January 29, 2006


Work: For the love of God, please, please turn off the a/c. I know we live in the tropics but did you not notice the past few weekends it has been in the 40s? We do not need air conditioning on days such as those. You wonder why so many people are calling in sick, using up all their time at the beginning of the year....it's because we are all freezing to death at work and getting sick. TURN OFF THE FUCKING A/C!

Miscellaneous Drivers On The Road: Please...PLEASE, will you just make up your mind how fast you are going to drive? If you decide to fly down the street to get in front of the line of cars nearing the on ramp to the freeway, then once you get on the freeway, would you please pick up the pace? You drove 60mph in a 40mph zone but then hit the freeway and drove 35mph!

And when we are on the freeway, you can't decide if you wish to go 75mph or 50mph. There you are, driving along at 75...then, for no apparent reason whatsoever, you slow down....70, 60, 55, 50....and you drive this slow for a few miles. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bug flies up your ass and you gun it back up to 75. You then repeat the same steps. Back and forth, back and forth...why in the hell do you do this?

Downstairs Guest/Former Neighbor: Ever since you came up to hear what I have to hear when you play your shitty music, (except for that night), you have not blared it out of the speakers. I thank you. I still hate you and that is why I glare at you every time I see you, but thank you. Please continue this behavior. Maybe one day I'll stop glaring and just ignore your presence. Yes, that is a huge step.

Cold Germs: Please leave me the fuck alone. It's one thing to walk around my house all day with Kleenex shoved up my nose because you refuse to stop dripping from it but I can't do that at work. Instead I get to sound like a 5 year old with my constant sniffing and sneezing. You make me feel like shit and I don't like you. I can't touch my cats, I can't feel my face, I'm hot and I've gone through an entire roll of toilet paper in one day because you attacked me, UNwarranted! Go fuck with the downstairs asshole.

Readers: Thank you for stopping by. I pulled this post straight out of my ass. I wasn't even going to write today. I came by my own site to read other journals and blogs and saw that I hadn't posted here in awhile. I thought, "Wow, I really should come up with something soon. Maybe I'll just write something to tell them I'm still alive." Then this crap came pouring out. I blame my illness. It's the cold's fault. KILL the cold!

Bed: I'm sorry for ignoring you. There you are, all cushioney and soft, beckoning me..."Get in to me..you will feel so much better. I will soothe your aching muscles and my clothes of down will cool your hot skin. Close your eyes, relax and let me take care of you." But I have fought off your advances choosing to give Computer far more quality time than it really deserves. I'm sorry Bed, I'm coming.

Computer: I didn't really mean what I said to Bed about you not being deserving of my undivided attention. I love you, Computer. I'm so happy that we are friends.

Death: Fuck off. You can't have me yet. Tell Cold to step off and fuck with someone else. Pissant bitches!

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 10:16 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

January 19, 2006

On My Last Nerve, They Are

I have fucking had it with those bastards who live downstairs from me. They are pissing me off to no end. I endured their bullshit for months on end before I said word one to the rental agency/landlord.

One would think that if you pissed off a neighbor so bad that half of you got your ass kicked out of your dwelling, (yes, they had too many people in that apartment, three more than were allowed there and when I said something to the agency, those three got booted), you would learn to be a fucking decent neighbor and stop acting like douchebags every other day.

But these jackoffs learn nothing. I have had to go down and ask them to turn their shitty music down more times than I care to count. Tonight I am cleaning my house, almost done and just about to get ready to relax and unwind when I'm bombarded by

Boom BOOM Boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM Boom BOOM Boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOMBoom BOOM Boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOMBoom BOOM Boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOMBoom BOOM Boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOMBoom BOOM Boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOMBoom BOOM Boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM boom

Hell fucking no. So I go down there and knock on their door. First of all, they don't speak any fucking English except the little kid. Learning from the past, I don't even try to communicate with the adults, I just request the little kid. I said, 'nino' and they act like they don't know what I'm saying. Dicks, I know your stupid asses speak Spanish now bring the boy.

Boy comes to the door and I tell him that I would like them to turn the music down. I ask him why are they always so loud, I'm a quiet neighbor, why do they disrespect? He translates and the mom comes to the door, screaming in Spanish. Bitch, I don't speak that ugly fucking language.

Through translation I am told that it's one of the fuckweasels birthday, (which I think is a fucking lie because every damn time I have to confront these assholes it's some sort of celebration, they tell me) and that I need to have more understanding. I told the lady I don't really care if it's someone's birthday, the music is loud. And as I'm saying this, I am standing there wondering, why...WHY on God's green earth, if this is a celebration with all these people, is she coming to the door in her fucking green underwear?

The bitch didn't have any pants on! She came to the door in a tank top and underwear! Guys, don't even bother getting turned on, the hag is like 40-50 years old, haggard looking, ugly as hell and wearing nasty, faded, green underwear. How fucking ghetto can one get?

She then asks some other lady, a little old lady who bothers no one and likes to sit out front and smoke cigarettes, if she can hear the music or thinks it's too loud. Ok, first of all, you can't hear the fucking music outside, you can HEAR IT in my apartment!

They insist that the music isn't loud so I invite them to come to my apartment and take a good listen. At first they refuse. Oh? Why not? Hmm? Cause maybe I'M FUCKING RIGHT! They continue to insist that it's not loud and I tell them again to come up and listen so finally one of the guys and the boy come up.

They come in, I close the door and allow them to listen. Yep, they ADMIT IT! They fucking admit that it IS loud! I ask again to turn it down and thank the little boy for translating for me. (Poor kid always gets caught up in the middle since the rest of them refuse to learn English.)

They go downstairs and I wait. Do they turn it down? No. Hell no. Not only have they not turned it down, NOW I also get to listen to them thump and bang around their apartment. Because they are ALL crack whore monkeys! So, I guess the next time I go to pay my rent, I'll let the agency/landlord know that while those three may not be actually "reside" in the apartment, they come over all the time and every single damn time they do, I get to listen to their shit. I will tell them that I invited them to come take a listen and they conceded that it is, indeed, loud. That even though they admitted this, they refused to turn it down. That I am sick of having to deal with this crap and that it says in the lease that "guests", which is what they are now, are not to disturb the tenants who pay rent to live there.

Who knows...maybe they will all get the boot. If there is a God, they will and I can finally have some fucking peace and quiet. That is, aside from the incessent horn honking and bass blarers in their cars as they sit at the stop light outside my building.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 08:15 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

January 12, 2006

When One Door Closes, Another Door Breaks

Well since no one seems to be visiting the site I can talk about any old boring shit I feel like. So let's talk about my car! Whee!

As you may remember, (you=empty space since no one is actually here reading), I had to get some big ass repairs done on the car lately. I got most of them done, (will get the other important thing done in February), and excitedly drove my car out of the Service Department's garage. Yay!

Not yay. As soon as I pulled out into the street I noticed a hell of a lot of noise coming out from underneath my steering wheel area. My car sounded like a wind up toy..I could hear every bit of engine noise that car made. Needless to say, I was less than pleased. I could not turn around immediately because I had to get to work. I had already missed four hours of work over the days because of this car so I vowed to have it back in there on my next day off.

Ok, so I didn't do it yesterday because I was lazy after working 8 days in a row and I had a lot of crap to do, (your house becomes a fricken mess when you work too many days in a row...word to the wise), so I didn't particularly feel like getting up to go sit in a waiting room all day long.

I told myself last night, as I was laying down to sleep that I would get up and do it this morning. I made a list of all the things I had to do today and that was the second thing.

I woke up this morning, lazy as all hell, and said, "I don't feel like doing it. I'll do it next week." See, one major thing I had to do was spend a good few hours at the laundromat since the washer and dryer in this building broke and the landlords seem in no hurry to fix it. I had about three weeks of clothing in DIRE need of cleaning and I could not put this off any longer. I decided that my big task of the day would be to get the clothes washed and then I was coming home and relaxing. End of discussion.

I got my car, pulled it around to the front of the building to load the mountain of laundry into it and drove off to the laundromat. I got to the 'mat and was quite happy with myself for making it this far. Getting there is half the battle with me. I'm fucking lazy.

I go to open my trunk...the bitch won't open. What the fuck. I just had the damn thing open when I put the clothes in there! The car has no trunk release, it is operated by key and key alone and that key was NOT opening the trunk. The trunk with all my work clothes in it. ALL my work clothes.

Desperate I jetted over to the nearest mechanic at a gas station and watched him do everything I had already done only to be told I had to go to a locksmith. Whatever. Irritated beyond words that this simple fucking task of doing my laundry was taking more time out of my day than necessary, (already annoyed that I couldn't use the washer and dryer in my own building), I angrily drove to the Service Department a good half an hour away.

I arrived just in time for everyone to go to lunch. I was told I would have to wait about 2 hours for everyone to come back. Jesus! I asked if someone could at least just open the dang trunk so I could do my dang laundry. A mechanic came over and said that what they would have to do is climb in to the back of the car to be able to open the trunk and that would cost me $135. Yah, like I have ANY money left after the repairs I just had done.

But it hit me..."climb in to the back of the trunk? How would they do that?" Ok, so, remember I said I had just worked 8 days in a row? SO I was tired and not thinking clearly. Alright? Back off! DUH! Pull the back seat down! Wah-la! Trunk exposed! Major sigh of relief that I would not have to show up for work tomorrow in either my grungy day off wear or my pajamas, I thanked them.

Right at that time my regular Service lady walked by and set up for a mechanic to fix the noise in my car that was a direct result of some of the repairs they made. Apparenlty some rubber thing had slipped down the something (that's all I heard, "blah blah blah, rubber blah blah slipped down blah blah take two seconds to fix") and the mechanic admitted he might not have put it back on correctly. So he fixed it and I was charged nothing.

My car sounds really good now. Rides a lot smoother too! In February, it will ride even better when I get the last of the work done. ANYWAY, so I finally got back to my side of town and got that fucking laundry done at LONG last.

I was feeling so good about getting so much accomplished today, (including cleaning my house), that I even folded and put away the laundry. I KNOW!

So, the trunk lock is broken and I have to get that fixed but it's not something I need to do right now. And, also, plus, the Service lady I schedule things with gave me her cell number so that I could have her boyfriend, one of the mechanics, fix the thing for me. She said he charges half what the dealer charges. Now I know she's probably not supposed to do that but do you think I' going to report her for saving me money? HELL no.

I would list everything I did today but that would even be too boring for me. Just know that I did a lot and I rewarded myself with a nice chocolate milk. I deserved it.

Now, either start commenting and showing a little love around here or I can write even more boring posts in the future. It's your own damn faults.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 10:09 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack

January 05, 2006

They Think I'm Weird

Sometimes the every day, normal things we do crack me up. As this world gets more angry, bitter and impatient with each other, I find joy in some of our daily actions where we have an unspoken co-operation. We will be rude to each other on the phone, on the road, in the store, all over the place but for some reason, when we get on to an elevator, we immediately remember our manners.

The whole process of elevator riding makes me laugh. We start off with a group of people needing to go to various floors in the building. Now, there are two types of people in this group. The first type are the ones who will walk up to the banks of elevators, see that the button has already been pushed and will stand back and wait for the next available car. The second type are the ones who will walk up to the banks of elevators, determine quietly that everyone standing there waiting are obvious idiots who are in desperate need of guidance and will push the call button that is already lit up. Either that or they think they can fool the elevator car into thinking there are a really lot of people waiting and by pushing the button again, it will cause the car to come faster.

Call Button: Ding!

Elevator: Hum de dum. I'm being called to the Lobby. Yawn...guess I'll work my way down there.

Call Button: Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Elevator: Oh shit! There's a crap load of people waiting! I better hurry lest I lose my job!

When the car arrives and the doors open, we again split into groups of people. The first group is the type who stands back and waits for anyone already on the elevator to exit so that they can get on. The other group is the type who barges in, pushing and shoving past those trying to get off for reasons I have yet to figure out.

The first person on the elevator will immediately take up their position by the floor panel. This is inevitable. It happens without fail. They will push their desired floor selection and then wait for requests.

The reason this cracks me up is because it is like an unspoken rule that whomever is by the floor panel has now become Floor Monitor and takes direction from everyone else in the car. As others board, they will announce their desired floor and Floor Monitor happily presses buttons and looks questioningly at new riders as they board. Those who have already spoken their destination get comfortable after confirming their request has been fulfilled and wait.

Floor Monitor does one final sweep with their eyes to all the passengers as the doors close and then everyone falls silent, waiting for the ride to begin. Occasionally small talk is made by a few passengers but as a general rule, most people try to look preoccupied with other business, some taking a deep interest in the writing on the emergency panel while others stare at the number screen as the car rises.

As each person reaches their destination, more manners ensue as people politely step out of the way, some bid each other a good day and others, who have accidentally made eye contact with anyone else, will give a small smile and a nod.

Today, as I was first person on the elevator and then promoted to Floor Monitor, I found myself thinking what it would be like to throw a monkey wrench into the entire process. As people got on after me announcing their desired floors, I thought to myself, “What would they do if I just stood here and did not press the floor they wanted? Or, what would they do if they told me floor 34 and I pressed floor 26? What kind of chaos would this bring? What if I refused to step aside politely as someone tried to exit the elevator? What if, instead of facing forward today, I decided to face the back of the elevator? What if, the next time I got onto an elevator and I was not the first person, I refused to inform Floor Monitor of my destination, rather, just climbed on and stared at them blankly as they gave me the questioning look? What if I just started talking to everyone on the elevator about any random subject? What if I just kept chattering on and on even if no one responded to me?”

That’s when I started laughing. No one on the elevator knows what I’m thinking, all they see is me, Floor Monitor, trying very hard to suppress my laughter and failing miserably after they announced, “Two, please”. I recognized how it looked and imagined it in my mind from their angle. This of course only made me laugh that much harder. Perhaps I already accomplished my goal of throwing a monkey wrench into the whole thing today by looking insane.

Sometimes we just have to enjoy the little things in life.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at 12:48 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack