Personal Experience – Page 2

A Tale of Two Dogs

My Wife and I were Driving Down a Desolate Road that runs through the Wooded Countryside about an Hour away. We saw the Car which was a ways down the Road in front of Us Pump its Brake Lights before pulling over and Parking on the side of the Road. Once the Car was parked what appeared to be a Soccer Mom Hopped out looking a bit Rattled. My Wife wondered Aloud what was going on with the Whole Soccer Mom thing was about. It was then I informed My Wife that I saw something Running around in the Road. It appeared to an Animal (that I safely assumed was a Dog considering our Location and Surrounding) about 40 Feet In Front of the Soccer Mom who was Now Standing on the Side of the Road watching Whatever was in the Road intently.

We pulled over and Parked to see what was Exactly going on, and to see if We might be of Service in some way which was the Case. We walked up to the Soccer Mom who was still standing motionless in the same spot on the Side of the Road. As We were walking up to the Woman We noticed that it was in fact a Dog that looked Friendly enough, but at the same Time a Bit Leary of Strangers. The Soccer Mom told US that the Reason She had stoped was She had seen the Dog wondering in the Road, and when She got nearer to the Dog it started Nervously Zig Zagging back and forth across the Road.

Now while this was a what most would call a “Back Road” there was virtually No traffic to Speak of. That didn’t mean the Dog was Safe from being Struck and more than likely Killed by a Car You see on These lone Roads People use Speed Limits as fucking Suggestions. Suggestions They promptly Ignore and Speed like Sons of Bitches sometimes Crashing Their Vehicles and Accidentally Killing Themselves. The point being if Someone came Speeding down the Road and the Dog was in the Road there Sadly wouldn’t be jack shit Anyone could have done about it.

My Wife and I both Worked in the Veterinary Field for over 10 Years, are Pet People, and Avid Animal Lovers (Yes I’m one those Cliche Anti Social Stereotypes that Prefers the Company of Animals over that of His fellow Man) which definitely worked in Our Favor here. The Dog looked to be a Tan Hound or Hound Mix of Some Sort which made Perfect Sense for the Area where almost Everyone Hunts, and that makes Hunting Dogs a Extremely Valuable Commodity in the Community.

We knelt down and The Dog came to Us with No Objection or Fear and then We could get a better look at it. It was a Light Tan Female Hound Mix that was Lean as could be with a Solid Gray Muzzle that showed off Her advanced Age. Luckily for Us in this Case the Dog had a Not Only a Collar, but It had a Tag with Pertinent Information like Name and Owner’s Phone Number. Now I say Luckily because out in the Woods People have a Very Old School Attitude when it comes to Pet Dogs/ Farm Dogs/Country Dogs, but I’ll circle around back to that a Little later on.

The Next Issue We had to Combat was the that We were on such a Lonely Stretch of Highway Not one of the Three of Us could get a fucking Signal worth a Damn. Not only that but None of Us was from the Area as We were just like everyone else Driving Through on Their way Somewhere else. At last the Soccer Mom prevailed and got a Sketchy Signal and Called the Number on the Dog’s Collar while trying hard as hell not to more a single inch as to Not lose the Shaky Cell Signal. After a couple of Rings a Gruff and Unfriendly Man answered who took damn near 5 fucking Minutes to be able to Figure Out why the Soccer Mom was bothering Him with the Phone Call. The Man sounded like one of those Miserable Bastards that hates His Life and Has given Up all Hope so They spend the Remainder of His Days being a Deliberate Dick about it.

The Douchebag on the Phone tells Us (since the Phone was on Speaker) He lives 2 Hours away somewhere, It’s actually His Dad’s Dog, and since His Dad lived “In the Area” He suggested We turn the Dog loose, and She’d use Her instincts to get back Home. The Soccer Mom though to Her credit DID NOT and WAS NOT going to Leave the Dog alone on the Side of the Road No Matter What since She thought the Dog was at Risk of Being Hit By a Car.

I couldn’t figure out if the Douchebag Son was being Difficult just for the sake of it (Though in all due fairness Out in those parts of the Woods People aren’t accustomed to Visitors, and are generally weary of Strangers/Outsiders) or if He simply couldn’t care less or What His deal was, BUT He simply ignored the Soccer Mom’s request for His Father’s Phone Number or Since He lived “In the Area” His address and She’d even drive the Dog back Home.

It was like I said all in vain as The Son just kept bitching about not Bothering to do shit, and just turning the Dog loose back on the Road where it was Found. Finally the Son begrudgingly told the Soccer Mom he’d Text Her His Father’s address, But His Father was currently at Work so Obviously He wouldn’t be Home. We waited trying to figure out if the Text was taking a while since reception was almost non existent out where We were OR if the Son being the Dickbag that He was had No Intention of sending said Text, and said so just to get the fuck off the Phone.

As We waited killing the Time by talking shit about what an asshole the Son was We suddenly noticed Not One but Two Other Additional Dogs wonder Out of the Woods and directly into the Road. They were a Pair of Labs One Yellow that seemed Skittish even from a far, and a Big Old Husky Chocolate Lab who turned out to be a Male crossed the Road to the side We were on, and lumbered on Down to see Us. As for His less than trusting Partner He/She opted to return into the Woods rather than come and see what We were about. And as Luck would have it the Chocolate Lab had a Collar and Tag too which in these parts was literally like Lighting Striking Twice I assure You. So again We proceeded to locate a Shady signal and call the Number on the Dog’s Collar and got Very Different Results to say the Least.

The Young Man on the Phone was Surprised His Dog had gotten out of the Yard, and even made the comment The Dog had never done so before. He said thank You for holding onto His Dog and Letting Him Know He was loose, and said He lived Near by and Was on His Way to Retrieve His Dog. About Ten Minutes Later or So a Large Jacked Up Pick Up Truck with Mud Caked Tires, and Hunting Dog Kennels/Cages in the occupying the Bed of the Truck came driving down the Road. The Chocolate Lab became more and more excited as the Truck Approached as He was well aware it was His Master Coming. The Truck pulled up and Stopped right next to Us before a Young Man looking to be in His Mid too Late Twenties climbed Out of the Cab dressed in Camouflage Pants, Neon Orange T-Shirt, John Dear Baseball Cap, and Beat Up Shit Kicker Boots.

He thanked Us again before letting US know That the Lab Named Pooh (I assume after Winnie-The-Pooh, but it could have been a Fecal Reference) was the Ripe Old Age of 10 though He didn’t seem to Know it, and had due to His age and Age oriented Hip Issues had recently been Retired from Hunting. The Young Man said it sucks because He honestly misses having Pooh with Him after a Decade Hunting together, but HE didn’t want to be the asshole who Runs His Dog all Day Hunting only to have the Dog’s Hips go to shit at the end of the Day. Unfortunately for Pooh He didn’t feel the same way about His Age because all Pooh Knew was the Thrill of the Hunt proving You can take the Dog out of the Hunt, But You can’t take the Hunt out of the Dog. The Young Man Attempted to get Pooh to load up into one of the Kennels/Cages in the Back of the Truck, which He did half assed being Pooh preferred to Ride in the Cab along with His Master. The Young Man joked that Pooh may not enjoy the Perks of Retirement as of Yet He has asserted that if He was in fact Retired then Why should He ride in the Back where the Current Hunting Dogs Rode. And with That the Young Man and Pooh Drove off towards Home.

While We were happy to get Pooh back where He belonged My Wife, Soccer Mom, Tan Dog, and Myself were still stuck in Our Original Dilemma. It Turned out that the Douchebag Son had texted His Father’s Address , and the Text had come in sometime while We were talking with Pooh’s Dad.As I said earlier None of Us knew where the hell We were, and We couldn’t GPS the Address since the Cell Reception was Abysmal. My Wife and I decided (due to the fact We had more Animal Experience along with a better Understanding of such things as Lost Pets) We would take the Dog Home thus relieving the Distressed Soccer Mom to Go on with Her Day. The Soccer Mom was quite thankful to be relieved of Duty at it were. The Soccer Mom thanked Us for stopping and Helping, and to have a Great Day before She drove off to wherever it was She was initially Headed.

Then We loaded Up the Dog who seemed comfortable with Cars into the Backseat, and proceeded to Drive for 6-7 minutes until We had decent Cell reception. Once We had reception We entered the Address into Google Maps and off We Went. It turned out The Tan Dog Lived a ways down a Dirt Road that if You didn’t know was there You’d miss it. After several minutes of getting the World’s Shittiest Message thanks to the uneven terrain arrived at the Dog’s House. The House was a Double Wide Mobile Home that was Set around 3 Blocks or so Back from the Dirt Road, and Had a Tall and Foreboding Fence Topped with Barbwire. There were signs plastered all over the Place From No Trespassing to Warning Cameras in Use making the Place seem even More Unwelcoming. It felt to Me like I was Standing On the Property line of some Mentally Ill, Severely Paranoid, Doomsday Preppier Conspiracy Theorist in a Tin Foil Hat holding a Shotgun.

We couldn’t hoist the Dog over the Fence so We located a Large Iron Cattle Gate that was being used to Block Access to the Driveway that had a Rusty Old Tow Chain wrapped around it to keep it closed. My Wife messed with the Chain and Realized there was No Pad Lock so all She had to do was uncoil the Chain and let the Dog back into the Yard. So We did just That accept as soon as We got the Dog back in the Yard it immediately Slipped Under the Cattle Gate since it was a Dirt Driveway the Dog had dug under it to get Free. This was a huge kick in the metaphorical Balls. We had at last gotten the Dog out of Harms way and Home only to be fucked over by a Shitty Gate Issue.

It was then I saw the Neighbor down the way arriving Home so I figured He might be useful in some manner. My Wife and I made the short trek down the Road to the Neighbors House, and walked up just as a Old Man was headed towards the Front Door. We called out and got His attention, and He came down the Drive to meet Us. He was a Very British Man who was a Nice as could possibly Be who informed Us He had seen the Dog running the Neighborhood several times before, but He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of The Dog in 6 weeks. Now I said I’d come back around to this and here We are as The British Gentlemen said there wasn’t a lot anyone could do in General since the “People around here have a very Country Attitude about Dogs”. This is why I said previously in this post that a Dog with a Collar was Uncommon and Tags are unheard of. In these Parts People put their Dogs out in the Morning, let them Run Amok, and Then the Dog(s) return Home for Dinner at Night. We chatted with the British Gentlemen a while longer and then started to make Our way back to Our car that was parked outside the Main Gate of The Dog’s House.

My Wife figured at least the Dog was back on familiar turf, and We had done al that We could have to Help, and I meanwhile was afraid as Soon as We started to Drive Off the Dog would Run After Us thus leaving the Issue Ultimately Unresolved. Thats when a Large White Pick Up Truck drove past us, Stopped, and Drove back to where We were in reverse. There was a pleasant Middle Aged Couple in the Truck that were the Neighbors that lived on the Opposite side of the Dog Owner’s Property, and were well acquainted with the Dog. We told them the Story and as We did the Dog hopped up into the Back of the Couple’s Pick Up. The Couple said they has seen Us and wanted to see if We needed Help because Our Car took a Shit on Us, and Not to Worry about the Dog. I felt a bit better that at least now there was someone else who could and was willing to keep an Eye on the Dog until Her idiotic owner returned Home from Work. As The Couple Drove Off the Dog gave Chase and I assume followed Them back to Their House which also made Me feel Better about things.

Now with BOTH Dogs back where They Belonged more or Less My Wife and I got into Our Car and went on Our Way.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

Is There a Veterinarian in The House?!

I had been working in a Dog Kennel/ Boarding Facility when I decided to become a Veterinarian Technician or Vet Tech. It made sense since I liked working with Animals over People, and let’s face it Most People Suck a Bag of Dicks on the Daily. The problem was while I enjoyed working at the Dog Kennel but it wasn’t what one would call Intellectually Challenging in the Least, and the Day to Day routine had become mundanely Boring.

After looking for a while I landed a Job at a Near Veterinarian Clinic run by a Veterinarian named Dr. Yavid Yorn. I’m going to take a minute to clear up a quick question some Reader’s may be Wondering about so bare with Me. While there are Plenty of Schools that offer a Vet Tech Programs (which is fine by all means) in Reality Veterinarian’s prefer to Hire Someone with Experience, But being an Off the Street Newbie isn’t a deal breaker as Long as You are Reliable, Trainable, and a Hard Working Animal Lover with Initiative thats works just Fine.

There is an extremely simplistic reason for this. While having experience is obviously the Number One thing You can bring to the Table with a shit ton of Jobs not just Veterinary Medicine. The reason Vet’s are a Bit Leery of the School Educated Vet Tech because there is a HUGE fucking Difference between Restraining a Large Pissed off Dog in Real Life let’s say versus learning about Animal Restraint Techniques Strictly from a Book. Unfortunately School Educated Vet Tech’s tend to think They’re ready, but Veterinarian Medicine is all about Trial By Fire and They tend to Freeze Up.

Anyway back to Our story Already in Progress.

It was early in the Afternoon when a Woman called the to make a Rather Unusual Appointment. She told Me there had been an Illegal Chop Shop in Her Neighborhood that had a Big Ass Rottweiler Guarding the Property. Well the Chop Shop closed and when the assholes left they turned the fucking Dog loose onto the Streets. The Woman had seen the Dog roaming aimlessly around and had decided out of the Ignorance of Her heart to Feed it. Now that it been awhile the Woman wanted to bring in the Dog for an Exam to make sure everything is Kosher.

We made Her an Appointment as well as Informed Her this was NOT a Good/Smart idea as She knew absolutely NOTHING about the Dog like its Over All Temperament, Behaviors or Possible Triggers that could cause Sudden Aggression. We informed Her that just because She had been feeding the Dog Didn’t make this Situation a goddamn Disney motherfucking Movie not by a Long fucking Shot. We advised Her the Best thing to do was to Contact Animal Care and Control (ACC) which She declined to do. She didn’t have the Highest Opinion of ACC so She refused to even consider it as a viable and logical Answer, and Dr. Yorn Okayed the Appointment soWe made One for Her.

Looking back on it Now I can’t figure Out Why after telling Her all that WHY THE FUCK DR. YORN ALLOWED HER MAKE AN APPOINTMENT?! I mean can You say Red fucking Flag or WHAT?! After learning the so called History and relationship of the Woman and the Dog We didn’t just Hang the fuck Up DEFYS LOGIC as well as COMMON SENSE. It Literally was THE WORST FUCKING IDEA/OPTION We could have fucking Made Considering what We knew, BUT We Did because Dr. Yorn said to do so.

Time Passed uneventfully that was until The Woman with the Stray Chop Shop Rottweiler Showed Up. The Dog was a Prize Specimen looking to be 100 pounds or So of Pure fucking Muscle, and a Head as Big as a fucking Frozen Turkey. The Woman it turns out is 5 foot fucking Nothing and weighed no more than 90 fucking Pounds TOPS. The Dog comes barreling into the Waiting Room like a Bull in a China Shop dragging the Tiny Woman behind Him as She fought to hold on the the Leash. MORE AND MORE RED FLAGS. Dr. Yorn could have told Her Oh Hell No fuck that, but AGAIN HE DIDN’T.

Well needless to say the Clients in the Waiting Room were Less than Thrilled about this Development, and looked on the Verge of Panicking. Dr. Yorn directed US to escort the Woman and Dog directly into the Nearest Empty Exam Room which We Did. The fucked up thing is the Woman was Totally fucking Oblivious to what the fuck is really going on, and is actually Laughing like a Fucking Fool the entire fucking Time. I Know it’s Redundant, BUT STILL MORE RED FLAGS.

Dr. Yorn’s next decision was to Tell Me to go into the Exam Room with the Woman and have her Muzzle the Dog just so We could WEIGHT THE FUCKING THING (Red Fucking Flag!). I knew why He had chosen Me and I’m not being Sexist but the Other 3 Employees where 2 Petite Young Girls, and the Third was a Little Old Lady in her Mid 60’s. SO if You stop and think about it You could say based on the Other 3 Employees I was hired because I was obviously much Bigger, and desernably Stronger so isn’t that Sexist?!

Anyway I went in and handed the Muzzle to the Woman who is still giggling like a Drunk School Girl unaware that the Dog She is with is fully capable of KILLING HER, and Tossing HER MANGLED CORPSE around like a fucking Rag Doll. I then instruct Her on how to put the Muzzle on Correctly, BUT the Dog isn’t fucking having it. The Dog Keeps ducking, bobbing, and weaving to avoid the Muzzle put well on His Muzzle, and when the Woman did get the Muzzle in Place the Dog would rub against He leg and immediately dislodge it. Essentially We were getting absolutely fucking NO WHERE and the Dog was becoming More and More Agitated which was the Exact OPPOSITE of what We wanted to do all things Considered.

I was becoming EXTREMELY Uncomfortable as I saw this scenario going South REAL fucking Fast, and This was NOT the Dog to be fucking around with that was for Sure. I leaned forward slightly and pointed at the Loose Strap since the Woman was just Chuckling Her fucking head off, and really making things seriously Worse. Thats when the Dog Lunged at Me attempting to Lock onto My Left Forearm, BUT since I saw it coming so to Speak I had already begun to pull My Hand Back which prevented the Dog from being able to Bite it in which case I’d be Totally and Properly fucked. Instead of grabbing hold of My Forearm The Dog Bit… .how should I put this a “Chunk” of Flesh along with a little Muscle.

I remember clear as fucking Day being fucking Eye to Eye with the goddamn Dog and realized more likely than not the Dog was going to Release Me only so it could Attack again trying to Establish a Deadlier Hold on Me. Instinctively I Screamed “MOTHERFUCKER!” a loud a fuck right into the Dog’s fucking Face, and it worked as it effectively Startled the shit Out of the Dog confusing it enough to Let Go of My Arm while allowing Me to Escape out the Door like a Bolt of fucking Lightning. The Clients in the Waiting Room looked So Surprised it Looked as if They all had infant Shit Themselves Silly with Shock.

I made My way into the Medical Prep/ Pharmacy where My Co Workers cleaned the Wound, Disinfected it, and Bandaged it for Me. Now since the Dog was a Stray with No Known Vaccination Record or Rabies Tag meant I was Off to the Emergency Room for Rabies Treatment. Luckily for Me there had been Quite a few Advancements in Medicine including in the Treatment for the Prevention of Rabies in People Bitten by Wild Animal or Dogs and Cats without known Current (aka Valid) Rabies Vaccination. They used to Stab the Patient REPEATEDLY in the Abdomen with a SLEW OF INJECTIONS and was know it be EXTREMELY PLEASANT AKA PAINFUL.

Like I said though Luckily for Me I ended up getting an Entire Bag of IV Antibiotics, 4 Shots in My left Arm, 3 Shots in My Right Arm, One in My Left Ass Cheek, and One Shot at the Bite Sight. That means they give You SEVERAL INJECTIONS directly around the Wound which seems to be the Worst of Both Worlds. After the Shots and Intravenous Antibiotic regiment They released Me after Letting Me know I’d have to come Back periodically for subsequent follow up Injections to Finish the Entire Rabies Protocol. That was unless the Dog was Cleared as a Rabies Threat before the Treatment Shots were Done.

Now allow Me a moment to fill in any of Our Reader’s in on a Little fact. Until VERY recently there was only one Protocol for a Situation like this which is I go for Medical Treatment, and the Dog would be Surrendered (aka Turned Over) to Animal Care and Control. The Dog would remain Quarantined at Animal Care and Control until it was Promptly Euthanized after which its Head would be Severed, and its Brain Dissected for signs of Rabies. Though Morbid as a Motherfucker it was the Deemed the only effective way to handle the Situation.

A Few Years ago the Thinking on how to Handle said situation changed Dramatically. Those in the Know as it were had come to the Conclusion that since Rabies takes 10 Days before becoming Symptomatic so if a Dog per say with No Documented Rabies Vaccination Bit Someone it could be Kept in Quarantine for 10 Days. After 10 Days the Animal would start to become Systematic which is Impossible to Miss since it Involves such things as Staggering, Excessive Drooling, Irrational and Unusually Aggressive Behavior, and a Irrational Fear of Water as Rabies Rots and Erodes the Patients Brain and Nervous System. This way the Animal Didn’t have to be Killed Unnecessarily which Everyone Agreed was a Much Better than the Previous Method.

As Luck would have it the Dog was in the End Cleared and I didn’t have to finish out the Entire Regiment of Rabies Shots. I did though Have to go and get 2 Subsequent injections while the Dog was in Quarantine which sucked balls. I don’t mind getting Shots/Injections at this point in My Life, BUT I HATE WAITING LIKE MOTHERFUCKER. You see when You show up at the ER for a simple Shot You are obviously the LOWEST PRIORITY, and will Remain so Indefinitely. This means a SHIT TON of Waiting I’m talking fucking HOURS, But Alls Well That Ends Well.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober (2:21 am)

Everything is Coming up R̶o̶s̶e̶s̶ Crack Roses

Once upon a time, I used to be that guy that would check the internet for random holidays and annoy the shit out of people celebrating them.

National Cupcake Day? Sounds good to me.

National Piss Off Your Co-Worker Day? Why limit that to one day? I did this by breathing every single day. I once got poked in the eye by a female co-worker for the simple reason of me doing my job. Got a nifty pair of goggles by that is another tale.

National Prostitutes Day- I used to celebrate this but not anymore. I don’t think I’m still for sale but I sure as hell am not crusty enough to be buying yet.

So this week I am going to proclaim National Crack Cocaine Week. I am not really sure why it should be this week. I mean Bobby Brown was born in February and Whitney Houston was born in August. The crack mayor from the 1990s Marion Barry was born in March.

So why Crack Week? Why should it be right now? All of my actions this week have led me to crack. I have not personally smoked crack in more than a decade, nor do I have any burning desire to do so. Yet if I were pulled over earlier this week by a cop I would have quite a bit of difficulty explaining myself. My truth is their fiction.

It all started so innocently. Boy meets boy. Boys get weed. Boys smoke a bong hit. Boy gets a bit too high. Boy asks what is in this. Boy gets told freebase. Boy is older than the internet so he has no clue. Innocence gone.

Boy hits a car going 2 miles per hour. Lady in other car has a hissy fit. Cops come. Boy bats his eyes and pleads innocence. Cop tells boy (me) to go fuck my friend. I say no he’s not into me. Cop says your friend wants it real bad. Friend doesn’t believe me. Cop then flicks his tongue in and out at us in a manner that reminded me of Gene Simmons. Friend believes me.

So that is my history. That is my first time. I know some of you will say freebase is not crack to which I say YOU ARE A CRACKHEAD.

Back to the present……

I had a rather unfortunate event with my glass bong last weekend. I yanked it from underneath my kitchen cabinet directly upward and destruction was upon me.

Then at the same time I somehow threw out the only screen I had for it into the garbage. I checked my two faucets. They were barren of screens. So now logic would dictate I just buy a screen with the bong but no. I just bought a bong by itself.

Then I was just down to some shake left in my bag o’ weed. So instead of going back to where I bought the bong I thought oh I should just buy some Chore Boy. In my head I remember it as not having so many holes in it. So I threw my shake in there with the Chore. It utterly failed. I did have a flashback to smoking crack, not an urge per-say, just well Chore Boy does have a unique taste on its own.

So now I’m stuck with this.

At least if a random crackhead comes out of the woods and somehow gets into my apartment they will have something useful to steal. I’m seriously considering sticking it in a bowl with 1000 pennies so they’d have another amusement. Copper for the win BABY!!!

So then this new bong had a stem I did not like. (I did not break the old stem). It was too long and thin. So I decided to execute it in my sink. I thought it would break into a million pieces but instead I ended up with this. The STEMASAURUS!!!

By SpaceDog

A Lesson In Anger Management: Shitty Customer Service

I have Commented Before that Customer Service is a Dying Art if You will and Now Customer Service in General fucking Sucks. Well I had another Run in with a World Class Customer Service Shitbag.

The Issue was SO MINOR it was damn near Pathetic here’s Why. I Hate, Loath, and Despise Our Current TV/Internet Provider so I did what Anyone would do in this Situation I called Another Company and got a Better Deal. The Only small fuck up was the Sales Rep. was supposed to E-mail Me the Terms and Conditions bullshit Paperwork, but I never received said E-mail (though the Sales Rep. was VERY fucking Insistent I would get it Shortly after We concluded Our Phone Call as it were.) That was Yesterday.

Since I live in Bumfuck No Where USA We still have fucking Ridiculous 2 Year Service Contracts to Deal with. So Obviously I want to be goddamn sure I know what I’m getting into First believe You Me. With the Installation Scheduled for Tomorrow I was getting a bit fucking Irritated that My Window to Review Said Documents was Narrowing.

Today I Simply called the New Provider to Simply Request that the Initial E-mail Simply be Resent. HOW FUKCING SIMPLE IS THAT?!! Well it was a LOT Harder to Accomplish My Goal when I had this Great Displeasure of Getting Stuck with a Complete and Utter Asshole of a Customer Service Representative.

First Off this Asshole mumbles HIs name so COMPLETELY INCOHERENTLY It Didn’t in fact sound Like He was Speaking a Language, But More like He was just making Random Guttural Animalistic Grunts. Anyway I tell Him I SIMPLY need a E-mail Resent BECAUSE I never Received it in the First fucking Place.

The Next thing I know He said He had to Look Up My Account Information which I found Rather Fucking ODD, But I gave the shit The Benefit of the Doubt. Perhaps He’d need to Verify My E-mail which seemed likely to Me. I just rather Assumed The Sales Rep. had Typed in My E-mail Address Wrong and that was SIMPLY It. While this Asshole is Allegedly looking Up My Account Info Goes Unusually Quite leaving Me to A) Wonder if the Call Got Dropped or Some Technical Issue like His Head Set took a shit, and B) Listening to the Extraneous Background Babbling of His fellow Call Center Co-Workers.

After 15 minutes of the Happy Horseshit I SIMPLY commented Out Loud that was Not a Good First Impression for a New Customer, and it seemed silly that I had to go through ALL this just to SIMPLY have an E-mail Resent. This did Not Bode Well with Customer Service Shithead, and He copped THE BIGGEST BULLSHIT ATTITUDE You’d think He was a Tween Girl who got insulted on Social Media or some Stupid shit like that.

This Prick gets all Pissy with ME all of a Sudden. Before I can even Complete My First Thought (which was What the Fuck/Who the Fuck Does this Fuckwit think He is?!! ) HE starts Lecturing Me like a Bitchy Librarian. This Shitface Informs ME that if I can’t Stop being Rude HE is Going to Terminate the Phone call.

I asked Him How Exactly was I being Rude as I wasn’t Getting Loud/Yelling, I Didn’t Insult or Threaten Him in Anyway Whatsoever, and I was using Foul/Obscene/Abusive Language. HE didn’t Answer so I SIMPLY asked the Fucknuts Again and Then Again with still No ANSWER. Finally Mr. Motherfucker speaks up Again and Suggest We Keep The Call Professional. I Reiterate My Question this Time Though asking How was I Not Being Professional?!! This Time He Babbled some bullshit Incoherently about Professionalism which to ME made Absolutely No fucking Sense At All. It seemed to be Him Vocalizing His Current Train of Though.

Once He Stops His Bout of Verbal Diarrhea I tells ME that this in Actuality ISN’T HIS DEPARTMENT. I then Fed Up as fuck asked to be Transferred to the RIGHT DEPARTMENT. And Yet Again this Shitheel coups More of an Shitty Attitude with ME as HE tells ME that HE has to Place Me on a Short Hold while He finds the fucking Number. THE FUCKFACE WORKS THERE WHY DIDN”T HE KNOW THE FUCKING NUMBER I ASK YOU?!!

I sat on fucking Hold for just Short of 5 Minutes to see if Captain Cock Lock would indeed Return. Alas He DID NOT and I SIMPLY Hung the hell up. I then Immediately Called Back, and was Helped by a Very Nice Gentlemen who Apologized for the Previous Peckerhead as well Informing ME as to How I could Locate the Information I was Looking For. Heres the fucking Kicker You can do it on Their Website with the Proper Identification Numbers which the Sales Rep. had given to ME Yesterday so Cool.

This Last Piece of Information did UTTERLY PISSED ME OFF. This Meant 1) The Asshole I felt with WASN’T evening the Right Department to Assist Me and 2) The Little Fuckflap could have just SIMPLY confirmed I had the Correct Numbers and Informed ME How to Navigate Their Site with No Problem EASY. I decided I had behaved MYSELF which is REALLY RARE Especially when I’m Confronted by Some Fuck-Sucker.

I asked the Cool Second Customer Service Rep Guy if They had a Complaint Department as I would like to Lodge a Complaint because of the Shitty way Their Employee had Behaved. He said Yes and Promptly gave it to Me. I then Ended My Call with Him and Instantly then Called The Number He gave Me. I got a rather Extensive and Elaborate Automated System which I had to Figure Out How to Circumvent It to Reach the Right Department Once Again. I managed to Contact a ACTUAL FUCKING HUMAN BEING. It was the Office Operator, and I told Her Why I was Calling, and She Directed My Phone Call Accordingly.

Once Another Very Polite Gentlemen fro H&R Picked Up I told Him I would like to Lodge a Complaint, BUT THIS TIME I had NO Intention of Biting My Tongue. He asked Me What the Complaint was so He could Write up a Official Report. In a Nutshell I SIMPLY I’m a EXTREMELY New Customer, 1st Time Calling Their Customer Service, Some Asshole Customer Service Rep. gave Me a TOTALLY SHITTY ATTITUDE, AND WHY SHOULD HIS SHITTY ATTITUDE BE MY FUCKING PROBLEM, I told Him the Guy had some fucking Nerve and the Bitch Balls to call ME Rude, Threatened to End the Call, Shit talking ABout it Not Being HIS Department, and Being Abandoned on Hold.

He of Course did His Job which was First and Foremost Appologizing for Something HE had NOTHING AT ALL to Do with which Seems Unfair to Me. I mean One Sorry is Sufficient, BUT in these Cases The Helpful Person Apologizes for the Problem Repeatedly Over and Over Again. He then of Course asked Me the Name of the Employee I Felt with, and I told Him that the Guy Mumbled it like a Motherfucker. I then Speculated this was due to the Fact this Guy is a DICK to EVERY CUSTOMER He Deals with so He’s Learned to Mumble His Name in a Feeble Attempt to NOT get Reported for Acting like an Asshole.

Too Bad for the AssFace there are SIMPLE Ways Around the Name Issue that I guess the fucking Fool forgot or more than likely NEVER even Though About. I SIMPLY asked the Question SINCE ALL CALLS ARE RECORDED for QUALITY and Training Purposes combined with the Fact I had just Talked to the Scumfuck Less than 45 Minutes ago couldn’t We find out His Name that Way. And of Course The H&R Guy said Yes thats be NO Problem and Did just that to Finish His Report.

He Apologized Once More and Assured Me the Report was Filed with His Department (H&R), and Wondered if there was Anything Else He could Assist Me with, I said No He’d been MORE than Helpful, and That was That. Problem Properly Addressed, and Solved Without Unnecessary Brutal Drama. I’m calling that a Win.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

The Hallucinatory Hoax: The Placebo Effect Is Real

I have mention once or twice before that after I graduated High School and thought I knew everything about fucking everything. Instead of making the smart decision to go to Collage My buddies (The Arminian and His long time Girlfriend E) and I decided to try our hand at Drug Dealing. Now This was a Time before the Prescription Pill (Xanax, Vicodin, Oxycontin, Valium, and all that Man Mad madness began. Also its’ important to point out We didn’t sell Hardcore Street Drugs so We didn’t deal Heroin, Crack, or Cocaine.

We dealt Marijuana (which is NOT A DRUG but it was Illegal at the Time as California had been to that point the ONLY State that had approved Legal medical Marijuana) LSD in both Blotter & Liquid, Magic Mushrooms, Angel Dust, Ecstasy, a little PCP, and Meth which was a quite few Years away from becoming the National Epidemic it has become today. I mean the first time We decided to sell it (it just called Crystal way back when), and I had no fucking idea what it was. I had done Speed/Crank before, but like I said this was in the very early days of Meth.

One of Our biggest Hits if you will was some Highly Potent Blotter Acid called Black Magic. It was called Black Magic because one side was of course plain white and the reverse side had an insanely intricately detailed swirling tribal like Pattern in Black. This was the Acid that I mentioned in another post that was so goddamn strong we cut the Normal sized Hits in Half and sold the Halves as Wholes without complaint from a single customer.

This was of course a great advantage since we were going to Double our profit Margin. Also it may seem weird to most people but believe it or not most Drug Dealers do have feelings, and care to some degree about Their clients/Clientele. We were very glad We had personally tried The Black Magic (as a Quality Test) before selling a single dose to anyone. If We had for whatever reason sold Regular standard sized Hits of Black Magic We would have been ridden with Guilt and racked with worry at selling such a powerful Hallucinogenic Product to utterly unsuspecting Buyers.

Every Dealer has the same categories of Clients. There are the Regulars who You see frequently and are more social with, and then There are the Big Fish Who Buy in Bulk because they’re not just looking to Party this weekend, but for an entire year of Weekends. Then You have the once an a while acquaintances who buy off You intermittently, and of course You have the Chumps who are the sad sacks who get exploited by Their dealers because They’re ignorant and more over usually obnoxiously Annoying. They’re essentially Narcotic Nerds for lack of a better term.

Our to Chumps being due to a small town were also ironically regulars, but they just so happened to be a grade or so behind us. To keep Our strangle Hold on the High School Sales Market We had a Friend of Ours Cid (like Acid minus the A) who too was a year behind us. We all really adored the shit out of Cid the guy was Sarcastically Absurd and insanely fucking funny.

Cid was also Loyal and would never Narc Us out if the shit hit the Fan. Also He was trustworthy as Hell I mean He’d pretty much have to be right?! I mean We had to intrust Him with Our drugs AND Our Money in good Faith. And for His part Cid never fucked around with Our product, and His cash counts were NEVER even a Nickel Off.

So when We got Our hands on the Black Magic We figured when it came to Our Dipshit Duo We could (if the plan was successful) triple our Money dealing to these Two Tools. Our Plan was very simplistic indeed. We would Sell them One Half Hit of the Black Magic, and a Second Dose that was entirely fucking fake. Since the Chumps hand’t heard about the New Batch of Acid, We would tell Them the fakes were the last of Our previous batch, and that gave us another advantage when it came to our plan. The whole plan was based on the belief that if the Two Turds took BOTH hits They’d never know one was fake.

To make the Fake Hits We cut Open a Letter Envelope the kind with the Safety Design on the inside so You couldn’t hold it up to the Light and see what it was (like say a check for example). To add authenticity We used the Serrated Side of a fucking Butter Knife to create the perforation that so many People were familiar with (Our never came Perforated. It was just one solid Sheet of Blotter Paper), and then applied the slightest mix of Pure Lemon Juice Extract and Table Salt to lend to Authenticity though I have no fucking idea why. None of the Hundreds of Doses of Various Kinds of LSD have never had a taste or residual taste as the case may be.

Once We were done We called Cid who came over and we informed Him of the Plan at Hand when it came to dealing to the Two Twits which He thought was imaginative and Hilarious. And that was that after We told Cid what was up He left with His supplies and said He’d see Us in a couple of Days. A Couple of Days passed on by and true to His word Cid called and said He’d be stopping by Shortly to settle up.

When Cid arrived We ushered Him into the Apartment, handed Him a Beer, and asked what was going on. Cid got a dumb founded look on His face which startled not to mention concerned Us since We assumed the Face was indicative of some shitty issue We would have to deal with. Cid took a minute to comprise Himself before answering. Cid then went on to Tell Us that the Two Twats had taken the Bait hook, Line, and Sinker. Cid then put our minds at ease when He confirmed that Our Marks hadn’t figured out the Scam, but that wasn’t all Cid said.

Apparently Chump One in fact did as we perceived He’d do and took Both Hits (I’m not sure if it was actually at the same time or one after the other in an overlapping situation) and was Obliviously Happy. Here’s where it gets fucking really kind of fucking weird. The Second Chump only took the FAKE hit, but instead of discovering Our scam and getting pissed off He had approached Cid requesting MORE OF THE FAKE ACID.

After racking Our brains in complete confusion as We sat Dumbfounded by what We had just heard, and Cid didn’t fuck around when it came to Business so We knew He wasn’t messing with Us. In the End We had come up with only two possible scenarios that could possibly explain what had in fact happened.

ONE it was the simple BUT EXTREMELY EFFECTIVE Placebo Effect. This means (even though the Acid the Guy took was 100% fucking fake) because He BELIEVED it was real He thought He experienced the Effects of LSD though He had ingested NONE.

TWO was a bit tricker to figure out as a possible explanation. The only other thing that could justify this odd occurrence was that after taking the Hit the Second Chump DID realize it was fake BUT decided not to mention it because He may have been to afraid to do it (and might have been pressured into it by His Friend the Other Chump in question), and was relieved to find out it was Fake. That way He would have avoided any fear he had of doing LSD, and since No one was the wiser He could also get the credit if you will for taking LSD.

Yet to this Day None of Us truly know what the fuck the Second Chump’s true intentions were in this, and chances are We never fucking Will.

Thanks For Reading,

By Les Sober

Waiting by the phone

Everyone is happy. Happy awaiting the dawn of the new decade. And there I am half dead, half alive to the world. Mostly dead. The steady drum beat of hope has fallen by the wayside, taken somewhere by the wind or the incessant diner food calling my name when I just wanted to be left alone.

I slowly think of the joy and their faces, the new beginnings. Then i wake up on the train. I do not feel like I belong in this place, at this time, at this moment. Something feels off in the cosmic spectrum of things. Then flash forward……in the city. The city I love. The energy is more abundant then usual as the sleet ricochets off of my hoodie, down my face, into my core. I am right where I need to be.

As the streets become blurs and carbon copies of one another, I hear people talking but barely hear a sound. I see lights without cars and cars without drivers and people without souls. I feel all that is around me but then I…….nothing………nothing………..nothing

It’s just a long taxi ride. Blurring, dumbfounded, lax.

And off into the land of segmentation. Off into the great divide.

I find myself paying cover charges for drinks I will not have. Looking forth at the faces I will not be sucking. I wonder what exactly it is I am doing here. I am still wondering as I sit on this couch writing this blog. Everyone so horned up and me with my old yet new sense of decency.

It felt out of place. Like I should have been creating a stir or been getting escorted away or have been doing things in shower stalls. Shower stalls???? No mindflash backwards or is that forwards? Not sure. Nothing of want. Too drunk, too drunk, too drunk, too fat, too drunk, wow you’re a whore. All of these stretching for miles.

Time stood still. Exit stage right. Old grizzly bears. Exit stage left. Vast pools of dark chocolate surround me. Exit below ground, hoards of fake IDs. Exit stage me. Alone and cold and wondering where I was. Why am I here again???? Did I lose the memo?? Did they forget to carbon copy me on the last e-mail that was sent out????

I saw the ball drop on the TV. But when I saw you, the ball went up into my chest, up into the pits of my stomach. I would breathe and go back to normalcy. I wished I saw him, whoever it is that he might be.

And you stand off in your corner. You tell me to behave. You tell me to grow up. Then you breathe again and you tell me to stop being so old. To stop trying to race against time. I make a pit stop. You that tell me to change won’t even help me change my oil or wash my windows. I loathe. I mustn’t say too much. They are always watching.

I arrived home. If only I knew where I was at that time. If you only could have been sweeter, as sweet as the hottest apple pie that my grandmother would bake me on a warm spring day and heat even further on those cold spring nights.

It was all smiles. I wish they were real. But I captured their presence. I captured their meanings and their words and as if time stood still I was there again. With you. With the mercy that all can be well. And nothing is truly lost.

By SpaceDog

Behavioral Relapse Wreaks Havoc At Medical Office

Just the other day I had the displeasure of seeing My Secondary Doctor for a routine check in (not up as They already know what the fuck is going on with Me) to make sure Their Machines are running smoothly.

Now YES I do hate the hell out of Doctors thats a WELL Documented Fact, BUT being aware that Doctor’s/Doctor Offices’s are a trigger that will set me off like a fucking bomb means I have to do something about it.

Just being aware of the problem isn’t enough.

I fucking hate People who act like assholes, and then use some Medical/Psychological issue They have simple as an excuse. Having a Medical or Mental condition ISN’T A FREE PASS TO BE A JACKASS.

If You know what the fuck is wrong with You then its on YOU to FIX THE FUCKING PROBLEM or at least TRY to the BEST of Your Ability. Sitting around saying ” Oh its because I have…..” IS A UTTER BULLSHIT.

Anyway back to the Story. We…Oh hold on ok. I say We because I bring My Wife with Me whenever I can as a sort of Good Behavior Insurance Policy though like this time it DOESN’T always work.

So We got to the Office and it chock full of Living Corpses as per usual, YET We didn’t have to wait an exorbitantly long time before getting summoned into the back.

Once there The Tech came in and did Her 5-6 minute system check, everything came back fine and that was that. Of course I couldn’t get the fuck out of a Doctor’s office without someone taking My fucking Vitals. It’s no big deal because its quick and Painless.

THEN the Nurse taking My vitals said that My Doctor’s Nurse Practitioner would be in Shortly. As I sat there a FEW things started to occur to Me. The first was oddly about My Primary (and only other) Doctor, and how He had been a moody fucker the last time I saw Him.

Apparently He was still bent out of shape about what I had said pertaining to Doctors, The Shitty Healthcare System, and How it Financially Rapes Patients while Doctor’s seem utterly fucking oblivious.

Then it dawned on Me why was I still waiting? The Appointment thus far had gone quickly and everything checked out fine so what the fuck?!

See My Primary Doctor has jurisdiction over every aspect of My Health like a Team Coach. The Secondary Doctor was called in as a Pitch Hitter meaning He was there to preform one Job, and when it was done that was essentially it outside of a Post Op and 3 month check ups.

I was curious then at first at what the hell the Nurse Practitioner could do for Me/Do Period. They had My Vitals. The Machinery was Checked and Signed Off On, and since thats all They ACTUALLY CAN DO FOR ME what then was I waiting for.

Patience is a Virtue I was Born WITHOUT.

Around 10 minutes went by and I getting less curious and FAR more irritated. At 15 Minutes I’ve losing self control at an increasing rate. At the 15 minute marker the Nurse Practitioner came bouncing into the Exam Room.

She was one of those fucking Happy, Peppy, Rainbows and Bunnies Cheerleaders of Life Types which is the LAST thing I want to deal with when I already about to go Ape Shit.

Of course the first words out of this Woman mouth is asking How am I doing? I said sarcastically that I’m at a goddamn Doctor’s Office so anyway you look at it its shitty. She then tied to asses the situation as to what I the Patient was getting so wound up by/about.

I tried to reel Myself back in, but I could feel My Rational Thought giving way to Intense Emotion, but I started getting all tripped up (and a tad bit tongue tied) which only served to make shit worse.

Then I simple thought to Myself why am I struggling to stay Sane? Fuck It. Let Go. BE BRUTALLY HONEST no matter what DO NOT HOLD BACK.

And then the Shit Storm hit the Fucked Up Fan.

I hate when People say after these situations “Oh Thats Not Who I AM Anymore, Thats Not Me, I USED to be like that etc” BULLSHIT. Even if You’ve done Your due Diligence and corrected the particular issue You may be having YOUR STILL YOU.

YOUR STILL THE SAME PERSON, YOU JUST CHOOSE NOT TO ACT LIKE AN ASSHOLE.

Anyway I don’t exactly know what happened over the course of the next few minutes as I was busy relishing the chaos I was creating by deliberately CHOOSING to be a Absolute Asshole.

I remember something about yelling at My Wife “See this is what the fuck I’m talking about, this bullshit right fucking here, WHAT THE FUCK is this Shit?!”. Then there was a Barrage of F-Bombs. I was dropping them like I was Invading the fucking Exam Room.

Then things quieted down as I stopped to catch My breath, My Wife Held Her Own, and The Nurse Practitioner was trying to figure what the fuck She had unknowingly just walked into.

The Nurse Practitioner was the first one to break the extremely brief silence by say that if I calmed down and did as asked I wouldn’t have too see the twats for a year or if I didn’t I’d have to see them every 6 Months.”

THAT WAS THE WRONG THING TO SAY RIGHT THEN.

I like everyone else I know DO NOT appreciate being TALKED DOWN TO in a CONDESCENDING MANNER AS IF I’M A FUCKING CHILD or A FUCKING IMBECILE. Doctor’s have developed this as way of dealing with Angry,Nervous, Anxious, Problematic, Combative, Fearful, Depressed by Talking Down to Them like Children.

Let me just take a second to say its even worse for Senior Citizens because EVERYONE talks to the Elderly like the Child Minded Morons. It as if People have come to believe at some age you automatically become a Senile Invalid. There is actually a fucking term for this its called “Elder Speak”, and is an acknowledged and rampant problem within the Healthcare System.

In all do fucking favor The Medical Community is actively eradicating the issue of insulting Elder Speak as its fucking Insulting, Rude, Ignorant, Humiliating, Degrading, Demoralizing, and Dehumanizing.

DON’T TALK TO YOUR ELDERS AS IF THEY ARE CHILD LIKE IDIOTS. REMEMBER THE REALITY OF THE IGNORANCE OF YOUTH. You aren’t Invincible and YOU WILL DIE. Grow the fuck Up.

Anyways again back to the Story. I as you may have imagined I immediately told Her “DON’T fucking talk down to Me like I’m fucking some sort of fucking Idiot who fucking can’t fucking understand a fucking thing, I’M NOT A FUCKING 3 YEAR OLD NOR A FUCKING IDIOT so stop talking to Me like I Am for fuck’s sake.

The Nurse Practitioner retreated then pausing at the door to tell Me to wait a little longer until some other assfuck comes in for some unnecessary shit. I looked at Her and asked if She was Stupid, Insane or Insanely Stupid?! At this point the question isn’t asked in Anger, but more Confusion.

I couldn’t for the fucking life of Me figure out WHY would She even think of asking Me to wait again wasting MORE of My fucking Time when I was already Pissed Off and not afraid to Show It Either.

Smartly before I could spit some more Venom Her way She just closed the fucking door. A moment later the Nurse Practitioner reopened the Door and told Me not to worry about whatever it was She had babbled at Me about.

I stood up instantly while slamming the chair I had been sitting against the wall loudly. I then strode out of the Exam Room in about 2 strides out into the Hall. Due to being Angry Asshole I couldn’t figure out if Left or Right was the way out so I figured fuck it I have a 50/50 chance of being right.

I then realized I went the wrong way but had gotten turned around in the Labyrinth of a Office, and I had no real idea how to reach the exit. A Nurse came around the corner and almost banged into Me eliciting a “FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!”

Luckily for All I heard the Nurse Practitioner loudly informing Me where the door out into the waiting room actually was. I stormed out into the exam room giving My Patented “Say Something I’d Love To Violently Murder The God Living Shit Out Of You” Glare.

I of course have never seen this look and have tried to replicate it staring in mirror glaring at Myself like some sort of asshole. In the end though everyone says its never comes close to the Real Thing.

I truly hope someone at some point has the wherewithal to snap a picture with Their fucking Cell Phone because for Me its like hunting for Bigfoot while simultaneously BEING BIGFOOT.

Now by the time I hit the Exit door to Freedom I heard an Staff Member (Don’t know who/which as My back was to Them) ask bewilderedly where it was I was going. The Response They received as I answered over My shoulder not looking back was “As Far The Fuck Away From You Fucks As Possible.”

Fortunately for Me over the Last Year of Medical Madness managed to NOT act like an asshole for basically 11 Months out of 12 (The issue presented itself in Early January with almost Dying, and was Fully Under Control by Mid December after Second Surgical Procedure.)

BOTTOMLINE: If you have a Health issue be it Mental OR Physical AT LEAST TRY NOT TO LOSE YOUR SHIT ALL THE TIME AND ACT THE ASSHOLE.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

The Gaming Conundrum

Why doesn’t spacedog post as much as he should? The title of this blog basically explains it all.

While I cannot tell you why I am even play certain games that suck it always ends the same. With massive upheavals or drama.

I have a few moments I’m a bit more proud of then others.

My ultimate favorite is i got into one of the top 2 or 3 guilds in a castle invander style mobile game. Things went well at first until I simply asked about the discord. It was during some event and whoever was running the guild was too stupid/lazy to make one. SO I got the boot cuz i disrupt some event. No warning nada.

Then my revenge. It all started with some simple trooling nothing to brag about honestly. People do really hate when you shit on their kids though. Dude sent me a death threat. He got banned.

Then another person was really annoying me. Hardcore. They had a facebook linked account. I will not divulge my methods of madness but this occured in the end. I found a programming flaw in under an hour and got into their game account. Sold everything they owned. Flamed the chat room some after changing their name 10 times with their premium currency.

Honestly i haven’t had that much fun in a chat room since the AOL heyday. People gave out passwords like the oceans gave out salt. Nothing nefarious was done on my part. I had friends get credit card numbers through instant messages.

The best chat room was caller GNN. It probably only lasted for less than a year but it was basically 99 people chat rooms but you had the option to change your handle every 5 minutes.

Oh did we. We’d be ourselves, the elderly and 12 year olds mostly (we were 15 not a huge stretch). The best is when we got some dude to show up at a 7-11 to meet a nonexistent girl. This may have been the longest period of sustained laughter in my life when he showed.

Otherwise the game and chat shenanigans are relatively boring. Calling someone names, getting too drunk, hitting on someone in an unamusing (to them) way.

Right now I think I am having a fight about math. Seriously. Just when i didnt think it could get any nerdier. It really doesn’t matter though the game sucks. I will win either way. If i get kicked i quit and if i legit win my arguement i may actually lose. Conundrum.

It’s like coffee though. You have a bad cup or 2 to get your fix. ALL addiction is the same. I probably did something else ridiculous that i can’t really recall. I can’t think straight.

Time for my sludgy morning joe.

By SpaceDog

Italy is Awesome, BUT Florence Fn Sucks.

For those paying attention to this shit I mentioned that there where Two pertinent points from a recent trip to Italy that I would Post about. I’m not writing a Travel Blog here (not in the fucking least), and I don’t work for fucking National Geographic either so there You go.

In the First Post Tilted “Marijuana: Whats Going On In Italy” was addressing Italy’s stance and legality of Marijuana. For those who didn’t read it by chance in summation: It Sucks plain and simple.

The following Post is the Second Point I’d like to make regarding Italy.

Now I feel it is of utter importance to make it ABUNDANTLY clear that I am in NO WAY talking shit about Italy. So what if Their stance on Marijuana Sucks Their far from alone so can’t fault Them there. Also if ONE City bites the Big One You can’t fault the ENTIRE fucking COUNTRY because of it thats fucking ignorant as a motherfucker.

It is true Italy is full of Cities/Towns that revel in Medieval Majesty in spades and that putting it lightly. One day a Member of Our or Clan wanted to take a Road Trip to Florence because its the Home of Michelangelo’s David among other amazing things to see/do.

We all agreed, loaded up, and got the car caravan rolling down the narrow and winding mountain roads towards the City of Florence Our hopes held high. They just weren’t high enough as it turned out.

For the record the ACTUAL CITY of Florence is Beautiful as well as draped in History. And The City is home to many wonderful Works of Art. It’s only once Your parked, and walking the streets that You begin to see what MAKES spending time in Florence inevitably Suck Serious Ass.

In Florence the Biggest Unwanted Hassles come from Three different Groups of Street Hustlers. I will be listening them in Order from the Lesser of Three Evils to the Worst of the Worst.

And Away We GO…….

The least Offensive of the Three aforementioned Groups are the Homeless looking Pan Handlers/Beggars.

Now Plenty of People in America bitch and whine about how Beggars are a bother being Dirty looking and depressing. Basically these People find Beggars to simply be what They consider a Living Human Eyesore.

All in all though the American Beggars to Their credit remain stationary having posted up in a particular spot, and are quietly subservient showing the shame They feel for being in Their unfortunate situation.

This is NOT the case in Florence. For starters Beggars there roam the streets constantly on the move pacing all over the fucking City. That though isn’t the real problem.

The real problem is Their aggressive in Your face style of asking for spare change. They will walk right up in your personal space and then shove some shitty paper cup in your face. At this point the stare blankly into your eyes and shake the cup jingling the small amount of change at the bottom.

I believe the fact that Florence is full of Visitors from around the Globe the Beggars use the Language Barrier to Their advantage. It affords Them the Luxury of Lingering longer.

The final Tactic They employ is just that Lingering. No matter how many times you tell them No They remain fixed in front of You refusing to accept Your answer.

Also I noticed that like with the Police when You’re dealing with one another one seems to always show up as well. I’m not sure what the second Beggars strategy is exactly, but its one of the following.

Its either They are using Their presence to up the pressure for the Mark to just give up and give them some money just to fuck off out of Their faces.

It could also be that They like attracted to the commotion like a Shark to a Feeding Frenzy, and just shows up out of instinct looking for an easy score. Perhaps its just that They think the primary Beggar has found a generous party, and wants a piece of the generosity.

The only saving grace is Pan Handling is illegal in Florence which is why the Beggars stay on the move to avoid the Police Foot Patrols (as well as every other fucking Cop). This means while Their tactics are bullshit They ironically can’t afford to hang around too long before having to keep moving to avoid arrest.

The Second Group of Hustlers have far more flair to Their Song and Dance Scheme. They are extremely friendly, energetic, outgoing, and quick with a smile. They will approach You introduce Themselves, and instantly strike up a friendly conversation generally over the typical bullshit. They ask where your from, how you like Italy/Florence, whats your home country is like, and so on.

Once the conversation is in full fucking swing They make Their play. Without even mentioning it or bringing an ounce of attention to it They will inadvertently hand You some sort of cheap ticket like a Bumble Machine Bracelet or some other shit, and Then after a bit more lip service They ask You to Pay Them for whatever completely ridiculous trinket They handed You just moments ago.

Thats fucking insane. Thats the equivalent of Me going into a Clothing Store and walking straight up to the counter. Then the Clerk hands Me whatever is laying around in Lost and Found and charges Me for it. It’s nothing I want or need it’s something I wouldn’t let My Kid waste Their money on, but The Store just assumes I’ll to buy it.

Once the Jig is Up like the Beggars these Hustlers throw Their hands up, step away from You, and basically refuse to take it back, BUT through it all They still expect You to Pay Them for it.

You virtually drop whatever cheap piece of shit They handed You on the fucking ground before They will collect Their crap and piss off elsewhere.

The Final Group of Offenders are the absolute fucking WORST OF THE WORST, and that Group would be The Gypsies.

For clarification purposes Gypsies are NOT the Withered Old Crones who place Curses on People in Horror Movies. Nor are the the Magical and Mystical Fortune Tellers like in Disney fucking Cartoons.

I was some what aware that Gypsies had a rather Shady, and rather Shitty reputation in Europe apparently it seemed.

In Europe They are essentially considered Nomadic Con Artists. Gypsies for the most part Travel around the Country Scamming and Cheating the People the encounter along the way.

They are also looked down upon as petty small time Thieves who deal in such things as Games of Chance or Pick Pocketing.

Bottom Line: They are NOT to be trusted EVER.

With that said on with the Story.

In Florence roaming around in the Streets there are in fact authentic Gypsies. They have a rather unconventional and slightly confusing Scam You see.

It’s significant I believe to note at this point that NONE of these Gypsy Street Scam Arist’s are/were Men.

The Scam is as Absurd as it is ridiculous. The Gypsies cake Their faces with some sort of what looks to be lead based face paint. Now there are no other markings like the black eyeliner accents seen with Mimes or Added color like with Clown Aesthetics.

The clothes they dress up in are by far the lamest outfits or lame fucking attempt at a fucking costume.

They dress very plain with Long Simple Skirts that are so long they damn near hide Their feet from view. They sport these White Billowy Shirts, and These matching white hat like headdresses called Mob Caps. So in the end the affect most resembles a 18th century Peasant who worked as a Servant in some Rich Son of a Bitch’s Kitchen as a Scullery Maid.

What They do is the sneak up behind some Poor Bastard when he’s not paying attention (usually do to a plethora a distractions Florence provides) and suddenly grab ahold of His/Her wrist.

They then without saying a single word (which is exactly like a fucking Mime) the start posing with The Mark is cheesy clique poses such as a Hug While Cheek to Cheek, Kissing You on the Cheek, Holding Your Hand while making some bullshit Puppy Love Face or some stupid shit like that.

They also encourage whoever is with The Mark to take a Photo, and then usually then run the same bullshit routine on Them as well.

And unlike the tools that hang around on the streets of Hollywood in Super Hero Costumes, and shit like that who pose for tips these Gypsy fuckers STRAIT UP DEMAND YOU PAY THEM (though You NEVER solicited Them for any sort of bullshit Song and Dance Photo Opportunity)

This is exactly what happen when Our Clan stopped in a Plaza/Town Square, and for one fucking fleeting second I forgot to put My hand back in my pocket. I was keeping My hands in My pockets to guard My Phone as well as Wallet, but also so they specifically couldn’t be grabbed by The Fucked Up Gypsy Scullery Maid motherfuckers.

My initial instinct was FUCK THEM We didn’t ask Them for jack shit so thus We owe them NOTHING. Also I was simultaneously trying to remember the Italian word for Police since I as mentioned just like with the Beggars what the Gypsies are doing is ILLEGAL.

I just figured if I said Police a few times while getting louder each time it scare the scumbags off. If need be though I have no problem with conflict so if They felt Froggy I’d eat Their fucking Legs.

Well My Wife is much nicer so when the short Gypsy Woman squared up to Her (being a demanding piece of fucking shit), and wanted 20 Euros or about $29 U.S. as payment .

My Wife was well aware that when this bullshit Horse and Pony Show started what the hell it was, and were it would inevitably End. Again being FAR NICER than I ever could be She agreed to 20 Euros.

I wasn’t really fucking happy about that, but its not My job to be happy it’s to Back My Wife’s Plays.

What happened next only lead to further complicate the already awkward as fuck situation that was playing out. My Wife went to retrieve the 20 Euros from Her damn near wallet sized travel purse (or whatever the thing is).

At the same time She was keeping watch for any possible Purse Snatchers or other Petty Thieves, and by sheer shitty luck accidentally pulled out a 50 Euro bill (that had been sitting behind the 20 Euro bill) at the same time.

You probably have already deduced what happened next yeah?! The fucking Gypsy Woman after seeing the fucking 50 now is suddenly now demanding 50 Euros. My Wife put her foot down and told the Bitch that They had agreed on 20 Euro so 20 Euros it was.

Of fucking course the despicable Gypsy Woman sticks to Her Guns, BUT at the same time My Wife was Standing Her Ground. Apparently We had a Stand Off on Our Hands so to speak.

The Gypsy Woman starts getting louder and louder until She is damn near Yelling.We had no idea what she was ranting about because none of us

spoke anything close to fluent Italian. I don’t think that mattered in the least as the whole Scam relies on Pressure and Aggression to extort money.

Meanwhile My Wife is aggressively at this point to take the agreed upon 20 and take a fucking hike. I’m just waiting and watching to be ready for whatever the fuck might happen next as things started to escalate quickly.

The fucking Gypsy Woman is trying to literally get in My Wife’s face while My Wife dodges Her, and has now started waving her arms around in the air like some sort of Asshole. She’s also accelerated Her speech to the point She sounded like some fucking Italian Auctioneer in the middle of a bidding frenzy.

The Other People on in the Plaza (about 25-30) had started to take notice and even stopped to observer the building chaos. This turned into BUT keeping a low profile. The Attention of a growing Crowd called direct attention to the Gypsies who didn’t want to get the attention of the Police.

Finally to everyones fucking relief the Gypsy Woman’s Partner in Crime shows up out of no where like a fucking Ninja, and grabs Her friend by the arm. This does virtually nothing to calm the ongoing conflict as Her friend wasn’t about to drop a goddamn thing.

Her Partner in Crime had started to physically pull Her away from Us, and thank god She was the stronger of the two since Her friend kept ranting and raving to beat the fucking band every goddamn step of the fucking way.

At last the pair of Street Hustling Gypsy Scam Artists had vanished down one of the many dark and rather narrow side streets much like Cockroaches running from the Light.

Before I bring this fucker to an end there are a couple of other things about Florence I feel compelled to mention.

One is Florence has been converted into a MASSIVE Tourist Trap. Due to the Fact Florence draws in a lot of Tourists all the fucking prices for any and everything has been jacked sky high to the point its just a fucking rip off.

Also all the Tourist are so thick and heavy in Florence that your damn about shoulder to shoulder walking in the streets. Its like being at fucking Disney during the years largest Promotion just mobbed as a motherfucker.

The last thing is this. There (I suppose again to to the booming Tourist Trade Florence experiences) WAY TOO FUCKING MANY American Stores. I mean I didn’t travel across the fucking Ocean to go fucking shopping at Hugo Boss, Disney Store or eat at Burger King. Actually this was the one and only time We did in fact see a American Fast Food joint as Fast Food is a virtually alien concept.

All in All Italy is AWESOME as all get out, BUT Florence SUCKS A BAG A DICKS.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

The Second Time Isn’t “The Charm”

This is the Tale of My Second Arrest which is exactly the opposite of My First.

My life at that point was utter shit. I was in the grips of of hardcore Drug Addiction. The apartment I was occupying was really quite nice when I moved in, but at this point do to neglect had become a run down hellhole. I spent all my time with my with my asshole neighbor Big Douche desperately scheming and scamming, lying and Cheating, Stealing and Robbing anything for a fucking dollar.

Once we had some cash we’d get drunk as fuck and then go score some crack. Once we smoked up all the crack we went and bought Heroin. This was a endless daily cycle .

In reality I fucking hated Big Douche and would think about killing him in his sleep constantly. He truly was a fucked up fucking asshole of a human being, too fucking damaged to ever be fixed. Big Douche was the definition of a Lost Cause. I’ll digress for now since The Tale of Big Douche will be forthcoming.

So one afternoon we had managed to scrounge up enough cash for a couple of bags of Heroin, and headed out to our usual copping spot.

I’m going to pause here to take a minute to explain exactly where we scored our shit.

I/We lived in a bustling little suburbia that was a short 15 minute drive into the State’s Capital City. Now once a go the Capital City was a rich and prosperous area full of business. Then the businesses left and so did anyone who could fucking afford to. Over the years the City decayed as it hemorrhaged money through failed attempts to improve the City.

A perfect example is the Capital City spent MILLIONS to build a Sports Stadium in the City (rather than on the outskirts) and it was an instant epic failure. See because they built the Stadium IN the city there was INSUFFICIENT PARKING.

This meant Attendees had to park on the street(s) and walk to the Stadium. The only issue with that was NO ONE wanted to walk down said streets especially with their loved ones or kids. The City even tried combating the problem by stationing a Cop on every outlying corner, AND THAT DIDN’T WORK EITHER, but I digress.

We drove through the filthy trash littered streets lined with old decrepit old houses rotting away through the years.

On any given day We’d see the wandering Hookers, Homeless Begging Bums, Gang Bangers, Pimps, Junkies, Poverty, Stray Cats and Dogs, Crackheads, Drug Dealers, and other of life’s rejected throw aways lurking and loitering on the corners or walking between/among them.

On this particular day the streets were completely vacant there wasn’t a single soul in sight. We drove around several different blocks, but it was all the same the streets were all utterly empty.

I had a bad feeling. A Gut Feeling and not a good one.

The only reason that the usual degenerates wouldn’t be out pounding the streets (committing various dastardly deeds) was a simple one. Just two simple words: Police Activity.

The Police were the preverbal Lights that when flipped on sends the Rats and Roaches scrambling for cover of any kind.

I told Big Douche that we should bail and come back later because obviously something was going on that was making the Natives Restless if you will. Now Big Douche living up to his name continued to relentlessly circle block after block searching for anyone who might be a Dope Dealer. He was franticly obsessed the way Junkies do when their fiending for a fix.

At last right as Big Douche finally was giving up we drove up on a Bodega and a Large (and rather fat) Guy strode out the door. Big Douche being a Junkie immediately decides this is a person is a drug dealer and signals him as it were.

The Guy signals back. I’m pissed as pissed can get because I couldn’t believe we hadn’t bounced yet, and that Big Douche was being a complete cunt. In some bizarre passive aggressive bullshit I deliberately didn’t look at, talk to or even acknowledged The Guy.

The Guy reaches through the drivers side window and does the exchange. Instead of driving off like a good little junkie Big Douche stops to look at the couple bags of Dope, and notices (again being a good little junkie) that the Heroin looks funny. It looks fake. Fake as a motherfucker.

Big Douche leans over and calls the Guy out stating that the Guy’s dope looks beat as shit. The Guy denies it and keeps trying to brush us off. Big Douche then decides he wants his money back (Yeah thats right he wanted the Drug Dealer to refund his money for selling him fake Heroin) and opens the Driver’s door and stood between the car and the car door arguing with the Guy.

Eventually like a junkie Big Douche stops arguing and starts begging like a big ass bitch. The Guy doesn’t want to hear a single fucking word about it. Big Douche at last accepts defeat and we start to pull away from the curb.

That’s when I saw it, thats when I knew we were fucked. What I saw was the Guy raising his arm to wave in the Cops who were hiding around the way in. The next thing we knew the Cops had 3 cars pinning us in as other Cops ran up to the car yelling like a bunch a savage assholes.

We get out of the car, handcuffed, and then driven around the corner so the Cops entrapment spot wouldn’t get blown up. They transferred us into additional Cop cars and took us to the Police Station.

Once we got there Big Douche was booked, Processed, and sent to County Jail on a slew of yet undressed charges.

I was a bit luckier since I did;t have any outstanding legal issues I was booked and then released on my own recognizance. I was also given a court date the following day.

Needless to say I didn’t sleep that night. I unplugged the phone because Big Douche keep calling asking for me to help contact people to come bail him out. I could have cared less as I was worried about being locked up the very next day.

Unlike my first arrest there was no time in-between my arrest and my trial. It happened so fast I’m really not sure if I even had a court appointed Lawyer (I don’t remember talking or meeting with one at all). I went to my court date, and I remember sitting alone in the court room as the Judge worked his way down the days docket. He finally gets to me and I remember I stood up and remained standing in the same spot.

I remember this Judge some old nasty bastard who lectured me for what seemed like fucking hours about how Drug Addicts are coming into the City to score their drugs which in turn is destroying the City itself.

BULL-FUCKING-SHIT.

First there THOUSANDS of drug addicts in the Judge’s fantastical City. And the only reason Drug Addicts were coming to his City was due to the fact THATS WHERE THE FUCKING DRUG DEALERS ARE. Also as I mentioned earlier the “Fine City” the Judge spoke of was and still is a Growing, Thriving, and Worsening SHITHOLE.

Once the cranky old cocksucker of a Judge wraps up his bullshit tirade he sentenced me to 90 Days Suspended Sentence. The first time I was arrested I got 3 years Probation with a ton of added conditions (all of which I violated like a motherfucker).

This time I simply had to stay out of trouble (aka Get Arrested Again) for 90 days then I’d be off the legal hook, and the arrest would be expunged from my Police Record.

Luckily I managed not to get arrested again (in those 90 days and ever again) though I continued to spend my days living the life of a junkie which by definition requires breaking laws left and right.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober