Friday, January 6, 2012

Even the calmest ocean is a roiling chaos of currents and undertows

Ready for this?
Let's get this over with.

Yeah, that's 666 in her username. What, pick that name out when you turned 13?
Imagine an online game which is so close to reality, that you can feel and touch your opponent. What sport, activity or game would you want to play?

Some sort of melee-oriented game, naturally.
Who wouldn't pick the ultimate combat simulator?
Oh that's right. Girls.
HURRRR PETTING KITTENS IN VIRTUAL REALITY.

Imagine being tossed out of a plane 3 thousand feet in the air and allowing yourself to just free fall for a few seconds before you pull a cord that will jerk you to a stop for a split second before you begin once again falling towards the rocky earth below.

Except you can do that in real life and it's (relatively) safe. War zones, however, typically aren't.
If I'm playing a game I want to do shit that's either literally impossible for me to do in real life or is generally not advisable to do in real life.

You glance away from the ground you are plummeting towards and realize that you are about to drift into a cloud. For a few blissful moments all of your senses are cut away; you can not see anything further then an arms length away, the only sound you hear is the wind rushing past your ears and the silence of your breath when for a moment you forget to breath.

Ok.
Got it.
Breathe, incidentally.
Total isolation shifts in further when you realize that there are no recognizable scents drifting towards your nose and the only touch you feel is the wind on your face and the cords still clenched in your frozen fists. But before you can even appreciate the peace it all comes rushing back.

ALL RIGHT, JESUS.
SKYDIVING SIM. UNDERSTOOD.
Your now closer to the ground and are finally able to actually recognize the landmarks you are about to land on. At this point panic begins to set in; Will I be able to stop in time? What if my shoot gets caught on something? But before you can let anymore thoughts consume your mind you land.

You're*
chute*

My activity in a virtual reality game would have to be....Skydiving.

Oh really? I hadn't figured that out.

Why? Well, I would not want to try in real life for fear of the shoot not opening and plunging thousands of feet towards the ground to my eventual death. But falling through the air when I don't have a chance of making a mistake and just taking in the sites would be amazing.

God you're boring.
Are you joking? How many years of technological development are we away from fully realized virtual reality and you'd waste it on something you can do in real life? Not even something interesting. Just falling. FALLING SIMULATOR 2020.

It does not matter what the electronic is, the Wii, computers, or other hand held gadgets. I just don't get them. Although I have to admit that it is not all electronics I can under stand how to work a cell phone but besides that I feel like I am floundering in the middle of the ocean.

I've never seen understand written as two words.
I've seriously met people who thought it was spelled "unnerstand" but even they knew it was one word. Have you considered you might be floundering because you're an idiot?

This is not always a bad thing, with my laptop I never know what I am doing so when I stumble onto a new thing it is exciting until i can't remember how to get back to it later.

Solution we need a tutorial for electronics or at the very least a rep from the company to follow me along to answer my questions and show me where to click my mouse

Tutorial for electronics?
If only there was a book that had words written in it that explained how to work your technology. Maybe they could package it with the product?
We could call these words instructions.
An instruction book.
I'll inform the masses.

Ok so first you know that moment when you go out and you see that guy that was a total jerk to you in high school and he is working in some fast food type job, and then suddenly wants to know all about you, now.

No.
I don't.

I think it is called sweet justice when you get to laugh and drive away and he is still stuck there. Ahh, good times, but seriously he was a jerk in high school and you know that saying be nice to the nerds, cause one day they might be your boss, well this is a version of it, I like to call it "You should have been nicer to that kid, she may not be your boss but she is still doing better then you in LIFE!"

Somehow, with your command of the English language, I doubt you're doing much better than him. How are you even a nerd? You just said you don't understand technology, you clearly have almost 0 grasp of language and there is not a single entry of fanfiction on this shitty blog.
Are you that annoying girl who used to hang out with the group of nerds at your high school and they just wanted you to leave?
I dunno anymore, man.
Handily, I'm up to the beginning of this blog.
Good, I'm leaving.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

EVERYBODY BETRAY ME

I AM FED AHP WITH THIS WORL
So if you remember quite a while ago you could just browse Livejournal by category and finding blogs was as easy as clicking on the (cultureless) culture section. Ah, those halcyon days.
Not so anymore, though: now I have to rely on writer's block to see myself to a good blog.
Relying on the writer's block implies you need a decent question to get the cunts responding.
Don’t cheat. Do you know how many countries there are in the world?

Okay first there are 194 countries in the world and second what the fuck is this shit?
I need you to help me out here, Livejournal. We're not getting through this unless you give me targets.
Luckily, and in no part at all to Livejournal, I found one.

Hundred and eighty-two, maybe? Somewhere in that neighborhood.

Her response.
I'm posting this like anyone gives a shit.
There are 194 countries, incidentally. I just checked.

It has indeed happened: my baby is in double digits. She got a somewhat protracted birthday celebration, with Ikea (for stuffed sharks and dragons, natch) on Tuesday, with bonus free chicken thumbs because it was post-mouthreaming for me and mashed potaybees sounded like a delicious and not in need of chewing dinner and also kids eat free on Tuesdays.

I care even less about this than I normally do.
Is it possible to give a negative number of fucks?
Because I think I just proved it's possible.
I actually have to give less fucks about something I give fucks about in the future thanks to this blog.

Increasingly frustrated and pessimistic with the state of national affairs.

I posted the Elizabeth Warren quote that's going around to my facebook and got a somewhat predictable nibble from my too-smart-to-be-that-libertarian cousin in New Mexico, followed by a smackdown that I didn't even have to participate in (thanks, awesome friendslist!) but I'm still fussing over it because it's just not a medium for anything like a protracted discussion, and I have all sorts of more in depth thoughts to articulate, except argh, character limit and the boat has sailed already and also argh, thumbs on a tiny keyboard.

Goddamn you type some long sentences.
I never like to stop mid-sentence because it looks like I'm censoring so I find myself just quoting and quoting and quoting. Can you please get to the point? Also she included the Elizabeth Warren (I don't even know who that is) quote in a link I did delete because the article it linked to was too fucking stupid to bear plugging but suffice it to say the quote is about how taxing the wealthy is a good idea because those taxes pay for roads and to keep barbarian hordes (actual part of the quote) at bay.
And you thought your tax money was going to graft and corruption!
No, it was fighting barbarians, duh.
... I don't see any Goths or Vandals or Gauls, do you?
I think the tax money has done its job, then, all right.

Why yes, I do have a mohawk again. Was sorely tempted (and actually tempted, by partner-who-hates-mohawks daring me) to just go ahead and shave it all off, but I'm ever so fond of the hot pink. (Pic posted in the gallery, too lazy to thumbnail it here. Picture every other shot of me, only superimpose a hot pink mohawk over whatever hair comes to mind.)

She's 35, I'd like to point out.
35, with children. Pink mowhawk-- has three posts about how she's not intent on embarrassing her children because they're now at the age where they can be embarrassed by their parents (woe is her).
...
Strange disconnect, there.
Aiee. Having a bit of a peak in the ceaseless tides of my restlessness. Partly due to a determination not to let myself stop living after watching my parents and their sibs start to decide that they are old and decrepit, partly the usual instigator of "but what do I want to BE when I grow up?"

Am I looking at a coherent thought?
Nope, looks like pig noises to me.

Not that I'm ungrateful that I've managed to dodge the question thus far, but still wrestling with accepting that I will neither have a job that fulfills me, nor make enough money to support myself any time soon doing the things that I love.

Oh let me dredge up sympathy for my special princess.
MY JOB DOESN'T FULFILL ME ;_;
Weren't you just posting about how middle class people are resorting to food banks?
Hey, at least that isn't you.

So. As some of you are already aware, my kids go to the "environmental science" magnet school. (Well, actually, the older one now goes to the gifted, talented & performing arts middle school. Ay, the aging, it hurts.)

The what?
Actually there's one of those near where I live.
They were looking for a science teacher at a job fair I went to. I debated leaving my resume with them but somehow I doubt an English teacher is qualified to teach environmental science.
HIPPIE BULLSHIT was the one environmental science class I've had so I figure I'm as qualified as anyone, but I decided against it out of fear it would leave a bad impression.
Anyway, other than all THAT, it's totally green!*

That was a big selling point at the job fair, too.
THESE SCHOOLS ARE GREEN! The assistant to the assistant school board director stated proudly.
I had a moment where my eyes glazed over. Green in what?
Oh, green as environmentally friendly WHO GIVES A FUCK?
I'M FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE IN A DARWINIAN SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST CONTEST IN PUSSY SENSITIVITY. WHETHER THE LIGHT BULBS ARE RECYCLED IS PRETTY FAR DOWN ON MY LIST OF CONCERNS.
And like a true pussy (not sensitive, just a pussy) someone asked me what I thought about all the green schools. I should have spoken my fucking mind but you know what I said instead?
"I think it's a great thing."
This was briefly after I was asked if I wanted to leave my resume for the local prison that's hiring exactly one teacher.
I think no and thank you.

So last Friday was the ecofair slash school picnic, which was a complete clusterfracas. I was supremely irritated to be dealing with a crying child, because the email specifically said there would be a free BBQ and desserts sold by the PTA, yet when we got there an hour after it started there was no food other than the PTA table (selling rice krispie treats for a buck apiece), and at 6:30 a catering truck finally showed up with shitty mac n cheese, fried chicken, anemic salad, and a bunch of mayo-based food poisoning in a bowl type stuff. (Fried chicken and catering trucks: not a BBQ, last I checked.)

Oh right, I'm off topic.
Back to the non-point.
I cannot imagine going to something called an ecofair or siring a child interested in something called an ecofair.
No vegetarian option, unless you count the totally anemic garden salad, but whatevs. I didn't complain about that, because the PTA policy appears to be along the lines of "Open Thy Mouth And It Shall Become Thy Problem."

The only reason it should become a problem is if you're making it a problem. You were clearly interested in BBQ before so are you vegetarian?
No?
THEN WHY ARE YOU BITCHING ABOUT IT?
I lost patience, however, when I was standing on line (for half an hour) and saw how much plastic trash was on the ground. Cups, forks, little plastic toys that were party favors, and a handy plastic bag! to gather it all.

You should have seen the prodigious amounts of waste at the school where I interned. It was especially great during the great remodeling project when I got to scavenge through dumpsters for ink cartridges like it's a post-apocalyptic nightmare where I'm scavenging for useful parts to repair prewar equipment.
Eventually I found an ink cartridge in someone's printer.
Funny, you'd have thought I would have looked for one there first.

There IS such a thing as the truth, and there *is* a right thing to do, and anybody who tries to tell you otherwise is lying for political gain. This business about "Oh, well, everybody has a different opinion on whether that's a good thing?" BULL. SHIT.

Except they do.
This isn't really a thing you can argue. If there were an objective "right action" to take there wouldn't be the debates about what to do.

You can have an opinion in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, sure, but in the end THERE IS A RIGHT ANSWER.

If there's "evidence to the contrary" it stops being an opinion and becomes a fact.
I know I've said it before but opinions, that is, subjective ideas, can't really be right or wrong because they're exactly that: subjective.
The second you start talking about validity and proof and theory it stops being an opinion and becomes science or mathematics.
There is no room for opinions in these fields.

It usually does not involve fucking over the poor, minorities, women, or anybody else.

Except it usually does. Getting your way typically involves fucking someone else over.

I post employment ads daily. This morning, I was reamed out for the use of the phrase "licensed aides" in a headline for an ad which stated a NJ CHHA license as a requirement, because we might get responses from CNAs. (Whom we hire and use anyway, shh.)

Oh no not NJ CNAs instead of CHHAs!
This is shit I read constantly while looking for a job. I just ignore it and apply anyway, assuming whatever it is isn't a real thing (happens regularly) or it's not really that important.
Ignoring this alphabet soup bullshit has gotten me this far in life-- it will see me to the end.
Seriously, what is a CNA?
...
I don't know, actually.
Acronym finder proposes it's a Certified Nursing Assistant, which seems likely, but what's a CHHA?
Ah right, yeah. Certified Home Health Aid.
Have you people ever stopped to consider for a moment that perhaps we're too specialized?
What, pray tell, is the critical (I mean critical, like critical enough to explain to me) difference between a Certified Nursing Assistant and a Certified Home Health Aid?
Logically a CNA works in a hospital while a CHHA works at a home, but can't a nurse work at home, too?
Why is a nurse precluded from working with a patient at home?
Are these equally qualified positions?
Why does a nurse need an aid? Isn't she already an aid to a doctor?
Why is healthcare a chain of command now?
Why is it when I go to a doctor I see fifteen secretaries and three interns to get a ball of earwax removed from my ear and it's called surgery on my bill?
What is surgery, then? Apparently talking to a doctor qualifies as surgery now.

Edit: I should mention that I've been responsible for the ads for a year now, and until today it has been a-ok to use the phrase, as long as it's clear that we are officially only hiring CHHAs.

If you don't produce something you are a leech on society.
We can debate a bit about what constitutes production but if your job is hiring CNAs and CHHAs you are part of the problem.
Whoever coins these phrases is part of the fucking problem, too. CNA and CHHA-- nurse, got it.
Easy and to the point.

Would you rather be super-rich or super-smart if you would only be average in the other category?

So my choice is happy and rich or poor and miserable?
Is this seriously a choice I have to make?
"You can have sex with Natalie Portman or we can let a rabid wolf maul your crotch."
WELL LET ME THINK.
Name one smart person who is truly happy with things in life.

Gosh, let's see. Brilliant and comfortable financially, or super-rich and a C student? Well, as much as only one would ever let me be president, I think it's a no-brainer. Hell, I'd take poor and smart over rich and dumb enough to fall for teabagger propaganda. ;)

Funnily enough not taking rich and average proves you're pretty stupid so I guess you don't have either thing going for you.
Of course, this is someone who goes on (frequent) rants about politics on her Livejournal so her intelligence was questionable anyway.

You know what I hate about the Teabaggers?

This is coming off the post where she posts about how Republicans can only resort to name calling because they can't come up with a solid argument against Democrat logic.
Calling Tea Party members Teabaggers-- sort of like a name calling thing, huh?

No, not their "I done brung mahself up by mah bootstraps" posturing while they drive on public roads, go to public school, and enjoy substantial government subsidies to their daily life without which I can absolutely assure you they would NOT be anywhere near the top of the food chain.

No, not the "I got a (microscopically tiny) piece of the pie and Imma hang onto it and screw everybody else!" shortsightedness, egotism, and overall fuckwittery.

This is what we in the litfag world call a "strawman" attack where you're basically just putting words in their mouth and then refuting points they didn't specifically make but whatever, proceed.

Maybe a little bit that god damn it, there are FACTS involved in the shit they're talking about, and they are not only wrong about what they are, but completely wrong about what's a matter of verifiable, documentable goddamn FACTS and what's an opinion. Just because it doesn't support your world view doesn't mean it's an opinion, asshole. Did I mention that there are things which are true and how completely wrong about some of them you are?

Do you want to give me an example or can I just call you an idiot and move on?
I've tried various bathing suit shapes over the years. Piping to give me a "bust" and "hips" in my cross-country, 34AA-26-34 days.

I can't take this shit anymore. I officially know too much about you.
I'm sure I've said before that anymore than a handful is a waste but 34AA doesn't even qualify as a handful.
And I'm sure you're not a brown girl.
And even if you are I think you're trouble and I don't like you.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Oh

Hi.
Get ready to witness this guy's mess of a life.

When was the last time you said thank you?

Not two hours ago when me and a bunch of intrepid adventurers purged death cultists from the face of FFXIV.
RECIDIVISTS, HERETICS AND MUTANTS.

I'm saving up my "Thank you's" until after the divorce :) .

Oh yep, I clicked on this blog purely for the promise of divorce drama.
And it delivered, so here we are.
At first I reckoned this to be a woman but a quick rethinking of that stance and I decided it was likely a man. Whose fury over a divorce could be so incandescent to warrant this, yet so impotent as to force you to keep a blog about it?
Only a man could be so utterly emasculated.
A woman might get angry but she could at least take comfort in taking the house and the car and 50% of the other assets and the children.
Oh but nope, this is one of those "sensible" divorces where everyone stays friends at the end.
Except no, I don't foresee that happening.
lol
I'm not going to rehash all the ill fortune I've had this year.
Just wanted to wish all of you a better, happier & more fulfilling New Year.
2012...

I wish you would have, because at this rate I need a scorecard.
edit:
Chris, the lady I asked out, texted me a "Happy New Year" too! This time she said she'd like a lunch date, no hesitation.

Rebound girlfriend.

Of course she may just be 'being nice' since I'm interested in buying a horse trailer from her.
WTF? A person can never have too many friends :) .

Just a friend who you're asking out.
On a date.
I walked in on the ex, while she was using her office phone for personal calls, on Thursday. What a BITCH! She was rude & obnoxious to me for no reason other than HER guilty conscience. I hope she loses this job, after I'm gone.

You could see to that, I imagine.
You just admitted you wished for revenge. This would be felt like a keen edge, I think.

Yesterday I went to Laramie for some books & videos, then out to the cabin. Just avoiding the BITCH until she leaves for her whoring expedition. First holiday we've spent apart in 12yrs. Hope she lives through the worst weekend of her life, and that its her last rational thought many years down the road.

"I hope its (sic) her last rational thought many years down the road", what?
What does that mean?
So you hope something bad happens to her and that the knowledge that it was bad occurs to her only later?
That's an interesting thing to wish on someone.
Assuming that is what you mean but frankly you're a semiliterate idiot so who knows.
Took the last of the prescription meds Friday. I needed the crutch at a really bad time, but its time to move on.
Those drugs not only stopped depression, and stabilized my moods... they also shaved 30 points right off the top of my IQ.

Oh that's great.
If your story is to be believed (and it isn't) your wife cheated on you and is taking half your assets.
Of course you're depressed. You don't need pills, you need a plan in life.
Worked another half day yesterday. Afterwards went to Walmart, wanted more ammo in my stash but they were out of my flavor.

OH GOOD.
I HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE, I JUST STOPPED TAKING ANTIDEPRESSANTS AND LET ME SHOP FOR AMMO AT THE WAL-MART.

Still have to haul my Faraday cage out there.

Why do you own a Faraday cage?
Faraday cages, for those of you not familiar with science or fucking crazy talk, is a device used to block electric currents.

Google the upcoming 2012 solar storms if you have any questions. Lots of info on the web. There is a real possibility of grid failure for months!!!

If the grid fails your fucking crazy tinfoil hat won't help.

OK, I de-boned an antelope, melted lead and cast more bullets, made a powder measure with an old antler tip (67gr), & stained some shelving for the cabin.

Glad to see you're keeping busy in hillbilly land.

We get some wooden pallets at work that come with some nice lumber. The whorls & knots on some pieces are quite attractive when the stain hits them.
Now I'm at loose ends again. Must find something to occupy myself. I wanted to put an edge on a knife I recently bought, but the metal was tempered unevenly when cut. I'll have to find a blacksmith to correct that.

A blacksmith?
Taking the bones out of an antelopes?
Are you a FFXIV character?
Is this just an elaborate roleplay for a video game I don't understand?
In my last blog I mentioned having more in the joint account than either of us realized. Well, I've had time to think. There is no way she didn't have a clue about the amount, she handled that account and received the banking statements monthly. So in effect she was hiding the total from me, to pull out at a later date without my knowing. What chaps my ass is that the moneys were put there through MY direct deposit from work, no contribution from her, and I got half! Oh well, at least I got something.

>Money she didn't earn
>she gets half
You know, if I robbed you of half your money right now at gunpoint you wouldn't be saying "oh well, at least I got something."
But, really, consider it your "too stupid to follow my sage advice" tax and leave it at that.
Admittedly you're 52 and got married 12 years ago (when I was busy being hurrr durrr 13) but still, I figured this shit out, you could have too.

My extravagance was in ordering a cartridge bandoleer for my .44mag Mares Leg.

What the fuck?
A mares leg, for those of you blissfully unaware of crazy bullshit, is a rifle with a shortened barrel and stock.
It's basically halfway between a pistol and a carbine.
I was under the (obviously mistaken) impression this wasn't a real weapon but was sometimes featured in movies because it looked cool, but here we are.
Great.

The bandoleer is from Triple K. A Mares Leg is historically a lever action rifle shortened at the barrel and stock, used as a large handgun.

Yeah that's what I just said.
I didn't know they were lever action though so thanks for clarifying.
I guess.
I don't need more crazy shit in my head because I look as crazy as you people do explaining this shit.

The one I have was manufactured that way to avoid all the BS incumbent with illegally modifying an existing rifle.

Those bullshit gun laws not wanting you to modify rifles so you can fire them like pistols.
WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU WANT TO KEEP PEOPLE FROM DOING THAT?
For anyone who is curious, its the Ranch Hand made by Rossi.
I'll have an acquaintance of mine, who is good with leather work, mate the bandoleer to my holster. The holster is in actuality an abbreviated saddle scabbard I had purchased for my Australian stock saddle.

I don't know whether to horrified at the hillbilly off antidepressants purchasing a rifle with a pistol grip or impressed because his real life sounds like an average day in FFXIV to me.
I'm still ambivalent about the divorce. I still love her despite everything, but divorce is all that's left after her numerous affairs.
Personally, I think there is something organically wrong inside her head, making my devoted wife of 12yrs perform acts of bad judgement.

I've preached the philosophy before knowing full well it would be ignored.
Just like Jesus.
Last weekend was a fiasco.

I got thoroughly drunk and wrecked a lot of stuff, hers and mine. Even trashed the internet dish. Been sober for almost five years.

The hits
The hits, they keep rolling.
Man, this guy is actually really boring. Except for the occasional outburst like that (with no follow up, I might add) it's just typical bullshit.
Ehhhh and I don't really see the rest of this blog happening. I was hoping for a big reveal but it just never really panned out.