Saturday, July 16, 2011

Visiting Family Fuckery; July10-16

Unplanned stayover, at least by me, at the FFF house last night. No offers to drive me home, and I wasn't invited to stayover, and so, I came without my backpack and contained toiletries. So no shaving this morning, always a HUGE deal for the perps when they arrange this, and only a toothbrush was supplied for my unintended stayover. (Plastic and animal hair toothbrushes have also been of intense perp research). It was on a new bed in the den, the room that has been slowly cleaned out this past year, me helping. Somehow, my furniture scrounging youngest brother "found" a bed, and so it became the one I slept on. Extra deep matress and boxspring, and a plastic sheet integrated into the matress cover.

Which might explain why the perps were so nuts in tailing me as I traveled about town with my visiting brother, sister-in-law and neice, now 6 y.o.. Part of the arrangements this morning and into the afternoon were to visit the LVT tool specialty store, and pick up my pre-ordered parcel containing the Felco #8 secateurs and holster, the same models I took back to the CI store only yesterday as they were double the price. (I was mind-fucked into paying twice the prive as ordinarily I wouldn't of done so). And lo, if after lunch, my brother needed to visit the same section of the CI store and get herbicide, claiming that he cannot get it in his town, needing environment-friendly roundup. There were plenty of feints and dodges to get out of the store, as he was malingering over hot-tubs, barbeques, patio furniture and the rest of it. Some of it was inside, some outside, and all the better to have me kept milling about for the perp critical moments of building egress at the doorway.

Then onto repeat last year's minor acquisition of parts at the irrigation supply place to fix the soaker hose at the FFF which magically broke again. Last year I went there with my mother to get the same identical parts for the same reason and same curious fragility of this soaker hose. So this year my visiting brother gets to fix it as he dropped me off after this.

"Salmon season" again, having whole salmon last night for family dinner and travelling all over town (per above) with leftover salmon in the vehicle. Ditto for two days ago at my place, opening the last of the canned salmon. Not forgetting my mother usually brings one on the annual driving holiday to see above brother and family in September-October.

And at both the LVT and the irrigation supply, a E. Indian male of the same height and build was loitering at the counter while picking up or paying respectively. Funny how they like to make my financial transactions a multicultural gangstalking experience. And I suspect, attempting to leverage my associating with my sister-in-law, E. Indian herelf.

And a major swarming of weirds downtown when I took my new Felcos and its holster to a leather shop to get the latter modified to hold the tool more securely.  (Read, a red handled tool in a pinkish (natural) leather holster). They will keep them for a day or two, today's acquisition, for the leathermaking boss to return and pronounce the task as doable or not. Funny how they like me to have them hanging about, then to return them, then to pick a replacement pair up and have it for a few hours before handing it over to the leathermaking store two blocks away. This long-vaunted tool that the perps have had me lusting over for at least three years.

Said Felcos have red handles, a vinyl coating, and lo, if the red dressed gangstalkers weren't out in force to walk on my R side where they had been in my R. jacket pocket on the way to the store. And a herd of at least 20 8-10 y.o. kids "happened" to be passing by the leathermaking store when I exited, and I had no choice but to join this herd and walk among them until 60' away where the sidewalk widened. This is the second time this week that a kid herd, all going one direction, has "happened" as I exited a store. Yes, they are out of school, but why are they all together like this, as if on a field trip?

Both my exits from this buiidling today were with a crowd of at least six dudes loitering around for no seeming reason, one being a regular Fuckwit, presenting himself as a halfwit, who "happened" to be waving his arm in front of the door as I was about to exit and making sure his arm occupied the space I was to pass through some seconds later. When exiting the building for the second time to go the grocery store the dudes were strung out across the sidewalk, effectively blocking it, and forcing me to do a mid-block jaywalk, much like what they usually do. It was the second time today I was faced with a string of Fuckwits across the width of the sidewalk, pretending to be oblivious to this flagrant fuckery of public egress obstruction. Even the young Asian girls are in on it, a population I associate with being particular mannerly in public. That bullshit would get them mowed down in Tokyo.

Strawbery picking most of the day, and integrated me with the Mexicans and not the Punjabis for whatever reason. A new Mexican worker joined over my last two days off and has reasonable English. This should help the learning curve; they learning English and me learning Spanish.

The one Mexican that picks the berries from my row when adjacent to mine was on my case again, intruding to take the ones that I was to pick and making sure he was ahead of me. He kept returning to pick the side we shared whenever I was picking it, as I pick the opposite side when he is picking next to me. Plain fucking abusive that I am not even allowed to pick berries without encroachment on what I am to pick. This same fucker keeps this up, and it cannot be a fluke any more that he keeps doing this and "happening" to be my adjacent row neighbor.

Another annoying trend is for the perps to assign a characteristic smell to someone, and have them pick strawberries in the adjacent row, and when they within a certain range, usually 4' or less, the smell comes on. One elder Punjabi smells of oil or grease, the Picker-Babe's woman friend consistently stank of something, and one Mexican has this "man-smell" that I find unpleasant. So it would seem, if the perps have wiped my recall from the abuse years aged 2 to 5 y.o, I likely have abreactions to the smells of certain abusing personnel just as I seem to have with the colors and freaks they present in their daily parade.

A mostly cloudy day with some sun, especially at the noon lunch break, leading me into applying sunblock. The sunshine didn't last longer that 30 min. after that for the whole afternoon. And we do know how utterly nuts the perps are over sunlight exposures, sunblock usage, tanning (and tanning salons), and what clothes and their colors I have during the varing outdoor conditions.

The first leg hair shave in five days got the perps excited last night with extra noise; yobos calling out, elevator cables and movement, fake water-in-pipes noise and so it goes. A shave in the bathtub and a shower afterward to remove all scuzz.

Tanning in the salon tonight again, and purchasing a new package as my legs haven't browned up yet. I reckon the perps can control this if they want to, though to be fair, I haven't had tanned legs for decades.

More gangstalking coverage is getting plain obvious; an exiting bus passenger "happened" to be in lead-ahead mode from the bus stop and into this apartment building (one block). She went to look at her mail, and I got in the elevator to go up to my 6th floor, and lo, if the elevator didn't get delayed somehow and she came in too.

Another in lead-ahead mode on the Mt Douglas trail I take to walk from getting off the city bus to the farm.  A policemen was doing lead-ahead gangstalking on this trail four days ago, walking down the trail and eventually pulling out a plastic bag and putting leaves and things in it. Totally perverse. A negro woman is now tailing me off the bus and for two blocks in the morning now on the 0615h bus. Lets make it obvious shall we?

Gangstalkers at LD in force after tanning ("lit up"), tonight, and screwing me over for getting any service to get a micro SD card as I want to put a album on some for one of the Mexicans who has a card in his LG phone which he uses for a music playing device when picking berries in the field.

And what is this about getting extra live cleavage shown? One of the pickers had one breast partially exposed while sitting next to her. The farmer's son's gorgeous girlfriend came in a low cut blouse and a skirt into the picking fields two weeks ago. Tonight, the tanning salon attendant had ample cleavage showing while explaining tanning lotions to me.

Alternating picking strawberries and weeding; two different fields and berry types, with last minute change-ups after sending us somewhere else, we get to go back there again. Lets see if I can explain all this; Field A (which I planted, and helped on aisle heribicide spraying), has weeds coming out of the plastic row cover, usually in the same puncture hole as the strawberry plant is growing through. Field B was picked last year, and is still productive this year. First we weeded Field A for two hours and then there was a sudden market need for strawberries as there was none in the cooler. So we go to Field B to pick them, but before we got actually picking (we were setting up tables and the boxes) they drive up and say, no, we will pick Field A as the berries are harder in the wet conditions. Back there and we pick the few that are there. After lunch, everyone but me and a Caucasian woman picker (Picker-Babe's (see below)  friend  apparently) seems to know where to go; upon asking I get told to help washing potatoes where everyone else is, save a crew that was sent out to the field to pick them. Then before starting I get told there is too many on the potato washing line and am told to go weed in Field A, and to train the remaining woman on how to do it. But before I get to do training, the farmer's son arrives, makes that he isn't involved, and then when I ask him if he wants to train the picker he says yes. As well, he wants us to stick together, clean up some of the unfinished work of others, and so we do for some two hours.

The potato washing crew is done, and return, but this time Field B is assigned as it has more strawberries, so we all go and pick there. At some point late in the day the potato washers are needed again, and so we wind up at the warehouse again, and the few remaining pickers weed Field A again for a half hour or so before the work day ends. This theme of alternation of strawberry fields and racial mix is most curious to say the least, but as it "happens", it isn't the last of it

07-15-2011, 2100 h
Worked all day picking strawberries, this wretched planting in its thrid year and weed ridden as well. The berries were left too late, and so many are rotten, which we must scrutinize when picking and not place in the pint boxes.

A rain came on as I finished one row and helped out on the adjacent one for the last 20 minutes. The perps like to have the "co-workers" close in on me when I am switching to a new row, whether starting, aiding someone else in mid-row or switching direction. This time, instead of the aircraft, vehicle noise and the increased background chatter, they puled a light rain that has continued even now, effectively covering me for the last 20 minutes in the new row, the walk to the warehouse to clock out and change footwear, the 15 min. walk to the bus stop and after dinner when making my tanning appointment.

Both the Mexicans and Punkabis left at lunch from unseen direction; they all seemed to know where to go and what vehicle as no one came to collect them and no phone calls to the field supervisor seemed to initiate this redeployment of personnel. They away for some two hours, leaving me with two Caucasian women and one Asian male who is a regular at the farm.

Much more cleavage on show with the loopy attractive woman, call her Picker-Babe for now, coming back after wehn we were led to believe we weren't going to see her again. No extended trips to the porta-john this time though, but maybe her coke trips were to boost her stamina last time as she had no sleep. I don't know what to make of this babe; she says she grew up on a strawberry farm in Nova Scotia but doesn't have an accent, doesn't pick good berries, has a 8 y.o son under psychiatric care for ADD, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, OCD, Tourette's, Sensory Integration Disorder and a few more, who has already been kicked out of a number of schools. And now she mentions his sociopathic traits. And she says that she was in the broadcast business, TV and radio, for 20 years, but couldn't handle the political scene. All told, she touches so many bases that intersect with either what I have (ADD) or read about (all the other diagnoses), and it seems she has a "made for TI victim (me, that is) rap sheet". But she is a dtiz at times, so there is no interest on my part to become any further involved than polite worktime banter. And she says one boyfriend of hers has a running Rife Machine. Hard to know if any of this is true. The supervior doubted her strawberry picking cred, so its all up for debate as to what this babe is about, save plentiful cleavage reveals while leaning over, and arranging herself to be some 4' further away before the next round of cleavagef reveals were arranged. And she had the most bizarre get-up; leggings in mid-grey, and short blue shorts on top, so to expose her shape but no actual leg skin color until the lunchtime when she had hitched her leggings up over her knees. The perps are really big on skin exposures of late, often arranging the body shape in swimsuit or leggings, hours before the underlying skin (color) is revealed.

And too, Picker-Babe continued this very slow striptease over the day. In the afternoon I made a turn to take in the carrier of pint boxes, turning around, just as she had somehow slipped and regained her balance, all arranged to have her adequate (but not unsightly) tummy shake in the process, having me catch it in mid-jiggle. She had arranged her blouse to reveal her bare midriff just prior to the "tummy jiggle moment", so it was another stage of the skin reveal process that she was putting on at the perps's behest.

I got sucked into putting on some SPF 60 on my nose and the back of my neck at lunchtime as the sun had come on just then. Later, I had my bucket hat on for the same reason. The Mexican and Punjabi pickers had come back by then, and I was again picking in their midst. They helped me finish my row of strawberries, an with twenty minutes left in my working day, I switched to a new row to help them. Then the rain came on lightly, so the hat served a second purpose just when I was about to fold it into my pocket.

The rain persisted for me exiting the field, walking to the warehouse to clock out, walking 15 min. along the trail to the bus stop, and waiting there outside the shelter at 1800h as there was a curious influx of gangstalkers wanting to go downtown at this time of day, a Friday. The bus came late so the vehicular gangstalking had a longer duration, and they twice put the same deep metallic burgundy red vehicles side by side in the opposite lane and have them travel past together. Five minutes later, same again; same vehicle color, same vehicle types, and side by side. Usually this bizarre nonsense is reserved for white, black and silver-grey vehicles, but here we have the first time for this rarer color to be repeating.

And the rain continued all while riding the bus, and what a collection of freaks, and these dudes wearing shirts or T-shirts in the rain for crissakes. And some young-girl legs on show too; both with cut-off jeans shorts and again dressed for show and not for the weather.

And still raining for my 1900h tanning appointment, this time I had my umbrella in hand. And for the perps, that is an exciting variable, having an umbrella in hand. And of course the sidewalk clusterfuck setup was to have two oblivious-pretending dudes in deep conversation partially obstructing sidewalk egress under a tree that was also constricting passage. There waa an oncoming woman in a yellow raincoat, and I was timed to then raise my umbrella over the heads of the faux-oblivious dudes, while the woman in yellow waited for me to pass through. And have I mentioned how often the perps like to have me gangstalked while passing under trees? I think so.

And of course, the usual extra attention of more gangstalkers all over me when in the LD store after tanning (as in being "lit up"), making my second attempt to get a MicroSD card, successfully this time. There were five of them in file to proceed me into the store, plus another partially blocking my usual entry, and more blocking the main entry inside. I had the gut strut dude, the skinhead dudes, a granny and a few more, and at least one on me as I picked up the chocolate, something they nearly always arrange to be gangstalked by at least one Fuckwit.

No early start due to rain, having phoned the farmer before I set off. The farmer has made it seem that he is doing a coffee klatch in the morning, so he often picks me up at the bus stop now. Incredible "service", saving me the 15 min. walk along the Mt Douglas Trail to the farm warehouse to clock in.

My lunch was made up, which meant that it stayed in the backpack in my apartment while I websurfed. Later, I put the food and drink in their stainless steel containers in the fridge in a rare re-direction of these items as normally the backpack goes with me to the farm when I head out to take the bus. This represents a major perp milestone attempt to somehow correlate their energetics research over my packpack, the stainless steel containers and the keeping of the lunch in the fridge for a whole 24 hours.

Another arranged "consequence" of keeping me waiting for the rain to abate was to keep me in my work clothes until noon, another rare re-drection of my normal activities, as I go to work in them of course. And I was websurfing in said work clothes until noon, for whatever color-energetic referencing the perps get from LCD monitors. (I am also including the ones on the ubiquitous wireless phones that the gangstalker view in my proximity). Another coup for unusual clothing juxtapositions they like to plan for me. And lo, if the farmer didn't call me back as I had just changed out of them and put on my street clothes.

No farm work at all today, attending to errands and things. Retrieving the Felco pruners and holster, as it seems it was a big deal, and then a 10 min. bus trip to a racquet sports shop to get grip tape. As it "happened", it was a pointless junket at the grip tape wasn't used as the red vinyl handles covering the Felco pruners won't come off easily. There goes at least 6 months of planted notions over changing it and useless grip tape to put into my supplies box.

And in true form, the perps like to arrange one project in the mddle of the other to force extra delays for each of them, having me alternate my attentions. The Felco holster leather was treated and lo, if I didn't find some hooks in the materials and supplies box and fix them to the back of the front door for whatever they maybe used for.

And the Indian Lake Project gets some almost mainstream respect in Creepy Things That Seem Real But Aren’t: The Indian Lake Project. Get it? The title is suggesting that this "creepy thing" (event) isn't real by suggesting it "seems real" but didn't occur. Like WTF; here we have photographic evidence of children being subjected to treatments of some kind by military personnel in the 1950's, one at length due to the time series of photographs of him ("Roger"), and the title of the piece is suggesting it didn't exist. Totally fucking bizarre, pardon the profanity. And then giving the Alternative Reality Gaming site, Unfiction, some cred time/reference seems to be odd, as they aren't photographic experts. Call it FUDding around.

That is it for a week, the cursor deletions games are out of control.

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