn English Toffee cappuccino.... Not this time, though. I'm getting back into my 29's and that LBD (Little Black Dress) and staying there.
Posted by: Stevie at 01:33 PM | Comments (61) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
While I'm here.....
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All thngs wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
Each line is a title. They're the beginning of a series of books about animals and veterinary medicine back in the 40's in Darrowby, written by a man who used the name James Herriot. His real name was Alfred Wright or White-I can't remember which. (I think it's White...)
Anyway, if you like animals AT ALL and have any interest whatsoever in animal husbandry/vet sciences, you've got to read these books. Yes, Rob, I know they're a hundred years old. That doesn't mean everybody knows about them or that they still aren't wonderful books with the best stories. There was even a series on A&E based on these books. I loved it, but the accents were so heavy and they spoke so fast it was hard to keep up.
Anyway...these books are excellent. You'll be laughing your ass off one minute and he'll have you crying the next. You can learn stuff, be entertained and maybe get an idea why some people love animals so much. (Like me...)
If you can find the books on tape, get one. To hear the stories told in the correct accents, which are much easier to understand in the books on tape, is just too cool. Listen to 'em, read 'em...whatever. Just do it. Trust me. You won't be disappointed.
Posted by: Stevie at 05:50 AM | Comments (55) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
What the hell?
I just got the weirdest search to bring anyone here ever.
Asparagus + dipstick. What da hell is dat? A new redneck tool for checkin' oil levels in Ford pickups?Some kinda bizzare sex toy? An organic liquid measurer of some type? What kind of activity can possibly include asparagus and a dipstick?
And, the first one o'you's to say 'me eatin' it' gets smacked....
(Including you, ERIC!) Who looks up this strange shit? And why? What are they lookin' for?
I'm skeert to find out, I think. Jim Morrison had no idea how right he was. People are strange.
Posted by: Stevie at 05:37 AM | Comments (59) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 28, 2003
Well...that didn't last long...
I tried reading the MT help stuff. Pfft.
I read all the mu.nu blogs instead. Then, I followed a link from Gut Rumbles and found a buncha sex blogs. Okay. I blogrolled it. Too much stuff to just 'check out' all at once. Gonna have to 'research' this area. (Anybody wantin to don a lab coat with me-it the blog called "Erosblog'. Links everywhere.)Ahem. Back to the munu blogs...
WHERE THE HELL IS JOHN COLLINS???? And, I'll be practicing my linking on the others. Need. To. Stand. Erect. For. A. Change. I shall return...unlike some other people...(John).
Posted by: Stevie at 05:31 PM | Comments (56) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Am I to understand....
that I can get all my old shit from Blogsnot over here?
If so, someone needs to translate it to ENGLISH.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:39 PM | Comments (60) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
I wanna do a picture...
Actually, there are tons of pictures I'd like to put on here. My own, included.
But...I can't figure out how. And, to put one (or two) on or in the template permanantly....how ya do dat?
Posted by: Stevie at 12:35 PM | Comments (56) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Ooooh...cut & paste works...
The Banana Splits Adventure Hour The Tra La La Song by Mark Barkham & Richie Adams Original Air Dates: 1968 - 1970 (NBC)
Tra la la, la la la la. (4X)
One banana, two banana, three banana, four.
Four bananas make a bunch and so do many more.
Over hill and highway the banana buggies go
Comin’ on to bring you The Banana Splits Show.
Makin up a mess of fun
Makin up a mess of fun
Lot’s of fun for everyone.
Tra la la, la la la la. (4X) Four banana, three banana, two banana, one.
All bananas playing in the bright warm sun.
Flippin like a pancake, poppin like a cork
Fleagle, Bingo, Drooper and Snork.
Tra la la, la la la la. (4X)
Been watching this show forever. Now, maybe I can get the song right, for once.
I wanted to bring the picture over, too, but...I'm not sure how. Could this cut & paste stuff be how you link a person's blog post?
Posted by: Stevie at 12:05 PM | Comments (56) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Ahhhh...
Muchos better. Except now I'm into flipping back and forth between 'Roseanne' on Nick at Night and a show about Kent State. God, what a balls up that was. (No, this isn't the first time I've heard of it. I just re-watch things, trying to understand.)
Okay, then. Getting my cigarettes, another cuppa coffee and back to Ohio and Illinois.
Peace.
Posted by: Stevie at 02:38 AM | Comments (51) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
God knows, I don't wanna jinx myself, but...
I think the pain is completely gone, finally. I've only gotten a couple or three major stomach-type cramps all day and enough Ibuprofin will kill those other cramps pretty well.
So....it's been quiet from my boobs to my hips for about 3 or 4 hours. Everything in between has been hurtin' one way or the other since the other day. This shit'll wear your ass out. Hurts to sit, stand, walk, eat, be hungry, go to the bathroom, finish going to the bathroom (Charmin or not), breathe, move...just about everything, except sleep.
On top of which, you develope a fear of farting.
I wasn't so sure about the Cheerio's and the banana today (Saturday). But, that was okay. Didn't pay for that too hard. Maybe an extra little cramp, or two. It was worth it.
(Just like I think having a beard would be...) Mmmm...grilled cheese...
Be back later.
Posted by: Stevie at 02:14 AM | Comments (55) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Wanted to trade...
One barely used* uterus for a decent sized** winkie.
(*-goes through the motions, but has never been pregnant.)(**-6-7"with a noticable 'girth', please...) Willing to trade even-up, organ for organ. Will deliver and pick up. No indian-giving. Will settle for just giving away uterus, if necessary. Inquire within.
I mean it. I am sick of this crap. I am 40 years old, I have never been pregnant, will never BE pregnant and I do not wish to participate in this archaic, useless, painful, stupid and SEXIST ritual any longer. PMS sucks. Periods suck. The pieces of equipment that I euphimistically refer to as 'plugs' suck. The commercials relating to this shit all suck. Everything about it sucks. I don't wanna do this no more!!! And I will whine, if necessary.
Aw, who am I tryin' to kid? I'd be willing to do a helluvalot more than merely whine to be rid of this plague forever. I even asked for a hysterectomy at around age 25. Stupid doctor said no. Stupid GUY doctor. He was of the opinion the side-affects would be worse than the periods. I beg to differ.
I'd much rather have a nice beard, like my Dad's, than all this foo-foo nonsense. As for the 'trade for a winkie' part....All I really want my very own winkie for is to pee all over stuff. Trees, bushes, Dumpsters, car tires...whatever. And, seeing how if I ask reeeaaalllyyyy nicely, Eric can be persuaded to let me use his for that (outside, anyway. He gets nervous about me 'missing' in the bathroom...), I am willing to just give this damn thing (my uterus-not his winkie) away. Ya know...I don't know what he's so worried about. I don't try to write stuff with it unless we're outside. And, if we are in the bathroom, I know not to wiggle it around too much. I understand the concept of 'arcing'. Geez. It's just fun it make it splash and stuff. It feels just like a little fire hose. And, 'little' IS NOT the operative word in that sentence. Fire hoses are huge. (I was a fireman, remember...) And, no guy could walk around with a firehose in their pants (Shut up, Tom Jones...and, you too, Uncle Miltie.). So, when I say 'little', I mean as in 'little for a firehose', not just little. 'Cause it ain't. Which reminds me of another reason to hate my period. (I know what some people do. I'll pass. *shudders*) I hear menopause is a REAL hoot.
God.
Posted by: Stevie at 01:56 AM | Comments (57) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
An absolutely typical day here in 'Billville'...
As we all know, the guy who co-owns this farn is named Bill. (I say co-owns, because it's recently been confirmed that it was his wife's Dad's farm first, not his Dad's, like we'd been allowed to believe...which explains A LOT, by the way...)
As we also already know, Bill is not the brightest crayon in the box. By far.
Here is a typical day dealing with this nut:
5:00am-Be out in the parlor setting up.
6:00am-Bill's son Bob shows up. Pissed. Ask what's up, find out that Bill wants you to hurry milking to be done ASAP so you can help unload the bales of hay out of the wagons that you will need tonight for hayrides. All 10 of 'em. Ignore the fact that this shit has been in these stupid wagons for days and the fact that the dipshit runnin' the show knows exactly when the Agritainment starts, because he's directly involved with it. Also have about 15 feet of feed that must be removed from silo TODAY, taken to the other feed lot, packed and covered. Ignore also the fact that the dipshit runnin' the show knows this, too.
6:45am-Stop helping Bob milk while attempting to set new land speed record. Go feed the cows.
8:00am-Run in house, inhale some kinda God-knows-what (knowing Eric, it was the cold garlic pizza from last night) for 'breakfast'.
8:15am-Go help unload these $#!*?! wagons.
9:30 am-See Bill go in for his breakfast. Know that you will not see him again, until around 10:15-10:30am. Start to empty silo.
Keep emptying silo til 1:00pm. Watch Bill and 5 stupid teenagers empty last wagon or two. Note that it takes them approximately two hours to accomplish this.
1:15-2:00pm-Inhale more cold pizza while going to auto tag place to make car completely legal. Yay!
2:15pm-Go back out to work, hoping to get started on afternoon feed loads knowing you need to be done early again, so you can drive the hay rides, due to start at 8:00pm.
2:20pm-Climb into feed tractor and key ignition. Hear Nextel radio beep. Cuss. Answer radio "Yes, Bill?". Hear that he needs you to help put straw in now empty hay wagons and move them all to the agritainment area. Cuss some more. Turn off and exit tractor.
2:30-3:45pm-Do all this dumb shit with the wagons.
3:50pm-Drop last wagon in the field and stare in amazement as it begins to pour while you're on your way back to milking parlor.
4:45pm-See Bill run screaming into the parlor to escape the rain, which has just poured again for about the fifth time. Laugh to yourself.
5:00pm-Hear Bill radio son's wife, Kelly, to have her call and cancel all events for this evening, due to rain.
5:03pm-See rain stop and sun come out. Doesn't rain again til after midnight. 5:04pm for the rest of your life-Believe in karma. This shit actually happened today. My hand to God....
Posted by: Stevie at 01:27 AM | Comments (62) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 27, 2003
My monitor died....
First, I get this stomach thing. Less than an hour after that finally let go, my 'little friend' showed up. It announced it's presence by making my left ovary feel like it was in a vise grip. I take 4 Ibuprofen, feel a little better. I had an errand to run and was gone about an hour or so. When we got back, Eric was using the computer and there was this acrid odor in the air. We thought at first that it was the ceiling fan and shut it off. The smell lingered and Eric tracked it to the back of the old monitor. We shut everything down and when I tried it later...nada. Got the audio but just a black screen. Thank God Himself, we just happened to have one sitting around that's compatible.
Told ya He likes me. No matter how needlessly retarded things get, I usually try to remember that.(Sometimes I do wonder, though.) I also believe that every so often He mistakes me for my astrological sign. I am a Taurus, not a real bull. Dude. Ya know what? Except for using the word 'fuck' about 5 times in one paragraph, none of this shit has actually pissed me off yet. Not even the fact that the monitor that died had only been here, what?.....6 weeks? The most annoyed I've felt so far was when I knew the horse deal was fubar. Considering how badly I (still) want to do something like that, I really didn't freak out too much. Then the stomach, then the ovary, then the computer and I still haven't punched or screamed at anyone or anything. So far.
And, tonight I drag my first of many wagon loads of people throught the hay ride. In the dark. On a tractor I'm not too familiar with. Through woods.
(Rolls eyes....) Ain't nuttin' but a thing..... Type at ya's later...
Posted by: Stevie at 08:37 AM | Comments (58) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 26, 2003
You tell me...
Sometime yesterday afternoon, I think it was around noon-ish, I began to experience pains that I cannot even begin to credit, let alone tolerate, in my stomach/intestinal area. I do not know when I ate the alien, but da bitch has been in there, trying to get out, using all manner of sharp objects and vileness since then.
I guess I didn't have enough to worry about. (Hey, thanks God...for distracting me...) And, I also guess that I still don't, 'cause it's still bugging me. Not as bad, but...damn. I choose to see it as God's (weird) way of making sure I know that there are worse things in life than not getting a free horse.
They were polite, I'll give 'em that. But, that's about as far as I can go. I have this feeling that this is the first real, honest-to-God farm they've ever been on. You could see it on their faces. "Ewww. What's this stuff?" "Dirt." Duh. I had to get Eric to show them the barns. First of all, I wasn't going too far from the bathroom, as the seige had already started. Secondly, I didn't want to be forever associated with those structures. They're embarassing. Thank God they're not mine. Actually, if they were my barns, they wouldn't be in the shape they're in. But, still... Anyway, we started off with an email from the Dad saying that they wanted the horse to be somewhere nearby, so daughter can visit him and help rehab his leg. Mom shows up, and that's where it went to hell. Her and daughter tiptoe around, grimacing at the dirt and ask a couple of questions, then leave. Eric and I had the same thought which was to email them and invite them back out, on say, Sunday when it's calmer and Eric is off, to let them see the areas we use better and such rot. I incuded a short line about us hoping we'd be the ones to be able to give Desi (the horse) his new home. (While they were still here, Eric invited them to come back Friday night for the fireworks. We're starting the Agri-tainment season this weekend-more about that stuff later.)
The answering email said shit like...Daughter will be rehabing horse for the next four months (That's how long the vet said it should be til he's ridden again) and that she'd decide then what to do with him. And, thank you for giving us an option. Bite me. Why can't ANYBODY just be honest? Is it so impossible to say "Ew. Fuck no. We don't handle real farm life too well. Thanks anyway." I hate people who pussy-foot around and can't just BE HONEST. God for-fuckin'-bid you should go ahead and hurt me quickly so I can get the fuck over it. Oh, no. Let's string it out for four fuckin' months. Fuck that. I've been living this 1960's, acid-induced, off-off-off-off Broadway play that passes for my life for too long not to know how this is going to turn out. "Facilities", indeed. I KNEW IT. Whatever. I've mostly been too busy staggering around, rolling on the floor, being in pain and shit to be overly concerned about this. Between the uber-polite (pussy) brush off and the pain, I don't care. I'm just happy I'm not blaming myself, for a change. Jesus. I'd like to say that this does not dove-tail really, really well with all my other experiences with females and rich assholes, but then I'd be lying, which I do not do. So, it did. Ummm...I didn't need any further proof, by the way. I am and have been forever convinced that people suck, especially rich ones. Oh well. Whatcha gonna do? Me? I'm goin' back to the bathroom for a while.
I'll be back later...I hope.
The best part of this whole thing was that, late last night, I heard that thing about money and God that I added to the top of this thing, under the title. It made me laugh and I chose to take it as a little poke in the ribs from God. He still likes me, anyway. So does Eric and so do you guys, so those other people can just kiss my money-not-having butt. See ya.... P.S. I didn't cry or say 'fuck', either. Til after they left.
Posted by: Stevie at 04:05 PM | Comments (52) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 25, 2003
Semantics...I'm freakin' over semantics...
Specifically, the word 'facilities'. This word can mean different things to different people. Everything from 'bathroom' to 'shelter'. Right now, for me, it means a knot in my gut and a pissed off and mighty puzzeled kitten.
See, another meaning for that word is 'horse barn'. As in show barn with guys in ties feather dusting the stalls. And, yes, I've actually worked at a place like that. Seabrook Farms over in Jersey. Mannington Twp. Really, really rich guy with Lippazons. (Those white horses that spend about half their time leaping around on their hind feet.) That's the kinda place someone is usually talking about when they use the word 'facilities' in conjunction with horses. Perfectly maintained, swept out every 47 seconds, no poop allowed to be anywhere for more than a nano-second, 20 large box stalls or so, indoor arena, shower stall or even a swimming pool for the horses...that kinda high-falutin' shit.Now, a horse barn...that's a different kinda place. Horse barns are great. They're smaller, less perfectly clean, contain massive amounts of cobwebs, lotsa dust, a coupla useable stalls, have hay everywhere and a radio playing rock-n-roll 24/7. There are cats wandering around, mice for the cats to play with, a dog sleeping in the straw in the corner...there could even be a horse turd or two older than you are somewhere. If ya look...and who would?
The kind of people who are used to 'facilities', that's who. I need to shit a 'facility' somehow by 3:30pm. Today. God. On Monday morning at around 3:00am, I was reading the Sunday paper and happened to notice the 'Pet' ads. I scanned 'em, even though the last thing I really need is another dog, cat, rabbit, rat, goat...you get the idea. So, what do I find? The one thing I do really want. A free horse. There's a Quarter Horse in there, needing 'a good home' with no price given. Hmmm. I contained myself enough to wait to email the guy until about 5:30 or so (in the morning...). He emailed me back before noon. Wanted to know where I live, told me it's his daughters horse and she gets final say and that they're giving him up because his leg gives him problems after show jumping. Okay...I can handle all that. I emailed him back, told him where I am, let him know I've been around horses forever-race and riding-so I'm familiar with leg problems, told him about Gia (my blind old lady Appaloosa that I have for no other reason except to have her) and stuff like that.
His wife called my cell today and left a message containing the word 'facilities'. As in "If possible, my daughter and I would like to stop by tomorrow about 3:30pm to see your facilities." My first thought was "God, I hope she means the bathroom." I'm shittin' bricks now. Even after I called them back and spoke to the daughter. She sounds cool and laughed when I told her 'facilities' was freakin' me out. She said "Oh, don't worry about that. It's fine." I think I squeezed something in there about "please look harder at my animals and the condition they're in instead of Bill's barns". I also explained (a bit) in the second email that we aren't rich, but we love and take good care of our animals. I think it may have been the first email that I mentioned why this is so important to me. Which is Eric. I owe this guy BIG. He says I don't, but he's fulla shit. He not only got Gia for me, he also proved to me that I still exist for a reason and substantiated what my heart knew and no one else believed. All those 70's love songs are true. What they portray does exist (Acidman-which is why I keep saying 'Don't give up yet...'). Eric proves it once a day, every day, all day long. I want to do something really special for him. I toyed with several ideas. One I know, no matter how tempting it is sometimes, is a bad idea and illegal. Plus, I'm not 'connected'...if ya catch my drift. Then, I have this other idea that I'm not giving up on til I make it happen which is to somehow get him a decent lawyer. The coolest idea so far, is getting him this horse.
The horse has a leg problem, yes. But their vet said he'll be okay to ride, not to show jump, in a little while. If all we can do is ride him bareback around here, wonderful. That's all we want. I don't show anymore and Eric doesn't rodeo. But, we both miss it. And horses. Just being able to climb on board and canter off across a field, wind in your hair, sun on your face and the feel of such a powerful entity fused to you body and soul. My God. I don't know who said it, but whoever they were they were dead-on right..."There ain't nuthin' wrong with the inside of a person that the outside of a horse can't fix."
I want to give that to Eric.
That freedom. That exhileration. That rejuvenation after a day of stress around here.
Granted, that's not the only thing I want to get for him, but it is one hell of a start. IF this place passes inspection. And, if I haven't mentioned it before (I have), this place is barely workable for the cows. It's not completely hopeless, though. First of all, there are places around here where there can be some really nice horse areas and secondly-I'll be doing it. Not Bill.
I just hope they see it that way. I have this numbing feeling I'm gonna wind up in tears trying to explain the 'Eric' part. Maybe because my throat is tightened up to the diameter of a pencil, right now. Just writing about it is hard enough to do dry eyed. I can just see verbalizing it. To strangers. That I don't want thinkin' I'm goofy. People that I need to favorably impress. You know that old "the harder ya try, the more ya screw it up" thing? Well, Hello, I've been the poster chick for that since 1963. Every freakin' year. I'll be relieved and surprised if I manage to not say 'fuck' in front of them. Merciful GOD,I'm scared. If I mess this up, it'll be sooo much worse than anything I've ever blown for myself. I have GOT to pull this off. Got to. For Eric. Which is probably why I feel like I'm gonna be arguing in front of the Supreme Court, or something. Pressure. I feel like I could give Freddy Mercury a whole new idea about pressure right now. And, not helping myself one damn bit, I just took two horse pills of Ephedra. I need to get the house cleaned back up. Won't be too hard. Not after last weekend. But, at first light, I also have to go do something with a barn or two around here. I'll be taking more Ephedra before then. Oh, and I'm still drinking coffee from when I got up. I'm currently out of iced tea, so I don't see an end to the coffee anytime soon. I'm so tightly wound right now I make that cat in the cartoons with the 'sneak-up-behind-him-and-bark-in-his-ear-thus-causing-said-cat-to-cling-to-the-ceiling-with-his-claws-puppy' look like Bugs Bunny on ether. You know, as in veeeerrry relaxed? Oozing down stairs n shit. Yup. That's that cat compared to me. I guess I ought to go breathe or something and get started. Before I sit here and have a stroke. Or something. Oh...and the pissed off, puzzeled kitten? See the previous post. He was thrilled, let me tell ya. I have GOT to relax.
Posted by: Stevie at 03:06 AM | Comments (62) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
I am friggin' losin' it, here...
Dear Unknown Person whose answering machine I just hung up on,
Sorry.
Sincerely,
Me
I'm sorry. I really did not mean to give you Wheezer's dose of amoxicillan. You know you two look alike. Sorta. Besides, I called a vet. (The second time I tried...) You'll be fine. Mommy is a dipstick. You know that.
Love you Sweet kitty,
Mom Dear God,
Please help.
Thanks Big Guy,
Me
Posted by: Stevie at 01:39 AM | Comments (60) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Shoulda done this in the first place...
This is what a Fish Sandwich Freakout is.
I should have linked it last night, but my brain was still fried at that point in time.(Worse than usual, that is...)
Posted by: Stevie at 12:46 AM | Comments (63) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 24, 2003
An excellent antidote....
To being visually accosted by an account managing pervert is the 'Fish Sandwich Freakout'. I can't stop laughing long enough to type. I swear, I'm about to rupture something...back to Gregs StR archives...(By the way 'StR' is short for Season to Risk...'kay?)
Bye.Posted by: Stevie at 12:39 AM | Comments (57) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 23, 2003
Just by the way...
I re-installed the Yahoo IM to talk to TED, not be visually assaulted by a pathetic asstard.
Just for the record.Ya know?
Posted by: Stevie at 11:43 PM | Comments (57) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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