After making my site really really ugly last night, I have just worked on it for an hour and put it back together better than it has ever been. It finally looks satisfying to me. Now I have a ton more content to add. I am putting together the Sleep Galleries from my webcam days for the Member Area. Of course, anyone at all can see some of the images in the videos I make of my poetry. I tend to use the sleep pictures for those. It’s some kind of Andy Warhol fixation on a subconscious level, I think. But there are nearly, or just over a hundred of them, maybe 75 . . . a lot. I slept on cam a lot because it fascinated me to watch my movements and gestures throughout the night, the next day when I would go through the images and delete the redundant ones. So every picture is a different position, facial expression, something.
We got the TV out of here. YAY! Doc is hedging on the credit application for the new TV, so I think it may be cash. Either way. I have to buy $150 of meds this week. That spends my money. The rest is for rent and bills. But at least I was able to get my supplies this month. I’m happy about that, as I may have mentioned.
Ok, nap taken. Vacuuming done, and re-done because I just wasn’t sweaty enough after I finished the first time. No, actually there was a roving multi-cat battle that left fur all over the freshly cleaned floor. So I redid that. And I cleaned up the living room floor from the TV moving saga so I can do art tomorrow.
I also worked out an alpha-numeric inventory system spreadsheet that will include photos of each item. I want to get some tags printed up, but first I have to give Kelli my copy of Photoshop, and then I have to make her design me a logo for the PRH Shop that will fit nicely in a circle or square. Good luck to her on that. She has a degree in that stuff. I can’t do logos. I just don’t think small and concise and obvious. She can switch to that mode. It’s pretty cool, actually. So, until then, I will be using some of the 3,000 post-it notes that I have as inventory/price tags. I also found customizeable labels that are non-stick, so they can be used and peeled off by the customer without ruining the thing they bought. Those will be future purchases, as well. If the shop works out.
Doc should be home in the next half hour or so. I think he was getting water on the way home.
He’s got to get his scooter back. The bike is killing him. He is too old and out of shape (not too much of wither, but enough of both), to deal with the 8 mile up and down ride. I don’t know why B is being like he is. He asked to borrow money the other day. We had no cash, he got bent. Another delay in the scooter. I wish Doc would just go over and get mad at him. Doc, when mad, is very effective in getting what he wants. But he’s like me in one respect, if he thinks someone has something over him (like, say, the physical possession of a $1200 scooter, he won’t let go and lost his temper. At this point, B is just tromping all over Doc. It’s time it stopped. I’ll go over with him and help him walk the scooter back home. Then I will help him walk it to the repair shop up the road, where it will be taken care of without a constant trickle of cash and goods going towards nothing, like it is now.
It occurred to me, of course, that he started being a complete prick (B, not Doc), after he and I had the FB battle and I unfriended him. It started to get a bit better, but then he got on Jodi’s account one night after I had gone off about him, and read the entry and re-freaked out. Well fuck him. He’s been fucking us over for two years now. It’s almost the 2 year anniversary of him foisting that psycho twat on us for three months of living in hell in my own house. She left us with bedbugs, and owes us over $1000 for rent and food and bills, which we will never see. And he knew it would happen, but he didn’t care that she was his childhood friend, he just thrust her at us. Had her arrested and then gave us no alternative but to take her and her dog in when she was released and we got the dog from the pound (B had the dog arrested, too).
I could eat it and try being nice again, but I know he will just shit all over me. The names he calls me when he’s talking to Doc are horrible. And he doesn’t even know me well, he knows a few cursory facts about me, that’s it. He doesn’t have the right to call me these names in jest, let alone in seriousness. I want to go over and fuck him up, not even wait for Doc. And if it weren’t for his having the scooter, I may have just done that before now. I imagine stabbing him slowly, over and over again. In the arm, through the breast plate, the legs, torso. Leave his face alone, it’s ugly enough to horrify. Maybe a shallow slash across the neck to warn people that he is marked. I don’t want to kill him. Just torture him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Not even the abusive fucks I used to think I loved. B just brings out my sadistic side.