Oh, wow.

Yeah, I really have no business blogging at 5:36 in the morning.

WARNING, THE BLOG BELOW MAY CAUSE YOUR EYES TO BLEED.

...Art

Just another useless blog

So then. It’s done with. Christmas 2003’s dead and done.

Get your Porsche? I didn’t. F*cking Santa.

Oh well. Maybe next year.

So then, another instalment of Who Art Hates… ready for it?

The French.

I mean, sure, no one likes them Frenchies. But now, I’ve gotta say, I hate them more than before. First off, I’d like to clear something up from a previous blog. Essie is Joe’s car, a ’97 Escort. The reason why I hated that bitch is that I was putting in a remote starter for that car… something that really shouldn’t have been that big a deal. I put it in, tested it, and it started the car fine… but it kept cranking the engine over after it started. It then would turn the car off, and crank it over again. Not so good. I pulled most of the shit out so that Joe could drive his car around without stuff shorting out and causing fires. Try again later.

A call to the Frenchies from Prostart in Queerbec confirmed what I’d suspected. The remote starter wasn’t sensing that the engine was running, so it kept cranking, then stopped, and tried cranking it again.

Little techno-speak for the small handful of you blog-readers that get off on this sort of thing. I followed the instructions that told me to get the engine’s runnin’ signal from the coil pack. Thinking being, it’d detect an increase in engine speed at the pack which would indicate an engine no-longer turning under the starter’s power but running happily on its own. Not so much with that working. The Frenchies in question told me I’m looking for an AC signal above 1.8V. Anything above that’s a good tach signal. Well, at key off, there’s no juice. Turn the key to the on position, and it jumps to some 28VAC. When the engine’s running, it crept up to about 30VAC. 1.8V? Uh… I pulled the remote starter out again.

A second call to the Frenchies and the guy asked me where I’m getting the tach signal from. I told him I got it from the coil pack as per instructions, the red and green wire on the pack as verified by the online tech support webpage… you know, exactly as the manual and website wanted me to.

“Oh, yeah, don’t do that” he says, “use any fuel injector signal.”

Righto, DON’T follow the instructions in the manual. DON’T follow the troubleshooting info in the installation support portion of their crap-ass website. Where it clearly says Tach Signal from Coil Pack… well… Coil Pack is French for Fuel Injector. Use a fuel injector signal. Naturally.

FUCKING FROG-EATING FRENCHIE BASTARDS!!!

I tried the other spot, and five minutes later the car started properly. I no longer hate Joe’s bitch Essie. I’ve replaced that with a hate-on for the province of Quebec.

Mmm. Hatred.

A little bit-of-tid I’d like to leave you with… Margaret, a grade eight student, brought some teen-rags with her when her and her family visited for Christmas. For shits and giggles, I’ll post here what that rag advised me in the horoscope section…

Pisces: February 20th to March 20th

Love: Your crush seems distracted. Ask him what’s up, but if he doesn’t give you a straight (HAH!) answer, don’t worry too much about it. In another month, he’ll snap out of his funk and things will go back to normal.

Friends: You’ll meet someone who goes to another school and you’ll totally bond because you both love to do the same things.

Talent: Love holds special meaning for you, so romance comes easily. You get along with many different types of guys, but you dream of a soulmate.

Lucky days: 12/30, 1/19

Good hair days: 12/16, 1/2

Monthly love match: Cancer

This one’s eerily accurate. While I read it too late to appreciate one of my good hair days, it’s true that my crush has seemed a little distracted lately. I’m tempted to kick his ass to the curb; I don’t need his drama. On the other hand, maybe I can wait a month for him to snap out of his funk. I just don’t know what to do… You know, I get along with all kinds of guys, I should really just move on. Any Cancers out there looking for a soulmate?

Hugs and kisses, flowers and butterflies, razorblades and hand-grenades…
…Art

Oh look, more people make the cut

Okay. So like, everyone needs my car. We're a one car household, and it seems like my sister's always zippin' off to something... my dad's getting rides to and from work... grocery runs are always fun... and I just wanna go do something tonight, but can't.

Technically, we're a two car household, but the other one's in a bazillion pieces in the garage. Incidentally, I hate Koreans, I hate Korean cars, and I really really hate the random Middle Eastern crew that runs the local Hyundai dealership. See, I wanna fix that second car, but I can't. Why? Well, I'm waiting for parts.

"I need to order a set of exhaust valves", I say.

“WHAT?”

I paused and tried again. “I’d like to order a set of exhaust valves.”

Since almost everyone who reads this blog thing knows me personally, you all know how difficult my thick Joe Canadian accent is to understand. Apparently my good friend Mahmood Darwish Siva Zakheim Bin Nik Mosa Abdel Rahim Miqdad Radwan Mostafa Abo Jameel Ibrahim Mohamed from the parts counter was also having trouble figuring out the accent.

“OH, DASHBOARD?”

“No, exhaust valves.”

“WHAT SEAT?”

I cringed. “NO. I WOULD LIKE TO PLACE AN ORDER FOR A SET OF EXHAUST VALVES.”

“VALVES?”

“Yes”, I said. “Exhaust valves.”

After exchanging the normal year and model questions, he asked what size of engine. I have no idea to be honest, it’s not stamped on the engine, there’s no decal on the car, I really had no idea. I told him that the car had been in their dealership for repairs a while ago, so I’m sure they’d have that information on file.

“IT’S IN THE SHOP NOW?”

“Well, no. It’s not. Why would I need to buy valves for a car you guys are repairing? It WAS there before though, so you should have it on file somewhere.”

I had ordered parts this way before; they looked up the plate and got the required VIN, all was good. Not this time though, oh no. Our inept friend wasn’t helping my whole fucking skewed karma issue that I’ve been having lately… Grrrr…

So anyway, after finally placing an order for a seat, or dashboard, or something… I was told the parts would come in Wednesday or Thursday. I called Thursday, and they assured me that it’d be Thursday night or Friday. So today’s Friday, and I called again. Oh yeah, it should be in tonight, or tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then Monday or Tuesday.

WHAT THE FUCK?

How does Wednesday or Thursday turn into hopefully before Tuesday?

I’d like to get that shit going and done with, I really am sick of this mega-milage marathon my poor car’s in. Everyone’s taking my girl out for a ride. Uh, no, I don’t mean Iza. You filthy-minded….

Grrr…

Oh, and when I DO get to drive my own car, it's for stuff like picking up my dad from work. And, seems like every time I go and hit the road, some asshat BEGS ME to crush his skull in with my Maglite or lugwrench. Like the guy who decided that me coasting up to the car ahead of me in stop and go traffic wasn’t good enough so he flashed highbeams at me. Why should I step on the gas to move three car lengths and stomp on the brakes if I can just coast that distance? While coasting I still caught up to traffic and needed to come to a complete stop while I waited for the cars to move up again.

Of course, when I get highbeamed, I slam on the brakes. I mean, maybe I’m being signalled because I’m dragging a baby under my bumper or something. Heh, he didn’t like that much. Strange though, he made a lane change as though to pass me but the lane he chose was much slower. I don’t know why he wouldn’t have come back into my lane seeing as how he had a fairly large opening to do so, but he stayed in that other lane lagging further and further behind until I couldn’t see him anymore.

Maybe he wasn’t trying to hurry me up.

Maybe I really was dragging a baby.

Two days later, some father in an Accord was drifting into my lane. I honked. He continued to drift into my lane. I continued to honk. After passing him, he pulled in behind me and flashed highbeams at me. How dare I uh… what? Honk at him ‘cuz he was going to hit me? He wasn’t in a position to change lanes, and didn’t have a turn signal on either… Explain to me how it is that I end up getting attitude for getting cut off in my lane by someone drifting into it?

Anyone?

I slammed on the brakes. You know, in case I was dragging a baby.

We took the same highway exit… it was lots of fun. I’d situate myself in traffic to block his route, then if he changed lanes to get around other people to pull in front of me, I sped up to create the next road block. I hit my brakes a lot, you know, to make sure they still worked.

Asshole.

Me or him, you ask? Bah, toss a coin, I don’t care.

Seems like there’s more and more of these people out there over the last couple weeks. I hope it goes away when this whole Christmas thing’s over.

So then. I’d like to add brown people who help sell parts for Korean cars, and idiot drivers to the list of people I’ve got my hate-on for.

Man, I can’t wait to get checked into the Hotel Rubber-room.

…Art
Go ahead pigbitch, make my day.

Joe and Rhys are FUCKNUTS

Yeah. So like... there. Fucknuts. One word.

Happy? I'll go and fucking edit that previous blog now. Bastards.

So yeah, I fucked up. Whatever. I was ranting. Fuck. And now, "fuck nut" has been combined into "fucknut" just as it should have been when I was originally pissed off. You bitches happy now? Are ya? ARE YA?

Fuck, whatever. I never liked them Jews, but now I hate the Greeks just about as much.

On the plus side though, this particular Jew has offered to get together, smoke up, and lay out some pretty damned cool genocide plans. Don't get me wrong, I still hate him. And I hate Essie, that bitch of his. Oh, and the fucking French who are making me hate Jewish Joe's bitch Essie. Those French seem to think that raising a car hood, flipping a switch, turning on headlights, spraying your windscreen twice, lowering your hood, turning the ignition to the accessories position, lowering the car hood, pressing the brake pedal, counting 38 flashes of the dash lights, releasing the brake pedal, raising the car hood, turning the ignition off for three seconds then back on again, pressing the brake while washing the windscreen three more times, turning off the headlights, releasing the brake pedal and pressing both buttons on the remote starter at the same time within 25 pico-seconds of releasing the brake is a PERFECTLY LOGICAL AND INTUITIVE WAY TO PROGRAM A MOTHERFUCKING REMOTE CAR STARTER. Oh, in case you're worried, it's okay if you miss a step or don't press both buttons on the remote within a few billionths of a second of releasing the brake. You can just remove the key, turn off the lights, close the hood, and start again.

MOTHERFUCKERS!!

Where was I going with that? Oh yeah, Joe and the genocide plot. Watch out Asia, you're in the crosshairs.

Fucking French. "But I am le tired." "Oh, well take a nap... THEN LAUNCH Z MISSILES!!"

There any straight Greeks I wonder?

...Art

Man, I really hate people.

That's right. I hate people. Moreover, I hate the way people interact with other people. Seems as though people on the whole never really grow up, never leave that schoolyard mentality behind. That childish tit-for-tat never seems to go away.

Some people have no clue what's actually going on, but decide to formulate their own realities to explain things away... ...and some of those people ARE READING THIS BLOG RIGHT NOW.

Smarten up, fucknut. Things aren't the way you're saying they are behind my back.

Have a rotten day...

...Art

I'm feeling silly.

Yeah, this is going to be a stupid post, please feel free to skip it. In fact, I encourage it.

Couple of days ago, I seem to have lost something. I've had it for over 28 years. My sanity? No, you should know better... that's been LONG gone.

A birthmark. Yeah. That little dark dot that was between my eyebrows, just a little to the right of center. Gone. A while ago, it was itchy. I scratched it. Next day it looked red and angry. Like a zit, or a mosquito bite. More a mosquito bite, actually. Then, a few days ago, it was itchy again, and I scratched it. A small scab came off. And under it, pink skin. Birthmark gone.

What happened? I dunno. I kinda miss it, actually. Honestly, I hated it all my life. I remember one girl who liked my birthmark. Called it a sex symbol, as I recall. I musta been like... eight or something. I reacted negatively to that comment, I didn't want people noticing some blemish never mind actually calling it something.

I know I was young, 'cuz if it had been a little bit later, I would have grabbed her and done something dirty.

Monika, my best friend of forever, notices it all the time. We don't see each other much, but every time we do, she points it out. "Man, you've gotten tall... I remember when I used to be as tall as that birthmark!" She tucks in well under my chin now. I can't wait to see her again, see if she notices. I'll be disappointed if she doesn't.

So anyway... this mark... I've hated it all my life. Now it's gone. I dunno how, I dunno why... these things are supposed to be there like forever. Guess there's laser-something for that now, but I wouldn't have gone and spent money to get it removed.

I hated it. I'm not insane though.

I'm also broke, but that's... bah, whatever.

So there. Another blog entry. God only knows why I bother. Problem with that is that I don't believe there IS a god. So I'll be damned if I know who knows why I bother now. Only I won't really be damned, for there's no one to damn me to anything. God dammit, lack of faith takes away so many angry phrases! Well, guess it doesn't... but their meaning's greatly diminished.

Oh my god! Oh, wait... that doesn't mean anything. God dammit! Uhm... yeah, never mind.

Thank god for phrases like "fucking hell"... Wait, thank... not god. Hrm. Fucking hell? Hell's a Christian thing too...

Well, at least I'm left with "fucking".

I like "fucking". With or without the quotes.

Which brings me back to what I was saying earlier. This really IS a stupid post.

I'll enjoy it while I can, I guess. I sense bad days ahead. Someone in my family's rather cranky, and the circumstances surrounding that aren't likely to change for a while. Further, those circumstances leave us in annoyingly close proximity for the next few days.

God I hope things change.

Only without the god reference.

Yeah. I'll stop now.

...Art
(No Christians were harmed in the making of this blog)

I'm a dumbass.

Yeah. I fucked up a second default judgment against Telus.

That's all I'll say about that.

So... what's moist? That's right, it's spreading (HAH!)... Keep up the good work, people.

In the meantime I'll just say that I watched Anger Management today.

On satellite.

I didn't pay for it.

...I'm glad I didn't.

I'm still really fucking upset at having sat through it.

Adam Sandler fucking SUCKS. I should have known better. Every funnyish moment made it into the trailer for that film... if you haven't seen it yet, don't. It's one of those movies that would take several grams of pot to make funny. You know (or maybe you don't, goody two-shoes), getting so high that merely sitting around with people is funny as hell? Yeah. It was a really bad movie.

I also RE-watched The Matrix Reloaded today. I'm sick, you see, I have a lot of time to kill. And I'll just say I'm significantly less disappointed about that movie now. It's actually quite clever and far less annoying with the way it ended this time around. After this second viewing, I'm almost tempted to break my vow to not watch the third Matrix flick in theatres. The second movie soured me on it all, and when I started hearing the reviews and other people's opinions, I decided not to let the Brothers have another dime of mine for Revolutions. Seems the third Matrix sucks ass. I might just go to the theatres to find out just how badly.

On the other hand... if I paid for Anger Management, I'd be in a damned foul mood. If Revolutions is as bad...

Bad Santa on the other hand... went to go see that this last weekend. Sweet Jesus, what a trainwreck of a movie. It was horrible. Twisted, vulgar... just WRONG.

Go see it. It's almost as twisted as Death to Smoochy, and the best Christmas Holiday movie ever made. EVAR!

Oooo... having said that, I feel like I've betrayed my good old friend The Nightmare Before Christmas... But I guess that's a Hallowe'en/Christmas movie. Yeah, that makes me feel better. Bad Santa was the best full-on Christmas film EVAR! It's rated "R" for a reason.

Okay. That's enough of that. What else to say? I'm sick, Kermie's apparently getting better... hrm... maybe time for a Kermie Update.

Kermie: He's been off pain killers for a little while now. The vet wanted to see him again like... a week-and-a-half ago. Oh, wait, that's not entirely correct... The vet wanted to collect more money for doing nothing a week-and-a-half ago. Anyway, his pain killers and anti-b's ran out then, so he's "clean" at the moment. We decided that we'd let his meds run out to see how he'd be doing without them, and also to cancel his vet appointment to allow him more time to make progress... My thinking was that since nothing was really happening in the every two weeks time frame the vet wanted to see him on, and that we were thinking of getting him off the pain killers anyway, that we'd let the meds run out, wait a while, and when revisiting the vet just ask him to take an x-ray to see what's going on with that wrist of his.

For those not in the know, his wrist was injured and had essentially no bone left to speak of. It caused him a great deal of pain.

The other day, I was chillin' with my bud Kermie, and I was looking at his hand. One finger looks like it's a loss, but when I moved it around gently he didn't react negatively to it. I felt around his wrist a little bit, gently squeezing, rubbing lightly, no response. Well, nothing negative anyway, he closed his eyes and relaxed. He's also keeping his wrist close to his body, bent normally, and bearing some weight. Considering he wouldn't let it touch the ground before, and snapped at people when it was moved, I'd say that's pretty damned good.

His back legs move frequently, though he still looks very awkward when moving around, and things clearly aren't normal there. I guess that's to be expected since he's been inactive for as long as he has been in his condition; the muscles in his legs have wasted away. He's eating like the Kermie from the better days though, inhaling the bowl of food I gave him yesterday so quickly I was worried he'd choke on all the food getting backed up in his throat. He's also getting antsy and moving around his cage a fair bit crawling from one end to the other, turning around a number of times throughout the day... I think the worst is well behind him.

Yay. Good news. Yaaay.

A'ight peeps. I guess that'll about do it for me for now.

Hope things're good with you all...

...Art
Generally less harmful to your health than smoking.