Tuesday, September 03, 2013

Gone Domestic

The city-wide triathalon race (Penticton Challenge) forced me to take alternate routes to alternate stores, one being the Perpland called Walmart where I was nearly head-butted by a purported staff member a few months ago. I bought a food processor (different store) and a vacuum cleaner (Walmart) based on the cleaning lady's advice,. I also had to cross the race course under the guidance of the volunteer to access the ATM. Hmm, hounded for 11 years over every financial transaction I make and the color of my money in my wallet, and so I get to cross a street that some 1400 triathalon participants (bike course at the time) have passed by. Can we say planned gangstalking event any more louder?

And so I got busy making a number of freezer foods as I had a surplus of cucumbers, zucchinis and tomatoes on hand. And too, my triathalon participating brother, made sure to gobble up some of my salad that had been prepared by the said food processor, as I was eating with him and his family before race day. The deal was that I was to bring my own food to their motel room as they didn't have enough, so what I brought was for me alone, at least in theory. But no, and without asking, he helps himself to my just-made (by the new food processor) cucumber chicken salad. And with these members of the First Feral Family actively abetting the perp's objectives, and with 11 years of the perps hounding me over what knives and cutting utensils I use, why was I so surprised he hogged down my food when he had his plate full?

And lo, if the FFF didn't "happpen" to be in the neighborhood of my vineyard work site near the end of the work day, and I gave them a tour around. As in FFF gangstalking my place of work.

Then a "free" ticket to the triathalon awards ceremony for volunteers, athletes and family, where there was no end of assholes parading behind my back. Chairs not belonging to any tables were ringed around our table, and one was placed as a choke point where all the gangstalkers took a large step over the seat. Like WTF; none of them moved the chair out of the way? Then when the prize winners started to loiter around me with their thick plexiglas plaques, it was time do my "goodbyes" and get the fuck out. Even that wasn't good enough as a male gangstalker tailed me out, and to his car some 80' away from mine, and then tailed me for my first third of the way home. I don't do crowds on first principle as part of this obscene harassment, and "somehow" I forgot this very elementary precaution.

A day of vineyard work; another indeterminate weather day, mostly cloudy. Though the rain started enough to make me get my raincoat and return to work, and lo, if the rain didn't stop within 20 minutes and cause me to be wearing the Goretex (read, Teflon) coat for the next 2 hours. The perps just love that Goretex fix; wear it for a time, and then have me to take it off. All pants wearing today, no shorts, and with the new knee-pads the perps are so keen about, possibly because it has a dash of red on the label. And I see that these knee-pads "somehow" came with two L side knee pad inserts (foam part) while the fabric was sewn as a L-R pair. Funny how these things "happen" to me with such increased consistency since the Day of Infamy, when they went berserk/overt in my Seattle apartment 04-2002.

A leg wax after work; with a prior stop over at the house to change up my clothes first, as I didn't want to be caught in my short shorts. Running late is always a fun time for the perps to arrange extra adversity.

I don't know why the perps like me to pluck body hair, but they have increased the "need" to pluck the odd hairs from my cheeks instead of shaving them off. Seemed like a more permanent solution at the time. But lo, if they didn't increase the incidence of seeming errant hairs on my cheeks by at least ten fold. I can now count on plucking some 20 to 30 hairs out of my cheeks, not counting the beard region EACH DAY now. I am invaded to every last pore and cell I figure. And plucked hairs that are flicked off the tweezers and into the sink most often teleport back to my face, and to the location near where I am going to pluck the next hair. Once, I saw the prior plucked hair arrive between the tweezer tips as I was about to pull on the next one. And too, blackish masers and other magnetic field oddities erupt around just plucked hair or else the tweezers or my fingers that hold them.

And in the last half hour of this Friday workday, why cat shit/litter box ended up on knee pads and boots at 1530h. That was enough to get me infuriated and riled up and set me to for the next exercise of high perp interest, getting my old eyeglass frames back and my new lenses put in them, which was the original plan until the optician somehow broke the frames last week. All this juggling with my old frames while he had the two progressive frames and swapped lenses for 40 min. begat me these strange internal head sensations each time I stepped out of the store, both with the old (non-progressive ones) and the new lenses in the old, now repaired frames. The same strange sensation came on last week when I put on my prescription swim goggles for the first time in 10 years. Just what are the perps doing to my visual cortex when I swap eyeglasses?

A two tone olive drab (ridiculous combination of shirt and shorts) dressed woman was hanging around at the opticians when I got my first pair of glasses on and a child was posted at the seat at the door, with her spine extended straight and slouched down. I thought the child belonged to the woman, but no. I had gone to the LD store across town to look around and attend to sending a letter by snail mail to wait out the 40 min. before the glasses were ready. And lo, if the two tone olive drab dressed woman doesn't appear in the very section I was at, looking over shampoos. She was doing the "look elsewhere" oblivious act in this blatant obvious gangstalking, and without the child. Convenient that, and no coincidence in "finding" me at the very location I was waiting out the turnaround time before the eyeglasses were ready. And a full-on vehicular gangstalking through all of this wait time as well. There is something about eyeglasses the perps need to find out, and sending the frames away for a week to get fixed wasn't enough.

Then onto yoga, and in some kind of set up, the rest of the class wanted to do headstands against the wall at the end. As I don't usually go Fridays, I didn't have a lot to say about it. And lo, if I didn't somehow crash against the wall and tumble down, thankfully with no injuries.

About 10 min. before class end I hear the god-forsaken HD motorcycle noise outside and I didn't think anything more of it as this particularly infernal racket has become a constant wherever I go now. And then when I exit after class, why, two HD motorcycles are outside some 50' away, and one rider is engaging my mat neighbor as to where a certain business is located. Like WTF; why did the HD riding Fuckwits sit outside a certain yoga studio for ten minutes to then talk to members of the class when they could of entered the building and talked to the desk attendant? And my mat neighbor was in a red top, and her red car was parked unusually close to mine, and so I departed slowly while she was standing talking to the HD motorcyclist, serving as a stationary human next to my moving vehicle, red against red. Can it get more obvious than this? Always.

I ended up laundering my knee pads at the laundromat last night, getting part of the forced mess cleaned up. The usual gangstalking dreck there, this time featuring doddering elder-males in ridiculous shorts and spindly legs. Ugh, as in most Unfavored.

Then when outside my residence cleaning the cat shit off boots, the dude yap starts up, and stays that way while repeated aircraft turns overhead, same noisy single engine aircraft. Dude yapping background noise is most prevalent of late, say, the past three weeks.

More on the farm worker colleague in Victoria; a "Love you" valediction (closing) to her email, following the last few with "Miss you". Correct me if I am wrong or mistaken, but these would suggest intimacy which is NOT the case at all. Especially from 500km away, and no revealing pics of any kind in either direction. The last time I saw her was in 01-2013, and as mentioned in a recent posting, the perps put on a military vehicle escort, overhead helicopters and a mid-day traffic jam enroute to visit. (All clothes stayed on all the time, and nothing suggestive crossed any one's lips or was otherwise inferred).

Another round of rage-ification when using the new food processor. Not forgetting that it was last weekend that I purchased it and put it to use, and then took the salad I made in it to my brother's motel suite and had dinner with him and his family, pre-race (triathalon) dinner. And of course he jumped on it and helped himself when it was intended for me alone as I was bringing my own dinner, per prior agreement. So... he got to eat the food I cut and chopped with the new food processor, and we know how rabid the perps are over my use of cutlery and the act of cutting food, be it plant or animal.

The ear-ringing started up again; all week it has slowly got less, but then they added these ear pressure stunts (swimmer's ear) that were not defeatable by conventional means. And it seems likely that the worsening ear pressure after swimming in a pool at regular swim practice must of been the perps at work. Just imagine, they could detect the presence of ear pressure by remote means, even before they went berserk/overt in 2001.

Chevron fill up of gasoline, replete with HD motorcyclists at the next pump having a jawing session for me to overhear again. Relentless dudes babbling of late; gasoline filling, outside my residence, at the ATM etc. And the wretched Chevron gasoline pump did not give me a receipt again, now for the fourth consecutive fueling, all different pumps. Just fucking insane, and all to piss me off at the moment of post-fueling and transaction processing.

hiking; attempted what I thought was going to be a high bluff, some 200m tall, and had the hiking book and lo, if the trail didn't go up this high bluff, but only one of 30m or so. I had my hiking-stalking party with me, a family of four and a dog, and the kids running ahead and back again, though thankfully this ended when I took my bluff route. I did related trail discovery, ending up at a private trail system, and then retreating to the look-out. Unbelievably no one tailed me, and I even had an hour of tanning time with unclouded sunshine, though with some haze in the air for a generalized dimming. The cloud-over-sun games have almost become predictable over the past two weeks, and unfettered sunshine (apart from a general haze) was a welcome relief. And no gangstallkers while trail discovering and tanning; this would be about the third time in 11 years of hounding me that they backed off on gangstalking.

Some purchases at the organic farm begat making green salsa with tomatillas tonight with the food processor. Yet again the perps befuddled me enough to have me rage-ified. Not the hissing spitting kind, when I have neighbors each side and below, but in this detached nanny suite. There was a reason for this residence beginning in June, and that was to get me back to a full blown rage-fication state. (Frequent and continuous). But of course while screaming at the assholes for pulling food or implements from my hands, or teleporting onion skins from the garbage back onto the counter top after cleaning it as two examples, they also suck the air out of my lungs while yelling at these abusive telekinetic incursions so to unexpectedly moderate the volume of my scathing rejoinders. Which then prompts another yelling at the assholes for sucking the air from my diaphram; and so it goes. Last weekend's acquisition of a food processor has brought on all kinds of new abuse, like having me turn the work bowl the wrong way each successive time. (It is real simple, just like a turning a nut; right to tight, left to release. But am I allowed to know that with a new kitchen implement? No-sir-ee; we need the victim to get screaming infuriated yet again, and besides, any new tool or machine activity is "cause" for extra abusive incursions).

A hike, using a guide book, and finding myself at the planned objective even if I didn't think it was. Talk about FUD-ed.

I got onto sharpening my pruners immediately after my hike; it seems the perps wanted me to do this while my hiking boots were on and before dinner. As always, pre-mealtimes are high harassment and key activity moments for the Thems. 

More facial hair plucking of late; I thought I was  going to deal with the six or so per side that I shaved off each morning, and save shaving them each day. I am now getting new facial hairs to replace those every day now, some 10 to 15 hairs per side of my face each day in this ever escalating game. I even get new hairs to pluck on my cheeks that somehow arrive after I have ensured that I got them all. They arrive without feeling anything, and always when examining the other side of my face to find them when I return to look. Another stunt that is occuring with almost-every-time regularity is that the just-plucked facial hair, after being deposited in the sink, somehow arrives back at the next site where I am going to pluck the next one. I have even seen the prior plucked hair arrive between the tweezers as I about to close in on getting the next one. As before, hair plucking is accompanied my masers that lift off from the hair and float with it into the sink and then dissipate.

Be-labor Day it should be for TI's, as in the verb; to explain, worry about, or work at (something) repeatedly or more than is necessary. As in getting forced into doing tasks more than once and have accomplishments sabotaged repeatedly. Competence is not allowed in Perpland.

A full on screaming rage at the perp for creating a forced fumble of my eyglasses with new lenses in them across the bathroom tile floor. As they have fucked every pair of glasses I have had for 40 years, I expected the worst, as they exploit such occasions to damage things. So far, and no night-time sabotage yet, no scuffs of other damage to my lenses or frame; talk about managed miracles.

And a shut-in day effectively, working hard to with the new vacuum cleaner and then getting hit with a 2.5 hour nap attack. And no, I don't see this as a compensation for the perps keeping me up for most of the night and treating me to doctors in my two hour sleep they permitted.

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