Saturday, September 30, 2006

stupid and immature things i have done recently

1. Throwing rocks at cats.

Not to hit them, but to make them freak out. The cat being targeted should ideally be fast asleep in the grass. Points given if the cat actually attackes the rock.
Bonus Gold Star points if the cat attacks itself.

2. Fooing air on the dog.

Why does this make dogs nuts? My tater will roll in somersaults, paddling his paws and making euurooop noises, burying his head and woofing. Then he gets pissed off if you stop!

3. Run the lid of the blender through the blades.

The results would have been more spectacular if it had been the Cuisinart, but I work with what I have. Besides, Cuisinart saw me coming and engineered that failsafe button. Crap.

4. Painted half of the bedroom schoolbus yellow.

I'd like to say that I'd thought it wouldn't turn out that color, but I knew it would. It's very cheerful. Kind of 'methamphetemines and espresso' cheerful.

5. Let my grandson drive.

6. That was a lie.

7. Took apart the vaccuum cleaner and used the air compressor to clean out the hose.

The hose does not exit where you might think the hose would exit. If you happen to be standing quite close to the actual exit, and in point of fact peering all up inside it like a proctologist with a brand new dialator, it can exit right into ones' trachea. At pressure.

This was not fun. Nor did it taste good.

8. Teasing hornets with the garden hose is a bad idea, but it is fun. We don't have Nintendo, ok?

Right up until you realize squirting water into their nest means that water is now also shooting out into your living room through the old cable outlet. Like a firehose. For about 45 minutes. This is why you should never mix beer and insects. Or something.

9. Sprayed the toilet bowl down with bleach and then took a whiz in it.

I'm lucky I have any hair left on my...yeah.

What makes this dumb AND sad is that there is an entry on the Darwin Awards website about a woman doing the exact same thing who almost died from the subsequent fumes. Evolution is desparately trying to tell me something.

10. Fed the dogs tomatoes.
I love my doggies and they beg for tomato pieces, and I've had a lot of tomatoes to process lately so I gave in. It makes them so happy!

Half an hour later the fusillade began. Dogs don't digest tomatoes real well.
Every time one of them kicked, or barked, or trotted across the room it sounded like a rubber submachine gun firing Vaseline bullets. And they zip around and look every time, too, like 'Dang! My ass did that thing again!' Man, I about died! I had tears rolling down my face. Yessir, that there is quality entertainment!

Martha Stewart hint of the day:
"By adding unpeeled tomatoes to your dogs diet, you can also add a dash of unexpected color to your landscaping!"

Thursday, September 28, 2006

no nuts. make the nuts go away. bad nuts.

This morning I was brought straight up in bed by the sound of my next-door neibor, standing in her back yard, screaming in inarticulate rage.
At first I thought it was kids out on the sidewalk. Or maybe something over at the construction site. Nope, there it was again. AAAAGGHRAGGHH! RRRRAAAGH! AAAAAAAAAGH!RRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAGHRRR!


I peeked out my curtains just as she cut loose with another RRRRAAAGGH!
After a few more RRRRAAAAAGHS she began a screaming Jeremiad aimed at something or someone who had RUINED HER MORNING! And she hoped that THEY WERE HAPPY! WERE THEY? WERE THEY? RRRRRRRAAAAAGH!
Then there were a few more screams; just regular aaaaaa type ones.
"Good gravy marie; could she mean the Harley?" I wondered. The Yummy Biker had taken off for work shortly before this started.
"...the man doesn't rip throttle or sit there and gun it like a jackass anyway so I'd be surprised if just n" I HOPE YOU FRGN FMJRFY SYRFG NTLL! AAAAAAGH RAGH ECHVER FENCHIN GRRRRR!
Ok, then.
And so it continued, for about half an hour.
From the way it sounded you could tell she had started walking around the house, ranting at the top of her lungs. And you know, I felt good about that. Let the people in the apartments get a taste of what I go through for a change. Share the fuckin' love.
At 7:00 a.m.

Why is this difficult?
Take the screaming nut to the damn mental health clinic, please?
I mean, goddammit, people. Do something. You obviously have enough cash lying around to keep her packed up to the adenoids full of Oreos; at least go next door to those apartments and buy the poor thing some heroin. She seems upset.

Do you know how good a gated community looks right now?
The older I get the more I find myself fantasizing about living someplace where everybody has a nice yard and a nice house and there are NO ROAMING NUTS. 'Elitist' be damned. I am sick up to the tits with this. I really, really am.

So I went to the cop shop and spoke with the nice policeman. I did't make a complaint, I just asked him, as a person whose job it is to deal with extreme things, what I should do. Apparently there is nothing to do unless a move is made towards us or our property. I should probably not show up on their front step and ask them to ride herd on their nut.
Fine; fair enough. It's only noise. I want to get along here. One random screaming nut is better than three pissed-off, focused nuts, after all. I have to live next door to them.
But dammit, I am so beyond tired of this.
Please get the woman some goddamn help.
And a bra.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Release Badger: Escape! the Getaway Made is Secret

In the interests of dispelling ignorance I have prepared this modest offering. I hope you find it enlightening.

You may not have wanted to know that. You do now. Ha!
Humans, in their earlier history, weren't real particular about how far from camp they threw their garbage, took a dump, or dragged their less-honored dead. They did not have to be, because a variety of scavengers (including themselves when times were thin) took care of the final disposal problem for them. Canids were among this crowd.
We don't digest all the protein we take in, and dogs (like most scavengers) aren't real picky about where they get theirs. Anyone who owns a dog and an indoor cat has noted- or should have by now, ew- the attraction Sparky has for the cat pan. Same reason-cats digest even less protein than humans. Do. Ahem.
Nature is beautiful.
Over time dogs became habituated to our presence. Being the largest scavenger they got the biggest portion, and because of their proximity and their human-rich diet choices, they began to take on our smell. Being pack animals, scavengers and omnivores like us, they were able to form partnerships with us because some of the behavioral psychology is so similar.
The clincher? Dog is tasty. Plus it doesnt give you kourou* the way chowing down on dear departed Aunt Patricia does. Even if the last thing doggy ate WAS dear departed Aunt Patricia.
Not that I would know personally, but Lewis and Clark speak highly of it. Dog, I mean.

2. Small passenger helicopters are deathtraps.
Years ago we lived near a business that used to scrap the wrecks of small passenger helicopters. Theres good money in that, apparently. Any of the components that remain unbroken can be resold (which in many instances is SO INCREDIBLY ILLEGAL), and the wrecked parts can be stripped and sold for BUX on the scrap market.
That is because the main body of some of those things is made of aluminium honeycomb.
Here is a crappy diagram:
'I' represents sheet aluminium. 'X' represents a honeycomb filling the space between, theoretically stiffening it while keeping the overall weight down, made of aluminum so lightweight it resembles foil tissue. You can press your finger into it like buttercream frosting and write 'This stuff is shit' in cursive letters about four inches high. Well you can.
The sheet used to form the inner and outer wall of this stuff is the same thickness as the aluminium used in making a popcan, if not slightly thinner. My gradeschool-aged daughter could tear it easily. It's like tearing light card stock.
This 'aluminium sandwich' is used to form all the outer walls of the helicopter's body.
Now, in it's final, intact shape the helicopter body is (again, in theory) pretty strong, owing to it's being all ovals in cross section. We all did the 'stacking bricks on top of eggs' experiment in school, right? It's a strong shape. And it's reinforced inside with drilled i-beam struts, too...also a strong shape, and lightweight.
Until you punch it.
Now, not a man punch. We're talking a lady punch with a t-shirt wrapped around the fist. And we aren't talking about a section thats already been wrecked, either....we're talking about a new section still on the flatbed where we really didn't have any business snooping around punching things.
Crumples like a styrofoam cup.
Let me hasten to add that nothing, no conveyance yet invented, mangles a human body quite as completely,
or as inextricably,

as a small passenger helicopter made of aluminium honeycomb.
Avoid small passenger helicopters.

3. The big secret of the Masonic Lodge is that God's name is Yahweh.
I suppose this could come in pretty handy if you wanted to send God a Christmas card; you wouldnt' have to write 'Hoping you have a Great Christmas and a very happy New Year, God dude' which could be construed as impertinent, depending on Gods mood at the moment. Although you got to figure, God's omniscient, right? So God would know already that it's not like you were trying to be a smartass. Although God is God so if God wanted to fry your ass with a lightning bolt for that God could, and what are you gonna do about it, you know? I mean, God could.
If he wanted to. Which he might not, but he could.
It's deep.

*the human version of Mad Cow Disease.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

another rough one. skip it and have a nice week.

I used to be married to a person who is a staff member in a prominent nut cult. This person was responsible for putting me and my infant daughter into a series of battered women's shelters.

Pointing up his true nature, and existing in defiance of his complete denial, (which I expected) there are police reports to substantiate the events which lead to my leaving him. There are photographs of injuries, including a nice series of the FINGERPRINTS AROUND MY NECK. A set exists in the files of Harborview Medical Center and also at each one of the shelters I stayed at. (Not that I went back to his abusive shit after he tried to kill me, but because he stalked me to the first shelter, so they had to shuttle me around the city to keep me hidden. Yeah.) There are reports, photographs and signed affadavits on file with the police department, the Seattle Domestic Violence Project, and the state Welfare Department as well.

This guy is near to being an embodiment of the clinical standard for antisocial psychosis; one on the order of Ted Bundy, folks...handsome, well spoken, all the trappings, and absolutely without any sense of conscience or wrongdoing whatsoever. (And fortunately, not as bright or as brave as Ted Bundy, either, or I'd be in some big shit.)

Despite his assertions to the contrary, he is not only a staff member but an executive in this bullshit organization.
He shouldn't be. Their internal policy states that by all rights he should be barred from holding a staff position. But he does.
Know why?
Because he is an earner.

Never let anyone tell you any differently about S**********'s all about the money with them. The set of standards they profess is infinitely elastic where the possibility of profit is concerned, and if there is one thing my ex is good at, it's raking in the dough. The fact that he is owned body and soul by them matters not one whit to him because he is psychologically unable to comprehend that anyway. Me, I get a great deal of satisfaction out of knowing damn well that he is merrily embezzling a cut of whatever $$ pass his way, because thats what he's done in every single job he's ever held. Considering the organization, I ain't saying a word. Rock on. My blessings. You all deserve one another. They were idiot enough to let him loose in their computer programs.
Karma's a bitch. So am I.

I was involved at one time too, yes. I won't detail that involvement closely, because a member searching deeply into this issue with a memory of me could easily put the facts together and figure out my identity and whereabouts, and then Church harrassment would begin again. I know for a fact that people who had contact with me back then are still being harrassed all these years later. (Not seriously, but any is too much.) The reason why? I not only left a staff member, I won a lawsuit against a staff member.

Now let me detail exactly what harrassment means. It means phonecalls at all hours of the day and night. Hangups. Breathers. Spurious phone sales and surveys.
It means a constant barrage of crap mailings that amount to, at times, GARBAGE SACKS FULL of promotional propoganda, letters, etc. every month. I know this because I saw it done when I was there. I did it. I had it happen to me. And that's the level some people are still experiencing because of me.

Now thank God, this isn't happening, but it also means following members suspected of anti-curch activities, getting jobs in their organizations, tapping their phones, ABDUCTING THEIR CHILDREN, surveilling their homes, opening their mail...and anything else you can imagine. Oh yes.
I know this because I saw it done when I was there. I did it. At least the undercover secret mole working thing.
In my defense I did not know I was being used as a lil' spy at the time; I thought they had gotten me a nice outside job and only twigged when I was hauled into the E***** Office and asked to write a full report on the activities there. Which I did NOT, I might add.

This shit is their policy. It is their published and stated policy. I have read this policy. It amounts to, in the plainest of language, 'Open Season on our enemies'. As someone who has left the organization AND won a lawsuit against a staff member, I fit that definition. They do not care. They make the lower level flunkies do the dirty work, then sell them out to the law if they get busted and continue on their merry way. And guess who was one of their favorite flunkies? My ex.

Sound ridulous? It is. It is also true. Every damn word.

I have been to the anti-you-know-who sites. The one hosted by Finland (yay Finland!) is particularly good, and every damn word is accurate and true. The type of extreme measures they went to in order to recruit Cruise and others is detailed. They describe the types of bizzarre disciplinary practices which went on behind the scenes. Those accounts are true, and if you read nothing else, read them. I know they're true. I read reports issued when they occurred. I spoke with ( uniform-wearing members of the interior police force) who BRAGGED about having taken part.

Own nothing, you are nothing, to them. That's why I wasn't pursued with the same vigor that others have been. That, and I got the fuck out and left very few traces. I took precautions. I got legal help. For years I hid. I had my name on nothing. I had a fake address and identity. I bought a gun. I got a 'Permit to Carry Concealed' and I did, every time I stepped out of the house. For years. Would I have used it? WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT. If I know anything about myself, it's that I can and would kill other human being to protect my daughter, or any of my family. I did not particularly want to know that about myself, but there you have it.

Another reason I have left out a lot of details is because they are disgusting and because my daughter reads this sometime. There simply is shit I have decided will die with me. And after all, isn't this dramatic and retarded enough? Really? Pathetic, disgusting, evidence of poor judgement and even poorer self esteem on my part? Yes, it is.

I am writing about this because it still bothers me and I need to quantify it out of existance, to completely exterminate any power it still has to make me feel enslaved, ashamed and frightened. Too fucking bad if you don't like it, if it makes you cringe and think 'oh god, what a loser'. I am in complete agreement with you, as it so happens. I was a loser.
I am not anymore.
Nonetheless, these things occurred. They're part of the story of my life. So fuck you.
Not you, you. I mean the other yous.

And also because I refuse to be silenced, goddammit. I'm smart, and this shit still happened to me. Be ignorant, and it might happen to you too. You'd be surprised.
Anyway there it is.

with thanks to mj. i refuse to go through the rest of my life paranoid about meeting someone for lunch, goddammit!!!