Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Intercom Obstruction

A piss-off to start the day, as my intercom messaging was deliberately obstructed when I find a DHL delivery note on the outside of the door, with my name on it. The delivery attempt was at 0915h, and I was here and doing yoga, so I would of heard it had it rung. So, the assholes deliberately obstructed the intercom to arrange this fuck-up and for me to carry this bright yellow post-it note paper in my pocket for my outing to the bookstore. The same bookstore as I was at yesterday with my perp-abetting mother. The usual cast of shiftless males was in constant flux around me, save the "staff member" who kept on reprising, even when I was at the checkout.

A few middle age women were on intensive gangstalking as well, one making it obvious she was on my ass and getting way too close in the line for the checkouts. And the one ahead of me had some conversation with the cashier and then went to stand 6' away while I was at the same cashier. Said gangstalker woman was then in the perfect spot to crimp my egress out of the store, post-purchase. And have I mentioned how often the perps like to gangstalk me at financial transactions? At least every week. And today, it was a repeat of yesterday, except my mother bought the items and I was beside her.

Then onto the bank to get more coins for the laundry machines, and the usual downtown Freakshow was in progress. This time, the teller was a blonde Fatgirl, though friendly and even smiled a few times. Not the usual scared shitless look I get. I suppose they wanted to put on a friendly face once and a while, but all these Fatgirls is excessive of late.

An add-on to the above intercom obstruction; last week the ex phoned around 0915h and the phone did not ring, and I was here, doing yoga at that time. And lo, if something similar doesn't happen less than a week later nearly exactly at the same time of day while I am engaging in the same activity.

I see that my Craigslist posting didn't post for "some reason" when I did everything right and the interface is so dog simple. All to keep me pondering why no one responds to my ad about my bed that I want to unload before I move at the end of December. Naturally, this will be the most coveted bed for research purposes in human history if I may sound aggrandizing for the moment, as it seems that the perps devote huge efforts to gangstalk me with the same colors of the matress (navy blue), its cover (lighter steel blue) each morning whenever I exit this apartment.

I had an interview this morning for four weeks of evening shifts at a forest nursery, grading, sorting and packaging plug stock seedlings. Another "group interview", with two ponytail males and two mutes as the other candidates with me. The one redcoated ponytail, who hadn't worked there before, was carrying on like a Master of Ceremonies, kibitzing with staff (whom he did not know prior to this he said), and taking me to the lunch room to meet the mutes, one of whom I had worked with at the daffodil farm. This was all before the interviewer arrived, which made it look like a total set up; how did the mutes and the redcoat ponytail know where to go in the building to hang out before meeting the interviewer. Then the blonde male ponytail dude arrives just as we are about to enter the building, as directed by the interviewer. Sliding in at the last moment dressed head to toe in black with a massive blonde ponytail coiled at his shoulders for me to see.

Anyhow, it was less an interview than showing us the job, and the usual considerations that prospective employees might have. He seemed like a regular person and wasn't doing wierd things for about the first time ever in an employment situation. Everything seemed OK for earning $10/hour, plus a completion incentive.

And after departing the building, the next batch of interviewees were there, native Indians mostly, in hoodie mode, and one saw fit to tail me to my vehicle.

Then a drive back to the First Feral Family house with my heavy red colored vehicular gangstalking contingent, and lo, if my perp-abetting mother wasn't off to Mill Bay shortly as a friend was coming to pick her up. And lo, if Mill Bay isn't opposite (due W) across Saanich Inlet from the forest nursery I was at only a half hour before. And my mother had launched into this batshit wacko suggestion about Mill Rd. (Mills as it turned out) only two days earlier when it wasn't of any use to me in getting to the forest seedling nursery.

As I stayed at the FFF house last night, I got to see the rainstorm first hand while helping my mother with her cardboad box cutting that was needed in advance for the recycle garbage that goes to the curb. And lo, if she didn't pick the fugliest carmine red raincoat to do this with, adding to the fugly color scene, as the perps are still hounding my ass over brown cardboard, and too, adding in distance dependent viewing of these fugly colors as the light conditions and reflectivity change under the streetlights in the pouring rain.

And as it "happened" the gutter was overflowing and water was pouring over it instead of reaching the downpipe. Soo.. that was my first assignment after driving the FFF vehicle into the garage, was to attend to this gutter, as in clean it out of sand from the roofing and the algae. I had to do this on a ladder, a fitting finale to getting heavy gangstalking from ladder-bearing vehicles, and ladders propped on powerpoles while driving back from the interview.

A city bus freakshow to get back to my place after cleaning the FFF gutter, that sits over the garage where I returned the FFF vehicle. A redcoat woman was on the restless pacing act at the bus stop, and the assholes had flicked rain water on the seat to keep me standing outside the bus shelter for the parade of vehicles that erupts on very suburban Tyndall Ave each time I am there.

The city bus freakshow had eight dudes ringed around me while sitting in the rearmost seat. The two fat dudes who sat in the transverse seat in front of me, one wearing shorts for crissakes and with clown-like tight curly hair to add to his Unfavored level (male over 16, fat, shorts wearing, curly hair), and to ensure that they were meant to be noticed. A petite Asian girl finally came to sit behind me, this being a 1228h #27 bus with over 30 passengers headed into downtown; very odd even with Xmas a month away. Then two negro women, one cafe-au-lait for five minutes of travel time before she got off, then in 10 mintues, another darker one who strangely walked past an availible seat and stood at the rear exit for one bus stop travel duration and then almost mechanically walked back to the vacant seat to be there when I got off with my two biddies.

Then a new internet modem by dint of the cable company offering me faster internet and TV (phone stays the same) for $20/month less, even if I don't have any use for TV. And after the installer has gone, I find out it is Wi-Fi -funny they didn't mention this as I don't want spurious EMF signals added to my life, more than I already have (1,600 Gauss measured in 2009). But as two prospective locations to where I am to move Jan. 2012 have wi-fi, it just might be all about getting me ready, as in bathing me in more EMF signals like much of the rest of the population the utility serves. And lo, if the installer didn't leave the two brown cardboard boxes behind when they always take them with them; that he slinked out didn't go unnoticed.

And my perp-abetting mother gets a call from the forest nursery and I find out that the interviewer phoned the wrong number, but anyhow, I start work on Friday at a tree nursery for four weeks, five days a week, weekends off. I will be borrowing the FFF Ford Escape vehicle each weekday at 1430h or so, and driving it to work, getting off at midnight. I expect plenty of coworkers to be wearing red, as it is a prime gangstalk color when the daylight goes to night, when one's vision shifts from retinal cones (bright light) to rods (low light), an abidding perp research interest from the get-go when this fucking insane abuse torrent was unleashe upon me in 04-2002. And handling plant roots at this time too, another insane obsession of the perps.

Another tanning salon visitation, this time they had me wait past my reservation time for 8 minutes to view the three blonde babes proceed outside, each a few minutes apart. This time, it was another female assistant's duty to show her cleavage and dip her head down with a low top to reveal ample breasts. After a "warm up" of pit lamping me with two vehicles one after the other with sidecast from their headlights, one of the blondes proceeded to her beat-up mid-1980 Ford F250 pickup outside and start the engine, turn on the headlights to illuminate the waiting area and then hallway for the length of the facility. She sat there for at least four minutes before finally departing, having executed the pre-tanning session pit-lamping from outside the tanning salon into it while I was kept isnside. On my two block walk to the tanning salon I was also "warmed up" by prior pit-lamping by at least four bicycles, three of them on this wretched strobing they now like to do with LED lights.

Once out of the tanning salon, I get the ponytail male gangstalker with an apparent swath of hair down his cheek. I go to the LD store to shop and get further gangstalked all over the place with these strange setups of dudes standing together but apparently not associated. One stood 12" or less behind the other, both still for at least five seconds, and then they proceed in file, with the follower gangstalker still on the heels of the first one. The first one was pretending not to know that there was a co-Fuckwit beside him when still, and then when walking, and I don't see how anyone could fail to notice someone on their heels. I once took a picture of this dude from across the street walking parallel to me, and a negro dude walking 2' behind him as if marching soldiers in all its ludicrousness. And lo, if the picture didn't get messed with to show that they were much further apart and the ridiculous element of this scenario was removed from my digital camera. (They could also mess with film pictures in the same way).

Back to the LD gangstalk; once these strange two dudes passed by, one serially tailing the other, there was an orange coated male Fuckwit partially obstructing the aisle, just where the dude pair stopped for five seconds to do their faux buddy clustering. And by the time I got to pass by the orange coat, why, another identical orange-coated female Fuckwit was standing on the other side of the aisle, constricting the space through which I would pass. That is to say, the female orange-coast stood exactly where the serial dude gangstalk pair stopped for this perverse five seconds, and created a constriction with a male orange-coat on the other side of the aisle. Fucking ridiculous that I cannot be allowed to walk anywhere without these strange setups over coat color, male and female variations and the rest of the insane Fuckover Freakshow which abounds everywhere I go. That I had just been at the tanning salon added to the scripted perversity, as they are always more beserk after a tanning salon visit. And plenty of extra red gangstalking vehicle out and about too.

Then in the last intersection of two before I get to my building, the ponytail male outside of the salon re-emerged from a building corner to get suddenly closer, and lo, if that seeming swath of hair wasn't a 6" long, 1.5" wide fully filled in tattoo down the side of his face. Not the most disgusting tattoo I have seen, but the most blatant. Funny how he managed to time his re-arrival after I had delayed my path back from the salon in the LD store, and pop out from behind a corner that the Fuckwits so like to do, get suddenly closer and in my face.

Enough detailing the inanity, though for the next month, Mon-Fri, it will be different in that I will be staying at the FFF house after returning the vehicle after midnight. Which will likely mean that I will take most of my usual breakfast foods there, adding yet more permutations and combinations and juxtaposition into this insane and relentless Fuckover, predicated on the abusers not wanting to come out of the closet for over 9.5 years. How fucking stupid is that?

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