Sunday, May 29, 2016

Interupted Week

Or should that read disrupted week, and we are talking about Wednesday so far. Monday was a national holiday, and no yoga. Tuesday wasn't at the regular vineyard they were spraying, so off to the casual labor vineyard for a day of tucking vines between the vines to ensure they stay vertical for the growing season.

Some 25 of us, only a few Caucasians and the rest being Punjabis to do the work. With this system of moving the wires up and down in advance of the shoot growth, I reckon we covered some 30 acres in one day. That doesn't include the crew of Mexicans who were evident in the morning, though we didn't work with them.

Now Wednesday, at the regular vineyard, now doing tucking as well for the first time this season.

Then Thursday, the whole day off to do a medical test, then adding in my own appointments to fill out the day. Then Friday, the regular vineyard, Then Saturday, back to the casual labor vineyard. Never more than a single day at one employer, either followed by the other employer or else a disruption day to follow. What the perps get from all this I have no idea.

I went to hot yoga tonight (Wednesday, to keep me on track), in lieu of the Monday power yoga. Some 15 other women yogis in the room, no other males for whatever reason. The most remarkable woman was at the next mat, and had a arm full of intense tattoo patterns, paisly and the like, and way too disgusting to look at for more than a second or two. That she faked me out at first with a long sleeved garment at first, and then when I turned my head in her direction for the first pose, why, she was sleeveless in her full tattoo splatter. Awful, by my standard, and full shock value to say the least. And the instructor in all her lithe and attractive slimness obliged in some respect too, tats on her foot, on her back and one on her forearm. What is it about this town where even the women deck themselves out in this atrocious self inflicted abomination? Call me a fusty fart if you want; if I loathe the sight of tattoos, I don't see why I have to be hounded with this shit all the time, and putting them on women doesn't dress it up any better. As always, putting male adornments or clothing on women seems to be some kind of perp entre to cross the Favored (women, without Unfavored features) with Unfavored males, in all their typical dress and adornments, especially from the 1950's. Call it (typical) gender feature merging or some such. Male ponytails are another one the perps like to play on me of late.

Yesterday while driving past the 40' grass median in the adjacent block, they put on some apparent local residents, one grey haired pony tailed male with his shirt off, and a humongous gut no less. I haven't seen anything quite so disgusting in the flesh for a long time. I cannot conceive how it could of been anything less than orchestrated, as no one hangs in public looking like this, except the beach in the summer perhaps.

Thursday, and a day off work for a prostate biopsy. I have a normal sized one (40cc) for my age as it turns out but as my PSA number is up, the ever cautious urologist decided I needed one. I shall learn the results June 7, but for now I don't care. In fact, I would take the cancer and get out of here if I could. We shall see.

The usual parade of back-and-forthing staff while I was in the waiting area, with gown on. That included the technician as it turned out, but no surprise there. Very often the very people that I am to see in an appointment while in the waiting room are evident beforehand, usually more than once. That ridiculous interview of 10-2014 at QG winery was another example.

There wasn't too many folks (just two) in the Scanning-Radiology waiting area when I arrived and got the gown, but when I exited an hour later, why, it was like the arrivals at a busy airport. At least they put on an prominent attractive blonde woman even if she was partially encroaching on the exit door way. No helicopters and aerial buzzing when I exited the building, but they put on at least one prominent brown vehicle on my way back.

Later today, more bodily pain incursions, though self inflicted. I wouldn't count a hair cut as such, but it was overdue, and then I could move on to a leg and back wax at the same location. The latter two were of minor pain, as I have done this before. I find it interesting the perps scripted an internal pain, again minor, of prostate tissue sampling and then external skin pain, waxing, in the same day. What they get from this I don't know, but one can add in the now regular habit of facial hair plucking into this mix of pain infliction they need to impose.

I had two young fat girls working on me waxing, and the supervisor was also quite hefty, at least 230lb. The odd blonde girl would cruise by from time to time, so I suppose she was on blonde-ness aura presentation duty, as some kind of temporary reference. I just seems the perps need to calibrate on an blonde girl every so often, and ensure that I see one at the correct moment of whatever is transpiring.

Besides, the perps kept me looking at my increasingly hairy legs of the last three weeks as some kind of reminder of something loathesome. I don't care for hairy legs, and it does make me wonder if they are at their games again of exposing me to Unfavored male features, possibly from the days they wiped my recall aged 2 to 5 y.o. What they might of done to me is unknown to me, but if the male features of the Unfavored freak show are anything to go by, it doesn't seem positive. And in reading Brice Taylor's "Thanks for the Memories....", and the litany of sexual abuse heaped on young children to service the chosen abusers (all male), it does make me wonder if the perps are still at their abreaction elicitation games still. (Abreactions are subconsciously experience stressors that are recalled in some way for all time). My loathing of curly hair just may also fit into this same rationale.

And later when back, and outside greasing my boots with a conditioning compound, the UPS delivery guy "happens" to come by with a parcel from STP, collecting more cash from the border crossing fees they so like to exact. And it so "happens", the said boots I was cleaning are from STP, purchased 3 years ago, now modified with a new sole and strengthened heel. Pure speculation of course, but perhaps the perps were looking for the new items from STP "vibe" to be compared to the 3 year old (and much worn) "vibe" of the older boots. And of course, a brown box parcel from the delivery man in brown and having exited a deep brown colored delivery vehicle. And do the perps every love browning around. As always, all the quotes around "happen" relate to the seeming fact that nothing that I do/see/think or otherwise experience is coincidence, but arranged down to the millisecond here in the ultimate containment in situ prison, TI World.

Rain this morning in the vineyard, and for this profession, it doesn't usually happen. The boss lady said we could pack it in, but we decided to finish a row and then decide, and lo, if the rain didn't drop off at decision time. So we kept at it, but that didn't stop the rain from increasing in intensity again. We stuck with, even if soaked to the arms and back, as the rain water drains past the raincoat cuffs on wicks onto my shirt. By noon the rain finally relented, and we had some sun even.

Finally some progress on the sabotaged tights I so like for winter time wear. (Mind you, I bought an alternative pair recently). They have a fleece lining and I got blown off by a 60 day defective merchandise warranty from the store. I wrote to the company who makes them, and they indicated there is a one year warranty. Progress in protracted and halting increments, as the perps had me not do anything for month before "getting" the idea to search the web for a email address as the company only had a phone number on their website. Inconveniently, the phone number wasn't accessible from Canada, so more adversity along the way. Perhaps I will finally make some progress. And the perps do love returns, and otherwise sending used items back in this long run game I suffer under.

An early start, owing to a 0600h work start at the casual labor vineyard this Saturday. I drove there in my red courtesy car, a Scion, as I took my vehicle in for repair. So I figured, why not use their car and get a day's work in? A mistake, going to the Toyota dealer, even if it started with a $40 oil change. Because the bill was $550 by the time the upsell, the requested minor add-on repairs, and the ignition wire "problem" erupted. The upsell in part was to replace the spark plugs, which was likely needed it as I hadn't done anything about them for four years. But, the "ignition wires fell apart", and they didn't have any in stock (unbelievable) so they got a wire set from a local after market supplier. I feel rooked to say the least, and the perps know that I am very guarded about any repairs at any car dealership, but "somehow" I lost my vigilance and got screwed for a big one. That is 6 days of farm worker pay for that bill alone. Thanks a fucking bunch.

It was tucking vines all day today, something I don't mind as it is so relatively simple to do. The usual multicultural gang were there, the Punjabis, Mexicans and a few Caucasians in the mix.

While tucking vines I got a call from Farm Worker Friend, but as I was busy, I couldn't talk long. She said she would phone in the evening, but didn't, not even after I sent a text. I hadn't heard from her since 01-2016, and had even sent an email about three weeks ago and never heard back. I figured I was on her black list for some reason, and then this call from the blue. Then no delivery on the later promise. It seems calls have specific timing as well.

It is rare that they ask me to work Sunday (tomorrow), but owing the the above mentioned car repair hit, I had better not turn down the opportunity to keep me out of hock. The perps have me on a squandering spree of late, and I am getting extremely tensed about spending anything more than rent, groceries and utilities. And that was before the car repair hit of today.

Anyhow, tomorrow I return to my casual labor vineyard job in my regular vehicle. No doubt that might be the whole deal; work at one place having driven in a red car, and return the next day having driven my usual (mid-grey) vehicle. Exciting times in perp nonconsensual human experimentation indeed.

Back to the early start; as it turn out at 0520h, I wasn't the only one out in the neighborhood. There was some kind of "social scene"; bums, blonde girl in knee length dress, hugging players, and then a taxi swooping in at the last second to then block my lane egress and then disgorge some horribly tattoo-ed (two arms full) male. So I had to back up 80' in this red courtesy call and take an alternate route out. And as part of this "social scene" why, two groups of neighbors were out standing around. All this arranged the fucking day I have this courtesy car. Seems like a perp setup to me.

Sunday, and a work day at the casual labor vineyard. Myself and the Mexicans and the Punjabis this time, no other ethic representation, me being the only Caucasian. As usual, the "ignore me" routine, save the boss man, though by the afternoon one bearded and turbaned Punjabi elder said that we "work together well", and so we combined as a pair on either side of the row for at least 4 rows. These rows are over 400m long I reckon. No major conversation of course, as his English wasn't the best. And for the perps, plenty of those Unfavored vignettes they could place in front of me from two feet away (other side of the row); turban, long beard, brown skin, elder male, and dressed in those funny pajama outfits they so like. Not a big deal, though being the perennial victim is always a grim show after 14 years of it.

I must say my car's performance has improved with the new spark plugs and ignition wire set. I had given up on any performance improvements.

No call from Do Not Post, having left a message. "Instead", my mother phones. I cannot count all the times when I expect a call, and someone else phones. Considering how few calls I get, that takes planning. I am optimistic Do Not Post will call though perhaps it won't be for tonight.

I caught, or was allowed to be exposed to, a full frontal sabotage of my music software yesterday. The Artists section was listing Albums, the same as the Albums choice. I checked it twice, and it was malfunctioning. Only after closing the Artist section and re-opening it, did it "correct" itself. Blatant software sabotage.

Anyhow, getting this posted for the week.

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