I dreaded Saturday, and looked forward to it.
On Friday, a friend of mine reminded me that I had agreed (provisionally) to help with a move.
That was my second mistake. Having friends was the first... But both these guys have been watching my back since the early 80's; so there's NO way... and it's Ken's dad... who really needs the help. (At 80, the only thing you should be lifting is the tv guide, and maybe a golf club... if you're really in good shape).
So, Friday night I'm in the local bar (McGees) having a beer, salad and making arraingments to drive out to Palmdale (about an hour) to meet up at 7 am. That was my third mistake...
... and my ex-boss/friend tries to hook me up with a couple local ladies that he's talking to... (because he can); and I'm just happy to hang... 'cause I know how this goes. (I escape at midnight... or did they?)
---
The only good thing about the morning, is I remembered to not only load the two dolly's; one with air-tires and the pump. I did say early morning...?
---
Up at O-dark hour; and off to Palmdale an hour from Chatsworth. I arrive; my friend gotten a 24 foot lift-gate truck! (Overkill?) we drive over to the storage place... and it's standard height/width (like a 10x12 room; excepting it's DOUBLE-deep!). Oh crap. We start out (rusty at this) inefficent as hell, and get our swing back after a bit... the place is FILTHY. Dust clouds just by walking past the boxes; let alone picking any of them up.
We moved, records, books, old tube-electronic equipment, magazines, unopened domestic items (paper toilet seat covers? -- wtf?), old mail from 10 years ago... and massive quantities of undefinable *stuff*. Remember George Carlin talking about stuff versus crap? There was also lumber; apparently left over from various projects including a re-roof sometime in the distant past. No, I'm not kidding...
And there's more...
WE FILLED a 24 FOOT TRUCK.
Floor to CEILING; Front to Back; and packed reasonably well considering. Then, we drove it all the way to Lake Los Angeles...
Can't get the truck up the driveway; it's steeper than the back of the truck allows; can't back up the driveway, same thing; ... we spend an hour plus trying. The only thing we succeded at (immediately) was busting the hydraulics line that runs the liftgate. Dammit. The truck bed is 5 feet above ground. And, it Gets better.
See, now we can't lower the liftgate, can't position the truck near the destination to unload, and have to muscle all the load out of the truck by hand...
and we find that we have to dolly the load around the back about 100-200 feet via a gravel path. Ever try to run a dolly on a gravel path? Serious arobic workouts have nothing on this. It's like pulling a volkswagen beetle on a rope; thru the sand at the beach.
Some one can figure out how many loads we did (approximately) given that the truck cargo area was 10 feet wide, 7 feet tall, and 24 feet deep; and the only non-moving box items in it were two metal mechanics benches (locked, with stuff inside); three bicycles of rusted ancestry, a big 6' high rolly tool box and some wood. Enough wood to keep your fireplace burning brightly all winter.
Whatever.
I'm a software engineer, dammit. I gave up swamping trucks after college. I'm old, tired and not used to this!
My friend's Dad... really did appreciate it. And said so, and meant it.
I really do love these guys; but...
I hurt. I hurt ALL over.
And remember the law enforcement concept "scared straight"?
I'm going to clean out my garage. Now, before it's too late.
(maybe now they'll help )...
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Sunday, October 7, 2007
2007 Oct 7 - Analysing feelings
Today is a day of reflection.
I have a local pub that I like. One of it's advantages, is that I can park my car in my garage, walk down and ... mostly have no fear of getting a DUI. That's serious in Los Angeles, where without your car you are *nothing*. But, since I'm kinda paranoid about such things, I limit myself to 1,2 beers, which is STILL a lot; hence the walking.
Friday I got very drunk. When I say that I got drunk, I want you to understand the full import of my meaning; and the consequences, the drama, the situation that I found myself.
I had arranged to meet with the ex for dinner, but I met up with my ex- and some former work friends at this pub. They had definitely been drinking before my arrival; this being no surprise because I was still working when she was already leaving. Because one of my friends there bought me a beer and the ex bought me a beer plus a scotch... and then I had ordered a beer of my own; I was well and truely lit. In fact, I would venture to say that this wasn't one of my more lucid and sober moments. In fact, grace had no part in it.
What I do remember is my ex- telling me that I could "leave" now, as she exited the table with this guy that had joined us... which was I think at the 5 or 6 drink mark. Not sure, but suspect... however very clear on the fact that all the other people had left; and that she was going to hang out; but that I was not invited. That's ok, but (well, you'll see).
I apparently called a friend and talked on the phone, I KNOW that I walked home; and somehow managed to shower, undress, worship at the god; and fall into bed. Dammed if I know how, but the evidence is definitely there. Fortunately, I didn't apparently do any lasting damage. However, that's not the point necessarily of this particular diatribe.
Now, I go stumbling home as described earlier in this missive; and am awakened by her son around 2 am, because she'd been picked up by some of the local finest and had left her car on the boulevard. She wasn't anywhere to be found, son wanted to have me come pick him up for purposes of recovering the car and his mom; and I'm in no condition to walk, let alone drive. And... there's no way I can help. So, he'll call me in the morning.
Morning, and I'm still sick as a dog. Not only that, but I find my alcohol test gadget, get it lit and take a reading... 10 plus hours later, and I'm still 0.011%, which means that I've burned about .XX points (give or take) an hour ... hmm. Yup, stupid.
I call her house, get the son who tells me that he got a ride about 4 am to pick up her car, and that somehow she made it "home" while he was out, courtesy of some friend (who I don't know, but probably was the gent she picked up in the bar. Who by the way, I'll give credit for being resourceful enough to keep her from getting arrested. Again.)
So, to recapture the evening... I meet up with my ex and some friends for drinks (supposedly for dinner), she tells me to shove off(cause she's met someone interesting), gets drunk enough to get a DUI and rescued by a new-friend in a limo; ... and I'm going to hang around for more of this? She still hasn't paid me back all of the money she used to bail her son out of jail in January, nor any of the promised back rent... but I promised her mother (literally on her deathbed) that I'd look after her. But see, I know that she can't afford it. If she could, she wouldn't be hitting me up for grocery money. That's not going to change, but I wish she' d at least acknowledge it...
Anyone want to buy a suit of armor? I'll let it go cheap.
yea right.
I have a local pub that I like. One of it's advantages, is that I can park my car in my garage, walk down and ... mostly have no fear of getting a DUI. That's serious in Los Angeles, where without your car you are *nothing*. But, since I'm kinda paranoid about such things, I limit myself to 1,2 beers, which is STILL a lot; hence the walking.
Friday I got very drunk. When I say that I got drunk, I want you to understand the full import of my meaning; and the consequences, the drama, the situation that I found myself.
I had arranged to meet with the ex for dinner, but I met up with my ex- and some former work friends at this pub. They had definitely been drinking before my arrival; this being no surprise because I was still working when she was already leaving. Because one of my friends there bought me a beer and the ex bought me a beer plus a scotch... and then I had ordered a beer of my own; I was well and truely lit. In fact, I would venture to say that this wasn't one of my more lucid and sober moments. In fact, grace had no part in it.
What I do remember is my ex- telling me that I could "leave" now, as she exited the table with this guy that had joined us... which was I think at the 5 or 6 drink mark. Not sure, but suspect... however very clear on the fact that all the other people had left; and that she was going to hang out; but that I was not invited. That's ok, but (well, you'll see).
I apparently called a friend and talked on the phone, I KNOW that I walked home; and somehow managed to shower, undress, worship at the god; and fall into bed. Dammed if I know how, but the evidence is definitely there. Fortunately, I didn't apparently do any lasting damage. However, that's not the point necessarily of this particular diatribe.
Now, I go stumbling home as described earlier in this missive; and am awakened by her son around 2 am, because she'd been picked up by some of the local finest and had left her car on the boulevard. She wasn't anywhere to be found, son wanted to have me come pick him up for purposes of recovering the car and his mom; and I'm in no condition to walk, let alone drive. And... there's no way I can help. So, he'll call me in the morning.
Morning, and I'm still sick as a dog. Not only that, but I find my alcohol test gadget, get it lit and take a reading... 10 plus hours later, and I'm still 0.011%, which means that I've burned about .XX points (give or take) an hour ... hmm. Yup, stupid.
I call her house, get the son who tells me that he got a ride about 4 am to pick up her car, and that somehow she made it "home" while he was out, courtesy of some friend (who I don't know, but probably was the gent she picked up in the bar. Who by the way, I'll give credit for being resourceful enough to keep her from getting arrested. Again.)
So, to recapture the evening... I meet up with my ex and some friends for drinks (supposedly for dinner), she tells me to shove off(cause she's met someone interesting), gets drunk enough to get a DUI and rescued by a new-friend in a limo; ... and I'm going to hang around for more of this? She still hasn't paid me back all of the money she used to bail her son out of jail in January, nor any of the promised back rent... but I promised her mother (literally on her deathbed) that I'd look after her. But see, I know that she can't afford it. If she could, she wouldn't be hitting me up for grocery money. That's not going to change, but I wish she' d at least acknowledge it...
Anyone want to buy a suit of armor? I'll let it go cheap.
yea right.
Friday, October 5, 2007
2007 Sept 08 - Another night's energy uselessly spent?
o, I go to the usual hangout (McG's) and have entirely too many beers (guiness); and end up talking to my neighbor again... and fixing a quick bite for the wee hours. He takes one home to his girlfriend (who's getting off work) and he and I eat ours... with the standard salad.
ok - boring as hell. But he goes home to his very hot girlfriend... and I end up with cats (as usual). But I can cook! I complain (to the universe at large).
No one listens.
ok - boring as hell. But he goes home to his very hot girlfriend... and I end up with cats (as usual). But I can cook! I complain (to the universe at large).
No one listens.
2007 Apr 29 - Cats, the search for room-mates, and WHAT is that smell?
I have 4 cats.
Three are c/o of a ex-who bugged because we had THE argument.
She took two, left the rest. The two I liked the best went; and left me with
(a) the Manipulator (see --- I'm cute, feed me...),
(b) the shy one (somebody MIGHT get me!),
(c) and the Pisser; who for some reason never every figured out that the litterbox isn't just for turds... Dammit!
The three girls (fixed of course) just categorized have co-existed for almost 6 years together, hmmm... same amount of time as the now-departed ex; and the rules are pretty much set in cat-concrete.
Molly owns the house, gets first dibs on all the chow, and (at 15 no less) can still leap an entire couch in one bound... (well, she *had* hyperthyroid issues, but now she's better thanks to modern science). She had radioactive therapy; and damm... it worked. IT also slowed her down some; and she has CRF issues, but at least... no more flying overhead while I'm watching 24.
Pippi is younger; very very shy (allegedly a lab-rescue cat), and will only cuddle if you are prone, unmoving and have been that way for at least half an hour. Move... and she's gone. Did I mention that she's got all four of her climbing equipment? (So does Molly, btw). She wouldn't be caught dead wizzing outside her box, unless you didn't clean it for a couple days; then the laundry hamper will do just fine. Folded is better, but stinky mashed will do in a pinch.
Saido (aka THE PISSER) is a sweetheart, very cuddly and will pretty much come when you call; unless she's just squirted the TV set, the wall, the stairwell, the kitchen cabinet... you get the idea. Ex's Mom and stepdad had her for years before we got her, and they NEVER said MUM about any of that... gee...
But, once you've got her; what are you going to do? I'm not shelter'ing her; I doubt that anyone in their right mind would volunteer to have a furry watering truck zapping your interior space. She's just get dead... which is what one of my friends keeps suggesting. NO way.
SO...
She wears extra small size FOUR PAWS plastic garments (for female dogs in heat, but...) with a cut up depends pad stuffed inside. With a little tape, a little persuasion, I don't have to hunt her down even anymore.
She comes when I call; jumps on the toilet seat on her own, and allows me to change her at will. NO trauma, no stress, and usually no leakage.
Yay.
So a friend who knew I was going to be catless; because it was assumed that the ex would take all... (silly me -- and I was almost as depressed about her leaving as the cats)...
He shows up and tells me that his cat (which he had adopted out already once), was available --- because the person who took him was having a "life change", and wouldn't be able to have him anymore.
So, I get this underfed, scruffy but sweet tom, named "Taffy" of all things, and we start with a truce. He stays in the basement, away from the other cats...
I don't pet him; and he doesn't bite me. Apparently, he's got some trust issues. Well, I've dealt with toms before, so I figure that we'll sort this out.
---
6 Months later...
---
All four cats are "integrated" into the household; they sniff each other's front and rear, and see who's gotten to eat what; and is it better than what they're eating in THEIR dish... and I put Saido (pisser) into a bathroom late evening, so she's not depends 24x7, and the other three crash on my bed; although I have the same argument with Taffy every night... "It's MY damm pillow, cat". He likes to sleep on my throat. Can't pet him much... still bites! He weighs upwards of 20 lbs now...
So, I'm trying to get a room-mate, because the interest rate on my condo is going up... and I don't have the leverage (right now) to fix it.
...
Now, I just have to figure out who pisser passed the torch to.
Three are c/o of a ex-who bugged because we had THE argument.
She took two, left the rest. The two I liked the best went; and left me with
(a) the Manipulator (see --- I'm cute, feed me...),
(b) the shy one (somebody MIGHT get me!),
(c) and the Pisser; who for some reason never every figured out that the litterbox isn't just for turds... Dammit!
The three girls (fixed of course) just categorized have co-existed for almost 6 years together, hmmm... same amount of time as the now-departed ex; and the rules are pretty much set in cat-concrete.
Molly owns the house, gets first dibs on all the chow, and (at 15 no less) can still leap an entire couch in one bound... (well, she *had* hyperthyroid issues, but now she's better thanks to modern science). She had radioactive therapy; and damm... it worked. IT also slowed her down some; and she has CRF issues, but at least... no more flying overhead while I'm watching 24.
Pippi is younger; very very shy (allegedly a lab-rescue cat), and will only cuddle if you are prone, unmoving and have been that way for at least half an hour. Move... and she's gone. Did I mention that she's got all four of her climbing equipment? (So does Molly, btw). She wouldn't be caught dead wizzing outside her box, unless you didn't clean it for a couple days; then the laundry hamper will do just fine. Folded is better, but stinky mashed will do in a pinch.
Saido (aka THE PISSER) is a sweetheart, very cuddly and will pretty much come when you call; unless she's just squirted the TV set, the wall, the stairwell, the kitchen cabinet... you get the idea. Ex's Mom and stepdad had her for years before we got her, and they NEVER said MUM about any of that... gee...
But, once you've got her; what are you going to do? I'm not shelter'ing her; I doubt that anyone in their right mind would volunteer to have a furry watering truck zapping your interior space. She's just get dead... which is what one of my friends keeps suggesting. NO way.
SO...
She wears extra small size FOUR PAWS plastic garments (for female dogs in heat, but...) with a cut up depends pad stuffed inside. With a little tape, a little persuasion, I don't have to hunt her down even anymore.
She comes when I call; jumps on the toilet seat on her own, and allows me to change her at will. NO trauma, no stress, and usually no leakage.
Yay.
So a friend who knew I was going to be catless; because it was assumed that the ex would take all... (silly me -- and I was almost as depressed about her leaving as the cats)...
He shows up and tells me that his cat (which he had adopted out already once), was available --- because the person who took him was having a "life change", and wouldn't be able to have him anymore.
So, I get this underfed, scruffy but sweet tom, named "Taffy" of all things, and we start with a truce. He stays in the basement, away from the other cats...
I don't pet him; and he doesn't bite me. Apparently, he's got some trust issues. Well, I've dealt with toms before, so I figure that we'll sort this out.
---
6 Months later...
---
All four cats are "integrated" into the household; they sniff each other's front and rear, and see who's gotten to eat what; and is it better than what they're eating in THEIR dish... and I put Saido (pisser) into a bathroom late evening, so she's not depends 24x7, and the other three crash on my bed; although I have the same argument with Taffy every night... "It's MY damm pillow, cat". He likes to sleep on my throat. Can't pet him much... still bites! He weighs upwards of 20 lbs now...
So, I'm trying to get a room-mate, because the interest rate on my condo is going up... and I don't have the leverage (right now) to fix it.
...
Now, I just have to figure out who pisser passed the torch to.
2007 Apr 27 - So, you want to ... (streamof)
Minded of the song by sparks under the table with her. Ever seeking never finding always putting image out for what they want to see; the responses pathetic (meaning the bait also must) and yet one hopes for the random chance that the not yet dead cat provided. Schrodingers by the way, in case you're too dim to see. (spelled horribly, but wtf). Asking not receiving, talking not listining. wishing I had a thread reader and a ignore filter WHat wonders lurk beneath these waters; only the shadow knows.
Single mom seeks for love and has none; specifics only filter dissuade response. What if I were the one? Divorced and screwed beyond all redemption. What would say you then? Ask I, not what can I do for you... but what on your knees will you do for me? PaYBack is a bitch, on wheels and in your face. A modern man, a modern man; George is my hero and our salvation. Tom Lear had a year that went, and now the american pie is cum-apple, and being coverd by a new band. letting sleeping dogs lie like second hand lions we are; were; and shall be. Figuring justice in advertising, don't you know all pictures lie? Mine date from 10 years ago to now, do I that look like now? Not hardly, there's grey thar; and muscles sliding toward belly. In the belly of the beast, what dark desires surface? If "daddy" can troll for a 20-something, and BDSM abounds, with ring-lickers on paytv and in the clubs; what else missed we who came before? Know it not, we search blindly, convinced something better comes. (not us definitely)... Europe was better, Amerika apathy sucks.
I breath. You read. We connect. For a brief instance, then you move on... and wash your hands. Such lies are told, and counted. Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin Weep for the disconnected, the lost, the un-comforted. For he/she/it (yes you friggin' trannies, you too) are lost midst the wilderness, and not found. Racist scum, and belligerent immigrant. Neither grateful nor intelligent be.
Tinker tailor soldier spy. (well, competance not required, just ask the Elephant). Burning bush, but supporting soldiers. Horny, disaffected and old. what a drag it is... getting ...
Welcome to the machine.
to drink... perchance to dream.
Single mom seeks for love and has none; specifics only filter dissuade response. What if I were the one? Divorced and screwed beyond all redemption. What would say you then? Ask I, not what can I do for you... but what on your knees will you do for me? PaYBack is a bitch, on wheels and in your face. A modern man, a modern man; George is my hero and our salvation. Tom Lear had a year that went, and now the american pie is cum-apple, and being coverd by a new band. letting sleeping dogs lie like second hand lions we are; were; and shall be. Figuring justice in advertising, don't you know all pictures lie? Mine date from 10 years ago to now, do I that look like now? Not hardly, there's grey thar; and muscles sliding toward belly. In the belly of the beast, what dark desires surface? If "daddy" can troll for a 20-something, and BDSM abounds, with ring-lickers on paytv and in the clubs; what else missed we who came before? Know it not, we search blindly, convinced something better comes. (not us definitely)... Europe was better, Amerika apathy sucks.
I breath. You read. We connect. For a brief instance, then you move on... and wash your hands. Such lies are told, and counted. Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin Weep for the disconnected, the lost, the un-comforted. For he/she/it (yes you friggin' trannies, you too) are lost midst the wilderness, and not found. Racist scum, and belligerent immigrant. Neither grateful nor intelligent be.
Tinker tailor soldier spy. (well, competance not required, just ask the Elephant). Burning bush, but supporting soldiers. Horny, disaffected and old. what a drag it is... getting ...
Welcome to the machine.
to drink... perchance to dream.
2007 Apr 05 - Trolling? Guy seeks Girl; Guy Looses Girl; Ah... just a dream
--- --- . ---; --- --- . ---;
Laugh, love, rejoice. Otherwise, strap a c4 vest on... you're dead.
"This is one monkey that will keep on climbing; as long as the tree holds out". RAHeinlein.
Single(divorced) guy seeks female counterpart; but superfical looks must apply.
(ok, tried the heart-to-heart... lets see if responses change based on being just as tacky as the next guy...)
Middlin' height (5'9"), hungarian, 175 or so lbs, clean shaven (this week); and possessing a off-beat sense of humor. Got it from my Dad, he was done using it.
What I'd really like; is a 30-45 something, in shape who wants [kids -- wishlist! and] a normal life; a little adventure, and love. I'd be happy with a 45 Y.O. if (a) kids werent' in the equation... (mebbe) and (b) she didn't look older than her years. Unfortunately, ladies... most do. Damm'ed if I know why.
I'm not interested in a professional relationship; nor baby-sitting; nor diaper training... and I think the whole anal-oral thing vastly overrated. But, there's a 45 guy out there who wants to "be your daddy". Not me, I just wanted to have someone to grow with... and maybe (?) create progeny. Perhaps not... but you'can't win if you don't ask.
OK - enough silliness. Back to the regularly scheduled channel.
And yes... I do look younger (but then again, when we look at ourself in a mirror; who(m) do we really see?)
-the tarnished night. (I think I need special K?)
Laugh, love, rejoice. Otherwise, strap a c4 vest on... you're dead.
"This is one monkey that will keep on climbing; as long as the tree holds out". RAHeinlein.
Single(divorced) guy seeks female counterpart; but superfical looks must apply.
(ok, tried the heart-to-heart... lets see if responses change based on being just as tacky as the next guy...)
Middlin' height (5'9"), hungarian, 175 or so lbs, clean shaven (this week); and possessing a off-beat sense of humor. Got it from my Dad, he was done using it.
What I'd really like; is a 30-45 something, in shape who wants [kids -- wishlist! and] a normal life; a little adventure, and love. I'd be happy with a 45 Y.O. if (a) kids werent' in the equation... (mebbe) and (b) she didn't look older than her years. Unfortunately, ladies... most do. Damm'ed if I know why.
I'm not interested in a professional relationship; nor baby-sitting; nor diaper training... and I think the whole anal-oral thing vastly overrated. But, there's a 45 guy out there who wants to "be your daddy". Not me, I just wanted to have someone to grow with... and maybe (?) create progeny. Perhaps not... but you'can't win if you don't ask.
OK - enough silliness. Back to the regularly scheduled channel.
And yes... I do look younger (but then again, when we look at ourself in a mirror; who(m) do we really see?)
-the tarnished night. (I think I need special K?)
2007 Apr 01 - Proof positive that you are never at your best at 3 am.
You never are at your best at 3 am...
I was awakened by a drunk with 3 of his friends in the jacuzzi. You have to understand that my unit's bedroom window faces the pool, which is usually a bonus. HOWEVER... These folk were all drinking, talking loud/yelling at each other... which wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that they were doing it at 2... 3 am.
So, after about 1/2 hour of listening to this and realizing that no-way am I going to get back to sleep; I get dressed, go down and have a chat with the four... only one of whom lives in the complex.
The gals are topless/bottomless? and sitting on top of the guys (didn't even register); --- which I think means that they are having more fun than I am...
So I point out that public sex play and loud conversation were not appreciated by the community at this hour, and that they had awakened me... (I mean if you're going to do it... at least keep the yapping down)!
The two guys are quiet, the gals are belligerent and refusing to leave the premises (3 am remember!), and insulting. They're guests -- but acting like really really drunk. [update - I've since gotten to know one of them slightly in better circumstances, and she DOES have her good moments!] When I call LAPD, the more vocal female attached to the guy who lives here... stated that she'd file a sex complaint that I was harassing them... obviously not impressed by the courtesy of not asking the police to handle this in the first place. And (since I'm not calling 911 but local dispatch) I get queued into " 1 877 Ask-Lapd" Music-on-hold; and then the call gets dropped by my cellphone.
It isn't normally my intent to provoke my neighbors, but I think it's unacceptable that I should have to get out of bed because someone is being inconsiderate. It's not fun to get out of bed, get dressed, and go confront some unknown folk... that they are being rude. (Remember when you were a kid, and the teacher said "did you bring enough for everyone?)... the point being obvious? Takes me 2 hours to get unpissed enough to go back to sleep.
o o o
So, next day (some hours later); I have a chat with the resident homeowner; who's now sober... or nearly... and find out that he doesn't even know the other folk -- friends of his girlfriend? I suggest that next time they want to party, just to take everybody to the local strip bar... And... he tells me she's a pole dancer at the local candy Cat. I can only hope he had a *good* time...
There just ain't the words...
I was awakened by a drunk with 3 of his friends in the jacuzzi. You have to understand that my unit's bedroom window faces the pool, which is usually a bonus. HOWEVER... These folk were all drinking, talking loud/yelling at each other... which wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that they were doing it at 2... 3 am.
So, after about 1/2 hour of listening to this and realizing that no-way am I going to get back to sleep; I get dressed, go down and have a chat with the four... only one of whom lives in the complex.
The gals are topless/bottomless? and sitting on top of the guys (didn't even register); --- which I think means that they are having more fun than I am...
So I point out that public sex play and loud conversation were not appreciated by the community at this hour, and that they had awakened me... (I mean if you're going to do it... at least keep the yapping down)!
The two guys are quiet, the gals are belligerent and refusing to leave the premises (3 am remember!), and insulting. They're guests -- but acting like really really drunk. [update - I've since gotten to know one of them slightly in better circumstances, and she DOES have her good moments!] When I call LAPD, the more vocal female attached to the guy who lives here... stated that she'd file a sex complaint that I was harassing them... obviously not impressed by the courtesy of not asking the police to handle this in the first place. And (since I'm not calling 911 but local dispatch) I get queued into " 1 877 Ask-Lapd" Music-on-hold; and then the call gets dropped by my cellphone.
It isn't normally my intent to provoke my neighbors, but I think it's unacceptable that I should have to get out of bed because someone is being inconsiderate. It's not fun to get out of bed, get dressed, and go confront some unknown folk... that they are being rude. (Remember when you were a kid, and the teacher said "did you bring enough for everyone?)... the point being obvious? Takes me 2 hours to get unpissed enough to go back to sleep.
o o o
So, next day (some hours later); I have a chat with the resident homeowner; who's now sober... or nearly... and find out that he doesn't even know the other folk -- friends of his girlfriend? I suggest that next time they want to party, just to take everybody to the local strip bar... And... he tells me she's a pole dancer at the local candy Cat. I can only hope he had a *good* time...
There just ain't the words...
2007 Feb 19 - Presidents day... why I still NEED a sense of humor...
Damm outlook won't save my font prefs.
Typical day...
Wake up about 4 am (first time), clean the area next to the commode where the cats dumped litter (it's corn-meal based, which is much better than the clay...), but still! Raining like hell. Loud.
ok, back to bed. Really. 6 am rolls around, same deal; only this time Taffy (nearly 20 lbs of neutered white male feline) missed the box. (he usually faces in, but is longer than the box is, so when the box gets pushed against the wall, he miscalculates.
Up at 7. checking doctor's server, did backup happen? is reception3 computer ok after adding memory...? Check with the receptionist, first person in after bookkeeper; who is too shy to talk - she's in at 4 am I think... All is well... coffee in hand back up to wash up, shave and get dressed.
8 30 am-ish, get call from dataentry/bookkeeper ... who was up all night (again?) and will not be coming in until later. (still working on getting books for taxes; long story)...
so, off to this month's daily consulting gig, Chocolate bundt cake in hand, laptop and about three notebooks. Raining still; walk the "1/2 mile" from my car to the building, because parking gets full about 7 am. (production shift gets all the good close-up spaces). Nobody in OLS area; ok... it's a holiday ?
Drop off cake, get mug of syrup/coffee (blech) and read email, look at the bug I have to puzzle out. AHA - lunch. Ex comes into cube in tears; she broke her "bridge" and is self-concious about " appearance if she opens her mouth, plus the risk of swallowing her dentalwork. Amazing amount of tears; life's hitting her in the face a lot this week. Call the dentist .... set up a appointment; off for a quick sandwhich (what she was eating when the damm thing broke... again. did this last year, was temporary fix). I can feel for her; but my wallet can't...
3 pm, not going to make any more progress without the data from the customer; can't quite "see" the bug, but know where abouts it has to be... off to home. Call bookkeeper; she's on her way over.
next 4 hours are trying to get some third-party software dump the transactions from Quickbooks so that we can go back to a previous backup, re-"enter" the items, and get a balance that we believe... since this dataset is apparently hosed. Chat some, show her how to run the nice Excel macros (POS) that this package puports to be worth $70. Instructions somewhat fuzzy to a programmer non-accountant.
Somewhere in there answer email, query yet another possible consult site about some work... and then put that to bed for the evening.
8 pm - off to quick dinner at another friend's house, try to get his network computers to talk to each other after move... overdose on red pepper on salad (dumb), and have flaming indian food to boot. (I think it was the pepper that did it).
850 pm, bail and scramble home... feed cats and sit down for 24, giving up for the evening.
1030pm, take shower, hear scratchy "blinds" sounds while drying... step out in the bedroom (nekkid) to see the "dark" OPEN window (sans horiz blinds), because Taffy has been clawing them so he could see out (remember dark, right?) and neighbor's bedroom/study window is across the way... ) and the whole damm thing has been rotated "open".
Gee, thanks... got to wag the neighbors.
Tomorrow I get to do it all again.
Typical day...
Wake up about 4 am (first time), clean the area next to the commode where the cats dumped litter (it's corn-meal based, which is much better than the clay...), but still! Raining like hell. Loud.
ok, back to bed. Really. 6 am rolls around, same deal; only this time Taffy (nearly 20 lbs of neutered white male feline) missed the box. (he usually faces in, but is longer than the box is, so when the box gets pushed against the wall, he miscalculates.
Up at 7. checking doctor's server, did backup happen? is reception3 computer ok after adding memory...? Check with the receptionist, first person in after bookkeeper; who is too shy to talk - she's in at 4 am I think... All is well... coffee in hand back up to wash up, shave and get dressed.
8 30 am-ish, get call from dataentry/bookkeeper ... who was up all night (again?) and will not be coming in until later. (still working on getting books for taxes; long story)...
so, off to this month's daily consulting gig, Chocolate bundt cake in hand, laptop and about three notebooks. Raining still; walk the "1/2 mile" from my car to the building, because parking gets full about 7 am. (production shift gets all the good close-up spaces). Nobody in OLS area; ok... it's a holiday ?
Drop off cake, get mug of syrup/coffee (blech) and read email, look at the bug I have to puzzle out. AHA - lunch. Ex comes into cube in tears; she broke her "bridge" and is self-concious about " appearance if she opens her mouth, plus the risk of swallowing her dentalwork. Amazing amount of tears; life's hitting her in the face a lot this week. Call the dentist .... set up a appointment; off for a quick sandwhich (what she was eating when the damm thing broke... again. did this last year, was temporary fix). I can feel for her; but my wallet can't...
3 pm, not going to make any more progress without the data from the customer; can't quite "see" the bug, but know where abouts it has to be... off to home. Call bookkeeper; she's on her way over.
next 4 hours are trying to get some third-party software dump the transactions from Quickbooks so that we can go back to a previous backup, re-"enter" the items, and get a balance that we believe... since this dataset is apparently hosed. Chat some, show her how to run the nice Excel macros (POS) that this package puports to be worth $70. Instructions somewhat fuzzy to a programmer non-accountant.
Somewhere in there answer email, query yet another possible consult site about some work... and then put that to bed for the evening.
8 pm - off to quick dinner at another friend's house, try to get his network computers to talk to each other after move... overdose on red pepper on salad (dumb), and have flaming indian food to boot. (I think it was the pepper that did it).
850 pm, bail and scramble home... feed cats and sit down for 24, giving up for the evening.
1030pm, take shower, hear scratchy "blinds" sounds while drying... step out in the bedroom (nekkid) to see the "dark" OPEN window (sans horiz blinds), because Taffy has been clawing them so he could see out (remember dark, right?) and neighbor's bedroom/study window is across the way... ) and the whole damm thing has been rotated "open".
Gee, thanks... got to wag the neighbors.
Tomorrow I get to do it all again.
2007 Feb 17 - You know you are in trouble when...
1. your ex-girlfriend calls you up to make bail for her son.
2. The most expensive thing in your life (at the moment) is you cat(s)' (multiple) veterenary bills; and they're over $4K.
3. Your part-time bookkeeper is a hottie, and you are giving her carefully thought out altruistic relationship advice.
4. The last time you drank more than a single beer - you regretted it for the entire night, and so did the cats who inhabit the domicile with you. And scotch... is out of the question (unless you want to spend the rest of the night with major bowel disorder)...
5. The first thing you do when you get up in the morning... is remove the cat from your face.
6. Even your consulting gigs disrespect you.
7. You invite a co-worker out to lunch... and they (perceptably) spend time thinking... free food... lunch with... hmmm...
8. You are working on a project in your cubicle in the afternoon as a consultant, getting paid more money than god... (figuratively speaking), and you notice that you have nodded off again... and wonder if anyone noticed.
9. you spend inordinate amounts of time on CraigsList looking for single-women-looking-for-men, and you realise that you are 50 years old... and NOTHING in that category appeals. (and the ones who advert for an older guy... are either professionals, very high maintenance, or a scam of one sort or another).
10. You have time on a Friday night to write this list. (traditional)
2. The most expensive thing in your life (at the moment) is you cat(s)' (multiple) veterenary bills; and they're over $4K.
3. Your part-time bookkeeper is a hottie, and you are giving her carefully thought out altruistic relationship advice.
4. The last time you drank more than a single beer - you regretted it for the entire night, and so did the cats who inhabit the domicile with you. And scotch... is out of the question (unless you want to spend the rest of the night with major bowel disorder)...
5. The first thing you do when you get up in the morning... is remove the cat from your face.
6. Even your consulting gigs disrespect you.
7. You invite a co-worker out to lunch... and they (perceptably) spend time thinking... free food... lunch with... hmmm...
8. You are working on a project in your cubicle in the afternoon as a consultant, getting paid more money than god... (figuratively speaking), and you notice that you have nodded off again... and wonder if anyone noticed.
9. you spend inordinate amounts of time on CraigsList looking for single-women-looking-for-men, and you realise that you are 50 years old... and NOTHING in that category appeals. (and the ones who advert for an older guy... are either professionals, very high maintenance, or a scam of one sort or another).
10. You have time on a Friday night to write this list. (traditional)
00 00 00 The year zero
ok, I've moved my musing(s) from archive to view; hopefully this will maintain chron in spite of myself. If you care, that is... The intent is to write more, but keep the past for reference.
I exist. I shout.
No-one listens.
or do they...
I exist. I shout.
No-one listens.
or do they...
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