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Topics - 85 Day Jerk

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76
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / EMDR
« on: June 28, 2003, 01:16:00 AM »
EMDR stands for eye-movement-desensitization-and-reprosessing. It can either use visual or audio stimulation to accomplish this.

Much like dental surgery, it can be beneficial, but in the wrong hands, it can be as harmful as a coulple of stoners breaking into a dentist office, getting high on Nitrous Oxide, and going to work on each other's teeth.

I undergo EMDR therapy, and it has had beneficial results such as; increasing my typing speed, enabling me to remember the names of people I meet a whole lot better, better control of my spending habits, eating healthier and shopping smarter. I no longer tense up when I drive to the point that my hands hurt from gripping the wheel and screaming profanities at the traffic.

My mind has been made clearer by this type of therapy. It is like a major housecleaning of the brain. Bad memories are by no means erased, but the bad feelings and what is most important, the BAD HABITS that associate with them are cut down to size and you are able to take control of your emotional make-up that stemmed from traumatic experiences.

Myself, I use the audio form of the EMDR and sometimes I butt heads with my counselor over what subject matter and trauma is still causing me problems sub-consciously. We don't always agree on things either. He thought a lot of my anger was from the way I was treated by and abusive stepfather, and we went round and round on that one. It turned out that yes, there still was alot of anger but it was smothered by all those years of not being able to talk about it due to the "treatment" of Straight. He had me do a session about what it was like in group not being able to talk about the things that really bother you and having to 'conform' your subject matter to the status quo. This one was like a breakthrough! I wound up on my feet with a broken armrest from the chair in my hand! He is a little more careful on approaching the Straight Years now to say the least.

In closing, I do the therapy, and while it may not be for everybody, no one has the right to knock something that really works if they have not tried it themselves personally. Bob in St. Pete

[ This Message was edited by: 85 Day Jerk on 2003-06-25 11:03 ]

[ This Message was edited by: 85 Day Jerk on 2003-06-27 22:17 ]

77
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Bonding
« on: June 23, 2003, 01:35:00 AM »
I still have a hard time bonding with women.  When I graduated the program, most of the girls were either dorks, or they were full of it and I harbored alot of resentment for the shit they had pulled during their programs.  As far as dating, that was out of the question, seeing how I did not have a car.  I did have the one girl pal that I knew in school and rode horses with and stuff, but that was pure friendship.  I missed out on the guy-girl permissions and crap that came later. My first real date came a short while after I had gotten my car.  She was a fixer-upper that a buddy knew from school.  She was Irish Italian and still in school and really sweet.  I learned the hard way the limits some girls will go to to keep a boyfriend happy.  They had changed my shift at work unexpectedly, but I had promised to take this girl to the beach.  We went, and I was so damn tired, I lay down on the blanket and went to sleep.  I wound up sleeping for 5 hours, and that poor girl lay next to me reading a book, afraid to wake me up because she did'nt want to make me mad.  I wound up with 2nd degree burns on the backs of my legs and she wound up in the hospital with sun poisoning.  I felt so bad about it all that I did'nt date for like a whole year afterwards.  As far as Straight girls go, there was just no way.  All the good ones had been snapped up by the guys who had rich daddies, and the ones left were just a real drag. I did however have an undercover clandestine relationship with a girl Staff Trainee from Seminole.  That was a real trip for certain!  I mean on weekends I would hang with the gang, and Straight girls were the last thing on our minds.  We would do the Mid-nite Movie Express, hold up at stoplights and shoot bottle rockets at the front windows of redneck bars, just to see the hillbillies run out and cuss at us and general hell raising, but then during the week, I had this deep caring friendship with a girl from the "Enemy Camp."  It was really crazy.  I saw her in 1987 at Tyrone Mall after a 5 year absense.
I was with a girl from my neighborhood and this old Staffer picked me out of the crowd.  Her face lit up like a Christmas Tree and she was really happy to see me.  Sadly, she was due to go into the Air Force or Navy that coming summer.  I never saw her after that.  Even though she was closer to me than any other girl I knew from the program, I could not bring myself to bond.  There was something wrong with me.  I could feel it alot of times, yet did not know what it was.  Almost a year to the week I last saw her, I had my life changing nervous breakdown.

78
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Midnight Flight of the Fish Hawk
« on: June 09, 2003, 10:15:00 PM »
The last of the midnite movie crowd stumbles, laughter bouncing off the walls and fading into the night as the parking lot rapidly empties.
High above the mall parking lot the Fish Hawk soars overhead in search of small rabbits.  It turns north toward the old railroad overpass, silently past the traffic below.  Gracefully, it banks sharply and dives.  It glides silently less than 20 feet off the ground over the grassy field just to the left of the Pinellas Trail its eyes and ears straining for the sight and sound of it's furry dinner.  The rabbits have not come to feed just yet, so the Fish Hawk sails silently underneath the structure that moans with each passing of an automobile overhead.  The very tip of his wing brushes a support column.  The column is very old, and from way up on high one can see the faded paint of a message left in 1973.  It can only be seen at night due to the unique lighting conditions and the absence of the sun's glare.  The message reads;  "The Seed Sucks."  The Fish Hawk now turns its attention to the grass lined sides of the Trail, and is rewarded with the sight of a young foolish rabbit feeding on clover in a pool of streetlight.  It folds its wings and dives, puts on the brakes, talons extended and makes the kill.  It begins its feed next to an old abandoned warehouse where weeds and vines do battle for purchase, clinging to the
weather beaten walls.  The moon appears from a ghostly veil of clouds and reveals the details hidden by the harsh glare of daylight.  Through a cobweb covered window are hundreds of imprints left on the dusty fiberglass covered floor.  A mute reminder to the hundreds of chairs that held hundreds of teens timeless while their lives were put on hold.  From out of the shadows a field mouse scampers up to the half eaten granola bar left by a worker from the previous week.  Outside the moon once again slides under cover and the wind picks up enough to cause a slight buzzing hum to eminate from the metal roll up doors.  For just one brief moment, it almost sounds like children singing.  The mouse drops it's prize in fright, and runs back to the safety of the shadows, while outside the Fish Hawk has had its fill and leaps into the sky with a few mighty beats of its wings.  It flies back to its nest in a tall pine tree that was planted in 1968 at a family picnic behind the Milton Roy Corporation off of Park Street.  Some rare nights, when the wind is from the north, it sounds as if children are singing in this delapitated warehouse as well.

79
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / More Names, the girls in the mall
« on: June 02, 2003, 03:19:00 AM »
Most of the girls who graduated before me wound up working retail.  It was an okay job for the ones who had not screwed up their schooling too bad, and many of the parents helped out in getting them placed.

Jenny Sykes and Jeanne Treinan both worked at Pinellas Square Mall at the Denim Den or something and were always more than happy to see you.  I usually stopped in once a week or so to say hi.  
Marie Ward and Nancy Minton both worked the second floor of Montgomery Wards and I always parked my car near there to come and go from the mall. I got alot of good advice from them and they were like a cornerstone for quite a few of us back then.
Tyrone Mall had it's share of people as well.  Terry Smith was a manager of Shoe Villa, or some damn thing, but ended up screwing up not far into the job.  Scott Travis's mom was the manager of Buster Brown shoes and Scott had to endure dressing up as the Buster Brown Kid and handing out balloons and shit.  I would have left home if it were me!  I'm pretty sure Sue Cookson worked at a keymaking booth for a while, and a couple of faceless guys worked at the AMC Theatres.  Scott Travis worked at Farrells Ice Cream Parlor and got beat up by some jocks one Friday night, so a bunch of us met at the 7 Step Rap that Saturday and went over to Farrells and hid behind the dumpsters and waited.  They came back that night and we bounced some trash cans off their Camero,  but they were too chicken to get out and rumble.

People came and went, and the 7 Step group went from an alltime high of 127 people down to less than 30 by 1981.  Under Newton's duranged guidance the most I ever saw was maybe 40 tops.

Marie Ward is married with 2 boys, active in civic events and owns an apartment building.  She is fairly recognizable, but is very cold in person.

Jeanne Treinan stays to herself and was working at Raymond James off 49th Street last time I saw her.  She gets around on the public bus system and I don't even know if she knows how to drive or not.  Jenny Sykes lives in Manatee County and delivers auto parts.  Her and her sister Marnie are still close.

Last time I saw Scott Travis, he had a high level job in the Navy and lived in Washington State.  Oh yeah, Julie Ferron flew into a gas station I worked at part-time in '97.  She lives on the beach somewhere and hardly ever leaves it.  That's about it I guess.  I think I will kill this topic and let it die as it is.  I mean I could try to come up with more names, but what's the point?  It is'nt as if these people are gonna respond or anything.

80
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / My Own Private Florida
« on: May 26, 2003, 11:44:00 PM »
Wow, this is gonna be weird. I never split from my program. We
called it splitting back in the wild '70's by the way. I split from
my family. I split while I still lived with them, ate dinner with
them, shopped with them, whatever. I split from them in my heart.
More and more, I realized that I was no longer a part of them, yet I
still resided in their house. I formed friendships with people who
were not from the program. One of them was a girl from High School
who owned a horse. She taught me how to ride and stuff and had a
wonderful 'mutt' horse named Dusty. Her horse refused to wear a
saddle, so I first learned how to ride like a Plains Indian would, I
rode barebacked, and fell off her several times learning how to
balance myself. I did wonders for my self confidence. Me and this
girl never even kissed all through High School and the 2 or 3 years
after that we kept in touch with each other. Her with her college
scholarship and me with my Press Apprentiship at GTE Directories.

I had also joined a far away church. First Baptist of Indian Rocks.
They had a very dynamic youth program called Monday Night Live. Alot
of the Seminole and Upper Largo area 7 steppers fed up with Newton
and his bullshit chose instead to congregate there instead of at
Straight. These were really great times and the experience helped to
fill the vaccumn left in my home. My very first real date came out
of going there. The girl was a tall Nordic Goddess that intimidated
most guys. They were all afraid of her, because she used to be a
biker chick and was a real hell raiser. Her parents had put her into
a Christian based treatment program and achieved great results. I
ended up breaking up with her over Rock Music of all things.

Back at home it finally reached a head when one day me and my father
passed each other in the hall. I nodded at him like "what's up," and
he just lost it. "Don't do that goddammit," he yelled at me. "I am
your goddamn father, not someone you see at work!" "What the hell is
wrong with you?" "Aint nothing wrong with me dad, I was just nodding
to a passing acquaintance is all." "Straight is Great, remember?" ::bangin::  ::boohoo::

81
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Two more names.........
« on: May 26, 2003, 11:26:00 PM »
Tonight's episode;  John Copeland and Sean Courterier (core-teary-aye)

Any attempt to help escape the unattractive truth, but the suburbs have no charms to soothe the restless dreams of youth.

Subdivisions....in the basement bars, in the backs of cars, conform or be cast out.

Subdivisions....in the high school halls, in the shopping malls, be cool or be cast out-

These two guys both went to my High School.  I will talk about Sean first.  He was put into Straight I honestly believe, because he was an embarrassment to his parents.  He had a mishappen head and face that looked alot like Gilda Radner when she was trying to look spaced out and retarted on Saturday Night Live.  Add to that a bad case of scoliosis, and funny vision that caused him to wear glasses that made his eyes look smaller than they were, and there you have it.  He had an older sister named Collette that was simply gorgeous.  It was as if God had saved all the uglyness for when he was to be born later.
In group he had to struggle twice as hard as the next Straightling, and once he was called on, he was one of those guys that would jabber and go into fucking vapor lock trying to get all that teenaged angst out all at once.  I'll admit, that when I was a jerk, he was one of my favorites,and I nicknamed him Lance Link, Secret Chimp because of his self conscious body posture.  Once Sean made it to home though, he hit them weights like nobody's business.  By the time I made it to school on 3rd phase, he was trying out for the wrestling team and whupping the shit out of guys twice his size.  I remember pissing him off really bad one time in the hallway.  These cheerleaders were doing practice stretches and I found it to be extremely interesting while Sean was babbling on how to deal with bathrooms reeking of reefer when you had to take a piss real bad, or something like that.  He noticed that I was'nt paying attention and just lost it.  He actually lifted me up off the ground and slammed me into some lockers.  "I had to wait for you, motherfucker!" "When I first came here, it was just me, do you have any idea what it was like?"  "There are alot more of us now, but it was'nt like this when I got here!" By now his face was red and his eyes were starting to tear up.  "We're gonna be friends even if I have to kick your ass every day, got it?"  I was so blown away, I did'nt know what else to do, so I just hugged him.  That created quite a few stares, so I looked up and yelled, "He's having an asthma attack, give us some room," and we walked outside and regained our composure.  As far as I know Sean joined the Military, Air Force I think.  He is probably doing pretty good.

As far as John Copeland goes, he was another misfit.  He was also the younger stepbrother of Wanda Fucking Minton.  How he kept from killing that bitch whore, tuna boat smelling peice of shit is beyond me.  I know I would have done it in a thousand different ways before I even made 4th phase.  We were friends and we ate lunch together quite a bit.  John looked alot like that country singer sausage guy Jimmy Dean, and he had scoliosis as well.  His chest looked like if you yanked his shoulders back real hard and fast, that his ribs would pop open and his heart and lungs would shoot across the room.  That is the best way I can describe his gawkiness.  In group, he was one of those guys that could draw out his feelings like a barouque painting of Christ on the Cross.  He could even run a stream of mucous from his nose, that would just lay there suspended in mid-air for what seemed like an eternity.  All that poor guy knew from the moment he got up, to the moment he went to sleep was misery.  When I seven stepped, he was not all that far behind, and he did pretty damn good for a year, but I had graduated and left him behind as he still had another year of school to go.  Somewhere along the line, he got sick of Wanda and his Mom's bullshit and stole the car and tried to haul ass.  They pressed charges, threw his ass back in Straight, but I don't know what happened after that.  I hope he made it ok.  If there ever were to be a poster child for Anger Restraint, he was damn sure it.  That's all for tonight kids, say your prayers and brush your teeth so you don't wake up with cheese breath.

82
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Bringing Up Names...........................
« on: May 24, 2003, 12:06:00 AM »
As we get closer and closer to the Conference, I will be bringing up names of people that went thru the program the same time I did.  I have been holding back for quite some time now.  I used to post these snippets awhile back on Don Smith's Straight Alumni Yahoo site, but Chris Poole dominates the site to the extent now, that I look for signs of intelligent life, like the Viking Explorer, and then move on (made sightings of a Metalgod and a Mo recently)if I come up empty.  Without further adieu, tonights episode:



                 TROY & JOY WHEELER

Troy Wheeler was a tall thin guy of 15, the same age as I was.  His sister Joy was older.  They came in about 4 days after I did.  Troy looked like a young hippy version of Charles Bronson.  His sister had blonde hair and was pale and bug-eyed.  I think they had different mothers or something.  While Troy never acted like a jerk, he did rebel a little, during one of the times I was acting right, one of the Staff Trainees, I think it was Jimmy Cassidy, asked if any of us guys could do any crazy dances.  I told him I could do that crazy Russian thing, and Troy pipes up that he could do it too.  Next thing ya know, we are up in front of group, squatted with our arms folded, hopping from one outstretches leg to the other, while the group is singing "Fiddler on the Roof" at the top of their lungs!!  Man that was sure a trip, and it got to be a favorite that summer.   They even made it into a contest one Saturday and we went up against the higher phasers.  Me and Troy put about 9 guys back in group on that one.  As soon as a guy lost his balance, or unfolded his arms he was disqualified.  Finally all that was left was a guy named Winston Pitman, and his 4th phase ego carried him through as the new house champ.  I was just too damn tired, so I fell over on my side and let him have his victory.  Troy had a very animated face when he related.  He could bring a shitty rap to life just with his enthusiasm.  Halfway through his fourth phase, his sister pulled herself and that was the end of it.  His father was suckered in by the goddamn staff, and would stand up and beg for Troy to make progress faster.  He was not the only kid that had to endure this humiliation every week, but I'll just stick to him for right now.  His father simply did not catch on, that it was all just a game to get more of his money.  Finally Troy was pulled on a Wednesday and he actually came in after school, stood up in a rap and said his goodbyes to everyone.  I believe the rap was held by Steve Howe, Senior Staff and John Legg, Staff Trainee.  It was unheard of for something like this to occur, and was also one of the last times I saw Steve Howe. I guess Steve had words with Executive Staff about how he must have felt about the whole mess.  Troy's dad came and picked him up during dinner and that was that.  I never saw him again.

But wait!  20 years later, I am working as a child care worker for the YMCA and I got to meet and care for his two children.  His son's name is Tony and he is very high strung and hyper just like his dad.  His eyes even have that same Charles Bronson hook in the corner.  His daughter Sandy was a joy to work with, a real sweet heart. I told his kids that I new him when he was a teenager, but did not go into details.  All that I found out was that he lived in New York and that him and his wife had divorced over issues of alchohol and his temper.  I never got the chance to meet him, but his son did give me his telephone number.  I never had the nerve to call him and I was afraid of losing my job over it because his wife became very angry at me for talking to her children.  This is how it ended up with him.  Maybe he will get in touch, maybe not.  That's all for one night.  See you all again soon.

[ This Message was edited by: 85 Day Jerk on 2003-05-23 21:20 ]

83
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Hey Now The Well
« on: May 18, 2003, 01:38:00 AM »
Well this year looks like it is going to be a banner year for the Conference.  I ran into a girl that used to live in my apartment building and I got to talking about my involvment in the movement and in these forums and it turned out that she brought forth a whole different perspective into this mess that I had never once thought about.  As a young girl, she had gone through three different High Schools due to remarriage in her family.  She had quite a few friends that entered Straight only to come out as mindless Zombies that she could no longer relate to.  At the worst, she was just what was known in the program as a "Bop" and here she ended up an outcast by people she had grown up with and it really hurt her as a young impressionable teen to be subjected to the durision of the program.  She witnessed first-hand the crap that we all had to endure and it really affected her as well, and she never even had to undergo what we went through ourselves, yet it scarred her upbringing just as hard as ours did.  I am going to try and get her involved with the Conference, and she wants to herself, just to see if she may be able to finally reunite with old friends.  The tentacles of Straight were alot more far reaching than most of us think of after all............  If anyone else can relate to this venue, please feel free, because I would love to hear about them.      take care, Bob in St.Pete

[ This Message was edited by: 85 Day Jerk on 2003-05-17 22:41 ]

84
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Endless days
« on: May 09, 2003, 12:51:00 PM »
One thing I used to do to kill time is hunt for garage sales.  You meet all kinds of people and you would be surprised at the bargains that can be found out there.  If you really want to go nuts with it, you can buy up cool stuff from other people's garage sales, and then host one of your own.  I had a neighbor who used to give me money to buy crap just so he could turn it into art decco and sell at a higher profit.  He would take old style furniture and paint wild designs on it, or that granite texture paint and make enough to cover his rent.  He even used "gimmicks" like going to Albertson's early in the morning and buying day old donuts and putting up a sign saying 'Yard Sale, free donuts & coffee' and he would just clean up!  As far as jobs go, almost any restaurant or fast food joint needs morning help.  The pay is better than days, and you don't have to put up with as much crap because they don't want you to quit on them.  Another thing is van drivers for before and after daycare programs and summer programs.  A lot of these places offer door to door service.  You pick a bunch of kids up at their houses and bring them in, then take them home in the afternoon.  In the summer you take them to parks, museums, ball games waterparks, etc, and you get in for free.  I did it for 2 years and it was'nt all that bad, then Clinton got elected and I started eating better!!      take it easy, Bob

85
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / A Guy From Northshore
« on: May 07, 2003, 01:31:00 AM »
Lady Jade


I lie awake staring at the ceiling, like a thousand times before.
Drop another pill from frustration, pull on some clothes, walk out the door.
The music sounds so crisp and clear, gliding down the sidewalk like a ghost.
It numbs the space between my ears, these are the times I love the most.

She comes on strong, my Lady Jade,
Trees and buildings slowly fade.
No one to see my free skate style,
Or my disturbing eerie smile.

Love is like a butterfly, I'm too scared to let one land.
Too numb to even realize when one flies right by my hand.
All I do is sort the bills, work the job, wait until I'm paid.
In the pre-dawn hours I go flying....... just me and Lady Jade.

I change CD's by a fancy restaurant, I must've passed a thousand times.
Staring through the window at a table, as the music fills my mind.
I imagine having dinner, with a woman I hold dear.
Her laughter full of tinkling sounds, like a crystal chandelier.

Then all at once I am engulfed in  brilliant light of day,
St. Pete's finest on patrol shines me down then drives away.
I'm left swaying on my rollerblades, as a new song fills my mind,
the streets are empty, clean and grey, but I'm running out of time.

Approaching dawn now eats the stars and sheds her violet light,
Then comes a sound so faint at first, it cuts into the night.
A sad and mournful echo, to softly fading stars.
The tired sound assaults the air, just another mornings' cars.

(Most of this came from a bittersweet poem written about 10 years ago in the early stages of lithium therapy. Lady Jade symbolizes Visteril, a mild sedative that controls anxiety. )

86
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / A Girl From Newport
« on: May 06, 2003, 11:02:00 PM »
The death mask of Judas, is hanging on her wall.
She's going to let everyone down.

She launched her friends in the lifeboat, cuz she is a mutineer, she has an urge to drown.

She keeps up with her smiling, but sometimes she wonders why, and what they all say when she's not around.

She takes her time with her make-up, and makes her lashes shine, in sleep she's beautiful and flying.

She's like a zoo animal, that's frustrated by her cage.
She wants, she wants to be outside.

Real life could never measure up to raw imagination, this beauty always seemed like ugliness, she was still a little girl, but was treated like a grown-up.






From the CD "Ferociously Stoned"
             The Lifeboat Mutiny
Steve Perry - Lyrics   Lead Vocalist of Cherry Poppin' Daddies

I am a big fan of these guys and have all of the band's signatures on my concert T shirt.  I hung out with the band and got to know Steve pretty good after their debut show in 1997.  I told the guys about thrill hill, and when they came back in 1998, they had their own tourbus to they took it at 48mph and dented the hell out of the luggage panel.  Steve and Matt even took me over to the bus and had ME sign THEIR dent!  It was too funny..........



[ This Message was edited by: 85 Day Jerk on 2003-05-06 20:03 ]

[ This Message was edited by: 85 Day Jerk on 2003-05-07 11:24 ]

87
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Coming into Group High
« on: May 02, 2003, 07:21:00 PM »
I can no longer relate to a majority of you.  I might as well go to a Star Trek Convention with Chris Poole dressed as a Kelvin and try to get laid after drinking a 6 pack of ZIMA.

[ This Message was edited by: 85 Day Jerk on 2003-07-29 14:57 ]

88
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Mothers Day
« on: May 01, 2003, 06:28:00 AM »
I thought I would get first licks on the subject so I hope there are no hard feelings from the slowpokes.   Mothers day has always been a real bitch for me.  My natural mom had to sign away custody of me about 1/3 of the way thru my program and it really messed things up for awhile.
My wicked stepmother is my natural mother on paper only.  Over the years I had developed some very special feelings for her.  They call them intense Hatred.  Since then they have congealed into mere Loathing, Disgust, and Pity.  

I read somewhere that Mothers day is the busiest day of the year for the Telephone Companies.  It is also the busiest day for ambulance and paramedic crews.  By the doctrines of American Society, we as a nation ignore and abuse our mothers throughout the year in pursuit of our own selfish agenda and then try in vain to make up for it by giving her a "Special Day" all her own.
People scrounge and haggle through flower shops and card shops like the last days on Easter Island or some shit.  It makes me sick to watch it all.  I don't blame my mother for what happened in the program.  After everything crashed and burned in the early eighties, she took me in and took care of me and I know that must have been hard for her, because I was full of hate, and half crazy, yet she was there for me.

As for the "straight-years" family that I left behind, there is not much left to care about really.  As soon as I lost my job with GTE, and the mental illness that I had been suppressing all those years slowly rose to the surface it was as if I had only been meant to stay the week, and had worn out my welcome.  One of the things that keeps the anger and bitterness alive is the fact that neither my father or wicked stepmother has admitted to any wrongdoing of their own.  This is why they are not a part of my life anymore.  I did however begin to E-mail my father, but he does not keep up with them very well.  I still am not going to pick up a telephone.  I refuse to make it easy for him.  I sent him a .jpg of the bumper sticker I did up, maybe it freaked him out or something.  As for the wicked stepmother, I hope her day is as empty and meaningless as our relationship has been over the years.  I just hope that when she dies, my doctor will have found something that will keep the smile off my face during the services.

_________________
In the line of fire, you know what to say
They gave us no choices, just one shade of grey
Back at that hellhole, behind Tyrone Mall
We walked in darkness, kept hitting the walls
I took the time to feel for the door
I had been treated, but what the hell for?

[ This Message was edited by: 85 Day Jerk on 2003-05-01 03:29 ]

89
Straight, Inc. and Derivatives / Spring Cleaning
« on: April 27, 2003, 05:28:00 PM »
I don't know about the  rest of you, but it almost takes an act of congress or God to get me to clean.  I started out by grabbing some grocery bags and just walking around throwing the clutter into them.  I set them out in the front room and then started moving furniture, my guitars, and all the other crap strewn about the living room out to that room.  I scrubbed the carpet of any and all "accidents" that Charo (the vet says Chongo is a girl so I call her Charo now) had left in various spots.  Next came the shower stall.  That damn thing was sporting wildlife of it's own.  I could probably grow an herb garden just on what was stuck between the tiles.  I used the scrub free spray crap and went to work on the toilet while I was waiting for it to disolve the lime and mildew buildup.  After awhile the fumes overcame me and I began hearing voices.  Just kidding!  Actually the building's elevator shaft is on the other side of my bathroom wall.  Back in the 1940's my apartment was a beauty salon.  I scrubbed and mopped the floor next, and finally gained a foothold on the dirt.  As usual, I played music to accompany my work.  I started off with "Mr Lucky" by John Lee Hooker, then played a CD of Frank Zappa's greatest hits, and followed up with Kelley Deal's solo CD "Welcome to the Sugar Altar."  The shower stall still needs some work so next time I am going in with Comet and a toothbrush.  I will begin the assault with "Iggy and the Stooges Live at the Michegan Palace," because it takes heavy-duty music to fight heavy-duty buildup.  I just hope I don't have to break out my Day Glow Abortions before I am done.

All in all, I have this dread of cleaning and I do not know where it comes from.  Can anyone else relate to this?  I guess it stems from the fact that we were not allowed to do housework of any kind while on our earlier phases, then after 4th and 5th phase most of our parents stuck us with all of the housework all at once. I actually got a part time job to get the hell away from the house.  I would clean it, then my step brothers would turn right around and mess stuff up. I got so sick of my efforts ending up a pile of shit that I simply refused to do anything.  Finally, it was decreed that all I was in charge of was the kitchen, dishes, and dining room.  Asshole had to take care of the living room, which meant he just threw everything behind the couch or in the stereo cabinet.  He piled so much shit in it one time that it fell over during an episode of "Hill Street Blues"  that was funny as all hell, because my dad got in on that one.  He had worked a rotating shift as long as I can remember, and my step-brothers were able to pull a lot of shit over on him simply because he was not around that much.  Oh well that is about all I can think of.  You can wake up now.

90
Morgan Yacht / Why no posts?
« on: April 16, 2003, 01:03:00 PM »
There are very few posts on this board and none since January.  There were still an awful lot of people who went through the program back then. Oh well, see ya later.

_________________
In the line of fire, you know what to say
They gave us no choices, just one shade of grey
Back at that hellhole, behind Tyrone Mall
We walked in darkness, kept hitting the walls
I took the time to feel for the door
I had been treated, but what the hell for?

[ This Message was edited by: 85 Day Jerk on 2003-04-16 10:03 ]

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