Whelp, we got a new horriday coming up.....

Easter. We have a pagan tradition. On Palm Sunday, you make an Easter tree. And if you do it right.... on Easter Sunday, the willows will throw out green leaves. I KNOW that this is pagan, because someone from the CARITAS came over to see Peter, and said so, and wanted to see his 'Dead Man on a Stick', as Annti would say. This year, the Easter Tree is paltry. But a bit of horriday for Peter. He likes tradition. Most of my stuff for this 'disappeared'. Or got 'disappeared'. Curses.



But the world keeps renewing itself.




And even the Beeches in Buchenweg 'came out.' Pretty.

Rudy Doody was at it again....

'W'erner wanted me to take his stuff down to be transported. And I said, I don't think that is a good idear, because the rats and whores in the next building will stop it, and I get a caveat, and he has nowhere to stay.

After yesterday, I would believe 'anything'... Am just minor league, not major...

Profis in intrigue...

Have been up since last nite, and very worried.

It is too long a story.

I hate drama queens....

Although I can be one if the occasion warrents...

My nefarious plan, part two

I wouldn't be RenB if things would go easily. Really.

Tomorrow was supposed to be the day I can finally see an end to getting the couch critter into Peter's old place and throw a monkey wrench into the works. But it has to be certified by a notary public, and HE has been ill and only gets to see him on Thursday.

But W. has to be out of the house tomorrow. I spent the morning washing Peter's floors, trying to free the drain that in his NEW shower, cooking, and then coming home wanting to crash.

But got requisitioned to go over to the Couch Critter's place and help him pack up the rest of W's stuff. I never knew you could get so much stuff into twelve square meters and have it look tidy....

Maybe I should have spent some time in the French Foreign Legion....

What with all the activity the past few days, my back is acting up. A long story.

So, how are we looking here?

To top it off, W had a death in the family, someone he hated. His sister's husband. Whom he hated. The guy cheated on her. He is really, really angry, but he won't call his sister. Seemingly his brother-in-law was a real rat.

I talked and talked and talked.... carefully.

He just took off to have a corfee on the square and digest.

As hard as it is, he can't forgive and make that one call....

A death in the family is always tragic, especially if you were not good with the newly departed, or estranged, or let others put a wedge between you and whom you hold dear.

For me, it is like looking into a mirror of something similar, something I regret.

No one should have to carry that poison in their heart. No one.

This has all been happening as I wrote, so not so coherent.

I WANT Maria M. to regret everything she everything she did to Peter. I WANT to inflict pain that she doesn't get to rule over the appartment as she thought she would. I WANT my couch critter to have a roof over his head and not have him under foot all the time. As nice as he is.

I want silence in my house.

Am so sick of hearing Brian Ferry....

But I am not such an easy person to be with either.....

And on the whole, it wasn't so bad. If you are confined to a small space, you develop little jokes. He loves to make a mish-mash of red beans onions, and a bit of meat. And then he gets gas. And I will either say, 'Did you just call me?' Or worse, 'How often have I told you not to misuse my name???' Cracks him up.

It is finally Spring. The birds outside are chattering away, doing their mating thing.

Sounds pretty.

And OH GAWWD! La Puppe came looking for Werner in my appartment. Good thing he was out for corfee. La Puppe is my landlady. Diabetic Peter next to where he was housing, not living, saw me helping W. pack to move out. She gave me the third degree, where was he going, what was he planning, and so on and so forth.

And I said, 'I don't know him that well', and that I had helped him with his computer over the summer, and he was so nice to help me move Peter, so I helped pack his things to move out.

Where was he going, she asked. 'No idea...'

'Do you feel ok here?'

'Yes... I feel fine...'

'Can I come in?'

'Yes...'

Man, that was a trip and a half....

And then she warned me against Werner. 'He seems so nice at first, but he was in the French Foreign Legion.' He can seem so nice but is a horrible person.

'I know that... Thank you...'

BE CAREFUL....

Whoaaa, as we say...

WTF is going on with the rats and whores in my building who can make me go nuclear?

Werner is an integre, fully honest person. If you spend four weeks with a person in close contact, in a tiny bed-sitter, you KNOW if that person is ok or not. He has had my keys to the apt for weeks, and nothing has EVER been touched among my personal belongings. Yes, it was an act of trust, and could have been stupid.

But you have to have trust in people.

Some people, anyway....

And I so want him to get his own place so that I can finally have one night of silence, and not have to worry about anyone.

But to paint Werner as the Satan of the Block.... hey..... We have talked about God and the World, and what hurt us, and where we got to where we are, and so on and so forth. He has never been 'afraid' I would go after him.

And that is good so. It is like having a brother again.

And if I can effect a hex on the lady of the Mühlgasse, so much the better.

Y'know what????...

Sometimes you run across someone interesting.

And noooo, it isn't someone from the foreign legion this time.

It was from a nice scared newbie who ventured onto Annti's blog and being new to it all, asked questions. And despite the tone sometimes on Mark of the Beast, we all were kind, and explained what she wanted to know.

Yesterday she asked Annti if she would blog-roll her, meaning putting her link into the right side of her tool bar on the front page. And gave the URL, so I hopped over there, and took a look.

In her self-description, she is a devoted Christian, and I thought.... uh-oh.... But then I read her post on attending a wedding. And a few others. And was surprised.

Y'KNOW.... over the past eight years the radical right has taken over the so-called 'Christian Movement', and changed it to hate. And the word 'Christian' nearly became a swear word of the highest order.

The bigots painted in the worst colors.

And we forgot. A lot of us just forgot.

What I found was a thoughtful young lady with a good sense of humour, and an excellent way of expressing herself. She has her own voice. I wish she wouldn't put herself down.

If her religious beliefs are honest, and she is very tolerant, that makes us the bigots for pushing away when we hear the C word. Surely, we get beat up all the time from people who CALL themselves Christians. So it becomes like Pavlov and the dog, and is no excuse, but you get to the point where you do not know whom to trust.

So I wish you all would take a look at this blog. It is worth the time.

http://unidiversalsusanisgoofy.blogspot.com/

And best of all.... she can make me smile. Sadly, but smile all the same.

It rained lightly... And overnight Spring sprang....

oooh, forsythia.....

Rolled Peter back to the Mühlgasse to pick up some forgotten things..... It took me over fourty minutes. The couch critter can do it in twenty.

I am getting fucking old.

Moving day 2

We are making progress.... That is the ramp to the door of Peter's new house. So far... ran into an older woman whose daughter was taking her out to shop for the weekend. Next door, after the orange part, are several severely handicapped people who got picked up and taken for a weekend thing... And a lovely African woman who was surprised because I greeted her in a friendly manner.... No one greets her, and I was not surprised. The large building next to this is a totally other story. More like what my friend Annti calls Hotel de Fucktards. Kinda skeery.....


After his first night, Peter was a bit uncertain about his new surroundings. We were still unpacking, and getting things in order. He told me last night that there is a man across the way wearing a wife-beater, with a huge belly, and checks out his building with binoculars. Earlier in the day I had said, the view from this room looks like 'Rear Window' from Hitchcock. So I said, 'watch out, it's Raymond Burr and he is up to no good!' We laughed.

And this is the couch critter taking a well-deserved corfee break. Without his help, I would still be Flipper. Dorle was postitvely ok with her take on him. Maria M got skeered. 'I don't think it would be good eating cherries with him'... which is dialect for.... 'This guy is hostile.' Yup. But he would never do anything violent to her. I am so glad she is skeered..... And just to get this straight... he IS straight. Fully straight. Yesterday I thought he was just loading the washing machine, and walked into the bathroom, and he was nekkid, because he put in what he had been wearing into the machine. Embarrassing, much? I was mortified, and excused myself. But not before seeing that he has a very attractive hairless butt. But enough.... And no, am not attracted to him in any way whatsoever. Although I am very glad I have been able to help so far. And that is it. Really not my type.

Peter has finally been moved....

What a morning..... I would have been lost without the couch critter. Honestly. Spent a mess of time unpacking things, cartons all over the place, hey... It was a grey day, but as you see, the new place is bright and cheery, and the doors slide back, and no thresholds..... Peter needed a bottle of bubbly to calm down.



Our friend Dorle came by and was a wonderful help to me as well. Especially since I was steamed that it was the Bosnian Serbs who carted over his tee-vee and stuff that the movers didn't dare to touch. And left me stranded on a square when I went to buy an extension cable, and had to hoof it over to the new place a half hour's swift walk away. I was steamed.



But as you can see... nothing got damaged..... Everything is still in a clutter, however....







But his couch-bed is more or less ready. I couldn't find the sheets however. WTF?








The bath doesn't photograph well, but that is the wc, all right...







And was so stooopid, and distracted, I forgot to take an outside shot with the ramp up to the door. Will correct that soon. And no, the couch critter is not in these photos either. Sorry. It was too hectic.

This is nice news...

Go take a look at this ABC video that Pam Spaulding put up. It is encouraging.

http://www.pamshouseblend.com/showDiary.do?diaryId=10084

Flipper.... I'm Flipper.....

If I got really freaked about something? My colleagues started singing the Flipper signation.

It was never meant meanly, and I did it so seldom.... They thought it was 'cute'.

What they didn't know....

If I go into Flipper mode, just get out of my fucking way, because I am DEADLY serious.

It means I'm full of rage, and would mow down anyone who gets in my way.

It happens probably once in a decade. But then, watch it, whoever you are... I go deadly and verbally for the jugular.

I only do it once in a decade. Usually.

Today was the day, my friends. I sharpened my already acidic tongue, and called the gas company. And threw flames. Verbally.

I should be doing three dozen things over at the Mühlgasse, and waited in vain for some asshole to read my meters yet again. These people need to get their act together.

And the usually quiet RenB shouted.

Please don't faint.

Yes, he shouted over the phone, and was totally fucking rude. He went totally Howard Beale all OVER those idjits.

A half-hour later.... the meter reader was here.

Lesson? Sometimes you have to shout to get some attention when stupid people want to just play you for a fool.

I hate shouting.

But sometimes you have to.

Fuck these people five times over.

Hokay... now I am SERIOUSLY pissed off....

The meter reader is still not here. Good, am hard to find, but they found me anyway over the past years.

One time missing the date. ... hokay.

Messing up the second one, WTF are they DOING?

Third time, and it looks that way....

I'm gonna go nuclear.

This 'person' has fifteen minutes to get in and out of my fucking house, or I am going to file a complaint.

Against my 'incompetent' energy partner!

Oh yes...

I cut my couch critters' hair. Right down to one mm as he wanted it. That was weird..... He likes a bald dome.

I was afraid I would hurt him, but it was ok. My 'machine' isn't the best, hey.

And four more minutes, and I am going to go off the charts for nuclear with those people.

To be continued....

Moving sucks

Spent all morning packing kitchen things.

Tomorrow.... I have to deal with Bosnian Serbs who will take what the fucking social service people refused to pack, and have it transported over to Buchenweg. (Beech street.) And then we can take months to get things in order.

Peter keeps going ON and On... 'You're sending me to Buchenwald'. Right. And am gonna send Dr. Mengele to visit him next. And the street before that is named Birkenweg. Birch Street. So that must be Birkenwald???? Both infamous concentration camps. I never knew they were so close to one another....

It is the pits. Just the pits....

The BS's think they are finally on target, but I hope to have a real surprise for them. Am so wanting to goose Karma and make it happen. This weekend is gonna be SO much fun. My couch critter has to get out of his mansard apt. and will put his stuff over at Peter's. And if I am correct on this.... Peter has the right to the apt till he dies. If he lets someone else use it if he is not there, he still has the right. Tuesday we get to find out if that is possible.

And my couch critter finally gets his own four walls with a roof over his head, and can do what he pleases, and the Bosnians will tear their partly non-existant hair and wail and lament.

And I get a few hours in the day where I don't have to be restrained. That would be my idea of heaven at the moment. Just not to be in the presence of anyone and enjoy stillness.

Not that the couch critter isn't 'rücksichtsvoll'. (considerate... it took me a while to find the word again in my head... so few people are.) He is. Very.

But I want my private space back. I want my silence in my house.

Silence is very underrated....

Horriday update

It was worse than I thought. I had to stay and wait for the meter reader, so I asked my couch critter to go over and oversee things till I could get out of my little prison.

At 07:33 I got an sos call from Peter. The people social services hired to move his stuff were so awful. And called him filthy, and verkakt. (shitted) He was crying. They were pissed because the stuff wasn't packed 'properly'. And I couldn't leave the house, waiting for the assholes from the gas people. Otherwise I get a fine, and not a small one and not one I can afford.

So that is how you treat a freshly minted seventy year old man if you are with social services? Well FUCK THEM! I wanted to go over there and rip them a new one.

They refused to transport his expensive tee-vee, radio and cd player. Refused! Because they are not insured if anything should break....

So.... I went to the crapper and thought 'what now?'

Called back and said, 'Stay where you are. You aren't taking the bed, the kitchen isn't finished being packed, and they aren't gonna connect your telephone till Friday, so we can think of how to get all that down there by then.'

The phone kept ringing off the hook. (The phone NEVER rings here, and it was unnerving....) First Peter, then the couch critter (and thanks for that, Terrible...). And back and forth and drove me to distraction and back.

One thing after the other, and I was still waiting for the meter-reader. They were supposed to be here at nine. At nine-thirty, I called them, asking where the hell he was. Got a recording. 'Your COMPETENT energy partner'. Uh-huh. (thinking, if you are so fucking competent, why didn't you arrive on St. Patrick's Day, as advised?)

Then I got a live person on the line. Asked what was up, but had a tinge to the voice that let her know I was fucking pissed off. And after her typing wildly on her keyboard, she said, 'Oh, you're slated for March 26th between 13:30 and 14:30...'

I said, 'That is not what I was told. TODAY, at nine a.m!'

'Who told you that????'

'The lady on customer service who messed up my stuff on March 17th! And I think you should change your tape to 'incompetent'.'

(Yes, polite RenB was steamed.....)

So here we go again, hey.....

A modest question. WHY the fuck can't anyone just plan something logical that will work?

And why would social services hire people who vilify old men? I am so ripped, I could punch someone out. I don't have big fists, but I can do some damage, at least.

And why does everything have to have so many obstacles in the way, and other people just sail through them?

I don't get it.

And when I see Elke Kahr on the square.... SHE is so gonna get an earful!

Subtle, but very funny....

Portia de rossi apologises for getting married. It was my morning lol.

Another kind of horriday.... moving day...

Yesterday, Peter turned seventy. The one day a year he gets cake. Made a soup, and shrimp risotto. But was mostly busy packing for him.

Today he gets moved into a handicapped appartment. It's taken two years to get it all done, and am glad, because I can get him in and out of the house by myself. I just couldn't do that heavy lifting over the ten stairs by myself any more where he is now.

After over fifteen years in the Mühlgasse it has been hard on him emotionally. And will mean my getting a monthly bus pass in order to get there and back on a daily basis, as it is quite a way across town, but better than all that lifting....

Our GP was reluctant about doing his weekly house call, 'because it is so far', but that seems odd, as the guy has a car. I think he wants Peter in hospital because of his foot, and Peter is refusing. And the good doctor will probably refuse to treat him if he doesn't go....

Whatever, today is moving day, and that is always a horror for me.... And he will piss and moan.... right.

This article is sort of fun.....

but then I have always loved vampire stories. Interesting look at history as well.

Yesterday seems to have been a fata morgana....

I slept over night.... seldom for me.... and this morning? Poof, the snow was gone. The guy in the orange jacket from Africa on the corner sells magazines about the problems immigrants have. It is the only job that the government will allow him to do and he is about my age if not older. He is always friendly, and really doesn't have it easy, although I do not know his personal story.

But every time I pass by there, I get angry.

How in fuck can you as a country take in immigrants, and deny them the right to work? Just to look good internationally?

Oh no, they don't starve, or anything, and have a roof over their heads. But the restrictions set on them are humiliating. For them, and for us if we have a grain of sense.

And then I get so fucking angry with my government, I boil inside.

Racism comes in so many forms, and it isn't restricted to the Africans here. It comes in so many flavours you could open up an ice cream parlour.

And that was my so-called 'Deep Thought of the Day'.... as Atrios would say......

You go by, register what is going on, and your inner organs begin to retract, and you clench your teeth, and just keep going.

I just can't stand seeing people being treated like that.

I TOLD Peter yesterday that this is what the Pope really meant....

When did they invade the condom making factories? Thanks to Joe.My.God for my laugh of the day.

Today is the beginning of Spring.... What IS this shit?

I get so bloody grouchy when the crocuses are just coming up and then we can get this stuff, although we haven't had snow this late in a very long time. And being a freshly minted pensioner, I go about grinch-like, muttering, 'I didn't come four thousand miles for THIS.' Oh yes, the housepe(s)t turned up again. He is in the photo on the left in the leather jacket. Just call me Lucky Luke.

Update on Fritzl.... I was correct... unfortunately...

He was sentenced to life. Which means 2o years, and he is 79. But in a prison for the psychologically disturbed. I am so not ok with that. Normally I am not for the death penalty, but in a case like that.... I'd say 'oh yes, and very slowly and painfully.'

This was on German tee-vee last night at 3 a.m.

And I thought tastelessness couldn't get any lower. They didn't do this with Clinton as far as I know.... Despite Monica, cigars, and the blue dress.

This is head-shakingly, so not wanting to believe it, bad. And NSFW.

And I thought Peter was getting Alzheimer's when he told me about it....