Technology! A gianormus pain in my ass!

So it’s been a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitle bit since I’ve even logged into anything on my PC.  (Thanks, smart phone.)

Which is a shame, really.  I forget how much I did like tooling around on it, doing things phones can’t (yesss, computers are still better!)  Catching up with everything means I have to verify all my emails and passwords and so on… I have a feeling I forgot one or two along the way.  Oh well, will come across them when the time comes, I suspect.  What was a little unsettling about recovering email, they knew my phone number despite my never having given it to them.  Hmm.  Makes ya think.

So in between activating a new phone, logging into emails, cleaning up favorites lists… Which, frankly, is really a boring bit of time murder, I tell ya.  And this chair is fairly uncomfortable after about five minutes.  (Now I’m remembering why I don’t sit at the PC so much.  My back always protests against this seat.  Need to get a new one!) …Well, in between all of that, found several files I’d forgotten all about in my little folder!

I love coming across “beginnings” of things, or my notes, as I tend to just ramble a long theory out on a processor page and tuck it away for later.  Usually because I’m already in the middle of about-oh-three or four other things.  Got gobs of those all over the place.  One I randomly thought of the other day and swear I have with me, but can’t find the notebook I put it in.  Have ransacked all my caches multiple times.  Grrr.

Not sure if I’ve gotten comfortable with the setup yet, if that’s what keeps me from sitting down so much.  Uncomfortable chair, I used to smoke like a freight train when I wrote, (started back on that, unfortunately I suppose), but I did find a Pandora station most like the one I loved to tune into with the satellite.  Yay!

Somehow, it feels like things are coming together a little more…

Just gotta stop flopping on the couch when I get home, but after working 8+ hours in a sweltering southern shop, I barely got enough steam to take a shower, let alone cook supper!  By then, it’s seven or eight, D comes home from work, and if I don’t pay attention to him 😉 he gets a little pissy with me.  But, he does have a point, we don’t get a whole lot of time to spend together given our schedules.

Either way, I have a feeling I’m going to be glued to my PC for a bit in the near future.  Tends to happen when I get rolling on anything that is started on one platform or another.

[And I solved all but one of my Sherlock Holmes game cases… *Sigh* Was addictive fun, that.]

Just gotta get my hands on some Biofreeze.

Heh.

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On a rather unsettling note, I had sent off a story in, oh, early 2000’s? that was set in a world where science improved society through the research afforded from purchased aborted fetuses, and had gotten a bit out of hand.  (Too “abstract”, I think was the word they used.)

Then I see the news a few days ago.

D said, “That’s kinda creepy.”

Ya ain’t shitting.  Cuz it didn’t end well for those folks.

Woe is me

So I was invited to participate in a Creative Element.

To be honest, that scares the shit out of me. I know I mentioned before being approached by a “real writer” for participation in a “group” and about shitting myself when they called me out on it.  So freaked I lied my ass off about it.

And he smiled…. And knew I was lying my ass off.  😀

I know it’s the same for any field, really-no one is ever truly confident, especially if it’s a medium you’re attracted to but weren’t “trained for”.

I mean, I’m not super-ego when it comes to the work I do in my day job, but I’m way more confident there.  There are even times I know it was my training and gut instinct because of such that GOT me to a point-and I might sweat the occasional time (fucking rare times, because I’m so retentive about my diagnosis process) I have to explain my logic-but at least there I’m always justified.  That’s all logic.  (And I love logic.  I can’t stand when anything or ANYONE is illogical.  And I run into too many people that are entirely illogical.  That makes me flat out fucking MENTAL to be honest.  “But that doesn’t make SENSE!” I will scream.  Yeah, literally, I do that.  If it doesn’t make SENSE, I don’t GET it!  Where is the LOGIC?  Where is the BALANCE?  Logic!  Logic, logic, LOGIC, you dwix!)

How the fuck do you justify a “creative art”?

It’s always been in my belief, mostly based in ART (which I stink at-REALLY stink at) that it’s an expression, a pleasure, a vent valve for the brain and soul-something that just HAS to be done.  It’s not about what someone else thinks of it, it’s what YOU derive from it.  That is Art.  Maybe that’s misled of me to say, but I never look at anything (even things I think are complete shit, that’s just my OPINION) and say to the person, “OMG you SUCK!  What are you THINKING?  Find another outlet!  If you CAN, you clueless piece of tripe!  THIS is not for you!”

But I will in the next breath grin real big and ask, “Does it make you happy to do?  Yeah?  Then why the fuck are you listening to me, do your thing!  Be happy!  Not self conscious!”

Anyone that ever says that [prior mean rebuke] to someone else?  Is a complete raging and judgmental (and self-depreciating) asshole.

Is it imagination, creation, rendition?  Okay!  Good start!

Are you happy doing it?

Fabulous!  Two out of two!

Is it an outlet, a release, a way to express (psychos and nutters excluded, it doesn’t count if your “happy tap”  involves manipulating/mutilating anyone/anything other than yourself)?

Brilliant!

Keep doing it.

I don’t think anyone that ever really has a passion they must “tap” does it because they want to be recognized for it.  It’s just something that must be done.  And honestly, I think it’s a sad thing that people hold back because they think, “I”m being judged if I do it.  I’m not any good.  I’m not ‘it’.”

Maybe it’s easier for me, because in the informal sense, I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of the dribble I’m leaving in the world.  As long as the people I KNOW aren’t the ones to know that’s ME leaking that bile all over.  I do ask that all my shit is burned with me in the crematory, and no one ever know how bizarre my imagination tends to get and thusly drive me to contaminate two laptops, one PC and the web.  [It’ll only get worse, too!]  It’s gotta get out some way-I’d rather squirrel my ramblings than be miserable and pent up with no avenue of “release”.

I had/have one story that sorta touches on that… I’d heard so many creative/imaginative/fascinating people in my life say, “Oh, I”m not ___”

….

It always pisses me off when I hear someone say that.

“It doesn’t MATTER what other people think, okay?  Are you happy with your vent?  Are you happy with your art/writing/music/EXP?  Then fuck them!  Why do you care what anyone thinks?  It’s not about them, now is it?  And who can really decide that any way?  Do you do this because you expect to get fame, recognition or money?  [If you do, it isn’t real art, BTW]  You do it to satisfy yourself-your soul-you’re going to discredit all of that with ‘public/critic opinion’?  Think about it-who are you really doing any of this for?  Them?  Hell no.  You?  Well, hell yeah!

So maybe you dare to share-maybe you get noticed, maybe you get liked-that’s just a side-effect.  One that does come with it’s own strings.

Art, in any form, in my opinion, is the mind of the artist.  That’s what I love to see.  What I admire most is the person that doesn’t follow the expected, but someone that just “does” because it’s what they feel.  It’s something you have to do.  Something you feel, something you HAVE to feed, something you will feed, but ultimately something that feeds YOU.  (Yeah, and it’s never enough-something else always pops right up behind the last, just as you’re heaving a sigh of relief, something else is scratching at your brain:  bad news, folks, it never goes away.  It never leaves you alone.  Accept it.)

All that being said, I know the industry rebuttal:  “Well, it’s just cuz you don’t cut the mustard!”

wuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhl…. They probably don’t use that ancient code, but it’s the same thing right?

I’ve had rejection letters [pressure to test the waters I didn’t even wanna temp!]-and most of them I was kinda  proud of.  (Once I got done cursing and actually read them.)

I was slated as a bit TOO different.  Interesting, unusual, “imaginative”, orative [yeah, I tend to use conversation as a driver, but to me that’s how life is driven] but not mainstream enough to drive dollars.

At first, I was a little offended. [Yeah, just a little.  It was like being rebutted for something you already knew] But then I had to laugh.

“Course I am… I’m not cookie cutter.”

And to be honest, I like that.  I don’t fit a mold, I’m not “good”, my syntaxr sux, my spelling is bad, my grammar is atrocious, I sometimes address the “blue” (and not the kind you medicate, the kind you avoid) and I build disgusting worlds only to beat them out in the end.  Get the picture?

I’m pretty sure that’s why I don’t bother any more.  I know what will come back to me.

But remember all-I [we] only ever do this to vent the valves-to entertain myself-to just get “whatever” out of me in “whatever form of a world” it may be at the time.

I “used” more than enough college ruled notebook paper when I was young just to scribble out fantasies and worlds-still have them, though I can’t read or follow the most of them, really.  Used pencil… Doesn’t hold up well.  Lotta grey and not naughty a fifty shades of it.  (gag)

The one common thread through all of my life… There better be some way for me to write-or I’ll start marking up walls with an ink pen!

🙂

So, of course I’m daunted by “sharing” my crack-habit in any way shape or form that I could be directly called out upon.  Cuz I can’t explain myself.  I can’t explain my habit.  I really can’t say why I do what I do, or what I get out of it-I don’t know my damn self.  I’m sure some smartass shrinker could try to come up with a theory, but it’d be too late.  (I’ve already written about them-heh-yeah, I studied that myself. Pysch, yup-I’ve already looked into all of that.  I well know the drill they’d set into the press.)

I only have one justification for my addiction:

“Damnit, I’m a ASDF junkie!  What do you honestly expect?! ”

And that’s it.  Let me have it, damnit.

XD

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Can you burn a blog?  Mmm…. No, but I know how to delete one.  It’d be a line in my will:  “KILL ALL MY RAVINGS! All the printed, all the laptops, all the discs, all the hardrives!  ALL OF IT!  DESTROY!  I am NOT mad!”

heh heh

Or maybe I really am.

Cheers all-find your outlet and embrace it, and don’t ever-EVER-for one instant be ashamed of it.

Just leave no traces behind!

Ayaaa–I’m kidding!

I think.

😉

Things that just-hit wrong

So it’s been a while – AGAIN…

So much is going on, while at the same time, nothing is.  I don’t know if that makes any sense, really.  But that’s the way of it these days.

Go to work, deal with the drama there-come back to this lil pile and deal with it’s drama  – WHICH-horribly enough, we are only down to two burners on our stove and the fridge now freezes – well -EVERYTHING!

I have to schedule the time for replacement a day Bungle is here, as I’m damn sure they don’t replace appliances on a Saturday… What is bad about it, I have my neatly tetris aligned freezer goods as well as my fridge content, and “changing” equipment is about the same as moving.  Entirely disruptive.

I need to get rid of a lot of deliciously stowed food!

Just cuz.

The oven?  Well, I need to empty it of my few pans and racks, but I can definitely deal with that… Wait, they’d disrupt the olive oil and timer cache I have on the top of the darn thing.

Either way-it would be a hard day, and as I can’t be here-I have to stick him with it-which is worse, because it’s just… It’s too close to a job.

Same thing I go through, really.

When Bungle comes home, he doesn’t want to cook-he doesn’t want to clean-he doesn’t want to even MOVE.  Move, well, he has to move nonstop for ungodly amounts of time.  I get pissed FOR him, but he just always endures and plugs on and fights to make “His Kitchen” better-what he expects-and I respect that-but I also don’t like to see him grinding his heels down for it.

Not wanting to do your job when you come home?  Well, I don’t blame him.  If it has anything to do with he and I on the way of a vehicle shitting out on us, I don’t want to deal with it.  That isn’t “helping” that isn’t “fixing”.  That is just a chore!

When I come home, I don’t want to work on his car (mainly because I’m just spending money, not making it.  My brain still never recognizing how much I save by it all), I don’t want to repair anything, I don’t want to clean my “work space” I don’t half the time even want to move myself.

I imagine that is how all jobs/lives go.  Who really wants to do anything remotely relative to their work when they get a day off.  So we grab we can in common.  Tough row to hoe, given.  WTF does any of it really have to do with each other, besides being orderly and in place – my Mizenplaz -(SIC) that’s just how I hear it, and how I know it, and how nuts I get when anyone in my sooty, greasy little joint clashes with me.  “Yeah, you thnk working with a female is working with a ‘bitch’?  No, damnit, forcing me to work with you is FORCING me to BE A BITCH!  So-DEAL with it!  You twat!  Stop stealing my tools and stop leaving my bay in a shit-heap after you do it!  That’s just being a full on DICK about it!”  Have I ever mentioned how much I despise a thief?   I will do so now.  Thieves are lowest of low.  Don’t steal from me what you could win if you appealed to me.  I’d give anything to help anyone-but don’t ever take it from me.  Don’t steal.   Thieving is stealing and lying and smiling at you while they do it.  The worst of any character kind.

All in a day’s work, though, right?

Yeah, well, that’s how one must go into it.

What I’ve grown to find a little interesting (as well as disturbing) is a damn Kiwi animation he showed me.

He got ribbed for it, naturally.  “the one night you guys get together to ‘snuggle’ (for you innocents) and you say ‘hey, have you seen the kiwi vid’?”

Which left me weeping for the rest of the night, and him likely probably pretty sore he even showed it to me.

“I cried too!”

“Well fuck you, I don’t want to cry!  I hate this!  Why did you show me this?!”

What’s weird is that time to time, I still look that damn thing up.  I suppose whatever mood hits, or however low I feel ,or-I don’t know, I look it up, I watch it again, I cry again.

If I were to stand back and observed, I suppose I’d say that it reflects too much.  That there are so many things to take away from it.  Feelings, desires, follow-through, I see that one alot.

Mostly I just suspect the guy wanted a good grade and probably thought it was a funny ending.

What always gets me though is that tear.  And I think that’s what gets everyone.

Everyone human, really.  People take away from it their own situation, I believe.  Whatever you’re feeling at that time, that stupid fucking animation will oblige.  And yes, no matter where you are, your situation-you will cry.

Unless you’re a complete sociopath or part of the project!  You can bet your ass anyone involved in that clip didn’t tear one little bit!  They were looking for an A!  Okay, maybe they teared a little bit when they realized they’d hit upon it.  Yeah?

I suppose I went back to it this time as I haven’t really seen my guy in three days.  He snores in my ear time to time, and he tried to take my pillow last night-but I don’t see him even in those situations.  Have to keep things BlackedOut so he can sleep.   I get up, I go to work, and it’s a whole other world there.  It’s suddenly sunrise and issues of almost asinine natures.  Puzzles I like, so when I don’t get them even there, I get grumpy.  Come home-fix what I can here (including dinner, cat anxieties, stopped up drains and scalded boilers) and just – think, I suppose.  Been a while since I’ve done that.  Just-Listen.  Listen to everything around me.  No music, no voices-nothing-just-listen to what IS around me.  It’s rather intriguing what happens in a supposed quiet.

It sux living alone, I suspect.

I mean, entirely alone.  I can’t say I know “alone”, because I know that eventually, I will see my guy again.  We’ll hang out for the time we get.  I’ll see him the odd passing at lunch later on, or if I get home before he goes-it’s just strange, to be honest.

It’s almost like there are two different planes of existing that meet a bizarre flex in the middle.  It works-and it keeps hanging on-but it’s just strange.

I’ve told him before, “It’s like we’re dating again”

We leave notes, we grab what minutes we can-but we both know:  it’s going to go away for a bit.  For a long bit.  Just at least be there when the long bit is over.

It’s something he mentions a worry of time to time.  “alone so long, bored, anxious-blah blah blah”

I supposed I’ve never really told him I’m okay on my own.  Always was.  Give me a pen and some paper-or just show me a path in the woods-give me a creek or a river to sit beside and watch and listen-or just some pine topped cliffside-anything.  I’m okay on my own.  That being said, I don’t like to be alone.  And even if we are separated, I never really feel “alone”.  Time “by myself” ends-I reconnect with the world, my world-and then I can go away again.

Sounds a bit loopy, I suspect… Sitting here looking down at the KB and realizing that.

“oh, that’s bat-shit-crazy!”

I dunno.

I’ve been through so much already-WE’VE been through so much already… What’s a few days, really.  Time lost, but time met so much sweeter.

Well, at this point, I’ve rambled more than I ever should have.

Cooking dins, he closing shop on a notoriously dangerous night-I still say he should put that shit on utube-it’s hilarious what happens after hours!  And, if I were the special cases involved:  mortifying.

Seems Shame no longer exists these days.  Or, perhaps that Demon has Won The War.

Kudos, in that case, but please don’t make your minions shit on back door, k?

Fav colour blue-woke up the other morning to a note and polish:  he remembered I like blue-he remembered I used to love to paint my nails.

I wonder myself why that was “used to” for me.

I still love to paint my nails.  I stopped for some reason…

I think, really, I’m sorting myself all over again.

So!  That sink is draining like a sieve!  Cat got walked (and crazy) other got it’s iron in liver dinns, supper is away, cat box is a-ok, shower is clean, kitchen is clean, dishes are done-WORK is done (tools were bought, BUT AT A DISCOUNT!  I SWEAR!) and we’re all just waiting for closing.

🙂

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all that being said:  I miss everyone.  I hate I haven’t seen my nieces in person.

I hate it’s just pictures I get.  I know I’m a terrible reciprocator-it’s not an excuse, it’s just how I’ve always been-and what I’m trying to break…

But I do so much enjoy seeing them.  I so enjoy to see everyone is well in their own way, and building like.  I can’t be there, really I suspect I don’t want to be-which I imagine is entirely misunderstood-but I do mean it.  I am happy to see the world thriving around me.

Very.

ahh, and on that note-I just burned the mac-n-cheese_the stench had me lunging for the crappy half oven we have now, yeah?  HOW I can do that, I don’t-well…. Hell, I can burn water if it’s been left to me to boil.

Pinky’s on a hot-shit high, thinking he’s Magellan for having gotten a rare 11 pm tour de parking lot-

I still have more to do for dinns-and-hey, hey!  In a few hours!

I’ll see Bungle again after the days’ long absence-

..

Heh.  And yeah, I did get pissed off and moody and throw my phone into the wall.

But then again, I got problems.

Who doesn’t, eh?

On that, sleep well-and God Bless.

 

…..and lately I check out listening to Gorillaz Plastic Beach… Vids are half for shit if you watch the “Album” but the album and music itself?  The words to all… I suppose haunting.

And a little bit ominous.

Ppl that TRY to hit you

So I leave the apartment to go back from lunch and come upon another fellow worker’s totally DESTROYED car in the cut-through.  Run over by the trailer of a Semi!  Geez!

Seems they “slid”?  Or rather just were texting and gassed a little too soon-either way, it was a total shock.  Weird as s* to see, too!  Of course, I was first so curious to see that kind of damage and collision in that particular place-then realized it was someone I knew-and my first instinct was to ask if they were okay, did they need anything, were they uninjured?  Was someone coming to help?

What do the other techs do?  Pile into a car (I passed them, and thought WTF are there so many techs in one car for?) and took pictures and vids and-I don’t know their reason, but it was probably a bit cruel.  And gossipy.  Those boys goooooooooooossssssssssiiiiiiiiiiippppppppppp!

And I mean that longer than the word was misspelled!

I don’t think they really cared if the driver was okay, it was just something to talk about.  They’re [the driver is] sporting a hard goose-egg, and I insisted, “Get that checked out, you don’t even know what your head hit, you could be concussed-be careful going to sleep, yeah?”  That’s a bit of exp talking, but regardless-anyone hurt, injured, totaling a car-why wouldn’t I empathize?  Why wouldn’t someone show concern?  I guess I’m not one of the common folk in this area any more.

I don’t care whose fault it was, or wtf caused the incident, someone I know is hurt?  That’s what what I first focus on.  “Get checked out!”

“I don’t have insurance yet-I still can’t afford it-”

“Yeah, I’m in your boat too, but you have to make sure-”

“I can’t afford it!”

“Yeah… Just… Be aware.  Got someone there with you when you sleep, I hope.  Or get ‘tired’ or anything-a knock like that… Gotta be careful.”

It’s always kinda pissing off/funny when I see Section 8 types get their apartments paid for cheap, medical to the max covered without question-everything they could need or ask for-boom, government coverage-but someone lower middle class?  Hah.  “Well, let’s just hope you’re not concussed-because you can’t afford to find that out, yeah?  See ya on the slab!”

Hmm.  Is the middle class vanishing thanks to cheap-foreign-slave labour, or just uninsured death?

Anyway, along the line of bad fucking drivers here, someone attempted to hit me.  This is the exact reason why I’ve debated a dash cam many times before, and exactly why I’m getting one now.  For me as well as Bungle.  Leaving the grocery store, cross two lanes, sorta hover in the midway, I see the driver in the far right-but you know what?  Thinking I was still moving, they suddenly swerved into MY lane – which, hey, that’s an easy insurance hit!  Especially driving the sort of vehicle they had, and what I drive-tripled by the fact they then realized I didn’t “bite” and they returned to their original lane-

Man, if I carried a gun in my car, I’d be in prison by now, thanks to the dumbass roads and drivers here.  They are infuriating, ignorant, blank, and just flat out-STUPID.

Not a wonder they got named the “worst drivers” in the country by insurance company years long research.  I was totally un-surprised.

I always figured-you know, L.A., N.Y. – been there, done those-yeah, those are angry mfer’s with guns, but I’d yet to had any one of them intentionally try to hit me.  Blow the horn and scream yankee threats, but TRY to hit me?

Lay a finger on my car-OMG-yeah, I’ll roll out of it with some serious biz on the end of me.  Even so catty as a nice 80’s saying, “You’ll get a face full of fingernails!”

So yeah, dash cams.  Kinda a necessity these days.  Look them up on the web sometimes just to see how people can, and DO, manipulate laws and “ideas” if they don’t realize they are being recorded.  And also watch how fast they’ll change their story, or totally RUN, when they realize they’ve been caught committing fraud.

Ah well… Tomorrow is the sixth work day of the week.  Fourth day I have only seen Bungle for about-3 mins a day?  So I get one little wee bit of early morning to spend with him before going back in.  Strange schedules we keep, stranger still how we get through it, I suppose.  We’re to the point of passing high-school notes bewtween us.  Which I admit-I do keep.  When I remember to, I log the dates.  So far, it’s a funny kind of story that gets laid out in our notes.  Always makes me smile, though.  Maybe that’s what gets us through.  Small bit of our day, what is waiting in the oven (providing I didn’t max it and kill it) and saying we can’t wait to meet up to talk-knowing when we do, it will be so damn thorough it will be detrimental to us both that one night.  Regardless?  I still look forward to it!  We get one day-ONE DAY! Or early morning-heck, I’m taking full advantage of it!

Regardless, the attention loving cats like that someone is usually awake in the apartment at all hours.  Sleep on them, run around like a maniac and be yelled at-[me, I throw a well aimed shoe if one gets too wild], but someone is mostly always there.

…And as I type, I got a cat leaning hard into my feet and demanding attention…

While I need to go to bed and get ready for what is shaping up to be an interesting day tomorrow.

I just gotta hope I don’t slip and fall going out, and that my car will make it across The Pond.

Snow is still stacked high, but we had a rare thunderstorm this morning-and rain so fierce I was actually happy to see/hear it because it remidned me of Home.  But at the same time I knew I wasn’t Home:  “It’s gonna freeze.  Which is gonna screw us.  Or in particular me…”

Let’s just hope I don’t get another 4 a.m. call….

I’m pretty damn sick of those.

[Heh-and what would be the note pasted up next?]

We had a saying for the PT Cruisers that got so popular – hell, everyone in the biz did, from shops to rental agencies – “tow ’em in, push ’em out” – I’m starting to think that’s going to be a slogan slapped on Bungle’s car before I know it!

And heck, I might be the one to post it!

 

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have to add this, because it’s now a common thing here – and I laugh my ass off every time-will have to upload the pics sometimes—

We have a cat that sleeps, as we  say by his mood “full turkey”.  He does have a “half-turkey”, which means he’s kinda awake-but the Full Turkey?  Hah!  He looks just like the trussed chickens I roast, like the large birds Bungle slaved over on Last Thanksgiving!

He tucks his legs in deep beneath (as one does a fowl being put “under arrest” for the dish), and sticks his neck out as long as possible-which makes me cringe a bit because I know how that Turkey lost it’s HEAD!  Reminds me of the head between two nails, and WHAM!

Psycho Pinky has it all.  He has his head and neck perfectly extended and stretched for the axe, and his legs and wings all tucked for the roasting process-

Voila.

Turkey!

…And as I check under my feet as I’m not being assaulted by white fur, means he must be sleeping or destroying something else in the house–Nope!  He’s gone Full Turkey.

Which really does make me wonder about his thinking, (and dreams), but also let’s me know-he’s down for the count.

….

Well, at least for a few hours until I’m in bed, Bungle comes home and is fully awake-and then shortly after, I wake up and stir the place-then Bungle wakes up-then I  come home for lunch, stir again-Bungle leaves-I come home FROM work-and-the cycle repeats.

Well, Turkey Cat-we have many pics between us both.  I’ll def have to upload one.

But I must say! Not a one so cute and adorable and applaudable as the many pics I get of – (omg, I’m old as stone!) nieces!

All Banner Strong Bald.  Heh!

Long as I don’t get any pics of them sleeping Turkey style?  I’m okay.

😉

Sleep well, all.

And for you drivers?  keep well insured, check out dash-cams, don’t try to hit MY LS, keep up your maintenance (I just had to professionally condemn a vehicle because of neglect), don’t buy cheap tires, don’t piss off your tech-and don’t text and drive-or you’ll wind up nose deep in a semi-trailer.

😉

And for any working folk:  don’t stay up past the hour you know you’re supposed to be in bed.

Or eat pork-you’ll get the pork dreams.

[I don’t even abide by that one-I love pork.  And as a writer?  Those dreams can be sickeningly inspirational!]

I digress

A wee bit, I suppose.

Took three days before I could dig the LS out of the 2 foot of snow we got over the last several days. [That’d be a week, really.  Just keeps coming at us.]  That’s not accounting for the extra foot that the “very kind and handy keepers” of this lot decided to shove up against my car.

I do have to say this about the “limited edition” manual LS – it’s a BEAST and it’s lovely, and I adore driving it-and I’ll probably get my first ticket in it just for getting irritated at-… [shaking my head now… I’m constantly amazed by the state, be it their education standards or their licensing] one key point being-

Okay.

You stick shifters, stand up.  You got a problem with the clutch, or whatever it may be (I pray for you it’s just a clutch issue, and nothing anything more serious than fluid loss) and you turn on the hazard lights.  You get into the far right lane.  On a rather dead road.  Yet!  Even a school bus will creep up behind you.  And creep… And creep…

And I’m watching this eejit, “Okay, moron, you are bussing around these children (at the most asinine hours, I’ve found out here they go to school maybe four hours a day-which explains A LOT about A LOT) and you’re creeping up on a car with the hazards on.

Then you got the morons that will creep up, creep CLOSER-and closer-and closer-and nearly hit you-and then start laying on the horn.

“FUCKING hazards here, mo-T!  What do you think that means?  Wait, I bet you didn’t even know you HAD that button yourself!  Let alone what it does-cuz I’m dead damn sure at this point you don’t know what it means!  You just so beautifully displayed that, you FUCKING moron!  Lemme guess, you were educated by the school system here, eh?  Yeah, cuz they don’t seem to be able to figure out flashing lights EITHER!”

That was a fun morning on ice.  One of the many I’ve had to endure for the last couple months.

Still one that astounds me, though.

I suppose one other factor is the rage-wars that happen when one shovels out a parking space.

Bungle, on one hand, has a fabulous SUV with 4-wheel drive options that let him climb practical hills of ice (yeah, thanks to the new tires put on in the shop that lent way to his starter crapping out-yeah, it’s definitely bad, bad, BAD luck to work on that thing)

Especially after his fuel pump crapped out in Baltimore and he called me at four a.m. prior to my having to work a Saturday shift-and then we spent 2 hours waiting on a tow (well, it was the weekend, dontcha know!) and then another 2 hours at  dealership because he needed the car ASAP and while I knew what it was, I couldn’t get the job done in one day-I HAD TO WORK ON OTHER PPL’S S!

Not to mention his freaking out on me the entire time, but I can’t blame a guy who’s been awake for near 28 hours for being a bit testy… Again, I digress.

Well, my vehicle is a particular “luxury performance” make that is swooft to the south.  And believe me, I hear that a lot.  “Well, that’s what you guys all like, yeah?”

“Yeah, well admit it’s pimp shit and get outta my face.  You didn’t even know this thing EXISTED before now, right?”

“Wuhl…”

“MmHmm…”

“Yeah, well what’s it costing you to fix?”

“WUHHLL whatdoya think?  JEEZ!  Thick as bricks, yeah? No, I can’t afford it!”

Regardless, I can’t work on my car because I keep constantly bringing Bungle’s into the shop.  It’s so familiar now that this morning I walked back in to find someone had stuck a sign on the back glass “for sell!  CHEAP!” and I laughed.  I keep telling him to sell it.  I told him that before the MAJOR work done to it.  But afterwards walking out feeling a bit sore in the backside, I said, “Well, you dropped that much on it, you’re kinda stuck with it now, you know?  I don’t play around with that much dosh just for giggles.  I hope you really DO like it.  Because you’re wringing another ten years out of it, so help me G!”

I will say again, “Asssssssss mah Daddy tought me-don’t FIX a car to where you think it’s all done, don’t fill up the tank-don’t think it’s straight-the minute you do, it’s gonna bite you!”

And all sincerity here, thank GOD we are being taken care of.  Fuel pump crapped out on him, but the LS hadn’t gotten terminal, so I could get down to him at 4 a.m. and work a deal with the two companies-because-well, I’m in the biz.

Got his new tires put on (oh yeah, gotta love aftermarket, they’d put the wrong stuff on, so when he had a blown flat, and put the spare on, it nearly destroyed a diff and cost us 600 bucks in new tires) he had them for this very lovely-icey-bullshitty weather.  Timing is always a godsend on this stuff.  The only way he got his car fixed for the major was thanks to [EDIT – shit design]  that-get this-paid out EXACTLY the day we had to write the check out for money we DID NOT have.  And paid out EXACTLY what we needed for the job as well as TP.

He [Bungle] about crapped too, calling me on the job, “You approved it?!”

[Not to mention the service writer was a little leery when I had to leave my audible shop to go outside and ask a lot of questions about his.  Heh.]

I’m like [to Bungle],”Well, take it from me, it’s kinda something you gotta have.  We can work it out if we need to, but we can’t afford that rental/loaner, yeah?  So I approved it.”  So flying by the seat of my pants as I did.

Oh, what was it after that… No start in an alley, had to have a friend drive me to the city-had to drive Bungle’s Beast back out [I hate big cities that don’t know how to manage their traffic, BTW]

This last time he called [one outta every seven days for stuff] and said his CEL was on, I about s*, read his code and said “okay, if it starts to idle funny, you tell me!  But we might be able to eek this one out!”

The irony of it was that the 2 foot snow hit, so when he’s off, I take his car.  And I was sitting at a light, and after a minute thought, “Y’know, this is actually idling a bit funny…. But not BAD so he should be okay!” Famous last THOUGHTS.

Big snow.  SUV slammed through it for two days.  All’s well.  But is next day he has to be in to work,  I get…

Flash forward to another of The Calls:  “It’s stalling whenever I drop RPMs.  Started before I left town, worse when I got into traffic-I had to restart several times and lost power steering-fuckers honking at the hazard lights-”

“Yeah,” I was quick to point out, “These wankers don’t know what that really means.”

“I shot many birds.”

“Good for you, Baby.  Just know, they didn’t understand why.”  I still laugh at that.  I THOUGHT that was standard ED for drivers, but app not here!

Note here:  yeah, guys, if you lose power, that is the first thing to go. Your power steering.  Unless you’re playing in the new park that is running fully electric, you’re kinda screwed if your engine dies.  And even IF youre electric, you’re chancing that all the same unless you’re paying a hefty plan or a lease for one of the models that run off of two batteries.  [Totttttttttal BS if you ask me about those things]

All I said in return:  “Can you drive it home?  Or just get it here?  I know what’s wrong, I know-just get it here.  I can get it to the shop and fix it.” Had already bought the wallet-walloping part.  Took a hit, because I know I had a full “lifetime warranty” on it, I just couldn’t remember the number! Until I left the store, I remembered why I broke down other people’s cars/work done into THEIR numbers, not mine.  Bite me there, but lesson learned!

F if I had a customer scheduled to come in early on me, I got there even earlier to get his car done, because he needed it by noon break.  And of course, that was funny to the rest of the shop.  Yeah, I showed up early.  But I showed up early only to move that customer’s car outta my f”ing way, and drove Bungle’s car in to fix it.  Thus, the sign on the back glass.

Which I loved.

…And which I still agree with.  “SELLLL IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!  I keep saying that, “SELL IT!”

I dunno, he loves it.  And I can’t blame him.  I’ve been there myself.  Many, many, many-well, every car I’ve ever owned-times.  😀

I can’t really fuss about this one, though.  It’s saved my bum many times.  As said, when he isn’t working, I get to drive it.  And I NEED it a lot more these days just to skim across the ice-pond these jerks call a parking lot.  I know damn well my car wouldn’t make it.  His?  Hah.  It slings ice and snow and plows through what most of the dwellers are digging out.  Even while they are.  Kinda an asshole thing to do, but hey-ya got it, work it, right?

No, no one takes his parking space.

Mainly because…. the two foot of snow, I just went out and dug a bit behind his tires and yelled, “start it up, back it out to make sure-but you’re good!”

Meanwhile, some asshole in a sedan has pulled into the “waiting place” to try and take his spot, not realizing that I am not “clearing it” for a low profile vehicle-I’m clearing it for brand new AW tires and a tall SUV.  You ain’t getting into that spot even if Bungle did head out to the store for-… TP and bread seems to be the hot commodity here.  Before, in the home state, it used to be milk and bread with only a HINT of ice…. funny, really.  I don’t ever recall TP being a super hot commodity.  Which is why it was so weird to me up here.  “Milk and TP?  Just what DO you guys do when it snows deep?”

I just couldn’t believe the knackers on that guy, though.  Going to sit there and make it THAT damn obvious if we left a clear space, one which he watched someone toil over, he was going to take.

People here put chairs in the spaces they clean, they plant debris-they boobytrap their parking spaces.  It’s like a weird warzone!

Mine, after I was able to dig it out-well, my little LS still has enough ass to get back into the spot-and back out.  And it’s daunting to anyone else, because it’s still a spot surrounded by snow.  So I always know-it’s open to me.  Heh, heh. [one note here:  wanna know how you’re married to a chef? you say you need to dig your car outta two feet + of snow, and so should probably buy a shovel-and he whips out a bread peel-and it WORKS!]

Driving here, though-ugh!  The snow just seems to compound stupid!

Sometimes I wanna yell as I get outta the car, “Learn to drive, youse arses!  Then maybe you could figure out how to steal this spot too!”

But I know, they’re too lazy for that.

Hmm… So much going on.

Well, we are nearly good buddies with Enterprise now.  Bungle has rented twice from them, in a few weeks, I’ll need to get another for “new training” two states away.  North, even!  Ugh!  I dread it!  And I am not about to take my vehicle into that kind of hostile territory.  Nor Bungle’s.  (spent too much on it already, yeah?)  Too much snow and cold further up, I can’t even take it here!

Freezing my bum off side note:  I do have to give props to a very badass down comforter we got.  (Fun story with that, but I have to give it to the person responsible before I can post it here.)

Shop-War going on, and a  bit of talk about a union lately-which kinda surprised me.  Contract busting and unions-well, that’s just stuff I thought I leaned towards, but seems I’m not alone.  And I am kind of (or may not really be) surprised about how little people do know about legitimate unions.   And by that, I don’t mean guys that get paid 100k a year to just install left hand tires in a production plant.

Unions-you guys really shot everyone in the foot pulling that kinda shit, and you know it.

“I can’t even breathe a word about unions,” I told another tech. (one not so bound).  “But look it up-doesn’t take but a few people and a helluva lot more disgruntled workers.”

Also had to add, “Likely you’ll be fired-buuuuuttt given where we work?  And the fact they were so reluctant to  fire one guy for attempting to set another guy on fire [literally!]? I wouldn’t really worry about it.”

Yeah.

That did happen.

And we’ve had other fabulous drama go down.

I just haven’t-dunno, found the time between the SUV and the LS and meetings with bosses about situations, let alone life in our cardboard environment, to even remember to mention alot of our drama.

🙂  But it’s actually fascinating to work in that place.

And which I think, or maybe fear?  could turn this into “my car rantings/talkings/etc”.

Which might not be a bad thing.  Gotta vent it some how.

Oh, just so you all know (and you Utubers do) do not work in sweats in an indy shop.  Apparently it’s damn easy-and damn tempting!-to blast your pants off.

Oh, yeah, we’re still watching that one and laaaaaaaaaaaaughing as we do!

Ah well dinn’s timer went off, it’s way too late for me to be awake, and as I naturally now do-I wait for the 4 a.am. call with car trouble.

Wish you all better luck with your own!

Cuz a car is the LAST thing I know anyone wants to deal with.  So much more going on, yeah?

Snow

Last winter it only snowed here… Once?  Maybe twice.  What was cool about the second one was that afforded us a White Christmas.  Something I haven’t seen in a long time.

Supposed to snow again, I suppose that’s why I reminded of this-and what still sort of bothers me about it.

We don’t live in the nicest of places, and considering most people in this town are just as financially limited, that’s the bulk of the housing out here.

We see a lot-and I mean a lot-of eviction notices taped to mailboxes.   There are days they’ll slap two or three up at the same time.  Gotta be depressing to find that sort of thing waiting for you.  Even if you know you should expect it.

I had yet to see anyone get “thrown out”.

But the other day, coming home from lunch, I got into the parking lot to find someone had been ejected.  Or rather, their things had been.

Someone had gone into their apartment and carried everything out-piled it in the parking lot, in the snow and ice, and just left it there.  Who knows how much of it that had been there was already taken.  (Bit of thievery around here, too.)

I’d like to think the person just left behind what they couldn’t carry in their car.  A bed, couch, table-bookshelves and big lamps-hard to pack that into a little vehicle if you’re desperate and have to vacate-but can’t afford to move any more than you could afford the rent.

I’d like to think that.  But that evening, everything was finally gone-so I suppose they got help from somewhere.

It was just kind of sad to see.  Someone getting thrown out in this kind of weather, in that kind of way…

“Pay your bills, buddy,” I know, but still… It’s darn cold out there.

I wonder if we’ll start getting used to seeing that sort of thing as well.

I hope not.

 

Wow, so the time it be a ticking….

I think there is so much going on here that I never want to admit to-

Much less deal with.  Hand in glove, sort of.  Acknowledging one demands admission of another.  And in a way, it just all boils down to a percieved failure-that-I’m finding out isn’t, but something that I take as one.  And so something I inadequately handle as one.

I just had to wade through several work shirts, a few coats, one very hot pink Kitchen Warfare hoodie to find the original notebook before I found the link again.  I type this while glancing over my shoulder to the still cardboard boxed “living suite” I live with-and Teddy (Theodore for you particular pricks) from Alvin’s gang hanging out on my coin-change-sour-cream container.  He’s holding down the quarters for the overpriced laundry situation here.

Hmm… Well, regardless of Teddy’s astute guard against the Evil White One (our new resident with a lot of pink on him), I realized I had to dig through a lot of unrelated/or was priorly related “books” to find this info.

“oh, golly geez!” I sez to myself, ” I need to clean this all up!”

And yeah, I swore a lot [still do], and kicked a lot (no, never at the Pink him!) but I now need to revise the book of… passwords and association.  SL is over, so this is-no longer just a side of fabulous hair? Or maybe it is… I don’t know any more.

To be honest, I put myself into a blur.  And yeah, I say “put” it was entirely intentional if even in a suspected subliminal sense.  Smart?  Oh, well, hell no.  C’mon, when ever is self deprivation and self delusion smart?  Who ever blindly sets up for destruction when they don’t really want it?  Ahh, just-difficult to explain or even understand, really.

I had one week vacation around christmas…. I was ticked off that I couldn’t go Home to see our families.  No, our jobs don’t work or coincide like that. Adding here, you f’ing food industry personnel are INSANE, you hear me?  You’re so a different breed!  I will NEVER understand it!  But I DO appreciate it!  Because those mornings that the ice is 3″ deep, and the roads are impassable, and I take the keys to someone else’s 4WD out (no, not a customer, my heavily overtaxed[tired] husband), I can always get a burger-or a gyro-or a freaking soda!  And while I do?  I just want to yell through the window, “Start a union, idiots!  Why are you here?!”

And I know they wanna yell out at me while they throw that said soda in my face, “You Paid Crackers in Lincolns!”

And I’d so throw it all back, “I’m working on your colourless cars, assholes! Err, well, your boss’s car-he didn’t show up did he-yeah, but–wuhl!  Damnit! We’re in the same game, okay?  We’re all getting fucked for being poor!  And staying poor in this asshole state!  Thank you for the warm bit of whatever, and if you need an oil change, call me!  And tell your boss to fuck off!  I know I wanna do that to mine!”

Regardless…

Life here has been disgustingly inadequate. That’s as amply as I can put it.  Bungle and I dream of our kitchen.  We dream of our deck.  We dream of our oven, and our tools and our couches.  We dream of a hallway, and rooms and offices.  We dream of a freaking house.  I even dream of the cement slab and the work lights, the “tool box” I had-the hedgerows I would tend-the trees I would trim-the yard I would clip and maintain while we fought with a 50 era mower to shear the lawn .  Hmm.  All we had there-and all we gave up.

We’re embarrassed that all of That is squatting in other people living spaces.  Rooms, garages, back-houses.  We hate that this is to the extent we-well, it’s cut and run, really.

And how…

Me… I just want my old self back. House and yard aside?  Yes, I want that.  But I more want my characters back (G knows they hound the hell outta me!) I want my kitchen back-hey, it was the core we loved of our house, we always loved/and still love to cook for others-I want the MAZDA_lol_that was a joke… but I do miss my Bomba.  It got me through so much.  Carried me through an education to a leather bound Lincoln-THAT-IS-EXPENSIVE to fix!  sue me, it’s a gorgeous limited edition motor vehicle, I had to have it.  Heh, heh.

I don’t know what happened to me in that space, though.

For some reason, I just-ran away from everything.  So weird to do that with everything I love and cherish.

I suppose abandoning this Blog was-well-c’mon, wtf is it really?  Just mad ramblings that do all of dick?!

So…

Rethinking… Yeah, it’s mad rambling that does all of dick.  But I didn’t start it to do anything either, really.  I just started it to express some part of it all.  Journal-document-whatever you want to call it…

And I realize now how much I do ….

ugh…

I hate admitting it…

How much I do like it.

Okay, there, it’s said.

Regardless, Stories are all on the JG collection site-

And I do have to say that Nindy and Schiele gave me a fucking run for my money over the holiday vacation.  OMG I don’t even know how or when to start editing their chaos!  I don’t even know what to THINK about it!

The one I’m -well, slackly working on conversion to Amazon-another one I have to go through with a fine-toothed-comb, but one I can never really separate myself from it because it deals with, well, the tension and confusion in separation…. I dunno.

88 will still be one of my favs… OMG what am I saying, whatever mood I’m in, then the story fits.

Be it mine or any one else’s.

It’s like asking someone, “What is your favourite food?”

“Well, what mood am I in?” I would have to ask.  “Am I feeling happy?  Am I feeling cold and alone?  Or just cold and finishing a good day?  Maybe too hot, sweating and weary?  Am I tired, but do I want to stay awake just a little bit longer to stay with someone?  Am I forcing up on my feet to actually DO the bidding of food?”

How can anyone ever really ask, “What is your favourite food?”

I always hated that question.  I always found it insipid.  And I imagine that is why most people answered “Pizza!”

Well, why not…  It’s the common, easy response.  If in the thick of it, always run with the easy out.  “PiZZA!”

Hah!  And there they go.  And what did you learn?

ooooooooooooh, the stories….

And oh, I have to recheck/repair old digital data.

Hmm.

Well as far as Jacky Green is concerned, Nindy made a mad break for me.

C is about to get uploaded, I just need the RIGHT image for it-

and 88\

Ahh, 88 will always haunt me.

It did the moment it was born, and even though it burned to ashe-it’s still there.

As the “writer”-ooooh, it makes me terribly curious.

_________________________

oh and one last tidbit of music from the mad to anyone else with a unique ear:

“The Secret Meadows” – the Song of the Zhuang

Powerful! 🙂

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Do have to say, Nindy’s story got swift and overwhealming.  So much so, even I have to re-read and censor-edit-understand-what a  strange pair they have turned out to be!

But they surprised me.  So very much surprised me.

Ah, well.

Till I find my senses again-as I so hope to do-

Rest well!

And adios

And all I really logged on for was an update to contact information.  Wow.

well all about a lotta wow…

It’s been this long, WP has changed things dramatically.

I like it, it’s a nice nifty bit of contrast, I can dig it…

I just also realized:  “Holy S*, I haven’t posted in… Well, ass-ages.”

I got my reasons.  They’re also mental reasons, but that’s not something I’m yet ready to “talk” about.

Ever look at the stats for “habits”?  be them good or bad, there is a time frame to it all.  Was part of psych class, which I was so super in to, and so super failed because I thought copying pages from a book for “homework” was bullshit.  And readily stated that. Regardless…  I think “starting” a habit was something in the vicinity of 6 days (I’m excluding hard drugs in this, of course), and breaking a habit.. 14 days.  That I know by heart.  Why? Well, I’ve had to break some habits in my time.  This last one… Whew.  I think it’s going to be a titch more than 14.

But a nice firm wake up call can do that.  In my case, it’s my freaking spine that rebelled against me.  And it was amazing!  I’m like, if I’m the spine, I’d be high-f*ing-fiving myself, “Yeahhhhh I got that, yeah yeah?!  You see that?  BAM!  Pay attention to me @#$#!  I’ll cripple yo ass!  Try and ignore me again, I dare ya!”

Considering what I saw my father go through with back trouble, I am usually very careful.  And probably a bit scared.  But given, at the same time, I’m too damn determined to think past “oooooooh it’s just back pain.”

Hmm.  Probably something I saw (or imagined) as well.  Parent’s are always invincible.

I sleep without pillows now.  Very hard (floor/mat sorta situation, which bungle loathes-but he has a super slinky spine, that MFer).  I had an amazing Yoga/Asana book given to me which I kinda blew off at the start.  Mainly because I had to read close to 200 pages of theory that I approached and flippantly skimmed as just that:  theory.  “Omg, what really?  Okay, you can flop your head between your knees and kiss your own arse, did that really take 200+ to demonstrate?  Or 200+ pages to tell me about your chakra?”

Don’t mistake me.  I like yoga.  I always have.  I can NOT to this day find the “instructional book” that got me into it originally.  I think I was 16 or 17 when I found it at local library.  I paid heavy fines and check out times for it.  But I loved it.  This one I was given–def different?  But in it’s own way.

It’s “posture rehabilitation” (thanks to me not wearing a seat belt as a teen) or core building-which… is… Yoga.

And okay, Yoga is free (no, you don’t need to go to a “hot yoga lab” to get it, gotta love that new trend) but therapy costs money.  Well, not a LOT really, if you DO NOT have insurance.  If you do, well… You’re paying what you would without it, it’s just that WITH, some asshole corporation is taking a nice bite as well.  Health insurance is basically money laundering, IMHO.

“Awww damn!” I knew the minute it happened.  “I’m in a bad way!  No, no, no, it’s not my diet, damnit.  I just wrenched my neck for too long.  Year plus without the chiro I could always limp in to see and…”  Ya know.

So, I had done my research the minute I got out here (that was a year ago) and a year later had to suck up and make the call.  Dizzy as shit, vision down to 2d, “Uhm, yeah, I… Have a problem…”

“What made you chose XYZ?”

“Because I don’t go to anyone that isn’t Palmer, that’s why!”

Not so dizzy stupid I can’t say that.  Heh-heh.

Bungle kindly drove me over, walked me in, and got panicked during because he had read all the mags in the lobby.

But I was happy that I had done my homework.  Albiet I used it late.  Was wierd given, this doc didn’t know my history, my chiro always knew what was going on w/ me.  Knew my fam. Knew my injuries, knew my job, knew my weak points, knew right off “well, darn her, she went too long again!”

🙂

Standing there dizzy as !@#$# “so Ice will fix this?  Omg no, I don’t want medication, I hate that.  No, I don’t want a slip to be outta work, if I’m not capable, I call out.  If I need backup, I’ll call… Yeah, I know, my posture is shit… Yeah…. Wait, what..?  Natural digression with women because we don’t want to stand with good posture and feel we are so sticking our boobs out?  Okay.”

No, he didn’t say it that way, but it was… Pretty clear.

So, I digress.  Can’t afford the therapy, I need the yoga.

And I went back to it…

And I more seriously read that book again.

No, not the 200 pages.  I’m not to that point.   “Blah blah blah, you’re great, flexible, all that yo, I just need to get my… Spine… Okay, wait, that is actually… Something I get.”

So I say this.

The Yoga Asana is… Going deeper, and probably something I should focus on, given….

But it was really nice to get back in touch with that.

And not so nice to realize I have to stick my fat bum in the air and “try”.

“Wiggle, wiggle!  Work yourself!  Don’t force it, work it!  Let your body will it!” was back in my day.  “Stretch-Stretch!  Feel it stretch!

“Omg!” I’d curse within 2 seconds.  “I can’t do this!”

You can’t do this!!   Not now, no, you can’t, but imagine it in your mind!  You WILL do this!

“!@#@#$ you!”

It’s not about what you see others do, it’s about you and working yourself to it!  Work for it! Feel it, earn it!  Work for it!

Which… Is a totally diff approach w/ this book…

As I told a co-worker, “I’m not  going to that freaking ‘hot yoga’ retail center.  Number one, I’m not getting around a slew of 85 lb upper-sluts and sticking my fat ass in the air.  Or trying at least.  Yeah, you think you pooting might be the worst of it?  Just you wait!”

Regardless…

Getting my core back in shape is one thing.

One step.

the rest of my…Issues… well….  that’s right now between me and my butchered up thought process.

😉

One thing at a time.

Okay, so you think that’s embarrassing?

Ever lock your keys in you car?  Yeah, and can’t really get to it with a coat hanger, or those nifty little bladders that wedge out the door, all that…

What’s worse is locking a customer’s key into their car and then having to call and tell them to bring their spare by.  If they can find the blasted thing.  (Most can’t.  If it’s a male that drives the vehicle, no.  If it’s the wife?  Oh, yeah, believe me, that guy thinks he knows more than her.)

Hah!  Was funny, but I was like “OMG!” the minute I realized I’d done it.  What was even worse, was that these newer cars are not supposed to allow that to happen!  They’re proximity programmed, they won’t lock a car if the key is in the ignition-some smart enough to know if it’s in the freaking car!  @##$$ if I didn’t find the one that squatted on that theory!

“Yeah, we just made you drop just shy of a k, but… Our techs are so stupid, they lock keys in cars.”

Mmm… Yeah, they’ll be asking for that tech again.  Heh-heh.

Though I did overhear the funniest thing in the world, and I kept asking was that “for REAL!?” even as I had been standing right there when it all went down.  I couldn’t believe it was real.  I still don’t believe it.  I think the guy was just yanking some chain!

Talking to the SA about a vehicle and work req/suggested, and his phone rings.  And I hear him listen to the telephone babble, as you do, and then him say, “No, no, that’s the parking space 7-11… You’re where?  No, no… No, it was a parking space number.”

Well, 5 mins cut down, I was just laughing, “Are you kidding me?  That guy wasn’t just joking you?  He had to have been!”

No one gets their keys and drives to the nearest 7-11 to find their vehicle-fresh out of a shop.

NO WAY!

But then I’m like–hell, maybe it was real!  Cuz it kinda sounded that way from the end of the convo I heard!

I’m guessing one should never ever ever say, “we put it in 7-11”.

…Like we gassed it up and bought you a soda too or something.  And made a deal w/ those guys so that they didn’t tow cars we just dumped in their lot.

I’m still skeptical about the legitimacy of that one-but it was still funny as shit to overhear going down!

Anyway, the key…

I tend to focus on all the details, and forget the simplest of things time to time.  I now have to put a borrowed jump-box directly under my legs while I drive a car into the shop so that I remember to take it back out.  I used to be so damn happy it did jump I’d throw it in the back seat–and twice they had to call the customers back.  “Uhm… You didn’t happen to see a big battery looking thing in your back seat did you?  You did?  Yeah… Well, could you bring that back by?”

Broke myself of that one.

But now it seems I have to really focus on the freaking key.

😀

Doesn’t help that most of these cars you don’t even need it to make the car start.  If it’s just in your pocket you’re golden.  If it’s just sorta hanging around in the vicinity, you could pinch the mfer and get a duplicate.

I probably shouldn’t say that, huh.

Either way, the car was so smart it was dumb.  And me being dumb on top of it?  Wow.  A whole bag of dumb.

It was old-school all over again.

XD

on another note, been gradually manually loading the iPod.  When I have a few hours to spend streamlining it.  I still stand by the fact that they are stupid little devices and can’t figure out shit from the sun.  They’re great once loaded!

But loading it… UGGGGGGGGGGGGH.

I shouldn’t have to go through this nonsense shit.  I was promised easy synch-I was promised easy music-I was promised easy library interchange!  Did I get it?  Well, F* no, of course not!  That’d be easy!

Apple I dislike you as much as I do like you.  So it’s a f*d kind of love/hate relationship going on there, and we all know how those things go.

Toast

Okay, so I’ve never been good with toast.

We don’t have a toaster, so we do it the good-ol-fashioned way.  Broiler, pan, bread = toast!

Right?

Not if I’m involved.

Getting breakfasts ready for the next few days, and I have to toast bread.

Okay, so knowing myself, I typically plant myself right next to the open door.  The broiler could have been on 15 mins for all I know or care, but the minute the pan goes in, I better be parked with my nose near it.

I’ve done two rounds of toasting, put a third in (cuz I had the stuff to make a 3rd sammich) and… *sniff… Sniiiiiiiiiiif!* “Omg!  That’s burnt toast!”

And here is how I’m rolling.

Because even though I will char bread beyond recognition, I’ve not once priorly had to open an oven and douse flames.

As I just now had to do!

I can cook decent things, damnit!  Why is it I set toast on fire?!

Windows open, but this stink will probably take… a while to get rid of.

And Bungle will get home at 4 am and it will still be lingering, and he’ll take a whiff, then ask… “Did you set some bread on fire?”