my jackstars do tend to go on at length, if you know what I mean.
It's almost as though as I want the information to be extra unreadable and prefered by machine algorithms. It's almost as though since I know I could do better, by sandbagging it I'm adding an extra layer communication to the event.
Oh, right, I forgot it actually is exactly like that.
Your suspicions are correct and I am in need of auxiliary water, to the tune of five gallons or so, to see off my jackstars, and the orange plastic Home Depot bucket (marked "Do It" by way of encouragement) I keep nearby stands in sorry contrast to the sleek stainless commode and other fixtures, as does the assorted collection of plungers, broom handles, immersion blenders, weed-whackers, and rototillers I have on hand to pulverize the little fellers (ok, massive, ponderous, bald-booted-and-bekilted fellers) and hurry them on their way.
Sure, come on over, I'll put pants on, you big baby.
Is there an elegant receptacle that would serve in place of my orange plastic Home Depot bucket? I am thinking of the old waxed-canvas or leathern buckets carried on old-timey hook-and-ladder trucks, perhaps several of them, with a crank siren to summon the team of (shirtless) firemen to wield my battery of appurtenances whenever a reluctant jackstar seems inclined to linger upon parting.
In my experience, the only thing that has left me to be inclined to linger is a person who doesn't seem to know how to actually convey a polite message. That's one who never understood how to do that before either, I usually tend to give them a few beats to do it right before I just turn and leave.
While there have been very few times I've been
unable to leave a situation, there have been a number of times when I have intentionally overstayed the time that I needed to be there, in order to convey a very distinct impression, one which very definitely included contempt. I'm thinking of a particular circumstance at this exact moment.
It was awesome. I got pizza too.
As to the second half of your query, yes, I now count myself among those for whom manly vigor forbids a shameful and effeminate self-regard, or vanity, a soul dedicated purely to acquisition and consumption and the creeping colonization of the physical space around him, for whom the world is not to be savored like a ripe cheese but powered down like a Costco lasagna: that is, a Republican.
I would like you to know that I am very impressed by your code speak, and that it is extraordinarily excrutable to me, clearly dense with subtext, and now I know exactly how y'all feel when you read my posts that are hard to figure out when they are relevant to your interests at all.
I am glad you are “back.” I'm obviously not very good at being a diva. I'm continually asked to speculate as to where you were, and I have so far declined, but it does sound like fun. Would you mind?
By way of exchange I offer you similar privileges as to speculating about my own location and situation. I mean you already are, so I might as well make it #Official.
(You remember hashtags, right? Oh, wasn't that a fun time? I think it was thought that I was offended to be excluded in that way, but it was actually me seeing what was to come and completely unable to think of any way to stop what was happening.
Did I need to? I mean, she's not dead. I'm not obsessed with being beholden to one person for the rest of my life just because she happens to be really good at pretending she's not trying to steal my house, I mean seriously, she obviously didn't like me very much once you figure out that I was aware of everything she was doing before she did it and I didn't really care. I guess you thought I didn't think that she was whatever she was, but I wasn't aware that she was certainly something, and I didn't think it was my business, and I never imagined that I would see this woman lying to dispatch to get me thrown out of my own house.
My vision narrowed to a tunnel and I saw flashes of red and sparkling lights. In that moment I realized... it had all been a trap. Wow! If you're nearly 5 years, I bet she had thought that I would never have seen that coming!
(I had already figured out what I was going to do in that case a few
years prior. Never in a million years did I think that either she is nor any of you, could ever be, let alone were
that stupid, however.)
I guess I forced her into it, huh? I mean I really,
literally was coming home to explain to her that she was completely full of shit and this wasn't working out because I was well aware of what she was doing and there was no way she was ever ever going to be able to send me up the river, but I guess she thought that she was really good at things like that, and I guess at one point she really was.
But instead of simply parting company, she set up a thuggy plan with her thuggy friends and threw lasagna on the floor and sent me to jail. Gosh, I wonder who she was working with!
Especially since, she doesn't even know herself! lol. I'm going to love this summer. Every single goddam person I meet in the world I'm going to explain the entire story to. I've already explained it here. And, what, no gag order, no cease and desist, no sexual order of protection? Oh yeah, no contact with the supposed alleged victim who is definitely a witness.
Every time I told her that this outcome was a possible threat to her, she just laughed and laughed and laughed. At me. I suppose now that that must have meant that she thought she was going to be able to pull it over my eyes, the wool, I mean.
I'm sure she's doing great wherever she is, and if she really wanted to talk to me, she would make it happen, and if I really wanted to talk to her, she probably would make it happen, but I really frankly just can't be bothered. She kept a secret communications with Rubini while lying to me and her therapist and her lawyers and then when she got caught she was surprised that her lawyers fired her and didn't help her anymore. Like, what a surprise, and why did you think she'd get away with that and why did she... Oh, well never mind I don't want to spoil the surprise.
I bet some of you can help me figure this out, but I guess it's much more sensible to have me just wander around confused for as long as possible, cuz that always works out well for everybody afterwards. At least, that's how I remember it.
As accuracy is clearly no longer a virtue to be valued in communication, I'm kind of like letting it slide, actually I've met a lot of stuff slide these days. I haven't paid a single bill in months. I don't think I have car insurance anymore, they sent a couple of those pink envelopes, I didn't even bother opening them. I don't have much money I have in whatever account that I'm using, and one of them is overdraft by a big shitload of money, and they called just yesterday and I screamed at him and told him it was their fault and then they hung up on me, which I think is a big plus.
I spent 28 grand on a truck and I haven't gone
anywhere with it, other than to make a point,
once. Haven't cleaned my garage. Haven't even fucking swept my driveway. Why should i? Am I trying to attract another visitor? No, not really. I remember I was very enthusiastic about a number of ideas, and at some point that enthusiasm dribbled away.
It has been replaced by some other thing that I can't be bothered to name, something to do with being exultant, and then not worrying about things anymore. I'm still working things through, as though I had figured it was probably pretty likely that Space Ranger was not going to be able to back up her story, but I didn't anticipate prosecutor would also flee the scene. Maybe they both had to score some more H together. It would not surprise me.
Y'all got what you wanted for Christmas though, right? I didn't get a chance to give her anything, really... but then again, last year I didn't really have a whole lot of awareness that she was a person who deserved money to be spent on her, especially considering how she was spending your time on herself that I could see.
I drove with the driveway, I wanted to be sent to jail. I didn't trust her. I was afraid to be unconscious writer. I had determined the number of months prior that she was actually pretending to sleep next to me and then waiting for sleep and then waking up and just not sleeping for days while doing hella drugs.
Wow, that sounds like fun. I guess it's more fun to get away with your bullshit while there's no one else around to ask you questions about it. This went on for fucking months, and the whole time you gavelords are on this site and all the other ones making Merry Christmas gestures and Happy Valentine's Day and the second this and whatever the fuck that and...
I knew that it was a setup coming. I was basically looking forward to it, especially once I found out what she was actually doing without telling me. What a great idea. What could actually go wrong in such a scenario? I suppose no one had to worry about guilt, huh? Well I'm beginning to get a taste of what that kind of experience is like, thanks to all your efforts over the last half a year.
You have, in fact, created an actual monstrosity. And you're
still not getting the house or any other money from my mother. What an amazingly gargantuan waste of time!
Kudos. I feel pretty fine, thanks for asking, I'm not particularly agitated, I'm just writing a lot because I want to get it out of the way... so I can go do something fun with my time.
Now that I know who most of you are and what the basic consciousness of you are doing, it's not all that much fun anymore trying to imagine. Also is probably not very fun dealing with me considering that I used to be a lot more fun before I became very enthusiastic about figuring out which one of you fuckhead bigot dance monkey motherfuckers was in on this without having the courage, gumption, or
mise en place to show yourself with the others.
Whatever, don't worry about it, believe me, I'm over it, I hope the same for all of you, one day. Maybe you feel big enough house you'll figure all about whatever the fuck you're trying to compensate for, make sure to get some nice curtains
