Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Cranked Up Before Going Out

A real mixed up morning, planned and scripted to the microsecond, and all about making sure I was totally enraged before going out.

This morning I was attempting to save yesterday's blog posting for the second time, and lo, if my internet connection didn't go down then. Which is the identical circumstances of last night; the internet connection stopped when I was saving immediately before posting it. Like WTF? How could this possibly happen at the same moment of doing the identical activity. And it wasn't Blogspot related in anyway, even if it looked like it at first. All my web pages that I simutaneously access via tabs in my Firefox browser couldn't reload. If that doesn't spell SABOTAGE I don't know what does. Ditto for the two disimilar hard drives that "broke" at the same moment, going back three years almost.

And it has been a hard drive day, as my mother's PC appears to be defunct due to a hard drive problem. These are the normally very reliable WD Caviar Black 640Gb disks; I bought two five months ago, one for her PC rebuild and one for mine. And both PC's had a "malfunction" yesterday and today; my internet connection problems (which included moving the PC to access the ethernet connection), and her blue screen, now thought to be a hard drive problem after looking at it this morning. And I "happen" to have a hard drive of the same kind that has been sitting on the shelf due to three orders of a removable hard drive trays failing to come through since Feb. 05, the last one still pending, and now two weeks longer than what they indicated when I sent off the order. Another one of those futile quests the Fuckwits like to put me through maybe. So... maybe this entire hard drive jerkaround is to have me replace a drive in my mother's PC with the one that has been sitting on the wood shelf in my apartment and only 2' from me and this PC. Difficult to know how this is to play out, and doubtless the use of the same PC repair shop is another one of those interesting coincidences. Perhaps my removable tray will come in as soon as my mother's PC has exited the shop, or maybe they will be both at the shop at the same time, in another coincidental reprise.

I was annoyed enough when I had to deal with the internet connection going down this morning, and was then on the phone for support to try and figure out what the problem was. The support personnel can view a session/connection and test it out from their end, and reset it if needed. After trying some remedies, the router was looking to be the problem, but before I could conclude the call my in-town brother came to pick me up. I temporarily broke off the call to ask him to wait five minutes as it was wrapping up, and he said he would be outside the building in his van. And that is about how it happened, and I go out to look for him and he wasn't around, even going to the local supermarket parking lot as he parks there sometimes. I should of taken the number of loitering Fuckwits in the lobby, and yet another motorized wheelchair in the elevator, #3 for the past week when none had ever been sighted before in the past three years in this building. Then no end, say 40, shiftless males were wandering around as I was searching for my brother's vehicle and I went back to my place, also screwed out of taking the elevator due to the continuing "problem" of one of them being out for three weeks now. Anyhow, I was stinking infuriated that he had fucked off when he expressly said he would be waiting. I phone his on his cell phone and he says that he made a short trip to the local auction house and was on his way back. Like WTF? He makes an imminent arrangement and then fucks off. Downstairs again and then he is there this time. He defused my annoyance (read, per mind fuck games) by the fact that he said he called me and left a message. Totally stupid in my view, as he knew I was on the phone dealing with this fucking internet access sabotage, and who looks at their phone to see more messages when they have committed to departing once the call is over.

Then never a straight line to going to a destination. Two garage sale stops enroute to our mother's place, and another at the Oak Bay Junction where the street assault of 2008 took place, and then finally we make it there. I go attend to the PC to find out what the problem might be, and he starts hefting the plastic bags of roots into his van that I had dug out over the past three months. I take the PC connections off and then take it to the van, and he gets suddenly fussed about where it should be and puts it in a brown cardboard box. I tell him that it is a totally stupid idea, and he resets it on the carpeted floor of the van, where it should of been put in the first place. Any excuse to put brown somewhere near something else, it never fucking ends, the perp's brown color obsession, especially with cardboard.

There were still more black plastic bags to be hauled past my mother's garaged vehicle to his van, and he was sure to tail and lead me in this exercise. We take the bags to the municipal works yard where they take it to make and resell compost from it. Then onto the PC repair shop where he announces that he will go to the local bank while I am inside. Yet another excuse to bugger off while I am engaged in a short term activity. Whether he did or not I wasn't sure, having been fucked out of the notion to monitor his van from inside the store.

Needless to say, the vehicular gangstalking while driving around with the PC and plant roots in plastic bags was increased. Even with the empty plastic bags, the vehicular Fuckover Force was out; excess of red vehicles that would cluster at intersections, then the oil tankers, the concrete trucks, the boom trucks, the car carriers (a plastic wrapped Audi on board), as well as the fleets of SUV's, pickups and passenger vehicles. Then out on the highway to Langford to pick up an article of furniture he had in mind, still with the fleets of vehicles in abundance. After some wrong turns, one seemingly by design, we arrive at the house and he is already sure he wants to purchase this hutch, having seen it online. It was a fugly puke brown color, and I had the honors of holding one end, and he the other, while we took it out the house and into his van. On with the "brown stalking" it would seem, and all the better that I had touched and grasped this hideous furniture.

I spent four hours slinging soil at my brother's place in the afternoon. Digging and sieving are both high interest activities of the perps, and especially when handling the couch grass roots I was pulling out. This is when the Harley Davidson motorcycle noises came on, but also the throbby trail motorcycles and then the high revving Japanese motorcycle noise, winding to high rpm and and being held there. The SAC had at least four flyovers in the afternoon, and my "buddy 'copter", the extra dark grey Sea King also circled the property. There were plenty other aircraft; the Helijets (Sikorsky S-76), the fixed wing Otters, Twin Otters, Beavers and even unidentifiable private aircraft. Other noisese were a constant droning from some work on the nearby naval base, hot-rodded vehicles, and the lastest of the repetoire, the Lexus vehicles that sound like a pained cow.

The perps hammered me in the left knee at least four times during the soil sieving, plain gratuitous whacks. The wheelbarrow handle was 4" away, and I did not blunder into it, and nor did I move, and then a sudden whack to the knee of no ostensible cause. Even proximity is being used at the excuse for perp applied abuse, and not even having me blunder into something isn't the needed excuse they once arranged. The sickos arrange other pain and extra-kinetic soil clods to keep me annoyed while outside, raising the abuse level as well as ensuring my "reactions" (read, mind controlled exercise) was also near rage levels.

Enough to call this a posting, and be done with the ongoing typo sabotage.

No comments: