“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard: December 12, 2004

Saturday, December 18, 2004

The X-Box Live Exploits of DARTH FORD!

SNOT NOSED KID: Darth Ford isn't shit without that rocket launcher! You suck Darth Ford!

DARTH FORD: Tell you what, you can say I suck when your pubes grow in.

SNOT NOSED KID: Well I will! I know your number 'cause I know your Mom!

DARTH FORD: Great, so I should tell her to expect your call in about five years then?

SNOT NOSED KID: Yeah, well, I got some now, and I uh... You suck!

Thus continues my quest to spread love on X-Box Live. Join me, won't you?

Friday, December 17, 2004

Allright guys, I finally signed up for a two month free trial of X-Box live.

My screen name is DARTH FORD.

Come get some.

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.
'I don't much care where --' said Alice.
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
'--so long as I get somewhere,' Alice added as an explanation.

~ Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Doesn't matter which way I go indeed, the direction is always down the shitter.

So here's the last few days for you.

I've been feeling like crap and I had what I thought was pinkeye. I've got a dry-eye condition and I occasionally get a little scratch in the dryer winter weather.

So I'm using the medication I had left over from the last time, which was probably two years ago or more, and come Sunday it was great. Well on Monday it was back. It was red, itchy and I couldn't stand light. My eyes are pretty photophobic even under the best conditions.

This went on for more than a week. Had my caseworker not cancelled my appointment I was going to show it to the doctor at the clinic for free. So I figured I'd get another appointment later.

Well today I woke up at about noon, but since the last time my eye showed improvement was after 12 hours of sleep I stayed in bed till 4. You know, better to be safe.

So I go to finally get up and I can't open my left eye.

Its stuck shut.

After I peel it open I go to the bathroom mirror and it's a deep purplish red. My eye, not the mirror. Anyways, I can barely see out of it. I call the DHHR, they're closed. I call the Clinic, they're closed.

But Gage is here, so I get him to drive me to the Pharmacy (driving was completely out of the question for me at this point) where my cousin Larry works to get some pink eye medication.

Larry takes one look at my eye and tells me the homeopathic bullshit medication they had wouldn't cut it, I needed a doctor.

Now I'm not someone that avoids the doctor out of fear of what they're going to say, and I'm not the kind of guy that avoids the doctor out of modesty, (You spend a month in the hospital with groups of med students coming in every hour and looking under your gown and see what kind of modesty YOU end up with.) I'm the kind of guy that avoids the doctor because I'm flat fucking broke.

So since the deposit I made into my bank account on Saturday morning cleared this morning, giving me a bit of cash, I decided I had no choice but to go to the doctor.

I went to this little place that was open late. The doctor looked me over and said it's a bacterial infection and it's in my left eye (I'd figured that much out on my own), my throat, my sinuses and my ears. Every hole in my head except my right eye socket is infected with God knows what.

They give me a prescription, charge me $72 and send me out the door.

So I go back to Larry and get my prescription filled.

Ten days worth of pills, the generic version of the drug, $100.99

Yeah, my ass was a little sore after that, but you know, I took one pill a few hours ago and I feel great. That's pretty much where my life is at right now. I don't know how bad I feel till I get ass-raped over some pills and feel marginally better.

You'd think I'd be suicidaly depressed given the state my life is in overall, but I'm not. In fact, I'm actually amused by all of this in a sick way. Why sometimes I just start laughing for no reason at all and I just laugh and laugh and laugh till I start crying and then I do both at the same time till I pass out.

Insanity does have its benefits.

Speaking of laughing, Nate's supervisor the Master Chief asked me to print up a copy of my last post to bring in when I come to pick Nate up. She said she'd look up the blog on the net but Mr. Wee has forbidden the use of the office computer for personal business and she doesn't have a computer at home.

Well, she is a buckeye after all.

Fun Fact!: Buckeye is a playfully derogatory term used by those living around Ohio to refer to those people who live IN Ohio!

Well a quick scroll down will reveal the fact that I was somewhat critical of the Crapoli's management team, in particular Mr. Wee whom I believe I referred to as "a thoroughly loathsome bag of shit that’s been roughly pounded into the shape of a human being".

Given this I figured that hand delivering a copy of this post to Nate's place of employment, where it's not totally inconceivable that Mr. Wee might find it, might not be the best idea.

So I did it.

Sometimes you have to create your own fun, you know?

Which reminds me, the reason Pee Wee has given for insisting that the phone operators continue to say 'Merry Christmas' even though people have complained is that, according to the news show he watched, something like 18% of Americans boycot businesses that don't say 'Merry Christmas'.

Now I'd like to point out that Crapoli's food is pretty much shit. In fact, one recent order had to be retrieved by the delivery guy because the purchaser discovered what she thought was mouse shit in her sandwich.

What does mouse shit look like? Like rat shit, only smaller. (Rim-shot, Thank you!)

What's really fucked up is the woman wanted the food REPLACED. If I found suspected shit of any sort in my food I'd be getting a refund, but hey, that's just me I guess.

So the delivery guy gets the food back to the restaurant and niether he nor the management can determine if the mystery substance is or is not rodent feces.

Now I ask you, with customers that will order food from the restaurant that just brought them food with shit in it do you think it really matters what the fuck you say when you answer the goddamn phone?

I swear to God I live in the fucking Twilight Zone.