Buzzkill of the Day

That sucks, Amy. You can get ANYTHING here. Well, except a couple Asian movies I want to see and can't find.

Well, I know you're being sarcastic but yeah, how? And when? Big Bang series 6 has disappeared from TV here, been replaced by How I Met Your Mother. I think Community season 2 is currently being shown on some channel called Sony TV and series 4 is what's on in America.

I really couldn't give a fuck for any bitching about illegal download sites from anyone right now. My TV package costs £50 a month and I can't watch shows that I should be able to watch with how much I pay. It's bullshit.

No, it really pisses me off you would be like that straight away because I was expecting it but from someone else, I pay LOADS in to these things: TV, cinemas, music, DVDs, all of it. I only want to watch what I should be able to watch. It's ridiculous.

I'm not that pissed off but I'm definitely trying to get a point across badly. I would never pirate things if I didn't feel so cheated on some matters. I do pay an awful lot for all this stuff, I shouldn't have to wait long, indefinite amounts of time for certain shows that will get spoiled for me by the internet.

Everything except a few shows I watch on TV because they're only a week behind the US. I think it's time they pulled their fingers out of their arses and caught up with the internet. Parks and Recreation has only just STARTED on TV here, about a week ago!

We get Game of Thrones on Mondays, for instance, only a day after the US airing. That's pretty cool, but I still watch it on my computer.

I prefer watching things on TV because we have a 60" HD TV and so it's way better than watching on the computer.

I know I was snapping at you but I'm not mad at you, I'm just mad at how unfair it is, really. How difficult it is to watch some TV shows. Sorry!

Today was the first day of my godfather's estate sale. It was a pretty rough day. It was really hard selling all of his possessions to other people. I almost cried a few times, but I didn't.

I miss him so much...

Aw, Melody. That must have been so hard for you. Do you have to be involved, or do you want to be?

Sorry Melody. Be strong!
I bet he had some really neat items. He sounds like he had tons of personality.

I think I'm dying or something.

I woke up with the worst pain ever in my chest an throat. Moving hurts. Swallowing hurts. Breathing hurts.

Bought a lottery ticket but didn't win. Genuinely gutted.

Had to be, it's what I do for a living.

Feel better pep!
I hope it's soon.

Stop it.

MIGRAINE!#&^%*#%!@#$!@t%^&%^&*^

The one morning this week I had to get my car washed. And it's raining. Oh well.

Hungover despite only drinking about 3/4 of a bottle of wine. Still, it was a good night with no need for salad bowls, at least.

I did warn you.

What do you mean only 3/4 of a bottle? I would get drunk on that, too. Probably even a bit less.

^this.

I only had a pack of Doritos for dinner (at about 1am) which probably don't help.

Also the fact that I'm midget-sized means I have less blood, ergo get drunk more easily. Two cocktails is fine, three means I already feel dizzy.

I'm tiny but my metabolism has been a huge asset when it comes to drinking. It's strange for me when I get drunk off of two beers/drinks. But it is the norm now since I don't drink as much anymore.

I used to be tiny and could drink a bottle of wine and be ok.

I miss booze.

Last time I remember getting outright drunk off of two beers was the day a friend passed away. Puked out my window and everything.

I am guessing it was almost all psychological.

I'm not tiny though.

I'm 5'7" and quite plump anymore.

Me and hubby had a nice date today. Went to see Oz and crunched a quick mini wine tasting of white, rose and reds. btw South Africa has some bombass wine. Yum!
Later,
I got mad, because my husband ate Izzy's portion of dinner.
So, I unplugged the tv, the last 47 seconds of the basket ball game, while he was sweating over the chart of his fantasy line up.
He plugged the tv up just in time to see the last 20 seconds.
I went and reheated a slice of pizza for Izzy.
Pretty sure he went to bed upset. Buzzz...

Upside, hubby took me out to do whatever I wanted today.
Downside, it went a little flat at* the end of night.
At least, we are still having some real fun times, in between the fights.
Now, I can't go to bed yet, because I made the mistake of eating chili bowl on our sexy date. heh.
Going to bed anyhow...
buzzz

I'm glad for you Sema. Not the chili part though

I feel like I'm being unappreciated again. Everyone was like, "Start a Tumblr! Oh my God Henry needs a Tumblr!" but even when I post something no one reblogs or "likes" it or anything.

I hate everybody I know. Sulk.

What's your tumblr address?

How predictable! Of course the minute I stop taking birth control pills my pony's all raging and stuff.

My internet wasn't working for like 10 minutes. It hurt. It still hurts, even though it's back.

My dad is emotionally troubled, for what might be the first time ever. He has never had friends since he married, and wouldn't keep friends, being that he's antisocial, but he works at various job sites and talks a lot with different carpenters, brick layers, electricians, etc... Well, not true. Everyone on job sites hates electricians. I've never been sure why. Personally, I can't stand painters, and find roofers to be an odd sort.

One of the people he sometimes talks to was just arrested for masturbating in front of a public school. My dad is disturbed to no end by this. He keeps saying, "I talked to that guy. I joked with him! How could he do that? He seemed like a normal guy."

To my dad, this whole thing is a slanderous insult on his name. It's insulting, personally, to him, that somebody would tell jokes in his presence while entertaining perverse fantasies outside of his presence; insulting because said person would be provoking positive interaction while secretly harvesting opposite thoughts, and so is then a liar, in his book.

The problem I foresee is that he'll react to this. Reacting to random things that you knew could happen, when they happen randomly, is almost always a mistake. Where are the people who can accept the machinations of a disturbed nature, without making patchwork of the law by changing it every time a tragedy occurs?

He can't think like a warrior or a writer, though. He can't accept losses. He's a worker who acts and lives like a worker. A nation of him would be a nation that goes from Democracy to Communism to Tyrrany, and back to Democracy, always fixing the same problems and going in circles as the evils of humanity catch up with them. Where I see a lost social battle, he sees a problem. Where I see problems, I see constructs that can be recreated and imposed on my enemies/stories; where he sees problems, he sees solutions, and that's where the worker becomes dangerous. If there's one thing no one ever needs, it's a solution. If someone's problem is so boring that they start looking for a solution, just to rid themselves of it, what they need to do is invest in a more interesting problem.

Exactly what he's going to do is never have a friend, ever again. That will solve the problem and nothing else will, and that's how he thinks: I never wanted friends anyway, it was fun chatting with those guys now and then, but one was a potential child molester, and I can never take that risk again(that horrible risk of being in good company with bad people).

The thing that really sucks about this is that he won't have any friends. Of the married couples my parents used to be friends with, all but one has divorced, and that couple lost their son in a boating accident, which turned the parents, having lost an only child they had to try for years to make, into ghosts; it isn't death they allow to mock them, but life, because they've let the humor of it all escape them.

And so, with all that having gone on, and with him having lived out west and in several cities, and grown up all over, he's going to forfeit his last chance at friendship because some guy, one of a group of a dozen or so, who he had only talked to a few times, was caught jerking off in front of a school.

I'm sure one argument could convince him otherwise, but I can't think what it is. There has to be zounds, which means I'm thinking in the wrong direction. I can imagine an old lady hooing and waving her hand and dropping some piece of wisdom that would reconcile the disturbance in his social conscience, or maybe a priest with some argument he uses when a distraught couple mourns their amateur boatsman of a son--What do priests say, anyway, when people ask Why does God let this happen?

Ahh! But none of that would work. You can't lie to an old bastard like him when you're a melancholy bastard like me, and neither of us have ever met a priest, and the last time I pretended to be an old lady I lost my hotel. All I can say is the guy was a diddler, man, fuck his soul off, at least you gave him the grace of good company that could have kept him away from desires of the opposite nature, but it wasn't enough. I could, chess-wise, try to trap him into thinking he could have prevented this by being a better friend, and so give him the precious solution that is catalyst to his thought process, enabling him to seek friendship as a solution to the very disturbance he's experienced (which he always knew could happen, shya). Suretainly, I can connive something out of the situation, even if I have to face him on the wickedly uncomfortable working man ground, mono e garra.

But this isn't even a conversation yet. He's driving home, I haven't actually talked to him in a week, and this happened two days ago. I have to bring all of this up along with my strategy, and if he has a rebuke I could lose hours having to sit there and listen, which I can't do without getting distracted by the cats, which annoys the shit out of him, which annoys the shit out of me because I'm not allowed to smoke over there because he's an old bastard, so there's nothing but cats to entertain one's self, and it's nearly impossible to get them to fight.

And I've been up for twenty hours or something, on four hours sleep. Sober for two months by way of spending all of my money on weed and not paying my bills, writing, kicked off of the dole, more broke than a shitstorm, Les Trois Mousquetaires, went out today and got a job at a mother fucking factory, man. Fucking machines. Fucking noise. Fucking key passes. Fucking cafeteria. Fucking other people who work there that I just naturally assume are all sick fucking freaks.

It hasn't really been my day, and I think I might have been saying that for months, and now I have to work for approximately seven months. My tooth that I told them to pull, that they filled, that the filling fell out, that I told another dentist to pull out, that she filled in, has gotten infected, and I look like a hamster hiding kibbles and with every bit of pain all I can think of is what this will come down to. They pulled teeth out in the Deadwood days. Whiskey, call someone a cocksucker, hit it with a horseshoe. Why the fuck won't dentists pull teeth out? Does it affect their stats or something, do dentists meet at the dentist conventions and brag about never losing a patient's tooth, and make fun of dentists who had to pull teeth, while everyone runs around with any of a dozen compounds solidified in their mouth, flying out in magnet stores and killing people?

And I got a big dumb roommate. I haven't engaged him in conversation, but I ate some of his food, and he bought a table. He goes, "I bought a table, because there wasn't one."

That's like saying, "I killed you, because there was no not you."

I had a table. Some are wood, marble, iron; they come in all shapes and sizes. From an infinitude of tables, I selected mine: it was made of nothing. It was the only table you could never bump into; it was the only table that allowed for more space in the kitchen. If you didn't like where it was, moving it was easy, and when you threw the newspaper on top of it, it would fall to the floor with the others, landing in something of a neat stack on account of your ninja skills, and while you made eggs (with no TV on anywhere) you could contemplate how people would keep writing down crap and walking it all the way to your door, only for the material to be promptly recycled, unread but for a headline that aroused no curiosity, unappreciated but for its scent of paper and fresh ink, while the vulgar colours of the newspaper's face made it unappealing to regard in a newspapery way.

Can't a man not have a table? It isn't enough that a roommate violates the sanctity of the Batcave, but I can't even have not a table? And he's got food everywhere. The guy bought a meat order, he's insane, it'll go bad no matter how fast I eat it on him, and the fridge looks so cluttered with more than eggs in it, and he added contents without manipulating the fridge controls to accommodate, and he bought a microwave where I had not a microwave. I would sit my hats there, but no! Now they're on the microwave, getting radiation poisoning. If they were alive like the Minish Cap, we'll never know.

This idea of people putting things anywhere where nothing was is destroying everything. Everywhere I used to walk, grass and gravel and dirt paths have now been paved, and the people they shipped in with the subdivisions (I think they build them with the houses, on the hilltop) now take small, useless dogs there and watch them shit while imagining themselves in a music video, but imagining that, in the music video, the dog isn't shitting, unless it's some sort of hip Green Day like band in which case the dog shitting would make their music video even cooler, but they would imagine that the plastic bag wasn't there--wtf! Get out of my narration, you idealist fiend! Go drink a vitamin water and leave any lost soul who would read this far alone.

I will retire to a wordpad, and close my eyes to type some madness, saving that precious eye-mana to finish the last of The Three Musketeers. At midnight, I sleep, and I wake a turtle, or a pumpkin, or however it goes. I have to be a norm, once again, and sell my labor for a wage, so as to survive the economy, either because ten years wasn't long enough for me to succeed yet or because that's just the way she goes, Trailer Park Boys fans, the way she fuckin' goes, a crock of shit with barb wired handles and all that.

http://avlloyd.tumblr.com

I tried to do a link in that first post but apparently it didn't show up. Oops!

In my vicarious experiences, with my husband being a carpenter, it is the plumbers which are loathed more than all.

Highlighted part describes the very difference in how my husband and I think and hence where most of our troubles arise.

Saying both those things likely pointless to my next point, but I thought I would say them anyhow.

You need to tell you dad that he must contact this man that has disturbed him so much, whether that be by phone or letter, or in person, though I would recommend in person far less.

When he contacts this man he needs to tell in very simple but unequivocal language that he finds this mans behavior despicable and unacceptable on the deepest level and hence, he is revoking himself from the mans life permanently and completely. This man hence forth does not have even permission to think he was once a part of his life in any capacity. The End.

Next, your dad must make it clear to all other people who he associates with and who also associated with this pervert, when the pervert is inevitably brought up, that he acted justly as a Man and told this pervert that he is a worthless human being and revoked himself with actual action from the persons life.

If this solution works as I think it will it will lift the weight of guilt off of your fathers chest of having ever communicated with such a person as well as serve the purpose of him speaking up for himself and his values and manhood in the presence of those who remain in his life- he will have made it clear to all that he utterly condemns the activity of the person in question, to the point of condemning that person, as well as implying, with out actually saying, that he will condemn any similar activity or people he encounters just as swiftly and wholly.

In other words- he needs to outright tell the guy that he has dumped him as a friend. And then tell everyone else that he dumped the guy as a friend.

this is just my humble opinion based on previous experience with similar bullshit and similar sounding personalities of people.

More snow. More pony anarchy.

Pretty much.

They took my white room! My beautiful empty white room with nothing but white walls and ceiling and a single window for white winter light to shine through! They took it and put chairs and shelves and boxes in it! Reaped it of it's space! Violated every corner with a chair, none of which are ever used since I'm the only one who ever goes in there and I don't need to sit in all corners of the room at once - a luxury I once enjoyed but can't anymore now that each corner is blocked by a chair. Between the chairs, boxes and shelves of hoarded junk now block the white walls which I can no longer walk back and forth between. Exercising is useless now that all these useless objects produce dust out of their uselessness. Dust that inhabits more space. The white room is now blue and red and black and brown and green. A different color chair in each corner. The white room is now a splash of different blaughs over something that looked much better as a blank white sheet, as well as a colossal waste of paint that could have been used to paint other empty rooms. Even the boxes housing that hoarded shit are hoarded items themselves. I remember these boxes from moving between houses many years ago. These same boxes with the same markings and labels. I think the trash inside them was trash back then too, yet we moved it instead of discarding it which still would've been just moving it. They've turned my white room into a landfill. A waste site.

Three hours later my head hurts even more. I tried to sleep it off, but no, it feels like my brain is seeping through my skin. Stupid stupid sunlight and snow. I see some of it has melted so it's easier for my eyes now, plus the sky is covered now, not the clear fucker it was earlier.

White rooms are so zen.
Like the sound of one hand clapping.

I would die in a white room. I have photophobia so all bright light hurts my eyes. Not only do I squint like mad and can't see shit, but I get this kind of headache that lasts a million years. Four hours and counting, after taking a painkiller an hour ago. Fucking day. Fucking snow.

http://blogs.houstonpress.com/artattack/2013/03/ryan_gosling_temporarily...

I know Stephen. I know.

At first I was angry but then I went through various other stages and now I accept it. I think he's selfish as fuck but there we are.

I really thought he loved us.

For some reason it makes me like him even more.

Thank you, neighbours, for drilling holes in your walls today of all days.