crazyfurries

Sooo... The place I was going to get hired at ran out of work (their director has promised the agents at the temp agency that the company WILL BE HIRING ME ON when more work arrives)...which led to everyone except half a skeleton crew (for running the factory) to being temporarily laid off before Memorial Day. This happened last week Thursday. There were other events related to that time and event, some of which people already know about. In the sense that they knew not to poke the nuclear bear.

For the past week I've been working at another factory through the same temp agency... Tomorrow, I will be calling them while on one of my breaks, to say that I will NOT be fucking continuing this bullshit of a week of 12 hr shifts in a place with no fucking fans worth a damn, while standing on my feet for all but 45 minutes of that 12 hour shift.

Right now my everything hurts, I have no energy to write any fiction or tag... and I have to get up at 3:30 am again tomorrow for another shift.


...I think everything below the navel is going to try to murder me in my sleep tonight.

I also suck at keeping on with updating this journal. Sorry.

OH GOD FUCKING DAMNIT ALL

I really, really didn't want to resort to this, but I am in DIRE STRAITS at this point.

Guess what folks, NEW frelling expenses have popped up since the move, isn't that just how it goes. Except now with $40 to my checking account, I now need $260 in order to get the frelling $$$$ mom left in savings for me.

Why that number? Well as it turns out, my dear town of employment had a fine that I did not know about, which is not allowing me to renew my license until it is paid. Also, there's a fee for renewal and replacement of the ID so I am now at wits end for getting the $$ locally (my brothers are as broke as I am nearly).

Which brings me to the purpose of this post. I'm going to put up a few posts around the communities for crowdfunding with a special limited time offer.

From today until April 21, I will be offering out the options of fan patches, card readings and water color postcards.

I'll be posting those up later, but here's hoping I can get enough put together to get my money, pay rent and get a new driver's license.

I really, really dislike the cops in Elkhart Lake.

...cause Ion my wee laptop is in the shop once again, tahnkfully covered by my geeksquad tech support insurance.

and I'm buying a new computer. Well. New to me.

aaaand this coming Tuesday is my very first...root canal. Liquid diet, antibiotics and painkillers hoor- wait that not right.

Cam, I am greatly appreciating the ways you have VASTLY expanded my dictionary of cussing words. So very, very grateful. And if this turns out to be malware, I will find the large incontinent St. Bernard, and add in the Tibetan Mastiff trained to attack people who put out small fires.

About paring down to only the stuff you'll use during the next four months.

About doing only the things that won't mess up the house for the next four months.

God DAMNIT. I am so sick of cleaning and sorting by now and there's still more to do!

I'd like to make jams this year from the stuff I'll be foraging, I'd like to have stuff stocked up for the colder winter months! But the sad damned reality is that I won't be able to if i'm moving soon.

I will kill you and hang your entrails as a warning to others if you decide to visit me for an entire night again.



In slightly better news I found out that axle strength does not matter in building the cart. It is the strength of it's floorboards which matter. At least if this guide to rustic home is anything to go by for it's specs on how to build a handcart. I'd have to check with someone capable of woodworking and carpentry to know if 1 1/2 in plywood would hold more than 500 lbs.


...and I'm awake enough to right now be witnessing my brother Martin as he sneezes and wheezes his way into a morning. And insists that he is 'fine'.

Real convincing bro.

Okay, emergency state of the fuzzy address.

Sine 1996 my mom has been diagnosed with Alpha 1 Antitripsin Disorder (google it, PLEASE.) which is a degenerative lung condition, and for the past 7 years she's been on oxygen.

For the past 3 years she's been jumping through every hoop with the transplant coordinator for a lung transplant. Today, while we were staying as a vacation at a friend's house and finishing up lunch, she got a Call.

There's a single right lung in Chicago.

This is mixed news, they haven't YET gotten the crossmatching done for her bloodtype and the donor's yet. 15-75 minutes away from that little nugget of news. A single lung isn't good because her other bad lung will likely keep expanding and push the new one out, decreasing her odds of survival (not to mention she'll be banned for life from pomegranates and grapefruits due to the medications she'll be taking after the transplant).

We're actually praying it isn't a match but we're going to have to go down to Chicago anyways just in case.

Milliways friends, PLEASE PASS THIS EMERGENCY NOTICE ON.

...but half the time I'm not sure if you're operating with half the brain of a crazy chatspeaker or half the brain of the average woman your age.

I'll be glad to be your driving buddy for the 3-4 hour drive down to Chicago to see your very good oncologist.

But here is a thing. I will not be any more able to understand what the hell you two are going on about anymore than the last time we did this. Taking away my sewing or my sketchbook is NOT going to improve my ability to comprehend and concentrate. Last time I recall the gist of your talk being about compatibility, talking about how the doctors in Milwaukee had dropped the ball and now you're stuck picking up the slack with these doctors. It was the same thing you complained about for 3 hours on the drive down there.

And then there's the DELIGHTFUL tidbit about what's happening on the way back. Clothes shopping.

I can count the number of times that a trip for clothes that didn't have frustration involved on ONE HAND. Seriously. Just give me $150, let me arrange a day for me to get Michelle Burgdof to come with me and we will find me several new interview outfits. Put simply, mom, I love ya, but I don't trust your judgement with my affairs anymore. Your definition of 'nice clothes' make me feel like a seal stuffed into a business suit. Always a few months later the shirts will not fit my chest without looking like the buttons are going to pop right off.

We've had the talk about our differences in vocabulary too, what one phrase reads to you, means something totally different for me. I've heard this broken record too many times before, can we please just take it outback and use it for target practice?

Maybe it's from having to wake up far too early this morning to get work done AND have lunch with Mom...

But I feel like if someone just touches me the wrong way, I'm going to end up attacking their face like a cat on catnip playing headcrab.

And i'm in my happy place at the library!

...wtfbody. The urge to eat skulls should be reserved for when we have to work with Popdouche.

I have new rant fodder for a new Newt's-eye View letter.

...for those who missed them the first time around...

One, two, three, and four

All were comics done for the old harvesters comm. Which is dead but the comics are still funny.

I think it'll go something like this

Dear Spazmom,

I understand that you've been waiting for your food.

It's taken a while to get done I'll grant you that but first several things that you need to take into account before you start screaming at the staff about how you've been waiting an hour for your food and alllll your little kids are screaming and hungry.

One: You were the last group to arrive after all other 10 tables at the tiki area filled up, each with 6 people to a table roughly. Your waitress told you it was going to be a while.

Two: You do NOT come into the kitchen to scream at the staff, or to scream at the waitstaff who are only trying to get everything done.

Three: I saw your kids, who were REMARKABLY more well behaved than you, and not screaming. they may have been fussing and anxious to explore the area but certainly not throwing tantrums or starving.

Four, and I think this is the most important one... LOOK AT THE CLOCK YOU GODDAMN BINT. You sat down at 12:10 pm. You food got to you at 12:35.

We have photographic proof and the tickets with timestubs for evidence.

Please.

Shut up, take your food, pay the bill, and leave us over-worked cooks out of your little PMS routine.

---A Baking Gypsy

Several comments from my coworkers.

On her four kids "It's not my damn fault she can't keep her legs closed."

On her Attitiude "Lady, I don't know what form of crazy you have but keep the hell away from me, it might be contageous."

On her time-sense. "...Who wants to take bets that this lady's on the good mommy's little helper?"

Okay, so you know how the old boxen's hard drive was borking and throwing up it's last legs?

Well the guys at the shop said they'd back up all my files onto a dvd.

Half right. They backed up all of the MUSIC files onto a dvd.

i'mma be visiting them again on monday to chat with them.

Cause you know...I'd like my art and story files back too! >=X