DIAZ: Yup that's me


I will not eat spider plants and hallucinate behind the toilet.

Captain, the French are about to kick my ass.

(no subject)
DIAZ: Yup that's me
Hello followers.

I regret to inform you that Diaz has passed away, as of 9:40am (PST) on Sunday, January 19, 2014

She is sorely missed


Posted by her ex palmer_kun, who was there for her at the end.

For more details come bug me at my journal

Re palmer_kun
At about 10:15pm on Saturday, May 4th, palmer_kun had a hemorrhagic stroke. He is now in hospital and will remain there for the foreseeable future.

He was at home when the stroke hit, and received prompt medical care, but is not in good condition at the moment.

As you can imagine, I'm attempting to cope, and while I welcome your comments here and on his journal, I ask that those of you who know us offline please refrain from calling. I want the phone lines open in case the hospital calls to report changes in his condition.

Thank you.

I have a new job. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
DIAZ: Yup that's me
Where am I working now?

In an adult toy store. My company is quite well known in the Lower Mainland, and I have the graveyard shift at the Whalley store, three nights a week. These are 12 hour shifts, by the way.Collapse )

(no subject)
DIAZ: Yup that's me

This is Finn. I tossed a shirt over him while I was folding laundry, and he froze in place, mid-butt lick. He's been like this for fifteen minutes now, and I suspect he's gone to sleep.


I spoke too soon. Arlo just head butted him and startled him out from under.

A neat thing!!
DIAZ: Yup that's me
I love this song, and this is really pretty cool.

BIIIG video under cutCollapse )

You're not serious, are you?
LEAVE ME ALONE: I hate everything today
Ladies & Gentlemen, Boys & Girls -

When you do or say something that physically or emotionally hurts someone else, your intent is irrelevant.

"Calm down. It's no big deal. I was only joking! You're making this a bigger deal than it is."... these are stupid things to say. Your actions or words have hurt someone. (And honestly, if you didn't MEAN to call someone something hurtful, why did you fucking do it? I call bullshit on that, eternally.)

Sure, some people are what I personally consider 'over-sensitive' about various things, and I find it annoying when people lose their composure in public. BUT. If I hurt someone, I apologise. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I did cause them pain somehow, and I don't like that. It's an unpleasant lesson, but I will know better for next time, hopefully.

If you hurt someone, don't tell them that what you did is perfectly OK and that they're a baby or a wimp or stupid for finding it hurtful. Accept that you messed up, at least a little bit, and have a little humility. Tell them you're sorry that you caused them pain. Please don't compound your error, however slight, by then doing something similar in an attempt to make a joke of it. That's what selfish, insensitive jerks do.

If you throw your cans of stewed tomatoes at the checkout guy and hit his arm and he says, "Ow!" - you've hurt him. Apologise. Then put the rest of your groceries on the fucking belt and DON'T THROW ANOTHER COUPLE OF CANS AT HIM.

And when you hit him again and break his skin with the rim of a can, definitely don't get huffy and say, "I figured you were paying attention this time, ya fuckin' idiot."

By the way, that woman who snarled at you and reminded you that the cashier is doing his job, and no part of his job should involve customers throwing cans of food at him? She's right, and you're being a jackass, and I'm SO GLAD the manager ejected you sans groceries when you called my friend a 'stupid fat cunt'.

I am hating some members of the public desperately today.

Today is my day to rant at people, it seems.
LEAVE ME ALONE: I hate everything today
Started out with this.

Then, this caught my eye and I had to send the UK Coalition for Marriage a note.Collapse )

I think I'm a little cranky today.

So I'm still mad about getting fired.
DIAZ: Yup that's me
Applied for EI today. I have no idea if they'll agree to give me money, but I sure hope so. And I'm applying for jobs online every day, usually about 15 of them. Signed up for a bunch of email alerts from the job bank sites, and there's Craigslist, and Alli's keeping her eyes open for me too.

Where I may end up working, and my feelings on life at the moment.Collapse )

When I was a kid, my dream was to be a kept woman, traveling the world, doing what I wanted, when I wanted, and feeling absolutely entitled to that life. Look at what growing up does to your priorities, huh? I still want that lifestyle, but I want it on my own dime. Or from a lottery win. I could handle that.

My life: so difficult.
I have just come home from watching Jack Reacher. Its basic premise seems to be that Tom Cruise should do another series of movies where he gets to be stoically bad-ass and hit people, all in the name of being the good guy. This series will be less tech-y than Mission: Impossible, and will not be an ensemble cast of heroes, but a loner hero out Doing Good and Preserving the American Way with bullets, fast cars, and fists.

In other news, Cruise is looking less ragged in this film than he has in the preceding few.

Moving on.

I have been arguing with Arlo for the past thirty minutes. Yes, Arlo the cat. He wants to sit on my left shoulder while I am on the computer. I do not want this, because he doesn't know how to put his claws away, and when he perches, he purrs and kneads, leaving me with dozens of puncture wounds on the back of my left shoulder and up the side of my neck.

Me: *blocking his approach on the arm of my chair* No, buddy. Go on.
Arlo: Marrm. *headbutt my arm*
Me: You're very handsome, yes. Now please bugger off.
Arlo: Muurrrrgah.
Me: Because you put holes in me, dude. No.
Arlo: *push against my arm with his head, get his chin up on my shoulder* Mao?
Me: No. Bugger off! *put cat on the sofa*
Arlo: *jump over me to the back of the chair, come around to other side, step onto keyboard tray* Mramaram.
Me: *laughing* You fucking doofus. Go eat something. *put cat on the floor*

Interlude: Arlo wanders off to, presumably, eat something and possibly discuss politics with the bedroom door. It wouldn't be the first time.

Arlo: *bound up onto the keyboard tray, leap past my arms to land squarely on my left boob; stick head under my chin for a kiss* Purrip?
Me: Ow. Damn it, cat, I said no. *give kiss; put cat on floor*
Arlo: *hop up to left arm of chair, put paw on my collarbone, give inquiring look* Mrrrzaur?
Me: Will you please fuck off for fifteen minutes? Just fifteen minutes where I don't have a cat giving me pinholes and a crick in my neck? *put cat back on floor*
Arlo: *faster than ever before in his life - bound up to back of chair, over my right shoulder, and around to my left shoulder; settle in like he's been there for an hour*
Me: Seriously?
Arlo: *purr like a rusty lawnmower, squeaks and all* Mrah. *smug*
Me: What the fuck, cat?
Finn: *bound from sofa to keyboard tray to my right boob; fall over like a fainting damsel* Brrrrt.
Me: *give up; give kisses to both cats* Fine. At least you two are better than a scarf.

Just a thing I need to say.
DIAZ: Yup that's me
Oh, come on already.

Gents: if she doesn't want to date YOU, but wants to be your friend, that's because there's something about you that makes her feel you're not a reasonable match for her as a boyfriend, but you're appealing in some other way. She may associate your face shape with someone she broke up with in high school, but still really like your jokes. Your style of dress may strike her as odd or inappropriate, but she enjoys discussing politics or white water rafting with you. Maybe you're stylish and urbane and suave and sophisticated, but she thinks that guys who wear fedoras are deluded about how they really look, and it turns her off.

Read more...Collapse )

Also, for those men who do hook up: any woman who is stunningly gorgeous on a night out with friends is a little plainer without the makeup and careful styling, but she's still the woman you found so attractive a few hours earlier, so enough with the bullshit about waking up next to someone ugly after going home with a looker. It's an asshole thing to say. You may want to consider that she's thinking the same about you. You looked pretty good the night before, when alcohol and fun were a part of the scene. Now she's waking up to some guy she hardly knows, and wow, are you really what she was looking for?

Still angry, but less sad now.
CAUTION: This is Sparta!
Continuing on from my previous post, at least I can say I have good people in my corner.

The biggest shock in all of this is discovering that the company owner, Bosslady, is actually kind of a horrible person. I really thought, all this time, that she gave half a shit about her employees' needs and well-being, and it turns out she really doesn't. If a worker isn't following the company line, the worker is useless, no matter what other factors might come into play. It's disconcerting, to say the least.

Got long again.Collapse )

Yeah, I never said I wasn't a vindictive bitch, seriously.

November 22, 2005 - January 4, 2013.
DIAZ: Yup that's me
So I got fired today.

Ranting. You may not want to bother.Collapse )I made the mistake of thinking that seven years of loyalty to this rinky-dink company would be recognised and perhaps count for something, but I was wrong.

I'm so ANGRY right now. At least I told Bosslady, as she was firing me, that she's made some poor choices. She and her daughter, Boss C, never have to work with the problem clients, except at billing time. They don't understand any of the pressure they're heaping on their employees, but more importantly, I doubt they care.

XMAS: I like Yuletide Alot
Dudes, when I went to bed last night, it was kind of greyish sludge outside. We'd had a sleet fall, and a tiny bit of actual snow.

Jay woke me up to see outside before he goes off to D&D, and holy crap. SNOW. It's dumping down heavily, and we've got roughly three or four inches piled up on objects in the yard.

Don't care. Going to see The Hobbit today. I have boots, it's all good. I also have a decent winter coat, layers to go under the coat, and a woolly hat with a bobble on top and those braided yarn danglers everybody likes this decade. I don't know if my 15-foot scarf will be a practical addition, but I'm gonna try it.

I ordered an ice cream cake from Marble Slab today, to pick up on Xmas Eve. Damn you, Groupon, you give me too much good stuff...

We're safe and Chris was an absolute champ
Had a bit of an adrenaline jolt tonight.

It was scary!Collapse )

I may be an evil genius in disguise.
DIAZ: Yup that's me
Take an ordinary empty toilet paper tube. Fold in the sides at one end, so you have a reasonable seal. Put a generous pinch of catnip inside the tube. Fold in the sides of the other end of the tube.

Give to your too-smart-for-his-own-good cat, and watch him nose the thing around the kitchen floor for half an hour, yelling at it and occasionally bunny-kicking the shit out of it, but not managing to open it up.

Giggle evilly when he dances sideways at it and looks at you imploringly. Giggle harder when he noses it under the fridge and demands that you rescue it. Rescue nip tube. Give back to frustrated cat. Retreat to comfy chair to watch the show.

ETA: I accidentally some words.

Emergency Beta? Anyone?
Cranky people have feelings too!
I have a fest fic to send in, but I need someone to give it a look before I do that. I usually don't work with a beta reader, but I'd like to start.

It's Gen, Snape-centric, about 1500 words, and I need it checked-and-sent-back by Dec 2. If you're interested, please email me - soberloki [at] livejournal [dot] com - for the .txt file.

Heh. I'm participating in fandom again, go figure.
Cranky people have feelings too!
Snape Showcase
[info]snapecase: Celebrating Severus Snape throughout his ages!

(no subject)
DIAZ: Yup that's me
I had a VERY vivid and upsetting dream last night.

It was gross, so you have to click for details.Collapse )

I woke up crying (I'm doing it again, writing this out), and then Finn showed up and settled on my pillow, purring. Sometimes that cat is a furry little saint. I was too muddled to get up, but with him draped over my arm and half in my face, purring up a storm, I could tell myself that the dream wasn't real, but Finn was, and he was OK, and it was OK to go back to sleep.

Holy fuck, it was awful. Seriously, if you've come this far without opening up the cut, you're better off. I just needed to get it out of my head.

Mycroft, you bastard. EDIT: Or not.
DIAZ: Yup that's me
I am deeply bummed right now. My smartphone Mycroft seems to have shit itself and died.

Going to the Wind store on Wednesday to see if they can do anything for me, but I really have no idea what the fuck is wrong. It hasn't been wet. It hasn't been dropped. It hasn't spent time in an excessively warm place. It doesn't get torqued or banged about or left near magnets.

It doesn't even drain the battery pack I plugged it into. There's just... nothing. I fucking love this thing, it makes my life simpler and it lets me watch TV and find information and play games and figure out where the hell my bus is so I don't miss it. Damn it, I want my phone to work!

Also, it's my alarm clock and calendar and email machine. Fuck.

ETA: Well, don't I feel like an idiot. My precious Mycroft is fine, and it was the frigging cable I was using with the charger. The battery was just completely dead, and the cable had gone to the great spool in the sky. I am greatly relieved, and grateful to Jay for providing another cable and showing me the error of my moping.


I want to cook something big and tasty.
I MADE FOOD: Seriously.
Mood improved dramatically in the last few days for obvious reasons, so now I want to cook something that feels hearty and homey and such stuff. I'm thinking stew of some sort, because I know myself, and a crockpot of stew is about half an hour of work and then six or eight hours of delicious smells, followed by tasty tasty stew. I can commit to that much planning and effort.

I think I need some grocery store garlic bread to go with this, and maybe some of that apple pie we have for dessert. Well, by the time I have money for stew meat and such, it'll be different pie, because the first one will be long gone. But still.

Or maybe crockpot lasagna? Does that exist? I could even look into a bottle of red wine, like grown-ups drink. I always drink Diet Pepsi or water or milk, but never wine. But maybe the store clerk will be able to tell me something good to go with beef, and then I can actually do an official adult mealtime thing.

Heh. Yes, I'm serious. I've never had wine with a meal, unless it was cooked into the food. It never seemed important, and for the majority of my (admittedly quite small) social circle, wine just isn't part of our lives.

Anyone have any ideas for bottles of red available for under $15 in BC?

DIAZ: Yup that's me

I keep waking up and he's still here, curled up on my hip. Goodnight


Holy shit holy shit holy shit
Arlo is not, as previously feared, departed from this world.

In fact, it turns out he let himself out, got confused, and spent two solid weeks hiding in the yard, avoiding all human contact. I learned about this from Alli on Saturday evening, when she spotted Arlo on her rear porch. The big fool was so confused, he wouldn't even come inside when she left our door open with Finn locked up in the bedroom, and he'd actively flee from anyone who tried to rescue him.

Why did she mention this only recently? She didn't realise he'd even been missing (major communication fail on my part, I assumed Jay said something, and I guess he assumed I'd done it). So since Saturday night, I've been wandering the yard and calling Arlo, trying to get him to meow back. He wouldn't respond. Or he was being so quiet I couldn't hear him over the rain, which we've had several days of.

Tonight, Finn spotted him out the back window and puffed up, so I got to the door and called Arlo, and he cried back. I kept calling and found him under one of the vans parked in the yard, and then stuck my hand down and sweet-talked him until he crawled out and rubbed up on my leg. Scooped him up, brought him in. He didn't resist even a little. I think he was just relieved to have someone familiar pet and cuddle him, the poor old boy.

He's skinnier than ever and has a scrape on his left elbow, but he's not sluggish or any more disoriented than he was before all of this. I took him to the food bowls and the litter box so he'd remember; he's put on a show of demanding attention from both of the humans already. In fact, as I type this, he's perched on my left shoulder, purring and mindlessly digging in his claws like normal.

I have to call The Mum first thing tomorrow, she'll be so pleased!

Just leaving this here... go ahead, you know you wanna click it.
42: What else is there?

Figure 16 is my favourite.

DIAZ: Yup that's me

Talked to The Mum, told her that he was gone. He was her baby first, and I was so scared she'd freak out at me, but she was kind and made me feel less awful for a while.


We talked about how he was as a baby, and how he never lost his love of sitting on your collarbones and being told how pretty he was.


We talked about how he hated Finn at first and then started taking care of the little brat, and actually laughed a bit about all of my cats and how similar they've been.


And then her phone died, but I'm going to call her again in a couple of days.

I am sad today.
[Arlo D. Moose has left us.]My big old scaredy cat has vanished.

Sunday is the last time either of us can recall seeing him, and searching the house has so far not turned him up.

In the last six or eight months, it's been clear that Arlo was on a decline, losing weight and getting clumsy, and given that he was almost 10, and all of his littermates but one are already gone, I had sort of accepted that I wouldn't have him for much longer.

I'm pretty sure my lovely old boy has gone off on his own to find a place to die.

I wish his instincts weren't as strong as they are, but he's always been an oddly wonderful and unique furball.

He was scared to death of the ceiling fan in our place, and we only figured it out when we tried to carry him while walking past it and he lost his furry little mind trying to get away. I still have the scar on the back of my arm from that day. Near as I can figure, he thought it was a very large, very patient, predatory bird.

One of his favourite things was so join me in bed and curl up on my hip or butt, depending on how I was stretched out. Or, if I was facedown, particularly if I was reading or playing with my phone, he'd have to fit himself inside the space between my arms, so I could drop kisses on him and whuffle his belly.

You know whuffling. You stick your face in the cat's belly and blow air or make noises, and the cat either loves it or eats your available ear. Or both. Anyway, Arlo loved it.

He'd become less confident lately. We thought perhaps he had kitty dementia, because he'd seem really scared and lost, and then we'd pet him and he'd relax and purr. He would still fall off of things, though, and recently needed a lot more cuddles and attention. I made a point of putting blankets and towels on him lately, because he'd been over-grooming his back end and his fur was thin, and he always liked being under. He'd make chatty noises at me and settle in more.

Arlo was the cat you could shove over on his side and pet for an hour, and he'd be perfectly fine with that, unless he knew food was being put out for him somewhere. He hated the dog from upstairs, and any cats that weren't Finn, and he'd go screaming and swatting at the window if he saw them, and five minutes later he'd be giving Finn a facewash and purring like he'd never been happier.

He was afraid of the microwave door. Not the microwave operating noise, or the physical object, even. You'd catch him sitting on top of the microwave looking perfectly content and not at all bothered. He was afraid of the door. Of the noise the door made. Of it opening. It got to the point where if he saw you moving toward the microwave with a plate of food, he'd bolt in terror and hide in another room. In fact, one day I opened the microwave door and had him come vaulting over the top edge, hissing and puffed up. I didn't know he was asleep up there behind a box of popcorn packets.

Arlo has been part of my life since he was 3 or 4 weeks old. He was born March 8-ish, 2003, and I first met him in early April of that year. He was a loud, squawky kitten who wouldn't stop screaming until I picked him up, and then he cuddled up on my collarbone and went to sleep. He did the same to my mother a couple of months later, and she fell in love, and he came home with us.

In his entire life, he never learned to retract his claws. Watching him try to run on carpet was hysterical, and you could always hear him coming. One of his many nicknames was Tick Tick, for the sound he made on non-carpeted surfaces. Damn, that cat was fun, and ridiculous, and I don't want him to be gone.

About 3.5 years ago, my mother couldn't take care of him any more, so he came to live with me. He was a huge, silly, loving chicken, and he could give the sweetest, most adoring looks when he was happy, which was a lot of the time. He and Gord were good buddies, and when Gord died, Arlo was lonely.

When Finn arrived, Arlo was having none of it. He hissed and growled and yowled and Finn blithely ignored him except to use him as a living climbing-and-chewing toy. Eventually, Arlo learned to sit on Finn and wash him until he squirmed free and fled, and they became chums. Arlo had a mothering instinct with other cats.

I know it's his time. I know. But I could accept that so much better if I knew where he was, and could be sure he wasn't cold, or scared, or in pain. I wanted to be there when he left, so I could tell him he's a pretty boy and we love him, and give him cuddles if he'd have them.

Finn's clearly aware that something's wrong, because he's been needier than ever before, and when I cry, he shows up and chirps at me. I wish he could tell me where to find Arlo. He hasn't been disappearing or making noises in other rooms like I should follow him, so I don't have a clue if he understands that Arlo's gone or missing or what.

I'm sad. I miss him already, of course. I just want to tell him he's still and always the Big Pretty, and that he'll be missed, and that he was brilliant, even when he was a weird little pain in the ass. He was such a sweet cat, and all he ever really wanted was love.


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