Good morning from the utterly disgusting barren wasteland.
All the ships at Treasure Island, are lit up. Christmas must be coming.
Last night coming home from work some overly creepy guy was in the lot across the street. He was looking for something and then Miso came bounding out of the lot and ran across the street to me. The creep took off after that. You do realize I value the lives of animals more than humans, right? Something everyone should keep in mind. The day society returns to being sophisticated and civilized, is the day I’ll value humans more. Until then...
Karma! Hurt an animal, regardless of the circumstance, the universe will return in kind to you or someone you love. I promise. And there’s a lot of Karma going around, isn’t there? Rhetorical question. Americans know how to commit violence and murder each other. We’re good at it. PURGE!!
And then today
I pulled out yet another shirt from my closet that mysteriously has tiny holes poked in it. That’s the third shirt I found with holes poked in it. When I’m not home my shirts and other household items get holes poked into them. Usually, among other things, someone just turns on my lights and leaves them on. Renting is fun.
I’ve been sitting on my front stoop for the last five minutes, waiting to see if the stray cat wants to eat before I got to work, just watching all the hobos and junkies.
They’re repaving the the parking lots around my apartment building. Don’t spend any money getting rid of the homeless people who use the front yard as their bathrooms, or the junkies who try breaking into our security gates every month, nope, just slap a phony ridiculous security sticker on the door, because there’s nothing junkies like more than reading small print on stickers and following instructions. Nope. Instead just repave the parking lot. I had a roommate once, who one month paid the cable bill but not the electric bill. He used the money we gave him for all the bills to take out some girl, alas had the presence of mind to pay the cable bill with the money he had left over after his date rather than the electric bill. Smart. He figured it out after DWP shut off our electricity.
I had to attend a 5am work meeting this morning. And the meeting was about... wait for it... it was about coming to work on time and doing the job you were hired to do. Yes, people. There was a meeting for that. Took an hour. Why is it so hard for some people? If you were hired to do a job, you come to work when you’re scheduled, you do the job you were hired to do, agreed to do, and then leave at the end of the day. And yet so many people can not grasp this concept. It was a mandatory meeting. Everyone had to go so no one felt singled out. So no one’s feelings got hurt.
🙄
The reason why good help is hard to find is because incompetence is rewarded, and strong hard working employees get penalized for not carrying the weight of incompetence. God forbid incompetence get their feelings hurt by being fired for not doing the job they were hired to do. Dumb. It’s actually very hard to fire an employee just for being lazy and useless, but if you defend yourself from an attacker, you’re suspended and investigated, and then most likely fired. This is the world we live in.
The people who own the building beside the empty lot across the street from me, is in a property grudge match with their neighbors, and the homeless. The neighbors have something like a dozen vehicles and often times park two trucks in the empty lot. I have no idea who owns the lot. I assumed it was the owners of the apartment building. But for the last week there’s been an old mattress, and a silver car belonging to someone from the apartment building, in the two spaces where the neighbors used to park their extra trucks.
Old mattresses are goldmines for the homeless. One homeless guy used to hide his filthy mattress in the bushes in front of my building which stopped lost drunk Fremont Street tourists from passing out there, but only for a little while. You know, standards. They much rather pass out on bum urine and dog poo than a rancid bug infested filthy mattress. But this particular mattress across the street has not moved in a week. I’m guessing neither the apartment building owners, or their neighbors want to move it, not without a crane anyway. It’s pretty brave someone actually parked their car so close to the mattress. But now the neighbors have no place to park their extra trucks. Strangest grudge match ever.
Maybe it’s a secret murder plot, like how the US government intentionally gave Native Americans diseased blankets as a more economic way to murder them in order to spare bullets. I mean what better way to murder someone quietly, right? Set out a contaminated mattress for the neighbors to move? Blame it on the homeless. It’s brilliant. — This is why Aramis does all the talking regarding business endeavors by the way. I’m not allowed to talk to anybody. I start ranting about the US government robbing, raping, and murdering Native Americans, which always results with people arguing, “What? That’s fiction! Let’s pay more taxes!”
Is there going to be a recession in 2021? Scary. Looks like it though, right? I’ll be 52 years old in 2021. That’s even more scary. Oh sure I’ll still look amazing. But... 52.
I never did buy that urn. Changed my mind at the last minute. I don’t want some online store bought conveyer belt made urn other people can purchase to ash eternal in. I want something unique. Like an antique spice box. My ex father-in-law hand carved a gorgeous little jewelry box with my initials on it as a wedding gift. If it were bigger I’d ash in there. Did I ever tell you about the short story I wrote about a group of 40/50 year old friends getting the ashes of their deceased childhood friend to his requested final resting place? It’s a dark comedy but I want it filmed like a Texas Chainsaw horror flick.
Did I tell you about the small lumps under the skin of my left forearm? I think they’re blocking off blood flow to my hand. My hand gets numb very fast when I bend my elbow. Then again my right hand has been getting numb rather quickly also when I bend my elbow with no lumps on the forearm. I do take a lot of Advil. I go through a bottle of 24 tablets a month. I’m in so much physical pain all the time. I hate, absolutely hate, walking up stairs and I live in a second floor walk-up. The joys of getting old. Buying tennis balls for my walker as I type this.
“But you look amazing. Great skin.”
I much rather look old and feel amazing, than look amazing and feel old. One day maybe you’ll understand.
It completely disgusts me when 20 and 30 year old guys hit on me. My interest in men age-wise is 50-70. Of course most single men in that age range need nurses to take care of them, meds, nappies, and anger management. No thank you. Still, I need men to be my age or older, not younger. I’m hard wired that way. Most of society is. It’s just one of those hypocrisies for the betterment of society. Have your artsy, online, behind closed doors fun. Fine. Regardless, men need to continue playing respectable masculine roles in society.
Whatever couples do in the bedroom, that’s entirely your business, but out in society we need men, who gender identify as men, to play respectable masculine roles to once more begin progressing healthy social development. Just as women, who in public gender identify as women, need not forget they are ladies when out in public. And in doing so, people of the world, I give you a cleaner, more livable civilization, once was.
I’d love to see this show but, nope.
Can’t do it. Not after the last free concert at Fremont Street. Blogged here: Head like a... hole?
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