Long Days

June 24, 2010
A 11 hour work day, picking strawberries late into the afternoon, 1830h.

June 25, 2010
1900h
The parcel delivery mystery game continues: the courier/delivery service won't leave a written notice as to where to pick it up and who it is. The parcel has gone nowhere for two days now, and a weekend is  now upon us. A total orchestrated fuckup; never in my life when I have missed a parcel delivery did I not get a notice. But these fuckers made three attempts on one day and left no notice. The parcel has sat there for two days in total limbo, and there is nothing I can do about this as I don't know who to contact.

This month, a total of four separate deliveries from online shopping has been/will be attempted. In the two cases that were sent to my mother, I had no notice of when it shipped, where it was, or any of the usual tracking information. In both cases, I emailed the suppliers, and it so happened that the day I enquired the parcel had been delivered to my mother's place that day. Both were ordered the same day, and both took longer than necessary, a whole two weeks for supposed airfreight.

And the third parcel is on a mystery tour; unknown delivery service that reported the three deliveries on June 23 and did nothing with it since, not even supplying a notice, per above. And this fuckery all started as the sender wouldn't allow a separte shipping address from the billing address.

Then a fourth parcel has not been given notice of shipment six days after ordering, and it just might suffer the same fate of being on an local mystery tour as well, because they too didn't allow a different billing and shipping address. The sickos were prepared for this one, arranging my web display screens to eliminate a separate shipping address for two of the four online orders I made. This is fucking absurd that after eight years of this insane abuse, they are still playing games with my parcels and jerking me around over where they get sent, who has them and then ensuring I don't know who has it or where it is. Plain fucking nuts.

2145h
A continuing barrage red vehicles and red colored clothes for my two brief outings tonight. One to get groceries and then another to get thick socks, with the least possible amount of wool in them as the wool socks I have to wear with my hiking boots are now throwing copious amounts of lint onto the pants. This then, is the excuse to pack lint onto them all over once they come out of the washing machine. The socks have always been washed separately for this linting problem, but that somehow didn't stop the lint coming off the socks directly onto the inside pant legs. Anyhow, another pain in the ass to deal with, never mind the expense of getting just the right kind of new socks that are low on wool content. I suspect this game has a long run ahead of it, even if I dumped all the wool socks today. All that "residual" lint will persist for months and is bound to keep me  fretting and occupied. Funny how it didn't happen last year when I wore the same socks, boots and pants for four months straight, laundering them every night five days a week.

And a full day of strawberry picking today, in two fields. One was the first pick new field, and the other is a weed (yellow flowering mustard seed) infested nightmare to pick. One of the mexican pickers in a bright red shirt liked to hang around me, so I assume he was today's red (strawberry) localized clothing reference. I was picking barehanded, which represents an increase in the complexity the perps are willing to undertake, as they previously allowed onlt nitrile gloves which they routinely punctured at some point in the work day.

Then a supposed traffic tie-up meant that we stopped work earlier, and then it also meant the bus back to my place was impeded, which it was. An 18 minute wait at the bus stop with a crowd of some 12 or others at the bus stop at 1740h  was duly arranged, not to metnion the parades of vehicles; greyscale colors with embedded red vehicles at first, then more red vehicles clustered together. All the while there was a parade of Fuckwits going by the bus stop; building up from vagrants, then native Indians, fat people and the final coup de gras, a negro woman and her young son passed by the bus stop and all the Fuckwits standing there, and then the bus came immediately afterward.

[And a screaming rage Fuckover tonight with major typo jerkarounds, some 15x before the word "other" above, was allowed to be spelled correctly. More typos have followed, and they have also fucked me over opening up the groceries and otherwise screwed me senseless tonight. At least 20 rage-ifications since 1900h. The weekend Fuckover can be extra brutal as I came to find out early in 2002.]

The city bus freakshow came with its own "strawberry" emulation Fuckwits. The dude in the sloppy and goofy red shorts did his spread legs (crotch exposure) for the entire time he was on the bus, the arrangement was that it was too much red at once so they had another Fuckwit stand in the way for five minutes or so, and then he got off so I got a full crotch full of red shorts looking at me from across the aisle. About when I had enough and was to walk, he got off, and within a stop, a woman with a red and white patterned bag sat down in the seat of the red crotch job dude. Again, I had enough of her waving and moving the bag around and then she accomodated me by getting off. I made it to my usual departure bus stop with a headphone wearing Fuckwit dude standing in the way at the rear exit, adroitly getting in the way, and contacting passengers from each side of the bus that were also attempting to get off. Totally fucking stupid to arrange oneself to be in the way of exiting passengers in the first place, never mind from two directions.

And after a whole day of picking strawberries the sickos decided that wasn't enough red to look at, so they have arranged flashbacks of red strawberries in my vision for the past few hours. I have never had any flashbacks from anywhere at anytime, and now they have started this fucking bullshit up to aid their visual harassment continuity games it would seem.

Not much to go on here, as there is much to mention, e.g. the red shirted Mexican farm worker that kept hanging around me, but I think it is better to post it, lest it get deleted like the last time.