Angela’s Adventures

Idle Hands Part Deux

Wed, 19 Mar 2008 17:45:03 -0700

I know that many of you are waiting on baited breathe for the next installment of Idle Hands. The husband is at it again and in full force. If he doesn’t get a job soon, the world as we know it might crumble into complete and total disarray. A few weeks ago, I decided to hook the idle husband up with a new cell phone. He has spent so much time tinkering around on the sailboat that I barely see him. The phone was the only way for me to find him. Little did I know what I had unleashed. Within the first few days, that phone had beeped incessantly and he had received somewhere in the neighborhood of 70 text messages, phone calls and random junk. We at that point knew the following about the previous owner of the phone:

Black or African American for all you pc lovers out there. This guy crafts ebonics like a ghetto fabulous Nathaniel Hawthorne.
Male or raging lesbian due to the mass amount of pornography flooding the account. We can’t even figure out how someone would have time to view all this smut in one day.
In serious debt, due to the number of Washington Mutual emails informing this guy of the fact that he’s overdrawn and his credit score stinks. No wonder, all that porn gets expensive.
He’s a sagittarius and enjoys tarot card readings from Miss Cleo and the like. We know this because his daily horoscopes come flying over the waves from various astrologically enlightened locations.
He loves Jack Daniels, since this liquor is a part of his screen name.
His relationship with his baby’s momma is on the rocks. This proven by the communications going back and forth between them.

After a few weeks, there was much complaining going on regarding the random onslaught of garbage. The husband called Verizon to get a credit for the technical torture he was having to endure, as a result of getting this poor sucker’s phone. After opening and reading around 400 text messages etc. a pattern started to emerge. That pattern was the fact that these weren’t just text messages but instead email messages from the guy’s hotmail account. The messages were being rerouted through Verizon. Eureka! That sneak husband now has an idea.

“What if I go into this guy’s account and tell them I forgot the password to his hotmail account.”
“Maybe they’ll send me a new password to the phone.”
“Then I can go in and change the password to whatever I want.”

Well as I am sure you already know...this worked and the husband has now commandeered Mr. Porno’s hotmail account. The result of his foraging through this hotmail account is evident in the collage included on the blog page. Such treasured moments! I told ya he likes Chuck E. Cheese. We have also read through his masterpiece library of emails. So here in all it’s glory is a tidbit of the type of messages our poor protagonist shares back and forth with his baby’s momma. If you can make any sense of this, then please feel free to send me a comment, because I can’t make heads or tails of it. I’ve added symbols to the onslaught of expletives to protect the not so innocent, other than that I left it completely intact for historical accuracy.

Keeping yourself in the other room then.I ain't trippin.I show repect for the other guy.Since you two can't show me none.You alway show out.F%^$ THAT NIGGA.That the only comes to your mind.I'm alway doing something from day one.So you get shi*t all up up in your head for you to go out and do sh*t.I told you this ain't no one way street.I don't have to do anything.You see i haven't said shi*.Do what the F%$# WHAT YOU GOING TO DO.Don't you sit there and believe your own lies and expect me to believe them.2008 that sh*t ain't going to happen to me again.You want to be up in another nigga house take n pictures and you know what else happen.Go right ahead.Like i said old habbits are very hard to break.Enjoy your party life,tia (This is idiot 1’s name btw) life cause that what it is all about.F%#@ EVERYONE ELSE,ITS TIA WORLD.There no space for anyone,ANYONE ELSE.

From: idiot1@live.com
To: idiot2@msn.com
Subject: Re: Test
Date: Sat, 15 Mar 2008 07:24:41 -0700

You the one tripping off me.I don't trip like I use to. Don't put my family in this. They don't have nothing to do what we going thru. So stop putting them in our business. Don't use them. I don't use your family in our business. I guess you say if she can I can too. That's not true. I don't have to cover over my family. That the PAST TENSE. You the one find things to get MAD about. You the one don't want to be bother with me when ,"I" make you ,"MAD" at me. I give you,your space to,"COOL",down. When I,"PISS", you off you sleep on the couch. SO I show you I can sleep by myself without in the other room. If you don't have nothing to do with me,"WHY", should I sleep in the room?
From: idiot2@msn.com
Sent: Thursday, March 13, 2008 10:36 PM
To: idiot1@live.com
Subject: RE: Test

You know,you so full of it.Always out sneeking around behind my back.Thats ok.What goes around comes back around.Like i said it won't be me that does it to you.Run away thats what you want to do.You don't give a sh*t about nobody but yourself.I hope you had fun getting all the special attention you wanted by your friends.They want you you.They can have you.Just leave all of us alone.Me and your brother and kids ain't nothing but problems to you.Log off next time you decide to walk out.I seen enought pictures.

From: idiot1@live.com
To: idiot2@msn.com
Subject: Test
Date: Sat, 1 Mar 2008 15:29:44 -0800

If you think I'd b tell your brother about our problems I don't. I know you don't,"BELIEVE,"me anyway. You can believe what you want about me. Me having fun,by myself . You always think it have to be another nigga' but is not like that at all. I party by myself or with my cousin. The past have affected on you.or I should say us. Is not know,"TRUST" at the get go.U get mad at me all the time but is o.k. I deal with it. I'm not going to stress myself about what you think I was doing last nite. I can't change your mind about anything b-cuz you got your mind made up. How my cake and eat it 2. "NEVER". Put if you going to do sumthing do it b-cuz I no you had back in the,"PAST". You can not say you,"HAVEN'T. U like to pay me back anyway. B-cuz you always do I just anit find out about it b-cuz is a,"BIG SECRET". Is to the,"GOOD". I still have,"LOVE", for you if we don't make it this year. And this year just started. Now,"LOOK". We where we started at . The,"PAST". God bless you whatever you do. No,HEART FEELING". I still,"LOVE YOU. Thank You. Idiot2

Now let me just comment, there was more use of the “N” word in this email than at a clan rally. Second of all, if this was my life I’d get rid of my phone too. Perhaps that way I could rid myself of the people, pornographers, and banks incessantly calling and texting me. The idle hands are currently debating their next move on the chess board of this guy’s life. Keep in mind, we also have idiot 1, the baby momma’s myspace page, email addy and all of this guy’s friends. We also have info on the ho’s he’s cheating on his baby’s momma with. Perhaps we should open this up for discussion. For suggestions, comments and ideas of what fun we can have with the above mentioned account, please be sure to leave a comment. If you think the husband is the axis of evil, leave that in the form of a comment too. He may be idle but he’s always funny......

Everyday Miracles

Sun, 16 Mar 2008 09:34:48 -0700

So I guess that most of you are expecting some rambling diatribe about how everyone should believe in everyday miracles and that you should blindly go out and believe them too. Well maybe... but why not?? All of the cool kids or maybe the not-so-cool from a secular level are doing it. Unfortunately, something that should be easy and accessible to everyone has become convoluted, corrupt, and labyrinthine. Why can’t science and religion shake hands and just be friends? I saw just how complicated things really are when I viewed the video below sent to me by a friend this past week.

My response to this is no wonder or more precisely no wonderment. Our society has lost it’s fascination with the everyday miracle and instead have attached a price tag to enlightenment. This is hardly a new concept. Perhaps we need a new Reformation with a modern day Luther. It wouldn’t work without bloodshed though, since freedom of religion is becoming a fleeting animal. I am not for a blatant union between church and state like the moral majority. The problem for me is that our modern day Luther would have nowhere they could legally tack their theses without offending someone. And we all have a right in this country to never be offended. I think it’s in that secret Constitution we are running off of these days. Our churches peddle truths with a price tag and the nihilists see folly in paying the price of admission, since it’s all relative.

Everyday miracles are free. The warmth of the smile of those that love you is free. The sun on your face on a summer day doesn’t include a price of admission. The wind in your sails as you stretch your hands out on the ocean and watch the dolphins play in the surf has only the price of your presence and recognition. I am infatuated with these minute everyday miracles. “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13:13 There’s no big secret that only certain individuals have the key to or that “X” group holds proprietary ownership to. There’s no cover charge to life and there is no complexity to everyday miracles. In my life they simply are. For me God is in them. That may not be the same for you, but I’m not offended or think differently of others for it. I don’t sit in quiet determination of changing other people’s experiences but I like to share them for what they are to me. I am not privy to any great kept secrets and I fumble around losing sight of them daily. I am hoping to instead scrutinize the small more closely and stop wandering through life with spiritual attention deficit disorder. I think Rupert Brooke summed it up quite well.

These I have loved:

White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, færy dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such -- -
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns. . . .

Dear names,
And thousand other throng to me! Royal flames;
Sweet water's dimpling laugh from tap or spring;
Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing;
Voices in laughter, too; and body's pain,
Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;
Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam
That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;
And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;
And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;
And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass; -- -
All these have been my loves. And these shall pass,
Whatever passes not, in the great hour,
Nor all my passion, all my prayers, have power
To hold them with me through the gate of Death.
They'll play deserter, turn with the traitor breath,
Break the high bond we made, and sell Love's trust
And sacramented covenant to the dust.

---- Oh, never a doubt but, somewhere, I shall wake,
And give what's left of love again, and make
New friends, now strangers. . . .

But the best I've known,
Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown
About the winds of the world, and fades from brains
Of living men, and dies.

Nothing remains.

O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
This one last gift I give: that after men
Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed,
Praise you, "All these were lovely"; say, "He loved."

Idle Hands

Sun, 24 Feb 2008 07:45:46 -0800

I’ve always scoffed at the saying “Idle hands are the devil’s handiwork”. It’s one of those trite comments your mother made to you when she wanted you to do chores on a beautiful summer afternoon. I never put any stock into it, until I witnessed what happens when my husband has idle hands. For months now we have attempted to lounge peacefully on our back porch, only to be disturbed by teenagers jumping the fence behind our apartment. It’s used as a shortcut to get to the apartment building down the hill. Not using this unmarked path by our patio would force these kids to walk down the sidewalk and back to their initial location, since there are no stairs until you get about a half a block down the street. Evidently, this is a herculean effort for them, so we have had our patio solace interrupted on numerous occasions. Well have no fear....the laid off man is here.

A man without a full time diversion is a dangerous thing. We recently purchased a 27’ sailboat and I thought this would be enough to keep the husband out of trouble. I was wrong. A few days ago, my significant other trotted off with his friend down to the marina to work on the boat. He returned from his foray with a large oblong box full of some strangers biological refuse. Evidently, the guys he purchased the boat from didn’t find it necessary to remove, clean out, or sanitize the waste holding tank. Perhaps they felt they had left us a big prize in the cabin. Who knows?? Now for me, that box would have taken a one way trip to the trash but the guys have informed me that this big box of crap is worth about $100 U.S. I find that total more than fair to avoid lingering in the aroma of someone else’s feces. Now I bet you the reader are just about now putting 2 and 2 together. Our young teenage interlopers and the turd box are about to cross paths. Instead of going down to one of our local campgrounds and properly disposing of the filth box, my husband decides that he is short on entertainment. He’s between jobs and I am in another city for a few days. Ding...ding... “I know how to liven things up, I’ll pour the turd box down the side of the hill.” Now before you call the EPA, keep in mind that for the most part my husband is an extremely clean individual. He’s borderline OCD. So how he even managed to make this happen is funny in and of itself. I can just see his face as he dons his rubber gloves, turns his head to the side and half runs across the parking lot with a large plastic receptacle full of poo. He then proceeds to shower the area just below where the kids jump the fence, creating a hellish slip and slide for the next unsuspecting teenager who dares cut corners.

To my husband’s dismay, he did not get the perfunctory satisfaction of witnessing the results of his handiwork but the physical evidence plays out something like this.... Some poor kid was jaunting happily along over to his buddies apartment. He strolls across the parking lot completely unaware that he is about to meet with an extremely unpleasant fate. He jumps the fence and as the shoe prints tell us, took an unfortunate and unexpected ride somewhat like a slip and slide into a sewer. We were unable to find evidence of the hand that must have reached out in futile desperation to stop the impending descent into a valley of human waste. The poor bastard. All I can say about this wretched incident is that the recruiters better start calling soon or we could all be at risk.

My Pigeon Friend

Thu, 21 Feb 2008 21:05:35 -0800

Carl Sandburg - Pigeon

THE FLUTTER of blue pigeon’s wings
Under a river bridge
Hunting a clean dry arch,
A corner for a sleep—
This flutters here in a woman’s hand.

A singing sleep cry,
A drunken poignant two lines of song,
Somebody looking clean into yesterday
And remembering, or looking clean into
To-morrow, and reading,—
This sings here as a woman’s sleep cry sings.

Pigeon friend of mine,
Fly on, sing on.

I have full intentions of continuing my plans of world domination with my crew. Yes, we are freaks of nature but we roll with panache. Our Bacchic endeavors are epic. We wax philosophical in a flurry that would rival the Karate Kid on methamphetamines. In addition, my following does not promote the concept of extinction but rather an invasive style of natural selection al a Brave New World. It would behoove you and yours to simply hand over your genetic code, so that we can eradicate your kind in a precipitous manner. Your behavior is slowing down the pigeonistic movement. But let’s not be hasty. In truth, I found your previous ramblings both jocular and pernicious. A dichotomy...... In essence, you covet our feral view of the world and our love of french fries. I pose that you set aside our differences and find a nice park bench. I also venture to pose the question “Snozzberries...Who ever heard of a snozzberry??”

P.S. Your identity has been discovered and pigeons everywhere have been directed to launch an all out gastrointestinal assault.

Where am I supposed to be?

Mon, 21 Jan 2008 15:57:57 -0800

I just want to take a brief moment to let everyone know out there that if you are working with large groups of people and you haven’t figured out what a shared calendar is, you are wrong. I’ve been working on a really large project these last few months and the schedule is Soooo hectic. To exacerbate this issue, our project manager for this foray is not accustomed to the usage of shared calendars. At this point we are now on version 25 of aforementioned schedule and I am so confused, that most of the time I have to cross reference multiple documents just to figure out where I am supposed to be. I am suffering from disorganization by association. It’s killing me. I am one of those people that arrive early every day. Now......I miss appointments, don’t know where I am without cross referencing and I currently have no idea what I am doing for the entire month of February. I’ve decided that a Blackberry is going to be about the only thing that will help. Unfortunately, even that won’t save me from another transfer of information from version 26 of the calendar over to what I am using. So if any of you out there have any experiences with Blackberrys that you’ve owned, I’m all ears.