Monday, May 03, 2010

Musical Bus Seats

I have never seen so much seat swapping on the bus until today, and it would seem it has increased of late, and has an Unfavored Fuckwit sitting in the just-vacated seats of the Unfavored. Then they swap again, this time with the other passenger who was gangstalking me at the bus stop when I boarded against a stream of two with large baggage that needed to get off at the front door of the bus, replete with a large piece of wheeled luggage. First the E. Indian sitting two seats from me in the transverse seats sprang up at the next stop to sit in the very seat of the just-vacated blonde woman, who oddly only got off her seat to exit when the bus stopped, as if a last moment decision, and had to ask the bus driver to open the rear door as he didn't see her there at first, as the bus stopped for the reason to pick someone up.

After a few minutes, maybe 5 stops later, the E. Indian gets up and exits the bus, and lo, if the red-dyed haired woman in this ridiculous long florid jacket who was doing the pacing back and forth a the the bus stop where I waited didn't then immediately sit where the E. Indian was. After that I gave up watching the seat, but there was at least two more cases of seat swapping that seemed to be important for the show. And at least two cases of road works to pinch down the through lanes from two to one, and one of then was at a bus stop I sometimes use when my perp-abetting mother drops me off at the nearest shopping plaza. They have been busy running cable under the road in my mother's neighborhood, and it would seem that this job is a continuation of the same, now along a major arterial roadway, the same route that the bus takes.

And heavy on the red colors today, with the least-likely-bus-passenger being the elegant Asian woman in a red jacket, hair done up nice, and looking so out of place sitting with us shmo's on the rear bench seat, two seats away. Then they inserted a dude between us, so it would seem they want to blend these particular fuglies (red, dude) together in some way.

And major wind this morning when starting to dig a small section of ground in the frontyard of my mother's place, to build a platform for the garbage cans which stupidly sit on the slope of a bed of St. John's Wort. I suppose the perps were excited that I was digging the very ground where the garbage was, and all the more so that one can is made of brown plastic.And I don't suppose on the theme of brown color harassment it was any bit of a coincidence that they forced me to have a shit after the digging job and  then backed the toilet up as well, another first as this one has nevef been backed up before, and has been there for some 10 years or more.

A sudden shutdown of the water, both hot and cold, and in the kitchen and bathroom, not even a residual drop which is most strange. But it seems that I am not allowed to use the water for making dinner, mostly for clean up, hands included. As part of the deal of finding out there was no water, the dish detergent clod that magically accretes at the spout was used to wash my hands, and it gets to stay in the drain trap until the water is resupplied.

This preceded dinner making, and the perps were also good for enraging me at least eight times in full voice, no dynamic windpipe constrictions this time; fake touches, the tortilla sliding in the pan by itself, noise associations where there was no causitive effect (like unsynchronized video and audio), some tapenade flicking, and tickling that arrived at my left sock for me to yell at the assholes, observed the navy blue sock touch the sock and pull on it.

Not as bad as the Boston water main leak, a 10' pipe that leaked big time. That is another perp hotspot, and it just might be related to the perp's ongoing fuckery over water supply, water uptake and whatever else interests they have with water. I am good for at least 20 runny nose events in any given day, and most often when I don't have kleenex at hand and am busy working on something.

This morning it was the above mentioned First Feral Family home garden digging that begat at least two nose running, using my glove to wipe it off, something they just love to instignate. The perps have a leather fetish to be sure, and I suspect it is that the tanning introduces all manner of metal salt interactions that the perps find so interesting.

Font size fucking is still ongoing, a relatively minor two year long game they play, changing the font size smaller when I return to a web page from a link I followed. I don't understand why they do this, but the size of text fonts is a big deal for my tormentors, and even reporting about it as I am typing begets overhead pounding noises (12" concrete ceiling/floors) that are heard through the earmuffs I am wearing.

Said earmuffs are deep metallic green colored, with dark grey foam inside that has mysteriously stained a lighter shade in places, and it is quite common for this color of vehicle to be present when I first set outside. And today, at the house opposite the First Feral Family home, why, a deep metallic green pickup truck parked there for no seeming reason, as the house owner is on the two tone white and brown pickup ownership assignment. Not a big deal, but it is most curious that they like to hound me with certain colors of vehicles on certain days. Mondays, being a no yellow color medication intake day, due to the constant "forget" situation when packing for a FFF stayover (last night), are usually big days for yellow colored vehicles to be gangstalking. And lo, if they didn't park a yellow taxi some 100' from the bus stop today, hiding (sort of) in the shade of a tree in a playground parking lot. A great place to find cab fare, har, har.

Other bullshit at the FFF home was to have a glass bowl sitting on the ceramic bowl stack, and the one that I used for cereal this morning. And it "happened" to be the identical bowl in which I made salad there some four days ago, though I did not eat from it. Funny how that happens, and of course with a cooperative asshole as a parent, and a disgustingly disorganized one at that, all manner of novel juxtapositions of objects and filth are completely in character with the way the place is kept. I am holding my nose in figurative terms as there is so many pockets of uncleaned splatter, or like messes, and if the perps taught me one thing, is that I don't like messes. (Even if they did demotivate me at times to have a nominal mess, though never in the kitchen).

And the water was on again, arranged to have me do the dishes immediately before making tea. And the side plate that was cleaned and dried was re-used within minutes to then be used for the chocolate that goes with tea. This might of been the grand plan; shorten the interval between plate usage. I have only two side plates as the other two mysteriously didn't return from Seattle, and one is dedicated for leftover tortilla use, and the other for breakfast and tea times. All this is extremely important for the sickos as any food contact and digestion needs to be quantified in some way with the crockery or glassware it was eaten from.

As part of this first time back to back dishes then tea time I also ended up towelling the 12" chefs knife blade dry, as it always air dries for the hour or more it sits in the rack before being put away. Not unexpectedly, they put on extra outside vehicle noise at the moment of drying the knife blade, as this would be the first time in over eight years they have arranged towel drying this knife blade. Wonders never cease, but it also shows how particular the assholes are, and how much further they have to go. Two more years of this insane abuse they say, which is likely bullshit, as the "one year more" mantra started (per mind fuck games) back in 2003. Occasionaly, about once per year, a run of planted notions as to a near term cessation of hostilities, but I don't see that happening. Not only do they have 55 years invested in me, but 8 years of intense abuse, and if they are still fucking around noisestalking my every utterance, and sabotaging even the word "the" when typing, they aren't going anywhere soon. Even if they get to 100% mind control, which they might in 2010, they aren't going anywhere until they get their brown color games sorted out as it seems to be integral to so many things; remotely reading victims, the petroleum interest, and their long running games with shit, toilets and sewers.

The month-end accounting is done, always a major screwed-over activity; typos, mis-reads, changing totals when I go back to the prior web page, miscounts, then getting the Provincial Sales Tax wrong (per mind-fuck), then ditto for the General Sales Tax, transposing the respective percentages of 7% and 5%. It is just hilarious for the perp sickos to have me use the wrong tax percent and then have me not bother to fix the error, and then tell me what the error is partway through the month. And making sure it wasn't worth the bother to fix it. Another fuckaround is to change totals, seeming after entry in the prior month, and then putting in a small sub-dollar adjustment transaction to fix the error for the same reasons; it is too murky for me to figure it out for amount that the error is, as the Quicken entry exercise is strictly for record keeping as the bank has the correct amounts/totals.

Only $213 on chocolate last month, less than for food this time. Wonders never cease. And a strange deposit in my account, from "Canada Fed", for $258, and $180 from them last month. I don't know who this is even, and it almost sounds like a prison payment, perverse as it sounds. Though, (per planted though flash), it could be the staged deposits for my training grant going back to December. Normally I would recall the odd name from the earlier transactions with them, but in accordance with perp fuckery/recall deletion games, I am not allowed to recall what I normally would. Part of the ongoing FUD show, and the assholes picked the wrong person to fuck with.

And how about that Times Square bomber on camera, changing his clothes (jacket) in mid side-walk. Funny, that is the very thing the perp sickos do around me! There is some kind of color interactions with clothing they are quantifying, and they are all over me if I make a clothing change before going out, say, to yoga. And they did send me to NYC in 2001 in my permitted working days, and I did stay at the Mariott at Times Square and had my only look at the city there. I was kept busy working to get out much. And they are putting on extra noise of loud mufflered vehicles as I type this and come to detail these "coincidences".

Enough of the banter; I have an early dental cleaning appointment and then a full day of squat. The job interests of last week, at least four all have come to zip.

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