Sunday, February 29, 2004


The Concert Circuit

1. How far would you or have you travelled to see a concert?

Austin to San Antonio(Foghat)/Houston(Robin Trower) and Col. Springs to Boulder (Ozzy)

2. What is the best concert you've seen?

It's got to be Thin Lizzy at the Armadillo on the jailbreak tour.It's hard to choose

3. What is the worst concert you've seen?

Black Sabbath on their never say die tour...45 minutes to stumble through 4 songs and an eightball, one of the more deflating moments of my life.

4. Have you met a performer after a concert?

I interviewed a canadian band called Moxy at the Armadillo after their show for my high school newspaper. I got The Runaways (Joan Jett, Lita Ford et al) to sign my sophmore yearbook at the Dillo in "75. Touch me...go ahead.

5. What singer would you like to meet most?

Barry Manilow...just to kick him in his patch ! Seriously... Henry Rollins.
What's that grinding sound? It's us coming to a halt.
From an Indiana online paper:

MUNSTER -- After police used a battering ram to break down the door of a duplex Friday, they were greeted by a horrific sight: Margaret Jansky's decapitated body lying in the kitchen, wrapped in plastic and covered with blankets.

Her severed head had been wrapped in a plastic bag and put behind a garbage can in the kitchen.

Jansky, 81, had apparently been dead a week. Her legally blind daughter, Margaret Church, allegedly confessed to police that she stuck a pitchfork through her mother's neck Feb. 13 before using a pair of knives to cut her head off.

Church, 54, of 8129 Highland Place, was charged Monday with murder. She is being held without bond in Lake County Jail.

Detective Joe Rodriguez said in court documents that Church lived with the body for a week before police, acting on an anonymous tip, came to the duplex last Friday.

Munster Police Chief Nick Panich said police are trying to trace the tip, which came from a pay phone at the Strack & Van Til grocery store at 12 Ridge Road, Munster, about 9:50 a.m. Friday, asking that police check on Jansky's welfare.

The tipster said Church was "talking that she killed her mother," Rodriguez said.

Police went to the home and were shooed away by Church, who told them if they wanted to come in they needed a warrant. When officers Joseph Newton and Byron Oberc told Church they were there to check on her mother, Church allegedly replied, "The queen is sleeping and she will be sleeping for a long time."

Acting on an order from a superior officer, Newton and Oberc used a pry bar and battering ram to get into the house, at which time they were invited in by Church, who "blurted out that her mother's body was in the kitchen and her mother's head was behind the garbage can," according to the murder charge filed by Detective Joe Rodriguez.

Panich sighed when asked about the motive. "I can't tell you how many times I've been asked that," he said. "I'm not aware of any motive."

Jansky had lived in Munster for some time, at one time living in a condominium on Harrison Avenue and at another in an older home on Calumet Avenue that was bought by St. Thomas More church and torn down for additional parking.

Church, who was divorced, lived with her mother in an "on-again, off-again" relationship, said Detective Division Cmdr. Sgt. Ed Strbjak. Her son is in the U.S. Air Force in Ramstein, Germany, Strbjak said, and has been notified.

Police were no strangers to the Highland Place duplex. They had last been called to the home Feb. 13, the date Church allegedly said she killed her mother. That visit was also the result of a tip from someone who said they had spoken with Church and she seemed irrational and was possibly "off her medication."

Three officers responded and rang the doorbell but got no response. Upon seeing a person inside shut the back door, the officers concluded the person was ambulatory and left.

It is not known whether Jansky was alive when police arrived to check on Church.

Police also report being called to the duplex Jan. 8 and again Jan. 23 to help Superior Ambulance crews with Jansky, who had apparently fallen off a portable commode. On the last date, she was lying on the floor near a pile of feces while downstairs was Church, who "appeared to be intoxicated" according to the report, with "multiple empty liquor bottles surrounding her."

On Jan. 24, Munster police notified the Adult Protective Services unit of the Indiana Family and Social Services Administration of the "possible elder abuse." No one from the FSSA in Indianapolis, where the notification was sent, was available Monday to say whether there had been a follow-up.

Strbjak said his department received no notification whether the administration was going to follow up, but said he did not find this unusual. "It goes into their hands and we can't answer that," he said. "Obviously, we looked into it and it doesn't fall into my division. She (Church) had not been beaten up, there was no malnutrition. My understanding is that she was not taken care of, not kept clean."

On Feb. 13, something snapped, though.

According to court records, Church told police she went to her mother's bedroom and pulled her from the bed, then when her mother was on her back, put a pitchfork on her throat and stepped on it as her mother asked, "Why are you doing this?"

Church said she was trying to decapitate her mother with the pitchfork but could not do it, so she got two kitchen knives and completed the job. She took the body downstairs to the kitchen, then wrapped the head in a bag and took that to the kitchen as well, placing it behind the garbage can.

She told police she wrapped the kitchen knives in aluminum foil, then put them in a garbage can in an unattached garage behind the duplex. Police obtained a search warrant for the garage and found the knives in the foil, Rodriguez said.

The pitchfork was found in the living room, leaning against a chair.

Police had also been called to the house March 21, 1999, after Jansky called to tell them Church had apparently tried to commit suicide. Church was found on the kitchen floor, fading in and out of consciousness, and was taken to The Community Hospital.

Although Rodriguez's report said a dog had been poisoned at the time of the suicide, the original police report said the dog was turned over to animal control for safekeeping.

Wow...just...... wow.
Did I really just write "all garlicky and yum"! ? Geez.............:)
Corditefest went off without a hitch today... there were only 5 of us that made it, but it was a blast. My red tracers were duds (gun show never know) but the green was awesome...quite the light show.
Here, let me share the joy.

King queso loves the AK

No, that's not a joint... we're responsible gun nuts


The obligatory group shot

After, we went to Rusty's house where his lovely wife (and chef) Kelly
served us up a fine BBQ of ribeyes,beef tenderloin,venison links and the
biggest shrimp I've ever seen in my life (all garlicky and yum!) . Plus there
was german potato salad and an awesome salad. Mircro brew rye beer and Jager.
You couldn't have asked for a better day.
I'm all packed up for the Texas independence day cordite fest and BBQ. Hopefully the weather will hold out and it won't rain tomorrow (at least until were done). Overcast is good, in fact I'm counting on it. I have one magazine loaded with every other red tracer round and one with green tracers.
Hey... it's a holiday after all.
So, here we are now...1:41am and I'm in the tank...too many rocks no salt I'm afraid (if you could see me typing this you would be laughing.... hard).
I am up this late only because I got some new CD label software. I spent half the day learning it and up until now making killer templates for my band and a variety of other bands... covers too.
And in between, we managed a trip to Maudies where we got THE austin demographic pie chart in real time.
Here it is by table:
Table 1 : 6 underage kids with fake ID's...which were scrutinized by the staff and deemed legit...If any of these kids were legit piss in my face and tell me it's raining. They reminded me of peanut's characters. Loud and obnoxious.
Table 2 : 5 twentysomething austinconscious hipsters. Lookin' oh so cool and keepin' it on the down low. (I like this demographic).
Table 3 : 10 thirtysomethings... the women are starting to crash but insist on wearing clothes the table 2 people wear with slinky slinky pride :). When the southern shift begins please don't deny it and please... try not to look so pissed off about it, especially when you're looking at the girls at table 2, it's undignified, really.
Table 4 : Breeders... 8 of them. And they brought their progeny with....from toddlers to blanket covered amoeba in car seat/carrier/portable crib..they are here and they are LOUD and ACTIVE and fucking annoying. The adults are oblivious to what, to me, is tantamount to the holocaust...well,not really (it's the tequila talking:) ). Suffice to say, I don't like kids in a restaurant unless they are sufficiently muzzled.
Table 5 : Me and Ann... A fortysomething couple with one adult kid (mine from a previous ) struggling to hear each other over the din of tables 1 through 4 ,(thank god there isn't a table of nonsmokers stupid enough to take a table on the deck where smoking is ALLOWED yet have the balls to make faces at me for doing what I'm ALLOWED to do and then indignantly move inside to the no smoking area...fuck you).
And in our indigence of all those who offended us, we wonder, are we becoming bitter and set in our ways?

Saturday, February 28, 2004

It occurred to me while I was loading my Romanian and Chinese made magazines with ammo made in Russia, Africa, Czechoslovakia and the bad ol' USofA for use in my Chinese made rifle that I was truly a multinational force....
Ah, the weekend
Over my lifetime, I've rarely looked forward to weekends for a variety of reasons, but during the first three or four years of my relationship with Rob I considered weekends to be a very cool thing. Rob and I would go camping or have the guys in the band over for a day-long jam session or throw a party or do some other sort of fun thing. Then the work, family and neighborhood situation gradually changed and we stopped doing those things. The initial nail in the coffin was when the cops started showing up at the first sound of a bar chord. I never figured out which neighbors (if any) were complaining since all the folks around us were totally cool with the jam sessions or parties and usually came over to join in the fun. Personally, I think it was just the cops driving by, hearing the music and deciding to break it up based on the shitty council's preoccupation with noise ordinances. We contemplated buying a decibel meter to prove that it wasn't that loud until we discovered we needed a special permit to play amplified music in our backyard. We then switched to acoustic guitars and STILL the cops came out. Apparently there's a limit to the number of people you can have in your backyard or something like that.

At some point, I started working at jobs where I no longer had weekends totally free, Kyle turned into a teenager and some other stuff happened that left us with without the extra energy needed to pull off a camping trip or do anything but turn into couch potatoes on the weekends. That became the routine which turned into a habit and we continued to be stuck in that rut even after the kid grew up and I was laid off from my job. You would think I could have mustered the energy to come up with something fun to do on a weekend. Then again, there was the stress of not being able to find a new job, the struggle to keep a roof over our head and food on the table and the depression that resulted from finding myself suddenly "unemployable". Not exactly a formula for fun times.

Those days have passed and I have a new job. Yesterday, after being at work from seven in the morning to seven at night on three of those days, I found myself really looking forward to the weekend. Unfortunately, it wasn't because we had something "fun" planned. It was only because it meant that I didn't have to get out of bed at 4:30 in the morning and I might actually get some housework and laundry done. Not exactly the best reasons to look forward to a weekend. I found myself longing for the old days when weekends had a bigger purpose than just sleeping late and cleaning house. How did we pull that off?

I do remember that we had dinner at a restaurant every night and so there was very little grocery shopping and dish washing. We were also both done with work and commute by 5:15 or so and went to bed around 11:30 which gave us a good six hours every weeknight. We don't have that kind of time in the evenings now. We also had two dogs that didn't require much attention instead of three that require a bit more interaction. Plus we weren't quite the complete slobs then that we are now and I think we were much better at maintaining some semblance of order around the house during the week.

I can't do much about the time factor right now and eating out every night would not only wreck the budget, but would also prevent being at the house where I can do a load of laundry while I spend time with the dogs. Perhaps we can motivate ourselves to cook and clean during the week if we have a "fun stuff" carrot hanging in front of our noses. The trick is going to be coming up with things to do that are enticing enough to prevent us from saying "Ah, fuck it" on the weeknights. Right now, I can't think of anything that would provide the proper motivation. It seems that somewhere along the line, I've forgotten how to have fun.

Friday, February 27, 2004

There are some songs that rode under the radar worthy of mention, this is one of them.

Susan (subhumans,from the time flies EP)

Susan finished school at 16 wants to be a secretary
two years later she's got nowhere ends up in a factory
making matches is so boring she gets sad and so depressed
hears her doctor smugly tell her "take these pills and get some rest"
But she takes it one stage further parents rescue her in time
Smile and tell her "when your married everything will be just fine"
She recovers and gets married further shuts the closing door
Though he says "I really love you" she feels worse off than before
9 months later she's a mother to a bouncing baby boy
"oh how super" say her parents but for her there is no joy
words like mummy don't mean nothing it's all she hears from 9 til 5
all alone at number 19 every single day she dies
19 years of hollow cliches now she wants to end it all
bored to death from doing nothing family drives her up the wall
Swingin' susan hanged herself she couldn't live her pointless life
He comes home to see through tears the rigid corpse that was his wife
The life and times of Susan Strange ended in that tragic way
With the money from insurance the family went on holiday
nothing left but rotting flowers on an unattented grave
the epitaph has faded badly
no one reads it anyway

All jangly piano and sharp guitar, it pokes a hole in your heart,really it does.I have tried to work out a version of this song with acoustic guitar forever and just can't get through it...someday maybe.someday.

And thanks to the Austin shitty council, there won't be a parade. They declined to waive the parade fee, and by the time they realized what a bunch of assholes they looked like for doing this the organizers of said parade had disbanded. No parade no matter what crawdaddy moves the shitty council made.
The shitty council regularly waives fees for every minority group on the planet and then some. What's up shitty council? Do you really think the coupla thousand bucks from fees for this would take care of the incredibly HUGE shortfall were facing because you're a bunch of self centered non local asswipe fucksticks? Up your collective asses with a nail embedded night stick...go to hell.
So...we get no parade, we have to come up with an alternative, and that alternative is:
Let's get a bunch of us together and go to the gunrange! And after we can BBQ a goat or something and drink lots of beer!
There will be AK's, SKS's, 9's, 45's, 380's, 40's, 12g. shotguns, M1A1's and thousands of rounds of ammo of every variety.
I love it when we go to the gunrange, usually it's just 4 to 6 of us and even then we freak the shit out of the other patrons. But this time there will be at least 12 of us there.The other patrons: boom......................boom......................boom.................boom.
Us: BoomboomboomboomboomaboomdiddyboomboomboomBOOM!!!
Non stop boomage. I enjoy lobbing 12gauge slugs into targets on the
100 meter range...aim for the head hit the other head, kind of like shooting
Then on to the BBQ, so Texas,so not a parade.

Thursday, February 26, 2004

Scratch Acid
An obscure band, probably not known by many. It's one of several bands from the collection of "Rob music" that I would probably not have experienced I had not experienced Rob. There's something about listening to Scratch Acid that makes me want to grab my bass and call up the other members of our band to schedule a jam session. I'm not sure what it is since this is not the type of music that we play, but there's some similarity there. Maybe it's the "rawness" of the recording, or the mood, the feeling, the tempo... I don't know. I put Scratch Acid in the CD player the other day on a whim and had this urge to call up the rest of the band. Then again, it might not have been that CD since Rob seems to have the urge as well based on his earlier post, "we have been on semi-hiatus-retirement for, well... too fucking long.. ". Yeah, we have been on too long of a hiatus. I'm ready to make some noise again.
My Personality Disorder

Personality Disorder Test Results
Paranoid |||||| 22%
Schizoid |||||||||||||| 54%
Schizotypal |||||||||||||||| 70%
Antisocial |||||||||||| 46%
Borderline || 10%
Histrionic || 10%
Narcissistic |||| 18%
Avoidant |||||||||||| 42%
Dependent |||||| 22%
Obsessive-Compulsive |||||||||||| 42%
Take Free Personality Disorder Test

Hmm... interesting comparison between Rob and I. I wonder if this is one reason why our relationship works so well. Maybe if more Schizotypal women hooked up with Antisocial men, the divorce rate would go down ;->

A day in the life...
I took our dog Sullivan to the vet last Saturday to have his doggie physical and get up to date on his shots so he can start training on March 6th. There's this little problem with him being aggressive towards strangers which needs to be addressed before the start of class and the place that I work at just happens to specialize in that area. Gee, an employee discount that I can actually use for a change.

I hauled him up to work with me today for them to take a quick (5 minute) look at him, knowing full well that he was going to spend the day either in the car (if the weather was right) or in the room we use for aggressive dogs. I figured it wasn't much different than him spending the day in a room at our house and who knows, maybe he'd enjoy the change of pace. Besides, I could spend time with him on breaks and that's pretty cool.

So early this morning one of the trainers asked me to get him out of the car and Sully decided to put on the most aggressive display I've seen him do yet. Maybe it was because I hadn't had enough coffee yet, but somehow I let the leash slip out of my hand and that was a tense moment. Fortunately, it was all show and no real substance and the trainer, of course, knows how to read a dog and what to do in those situations. Still, I felt pretty foolish letting Sully slip away from me like that. Strike one.

Then I ended up with even more egg on my face later today when I didn't realize there was a client in the room at the time I made an extremely tacky comment out-loud about a phone call that I had just finished. It never occurred to me that there might be a customer around since we didn't have any appointments scheduled at the time. Strike two.

Two o'clock rolled around and I had to leave to avoid running up too many hours for the week, but there was so much that didn't get finished which needed to be done. Strike three.

I doubt anyone there is going to complain about these things, but I'm sure doing a good job of beating myself up over it. I'd like to think that it's just because it's a new job and I want to make a good impression or some crap like that and this too will pass, but truth be told, I'm a perfectionist and I will feel like this whether I've been on the job three weeks or three years. I've never figured out how to cut myself slack when it comes to work (I don't seem to have a problem when it comes to housework) and I don't know what the answer is. Maybe I need to start smoking pot. You know, that "don't worry, be happy" kind of thing...
At her request, I sent lyrics to a song I had written with my band to K. I have never had much luck sitting down and writing a song, the way we do it is like this: we jam up a song and I just spit out whatever comes out of my mind at the time regulated by the substances I've consumed at any given practice...predominantly alcohol. Our songs, lyrically anyway are in some way autobiographical or based on my experiences in life as a social worker. Mostly they are just ugly.
My main musical roots are in the blues,so the majority of my spitting out the lyrics involves relationships failed, specifically, mine.
We tape everything, we have MILES of DAT tape from 1994 to present, well, 2002 on a regular basis, we have been on semi-hiatus-retirement for, well... too fucking long.
Anyway, I play back these tapes and clean up the lyrics as needed. This particular song needed no editing's possibly our proudest moment. It's our set closer. People listen to the words and make the funniest faces. I love doing this song live, just for the freak out factor alone, not to mention it allows me to pretend I'm Neil Young on lead guitar.
Lyrics are very personal to me unless I'm screaming them to an audience with the express intent of fucking with their heads. To send them in written form to K freaks me out a bit...go figure.
Bless you!
I'm not so vulnerable now.
Watch your mailbox:)
I haven't seen Mel's movie yet, and I probably won't.But since everyone and their cousin's speculating about it (and nothings been happening around here worth note) I figured I'd throw my 2 cents into the mix.
Mel says he had a revelation...I bet it went something like this : Jim Carey makes more money than I do, what can I do that will cause such a sensation that I can make a kajillion bucks? Since I'm burned out on acting, why don't I make a film that will bring just about every group to a fever pitch on one side or the other utilizing my cloudy memories of my fucked up catholic upbringing? BRILLIANT.
I give to you the passion of the christ.
controversial? check.
Accurate? Who really knows-who really cares? Check.
Violent? Apparently so...bloodily so. Check.
Spiritual? No, but it will be deemed so by the film critics who were also fucked up by growing up catholic...Mel can't lose.Check.
Lots of box office,lots of press,lots of air time,lots of controversy...sounds like the catholic church...beh.
Bottom line for Mel? Ka-Ching!!!
(I posted this yesterday but blogger ate it...and apparently spit it back up today!)

Monday, February 23, 2004


Personality Disorder Test Results
Paranoid |||||| 30%
Schizoid |||| 14%
Schizotypal |||||| 22%
Antisocial |||||||||||||||||| 74%
Borderline |||| 18%
Histrionic |||||||||| 34%
Narcissistic |||| 18%
Avoidant |||||| 22%
Dependent |||||| 26%
Obsessive-Compulsive |||||||||||| 42%
Take Free Personality Disorder Test

Wow...close but no cigar. I'm glad the schitzy shit is low-what?!-shut up!-NO! you shut up!
Excuse me,I have to go change my socks and wash my hands now.
There's a carpet store across the street from our shop,and every morning the installers block the street and take our parking spots and generally annoy us and our customers.
There is a never ending stream of delivery trucks until about 10 in the morning, and this guy with the biggest tit's I've ever seen unloads rolls of carpet with a forklift equipped with a joust like appendage that is vaguely phallic, what with the piercing of the carpet rolls...but mostly it's a traffic blocker.
And that's the scene every morning, until today.There was a fight at carpetbagger central this morning... we got to see it all.
One big dude was arguing with 2 smaller dudes (one of them a 50-something deaf man) lots of posturing and pushing and then BAM! the big dude punched the younger dude in the face,sending him reeling...and then he ran off and was running over cars in the chop shops parking lot next door, with like 5 other dudes in pursuit, also running and jumping over cars. Meanwhile the deaf guy threw himself to the ground and started slapping his chest and making those guttural yelps deaf people make when excited, as if to say to the big dude "hey big dude!Look! I'm so scared I'm having a coronary!NOT!" When big dude kicked the other guy in the face,deaf guy jumped up,and he and the other dude who got kicked in the face bumrushed him and they went flying into the barditch by our driveway and started pummeling the big dude dogpile style. All the while management was running around trying to restore order to no avail.
Another carpet bagger came running over with a big rock and tried to hit big dude with it...when he couldn't get a clear shot he just started kicking.Then there was more leaping on and over and posing on cars.
It was like bad westside story!
Then the cops rolled up and it was over.
As far as I could tell no one went to jail, but I can tell you, this isn't over.
Stay tuned.
I can't imagine any work related dispute that would cause me to get physical...yell and threaten maybe...but throw down?
No way.

Sunday, February 22, 2004

Sex and the city I mean. Great closer. Going out gracefully is sometimes a good thing. What an awesome run. Everyone's happy in the end. It's not life, it's HBO...too bad.
Special K got me thinking about this whole butt thing and I remember a training class I went to when I was house manager at an emergency shelter about STD's and birth control and AIDS and mostly about tolerance...sexual tolerance.
The presenter went on and on about anal, the history of anal...greek birth control apparently in the old days. It was almost surreal,here I was in a room full of men and women talking about all manner of things sexual...the helping field is a strange one,that's for sure, and this presenter obviously had - uh - issues centered squarely on his poop chute and felt compelled to share the gory details with us. (nobody,by the way, excused themselves to the restroom during this part of the presentation). Go figure.
It was another story when he moved on to oral sex! (just kidding).
If you creep the seedier aspects of the internet (guilty) there are hundreds of sites dedicated to this anal thing, and almost to a one they are focused on domination, humiliation and pain... and spurting all over the place. Not a pretty picture and certainly not an endorsement for the joys of anal, whatever that means.
It really bugs me when I see women objectified like this... sex is and SHOULD be about mutual joy and pleasure, not just the act itself but the interaction between 2 people who love (or,in some cases lust after) each other. And if the Butt thing is part of that so be it, as long as it's mutual and done right.
On a lighter note, I new a girl who referred to it as "boofoo"-cute,huh? I bet the guys in Huntsville penitentiary don't call it that.
It's official. Nader's gonna do it again. Here's what he has to say:

"After careful thought and my desire to retire our supremely selected president, I've decided to run as an independent candidate for president," Nader said during an interview on NBC's "Meet the Press."

You go girl! I mean, come on... he failed miserably in the last election posing as a green. What makes him think he can "retire" bunnypants as an independent???
He won't and he can't, it's as simple as that.
Third parties don't work in this country beyond a local level because the ruling parties have a lock on the gig, they have the resources.
The only possible effect Nader will have is to ruin the dems chances to unseat bush and this would be a tragedy.
I'm not saying Kerry is the better choice, he's the only choice in my mind that has a rat's chance of beating bush. To me, that's all that matters, you could install a sock puppet in the white house and we'd be better off than we are currently.
I don't remember an election that was conducted on the issues (my parents used to tell me stories though) and this one is cooking up to be a doozy.
Smear-ection would be a better way to describe the process. bush is clearly a liar, surrounded by liars , but getting that message out to the masses is a laborious uphill climb. Little bits are starting to trickle out but they are instantly spun away or buried or most recently countered with some "more damaging" revelation about Kerry.
The media and the public have been bamboozled by this administration and somehow believe things are working fine. They aren't, look around, we are in a world of shit on every conceivable level and bunnypants and his minions are directly responsible for it.
Not Clinton. (And WHY are we still hearing about Clinton? Because it's EASY and, it gets a reaction ).
Sadly, as that vile shitbag Limbaugh predicted a week or so ago, Viet Nam is becoming the issue,that and military character in general.
This weekend alone I have seen THREE versions of Kerry's testimony in '71 about atrocities in Viet Nam, each one tailored to appeal to the targeted audiences political bent. One of them might be verbatim,they said it was, but who really knows?
Barring a miracle this election will be decided by who is the better slanderer, and if it's close you can be sure those assholes at the supreme court will step up for bush again and fix it, and I don't mean fix it like it's broke, I mean fix it like the 1919 world series.
A third party is a good idea whose time may never come. Nader ain't it that's for sure.

Saturday, February 21, 2004

This guy was posing as a home buyer and strangled a woman to death in austin.He had been in other women's houses but creeped them out so much they sent him on his way.
They found no fingerprints but were able to convict on some DNA evidence but mostly on what they found on his computer.
He was a regular at and several of those erotic asphyxiation websites.
From what I've read of the case and heard on the radio,it's pretty clear this guy was one sick pup and clearly guilty of taking this woman's life.
But lets consider this computer evidence a bit more.
Lets say some woman is found dead in my neighborhood...she choked on something.
Someone saw me walking by the victims house...the police confiscate my computer and walah! Death by blow job.
Now I wouldn't hurt a fly (a rat,yes,but beyond that I'm a peaceful type), but my computer records would incriminate me and I could find myself sitting on death row simply because of a few *expletive deleted* mpegs on my cache.
Everybody has private deviances, but with the internet they are shared and brought to life...doesn't matter if it's quilting or furry gang rape,if you want to find it, it's out there.
Alot of the more deviant stuff should have stayed in the heads of those attracted to it,but the internet has provided a forum for everyone to share...and I mean everyone.
With the increasing encroachment on civil rights and privacy I have to have a second thought on going to richards realm. In this specific case said encroachment caught a killer,but what about the rest of us?
We live in dangerous times.
After our trip to the zoo...I mean dinner last night, Ann and I went to Cheapos. They have used CD's as far as the eye can see... a huge place.
I was looking for a particular,hard to find CD by another 80's UK punk outfit Flux of Pink Indians...Didn't find it...found another Flux CD and got it.
Not impressed.
But I did find some other ones on my list:
Sixty Watt Shaman : Reason to Live. Very nice.....:) Clutch like,and like Clutch,from Maryland.
Therapy? : High Anxiety. Very nice...a return to form after a couple of disappointing efforts.
T.S.O.L : Change Today? : Very different from other T.S.O.L efforts...very Thin White Rope influenced (that's a good thing). I saw the tour supporting this release in '86.
I remember it well because this skinhead kept slamming into me no matter how many dirty looks I gave him, and I finally grabbed him and pegged his ass up and against
a pole with his feet about 6 inches off the floor. He just smiled and asked me for a cigarette....end of conflict,for us anyway.We smoked,shot the shit,shook hands and off he went. About 30 minutes later I saw a frat boy throw the same skinhead across 2 tables...he looked like he was flying!
Ann scored D.R.I : Crossover. Hey it has "5 year plan" on it, nuff said...they are one of the best punk/metal hybrids ever. (brush with greatness:the drummer was in a treatment center my ex worked at).
Ann also,for some reason,got Molly Hatchet's Flirting with disaster...ok....I sometimes have that song run through my head, usually when I'm 3 sheets, what ever floats your boat:)
If your inclined you can explore the above mentioned bands and more like them at :
They have an extensive jukebox of all manner of heavy rock and roll.
Please excuse the erratic punctuation.....I channel Kerouac,ok?
High anxiety has kicked in around here, for me anyway....Nader's expected to announce his intentions to fuck up another election,uh, I mean run as an independent. I wonder if he's going to have that hippy chick earth mother in a pancho as a running mate again?
I have no problem with women in politics,but come on...I think I may have scored weed from her back in the armadillo days.
Mr. are some realities, actually one reality:
You don't have a chance of doing anything but spoiling it for Kerry/Edwards and sealing our doom to 2008. Four more years of bunnypants is the last fucking thing we need.
So. Why is he doing this?
Does he really think that saving us from the Corvair somehow qualifies him to be president? I think this is all about ego...or he's certifiable...or both.
I'll be holding my breath until he does his TV interview, and hoping he comes to his senses beforehand.Or he gets abducted by aliens,or that crazy looking eye of his finally explodes.
Nader is the political equivalent of horrible headwound harry crashing your dinner party.

Friday, February 20, 2004


I was really hoping to be ripley in aliens:) about your bad ass.
Ann and I went to Maudies for dinner tonight...when will we ever learn? Crowded,loud,on the waiting list...and unruly children.(Have I mentioned that I hate children?I think I have).
But there's one thing I hate more than children...the parent(s).
There was a table of 7 "adults" to our immediate right who had a toddler with them.The (I'm guessing) dad was blowing his bud light breath into the kids face until she would start screaming and then the mom (I instinctively knew she was the mom because she kept PULLING THE KIDS PANTS DOWN,presumably checking for a buddy) would scold the child for screaming.This would be followed by the kid and dad making the "trouble face" for a few minutes and then he would do some genius thing like grab her face and shake her head around until she would start screaming again,or banging silverware on the metal table like a trance crazed haitian then mom would scold her again while checking the nappy again for klingons. There was,of course,the obligatory running around the patio like a dervish...which in particular makes me want to scream,overturn the table and throw chairs.
Meanwhile the other clampetts at the table were displaying the finest white trash traits in response to the kids frequent high decibel bursts of screaming,laughing or crying. There was a diaper change (out of view,thank god) but done on a counter where PEOPLE EAT,you idiot!!!!
Did I mention I HATE kids?(Let me clarify by saying I hate kids whose parents rely on the "feral plan" in regards to child rearing) In these situations I become instantly old and crotchity.
Maudies is not the fucking playscape at McDonalds people...get a clue.

Thursday, February 19, 2004

I'D FORGOTTEN HOW PUNK ROCK I AM...(2-20-04: I meant to say was...:P)
I was snippy today...I spoke my mind without thinking about it first...I carried myself differently.
I went from veering out of the way of conflict to placing my steel toed boot right up the ass of what ever rubbed me the wrong way.
Today was a day of rediscovery for me...I was reintroduced to my old self redefined.
I reaffirmed myself and it didn't hurt and I didn't go blind.
With that said...look the fuck out world! I'm old and in the way...wait! That's grateful dead talking...somebody put the boots to those guys :)
I was late to work by an hour,a major sin if you didn't prepare the boss for it ahead of time and call someone as soon as you drag your drunkard tired ass out of bed.
I did these 2 things and spared myself the admonitions...
I walk into the shop and there is my concert mate at my work station...several other employees are around the's our exchange:
him:"are you still mad at me"? (replete with the baiting face)
me:"yes...I can't believe you ditched me". (replete with pissed off face)
him:"I didn't ditch you mother fucker". (replete with what exactly happened I'm not so sure face)
me: "yes you did fucking ditch me asshole".(see pissed off face)
him: "no I didn't...hey,fuck you" (defensive face)
me: "no...FUCK YOU" (storm off to time clock)
And that was was over.
That's the cool thing about my friend...we say what's up and it's hard feelings,no grudges.It may come up again in future interactions,but we laugh about it.
In fact it came up again at lunch time and we were both laughing about it.
That's how friends oughta be...and we both agreed.
SUBHUMANS fucking rocked the house.
I rode the bus downtown to sixth street (I figured I shouldn't drive since the likelihood of drunkeness was high) and walked to Casino el camino...there I had several beers and a couple of shots of jager....visited with some friends and then headed off to EMOS for the SUBHUMANS show...I was not disappointed.
They fucking rocked! I found myself a pocket stage right void of the mosh pit going on around me and had a disturbance free experience of my most favorite punk band...ever.
I am sooo buzzed I shant write anymore...but here are the highlights:
1.Before the bands started,I got a chance to talk with Dick...he's an ordinary bloke and that was very cool.
2.I only spent 60.00 and that includes drinks for me and my friends,a T-shirt, a poster and a memory chip that cannot be denied-ever.Plus cab fare home, with tip.
3.I got to smack my friend with a poster and tell him to fuck off for ghosting me...the sorry bitch...but that is another story that I will keep to me self.
He is after all, my friend.
I leave you cross-eyed and pissing into the wind...good-night.

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

I got tickets for the SUBHUMANS show today!!!It's tomorrow night!!! I busted out my steel toe gripfast wingtips (burgundy and black) for the occasion.I've got the requisite black leather motorcycle jacket ready to roll. I've got the old worn in 501 levis and the black leather belt... the wallet chain...the black t shirt...the attitude. I'm gonna look like a fish out of water, probably. "whose that old guy poser"? or some such.......I'm 44 fucking years old for I care?No...I don't.I was there at the beginning.
I wish I could adequately explain to you what this band meant/means to me.
The other night I loaded up the cd player with their albums (see?) and hit shuffle and rode the wayback machine to another time...a time of passion,heart,anger,youth and disgust with the system.
I've been so busy living that I've forgotten how disgusted I am with the world I'm struggling to live in.I remember now...I'm not so slackjawed.
My hearts been beating a bit harder these days as I remember those days.
I can't wait.
And the tickets were only 10.00 each...true to the form.Take that, you fucking Rolling Stones.
I was out running a work errand today and had Rush rambling away for background noise (you must listen to the enemy to keep up with the bullshit sometimes) and he was blathering on about his usual pro republican horse shit when he said something that pricked my ear.
I don't have the exact quote,but it was something along the lines of Kerry and Clark trying to make Viet Nam an ISSUE for this election. I looked at my radio and said, huh? The scariest thing was it flowed of his oxycontin paste covered tongue like it was gospel,and I shuddered to think how many zombies out there were waiting on hold to cry mega dittos Rush...and equally concerned for the other dissidents like me monitoring this whore who just almost crashed into the car in front of them or shot coffee out of their noses.
Then he said the Wisconsin caucus meant nothing.
It's like I say about wrestling: People actually believe this shit is true????
Later,when I got home I was watching CNN's Anderson Cooper 360 (as my remote passed he was interviewing,I mean baiting, Kerry,so I lingered for a minute) and they were talking about Wisconsin as being very important...the question is this (actually 2 questions)- Which republican asshat puppet do you believe and how many ditto-heads are having a petite mal seizure right now?
Enough! On to gay marriage...
A long time ago...1990 I think,I went to the wedding of a friend and coworker,a woman.A lesbian.She was marrying her lover/companion,also a woman and -gee-a lesbian. It was presided over by a minister (I forget what denomination) and it was a very nice heartfelt ceremony,with gay and straight friends there enmasse to celebrate in the union of TWO PEOPLE WHO LOVE EACH OTHER.
Flash forward 14 years...they are still together and have 2 children by donor(s).
Imagine that...those two "deviants" are still together! Anybody who seriously thinks gay marriage is a threat to the so called sanctity of the moth eaten beat to shit institution that is hetero marriage needs an ass kicking.
These "deviants" I dare say, have set an example, and more power to them.

Monday, February 16, 2004

I saw a biography on the Fonda family recently which featured clips of her trip to Hanoi and all I can say is get the fuck over it already. She was against the war and used her means to publicize that fact,it blew up in her face.Those were emotional times.
I know...I was there for some of it.My Dad was a GI bill student at UT during the height of the protests against the war in Viet Nam...he was against it,and went to the marches on campus...he took me with him.He never explained this contradiction to his lifetime of service to the military,he didn't have to...he knew what I knew,the war in Viet Nam was wrong.
And wrong is wrong,no matter how you cut it up and rearrange it.
I'm sure alot of you have seen the picture of Kerry with Hanoi Jane at that rally...the one where he's 3 rows back and 4 people over.There's another one I saw today that was photoshopped...Jane's not in the picture really,she wasn't even there.
Expect to see more of this shit in the coming months,as the bushites try to undermine Kerry's campaign with their unique brand of horseshit and lies.
What's interesting to me is how successful will they be?Facts are facts after all, and they might be hard pressed to spin this anti-war radical thing they're trying to launch much farther than the toilet,where it belongs.
If they're not careful,it could work against them...even Colin Powell had nothing nice to say about chickenshit rich white punk ass chumps like bush who dodged the war using don't be careful george,ok?
Again,we confuse process with content and lose sight of what really matters.
We have a Hanoi Jane urinal sticker in the bathroom at work,and everytime I piss on Janes head I'm not thinking "you commie sympathizing bitch",I'm thinking,"you idiot,you married Ted Turner".

Sunday, February 15, 2004

When I was a teenager,everything was the youth culture I grew up in differences were settled in a decidedly less fatal way than of late.If you got into a fight,chances were slim to none you were gonna get shot...someone,on rare occasion would pull out a knife,but it was almost always a bluff.You threw down,someone got their ass beat and it was didn't have to worry about them driving by your house later and filling said house with lead and the smell of cordite.
STD's were similar....anything you got could be handled by a ten day run of antibiotics,it did'nt come back or morph into something that would kill you.
Simpler times for sure.All the girls were on the pill and the name of the game on weekends at the dillo was to get high,drink some beer,play some foosball and get laid.
When I was 15 I got the clap...the drip,the gift that keeps an giving. When I was sure I was afflicted I went down to the free clinic on the drag (which,interestingly enough,was the same church basement I did street outreach for the homeless youth of austin some 20 years later).Here I could get my pills without my parents finding out that I was -Gasp!-sexually active.
The line was a block long,full of people looking self conscious and was as if they were all trying to say with body language..."not me...I'm here with my friend".
I grew impatient at the wait and decided I would tell my dad and seek his advice in what to do.
The next day,on the way to school,we had the following conversation....
ME: "Dad"?
DAD:"Yes son"?
ME: "I think I have the clap".
DAD:"What kind of dirty holes have you been fucking around in"?!
ME:"Come on Dad...what am I gonna do"?
DAD: "I'll take care of it...DON'T TELL YOUR MOTHER".
End of discussion.
That saturday,under the guise of going on a rock hunting trip,we went to the walk in clinic at the air force base hospital.
I was in a room with probably 50 other people,there was a nurse at a desk in front of us,calling out names and doing the initial consultation.
She called my name...this was the exchange:
NURSE: ( Smiling,in a normal voice) "And what's your problem today,young man"?
ME: (In a whisper) "I think I have the clap".
NURSE: (Grimacing,in a loud voice) "You think you have a VENEREAL DISEASE"?!
ME: (Wishing I was invisible) "Yes".
I turned around to go back to my seat and EVERYONE else in the waiting room was staring at disgust...and suddenly feeling less critical about whatever ailment they had....that HIPPY has a VENEREAL DISEASE!
It was the most humiliating experience of my life and I wanted to run out of the clinic and disappear,but I was comitted,and my dick hurt.
The doctor I saw was an older Marcus Welby/Andy Griffith type who did a swab,confirmed what it was,handed me a script for amoxicillin and said (I swear)
"Now,don't go dippin' in till you've taken all these son" Patted me on the back and winked...swear to god,he fucking WINKED.
My dad poked at me some on the ride home but admonished me to be more cautious.The last thing he said was:
"Remember,DON'T tell your MOM".
I didn't have to...she did the laundry,she was a nurse,she figured it out.And she was mortified...and I was headed to prison...again.
She lightened up when she learned I was treating my affliction,and even hacked on me about it a little bit...she also admonished me to be cautious and gave me a little lecture about relationships...and you know what?
It was good advice.
Fevered ramblings
Hmmm, a large picture of a cute fluffy stuffed dog plus a confession that I enjoy such things. And I actually used the word "comfy" in that post. Eeeeww. It was either the fever or the NyQuil.

Saturday, February 14, 2004

Valentine's Day postponed...
Rob and I had some plans for V-day, but I just wasn't feeling up to it so we've postponed the celebration until next weekend. All the same, he has given me two gifts and a card today. No fair, since I haven't had a chance to get him anything. Here's the first one:

I have a collection of plush dog toys shaped like dogs (most of them from Hartz) which has gradually grown to include kids toys as well as dog toys. I was never a huge stuffed animal fan as a kid, but for some reason I really enjoy the dogs as an adult. I always stick one of them on my computer monitor (this is the monitor for the server, no way I could I use a 15 inch for daily work) and even took one of them up to my new job so I'd feel more comfy. I suppose the one at work could accidentally get used as the dog toy it's intended to be, but so far, so good and folks have left it up on the monitor.

Gift two:

A cool new dragon to add to that collection. Which reminds me of my post about February being "get rid of stuff" month. Well, so far we've not only failed to get rid of any stuff, we've actually ADDED to it. We got four new dining room chairs, but we didn't get rid of the old ones because those were folding chairs we pulled out one by one as the old chairs broke. Actually, I think that means the new chairs don't count as an addition since we DID get rid of the original broken chairs. All the same, nothing has been thrown out this month as of yet.

We had an unusual event this morning - SNOW! It doesn't snow very often in Austin and when it does, it's normally just a light dusting and this was no different. I was bummed that I was too sick to go out and frolic in it with the dogs because I think I could have managed to gather up enough to make a few snowballs to throw at them. They managed to have a good time without me and probably wouldn't have appreciated the snowballs anyway :)

I'm just laying low this weekend, trying to get well. I did have to find a new auto insurance policy today and I feel so ripped off over the price of car insurance. I seem to remember being promised that rates would go down if everyone was REQUIRED to have car insurance, but my experience has been that rates have gone through the roof. I've tended to place the blame on our crappy credit rating since that's now used as a factor in determining rates which is something I'm not very happy about. I haven't had a ticket or an at-fault accident since 1976 and that was only because I hadn't learned yet that '67 Ford Galaxies have "blind spots". And I haven't been hit by someone else since 1979. What the fuck does my credit rating have to do with it? Plus, I learned today that our credit rating is considered to be "above average". I don't see how one can possibly have worse credit than we do, but apparently over half the population does. My deepest sympathy to those folks who surely must NEVER answer their phone due to non-stop collection calls. Since I must have insurance in this state to drive a car, I coughed up $900 for a six-month policy for our two vehicles. Ouch. If Austin would ever get public transportation in place that could get me where I wanted to go in a reasonable amount of time, then I'd waste no time getting rid of one of our cars.

The new job is going well. I wish I hadn't been sickly this week because I would have enjoyed it even more. The only negative I can come up with is that things are a bit confusing at times and communication between staff could be improved, but what job doesn't have those as issues? That's pretty much a given no matter where you work. I had to laugh yesterday when a client who knows me personally called and remarked how cheerful I sounded on the phone. Well, that's my "customer voice" and I've endured a fair amount of teasing over the years from friends and family about it. It's a bit higher in pitch than I normally talk because I always smile and that makes me sound cheerful even if I'm freezing my ass off in a cold office with a head full of snot. The first comments I remember about this were from friends when I worked the drive-though window at Wendy's as a teenager, so I'm not sure when I learned this trick. It certainly wasn't ever a part of "on the job training". Summer drama classes, perhaps? But try it with any sentence. Say it normally, then say it with a smile. If you're like me, then the pitch will be higher when you smile and even the emphasis on words may be different. It's a handy trick if you want to sound cheerful on a Monday morning when you have a hangover :)
I think it was the cheech and chong movie nice dreams where cheech found himself in a security room in a straight jacket and he couldn't scratch his balls...scooting across the cell like a dog with round worms screaming:"HEYYYYYYY!!!!My balls itch" in a most plaintive was fucking hilarious,and resonated with me in several ways.
The psych hospital setting...the itchy balls...the inability to do anything about it.Was he trying to make a statement? Probably not...but it was funny in a futile sort of way.
And that's how I feel about the current political situation in this country.
Ann is sick today,so we didn't do the usual brunch thing at Maudies....the alternate brunch is I go there,have a couple,order some food to go,and while waiting visit with the other regulars at the bar.One of the regulars is a political consultant,and we had a lengthy conversation about the nature of politics...he used lots of euphemisms like "show biz tatics" and "card tricks" to describe the nature of the politicing of the day....Simply put,it's all bullshit.
The republicans have it down when it comes to manipulating voters and votes...the know what works because the majority of republicans (who vote) are in lock step with the conventional wisdom/dogma of the current republican party line of shit.
Democrats are busy chasing multiple similar,but subtly different lines of shit that make it impossible to get all the dems in line to vote the same way.The republicans don't have this problem...everyone who votes is likely towing the same narrow lines the partie's supporting,they consolidate and bring out those voters while the dems swim around in a pool of similar yet different ideaology and most are so conflicted,they don't vote.The result? the republicans win,every least recently.They are pros at playing the spread.
Clinton won,I believe,because the country finally got tired of reagan and bush sr. and wanted something different...the repubs beat clinton down from day unrelenting asssault on his character,his policies and everything else (I mean,come on...who doesn't like head?) until the dems were so shamed and the repubs so emboldened that they could get away with the great rip off that resulted in a chimp being our appointed president....lock step politics...again.
The last election and the running up to this one reminds me of junior high school,where you have all the grown up parts but aren't sure what to do with them.
And the popular kids will decide who wins.
This is not junior high.Grow up.Seriously.
And while your at it ,scratch my balls.

Friday, February 13, 2004

Janets "dirty pillow", I mean... This is just ridiculous, every time I pull up a news website there it is,in all it's be-jeweled glory,half the time that slackjawed white boy is in the shot and you can just hear him going "Gnahhhhhh!It's JANET JACKSONS TIT"! ENOUGH! If it's so horrible-QUIT SHOWING IT TO US!!!!!!
Which brings me to what's really going on in the world. As Kerry advances through the caucuses,the republican party gears up. They respond to the ongoing questions of W's service in the guard (i.e.: his (lack of) character) by having that 16 ounce vial of chimp semen in a fedora (drudge) post some "breaking" story about some woman "ushered" out of the country by Kerry.Has Rush lost so much credibility via his drug abuse that the repubs are relying on a man I wouldn't piss on if he was on fire to spread the lies and bullshit in a lame attempt to discredit a man who actually served his country and has the scars to prove it? The answer is apparently yes.
You've got bunnypants following the democratic caucuses around trying to undermine the process and turn around his declining numbers...good luck asswipe...your numbers aren't falling just because of the competition.Theyr'e falling because you are a miserable excuse for a can try to play it anyway you want,but the fact remains:YOU SUCK as a president,you SUCKED as a governor and you SUCKED at everything you ever did before that...YOU are a LOSER.
Unfortunately,you are a LOSER with connections,and that is the only thing that makes you a credible threat...that and the fact that there are alot of people living in this country who are as fucked up as you are and actually enjoy the smoke you blow up their asses.
When the issue of character comes up what are we really dealing with? Bush's character is obviously flawed...the drugs,the chickenhawkism,the fact that he is a Bush brings his character into question.How does he respond to this?He refuses to address it...nothing to see here,move on...this is fucking crazy...what's crazier is the number of people who are accepting this "look over there" response to this obvious bullshit...if this trend continues,we won't have to worry about outside elements destroying us,we'll do it ourselves,thank you very much.
Now to Kerry...He served,he was decorated for his service to the country.He undoubtedly saw some horrible shit and killed some people for his country.He came home and protested the war.A war that everyone but the most myopic concede was wrong from the get go.To me,this is do the right thing,realize the wrongness of it,and point it out.He was right AND wrong and he tried to make amends when he realized how wrong the "right" thing was.
Bush wriggling out of Nam is not so much an issue for me...lots of privileged people pulled the same strings to avoid service...and though that automatically and forever makes them pussies in my book...they had the means to pull it off and they did.
What matters to me is WHAT you do after you dodge a bullet like Viet owe something to the world in exchange for a pass like that. Their are people of privilege and means with HEART (Clinton) and spoiled little pieces of shit that never look back (Bush) and look at their station in life as a permanent pass to be a major fuck up all your life AND get paid for it...handsomely.
A friend of mine was talking about his vote in the upcoming election...he said he was prepared to vote twice, and then just smiled.
Now,I would never vote like this (he wouldn't either...I think) but you have to wonder how many other people are feeling the same kind of desperation?
I'm not convinced Kerry is the right choice,but he's a better choice than the "war president" we have now.
Here comes president kill again.........
Where the blood pours out at the end of the day,and when the usual amount of people have died,sit back and watch the death and decay-it's a dying world...

Next wed. I'll be strolling down memory lane with my absolutely most favorite punk band of ALL time....The Subhumans, not the canadian subhumans,the real honest to god SUBHUMANS!!!!see dick and jasper They are playing here in austin! At EMOS (the closet thing to a genuine punk club since the clubfoot days)
I have listened to these guys since 82 or 83 as they progressed from a 3 (2?) chord vessel of anger to an odd melding of punk,reggae with a bit of 70's rock and roll thrown in for good measure...they even did a concept album called "From the cradle to the grave" whole side dedicated to one whole life lived in england.
I'm almost giddy I tell ya!
Just checking in
I wrote a nice long post last night about how well things were going with my new job despite having caught a cold (probably from some snotty kid on the bus), but Blogger ate it. No hope of recreating it this morning while I'm tyring to get out the door in time to get to work by seven, seven-thirty in the morning so I'll just have to wave hello and try and catch up this weekend.

Thursday, February 12, 2004

I will never subject myself to 4 hours of tattooing again...when your body endures this much trauma it gets freaked out and sends multiple choice messages to fuck with your brain.
I have been inflicting this on myself for over 20 years and should be used to it...but I'm not.
Old conventional wisdom: Leave the fresh tat covered for 16 to 24 hours,after which rinse clean with a gentle soap and clean up to three times daily followed by a thin layer of antibiotic ointment.
New conventional wisdom: Remove bandage after 2 hours,take a hot soak to let the blood escape.Do not use antibiotic ointment...cover with a thin layer of lotion for 7 days.
wisdom that has not changed: Do not soak or otherwise cause the scab to come off too soon,it will fall off "by itself" in 7 to 14 days......
What they don't tell you: If you have tattooed a large area of your body you will experience discoloration of the surrounding skin,swelling and edema,redness that you cannot differentiate:Am I infected or just beat to shit? should I use antibiotic to stave off infection or just stick with the lotion and hope my (insert appendage here) doesn't fall off? Am I just being a pussy?Why am I having shooting pains and spontaneous unexplained itching and twitching?
It's just your body saying it doesn't appreciate being drilled by an 18 mag shader...which,head on looks something like this:
add another row of 6 to that, and that's how many needles are running over your SHIN BONE at a high rate of speed....pushing in ink...invading your space on a level beyond personal.You never get used to it...never.
My parents didn't have a lot of money,but I never wanted for anything.My mom's attitude was "if you've got power,heat and food in the pantry,what are you complaining about"?
This little gem has served me well over the years...believe me.
When I was in nursing school I had a hoopty '68 volkswagon beetle that personified death morning on the way to anatomy lab I got cut off just before my exit off the freeway.I did a quick swerve into the off ramp, a short steep one with a sharply angled embankment adjoining it (for those of you familiar with Austin,northbound 6-12th exit).The ramp was backed up to the feeder lane and I slammed on my brakes to hopefully not rear end the car at the end of the line. My right rear brake locked up,I jumped the curb and skidded about 40 feet out onto this steep embankment,stopping at an impossible angle.Had it not been a beetle (wide wheel base) I'm sure I would have rolled down the embankment onto the car first in line.
After about 5 minutes, I opened my door. 5 minutes later I grabbed my backpack and bailed out,fully expecting the car to free roll down the embankment killing did not.
I walked to school shaking like Catherine Hepburn and I as soon as I got to the lounge I mom.
I related my brush with death,and after a couple of shots about why I bought that damn car in the first place (it was after all a GERMAN car)...she said she would talk to my dad and I should come by that evening.
When I got to my parents house (my house now,but that's another story) there was an unfamiliar van in the driveway parked in front of my dads subaru.
My mom talked about how it was important for me to have safe,reliable transportation and gave me the keys to dads subaru (I guess the japanese got a pass for WWII :) ).
The van was dads new car...they never said,but I'm sure this is how it went down:
mom: "Bobby...Rob was almost killed today in that demon-german death trap he drives".
dad: "Well,what should we do"? (mental image of van he's been eyeing)
mom: "Can we afford to help him out with a used car"?
dad: "Well,honey,there's this van.....".
And there you have diplomacy in action.
Everybody wins.
My parents provided for me when I needed it most,and later in life I returned the favor.
I managed to replace our suckassnation comments with the new and hopefully,improved haloscan without wasting the whole friggin' template.YAY!!!!

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

I've been thinking about my parents lately...not in that grieving the passing sort of way.Just remembering them at different stages of my life.
My mother and father met while my dad was stationed in England after the war,they married there in a bombed out church and came to America.
My mom never lost her north country accent,or her north country ways.She was a 4' 11" red haired ball of fire that you never wanted to back into a corner. She was a nurse in England during the war and the bombings and the battle of Britain...decorated even,with the Winston Churchill medal of ?,I don't remember exactly what it was for,but I know it involved the evacuation of a school play ground after an attack.
These experiences no doubt shaped who my mother was and it in turn effected the way she raised me...self reliant,brave and proud (even though I was technically half english,that was good enough...I was bloody english and I knew it).
My dad was raised on the east coast,his parents died within 3 months of each other when he was 16 (my mom insisted his dad died of a broken heart,to which my dad would roll his eyes and sigh).After this he joined the Navy and then the air force where he remained for 27 years. Captain of the football team,sailor,soldier,lifer,but the most laid back and sensitive man I have ever known.And his primary message to me throughout my life was to do the right thing no matter what the cost.
Back in 1975 we were living in the country that is now the blight they refer to as westlake hills...I was a 14 year old hair farming pot head,as was my neighbor friend who had the great fortune to live in a small airstream like trailer behind his parents house.This was the party pad.And party we did.One night me and my friend and another friend were hanging out in the trailer listening to Neil Youngs "Harvest" and smoking out.The stereo was a fold up phonograph courtesy of the high school library that we just kept checking out until they forgot about it.So,we're jamming to Neil and rolling joints like there's no tomorrow (2 zig-zag wheatstraw papers stuck together,with the execution of the roll flat on the table-neanderthals!),and there's a knock at the door.
I open the door and release a chernobyl sized cloud of pot smoke into the face of my dad and my neighbors dad...busted!
We thought we were done for until we saw the beer bottles they were holding and my dad said something to the effect of "we know you guys are smoking grass in there and want to prove to you it isn't cool,so we're coming in to prove it". (translation: we have a beer buzz and want to take advantage of catching you so we can smoke all your pot and get away with it on the guise of some twisted paradox type 70's psychological "intervention").
Us: "It's on!"
We smoked about a 1/2 an ounce that night-WITH OUR DADS!- Neil played over and over,my dad taught me how to roll a proper "cigarette" with one paper,in the air with my fingers (a feat which gave me tremendous cred with my pot head buddies at school). They dropped wisdom on us about life.It was,at that time,the most amazing thing that had ever happened to dad was COOL.
Then we went home and sat at the kitchen table and ate the whole humpty-dumpty cookie jar full of brownies giggling like school girls.My mom watched us from the hallway and knew what we had been up to...she didn't talk to either of us for days,and when she finally did it was about how I would end up in prison if I stayed to my ways and my dad couldn't prove a point if his life depended on it.
She was wrong.
My mom taught me to be proper...taught me manners,how to behave,how to be strong.
My dad taught me how to be in the world,and the fact that I was smoking weed didn't make me special,he taught me this lesson over and over again about other things besides smoking pot,and in the end he wasn't so much cool,he was human,real...and he was my dad.
I miss them both very much.
I just read Special K's post about friends...specifically,friends in real life and here on the simplify.And by simplify I mean SIMPLIFY.
Seriously though,to be honest,I am a forty something conservative...never had a tattoo,a piercing or an impure thought...I just write this shit to make you THINK I am a...a...what?
I'm just me,and I strive to be honest about who that is,to my friends in the here and now(which is austin and my daily life) and the people who read about my experiences here at this blog.
I read other people's stuff for fun,some of it sucks to me and I don't read it again (or very often) some people I read because they are like a car wreck online,and I am fascinated with their willingness to expose so much about themselves to strangers...especially the sex stuff (just kidding).Some people I read because they strike a our Special K...funny,spontaneous...someone you would be proud to call friend...internet or otherwise.
If you ever find yourself in Austin,look us up...we would love to buy you a rocks-no salt.

Tuesday, February 10, 2004

Another dreary Austin winter day,raining just enough all day to make it really spicy driving to and from work. Speaking of driving to work...we are currently a one vehicle family and now that Ann is employed,we have to get ready for work in the morning-at the same time.
I am not a morning fact,when I wake up,I suffer from a kind of transient retardation...if I deviate from my routine,bad things can happen...forgetting the phone,the work keys...really minor stuff,but in the early hours,are akin to the greatest atrocities known to man.And they result in a tourettes-styled utterance of profanities.
I don't like to talk in the other people I mean, on the way to work I talk to myself,I talk to the assholes on the am radio talk show I listen to,and I talk to other drivers on the road (even though I know they can't hear me)-refer to tourettes-styled utterances for content.
I stop at the 7-11 and get my coffee,and by the time I get to the shop the retardation has usually receded and I can engage socially-grumpily-but socially.
Now that Ann is riding with me in the morning,I find myself in the unique situation of having to converse,the subjects no longer limited to my growly comments to other drivers about how lucky they are I don't have a concealed carry permit (yet).
I'm sure I'll adjust,and anyway,soon we will have both vehicles running again and I can resume my rainman impersonation unfettered.
The work day dragged on...and on. We continue adjusting to our new system. I was off last thurs. and fri. and had a PILE of purchase orders that needed to be entered.Plus the purchase order from our early buy for this year (about 15 or 20 pages of items,single spaced).
The warehouse manager and I decided I would take the pile and he would take the early buy-since those items are common and it would be easier for him to get used to the new he encountered the numerous bugs,he would come to me for help,I would explain the bug and he would move on...3 hours later and 6 pages of entering completed,he became so frustrated he closed the document...without saving it...POOF!All gone!Go back to start!HAHAHA! said his,normally,this would be followed by the most vile profanities,screamed at the top of his lungs in the warehouse,where he thinks we can't hear...we can,and in some twisted way it's endearing..."oh,isn't that cute ****'s going off again".Not this time,he was beaten...completely,utterly beaten.It was truely a sad sight to see.
It was still raining when I headed home,when it rains in Austin two things happen:
1.people get really fucking stupid and:
2.they crash into each other.
So it was death race 2000 through downtown for my afternoon commute...with the radio blaring the play by play every 10 and traffic..."it's still raining and people are really fucking stupid and,in fact,there are 5 more wrecks to report....."
It's suppose to rain all week...god help me.

Saturday, February 07, 2004

Tattoos and me (or should that be Tattoos and I?)
Some of you may have noticed that Rob has a lot of tattoos. I, however, have only one at the moment. It's an ankle band tattoo that I got for our wedding after I had a dream about it. In my mind, it's my wedding ring, and far better than the silver kladdagh finger ring that I frequently can't wear because of my arthritis. If my ankle starts to swell up, I don't have to take the tattoo off. Folks may protest and say, "What if you get divorced?". Well, I suppose anything is possible, but divorce wouldn't erase the fact that I was married. I was married and divorced once before I met Rob. I could have easily had that first marriage annulled via the Catholic Church due to the reasons for the civil divorce (I was raised and married as a Catholic), but I decided not to do so. The marriage was real, it was valid, and it was a part of my life for nine long years. I decided instead to leave the Catholic church - fuck you; I don't agree with your stance on divorce, birth control, abortion or a large number of other issues so why the hell hang around anymore? But I've never joined another denomination. Maybe it's true that once a Catholic, always a Catholic because I just can't get into the lack of ritual these other churches offer. I have no desire to go sit in some church where the time is divided between the choir singing and some preacher expounding HIS interpretation of the Bible and exhorting me to go "minister" to others. In my mind, religion/spiritually is very personal thing and not something you go about cramming down other people's throats. But I digress, this post is supposed to be about tattoos. I generally group tattooed people into two categories - those who get one and never get another and those who get one and never stop. Rob would be the second category and while one would think that I fell into the first category, that's not true at all. I have rather elaborate plans for my back and my arms. It just hasn't ... umm... "gelled" yet. You see, I have a concept, but I don't have all the pieces in place yet. I know a few of the specifics - an oak tree split by lightning (my friend Cris will get that one), a stone tower on a rocky island or islet, something from the sky attacking something from the ocean, and without going into more detail, it's all very symbolic. I'm sure Hez could come up with a great piece even from my vaguest description, but I want all of the pieces to mean something very specific. No one is going to put ink on my body unless it represents some important part of my life. Plus, I'd like it all to be a part of some coherent whole picture, much like we'd all like our real lives to be, and this is the inherent flaw in my plan. As humans, we rarely have the whole picture of what is going on, the whys or why nots of what going on in the big picture of things. I don't want to fill up my back completely with symbolisms today, because I hope, I have at least 20 more years of life experiences to chronicle. So the dilemma is, what do I ink today and where do I leave space for what happens tomorrow and how do I tie this all into a coherent piece down the road? I don't have the answer for that yet and therefore, I don't have anymore tattoos right now.
All this flap about Janet flapping at the super bowl has overshadowed (seemingly) everything else thats going on in the world these the war on terror,I am mortified that the american public can so quickly shift it's attention from an impending global apocalypse to the breast of a waning pop icon at the blink of an eye.
The media would lead you to believe that a cinnamon tit is somehow more outrageous than the death and destruction going on around the the clock in two countries (that we know about)...if Janet flopped her tit out in a gas station bathroom alone with me,that would be I would be hard pressed to not have a hysterical reaction to.
Something else that bothers me...That USA network movie about the Laci Peterson case..."the perfect husband" or whatever it's called...the media has made a movie about a case THAT HASN'T EVEN BEEN TRIED YET.What the FUCK??????
I mean,sure,it looks like he did it...but maybe it was really a satanist cult or homeless perverts or catholic priests on a rampage or garden gnomes on viagra...the point is,we don't know for sure if he killed his wife...shit,we don't know anything for sure about this case.It's been granted a change of venue because of the media...and in response a leg of the media makes a fucking movie about it? With Dean Cain????
Not only tasteless,but cheap....dean,get a grip buddy,are you really that hard up?There is no artistic argument for participating in this bullshit.You should already be ashamed of your past efforts(superman,in particular) but this effort warrants self immolation at the very least.
I remember when vultures would circle until the prey was dead.
We've subverted the true nature of vultures with this one....who'd of figured...proactive vultures.
What does this say about us?
I'm ashamed of us.
I love my new job
I love my new job and here's proof. I was at the office this morning, on a SATURDAY, at the ungodly hour of 6:30 in the morning. I wasn't asked to do this nor was I "expected" to do this. No, I volunteered. And trust me, if was I working for a company such as WalMart, then someone would have had to threaten me with death before I'd drag my ass out of bed that early on a Saturday. "Fuck you, fire me!" would be a likely response because I am not naturally a "morning person". I can, through effort and planning, transform myself into a "morning person" if circumstances require, but those circumstances had damn well better be worth it. I have been know to pop out of bed at 4:30 in the morning on a Saturday to hit the road for an weekend camping trip, but I really can't think of any other reason that would compel me to to do that. But this job... yeah, I've only been there a week, but... this is a place worth getting out of bed that early on a Saturday morning.

PS - Yes, they have an answer for my dog Theo's button fetish. Free advice is an employee perk and when you have three dogs, that's a nice perk.

Friday, February 06, 2004

Not really...but close.I got tattooed today...for 4 hours. The last time I spent this much time under the machine I ended up puking my guts out all over the alley next to the Chili parlor! Not exactly the kind of advertisement a place wants. No puking this time,thank god...last time there were lots of reds and yellows...over and over and this (for reasons I will spare you) led to the puking.
I'm doing an ocean theme on my right leg... some stuff was already there (turtles,skulls,sacred heart)...but the squid and all the water and sea floor stuff is new...lots of people have squids,and they invariably end up colored and shaded not unlike a vagina...I went with the mottled vagina patina just to be different.
I'll be back in 2 weeks time to finish's a picture:

Work is by Hez.....who did my other leg.

Thursday, February 05, 2004

No tuck and roll upholstery for me in the near future
I just caught our dog Theo trying to remove one of the buttons off the seat cushion of one of our brand new dining room chairs. Theo is a dog who thinks one of the coolest things in the world is to remove the button off the top of any baseball cap that Rob inadvertently leaves within his reach. I didn't make the connection between buttons on the top of baseball caps with buttons on chair seat covers, but Theo certainly wasted no time in discovering them. Jeez, I have a dog with a button fetish. I wonder if the dog training place I work for has a treatment program for that? If not, at least we found out about it before we bought a new couch.
New job, new routine.
I'm working early hours right now for training purposes. I have to be there at 7:30 in the morning which translates to setting the alarm clock for 4:30 in the morning. It's been a great number of years since I've had to do that and I'm not adjusting very quickly. Oh, I manage to get my ass out of bed by 5:00 or so, but it's a struggle to be functional enough to turn on the heat, make the coffee and shower. You see, in the winter time, my body reverts back to some ancient genetic imprint in my cells that remembers we were once reptiles and decides that if the temperature is under 50 degrees, then it must move slowly. If it's 40 degrees then it must move VERY slowly. And if it's 30 degrees, then it must not move AT ALL. The mammalian brain knows this is all a bunch of crock and so it starts shouting at the body to get a move on. All that shouting in my head is what usually manages to propel my ass out of bed since I can't continue to sleep with all the racket going on in there. I then inch my way towards the bathroom and crank up the gas heater (shutting the door so it will get toasty in there after about 30 minutes), inch my way into the office to start up the under-desk heater to get the desk area warm and then inch my way back towards the kitchen to get the coffee going. The first two cups of the twelve cups of coffee is usually in the pot after about 10 minutes (provided I remember to plug the damn thing in) and I go grab it even though it's the strong, bitter first bit that's supposed to be mellowed out by the brewing of the next 10 cups. I like my coffee strong, but Rob likes his weak. Or rather, I should say Rob likes his coffee to be "normal" strength and so this is a good way to compromise on the weekends when Rob drinks coffee. He doesn't drink coffee at home during the week, but it's too hard for me to remember different brewing instructions at that ungodly hour of the morning and so I make the pot the same way. The next twenty minutes are spent reading my email or blogs and drinking coffee, though I never remember anything I read and I'll have to read it all again later. After the bathroom is warmed up, I'll go stand and waste water for the 5 minutes or so that it takes for hot water to reach the shower (it has to warm up the pipes in the attic first) and then attempt to get my hair and body washed without using up all the hot water since Rob will shower next. If all goes well, I'll finish up and be dressed by 6:00, which gives me time to play with the hyperactive dog (Sullivan) before we lock him up in a room for the rest of the day. Rob will get up at some point, take his shower, get dressed and we'll be out the door by ten minutes to seven. On a perfect day, we will not have had any conversational interaction during this time because that's downright dangerous. This is the only time that Rob and I will snarl, snap and otherwise act like the usual married couple. We've avoided this confrontation for the last several years by having different schedules, but fate has cursed us at the moment. It's only been two days and while there's been no ugliness yet, I know it's lurking there, waiting to happen. Been there, done that and thankfully Rob and I both have the same problem so we can just laugh it off later provided we've made the required apology phone call sometime after nine in the morning.
When I was growing up I was energetic, daydreaming was my favorite activity, I had a wild imagination and would sometimes get so wound up it was hard for me to focus.
When my son was growing up, he was all of these things.
I was labeled a "boy" and appropriate measures were taken to channel my boyish energy at home and at school that enabled me to get through school and make my way into the world as an adult with a reasonable amount of success,using my imagination and energy to further myself.
My son,on the other hand,was labeled ADHD (attention deficit hyperactive disorder) and placed on ritalin initially and then other drugs designed to combat this menace I will refer to as "boyitis" for the rest of this post.
This placed a stigma on him from grade school on...a giant red letter on him that caused his teachers to 1) assume the worse and 2) react accordingly...which means they predisposed him as a "problem" and made his life miserable,punishing him for being born a boy.
His mother (bitch) was/is a teacher in the very district he was "educated" in,and because of this she was able to get him a special designation in the district that amplified this stigma...I don't recall what the real designation was...R-17 or something...but it amounted to an immediate almost global reaction from his teachers when he walked into class the first day:"here comes trouble".
And even though he was a bright,likeable kid,he couldn't win in school...I can't tell you the frustration I would feel at conferences about him...I would say my piece and would be responded to in that patronizing psycho-babble/teacher speak about how deluded I was in thinking that my son was normal and they must be doing something wrong...after all,he's an R-17...don't you get it?Maybe he needs a higher dose.
No,he doesn't...what he needs is for you people to do your FUCKING JOBS...that's what I wanted to say,but I didn't.
I don't look like the typical person who spent almost all of his adult life working in treatment centers and hospitals...most of these people probably thought I was a tattoo artist or a musician or a career criminal (it was kind of fun for me to see the looks on these asshats faces when they would meet me,some would literally bristle with fear).
But when I revealed my vocation and started asking the hard questions they would invariably choke and the conference would deteriorate into a bunch of bullshit assurances and my son would get a walk,until the next time.
When I was growing up people responded to my needs and helped me navigate the hell that is "boyitis".
My son was labeled and stigmatised..thanks to his mother (bitch) and a system designed to educate but ultimately discriminate.
To his credit,he survived.And I can attest to the ones who didn't and ended up in my care...stripped of their worthiness,beaten down by the system.
Yeah...right...fuck you.

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

As in "as useful as". And no, I'm not referring to Janet Jackson's premiere during the super bowl...if I was I would of said something like "ummmm...chocolate".However,in reference to justin timberlake , this statement would fit perfectly.
I did not watch the SB,I do not like football,I'm a baseball kind of guy and don't even follow that anymore.My favorite sport is war movies.
I am referring to people who serve no definable purpose, in life or in the workplace. Currently we have no one who warrants the statement working with us...but we have in the past. It is a long list,and I won't subject you to the length of it.
What I really want to do is elaborate on the company's phones and the ringtone options...which are as useful as tits on a boar hog...a phone should ring like a phone should ring...I mean "b'ring-b'ring" ringing.
The work day is punctuated by distinctive phone chirps like a cricket,another phone cackles like a chicken,yet another plays a horrible MIDI equivalent to flight of the Valkyrie...a car horn in traffic...ode to joy...coke addled seedy!...dueling banjos replete with mooing cows and pig squeals.Oh,I can't forget the william tell overture,also in rip out your eyes midi format.
You can even assign different rings for different people,when my boss calls me I hear flight of the Valkyrie...a perverse homage to apocalypse now/impending doom.
Initially this was it's just fucking annoying,like I said: a phone should ring.
If I could customize a ringtone,it would say asshat over and over,gradually getting louder and louder,just because I think asshat is the funniest word-ever.
Thank you Jane(@social reject),for turning me and my friends on to the joy that is asshat,it is hands down the most used adjective at work these days:)
In closing, a total leap of subject(?) betraying my "adult" ADD (more on this later,unless I get distracted):
What happened to the "joementum" ? hahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaa! See ya!
talk about tits on a boar hog....

Tuesday, February 03, 2004

As I was driving into work this morning,or,as I prefer to call it my morning game of dodge car,my phone rang.Well,"rang" doesn't really describe it,it makes noises like crickets even though it's called cicada...if it really sounded like cicadas it would be awesome,but as it is it is less than annoying than the other ringtone choices for this particular phone...but more about that later.
It was our (currently ill) general manager informing me in that froggy sick voice that he would be in, but later in the morning around 10. He sounded like shit,but ok man,see you at 10.
At 9:30 he called to say that his left ear had "shut down" and he wouldn't be coming after biggie,it was cold and dreary to austin standards,and it would be slow.
Wrong...horribly general george custer wrong.It was a fucking madhouse all-day-long.
The office phone and my mobile rang constantly... many of my coworkers are either afraid of the phone,are above the phone or have a particular form of autism that filters out the phone.So the bulk of the calls fall on myself and two other brave souls who aren't afraid to deal with customers.
People were in and out of the store in an endless stream...customers,sales reps,office reps...our technicians and support staff, and they all wanted to talk to me.My coffee got cold,my breakfast taco got cold,every time I tried to steal away for a quick smoke,the phone would ring or somebody else would pull up in the parking lot. Here's a sample event:
ME: Can I help you? (phone ringing off the wall)
CUSTOMER: We need light feekstures.(still ringing)
ME: Bulbs or complete fixtures?(STILL ringing,multiple lines ringing in)
CUSTOMER : feekstures.(PA announcing I have a call on line one, two technicians approach the counter,stand next to the customer and stare at me like my dogs do when they want a treat)
ME: What kind of fixtures are they?(PA annoucing I have a call on line two,line one is still holding,the technicians are shifting impatiently on their feet and my cell phone starts chirping at me)
CUSTOMER: Silence ( adopting the deer in the headlights stare)-(phone is still ringing, I take line one and my cell is now announcing a voicemail AND starts chirping at me technician realizes he is not the center of the universe and retreats,the other is holding fast and probably calculating the time left before I start shooting)
ME:(step out from behind the counter to play fixture show and tell with my now mute confused looking customer,figure out what they need.remaining tech is following me around the showroom ,I ignore him) How long of a cord do you need?
CUSTOMER: -unintelligible-feet.
ME: How many feet? (repeat three or four times until I write down the possibilities on a piece of paper and make him point...think to myself "learn english!" immediately followed by "time to bust out the spanish CD's again" vague feelings of guilt wash over me...Phone is STILL ringing)
AAAAUUUUGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!MULTI-TASKING SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As I mentioned in a past post,we have switched over to a new accounting system (it still sucks).It is now in "full" operation...we have officially stopped using our old,less sucky system in tandem with it,it is stand alone (albiet with braces and a walker).
I have a week or so lead on the learning curve for it so interject into the above numerous intercom requests to come sort something out for some of my coworkers and the frequent "god damnit! you piece of shit" and other like comments emanating through the walls.People hurling abuse at their computers and looking to be on the verge of a psychotic episode.
Invoicing and purchase orders are a particular challenge, for example:
with the old system you would enter part number xyz into the screen and part number xyz would appear as a line item. With the new system xyz gets you a "that is not an inventory item,would you like to add it to inventory?".NO!!!I don't want to add it to the inventory...because it's ALREADY THERE! you retarded cousin of the system I've grown to love. If you put in xyz00000000000000000000000000 it comes up.
abc5 and abc50 are two different items,factor in the zeros and they are the same...really,observe:
abc5000000000000000000 and abc5000000000000000000. we have achieved symbiosis,and the system has a knack for defaulting to the opposite item you want to enter.
Isn't that cute? NO! It's not.And while I have had a week or so to adjust,my coworkers are just discovering the new found joy of trading your computer in for an abacus and you can imagine the resulting angst and tumult.
On a quieter day,the angst and rumination would have been amusing...not today.
We will be over this in a few weeks,but right now we are somewhere around the 6th level of hell.