Sunday, July 30, 2006

Pics of my significant others

Finally!!! Picture download!!!! This is a picture of my handsome son and beautiful animals. Molly shaking Devin's hand. Snowball sleeping at my feet under the computer desk. (Need to clean those baseboards under the desk). Bogart waiting for his food. Snowball sitting next to Devin while he is on his computer. Molly looking a little annoyed for some reason.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Two Stories for Zilla

Warning...This is grody, grody, gross.

It was my first year working telecommunications for residential service. It was very busy. My headset just quit on me. I have to log out of the phone. This threw up a red flag to my supervisor. We needed all people on the phone.

I worked nights; no access to the storage closet. I needed a headset. My supervisor suggested, " Why don't you use, Tammy's headset. She's not working tonight." I didn't think a thing about it. I said, " Sure".

The next day my ear was hurting. Still didn't think anything of it. The next day, my ear was really sore. There was a frapping zit in my ear canal. I could't get to it. The following day it was so swollen, I couldn't hear out of my zit ear. I had to go to the doctor's and have the monster lanced.

The moral of the story. Do not ever use anybodies headset! God only knows what kind of DNA and cooties are floating around on the sombitch! End of

Dumpster Diving

The other night it was semi-cool outside. I thought, maybe I should take the dog for a walk.... Nah, I'm gonna blog instead. I read Zilla's post and it suggested excersise. Oh, the power of suggestion...

I was walking the dog past a neighbor's house. They had some of the nicest things on the curb. I could not help myself, I was drawn to it. There was a tent, a sleeping bag, two very nice coolers, and a pet taxi. I have never dumpster dived in my life. Surely they had it sitting there to load up in their truck to go camping. Went up, knocked on the door. They told me they had cleaned out their shed and wanted to get rid of it. They thought if they put it out on the curb, someone may want it. I was all over it. I walked home faster than I've ever walked. Grabbed the car, went, and loaded up the trunk.

I gave the tent and sleeping bag to my son. Devin was so excited, we washed the sleeping bag, set up the tent, and camped out in the back yard. Yes, me, Devin, and the dog. It was great!

Thanks Zilla!

Friday, July 28, 2006

Needed to burn another vacation day today...

I woke up this morning. I drag my ass out of bed, brew some coffee, and let my dog out. My neck and shoulders ache. I feel a bit foggy. Okay, I'm not feeling it today. As my younger sister would say, “I'm sick and I'm old”. Yes, that's how I feel.

I call into work to see if any vacation days are available... Eureka, there is one! Give it to me, give it to me! Yeah, I got it!

I can hardly stand my job most days. I work in telecommunications in large business, or as my company would say, “The world wide customer service center”. Yes, they selected 30 people out of our center to be on-line reps taking non-stop calls for customer service.
“Thank you for calling blah blah blah Worldwide customer service center, this is Becky blah blah blah, how may I help you today?”

Customer...”I am the telecommunication technician at blah blah blah Incorporated. I have a T.1 circuit, it comes into my building from the the d-marc, through the PBX. I need to know how to configure my equipment to have the 24 channels route to my , PRI lines, my BRI lines, my ISDN lines, and my DID's.”

Me thinking....”What the fuck are you talking about!!?? Don't you have a billing question? I handle billing for God's sake. If you are a fucking techy, why don't YOU know how to do this?
My response, “ Why yes, I CAN assist you with that. May I get some information from you. Your name, your can be reached number, and account number?”

Customer... “Well I don't know my account number, can't you look it up by the name of the company? It's a business account.”

Me thinking... "Of course it's a business account you idiot. Fuck no, I can't! You are a large business! Don't you even know the account number you're calling in about? I have thirty-one different systems, offer 8 different kinds of business service, and you don't know!!!!”

My response...”I would need more information. Many corporations have several accounts under the same name.. Do you know the main phone number associated with your account and CAN cross reference it.”

Customer...” I'm a technician, I don't have access to that information. Can't YOU people do anything. I been transferred 3 times. I have been on the phone for 20 minutes. "

Me thinking...”You've been transferred around because you don't know shit about your own company and don't even know your account fucking number! Well, that me pull that out of my ass.”

Yada, yada, yada, yada, yada.

I end the call after searching 15 systems and basically pulling the information out of my ass, “I located your account. Let me get you to the correct department so we CAN better assist you. The number there is 888-888-8888. Is there anything else I can assist you with? Do you mind holding while I transfer you? You have a great day, and thank you for calling blah blah blah World wide customer service center, have a great day.”

Sorry for boring all of you with my rant and my ass kissing job. It was very cathartic. You didn't sense any hostility, did you? (This is why I take anti-depressants.) Thank goodness for all of the wonderful people I work with, the great pay, and the benefits or I would be outta there!

Yeah, I got a vacation day! Now that I got that out, I can enjoy it.

If you made it through my whole post.....I took some pictures of my animals surrounding me this morning. How they calm me.... Molly., Snowball, and bogart. I must warn you, I'm no photographer. But of course, blogger will not post my pics... I'll try later.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Skunk piss?

I came home one evening from a date. I was met at the door by my roomy Theresa all in a thither. "Becky! You've got to help me. You've got to talk to Mark. He is going to kill the neighbors!"

As mentioned in my previous post, Mark adored his animals. Especially his stud pittbull, Toes. Toes was a sweety, peetie pie. I don't think I ever heard him growl, just lovable as hell. Some how Toes got loose. Apparently, he caught a scent of something he could not resist.

Mark heard a gunshot and in his paranoid, discrete manner looked out the window. Toes was scampering home from the neighbor's whimpering. Mark saw his prize dog and ran to the door to find Toes bleeding from his ass. That's right, Toes had buck shot peppered across his doggy behind.

Mark marched over to next door, which was, oh about 1/8 of a mile away. It seemed Toes, being the horny stud dog he was, wondered over to the neighbor's, jumped the fence, and raped his pure bread poodle. And according to the neighbor, tried to pillage his village too. He claimed he attempted to break up this horrible violation and Toes tried to attack him. Only to defend himself, he shot Toes with his shotgun.

Mark was enraged, incensed, infuriated! Knowing Toes, you knew this was bullshit. He asked, as calmly as he could to the man, "If Toes was trying to attack you, why does he have buckshot in his ass?" I'm not sure what, but the man stammered some poor excuse. Rather than react, Mark walked away quietly plotting how he would respond.

He was going to "kill the mother fucker". He knew he could rip his head off or shoot him but he would be arrested for this. So after contemplating all of his options, he decided he would pour mercury in the man's well. This, of course, with the amount Mark wanted to use, would poison the man and his family to death.

Theresa and I pleaded with him, "Mark, it was that bastard that did it. He has small children and a wife, you can't possibly do this!" After about 30 minutes, Mark agreed it would be a deadly mistake.

Mark, crazy as he was, devised his plan of attack. He waited patiently for about two weeks. He had soaked rags in paint thinner in a large coffee can and placed the lid on. He had a small bottle of skunk urine,(somehow used for hunting to throw off the scent of a human), and drew it into a large syringe. The first night....Mark slipped into his camouflage, he even painted his face just like a soldier. He crept over to the house and placed all of the rags strategically on the man's car. The second night....camouflaged, he lurked over to the house. It was a nice breezy summer evening and the neighbor had his windows open. Mark ejected a stream of skunk urine across the man's living room. Do you know how difficult it is to rid a house of skunk scent?

Mark had completed his maneuvers and avenged Toes without killing anyone. We very seldom saw the neighbor after that and when we did, he went out of his way not to make eye contact. Oh, that brilliantly crazy Mark, ya gotta love him.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Saved by an old biker

I was 22 years young and in a horribly abusive relationship. He was a worthless, non-working, drug addicted alcoholic. Oh yes, I knew how to pick 'em. I can not even begin to tell you the things this puke did. He always said he would rather see me dead that with another man. I knew I had to escape to survive.

I went to work and never came home. I got out with one change of clothes, my make-up, and my purse. Puke, of course, gave all of my belongings away. I moved in with my friend Carolyn that I worked with at the bar. Puke started stalking me. The bouncers protected me at work. They were off duty police officers and when Puke was around, would even give me a ride home. I awoke one morning with Puke sleeping next to me in my bed. The freak broke into Carolyn's house through a window. It was time to move again.

I didn't have anywhere to go. I didn't want to expose anyone else to Puke slithering around their homes or families.

I had another friend I worked with, Theresa. Not really an exceptional person, but she had a bad ass boyfriend. A few months prior, Puke and I met Mark, via Theresa, after the bar closed and was invited to his motorcycle gang's clubhouse to party. Mark despised him and told me Puke was never welcome at the clubhouse again. Mark was exceptional.

Mark and Theresa invited me to move in with them. We lived on the outskirts of town in an old rental house on 240 acres. Mark protectively stated, "Let the son-of-a-bitch come out here. I'll shoot him, bury him out in the north forty, and no one will ever know". He was serious. Puke knew this. Puke never bothered me again.

Mark was crazy. He would tell you, "I'm crazy. I have papers to prove it. Ya want to see 'em?" He was on permanent disability. He was a little paranoid and had a gun by every window. He adored his animals. He had a pitbull names Toes, and a basset hound named Sammy Dog. Toes was breeding stock and before breeding, Mark would always say, "Toes won't fuck unless I read him Penthouse Forum", and he would. Sammy Dog could talk. He would only do it if you had food. "Sammy, say hello". "Herro. Herro". You had better give him his snack.

Mark was probably around 45. I never knew his last name. I went out of my way to avoid learning too much for fear of being questioned by the police. He taught me how to take care of myself, how to shoot, how to change a tire, and freed me. I had many adventures living there. He may have been a bit of an outlaw, but he was an angel to me.

I often wonder how old Mark is doin'. Bless you baby, where ever you are.

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Pics of our PGH Mission

On our first PGH mission, Randy was asked to be a blocker. I was proud of him. He would ride to the front of the procession and block the intersections so we could stay in a group. I was the tail gunner (the very last one in the procession). It was nice. The family was so greatful and kind. They invited all of us back to thier home.

Monday, July 03, 2006

The Patriot Guard Riders against Freak Reverend Phelps

We have a complete idiot living in Topeka, Kansas. This man has completely disgusted me for years. His name is Reverend Fred Phelps; his church, The Westboro Baptist Church (WBC). The majority of his congregants are related to him by blood. His wife, several of his children and dozens of his grandchildren frequent the church. The man is a complete freak who has, as far as I'm concerned, tortured mourning families since 1991. If you would like to see how twisted his clan is, check out his website.

The group was known for picketing the funerals of gay people or those they thought to be gay. In 1998, WBC congregants set off an angry reaction when they showed up at the funeral of gay murder victim Matthew Shepard, and held up signs reading "No Fags in Heaven" and "God Hates Fags." According to the WBC Web site, they have staged "over 22,000" protests across the nation and around the world since 1991.

Since the summer of 2005, they began picketing the funerals of U.S. soldiers who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan as a way of venting rage at a government that they believe is tolerant of homosexuality.

This is how the Patriot guard Riders came about. The WBC was at a funeral of a fallen soldier, picketing. They were holding signs and screaming, "GOD HATES FAGS, FAGS HATE GOD, AIDS CURES FAGS, THANK GOD FOR AIDS, FAGS BURN IN HELL, NO NOT MOCKED, FAGS ARE NATURE FREAKS, GOD GAVE FAGS UP, NO SPECIAL LAWS FOR FAGS, etc...
They were yelling at the mourning family how their son was a fag.

Some veterans went to that funeral and stood firm to guard the family from the crazed idiots. The Patriot guard Website:

Randy and I have joined. Since 2005 the Patriot guard Riders are 43, 414 strong. We will ride on our first mission to St. Joseph, Missouri for the services for a fallen soldier and then ride to Whitecloud, KS for the funeral on July 7th. We are expecting 300 riders. I certainly hope the WBC does not show up. If they do, I'll look that son-of-bitch Phelps dead in the eye, and lip, "I love fags!". Cuz I do.