Thursday, June 23, 2011

Tanning in the Salon

 A confluence of events to keep me hopping this evening though I didn't work late and was able to get the laundry done. Another day in the fields, first weeding pumpkins, then picking strawberries and then weeding them with a sickle for the bigger weeds and the thistles which prevent one from looking through the foliage for berries. It was "only" a 8 hour day when the Punjabis like to go 9 hours or more, but they all have vehicles to drive themselves home, but I take the city bus freakshow which adds extra time onto the commute.

And it was a freakshow, building up with dudes around me, the twitchy skinheaded Fuckwit in front of me kept moving about.

A salon tanning session tonight, a whole five minutes in the stand up booth. Plenty of gangstalker coverage on me afterward on the street. Just imagine, here is me complaining about all the headlights, streetlights and reflections trained on me in the daytime when outside, and here I "volunteer" to get lit up in a tanning booth. But the tanning/Vitamin D research is a big part of the perp agenda, and they are finally allowing this activity now, apart from direct tanning from sunlight. Back in the helter-skelter abuse days of 2002, they hit me with some obscene head pain irradiation in the tanning booth, and I could thwart it some by moving around. No doubt that was all planned, and eventually tanning became such a hassle it wasn't worth it. Then they closed tanning salons in the daytime when they should of been open. The next phase in 2003 and 2004 was to have me at the clothing optional beach, sometimes with friends of the day (ones who all later never called back), or sometimes alone. That suddenly stopped then, and I haven't been back since, though it became more problematic when I had to give up my vehicle in mid-2006.

More FUD on the job in the last two days, and other strange supporting behaviors from the rest of the crew. Pulling the weeding hoes out of the van and then said van arrives first and we don't have any hoes to start with. A ten minute lull in the work activity, and it seemed to be important for the perps to arrange to have the hoes arrive later, especially since they had the road down to one lane as they were intalling a new power pole nearby.

Other FUD moments were to have me pick strawberries in the one remaining row, and everyone else getting themselves ready to go weeding. Then I get called back to do the same. Like WTF; why cannot they give me instructions in the first place? Then an Asian member of the crew was doing his sentry duty at lunch time, just standing there while I was approaching with a berry carrier with 8 pint boxes in it. The ever changeable wind blew some boxes out of the carrier, which I did not hear (most odd), and the Asian sentry worker just kept looking at me, and didn't say anything about the pint boxes falling out of the pint box carrier. Talk about useless co-workers, and somehow I keep managing to find them.

The one Mexican we had on the crew flew out today as there was a personal emergency in his home country. Yesterday it seemed he was totally out of it, wandering into my row or strawberries, coming over from his row which he left unpicked. Others were pulling this same bullshit today as well, pissing me off as why cannot they stick with their own row? This constant need to get in front of me , or behind me, or where I was sitting or standing almost immediately after me is getting out of hand. One of the Punjabi men was dogging me in the next row, staying with me when ordinarily he is a faster picker. (A moot point as I have found him to miss many berries down low). But this time he was sticking with me for at least five minutes, and then was standing over me, something I cannot fucking stand, and which the perps know and like to harass me with. So.. I stand up to move and I seem him in some kind of zombie state, mindlessly scuffing his foot for some bizarre reason and withnin a second of me vacating my location to walk up the row, he steps across my row and heads elsewhere. Like WTF; here he is to be picking, and yet unilaterallhy takes off so he can cross behind me in the shortest vacated time possible.

This was the same Punjabi who arrived with the crew van with this fugly throbbing muffler noise someone gave it back last year. Somehow, the van and him arrived noiselessly as I never pass this noise off to being a background noise as it is so annoying. So either someone nullified by hearing while it arrived, or else it teleported in. And of interest, the rest of the two Punjabis took turns to drive this same van to the top of the field, relocate their personal vehicles 60' or so, and then drive back down. A totally needless activity in the middle of strawberry picking. My only English speaking colleague/gangstalker was at a loss to explain why they were doing this and was obviously vague in explaining how the Throbbing Muffler Van arrived without making a sound. Case closed; when they go vague it means something.

And a keyboard sieze-up stopped blogging in its tracks last night, the perps only letting me in on the root cause of the problem at the last moment possible. That ended last night's blogging, hence this later post that is covering most of today, June 23, 2011.

I am still tired from today's labor in the farm fields, so I will call this one done and blog off.

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