August 29, 2005



At long last I can get on the internet again. Granted our little brush with Katrina wasn't nearly as terrible as those in the Gulf states but she did pack a nice wallop upon us anyway. As this is my first hurricane, I decided to document the event and will now share it with you:

Last Wednesday a little storm was born and named Katrina. She was fed well and grew a little bit faster than anyone expected. As she made her way towards land, she over did it on dinner one night and became a category one hurricane and made threatening moves to the locals. The locals all laughed and laughed at her, "Pshaw! We've been through Andrew, you're nothing!" and promptly ignored her. This caused Katrina great angst and she fought back with a vengeance.

Never let anyone tell you that a category one hurricane is nothing because they either lie or are fools.


1:00pm: After being ordered to come into work early, the staff is let off to go home and "hunker down" as they like to say round these parts and prepare for Katrina to pass over. Offices will be closed Friday and will probably open back up Saturday. (HA! HA! HA! What fools we were!)

1:30pm: Get home. Decide to go to store and buy non refrigerated food just in case. Debate purchase of water but think to self, "Self, you have a water filter at home on your tap, you don't need to buy bottled water." Realize later how stupid that was to say. Buy cup o noodles for food. Realize later how stupid that was to buy. Hi, I'm cup o noodles and I need water...heated cook? Yah, remember me? Dork. Go on and buy me then, I'll just sit on your shelf, useless.

2:05pm: Walk back the two blocks home. Am if I had taken a shower fully clothed, by the time I get home. As in, water was pouring down my face making it hard to see, drenched. Katrina's coming!

2:15pm: Groceries, (HA!), put away. Stand at window and watch trees sway in breeze. Think to self, "Eh, this isn't such a big deal."

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4:05pm: BANG!!!! Almost shit self. Transformer nearby blows.

4:19pm: Standing watch at window. See satellite dishes which are connected to roof being blown back and forth. Think to self, "those are going to fall."

4:19pm: Watch part of roof/overhang rip off, satellite dish included, fall past window. Almost shit self.

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4:25pm: Go downstairs and watch hurricane approach with neighbors out doorway.

4:50pm: See new Russian neighbor hauling bags of groceries, drenched, run out to help. Hang out in her apartment for a spell.

4:55: Clink cigarettes that we are having, together as we are both celebrating our very first hurricane together. Watch her sliding glass doors, which face the west, bow in and out and wonder when they will shatter. Guard eyes.

5:20pm: Sharing semi-nervous conversation with Russian neighbor and watch perfect circular green ball of electricity glow as two power lines rub together repeatedly just outside window. Think to self like it better in own apartment. No electric lines to watch and no sliding glass doors. Contemplate excuse to escape.

5:25pm: Watch pieces of roof fall off and land on Russian neighbor's balcony. Think harder for excuse.

6:00pm: Successfully came up with excuse and am now back in own apartment. Not so bad here. Kinda peaceful on this side anyway. Open beach windows, poke head outside, look down to ground and notice all satellite dishes are on ground, some bent, some dented, some strangling themselves on their cables, some broken in two. Thank self for not getting satellite.

6:02pm: More pieces of roof fall off apartment building and bam! into side of apartment. Not liking noise. Consider joining cats glued under the bed.

6:21pm: Katrina shifts, eye goes directly over house. Think, "cool!" Get some peace for awhile. So peaceful, doesn't even seem like hurricane is still there. Have visited Noaa site enough to know better.

6:30pm: News states eye of storm over my area. Think, "Duh." Boy, they're quick.

Fall asleep. Yes, that calm.

8:00pm: Wake up.

8:01pm: Wind picks up again, ferociously, power flickers but does not go out, lose cable. Neighbors in two apartment buildings over not so lucky. They lose power.

8:16pm: Fuzzy local channel news, no sound. Loving close captioning right now.

8:26pm: Lights flicker on and off. Wind at 80mph now.

8:32pm: Sound back, still fuzzy, still no cable.

9:41pm: Still windy but not so bad anymore.

9:50pm: Overpass on major freeway collapses. Thankfully no one on that road. Still stupid fools driving around my neighborhood though.

10:01pm: Massive rain. Did Noah come back to build ark? Think to self this would be good idea. Too late. Note for next time: build ark.

11:00pm: All the excitement makes me tired. Pass out.


Aftermath. Bored. Bored, bored, bored. Trees down, debris everywhere, million without power, no phone service....can't go outside...bored, bored, bored.

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Get up for work since can't reach emergency hotline to know if work open today. Get to work at 8:15am. Building has no lights on. Call Supervisor. Poor planning. Everyone shows up, stands around for a half an hour till boss shows up and says, "We're going to call it a day. No power." Think to self, "Duh. Could have slept in." Go home. Bored, bored, bored, bored.

Realize I got lucky. Where my work is and where many co-workers live got hit hard.

Saturday night

Go out because there are celebrities in town and I promised to snap photos. Walk and walk and walk. Can't get in to so many clubs. This bites. Start to walk back up the avenue in South Beach and am stopped by police escort for a certain celebrity rapper. Crowd finds out who it is and screaming and thundering herd ensue. Get shoved around. Think this person is full of self. Police escort? Looks like it was a presedential motorcade and is only a rapper. Pscht! Screw this, I'm going home. Can't go home. Cannot get past hotel because Mr. I'm So Famous Rapper's police escort is holding us all back. Start to get annoyed. Ears bleeding from all the screaming. Want to vomit.

Watch bus go by. Fuck! Miss bus by two second because of Mr. Fancy Pants Rapper and his police escort. Hate rapper. Walk. Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk. Never see another bus going my way till 10 blocks from home. By this time I have already walked 65 blocks. Am tired. Blisters forming. Legs killing me. Sweating up a storm. Want to beat rapper. Luckily am cooled by wind blowing from Katrina's arm bands still reaching us.

Make it home at exactly the same time that Shug Knight was shot at the Shore Club. Coincidence of course but still odd. Collapse. Walked a total of 90 blocks Saturday night and gained a pound. The fuck?!


Bored, bored, bored, bored. Still no cable. Thank lucky stars have power. Poor neighbors in two apartment buildings over still no power. Feel bad for them. Enjoy a/c. Sleep tons. Watch DVDs all day.

Sunday night

Am pissed can't watch VMA awards but still thankful I even have power. Decide to watch PBS as that is the only channel coming in clearly. Learn a lot about cows. More than ever wanted to know. Also learn that in the Masai tribe in Africa, one member was so distraught over news of 9/11 that he gave up some of his cows to the people of NY City. To the Masai tribe, the gift of a cow is considered the ultimate gift of friendship. Am touched. Wipe tear from eye.

Pass out.


Go to work. Holy shit! Major backlog. Phone never stops ringing. We don't get lunch break. Want to scream. Need cigarette! Will kill! Finally am off, get home, have cable again! YAY! Look out window: Poor neighbors in two apartment buildings over still have no power. Feel pity for them.

And of course the people in the gulf states had it far worse than we did. I suggest that everyone donate something to the Red Cross for those poor souls. Some have lost everything...before I left for work today, I saw on the fuzzy news that some people's homes were flooded to the ceilings...and that was half way through the hurricane. A category one did this much damage around here....they had a category 4 and are not nearly as equipped to handle it like we are. Those people need help. Take what I went through and multiply it by 100 and you have a glimpse into how dreadful it's going to be for them for some time.

And now I'm tired. I must go. There is another storm brewing off the Lesser Antilles and hopefully nothing will come of it but still need sleep just in case it does. And hope for the best.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 10:42 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

August 24, 2005

We Don't Need No Stinking Back Up Site!

So the site was down for a spell and it would be in your best interest to at least pretend you knew that.

Some sort of insect has made a smorgasboard out of me the past two nights. I'm feeling pretty with all my red welts on my legs and arms. Just in time for all the celebrities who will be coming out for the Video Music Awards hosted in my city. Have I mentioned what incredible timing I have? Oh it's the best!

I'm off Sunday so I'm going to see if I can get down there and sneak photos of some stars like a ridiculous groupie with the exception that I'm doing it all for you. I'm willing to look like an ass just for you guys. I know! I AM giving!

I have started carrying my camera around with me because I see some strange and interesting things around here these days. For example: Yesterday as I was getting ready for work, I went to look out my window, (I do this every day as a reminder that I live in paradise-kind of like my 'zen' moment if you will), and I saw signs on the doors of the apartment building across the way. I whipped out my binoculars and read:

"DANGER! Serious lethal poisoning..." That'll jolt you wide awake. I was going to snap a photo of it but by the time I got home the signs were down. They managed to remove a seriously lethal poison out of all of those apartments in less than 9 hours? I don't know if I'll ever be able to find out what happened because I don't speak Spanish so I'll leave you with this thought:

On the way home the other day I took a nice, scenic route down the street with all the richie rich rich houses where the speed limit is 30. I came across a sign that said, "Don't even think about speeding" So what happens if I think about it? And how can I not think about it now that they have brought the thought to my attention? I wasn't thinking of speeding before but I see this sign and now that's all I can think about. Will this argument work in front of a judge should I get pulled over for thinking of speeding? And how would I argue my way out of a ticket like that?

Officer: "Do you know how fast you were thinking of going?"

Me: "I was only thinking of going 35!"

Officer: "We clocked you thinking of going 110, ma'am."

Me: "Oh I hardly think that's correct. I don't even think my mind goes up that high. Maybe I was thinking of going 80 but certainly not 110 sir!"

Officer: "License and registration ma'am."

Unless it's a motorcycle cop, then there's no point in arguing. Well anyway, thought police aside, time for me to go through my hurricane kit and see if I have everything I need. So far tropical storm Katrina seems relatively harmless but nature has a way of being a real bitch sometimes so I better double check things.

You know the only part that sucks is that I have to work those days and if it does become a hurricane either:

a) They'll give us the days off which is good for safety reasons, especially cause I don't want to leave my cats here alone while the storm passes over, (I'm reaaaaaaaaal close to the ocean, see?) but is bad because that means less money in my pocket.

b) They won't give us the day off and I'll have to worry about my pets all day long and do I still have a house to go home to, CAN I get home, the traffic will be a mess, water everywhere, trees, power lines....BAH!

Sigh. I know they will act according to safety first but Katrina just needs to keep her windy ass calm and pass over quietly.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 03:56 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

August 20, 2005

You Got Red On You

I almost had heart failure about 10 minutes ago. I had been laying in bed watching a movie and when it was over, I got up to take it out of the player. Something out the window caught my eye so I turned my head to see what it was only to find I was being stared at.

I live on the second floor of the building. There's no ground to stand on just outside my window; I shouldn't be seeing a body when looking straight out of it yet there I was, staring into the eyes of a peeping tom.

I started, my heart went straight into my throat and I lost the ability to breathe. I recovered myself, leaped to my desk to grab my camera and snapped a shot of the culprit.

Here he is:


That little bastard scared the shit out of me. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to move either. When I first saw him he was directly outside my window, sitting on that large cable you see. This photo was my second attempt as the previous one I took with the window closed and it turned out terribly. As I opened the window he turned around and walked about two feet before stopping and turning around to stare at me some more. Honestly? I think he was enjoying the movie with me. He should have spoken up, maybe I would have shared my popcorn with him.

And for those who will ask what movie I was watching: Shaun of the Dead

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 10:54 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

August 16, 2005

The $349 Tank Of Gas


Got the car into the dealer shop today and do you know what was wrong with it?

Remember how I stated that I had driven to the gas station and filled up my car just before heading home and how a mere two blocks later the car was almost dead?

I'll tell you why...because the service station, the one that rhymes with Mexico, has shitty gas and it nearly destroyed my car. Yes, the gas I had pumped from "Mexaco" was so bad, so oily, it clogged up my fuel lines so that fuel wasn't getting to the parts it needed to get to.

Naturally I was questioned whether I put diesel in the tank on accident, because, I'm a girl so of course I'm so stupid that even though I've pumped gas a fratillion times, perhaps this time I didn't know what I was doing. Or maybe silly girl that I am, got distracted, say, by a pretty butterfly floating by and accidentally hit the wrong number at the gas pump.

That was really pissing me off and I finally told the dealer, "Look, I'll take a damn picture of the pump so you can see I'm not stupid, I know which gas to use, I've done it thousands of times. Capice?" He finally got the picture to lay the hell off.

The repairs were a matter of $30 total but I had the pleasure of paying almost $300 in labor costs because they had to drain the entire tank of gas I had just purchased, ($45 worth), and flush the fuel lines twice and test it after putting about 3 gallons of their own gas in there.

They gave me a sample of the crappy gas to take to the Mexaco station which I will do, along with the receipt I printed out as I had paid via credit card at the pump, (see? Always get a receipt), and tell them they owe me $349 dollars.

Of course they will deny me this and will try to shift the blame onto me, perhaps accusing me of being nothing more than a ditzy little girl who needs a guy to show her how to fill her cute little car up with gas so that she can go go go! and I will get pissed and then write a letter to the corporate office who will in turn write me a letter in response that won't even address the issues but will merely say, "Thank you for contacting Mexaco with your concerns. We take every customer seriously. We hope that your issues have come to an amicable resolution and that you will entrust Mexaco for future needs. Here's a coupon in the amount of $1.28 to purchase a 20oz soda on us. We thank you for your patronage."

And of course I'll get riled, shoot off an angry letter back, they'll ignore me for a few weeks and then some poor schmuck will have to write me back and tell me that at this time Mexaco will not be able to reimburse me for the gasoline or the damages caused to my car unless I send the sample and you can't send gasoline in the fucking mail so this will be a complete and total waste of time, I'll only get fucking irritated and I'll be right back where I started.

The good news is, the car is fixed, (knock on wood), and eventually I will have to go in and get two new fuel lines and a fuel filter but that is going to have to wait till next paycheck.

So my car really needs your prayers and thoughts and well wishes that it has made a full recovery. As do I because without this car, I cannot get to work and without work, I have no money and without money, I have no home.

Guess I can sleep on the ground of the Mexaco doorway if that happens, you know, since they value me so much.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 08:19 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

August 15, 2005


I finally got the mechanic apprentice type dude to come over, (not the actual mechanic but a guy who works at the dealer and knows a little bit about cars), and we have discovered what the problem is not:

It's not the battery, alternator or fuel pump. What's happening is that the fuel is not getting to the engine. I find this fascinating considering that before I brought the car to the dealer, it was getting fuel. It still ran, even though smoke was coming out of the hood, but now it won't turn over.

Also? More good luck. The day I brought it home, I had to stop and get gas. I had the a/c going on just before all this, started to hear some noise from the engine, turned it off, all seemed fine. Got to the gas station, went to put the nozzle down the neck and it wouldn't go in. The selenoid...whatever, the little silver flap that is supposed to slide back to gather fuel would not. I had to shove the nozzle in there to get gas and then yank it hard, back out.

I looked around online and maybe that's a fuse that blew but for fuck's sake...all those things worked before I brought the car in.

So, joy of all joys, I get to shell out another $125 to tow the car back to the dealer and have them look at it and tell me I owe them the rest of my savings, vial of blood, portion of my soul.

But I do have good news! The technician came out for my internet on Saturday and just like I've been telling those assholes for two solid months now, it's NOT my equipment, it's something of theirs. Lo and behold! AGAIN I'm right. It was a problem on their line.

So I got a refund for a week's worth of internet usage. Should get a month free since every time I called the first thing that splurted out of their mouths was, "It's your modem. We'll send a tech, it will cost you $30, you will have to return your modem to the company that made it, and we will also charge you to rent one of ours in the meantime."

Without fail. They said it every single time no matter how many times I told them they were wrong. But I'm just a girl, what the hell would I know about internet and lines and signals and such. DUH! I hate armchair techs who know nothing about the product and read off a script. Bitches.

Hopefully tomorrow I will find out that to fix my car is really easy, inexpensive and I'll have no more issues. Pray. Pray hard.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 10:34 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

August 13, 2005

I'll Take A Shot Of Anything, Bartender


Very precious house pet. Answers to the name of Dolares. Color: Green with specks of white. Last seen wrapped in plastic in the hands of the cashier at the VW dealer.

Please contact me if you have any information regarding the return of my dear Dolares. A reward of one of its children if found.

So this previous week sucked rotten apples. I've had a few illnesses in the family. Top that with hard core studying and hoping to pass the final today and it all combines to one shitty week.

The first illness came along Monday morning. I was on my way to the second week of training for work, feeling pretty good, even whipped out the removable car stereo and had it blaring when all of a sudden:



lights, smoke, sons of car coughed up half a lung.

I pulled over to the side of the road and opened the hood to look inside. I'm not quite sure why I bothered to do this because I had no idea what I was looking for or how to fix it once I found it. Yet I had to do something and I had to appear like I knew what I was doing so that all the other commuters passing by wouldn't see me just standing there, on the sidewalk, staring at the side of my car.

After a trip to the hospital, (literally), and a few phone calls later, I had the baby towed to the dealer. They gave me a courtesy ride to work and then promptly ignored my car the remainder of the day. Hot damn, that's some fine customer service.

The car was eventually completed and ready to be brought home on Thursday evening but not before another illness settled over the small circle of friends I have.

My bank account suffered a serious loss of weight and is currently being monitored closely for any signs of impending death as I had to shell out $1900 to get the car fixed. There are no words to describe the pain this brought me.

I hopped into my car, drove it all the way home, only to have the car go into relapse and now it sits, outside my apartment, clinging to life. Needless to say I'm on a first name basis with the dealer, as in, I call up, when they answer I say, "Hi. This is S. Faolan" and they know exactly who I am and why I'm calling.

Unfortunately I will once again need to restrict the calories in the bank account to aid the ailing car and if the car doesn't bounce back to top health this time, I may be attending both their funerals.

Then, just to add insult to injury, my internet connection has been down since Sunday. I can't possibly tell you how delighted I've been with only Micrsoft Hearts to keep me company. Protocal states that I must contact the company and listen to them condascend me and inform me that it's my equipment that is bad and I must make an appointment for a technician to come out, fork over more money, return the equipment, at my own cost, despite the fact that it's only 3 months old and I purchased it from said company, deposit more money into their open pockets as I rent equipment from the company who sold me the modem that is only three months old but is obviously broken because apparently "Not the Pacific Ocean The Other One Broadband" has a nasty habit of selling crap supplies to customers in order to make more money, while I wait for my "new but broken anyway" equipment to be fixed.

So I did just that.

The technician is supposed to be here tomorrow. I'm not decided if I should bother to get dressed. I know it's a special occassion, what with being wallet raped and all, but I figure if I'm going to get screwed, what's the point of getting out of my pajamas?

Oh, and just to really throw lemon juice and salt into the already gaping wound, I read an article the other day that showed an image of that Kevin or Keith or K someone, that Britney Spears is married to, driving a fat, sick car and it goes on to caption that this douche bag bought that car from the earnings of their saliva infested home video tapes show they had running for a few weeks.

Bloody fucking hell people.

I work my ass off every day and can barely afford to fix my poor little car in its most desperate time of need but this assclown can afford a car worth more money than I'll ever see in my life because he slapped his tongue all over Britney's face and mouth in night vision?

Where's the fucking justice?

Anyway, I passed my final, I can now start earning some major money and hope it likes its new accommodations and will stick around for a little while. I'm not mean to my money. I don't understand why it keeps running away from home.

Guess I better get this up before the internet goes out or before the technician comes over and makes things worse....and then of course, requesting payment for it.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 12:34 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

August 05, 2005

Oy Mi Cabeza!

I'm so stupid. Stupid! Sometimes I can't believe the stupid things I do. Take today for instance. Ok, first, back track:

I do not drink coffee. I do not like the taste. I love the smell but the taste, no matter what shade or brand or flavor, is all bitter to me. I can add sugar but I have to add so much sugar I may as well just eat the sugar and leave the coffee behind. Got that? I hate coffee. I do not drink it.

Back to present day:

So, my brilliant move today was to drink some coffee. That may not seem like such a big deal but this was not normal coffee. See, we are in training this week and next and sometimes it is really hard to stay awake in class especially when the trainer turns the lights off so that we may better see the Windows display on the wall. I, as well as many other classmates, have had to fight off sleep many a time but today was bad for all of us.

Therefore, at about 2:30pm today one of the ladies went to the break room and came back with some coffee and was handing it out in little tiny cups, like those cups you get for ketchup at a fast food joint if you eat in the restaurant, to everyone on our side of the room. As I was losing my battle and about to find myself smacking my face on the desk as I crashed to sleep, I decided to take one. Even though I don't drink coffee, I thought, idiotically, "Well, it's just a small amount, it shouldn't hurt."

The problem? The way this lady made the coffee made it really good. It was so good that I decided perhaps I could become addicted to coffee afterall. Yes, that good. So on next break I asked how to make it, (you see, I don't drink coffee...did you miss that part? So why would I know how to make it?), she showed me and I filled up a styrofoam cup of the stuff and walked back to the class room.

Apparently the little tiny ketchup cups did not register with me as to how foolish this action might be. I drank about half of it before anyone decided to clue me the hell in.

I was then told that I was drinking CUBAN coffee. I casually sipped more from the cup as I inquired what was so special about Cuban coffee. Sip, sip. Blink innocently. What? What's so funny guys? Um...guys? Why are you laughing? Sip, sip.

I was then informed.

Ever wonder why Cuban coffee is served in such small cups? Ever wonder why you don't see anyone walking around with a 32 oz mug of Cuban coffee? It's like getting a caffiene IV and even experienced coffee drinkers know better than to gulp down more than an ounce or so of this stuff at a time. And it's fivehundredthousand times worse for someone who NEVER DRINKS FUCKING COFFEE or caffiene at all for that matter.

So my fellow class mates were having a blast talking about how wired I was going to be so very, very soon; laughing at my coffee naivety. You see, I drank about 10 oz of this stuff before anyone informed me of what I was doing.

Well I'm not hyper, I'm not wired, I'm not anything except in serious pain. Pain. Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain.

I could have every inch of my skin grated off with a cheese slicer and feel less pain.

I could pour lemon juice straight into a thousand paper cuts all over me and feel less pain.

I could allow someone to swing a sledgehammer square in the middle of my face and feel less pain.

I could have all my fingernails ripped out, one by one and feel less pain.

My head hurts so. fucking. bad right now. If I could take it off and put it in the freezer for approximately 7 hours, I just might start to feel a wee bit better.

Where's Dr. Kevorkian? I really need him to be here right now. And if you ever catch me thinking or suggesting that drinking a 10 ounce cup of Cuban coffee is a fantastic idea ever again, feel free to shoot me, that is, if my head doesn't implode before the night is over. Why I'm allowed out of the house in the morning without adult supervision I'll never know.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 09:15 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

August 01, 2005

The Chunks That Keep Me Awake

I apparently am indeed writing to myself so I'd like to take a moment to purge some thoughts so that maybe I can get a whopping three hours of sleep tonight.

Tomorrow, today, rather, is my first day of work. What do I do? Well, I'm tired at 6pm but tell myself to stay up at least three more hours so that I don't fall asleep too early and wake up at 3am and have four hours to hang around and get tired again. At 9:30pm I get all into bed like a good little girl, with my HP book, (oh yes, I could have easily read this in one day but I like to savor these books so I force myself to put them down periodically), and think, foolishly, that I will soon be fast asleep so that I may be well rested, alert and comprehending for my first day.

Does this go according to plan?

Need you ask? Have you read anything here before?

First of all, I was towards the end of the book and it got really good and did a fabulous job of playing on my vivid imagination causing my nerves to tingle and heart to race as I sped through each paragraph, the tension mounting. While I won't spoil it for anyone who may have not finished by now, I'm extremely displeased with the ending.

At 11pm I am greeted by a very close and in your face lightning storm that was so loud and sizzling that I hid in my hallway. Seriously. Those strikes were right here within two blocks of where I live if not on the block where I live. I love storms but that stuff tonight scared the crap out of me.

So that passes and I think, stupidly, "No worries, I still have plenty of sleeping time left." Until 1:20 am when some doofus comes banging on my door looking for the new, hot neighbor I told you about in the previous entry. Thanks assface. I was this close to dreamland. He knocks on my door, by the time I got to the door and looked out the little peephole, I saw a flash of red going down the stairs and heard knocking on the downstairs neighbor's door. They had some conversation and I started to head back to bed when fuckweasel is back at my door knocking again. I opened it and he asked for the new neighbor. I told him he had the wrong apartment and went to close the door. He asked if I knew her or knew of anyone who had just moved in. Dudes, it's 1:20 in the morning so all I could think to sputter out was, "Um....I'm not going to share that information with you because I don't think I'm supposed to." I then closed the door. If this had been earlier that night, I would have said something better but I can't be on top of my game all the time.

So I head back to bed. Now I have only 5 1/2 hours till I have to get up so this prompts me to toss and turn thinking about how I only have 5 1/2 hours to sleep and that makes me wide awake. Even though I'm tired as shit.

I put in the one movie that has always worked for this sort of situation. Until tonight. Tonight I'm laying there, thinking of all kinds of crap and can't turn off my mind. I'm thinking of the letter I'm going to write to new neighbor about her late night visitor. I'm thinking about how ticked off I am that it takes me a year to get my pillows back just the way I need them because even though it has been six years since I got into a bad car accident, I still get to pay with injuries. I can't just flop on the bed and pass out anymore like I used to, I have to have pillows situated just so and certain heights for the neck, back and legs and it's such a damn joy when I have to get up and lose that comfort. It takes a long time to get it just right again. You would think I'd be an expert at it by now but alas, I am not.

So then I start getting angry about that whole thing again and how the fucker who hit me took off and even though he was chased and the license plate was taken down, the damn detectives did nothing about it because the assweed said that his car was "stolen". Even though it was back at his house. Yes, cause that's a common thing criminals do...steal something and then bring it back to the owner despite possible detection.

Then I started going over the whole arbitration and settlement and getting more ticked off because I am indeed still bitter about it, (see above where I have to shift pillows around to this day..imagine what else I endure), and then calmed myself down by saying, "Hey, you could be dead or in a wheelchair."

Well this prompted a memory of one night at a club about a year after my accident and meeting some guy in a wheelchair. I talked to him because it was a great reminder to me that I could have been in that contraption. He, idiot that he is, took it to mean I felt sorry for him so he tried to play on my sympathies and get me to buy him drinks all night long. I said I was going to the bar to get another drink did anyone want anything while I was there. He puts his order in, offers no money so I thought, "Fine, I'll get it when I get back." I come back with his expensive ass drink and he still offers no money.

Now, most guys think they are so smooth and clever and fool us girls with sympathy stories or some other such bullshit but the fact of the matter is, at least in my case, I'm always waiting to see if the person will do the right thing. It may cost me $5.50 but I find out rather quickly. So this douche bag thought I was feeling sorry for him and buying him drinks because of that when in reality, I was thinking how lucky I was not to be in a wheelchair and talked to him to further drive the point home so that on days when I did start feeling sorry for myself because of the never ending pain, I would be able to remind myself of this person. And the drink thing was all about courtesy but it didn't mean I was going to buy everyone a fucking drink. I was merely asking if they wanted me to bring them know, one person goes and gets the drinks but everyone pays for their own damn alcohol consumption? So I'm sure this asshole was high fiving his buddies later that night thinking he got another freebie off some girl who was all sad about his situation but that wasn't it at all. Just wanted to see what kind of person he was. I saw it.

Then I realized I have less than 4 hours of sleep to go and think this sucks complete ass because I was being all good and shit and look where that got me....sigh.

At that point it dawned on me that tomorrow is my birthday. And I'm getting old. I don't feel old. I don't look old. I still get carded. But damn, dudes, I'm fucking old tomorrow! Like, when I was 15? I thought this age was ooooold and here I am! Contrary to how it goes for others, this period of time has not passed quickly so it just heightens the old feeling because I'm like, "Man! I've been alive forever!!"

So now I'm old, tired and still pissed off about something that happened six years ago...I have two cats...I yell at the noisy neighbor kids....for fuck's sake. Someone get me a rocking chair and about 38 more cats and I'll be set.

Anyway, hopefully getting this shit out of my head and down somewhere else the thoughts will leave me alone and I can restart the movie that always puts me to sleep and maybe, just maybe I'll get 3.5 hours of sleep.

Unless the cats want to continue playing in the litter box like they have been doing all night.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 03:15 AM | Comments (6) | TrackBack