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I keep forgetting this site's here. Maybe if it'd stop going down...
Surprisingly I've received a few emails asking about my unfinished writing project Machine Prophecy over the past few months. I honestly didn't think anyone read it, much less cared that the site was(is) down. While my computer was dead I didn't have much to do while at home so I restarted it. Lots of ideas, lots of momentum and lots of free time enabled me to map most of it out and get some drafts of a few scenes done. Unfortunately I now have none of those three things. Maybe I'll continue it when I have some free time at work.
Speaking of free time, for those of you who play World of Warcraft and aren't terrible at it, we will be starting a new guild called Textual Predators when the expansion comes out. I don't think we've decided on a server yet but it will most likely be Dethecus. Let me know if you're interested but please don't suck.
See you next year.
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And now for some reason the board is working. I didn't change anything; just hit the switch and it fired up. Oh well.
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The motherboard I ordered appears to have been DOA. I said a long time ago I'd never buy another Asus product. Maybe I should tattoo that on my arm like the guy in Memento.
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I haven't updated in a while because my computer was down. I switch between my headset and speakers all the time but when I did it two weeks ago the motherboard decided it'd had enough of my indecisive bullshit and fried itself. Now I'm using my grandmother's laptop that she bought from Office Depot for $300 because her friend had one. My new motherboard should be getting here tomorrow.
Right now I'm thinking my uncle needs to die soon but slowly for ruining my Sunday. That task is reserved for my father, asshole.
I had my day all planned out:
Sleep 'til noon - check
Sit around hurling racist insults at my brown friend Nate until he stops paying attention - check
Troll forums and berate people who use trolling synonymously with browsing - check
Wash my cars - aborted
Grill chicken - nope
Eat chicken - :(
Make Nate pay me for chicken because I know he is genetically susceptible to being unable to resist it - damn
Right between the third and fourth scheduled items my grandmother asked me to go with her to help move all her brother's shit. I just figured he was getting rid of some stuff, but when we got there and he starting whining about how he's just going to take some clothes and leave the rest "for the vultures." I assumed his wife was kicking him out. My grandmother wouldn't let him do that because he had some shit she wanted to keep, like an old dresser and some tools that have both been in the family for a hundred years. And a chainsaw and some disposable toothbrushes. I dunno.
When we pulled up his wife's kids (of whom none are kids; they're all in their 30s because his wife's an old woman) were having a yard sale (an event in which you con people into paying you to haul off your trash for you). They had a truck with a long trailer sitting in the driveway that they claimed wouldn't start so we had to park in the street. The driveway is an incline that is highest at the road and the door that we have to bring the dresser and other shit out of is at the back of the house.
My uncle didn't even have anything packed because he wanted to leave everything, so my grandmother got some trash bags and just started throwing shit in them, and I had to carry them to my uncle's Jeep that was parked even further away than we were. It was hot and humid, and I wasn't tired yet but I was sweating buckets. The three running the trash stand in the front yard had a cooler full of drinks. One of them got up and came over to me as I was waiting for my grandmother and uncle to pack more shit up so I could haul it off. "Want a sugar cookie?" asked the asshole. I felt like decking him. I wish I had.
After they cleared enough out to get to the dresser (which had a big mirror that they couldn't take off because the screws were stripping) I moved the thing out of the house. My uncle at this point had already taken off because he's worthless and no one else felt like helping me move the thing up the driveway because it looked like work. Because of the mirror I couldn't use a dolly. It was too big around for me to pick up and carry (and it's fucking heavy). It had wheels but the driveway looked like a cement truck just dumped its load on the front lawn and no one bothered to smooth it out, so rolling the thing didn't work out too well. So I picked my end up and tugged the thing up the driveway with my grandmother, with her bad back and blood clot, lifting up her side over all the cracks and mounds and deathtraps in the driveway, up the incline, to the road, to the truck where I had a fun time loading it with the large, flimsy mirror still attached. "Oh, that poor woman shouldn't be doing that lifting," I heard someone say from a lounge chair in the shade of a tree.
After that there was a smaller dresser and a large chest. I carried them each up on my shoulders. I couldn't see where I was going so I was hoping one of the bastards would be standing in my way and I'd get to knock them on their ass with furniture. "Boy, that looks heavy," someone said. I felt that, if I really tried, from where I was standing I could have tossed the dresser and nailed at least two of them. Hitting all three of them would've required lifting the thing over my head and keeping it balanced as I turned it sideways, and I'd probably have to get a running start that way. I would've been satisfied with two.
It wasn't until we were coming home from the second trip out there that I found out why I had to spend my day moving heavy things. The aforementioned trio of twats wanted their hag of a mother to rent out the room my uncle was using to store his things to some woman and her teenage daughter. This room is smaller than my bathroom and they want to rent it out to two people. So they told my uncle to get all his stuff out of there and apparently his wife is cool with that. So he got pissed about that and the fact that he'd have to come home from work every day to people he doesn't even know sitting in his chair, watching his ginormous tv and eating all his groceries, and decided to take off.
Oh well. I got an old toolbox full of old tools and a chainsaw out of it. And some disposable toothbrushes.
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craigsucks at gmail dot com