return of the Invisible cable TV
Rude asshole came to fix the cable Tuesday while Trish was seeing the foot doctor. Not enough sleep; napping in the chair -- the doorbell rang. Same bozo as last time; did nothing but play around with the remote before finally calling his boss -- modulators were only connected on one side.
So Tuesday morning, we mostly just sat around & drank coffee while waiting to see about Karen coming at lunchtime. 1:30 instead; I turned on the cable to show her what the channels were doing -- they'd fixed Skiffy, but left 4 others.
Zoom-bus, we went up to the head office to report the comments of Super-dildo.
Followed by Kame-Apart; Karen had to pick up some gift.
Then we went up to John's Tacos in the Invisible Mall for a Diet Mr. Fruity. Karen concentrated mostly on Trish & her anxiety over work -- Bridget is a wicked bear.
When we came home, Trish sat me down in the basement with Battlestar Galactica while she made an apple crisp; finally, just wound up making me a cheese sandwich & apple crisp for supper.
We have got to do away with the remaining apples: an evening spent chopping & paring the things stressed her out too greatly -- ergo, I suggested 2 trazadone at bedtime, if for no other reason, than to fuck Scientology!
My own sleep? Until 6:00; could've been longer, but I feel more rested than with straight Ambien.
Back to work today -- must return to BA, Galaxies (whole new version), & Noc-Lar. My power infests all times, all galaxies, all dimensions... but many still seek me out, a green jewel they must possess...
Except Noc-Lar is ruby: the blood of mysterious union. (Yeah, in spite of which, some Critter called "Galaxies" a "surface story". Guess he's about as ignorant as the rest of the Bozos in the industry.)
Other than that... physical coming up today; foot doctor, tomorrow, so I'm not certain how much I'll be able to work on my "too familiar Trek sounding technology," for which gross misinterpretation I have to thank a host of new, "pretty good ideas"; just need to dumb them all down...
...& get out of this teenage wasteland. Early Mindstorm is a priority: the return of the dread typewriter.
Yeah, if science fiction publishers continue to ignore my work, I'll find someone who does appreciate it.
Until tomorrow... the Vadisadism has yet to vanish. Slutty girl's coed fraternity got me to mix alcohol & LSD 'cause of the letters I'd written her.
& you know something, VADIS? You really are an albatross.
So Tuesday morning, we mostly just sat around & drank coffee while waiting to see about Karen coming at lunchtime. 1:30 instead; I turned on the cable to show her what the channels were doing -- they'd fixed Skiffy, but left 4 others.
Zoom-bus, we went up to the head office to report the comments of Super-dildo.
Followed by Kame-Apart; Karen had to pick up some gift.
Then we went up to John's Tacos in the Invisible Mall for a Diet Mr. Fruity. Karen concentrated mostly on Trish & her anxiety over work -- Bridget is a wicked bear.
When we came home, Trish sat me down in the basement with Battlestar Galactica while she made an apple crisp; finally, just wound up making me a cheese sandwich & apple crisp for supper.
We have got to do away with the remaining apples: an evening spent chopping & paring the things stressed her out too greatly -- ergo, I suggested 2 trazadone at bedtime, if for no other reason, than to fuck Scientology!
My own sleep? Until 6:00; could've been longer, but I feel more rested than with straight Ambien.
Back to work today -- must return to BA, Galaxies (whole new version), & Noc-Lar. My power infests all times, all galaxies, all dimensions... but many still seek me out, a green jewel they must possess...
Except Noc-Lar is ruby: the blood of mysterious union. (Yeah, in spite of which, some Critter called "Galaxies" a "surface story". Guess he's about as ignorant as the rest of the Bozos in the industry.)
Other than that... physical coming up today; foot doctor, tomorrow, so I'm not certain how much I'll be able to work on my "too familiar Trek sounding technology," for which gross misinterpretation I have to thank a host of new, "pretty good ideas"; just need to dumb them all down...
...& get out of this teenage wasteland. Early Mindstorm is a priority: the return of the dread typewriter.
Yeah, if science fiction publishers continue to ignore my work, I'll find someone who does appreciate it.
Until tomorrow... the Vadisadism has yet to vanish. Slutty girl's coed fraternity got me to mix alcohol & LSD 'cause of the letters I'd written her.
& you know something, VADIS? You really are an albatross.
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