Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

I’m never listening to my mother again.  Seriously, next time she tells me which road to take, I’m going the other way.  Even if there isn’t an other way.

Scene: Me (the driver who hates driving large cars, like our shiny new SUV), Mum (le genius).

Mum: I want you to be careful, go slowly, and take old highway 99 (the highway in use before the shiny I-5 freeway) so that you don’t have to deal with other traffic.
Me: Right-o. *grabs keys, kisses mum and heads off to go grocery shopping before heading home*

An hour later…

Me: *happily having a ciggy while listening to George Carlin on my Ipod, watching the dark, dark road when all of a sudden OMGDEER!* Ohhhh shite! *slams on brakes and gets to know my seatbelt up close and personal*
Deer: OMGCar! *dashes*

Deer meet front bumper, front bumper meet deer.

Neck pain, meet vicodin!

OW! Fucking hell it still hurts. And the whole half an hour drive home I was flipping out that I not only damaged our shiny new car…but our insurance lapsed TODAY because we can’t find 70$ for the payment. I get to McDonalds and pull in to get dinner and see how dead I am…

Not a flipping scratch ANYWHERE on the front and side where I hit the deer. And I know I hit the deer, I felt it! Hell, I’m still feeling it.

In other news, Mum was transfered to Rouge River, down south from here by about…two hours. So I can’t visit her again, but I get to talk to her. It’s said to be a good place, so I’m happy with that. And…slightly happy I can’t visit her because things aren’t going well between us. She’s blaming me still, partially, about her depression (because I bitch and moan about being sick…it’s what I do, damnit! I complain and I like complaining!), and in addition to that, she’s still being rather verbally abusive to me, taking out her anger and frustration about things on me, yet whining when I get pissed off (and rightly so I think) about the fact I’m paying her the equivalent of 470$ without seeing a dime returned, even when she all but swears on her life she will pay me back. I know she’s my mum and some things should slide, but…I would kind of like to have a freaking dollar to myself to be able to buy a new book or SOMETHING!

Arg, and speaking of that, she did it AGAIN! I had fifty dollars left over after covering my bills and rent, fifty dollars that I was putting aside for her christmas gift (she wants a new vaccum…and I want to buy her a good one because she always buys them second hand or way too cheap and for once she deserves a decent one since that’s all she wants for Christmas).

Anyway, I’ve been holding that money hostage, even though I’ve been dying for a new book for about six months now (haven’t had one for about a year, but it’s only been recently that I’ve been craving a new one). And what does she do? Ask (more like demand) I use the money to pay our phone bill (and internet), because she can’t fucking figure out why a budget is a good idea, and can’t afford it.

I’m getting so fucking sick of this. I really, really am.

…and my neck hurts! *cries*

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

So mum and I are poor…this is not news. To supplument the 108$ I get in foodstamps, we run by the local food bank once a month. The problem with this is, more often then not, we have to throw out the food we get from them either the day of, or within a few (like three) days, because the food is molded (mostly the bread products and sometimes the dairy, canned food is not molded, but one can not live by green beans alone).

So after about a year of this (lazy, the name is Saity) and many times of discussing this matter with the food bank and other patrons, I write my usual letter to the editor.

…only this time it’s rejected as a ‘personal issue’.

Er…what?

So, I write the Opinion Editor back, a long letter indicating we’ve discussed this with both the local branch of the county food bank (where we get our food) and discovered it’s actually not just us, by discussin it with other patrons, and I fail to see how this is a ‘personal’ problem, if more then one family (especially those with children) are suffering the same fate of throwing out half the food they get, due to spoilage. I also inluded a bit about how moldy food and other spoilage is still dangerous in this country, especially for children, the elderly and low-income families who often don’t get the medical attention they may need.

…suddenly my letter is being sent to the City Editor and the Editor-in-Chief.

…what? How did…umm, I didn’t want to cause a huge drama…just give a heads up for people to watch what they buy for the food bank, not…this.

Worst possible outcome, the Riddle branch of the food bank is shut down, which would stress out the rest of the system as everyone (about 100 families) would have to go to other food banks, or possibly not get food at all to supliment their income.

I feel torn between people needing to know this (so they can check their food and not ingest harmful bacteria) and feeling like I ruined a hell of a lot for the families of the town.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

a twenty-seven year old man bent over my bed, and I’m too busy laughing at a story to really notice.

Probably, because this is a guy I’ve grown up with, and can barely see him as more then the dweeb I knew then. He’s a great guy, a single father, works hard and all that. I want to kick the ass of his ex-wife who used him just to get a kid, because he deserves better then that.

He’s trying to pry the window out, so mum can put in her air-conditioner, it’s fun, watching him struggle (he makes amusing comments). Every once in a while I get a glimpse of his muscles flexing as he weilds the prybar or holds himself up the window to try to reach the top…reminds me why I ocassionally like men. *grins*

Though now I’m pissed, because neither my mother or him treat my opinions about the window with any respect and ignore me.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

My mother apparently ‘ratted me out’ to her therapist about cutting up my arm. Not a big deal, it’s not like she can do anything, but apparently she ‘threatened’ to put me in a long term care facility ‘for my own safety’.

( Cut for talk of cutting and other 'issues' )

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Fun with technical support:

Me: *after fiddling with two computers, three cords and way too much crap* Hi, I need to have my second ethernet jack replaced.

Tech Support: Alright, but let’s *run through various steps that have no purpose and you’ve probably already done* run through some steps.

Me: *groan of disbelief* Alright.

Later…

Tech Support: I can’t figure out your set-up *even though you’ve explained it three times, progressing from normal explination to ‘five-year-old’*

Me: *bored now* The DSL line goes from the box to the DSL jack, the DSL line goes from the jack to the modem, the Ethernet line goes from the modem to the Ethernet jack in room A, the Ethernet line goes from the Ethernet jack in Room A to the Ethernet jack in room B, the Ethernet line goes from the Ethernet jack in room B to Laptop C.

Tech Support: I don’t get it

Me: *must not hit self with phone….*

Even Later…

Tech Support: Ma’am, you need to replace your Ethernet jack in Room B

Me: *hits self with phone*

Transfers…

Customer Service: How may I help you?

Me: I need to replace my ethernet jack *hopeful*

Customer Service: *after hold* Someone will replace it Monday.

Me: *glory and god!* Thank you!

…WTF?! I was on the phone with you lot for an HOUR! For something I TOLD you when I was routed to you!

Also: Fun with Phone Company (who also provides internet)

Me: *dial 411*

411: City and State Please,

Me: Frontier Customer Support, Oregon

411: Ma’am I need a city.

Me: It’s an 800 number.

411: Ma’am I need…

Me: Let me rephrase that, I need the Customer Support number FOR YOUR COMPANY.

411: One moment ma’am, while I get that for you.

(yes, I should have given her a city, except I DON’T KNOW THE CITY OF Frontier Customer Support…it’s like…somewhere, how the fuck should I know?)

Now I have to call the bank…any ideas on what crap I’ll get from them to round out my morning?

PS: Grandmere had emergency surgery…is fine and bitchy!

Edit: Bank went fine…except me mis-typing my new debit card number as I’m used to the reversed 10-key.

Son of Edit: Am I seriously that hard up that I’m contomplating the merits of making out with a guy that I’ve considered a dork since we were ELEVEN? Jebsus.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

It one of those times in history, that the world is changing around is, where if you pay attention, you can watch a giant change or shift in what will become tomorrow.

Going green, the next moon mission, politics, the advancement of internet communication, the changing face of medicine…

These are just a few of the changes that have been going on in the past two years, and each day a new development comes, a new step towards what the future will become, and it’s amazing to watch, when one can separate themselves from the day to day and see the changes that are, and the changes that will be.

What will our world be like one year from now, five, ten? When my great great grandkids are playing games and studying, how will they be doing it? Will it be on the same consoles and books I use? Or will their schooling be conducted the way I hope, via a computer where they can experience classes from all over the world, in a global classroom? Will they see a ball and stick as antiques or things that they can equip in a game? Or will the classic games of tag and hide and seek still reign as kids run down the street on a hot summer afternoon?

Will the green movement become the norm, instead of just a quirky thing that takes too much time and energy to actually pay attention to?

Will my dream of a computerized home medical center that can read your symptoms and diagnose the easy things such as a cold or flu become reality, freeing up doctors for more important things become a reality? Will more doctors embrace computerized medical advancements, allowing patients to interact from their homes, instead of dragging their sick bodies to the offices, giving patients comfort and care that the truly want.

What will my decendents write, about the history I’m currently living?

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

I’m having WAAAAYYY too much fun creating bracelets on My Bead Girl!

My favorite so far:

Oh well, it’s a nice stress relief from maming and torturing my characters!