Archive for August, 2007

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August 1st – August 12th… ish?

August 27, 2007

So… let’s see if I can pick up where I left off a few days ago. In recapping. Aye… so much is still happening that I can’t keep up with!

Okay, so I went to check out a place I found on Google for homeless/helpless/hopeless youth. It’s called TLC, or Transitional Living Center. Something tells me that title was actually a backronym – they thought TLC sounded cool, so they attached words that matched. Jabs aside, it’s a cool place. At first, when I pulled up to the place, I was like “wow, this place exists?”. It’s a non-advertised place with zero signs of any sort. Someone came to the door and asked if they could help me, I’m like, “I hope so!”, and proceeded to explain what’d been going on with me. I was hesitant to get into the program because, first, I knew nothing is free and they’d be making me go through classes and stuff. I explained that, and she explained the whole system. I figure I could probably live within those confines… it’s a cage, but it’s a very big one! Hell, it’s not even so much a cage as just a leg-band or a satellite-tracker thingy… both can be quite annoying to a falcon, but I can still live my life and that’s what matters!
(I still think falcons hate those fucking leg-bands. I hate people that “band” falcons as if they’re doing them a favor attaching something to their legs…)

I still wasn’t 110% sold, and they couldn’t do anything that night, so I spent the night in another motel room up the way for $30 a night (plus a $5 key deposit). After I checked in that night, I helped the office-person-on-duty use my computer and dialup internet to help find some person they lost contact with, using reverse phone lookup and things like that. I got her in the right direction. They were really interested in my laptop, or laptops in general, wanted to buy mine, etc… but finally, I settled down and picked up a nearby wireless network. Yay me, free sort-of internets. Then, curiously, someone rapped on my window (I had the blinds open), I opened the door, and the guy asked if he can use my computer to check his MySpace. Really long story short (so it may seem sketchy but don’t doubt my actions here, lol), the guy had been hitchhiking cross-country and had been taking a Greyhound back home to Missouri (I think?), but someone stole his bags with his tickets, and he was stuck there. Lost for a place to sleep and having no clue where to go in Fresno, he had been told the nearest truck stop was in Tulare or something. Truckers give him rides whereever they happen to be going, and he knows his way around the truck system, so after many hours of yakking it up and considering giving it all up and me driving to there or Canada, I take him to the big truck stop at 99 and Herndon (ish?). It was like paradise for him. It was also way further than he could have ever known, and not many other people would have known about that (it seems), so it was like karma perfection. I spent about 25 miles of gas on the trip but it was worth it – I also got him some food at McDonald’s. He was a little older than me, too, so of course I had nothing but respect for the guy! 🙂
Oh, and for the curious, here’s his MySpace. (In retrospect, I guess he was more than a “little” older than me!)

A cush hotel room with all my current belongings

Anyway, I spend another day at that hotel, before I decide that’s it, and I’m not paying for another day of sleeping in a hotel. I go to the TLC 1 place that TLC 3 (where I originally stopped) referred to, and met with someone who will forever be known as one of the “awesome people”, who is now my case manager, worker, whatever. It’s always tough to explain the whole “Falcon” thing to anyone in person, because it just seems so strange – obviously I’m NOT, and don’t even SEEM like, a falcon, when I’m talking to people in person. It’s only really on the internets that I can actually come out and explain it without myself thinking I’m a little weird. But with just mentioning my online name, Falcon, this total stranger just “got” it and basically said, well, I’m human now, I’m stuck this way, and I just have to make the best of it. If that isn’t the truth, I don’t know what is. To say the least… I was hooked on this place. I found “Home”, “Hope”, and “Help”.

After much talk and such, a piece of paper was given to me that netted me 6 days of free-for-me room at a nearby high-price (by my standards) hotel room. Free internet (cheap DSL), too. A mini-fridge and refrigerator prompted me to go shopping for the first time in months, for frozen and refrigerated items, and I got some frozen meals and stuff to make sandwiches. And cheez-its. They rule. So I spent 6 days in a cushy hotel, with the few clothes I had left, the stuff I packed in my car, and my figurative boots on (you’d have to see Behind Enemy Lines to get that one). A few meetings and a lot of paper-collectings later, I was “in” their program and just waiting for one last paper. After I got out of the hotel, I moved into a temporary apartment and was finally “mostly in” the program. Let me tell you, it was perfect timing, because I couldn’t stand to shove 5 more quarters in a darn washer…

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August 1st… uhm… yeah.

August 23, 2007

Okay, I finally looked up the date all my bank shit (to be written about shortly) went apeshit, and i turned out to have actually happened on July 31st. So instead of shifting around all the dates and trying to figure out what all happened between the 31st and the, uh, 7th, or whenever… I think I’ll just say all this happened on the 1st. 😛

So things have kinda gone on normally for a while… kissy-smoochy QEB, the kids, and the occasional wordless visit by Ken II (hubby). I logged into my USAA bank account, the one my Army pay had been going into while I was doing drills, expecting to see $0.01 in there – typical leftover from after an insurance payment, which comes out of that account too. I see something to the tune of $1,200 instead. What the fuck?! I see something from the Army, and I don’t argue. In the coming 15 minutes, sensing someone to leech money from, that good ol’ gambling bitch comes up outside the stairs and asks if I can take her to Table Mountain. Well, fuck, I have an unexpected and happy amount of money, let’s go wild! I hate gambling (casinos, I should say) but I figure I can take her there, let her waste her money, and we can go home. Well, I go there… let’s see. Long story short, I get $60 mooched off me, and we spend all night there while she shoves money into slot machines gambling everything away. Every time she wins, she puts it right back in the machine. Smart, smart…

So after leaving her there twice, saying I was going home without her, she finally runs dry out of money and is forced to leave since I won’t loan her any more money to waste. Fuming pissed at me, we go back home at like, 8am, after having spent the whole night at the casino. The entire fucking night. I crash on the couch. Wake up, check my mail, and I get a message saying my USAA card was suspended because of weird activity. Yeah, that’s cool… I don’t use it, then I suddenly use it at a casino ATM a few times… alright, got to call them to reactivate my card. I put on my Bluetooth headset and call them via Skype with the modem powered by the UPS and my laptop on battery power (almost dead). I answer all their questions before they get to rattling off the recent transactions, and my laptop battery goes into 0% Kill mode – where it slows the CPU down to 10MHz to keep the battery alive, and the call gets dropped. Great. So I pack up and go to McDonald’s and use their phone to call USAA about my card (I don’t know why I didn’t use my Bluetooth – probably forgot something). Their phone sucks but I end up hearing about a $250 charge (which, later, and for blog shortness, ended up being TWO $250 charges) on my account. No, that’s not mine, and my fucking card is gone! I slept through that bitch ripping my card out of my wallet (which I had been raving about my newfound wealth) and going on a Radio Shack spending spree! Turns out she bought a iPod Nano and a Boost Unlimited phone on my dime, and someone at the counter didn’t even bother checking the ID (which was still in my wallet). Very smart.

Well, police report filed, so on and so forth, and a few days (or day?) later, Ken II comes back home for a while, and shit starts going crazy with QEB, me, Payne, and him. This is known as the “fight scene”. That little memory I wish would go away but I want other people to know about, so I bring it up anyway. I notice some things are getting “tense” and dramatic between him and her, so I get in my little car and scoot off to a faraway McDonald’s to waste some time. I get back some hours later and everything’s being really weird. I hook up the modem and start calling around for places to go. The first person I manage to get ahold of is QS’s (now-ex) girlfriend, who I start telling about my shituation and how fed up I’d been getting with QEB not doing anything to help the electricity problem other than just sit there, etc etc etc… and as I’m telling her this on the phone, QEB gets teh uber pissy, shouting at me, saying “OMFG how can you say I dont do anythign???!!”… ugh. Yeah, she cleans up after the kids. Wow. How about actually doing something with your life other than going to the welfare place to get your check, or going to Ken II’s mom’s place to bug him? Ugh, anyway… so I’m trying to pack up my crap to get out of there when Payne starts siding with QEB, joining in the bullshit yelling, threats, shit like that. I pack up everything I’ve got, or everything valuable I can find, and try to make my way out. But I can’t carry everything, so I’m trying to find a way to carry my printer (a full size printer), my laptop, and a box with the small UPS and assorted other crap… and while I’m trying to get around a fuming-ranting Payne to grab a pair of blue diagonal clippers (um, dikes?), she shoves me away and pretty much starts an all-out fight. I keep the bitch-fest from hurting me (too badly – at least no punches hit me) and Ken II, the “lazy bastard”, helps me carry out some shit. On my way out, here comes QEB with a broken-ass tire pump set up like she’s going to use it as a bat against my car’s window. Ken II’s ahead of me so I yell for him to watch out, and he shoves the bitch away from my car. She then goes after me, swinging the pump at my side (and yeah, that shit hurts). I set up to catch the pump and yank it out of her hands, but she’s too stupid to notice (thankfully), and keeps swinging – I missed once before I pried it out of her hands, mangling it up in the process. I finally get everything I can in my car (excluding clothes) and zip off. Left behind: my socks, underwear, pants, and F-16 T-shirts. And my work uniform ($40 of which I had to buy myself).

I go to work either later that day, or the next day (can’t remember…), with a second “borrowed” uniform, plus some pants and shoes I had to run to Ross and Payless to buy _again_ like 10 minutes before I had to be to work. I ended up being like, 15 minutes late, for my first day of work. To top it all off, all hell was breaking loose at work, with pizza flying all over the place, orders coming and going at a zillion pepperoni a nanosecond, and here I was needing a shirt and hat. I’m amazed I still have the job. But I ended up proving my worth in the coming weeks 😉

Slept in my car again that day. Woke up the next morning around 10am-ish, with a guy from the church asking what’s up, etc… and saying I’m free to stay there if I’d like. I flat-out don’t believe in God, but you know, I wonder if that guy said a prayer for me, and, who knows? Maybe there is someone up there. Because the following days completely turned this shitfest of a life around.

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July 21-ish – August 1st-ish

August 23, 2007

Here is the long awaited story of the second person whom I wish would just go to hell and get out of other peoples’ lives.

Desolate apartment

Note the disassembled UPS on the ground. There was no power.

So, I was in the uberghetto apartment – it turns out that Ken II and his wife were staying there, at his mom’s place, because their own apartment had the power turned off. I figure I could help, with my UPSes (one large APC UPS and one small Belkin job). We head over to their apartment, waythefuck across town, and I get some lights going. It sucks major ass but they say I can stay there as long as I want. Cool. A comfy couch is better than a rigid car seat any day, power or not.

Of course, his wife, we’ll call her Queen El Bitcho (or QEB for short), followed. She hates him. Very much. But she’s so sweet, she put on this nice facade for me. She was so nice, and I was genuinely wondering how a couple of white people (pardon my racism a bit here) could be stuck in such a ghetto shituation. So I totally bought it… she was so happy to see someone that would stand up for her and tell her lazy pain in the ass husband to get off World of Warcrack for 5 minutes to do something about the PG&E; (electric service). The bill was shuffled around and it turns out that his mom was who was paying for their apartment, and they were paying her. She (his mom) stopped paying, so their power got shut off. So for some reason, PG&E; wouldn’t put the damn power in their own name… and we were screwed. Few days go by and QEB starts getting “really” “comfortable” with me. She seemed from the start to be the cuddly, soft type. By that I mean fat and with impossibly low self esteem. She wanted to get away from drama back at the apartment, so I take her around here-and-there in my car and end up stopping at a park. Much wasted time spent talking and bullshitting there, including but not limited to me being on the receiving end of a long kiss. A few. And a bunch of intimate motions and mashing, etc… but we weren’t about to “do it” in the park. I’m sure she would, and she’d be the one to get into my pants… *shudder*

We go back to the apartment and sleep… it wasn’t until the next day that she decided to get into my pants. Needless to day, much booze ensued the next day. Ugh. Come to think of it, I can’t believe I let someone get into my head like that. I cared about her, but I didn’t care FOR her. And I tried to tell her that. Not that she cared. She wanted something “better”. I do find it impossible to believe that was her first time giving head… but uh… beside that. Moving on to the rest of the few weeks.

Laptop. And kid.

Laptop. And the kid that used it most of the time.

She has t… three kids? I think it’s three, if you count the really annoyingly small one. The two were the main ones. The boy, age fuck-knows, and the girl, aged slightly more than the fuck-knows how old boy. At one point I remembered but I cared to forget, so I did. I took one of them out to McDonald’s on a regular basis (since I couldn’t take them both in my car at once). Mostly the boy, since he’s more of a computer guy (as am I) that was into WoW like I was at the time too. So we played WoW at McD’s. A lot. The kids ended up leading to trouble, with me taking them to the pool and starting trouble when I wanted them to get out… shit like that. At least they stayed cool when I got massively shitfaced (vodka + brandy as shots = fucking WIN for HOURS).

Roomba battery rigged to inverter

Even a dead Roomba is still useful in times like this.

Every night I had to take the UPSes down to the laundry room to slide behind a washer and charge overnight. They provided us with internet at the apartment (via the cable modem) and lights at night. It was cool enough. I did some interesting things to juggle the batteries and tried to charge them using my car’s alternator (which, it turns out, isn’t even enough to keep its OWN battery charged). I ended up wiring the batteries wrong and ended up doing some sick perverted hybrid of series- and parallel-connections and I damn near blew something out (didn’t even realize it either, until I found 6.0 volts on one of the 12v batteries, and 15v on the other). Stupid distractions. But anyway, the Roomba battery had about as much power as the Belkin UPS, so that ended up being a good thing to use as well, considering as though the Roomba’s brush deck motor was toast anyway. Still need to replace that motor…

You meet some interesting people in the ghetto. One of QEB’s bestest-friends, Payne as she likes to be called (as I like being called Falcon), helped out with the weed part of the booze+weedfest that kept us somewhat sane during this fucked-up time. She introduced me to a magical device known as a “bong” (I’m not that naive, ofc) and we had a hell of a fun time. She’s a black girl but cool enough to listen to Linkin Park. It’s not often you meet a black person that doesn’t listen to rap – and that’s not racist, that’s just plain statistics. She was real cool. I wasn’t too particularly fond of her ICP (Insane Clown Posse) fetish, but other than the incredibly nasty things they sing about, I didn’t have anything against it either. Weird, but cool. She understood the Falcon thing the same way as I understood the ICP thing, but… I have a hard time explaining it in real detail with a straight face. Even I think it sounds crazy… but online, nothing is crazy. =)

Another interesting character to note would be The Great Gambling Bitch. Now this girl, she was kinda new to everyone here, so we didn’t know much about. But she needed a ride here and there, so I was happy to provide a ride. She gave me a few bucks for the ride, I was happy. She mentioned she might want a ride to Table Mountain (a nearby – 20 or so miles – casino) one of these days. That ended up coming up pretty soon…

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July 20th-ish

August 23, 2007

The 20th (at least, this particular day, whatever day it was) seems to have been an all around interesting day. Most of my in-the-car days were pretty interesting, with most events and stoppings only lasting less than an hour, and nowhere to stop and rest (except McD’s). I go to McD’s like usual, spend some time there, and I get a call on my Skype phone (a la laptop) from crazy-friend Kenney, saying his brother needs his computer fixed again. Oh, I guess I should mention – that Gateway computer from the June story, I gave it to Kenney’s brother, who we’ll call Kenney II. It was part of the free-laptop-shuffle. All these computers were Kenney’s computers at one point anyway… he just breaks ’em and we (QS and I) fix ’em. So anyway… I have no problem with that, so I hop in the car and head to the address he said. Unfortunately, according to my lack of GPS and the fact that the street very quickly goes from 200 South ->100->0->100->200 North, I got North and South of this particular street mixed up and couldn’t find the address. So I called, asked WTF, and he said “yesh, that’s it”. A few questions of the person whom I was borrowing the cell from, and I found I was on the wrong side of the numbers. I thought THOSE apartments were ghetto…

When I finally got to the apartment that Ken II was staying at, I was afraid of getting out of the car for fear of getting my shit stolen. Talk about GHETTO. Well, I get inside, and I find that he had reformatted his (what used to be my) computer, with a botched and unlicensed copy of Windows XP Home – it has a license for XP Pro. No drivers for video, sound, wireless… anything. Retard much? Yeah, I spent a bunch of time rebuilding a new copy of XP Pro for the computer, loading it on there, cleaning it up, etc… before I remembered… FUCK! My interview! It was at 7 and it was already 7:00. I dropped everything (literally), bolted to the car, and flew to Pizza Hut.

I got there all out of breath and shit, and she didn’t even notice I was late (until I mentioned, which was cool). I get through that interview the best I could – it’s not like it’s an acting trial, more like a talent show anyway. I’m given a stack of forms to fill out and, guess what? Even though it wasn’t actually officially said (can they not, or something?), I get the job! The next few hours is spent filling out forms, and getting my uniform… life is sweet! I have a job I actually like, that wasn’t handed to me! And it was the first job I applied for, too… well, at least, in “this run”.

I head back to le apartmente ghettoes, and finish up the computer. I randomly ask if I can spend the night… of course I can. So I sleep there, on the floor… although most of the night was spent shooting shit with one of the guys living there (I guess?), who was a manager at a pizza place for a while, talking about the job, etc… more drama (e.g. almost having to take him to the hospital) follows, and I finally get a bit of sleep. I think orientation was in a few days…

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July 15th – July 20th

August 23, 2007

So, come August 15th… I packed what I could, and drove off. Literally nowhere to go. I remember going off to McDonald’s to get online, going over to my bestest-friend’s place to drop stuff off and pick stuff up… et cetera. I use my new office-in-car (printer, scanner, laptop, inverter, UPS) to fill out and turn in a job application for Pizza Hut, and take their zillion-question personality survey. Then I went to Wal-Mart to sleep since I remembered that they let people stay overnight. I went there, the parking lot was full flooded with lights and an annoying security guard. It was hard enough trying to sleep in seats that don’t recline (a Fiero is a 2-seater car, btw), and in a fighter-jet style cockpit (half the reason I like it so much)… but to have a security guard come up every few hours asking if I’m “OK”? Kinda annoying, thanks for asking. Then later, I get the message I was dreading – a security guard with a Wal-Mart guy. The guy says that Wal-Mart lets RVs park overnight, not cars. Oh. Well, thanks…

Wi-Fi Here.

There's my sign.

This is your captain speaking. We are experiencing some unexpected turbulence…
The next morning, I wake up, go to McDonald’s, veg away doing… something… (I can’t remember what). I’d been applying to a few places to be a delivery driver, because I found that driving is something I actually enjoy. I never thought I would, since I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was like, 19, just because I didn’t want to drive a huge car. But that Fiero totally made me fall in love with driving. So I go to DMV to get a copy of my driving record to apply at a Me-N-Ed’s. I find that they chose this very month, and that very day (like, 2 days ago), to suspend my license for some ticket I got about a YEAR before I got my license (how do you get a ticket without a license? an electric scooter). So, furious, stuck, hopeless, frustrated, confused, and annoyed, I zip back to my bestest-friend (we’ll call him Quicksilver, or QS for short), QS’s place, and nearly in tears, I ask him if he knew the best way to go out with a bang.

We have just lost cabin pressure.
Quite possible the lowest point in my life, ever, without a doubt. On this day I was already struggling to find a place to sleep for the night, my credit card was over the limit, my bank account was also fighting with being overdrawn from a disgusting series of bank fuckups and unmentioned charges, and now I find that my driver’s license is suspended. It is, in fact, exactly as though the entire world said “FUCK YOU”.

Please brace yourselves for a crash landing.
I spend the next few hours sitting outside QS’s place, talking with him, discussing my failure of a life. We don’t go inside because his mom’s scrappy little piece of shit dog barks endlessly when I’m around. I lay there on the hood of my car looking up at the sky and talking about how I could possibly just end myself. Why didn’t I do it earlier? Why am I still here? Where is this fucked-up life going? How much further could I sink before I hit absolute bottom? Fortunately, as it turned out… I had reached rock bottom.

We hope you enjoyed your flight on Cushy Carefree Life Airlines.
After a long hang-out session of talking and sharing thoughts, and a couple cans of Pepsi, we walked over to a nearby church’s parking lot. It was rather hidden from the main street, and looked half deserted. So I had a place to sleep for the coming nights without needing to worry about Wal-Mart lights or security guards. And for once in a few nights, I slept somewhat well. Woke up the next morning, gathered up my few remaining shreds of dignity, and went to the courthouse to get my goddamn license back. I ended up even having to see a judge with a room full of other traffic-violating scums of the planet. Turns out that ticket was from 2005-ish, when I was driving my electric scooter around, and I didn’t have a helmet for one of my Jack-in-the-Box trips. Oh fucking darn. So I had a failure-to-appear for something I wasn’t even mailed about, or anything… gruh. The judge in her neverending kindness, bumped the fine/fee/whatever down to a total of $110. Yeah… $110, for something I did before I had a license. Fuck tha police. <.<

I have my license back, well, almost. It was early in the morning so I stop by my mom’s place and tell her what’s up. She gives me the $60 (I think?) to get my license back, and get a new copy of my record that doesn’t say “Suspended” on it. She also gives me a box of all the mail she’s gotten for me that she didn’t tell me about (e.g. a fat envelope from DMV saying “Fuck you”). I go down to DMV (yes, all this, evidently on a suspended license…), and get my license the fuck back. I pony up the dough, thankfully provided by my still-somewhat-kind mom, and get a new copy. There’s that piece of shit out of the way!

Well, I put in some other applications, and I get a call from Pizza Hut for an interview while I was sitting at McDonald’s. Holy shit! A fucking interview?!… well, yep! My life’s in the shit, but I pulled it together enough to come in that same day for an interview. At the end, everything seemed to have gone well, so the manager set me up for another interview a few days later. Omfg, I have a job? Maybe…

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July 1 – July 15th

August 23, 2007

Ahh, the beginning of the end. When I start to grow quite fond of laundromat washers. I don’t know which one is more tragic: the loss of my mother, or the loss of my F-16 T-shirt collection. Both are things that happen later, but… well, you’ll see. Read on.

So I move out of the ghetto shit trainwreck of a so-called “boarding home” and move into the same shack I lived in for a few months in 2005. I drop most of my stuff off at my bestest-friend’s place because there’s no way two packrats are living in a micro-sized tool-shed. I slept on the floor most nights.

That would be my friend. We call him Kenney. He's interesting.

I had my Cube computer, my HP laptop, and my Gateway laptop, when I moved in there. Also took my CD-recording stuffs, TiVo, and a few other things. When I got there, the whole place was a mess with my friend’s junk. I organized a bunch of it and set up my stuff along-side his – somewhat of a bad move considering we both have similar techno junk. He’s got a Blu-Ray equipped Vaio laptop, though. Can’t touch that.

Things were meh for a while… he got me involved in World of Warcraft and I had fun. It helped me ignore the credit card going out of control, the lack of money, the lack of food, and the lack of air conditioning in the hundred-plus-degree heat. It truly is the beginning of the end. I was living at this friend’s place – actually, it’s not his, it’s his step-mom’s place. His step-mom is a psychotic nutjob that hardly speaks English, yet because of the beauty of marriage, his dad can’t divorce the pain-in-the-ass because she’d get the house, the money, the cars, and everything. And that’s the only thing she’s smart enough to realize – so she can do whatever she wants and get away with it. Including kicking me out, despite me not causing them any trouble at all, just because she doesn’t like the way I look at her. Or something. I don’t know. I think she hates my computers, or how much “power” they use (she swapped a 13 watt fluorescent bulb for another 13 watt bulb – she’s just that stupid). But at any rate… I was out of there on the 15th.

Basically, day after day I was sitting there, eating dry Ramen out of the bag, playing WoW. For a few days, the business we had been trying to start (Falcon Systems) took off and we got like, 3 customers, for a total of about 300 bucks in a few days. It was looking good until I heard that it took like, 100 flyers, posted all over town, to get that few calls. It wasn’t working, so the business crashed and we gave up on it. I’d sit there with the box-fan-swamp-cooler blowing sweet cool air at my face, wondering where my life was going. Pretty much nowhere. Freedom is something that doesn’t exist.

The night before, I ended up putting two songs on loop: My Chemical Romance – Welcome to the Black Parade, and Matchbox Twenty – Could I Be You. I lay there in bed thinking about my miserable life, how far down I’ve fallen, and why there’s nobody that seems to give a quarter of a shit. And only one person I can really talk to that cares, or can even try to relate. And I think of how I could “go out with a bang”. And I don’t mean being a suicide bomber – that’s for religious psychotic douches. There are just some people and things that need to be removed from existence… and my little fantasy world of an idiot-free world was becoming more and more like a reality.

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June 1st – June 30th

August 23, 2007

So, here’s the first part of the rollercoaster ride to hell. My mom, in her infinite intelligence, paid for and put me in a so-called “boarding home”. I don’t know why that phrase brings up images of foster homes and dying kids, but that’s pretty much it. It was basically just a 4-bedroom house in the upper-end of town, with like, 7 people living in it. Each one paid a good portion of their income to the “owners”, a rather balancing black, uh, lesbian couple. Nothing against that. But what got me is how there was one nice, kind woman, who was always being “bitched up” by the other one, the big black bitch. Unless the Big Black Bitch was out of the house, the nice one was always rude, I guess to show off for her honey. And the big problem was, the Big Black Bitch was legally retarded (just guessing). Seriously. That whole house was, basically, something those people didn’t deserve. They have no idea how to run anything around there. They run the air conditioner with the windows open. They open the windows during the hot day and close them at night. They spray carpet-cleaning foam on the ground, vacuum it all up immediately, and wonder why their vacuums are broken.

And of course, they weren’t willing to take any advice from anyone “below them”, e.g. someone paying them “rent”. Rent was 600 bucks a month to live in a genuine shithole of a house, and get fed dry (cooked, with no toppings) rice in the morning, half a Ramen brick of soup for lunch, and meat-on-the-bone for dinner. Do you honestly think I was going to live with that? And them calling the “po po” out on me for turning off the air conditioner with the windows and doors hanging wide open? Yeah, the fucking police. They called the police on me. Yep, I got the fuck out of that shithole. And because they’re lesbians (like my mom, openly), my mom sides with them all the time. That hasn’t even gotten to the part where they promised they’d help me get welfare and food stamps and whatnot, then saying “Go get them yourself” without giving me any information – then telling my mom that they told me everything. I hope that whole house burns down. Oh, the other residents? Mentally retarded people (no, serious, this time) and old folks. Talk about exploitation…

There were, of course, some things there that I took for granted, that I certainly learned in the next month weren’t easy to get. Like, a place to put my stuff – a whole room where I could keep, uh… 3… 4… 5… 6 computers… all on a wireless network. 7, if you count their eMachines computer I sometimes hijacked for DVD-encoding. And they had DirecTV which played real nice with my TiVo. Oh – 8 computers, if you count the 225mhz pfSense box that bridged the two internet connections (one from a neighbor which I happily cracked the 2wire WEP code of). I guess that was “the life”.

It was kind of a transition from the carefree life of living with my mom, into the incomparably disgusting slum of a life I ended up transitioning into in the coming few weeks…