10-27-2014
Monday, and the large male oaf came back to yoga. Last week he came in late and arrived at the mat-space beside me for some curious reason. This week someone scooped my regular spot, and so the oaf was on my L side behind me. Not out of earshot though, as I could still hear his wheezing and gasping. Apparently the logic of taking an introductory course first, before this Power Yoga class hasn't dawned on him, or is it that someone else is jerking his chain, like it seems always for every scenario.This time they installed a late coming babe beside me, on my R side. Much better landscape all told.
An evening time discovery of mold on suitcase and briefcase; leather with cordura fabric. Worse yet, it seemed to originate from an internal wall, and not the outside wall. They molded boots, stretch pants, a pair of gloves, suitcase, backpack, briefcase and a few other items.
10-28-2014
Lots of work with red wine, and predictably, lots of deep red (metallic though), vehicles around on my way back at day's end.
Heavy helicopter coverage tonight, at least six since sundown, normally they don't fly in the dark. But they could be practicing instrument (night time) flying of course.
10-29-2014
They got me up 30 minutes late this Wednesday; hence no front torso
shaving. Have I mentioned how often this "happens" on Wednesday, the day
the cleaning lady comes to the house? Why, it was last week. Seemingly, the teflon coated rub strip presents some kind of remotely sensed analytical problems even after 12.5 years of this abused tenure.
The assholes had me put my leftover dinner food on top of the fridge instead of in it, something I have routiney done everytime for the 12 years of this insane abuse. I discover the food on the fridge in the morning when getting my lunch together and I was screamingly furious. I tossed it into the garbage, which is likely what the stunt was all about in the first place.
The vineyard/winery owners left for Vancouver for a few days, in this ongoing scene of one or both of them in their tag team travels. And lo, if lots of harassment to cause me to vocalize my dismay.
I discovered that one of my fermenting wines was at wrong pH for the last two weeks because I didn't get an email of the test results, and no one told me. Needless to say, I was furious, but not outwardly so.
I tried to move a drum of just-fermented wine, with a plain (unmotorized) drum lifting tool, and lo, if it didn't spin out of my control due to a sudden gravity wave that caused me to fall over and the drum went over too, and even with the lid on, it sprang a leak and lo, dumped red wine all over the place. At first they dithered me into not knowing what to do, then allowed me to spin the drum so the split in the lid was at the top, which staunched the flow for the most part. And then I had the strength to pick it up in one big jerk back to vertical. The spill lost 25L of wine, though it looked a whole lot more.
I was cleaning it up for 5 min or so, and lo, if the neighbor's boy of about 26 y..o. or so and wearing a red T-shirt, didn't happen to come over and ask about the owners who were gone as of an hour earlier. Then some cockamamie dialog about vine pruning, as he works on the adjoining apple farm, and then it seemed he and his father would need personnel to prune for the winter. I volunteered myself as I would be done by early December. But then the story shifted some, and it turned out he wanted to do the pruning, needing extra money in the winter. But then it turned out he would be going out of the country to see a "girlfriend" in the Philippines in January, so WTF. Vine pruning doesn't begin until January or Feburary. Anyhow, it seems the perps needed me to vacate the wine flooded crush pad to show him pruning for some reason. As in removing me from the scene of the mess temporarily.
I had red wine samples in my vehicle, six 125ml bottles, and lo, if the RCMP (Royal Canadian Mendacious Plods) weren't stopping traffic on Eastside Rd, the only sensible route, After extreme effort to get my wallet out, he didn't need to see my drivers licence. An abbreviated dialog was as follows; (He) "Whats new", (Me) "taking wine samples to the lab, with the wine in the bottles, not in me", (He) "OK, have a good day". Like WTF, Wednesday at 1630h, on a po-dunk secondary arterial, and here they are stopping traffic in both directions. Strange that the cop was looking away in the latter part of the dialog; all my prior experience with traffic stops is that they look one in the eye continuously.
Plenty of extra red colored vehicles around me the whole time, and have I mentioned before that the red vehicles come out in abundance when I have red wine samples for the lab- often. and too, of late, when working with red wine as I had been all day today.
10-30-2014
Plenty of screaming at the assholes tonight while making dinner; remotely applied adverse finger control will do it every time, as well the number of kitchen spillings.
A busy day of red wine-making again, and major mess on the floor when filling 50L kegs as one cannot see inside to see if the keg is filling up.
They blocked me twice last night in attempting to order a replacement teapot online. (Having arranged a mug to fall on it and break it inside the cabinet last week). The well known Seattle coffee firm only let me know that the item isn't in stock after I submitted all the details for ordering it. Another outfit wanted a ransom in shipping costs so I declined.
I attempted to order a download on men's hormone health and lo, I got blocked three times for no seeming reason and gave up.
I see my balance for my legal music site also didn't show the transaction for sending them more money. That was last night, and tonight it is the same deal. As always, everything financial is under the tightest control in my TI world, and parsing online orders having different failure points; e.g. transaction goes through but not added to my account, ordering but not paying due to a stocking "problem", the transaction page has an apparent error that makes no sense, and once in a blue moon, I order something and I never get billed for it.
10-31-2014
Halloween and all that, though it is distant notion as I don't have any reminders where I work at the vineyard/winery. And I don't have a place that is accessible from the street to entertain trick or treaters. I was thinking of going to get some groceries tonight, because someone wiped my recall that I ran out of certain staples last night, but somehow I "forgot". Normally I am top of what I need to get and for some reason it just slipped my mind tonight.
More wine-making work today, pumping just-fermented white wine into tanks, as well as treating to prevent oxidation. Of course I was harassed with unconventional abuse all day; the lowest point was when I was cleaning a 500L tank and leaning it over to have the water run out the spigot and lo, if the assholes didn't release my hand and have the tank pitch over and about to crash down on the concrete pad. Thankfully they armed me with quick reflexes, maybe extra quick, and I grabbed it before it hit the ground. I was fucking pissed, and let them know out loud (owners away, and no one else around). I look after things, and especially those belonging to others, and all the more if my job depends on it. I have never, ever, let go of any wine-making object, or anything else of value, and had my fingers open up unbidden by me until this abusive hell rained down on me 04-2002 and hasn't let up since.
More screaming at the assholes again while making dinner; maybe it was the fact that I deviated from my usual forced stock meal due to the above mentioned shortages.
Though, with reversion to PST in two days, and the extra silliness the perps have about dusk onset, and the almighty dinge they like to bring on, this might be the underlying rationale.
Tonight, facial hair plucking (cheeks area, not beard) again, a "habit" they stiffed me with since late 2012. As usual, in the harassed TI context, they arrange masers to float beside the just-plucked hair, follow it from my tweezer to fingers and then into the bathroom sink. The masers are in the form of black-ish fuzzy balls or an irregular filamentous trail some half inch long. Nothing new there to see these things zinging about in any given minute or even more frequent. Seemingly, that wasn't sufficient magnetic energy perturbance/surveillance, as they had a head hair arrive (teleported) in my pinched fingers holding the just-plucked facial hair, and they joined the two, end-to-end. The teleported hair wasn't my own, being jet black (I have dark brown hair) and longer than my own. And what is it about hair from all sources that so intrigues the perps? Read on for more hair follies, though no answer to my question.
The "hair draping/arrivals" that arrive on my face more often (about 2x per bathroom visit) are either jet black or else blonde. They often arrive just after I have exited the shower, which would be highly unlikely for my own hair even.
11-01-2014
An early (0900h) appointment for a haircut and a leg wax for this humble TI who would rather not spend the money, even if it is student rates at training school.
Prior to the above I went to the Seattle coffee shop two blocks away to see if they had teapot. I had my lead ahead stalker/Fat Girl who "happened" to be at a stylist where I had my hair/wax appointment. Two other stylists were also about and out before I entered the building. Outside the coffee shop there was a 1.5' diameter mess of coffee grounds on the sidewalk for crissakes. A professional outfit like that, and "somehow" coffee grounds mess got there and then lies unattended; only in TI World, where even the provenance of food and beverages (energetics) is an obsessive objective. They even put on a negro barista for me to pass by.
I received my hair cut from a female student in fuchsia colored hair, seemingly over blonde hair. And lo, if they didn't parade red (natural color) haired persons behind me and in the mirror while captive in the stylist's chair. Sometimes they had two red hair variants walk toward each other, crossing paths, and then exiting from view both at the same time. The trainee stylist seemed a little scared of me for no seeming reason, though eventually warmed up. Some conversation ensued, but as we were four decades apart, there wasn't much a whole lot of connection. LOL; her mother is only a little older than my daughter, and the stylist learned of the Spice Girls from her mother. Makes me feel a whole lot older, but since I am age regressed to about 30 y.o., (half my age) I often get these age disjunctive conversations. Rarely do I ever get anyone commenting on how young I look.
A large blonde woman customer/stalker at the place I got my haircut and wax made her presence known. And to make things all the more blatant, I get the "facing back" treatment. This is where perps place their operative(s) in a nearby seat, but don't sit in the intended direction, but instead sit 90 degrees offset so their back faces me. I cannot count the number of times this ludicrous perp signature stunt occurred on public transportation, but here it was again in the waiting area. Said large blonde woman, 230lb at least, was at the front desk and departed for outside, with the cashier saying "come back in an hour" (for her appointment). I am sitting in the waiting area after getting my hair cut and before my leg wax for about five minutes, and lo, this same blonde woman comes back in and sits opposite me, some 5' away in the waiting area. Like WTF, I thought she was to be gone for an hour. Then she spins on her seat to arrange her back to face me, and I go, "uh-huh, I have seen this before".
Within five minutes I get called to get my legs waxed and am pointed to the middle of the three treatment bays. Suddenly I need to take a piss and tell the attendant and she is fine with that. About 30 minutes later and when face down, I hear someone in the next (W) treatment bay coming in to get a treatment, and the female customer apologizes as she needs to visit the washroom and needs instructions. On her return, she parts the curtains of the treatment bay I am in, takes a two second look, and then says "wrong one". Well duh, and take a pass on the manners too big sweetie. It was the same large blonde woman from the waiting area, having recognized her pants and her size, all what I could see from my face down position. Like WTF; these cats got everything covered down to the last microsecond and millimeter; so why did she need to take a gander at me face down with my legs exposed? Don't know, and I would not doubt it that she might have had the same leg waxing treatment given the perps' need to do copycatting in vehicular gangstalking.
This afternoon was spent cleaning mold off brief case, suitcase (both made of cordura ballistic nylon) and some winter gloves; worth three hours of remediation. It had to be done outside, hence them sitting outside my door for the week until today. And I am being made to be extra paranoid about mold for whatever reason as the perps are playing up this, all the way to the possibility of moving out.
The assholes made me "forget" that I paid my bills online on Oct. 19, and then today, at least one of them would be overdue. I got cranked about that, went to the three account sites and printed off the statements, and then looked at my online bank account, and lo, there was one paid bill listed. Then I looked at the pending bills list, and lo, the other two were queued up. I am lucky to have 3 biweekly paychecks this past month (October) which saved my ass. Some $250 after bills is to carry me for the next two weeks. And from someone who long had savings and a reserve before this grievous life abuse torrent began 04-2002, thanks a lot, assholes.
And what has become of eslalasforever.wordpress.com ? The blog has been deleted apparently and I miss my shot of TI humor in this grim existence. Maybe that is why the perps took it down perhaps?
11-02-2014
A rare Sunday laundry day. All was quiet when I made multiple trips in the morning, but because I did an additional load for more moldy items, I made an additional laundromat trip after lunch. And lo, if a mighty vehicular gangstalking legion was invoked to do all those things like crossing my path, holding me up with trains of traffic to delay my L turn etc. Said lunch and dinners (same meal, just that lunch is leftovers from making dinner the previous day) have taken on a substantial yellow hue due to putting turmeric in my regular gumbo. (Formerly the contents of my quesadillas that I made for 12 years previously). Add in yellow wax beans grown on the vineyard where I work, and one could say that the perps were yellow color obsessed of late.
More dealing with moldy items today; the laundromat has a ozone cleaning system for hockey gear, so I took my suitcase, briefcase, gloves and backpack to get de-molded with ozone. No doubt of huge perp significance, having travel items with a different laundering/cleaning signature than the contents.
(Almost) needless to say, the perps have been pumping me with ideations as to how to deal with the landlord couple regarding above mention mold outbreak. All afternoon, the main notion was to have me helping the landlord tear down the walls from the inside and clean it up. No such luck in Reality World; they haven't been too helpful on the issue so far and haven't taken any such leadership on getting issues resolved, e.g. the hole in the ceiling that was letting in water on their new carpet.
Anyhow, its Sunday evening and time to close another chapter of this infernal existence.
PS; if you live in Boston, catch Eilen Jewell; my current muse of five albums. Smokey, folky, country, jazzy, bluesy and even a little rocky too. Not for the metal crowd though.
Showing posts with label hair plucking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hair plucking. Show all posts
Sunday, November 02, 2014
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Post Yoga Inclement Weather
06-23-2014
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.
06-24-2014
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.
06-25-2014
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?
06-26-2014
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?
06-27-2014
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.
06-28-2014
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.
06-29-2014
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.
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.
06-24-2014
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.
06-25-2014
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?
06-26-2014
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?
06-27-2014
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.
06-28-2014
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.
06-29-2014
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.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Getting Worse
09-16-2013
A week of few evening hours, so the daily entries are rather sparse. Not to mention I often get cognitively clobbered when I want to write up this blog, and all the supporting detail is purged from my recall at the moment I want to convey it to my readership.
Monday, and always a high perp Fuckover day, this one being memorable in that I am so trashed from yelling or screaming at the assholes all evening, which began brewing first thing I got back from a vexatious day of filtering wine. The forced "forgets", the pulling items from my grasp, the screwing me out of knowing the next step or why I went to the fridge or a cupboard etc.
I had half my ususal sleep, but as always, I am never tired from this kind of physiological incursion. I was also fucked ragged with abuse in the morning.
On the winemaking as work front, the boss pulled a flip flop and directed me to do more filtration than was really needed. The owners needed to get out of town while the perps were harassing the living shit out of me, though I was careful not be loud as the Great White Bearded E. Indian was working in the vineyard on leaf pulling
Wine filtering can go wrong from at least 50 technical decisions; how hoses hook up, to which port, and whether they are male or female, what direction the wine is to travel etc. Not to mention the possibilities for mess, leaks, filter plugging and leaking etc. are myriad.
A phone call from the owners to direct the Great Bearded E. Indian elder, replete with scuzzy turban, to another part of the vineyard seemed reasonable at first. Then a vineyard helper arrived and needed to talk through the owner's plans, and the whole skit seemed to be about time wasting before escorting the E. Indian to a new work area.
Evening; I got skunked at the specialty foods seller; I went there for cooked chicken and more small tortillas and they had neither. Onto the supermarket, where they seemed prepared by augmenting the staff with skinheads and jamming up the checkouts. Then making dinner, and rage-fied at least 40 times, and we are talking screaming loud, now that they have me in a detached residence.
09-17-2013
More wine filtration/vexation; many hasslesbut not as bad as yesterday. Late hours again, and after work errands, including a new Rx had to be postponed. We are talking about yellow and white colored pills, and almost invariably the yellow vehicular gangstalking is increased then, which was true to form for the rest of the week, as it turned out.
The once sensation of feeling wasted after filtering or handling red wine has come upon me, and this hasn't happened for a very long time, 20 years. As it "happened" it did not re-occur later this week, even if doing the same activity.
I learned that plants have knowledge, a neurological system. Which might partly explain why the perps have me doing farm work, and hound me with vegetation bearing landscape maintenance vehicles; often cuttings, but sometimes live rooted plants. And here we are, in suburban land, cutting lawns once a week for the growing season, feeding the Great Perp Surveillance Machine; what are they after?
09-18-2013
Wine filtration with lots of hassles, including when back and making dinner.
09-19-2013
No wine filtration work thankfully, just cleaning up and back-flushing filters to try and get some more mileage out of them. A moderate level of harassment until after lunch with the wind starting up at that time and lasting the whole afternoon. I got onto after work errands for the first time in four days. one was the Rx refill, -keeping me off the white and yellow colored pills which seem to be so important to the assholes. The doctor put on her death-warmed-over greeting and later got smiley. No blood pressure test this time for whatever reason. She elicited more detail on when these medications were prescribed, and I mentioned ADD and the confirming SPECT scan of the Inattentive Subtype. Somehow, I "forgot" to mention that two shrinks and a neurologist blew me off on this diagnosis, and it was a doctor with ADD who got it right. I had been thinking about this all week, what was the history and how many doctors jerked my ass around, presumably at the perps behest, and "somehow" I forget to mention this key piece of determination in the face of (arranged IMHO) clinical adversity.
Same perp abuse fuckery all day long; forced dropping of items from my grasp, forced "forgets" on where I put something down, having me get imcomplete parts, scripting two or three jobs at a time with constant interuptions to attend to the next one.
09-20-2013
Yet again, the vineyard owners needed to split town while I toiled in near constant vexation with filtering another batch of wine with inadequate equipment. The pump wouldn't pull 1.5m of suction head for crissakes, which meant that I had to transfer the wine to a shorter container. Which worked for awhile, then the pump stalled out again. The last 10L of wine was then transfered to a bucket which I held up high to create a gravity feed and eventually all 850L was filtered to one micron. That took three back-flushings of the cartridge filter, some six hours in all. Which meant that the pump had to be stopped, and a water hose attached to the discharge side of the filter to drive water backwards from the normal wine filter flow. A back-flushing took at least half an hour, so needless to say, I worked another late day.
And too, another missed yoga day this week. The perps just love to disrupt yoga attendance, and the more weeks they can put in sequence, the merrier they seem to be. Which begs the question, why do they want me to take yoga in the first place? Well, it would seem all those spine twistings and exertions and poses seem to fit the perp agenda to some extent, perhaps as etheric interactions with the body electric. No question yoga has been a total gangstalk show, from the Favored (cute instructors) to the Unfavored (large gutted male instructor with bald head and fugly oversized shorts), along with the tattoo-ed classmates doing their "see my tattoo" thing.
Last year, they even put on a woman instructor with a decided male bent and a rather commanding dictatorial nature for a few sessions. She didn't last more than three classes before they swapped her out with a woman who was more feminine (thankfully), though considerably overweight. Understand that I didn't have any personal issues with the first mentioned instructor; I did my poses as best as I could and always followed her instructions. And she was always friendly to me after class, as was I in return. BUT there was something about that interpersonal dynamic that the perps could read in me (by remote means, with of course, proximate biofield energies from the classmates/gangastalkers), that I did not knowingly like. Meaning, there was some kind of adverse psychic reaction I had to that instructor, be it appearance or her commanding syntax and tone of which I was consciously unaware, but found subconsciously perturbing. And the perps knew it, and had her start as my instructor when I re-started yoga last year, but she was rotated out after her assigned classes. Which begs the question, how did I come to find such a interpersonal nature subconsciously perturbing, and how did the perps know what my subconscious realtime reactions (abreactions) were? I am sure there is some answers to be found in the three years they wiped from my recall, aged 2 to 5, and it may have something to do with being sent to one or more military camps, as in the Indian Lake Project.
Today was the fourth day of the week that one or both of the vineyard owners "needed" to split while I was toiling doing wine filtering. And not forgetting that they scrambled me into "forgetting" what I was doing, whether I needed a female or male hose end ad infinitum, and of course having me react to being mind-fucked into stupid, forgetful or senseless small acts, one after the other.
The Great Bearded E. Indian elder. ostensibly on vineyard leaf plucking on the S. side, also did his hanging around too, pretending to be curious and exploiting the language barrier to the max. I was dispatched to relocate him from one section of the vineyard to another first thing this morning. Why the owners didn't do this as the E. Indian starts at 0600h when I start at 0700h is also mighty curious. But as this was the second time this week on this particular errand, and that the last time was fraught with all manner of delays and diversions by another party, all I can say is that it seems to be a big deal for the perps. Go figure; and the turban was way fugly, and as with nearly all head ornaments, much Unfavored.
A party of some six or so also wandered up the driveway, timing their arrival some ten minutes after the owners arrived. They knew the owner's name, so it wasn't a visiting troupe looking for work on spec, but close to it. Later, I learned the the male owner had two wisdom teeth removed AND a root canal in one dental visit today. Like WTF; who would be that rash to have all that done in one visit? But as it "happens", there have been other acquaintances in the long past who had wisdom teeth pulled for seeming trite reasons, so I am a somewhat circumspect as to why people are doing this so often. One had all four wisdom teeth pulled as a preventive measure should they need a root canal procedure in the future. Then he also refused root canals and had the tooth pulled instead. Plain stupid.
One time I went for a root canal at an endodontist (recommended to get the specialist to do it), and lo, if I wasn't held up by an emergency patient who needed a tooth pulled. It didn't take too long, but now that I see the trend of tooth pain being applied as some kind of pain biofield generator, it does make me wonder what the perps are up to.
That, and the recent "need" to pluck facial hairs, a habit that has been imposed on me since 01-2013. For the last few years it was these strange and sudden arrivals of hairs on my ears that I was plucking. Then the need to pluck chest hairs and now facial hairs has erupted. I thought it would be three or so a day per cheek, as that was about all the cheek hairs I was shaving off each day. But now that I started to pluck them out, why, the facial hair count has gone to some 6 per side per session, two sessions per day, meaning, 24/day. Like WTF; how did all these hairs suddenly start growing when I began to pluck them instead of shaving them? One location, a small divot, grew three stiff hairs in a week, all from the same pore. Not to mention the masers that come off the plucked hairs and follow the hair from face to tweezers to fingers to sink. And at least 20% of the plucked hairs somehow manage to get teleported back onto my face after I dispense with them in the sink AND I check my fingers and tweezers to make sure they didn't re-attach themselves somehow. Said teleported plucked hairs seem to arrive back where they came from, or else the next location where I am about to pluck the next hair. And there are other teleportational variants; they arrive back on the tweezers, my fingers and somehow make the leap from there to my face, effectively reversing their path. Once I saw the prior plucked hair arrive on my face and between the arms of the tweezers as I was about to pluck the next one. Normally the perps have teleportational objects arrive when my attention is diverted for an instant, but this once was an unmistakable arrival of a plucked hair between the tweezers, before the next tweezing.
Tonight's phone call from the First Feral Family came just when I was finishing off a tweezing session, and prolonging the duration that the tea was steeping. And have I mentioned past interruptions when the tea is steeping, or other color transitions, say from daylight to dusk to night? So many times that I have given up mentioning it any more.
I am off to visit the First Feral Family in Kamloops this weekend, so I will post this sooner rather than later.
A week of few evening hours, so the daily entries are rather sparse. Not to mention I often get cognitively clobbered when I want to write up this blog, and all the supporting detail is purged from my recall at the moment I want to convey it to my readership.
Monday, and always a high perp Fuckover day, this one being memorable in that I am so trashed from yelling or screaming at the assholes all evening, which began brewing first thing I got back from a vexatious day of filtering wine. The forced "forgets", the pulling items from my grasp, the screwing me out of knowing the next step or why I went to the fridge or a cupboard etc.
I had half my ususal sleep, but as always, I am never tired from this kind of physiological incursion. I was also fucked ragged with abuse in the morning.
On the winemaking as work front, the boss pulled a flip flop and directed me to do more filtration than was really needed. The owners needed to get out of town while the perps were harassing the living shit out of me, though I was careful not be loud as the Great White Bearded E. Indian was working in the vineyard on leaf pulling
Wine filtering can go wrong from at least 50 technical decisions; how hoses hook up, to which port, and whether they are male or female, what direction the wine is to travel etc. Not to mention the possibilities for mess, leaks, filter plugging and leaking etc. are myriad.
A phone call from the owners to direct the Great Bearded E. Indian elder, replete with scuzzy turban, to another part of the vineyard seemed reasonable at first. Then a vineyard helper arrived and needed to talk through the owner's plans, and the whole skit seemed to be about time wasting before escorting the E. Indian to a new work area.
Evening; I got skunked at the specialty foods seller; I went there for cooked chicken and more small tortillas and they had neither. Onto the supermarket, where they seemed prepared by augmenting the staff with skinheads and jamming up the checkouts. Then making dinner, and rage-fied at least 40 times, and we are talking screaming loud, now that they have me in a detached residence.
09-17-2013
More wine filtration/vexation; many hasslesbut not as bad as yesterday. Late hours again, and after work errands, including a new Rx had to be postponed. We are talking about yellow and white colored pills, and almost invariably the yellow vehicular gangstalking is increased then, which was true to form for the rest of the week, as it turned out.
The once sensation of feeling wasted after filtering or handling red wine has come upon me, and this hasn't happened for a very long time, 20 years. As it "happened" it did not re-occur later this week, even if doing the same activity.
I learned that plants have knowledge, a neurological system. Which might partly explain why the perps have me doing farm work, and hound me with vegetation bearing landscape maintenance vehicles; often cuttings, but sometimes live rooted plants. And here we are, in suburban land, cutting lawns once a week for the growing season, feeding the Great Perp Surveillance Machine; what are they after?
09-18-2013
Wine filtration with lots of hassles, including when back and making dinner.
09-19-2013
No wine filtration work thankfully, just cleaning up and back-flushing filters to try and get some more mileage out of them. A moderate level of harassment until after lunch with the wind starting up at that time and lasting the whole afternoon. I got onto after work errands for the first time in four days. one was the Rx refill, -keeping me off the white and yellow colored pills which seem to be so important to the assholes. The doctor put on her death-warmed-over greeting and later got smiley. No blood pressure test this time for whatever reason. She elicited more detail on when these medications were prescribed, and I mentioned ADD and the confirming SPECT scan of the Inattentive Subtype. Somehow, I "forgot" to mention that two shrinks and a neurologist blew me off on this diagnosis, and it was a doctor with ADD who got it right. I had been thinking about this all week, what was the history and how many doctors jerked my ass around, presumably at the perps behest, and "somehow" I forget to mention this key piece of determination in the face of (arranged IMHO) clinical adversity.
Same perp abuse fuckery all day long; forced dropping of items from my grasp, forced "forgets" on where I put something down, having me get imcomplete parts, scripting two or three jobs at a time with constant interuptions to attend to the next one.
09-20-2013
Yet again, the vineyard owners needed to split town while I toiled in near constant vexation with filtering another batch of wine with inadequate equipment. The pump wouldn't pull 1.5m of suction head for crissakes, which meant that I had to transfer the wine to a shorter container. Which worked for awhile, then the pump stalled out again. The last 10L of wine was then transfered to a bucket which I held up high to create a gravity feed and eventually all 850L was filtered to one micron. That took three back-flushings of the cartridge filter, some six hours in all. Which meant that the pump had to be stopped, and a water hose attached to the discharge side of the filter to drive water backwards from the normal wine filter flow. A back-flushing took at least half an hour, so needless to say, I worked another late day.
And too, another missed yoga day this week. The perps just love to disrupt yoga attendance, and the more weeks they can put in sequence, the merrier they seem to be. Which begs the question, why do they want me to take yoga in the first place? Well, it would seem all those spine twistings and exertions and poses seem to fit the perp agenda to some extent, perhaps as etheric interactions with the body electric. No question yoga has been a total gangstalk show, from the Favored (cute instructors) to the Unfavored (large gutted male instructor with bald head and fugly oversized shorts), along with the tattoo-ed classmates doing their "see my tattoo" thing.
Last year, they even put on a woman instructor with a decided male bent and a rather commanding dictatorial nature for a few sessions. She didn't last more than three classes before they swapped her out with a woman who was more feminine (thankfully), though considerably overweight. Understand that I didn't have any personal issues with the first mentioned instructor; I did my poses as best as I could and always followed her instructions. And she was always friendly to me after class, as was I in return. BUT there was something about that interpersonal dynamic that the perps could read in me (by remote means, with of course, proximate biofield energies from the classmates/gangastalkers), that I did not knowingly like. Meaning, there was some kind of adverse psychic reaction I had to that instructor, be it appearance or her commanding syntax and tone of which I was consciously unaware, but found subconsciously perturbing. And the perps knew it, and had her start as my instructor when I re-started yoga last year, but she was rotated out after her assigned classes. Which begs the question, how did I come to find such a interpersonal nature subconsciously perturbing, and how did the perps know what my subconscious realtime reactions (abreactions) were? I am sure there is some answers to be found in the three years they wiped from my recall, aged 2 to 5, and it may have something to do with being sent to one or more military camps, as in the Indian Lake Project.
Today was the fourth day of the week that one or both of the vineyard owners "needed" to split while I was toiling doing wine filtering. And not forgetting that they scrambled me into "forgetting" what I was doing, whether I needed a female or male hose end ad infinitum, and of course having me react to being mind-fucked into stupid, forgetful or senseless small acts, one after the other.
The Great Bearded E. Indian elder. ostensibly on vineyard leaf plucking on the S. side, also did his hanging around too, pretending to be curious and exploiting the language barrier to the max. I was dispatched to relocate him from one section of the vineyard to another first thing this morning. Why the owners didn't do this as the E. Indian starts at 0600h when I start at 0700h is also mighty curious. But as this was the second time this week on this particular errand, and that the last time was fraught with all manner of delays and diversions by another party, all I can say is that it seems to be a big deal for the perps. Go figure; and the turban was way fugly, and as with nearly all head ornaments, much Unfavored.
A party of some six or so also wandered up the driveway, timing their arrival some ten minutes after the owners arrived. They knew the owner's name, so it wasn't a visiting troupe looking for work on spec, but close to it. Later, I learned the the male owner had two wisdom teeth removed AND a root canal in one dental visit today. Like WTF; who would be that rash to have all that done in one visit? But as it "happens", there have been other acquaintances in the long past who had wisdom teeth pulled for seeming trite reasons, so I am a somewhat circumspect as to why people are doing this so often. One had all four wisdom teeth pulled as a preventive measure should they need a root canal procedure in the future. Then he also refused root canals and had the tooth pulled instead. Plain stupid.
One time I went for a root canal at an endodontist (recommended to get the specialist to do it), and lo, if I wasn't held up by an emergency patient who needed a tooth pulled. It didn't take too long, but now that I see the trend of tooth pain being applied as some kind of pain biofield generator, it does make me wonder what the perps are up to.
That, and the recent "need" to pluck facial hairs, a habit that has been imposed on me since 01-2013. For the last few years it was these strange and sudden arrivals of hairs on my ears that I was plucking. Then the need to pluck chest hairs and now facial hairs has erupted. I thought it would be three or so a day per cheek, as that was about all the cheek hairs I was shaving off each day. But now that I started to pluck them out, why, the facial hair count has gone to some 6 per side per session, two sessions per day, meaning, 24/day. Like WTF; how did all these hairs suddenly start growing when I began to pluck them instead of shaving them? One location, a small divot, grew three stiff hairs in a week, all from the same pore. Not to mention the masers that come off the plucked hairs and follow the hair from face to tweezers to fingers to sink. And at least 20% of the plucked hairs somehow manage to get teleported back onto my face after I dispense with them in the sink AND I check my fingers and tweezers to make sure they didn't re-attach themselves somehow. Said teleported plucked hairs seem to arrive back where they came from, or else the next location where I am about to pluck the next hair. And there are other teleportational variants; they arrive back on the tweezers, my fingers and somehow make the leap from there to my face, effectively reversing their path. Once I saw the prior plucked hair arrive on my face and between the arms of the tweezers as I was about to pluck the next one. Normally the perps have teleportational objects arrive when my attention is diverted for an instant, but this once was an unmistakable arrival of a plucked hair between the tweezers, before the next tweezing.
Tonight's phone call from the First Feral Family came just when I was finishing off a tweezing session, and prolonging the duration that the tea was steeping. And have I mentioned past interruptions when the tea is steeping, or other color transitions, say from daylight to dusk to night? So many times that I have given up mentioning it any more.
I am off to visit the First Feral Family in Kamloops this weekend, so I will post this sooner rather than later.
Tuesday, September 03, 2013
Gone Domestic
08-26-2013
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.
08-28-2013
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.
08-30-2013
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.
08-31-2013
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.
09-01-2013
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.
09-02-2013
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.
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.
08-28-2013
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.
08-30-2013
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.
08-31-2013
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.
09-01-2013
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.
09-02-2013
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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