Sunday, June 29, 2014

Post Yoga Inclement Weather

Sunny all day, and some more leg tanning, which seems to "happen" on yoga days of late. About 10 students in the class, and the other male, who I had not seen there, goes to the exact same location as do the other two males who seem to rotate, never two at once. Like WTF; how did he seem to know it was the spot (15', behind the central pillar) the other males regularly use? Go figure.

Tuesday, one day after yoga, and the perps pulled a good one; all (work) day rain for someone working in a vineyard. But that wasn't enough by any means. The had me "forget" my gumboots, so my feet were soaked all day. And I got totally mindfucked into not putting on my rain pants (which I had), so I got soaked all the more. The owners offer their black rain gear and I accept, wearing it for the afternoon. At the end of the work day (1500h) the rain stops, and I wear my shorts which are not soaking wet. I do two hours of extra work at this other vineyard and the weather is just fine for what I was wearing.

Again, tucking at the vineyard, and the gas (CO2) delivery truck comes and backs in. I ask him if he is going to pick up the three gas cylinders there, but no, he says, he is here to drop a new one off. OK, I say, as I am not the only one who uses the CO2. He drops off the cylinder and does a whole lot more clunking around, and eventually drives up and finds me to sign for reciept. He makes a comment about how nice it is to listen to music out in the sunshine. I say it isn't quite like that, as the boss is on my ass to get more rows done each day. He says, no kidding, I got a computer in my truck that logs where I am and my speed etc. Then he continues on this rant, complaining it takes 15 min. to get a coffee at a certain drive-in coffee shop chain. And while in mid rant, some of his spittle flys out of his mouth and lands on my cheek. Then he tells me that the three CO2 bottles that were there were empty, and I say that is fine, as I wasn't sure because I don't handle the gas cylinders often enough to know if they were empty. (I use the pressure gauge when it is installed, which it wasn't). Anyhow, since all this intense abuse began in 04-2002, I now know how spittle manages to self eject from one's mouth and land in embarassing circumstances. Usually it is my spittle, but this time I was the landing site. It is all about getting a mouth energy reading while speaking I have come to conclude.

About 10 minutes later my boss comes back from another part of the vineyard, not anywhere near the driveway where the above mentioned gas delivery guy was. She said she heard about it and that he picked up the empties as well. Like WTF; how did she know when she was not either a witness to the delivery/drop off, but in a remote corner of the vineyard? I have given up on these momentary mysteries, and conclude that she heard from the Perp Harassment Net that all those I interact seem to be on. Ever notice how often they look up, and past the TI?

Tucking vines again, then to the extra job, then more tucking. Then the rain comes on when I was ready to start a fourth row. I leave early, and lo, a massive vehicular gangstalk (30 vehicles at 1800h in a small town) on the way home, taking a detour route as the high school graduation event had blocked my usual route.

When I get back I see the landlord has got someone to finish their plaster job of the plywood covered opening in the wall that should of been done last year when he removed the air conditioner and put in a heat pump unit. Then while cooking dinner I discover that there is plaster crumbs and dust on my dining table, which means the landlord must of been in here without my permission. So... after a screaming fit, as this is the second time I have had a "plaster attack" in a year at this place, I cleaned it up with the vacuum cleaner; the table, the carpet underneath - and who is it I know who loves to make mess, dust, and have vaccuum cleaners in my midst?

More inclement weather, raining most of the day with some unnoticed stoppage because the vine foliage was so wet. And just when I wanted to get to my next job, why, it began to rain again. I drove to the job site, still raining, and got a text message eventually to cancel work. By then I had re-dressed into my rain gear and gumboots. If I didn't have a bank stop on the way home, I would of driven in my rain gear. So.. I took it off but kept my gumboots for driving, and stopped at the bank. As regular readers will know, any kind of financial transaction event is a gangstalk/harassment event, and all the more in unusual foot wear. True enough, they screwed me out of the bank parking, and so I went around the corner to the street, and lo, if a white sedan wasn't leaving a stall next to the bank, and so I waited for them to vacate it, and I moved in within 10 seconds or less. The bum and fat boy was there as one loathsome entity in the lobby doing back and forths behind me, pretending to be confused. A faux bum on his cell phone was leaning against a building wall, and was still there when I returned to my vehicle. A few others coursed by for this simple check deposit, and I was out of there soon enough.

Job productivity is another favorite perp theme they constantly arrange. I tuck vines into rows, and it seems that it goes so slow sometimes, and when I think I should have three rows done before break (3x 1 hour each), why, I only got two done. I seem to be going quickly, and I have no idea why such work takes so much time. Late in the day, I had 45 minutes left, and a new row; I swore I would never get it done (based on the previous production rate in the day), but started anyhow, and lo, if I didn't get it all tucked. So why is it that comparable rows take 1.5 hours each, and then later, only 45 min.? I don't know, but the perps pull these production rate protractions (mostly) and a few production rate increases games all the time. Back in my team swimming days of 1989 to 1999, I could never figure out why everyone else got dressed so much faster than I when I applied myself to the same endeavor with no interruptions or dallying. They weren't visible to me, in the next aisle with the through traffic, but it was one of those imponderables I could never figure out. Not until this abuse started up, and I rewrote my life's events in a covert harassment and arrangement context could I get to understand. What is it that so attracts the perps to production rate numbers as well altering the events and ongoing time perception that goes with such activity. Don't know.

Saturday, and the usual start is to visit the laundromat, and do my regular duty of two loads, one of cottons, the other with synthetic fabric garments. The former gets put in the dryer, the latter comes back and is air dried on two racks I have. At this time of year it is put outside, but of course that is governed by the weather. Until today, it was one or the other. But today, the perps decided that they wanted some of each, so at first it looked promising to be dried outside, but later, dark threatening clouds rolled in and I took the racks of clothes inside to finish drying.

A full leg wax today, from a woman with almost red hair, a sort of reddish brown. I suppose if the perps want to test me for abreactions over red hair, and have been at it for 12 years of sustained abuse, they just might try differing shades of almost red hair. Anyhow, she was good to chat with, and topics from aliens, free energy, conspiracy theory, the state of high school teaching, and the like kept me talking while she ripped hairs from my hide. Though later, once I got home, I found she "forgot" a 3" wide strip of hairs running mid thigh to mid calf. How does one miss that much hair? I don't know, but the supervision at this spa training school is decidedly slack since the last supervisor, as she was totally on top of what the students were doing. The regions left unwaxed by the last student were cleaned up, and later I waxed this "forgotten" hair at my place.

As usual, total pandemonium once I got out of the spa salon, as in gangstalking. A young woman in a turquoise gown pacing on the sidewalk some 50' away looked decidedly out of place even if she was on her cell phone. At one point she turned her back to me and her white brassiere was plainly evident. Not that I know much about the contingencies of wearing gowns and how to best hide undergarments etc. but it looked a bit trashy. Then a parade of at least 10 vehicles passing by blocked my exit from the parking lot for a time, and some 60' away, a four way stop was slowing traffic in all directions, including one ditz who couldn't get through as the lane was occupied. Yet more E-W traffic at my next stop, and ever more vehicls backed up. All for a four minute drive back to my place, with lunch yet to be eaten (1250h). I must have some special energetic properties after waxing or hair plucking, and I suppose the multi-color vehicle show somehow feeds into that. The perps like to put on extra gangstalking anytime they can extend my meal times.

Then onto my second job, tucking vines at a vineyard. Some four hours of it, and nice to be left alone, though the road noise was extra loud and the HD motorcycles were out in force. This would be the first time that I would of done vineyard work following a leg waxing (hair pulling), and I suppose it was a big deal for the perps for whatever reason.

Sunday, and one spent mostly on this part time vineyard job, doing tucking. That is, arranging the shoots to be between three pairs of parallel trellis wires so they grow straight up in the space between the posts. Its tedious, and each row takes about 40 minutes. Again, heavy on the road noise and HD motorcycles with some added loathsome noise of 4 wheel drive buggies of the neighbors. Don't people get their mufflers fixed anymore?

Mostly overcast, though later it was bright enough to wear shorts, the ones that roll up at the hems and become more like swim trunks. The usual cavalcade of vehicles around me when I departed; the post plant tending moments seem to be a big deal for the perps. As usual, extra noise whenever I come to the end of a row, and then turn around to tuck the opposite side; just the usual vehicle noise of many kinds (per above) plus barking dogs, overheadaircraft etc.

And three stops on the way home to finish up the weekend's shopping list. At LD I got jerked with another fake sale, where three items for one low price didn't apply, after I was sent to the aisles to retrieve the sale notice tags. It turned out it applied to a different size, even if the size I had was plastered with these sales tags. I swore I would never go for these jerkaround sales again, and lo, I got screwed for it. All to send me elsewhere while my items were bagged and another gangstalker got through the checkout in my temporary absence. Then the Fat Girl cashier voided the sale and then retrieved all the items from the bag and ran them through again. And how many times must a man suffer hi-jinx whenever he engages in a financial transaction? Some day I will ask the bard himself, and I am sure he knows the answer, and no, it is not blowing in the wind.

Outside of LD this 60 y.o. male was standing in the parking lot, looking around like he was lost. Then he leads ahead of me and goes right past my vehicle and eventually goes to his black Ford Escort 60' away. Fine, I get these stand-around male stalkers often, seeming to be utterly stunned and not have any legitimate reason to be standing there. I drive around to the other end of the mall, go to a tea shop that had gamed me with its early closures, and lo, if there wasn't a punkish wierdo there with his girlfriend. I give them a wide berth, and eventually the sales assistant leaves them and attends to me, sucking me in to cross over where this pair was standing. Anyhow, I get the tea, and then just before the sales assistant draws me over to the other till, why, this pair splits apart and I am obliged to pass between them. I pay cash, get my change, and lo, if the male isn't displaying an arm  full  of horribly vivid tattoos on his entire right arm. Like WTF; wierd hair, then the split couple gangstalk, and then the tattoos; why cannot I be left the fuck alone? And to finish it off, the sales assistant gives me this overly gracious faux smile. I say thanks, and I am out of there.

But that wasn't it, I to to the mall exit and lo, if my parking lot male stalker (per above 60 y.o.) isn't standing there in front of the "Out" door jabbering with a fat woman one on each side of the pressure sensitive mat that opens or closes the door. I take an alternate door and pass by this asshole who shuffles his feet to make it look like he was going to back into me, but didn't. Like WTF; he tails me between one end of the mall (driving through the parking lots), and then does his "Cheersing" stalk/jabber while blocking egress to the automatic "Out" door. Why is it that the people of Penticton are so strange that they block mall entrances/exits while pretending to be oblivious that it is the dumbest place to have a conversation? The usual answer I have is that they are strange, or are being jerked with my someone who is strange. Take your pick.

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