my brain just threw up a little…

February 27, 2010

more sucking…

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 7:25 pm

yesterday was bad. today not much better. Woke up to either a throbbing headache or a ringing phone, not sure which. Got called in to work to unpile whatever was here. Poor girl who was waiting for me to get out of work last night could not get a hold of me on account of me forgetting my cell, and today she asked to tell her if I will be working abominably late. I snapped at her. I didn’t need to do that. Oh well. I’ll make ammends going down on her for an hour. (Colonel Angus, anyone?) I think work is under control. I am going to get this last bit done and I will be heading home. Hopefully to a content dog and some pills to make head and fever go away. I am thinking…. games, food and hot tea. And with any luck – the ammends.  AND SLEEP!

I guess it is a good thing that I did not drink last night. I would’ve been in a much worse shape today. On contrary, I would have a good and valid reason for the damn headache.

back to werk!

worst day since…

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 6:09 am

today was a rather shitty day for me to be at work. I stayed busy and have not accomplished a god damn thing aside from getting my workstation back to working order after more hours than I care to think about. And I forgot my damn phone at home. And I got so worked up about the retardedness of today that I forgot AGAIN to get to my chiropractors office.  I left leaving a pile of things for whoever comes in tomorrow and that makes me feel very much like shit. restoring my workstation was an endless fountain of fail and I had to get others involved to get this bitch to do what it needs to do. Thanks to Matt and Kamel for assist on that.

and now a dilemma – either start drinking now and see that my brain shuts up and lets go of the fail-mode, or eat something and go to sleep feeling like a steaming pile of shit and hope it is all better by morning.

February 25, 2010


Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 4:46 pm

Earlier this afternoon in a store, a large-ish woman of about 40-something, arguing with an elderly gentleman. I happened to walk in when I heard the following exchange:

Woman bellowing in despair: “I have kids, you know!”

Man, calm as a brick: “Yes, I have pets too…”

Woman stormed off, man shrugged, paid for his food and left. Cashier and I had a good laugh. Cashier looked pregnant.

February 21, 2010

shiny word blargh sploorgings on crunch… spell a fart please…

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 9:41 am


An onomatopoeia or onomatopœia, from the Greek ???????????? (????? for “name” and ????? for “I make”), is a word that imitates or suggests the source of the sound that it describes. Onomatopoeia (as anuncountable noun) refers to the property of such words. Common occurrences of onomatopoeias include animal noises, such as “oink” or “meow” or “roar”. Onomatopoeias are not universally the same across all languages; they conform to some extent to the broader linguistic system they are part of; hence the sound of a clock may be tick tock in English and tik tak in Dutch or tic-tac in French.


somehow different from ideophone.

just read that and see what spelling of a fart your brain will come up with.

February 11, 2010

Neil Gaiman’s short story bit

Filed under: commentary — Sol @ 8:22 pm

Trying to digest a short story by Neil Gaiman in which Lion and White Witch split the kids and Lion eats them. Susan gets almost entirely eaten except for the head, which lays there with dead open eyes unable to NOT watch Lion and White Witch have sex. And after they are done Lion eats Susan’s head, licks his chops and Witch rides off on the Lion…

February 8, 2010


Filed under: commentary — Sol @ 8:47 pm

maybe if you blow gummy shark you will be granted a kleenex to mop up some bitch off of your aging face?

February 7, 2010

aw… The What For

Filed under: commentary — Sol @ 10:47 pm

Aw… You have indeed lost your mind and are desperate enough to start cracking jokes at my expense. And when I reply to your supposed joke with a few easy to read and understand words (exact quote would be “shut the fuck up”),  you fail to interpret these simple four words, and proceeded with some asinine attempt at sarcasm. “Aw” indeed. It would only stand to reason that a neurotic, chronic liar, with a perpetual need to brighten up her drudge of an existence with some fake drama, drawing on peer sympathies won by pretending to be a victim would try doing this “last word” nonsense. Perhaps you were fishing for a confrontation? It would really make sense for you to do this. Think about it for a moment. If I get angry and proceed to bark at you, fling monkey style poo in your direction, throw insults and so on… I let myself  be seen by all of YOUR friends as this one seriously evil guy you have depicted me to be some time ago. I stand to gain nothing from it. But it occurs to me that you live a pretty comfortable life of lie and deceit among those you call friends. Ponder this, little Lady. You are living a lie. Your “friends” are around you not because they care, or ever gave a shit about anything that’s you. You are a female. They want what’s in your pants. In the end it is all you are good for, really. But even that is lacking, from what I heard. Worry not though, your game of lies have carried you so far, and it will carry you some more quite safely. It has to carry you further, now that you have power of Jesus on your side. That is cute, by the way. You got a best friend ever, a dead dude on a stick. Great choice! He is dead, he cares not. You can tell him anything you want, he will say nothing, and you can pretend that you heard a voice that told you that you are forgiven, or some such shit. I must say though, I am no Jesus. Neither am I dead, nor full of forgiveness.

Every person in my life starts with a blank slate. They write their deeds and story on this slate. Some have so much crap smeared on theirs, I just have to toss theirs out the window and keep moving.

What do I have on yours… lets see…

I let you stay at my place after you tell everyone that your husband has beaten you. I let you stay free of charge as a guest in my house. I asked for nothing in return. I acted in a rather gentleman-like fashion, seeing a damsel in distress. I allowed for you to bring in friends. I spotted you a few bucks here and there when you needed money for gas. I let you bring your children into my home when you needed to spend time with them. You had a room at your disposal. You had full use of facilities and computers. Nothing was off limits. THAT is how one should treat a guest. That is how one should treat a friend in need.

Unable to pay your way with labor, you have started to pay your way with what is known as the oldest trick in the book. Soon after you moved out and were on your own. Some few months later you called me, and asked to be let back in, and even offered to throw some money in to help with bills. You paid once. For a three months stay. Once. The second time I gave some of that money back to you right away so you could spend it on “medication for the kid”… I know you lied about that because you were driving out of town every night to spend time with your new friend. Again, unable to pay your way with coin, you started paying your way with what little your friend Jesus gave you, and with whatever coin you saved by not keeping your end of the agreement with me.

Then came the dog. I like dogs. Everyone knows that I like dogs. Dogs are better than people, indeed. After not paying for two months you brought a puppy into my house, without as much as asking my permission. Most any landlord would have you thrown out in under 30 days, and have the dog picked up by the Animal Control inside an hour. But landlord I am not. I am a humble home owner, and a gentleman. I will not throw out a friend who needs shelter, and I will not throw out a dog. That is called “having a heart.” You have calculated on me not throwing the dog out, and you have calculated on me either A) getting all soft and mushy over the dog and not saying anything to you and avoiding any confrontations, or B) just being a plain old softy I am known to be, and not saying anything to you, again to avoid any confrontations. I believe THAT is called “using your friends,” or “being a calculative USER,” or “taking advantage of those helping you.” But who am I to judge, being a non-confrontational softy and all, right?

Because it wasn’t me, it was YOU throwing a very cheap (and rather timely) drama feat in the end of it all, acting as if you were wronged a great deal, and being an all around victim. Yes, I did say “timely” because you were ready to play out that little part of “being a victim” which you have perfected rather well in your lifetime. You were ready to move in with your new very cool friend, it is just that his Inner Gentleman needed a good motivation to hop up and act the part by offering his home in which you could “play house.” Aw… I just love using the quotes, they relay so very much. So you threw your drama feat to skip out of paying some measly $200 and to get free help moving to your new dwelling.  That was not a good thing to do to someone who was being super nice to you in the time of need. I can think of at least one guy who would agree with me… oh wait… he is a bit preoccupied, hanging on a stick right now. I’d bet he thinks something along the lines of “what a conniving little bitch… who would have her for a friend… wow…” And it doesn’t even occur to him, that you think that you and Jesus are buddies and pals and whatnot. You must really be thinking he is a big old softy.

And so some of your so-called friends (please help yourself to a “friends and your pants” quote and insert it someplace here) begged me not to throw you out the same night. I am aware of your harbored misconception about guest removal protocol used by ELPD. Allow me to enlighten you, it is really quite charming. I make a phonecall. A squad car appears. I explain nature of my complaint. Police contacts the City to establish list of occupants at this address. My name is on the deed. I am the owner. There is no leasing agreement. Police calls movers. I point to what’s not mine. Movers make it go away. You get to talk with police as you are escorted off the premises. You get to handle the stow fees and movers fees. I get to enjoy my peaceful existence, you get to bugger off and deal with your life.

So this one person who really acted in your interest begged me to not do that and did everything in her power to make sure that you do not get dragged out by cops. I did her a favor. You had your extra two days to get your belongings out of my house. Speaking of filth! Your dog crapped on my floor. I asked you to clean up after your dog. You have dodged my request. And looking back, I have to tell you this: I am not going to ignore you and let you live in your little world with your lies and your fake friends and you victimized dramatics because you have left that dog shit there. That was a very bad thing to do. A very bad thing indeed.

You have soiled your clean blank slate with insidious lies, treachery, and deceit. You have abused my trust, and trust of those around you. Your lies ended up costing many people more that a few measly dollars could replace. You are not a good person. You thrive on bullshit drama you create and, frankly, everyone around you would have been better if you weren’t sticking around. I cannot speak for everyone though! All this is, is my expressed opinion. I think you really need to start paying for your life with something other than your crotch and looks. You make a lot of other honest women look bad. You have but your looks and zero talent. You are through. Your tablet is an old history, and all you are is but a memory of some exemplary deviousness and low character all around. You lose.


To those two male “friends”… really guys? You sell me down the river by clearly taking sides, you tell me to my face that you are NOT taking sides, you act like you DO take sides…. and then you try to friend me on facebook when you find out that I am now friends with a girl you are “friends” with?! Are you trying to be rude?

get your money back

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 2:43 pm

suffering from a terrible herpes inflammation. rushed to the hospital last night with horrible bleeding from underside of penis. they are thinking amputation or something. and then this little pixie like nurse rolls in and says something along the lines of “Praise Lord Jesus! you will be healed!” And everyone turned to look, when she grinned coyly and said “for a mere two hundred dollars”… and then some guy in the white diaper looked up and her and said “bitch, they tore my ass because you LIED about me!” and then morphine kicked in and everything swirled away as if getting flushed through cosmos and endless bullshit. The Nurse with child-like hands, the screaming herpes ridden retard, the pig-faced squealer nursing a pig-faced squealer, a psychotic vagina-carrier with thyroid problems, and everything they have squeezed out of their flopping skins, all gets flushed and gone into some abyss that dares not to stare for it lives on fear and its entertainment is confrontation edging fear and legality.
And all that’s left to do is…
get your money back.

February 4, 2010


Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 7:19 pm

I was standing outside a corral with a fairly large wild boar rubbing against the shaky wire wall right next to my legs. Boar was very interested in the contents of a paper bag I was holding up in my left hand. Brown paper bag emanated scents of pears, apples, and carrots. Piggy’s round expressionless eyes were looking around the ground littered with pine needles and hay, but his nose was well aimed at the bag. Every few seconds or so I would reach into the bag and my hand would come up with a bit of much desired snack. Snack would take it’s last daylight trip to the dirt in front of the piggy. Next time this snack would see daylight, it would be quite different.

Last bit of apple. I braved reaching down to try handing it to piggy. It was indeed a brave and also a foolish move. Bristles faintly brushed against my forearm as I yanked my hand out of the corral before piggy ripped into my flesh. With the faint adrenalin rush I noted this moment and remembered this lifes simple truth – “it is still a fucking boar, duh!”

(summer job at the zoo)

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