One year ago today: September 10, 2024, “interaction design”.
Five years ago today: September 10, 2020, makes all the difference.
Nine years ago today: September 10, 2016, Vivitar camera blog coincidence.
Random years ago today: September 10, 2015, two dozen raisin buns.
I’ll make the wild assumption you don’t want my report on my very successful medical checkup, so we can skip ahead to my visit to the old robot club headquarters, where Agt. M now lives with his family of five. His oldest kid is going to take over, he reads like I did while the others watch TV. He’s taking piano lessons and has a guitar, but only gets real input when I’m there. Because taking guitar lessons does not teach what you need to know.
This was early afternoon, so I braved the Miami traffic. Bad mistake. The last 19 miles to JZ’s place too two hours twenty minutes. Miami does not enforce traffic laws and they love to block all freeway lanes when there’s an accident in one. I go there to find JZ rather stressed from a year of that woman at his place. He finally shipped her off to Texas, but she’ll be back. I know a lot about such people, but I also know that men see what they want to see. You know what I see? A lazy woman after his money—but her and fifty others. I told you, he remembers when she was pretty some 50 years ago and there is NOTHING you can do about that.
Tell you what, buried down in today’s addendum, I’ll tell you one example of her behavior. This is NOT gossip at it may churn your tummy. But the top event of a day tends to get reported here without regard to whether it is nice or bad, and today it is bad. The good news, to my surprise, is JZ actually bought a real coffee maker. Not a K-cup, things are not that advanced at all. He still buys the dreaded Folgers.
Dankin, Saskatchewan, I think.
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We spent hours (with lots of coffee, ha-ha) catching up on the past year. He feels it was wasted irreplaceable time and I told him I agree. Nothing has happened, we had a repeat convo about how he really does not have a handle on investing and he should be quite wealthy by now. However, I’ve more than explained the pity of not investing—that it works mainly because other people never learn to do it right. Poor kids get exposure, rich kids somebody else does it for them. Folks, if you are over 58 and not got $100k tucked away, unless you are a genius, you have missed the boat—unless you inherit something.
Before continuing, JZ and I stopped at Joanna’s for lasagna. Mine is the larger portion shown here, a pound for $12. I’ve been fasting since 9:00PM y’day. This was supposed to be the best in land, but I did not care for it much. Too much tomato and not enough cheese. But you should have seen the women in that place. I could spend time hanging out there. For unknown reasons, I like poor girls and rich girls, not so much the ones in between.
At this point I have another criticism of poor people that, once again, I 100% understand. It is the attitude that right people “owe” they something. And JZ’s lady is no different. The way it works is somehow people scrape by, but as soon as they get around people with money, they suddenly develop refined tastes. I dump such women on the spot, but JZ, like a lot of men, puts up with nonsense because, well, you figure out the rest. Such men are desperately short of things I would not give a second thought.
I go over part of JZ’s budget and discover he is spending $53 per day on groceries. Hey, I know this guy and while he eats superbly, there is no way. JZ finally confesses that she was buying gourmet food, often that she had never had before—and if she did not like it after one bite, she would throw out the whole package. You see, as long a JZ is around, she doesn’t care because there is more where that comes from.
I repeat, this is not gossip, it is first hand information that I have permission to record, and trust me, the whole condo complex knows that is going on. I found JZ totally distraught over news of the doggie, stressed out, and behind on everything. I’m sticking around a couple days to help it.
ADDENDUM
Are you ready? This is sad. Okay, I’m the first one to say that stupid, lazy people should not be allowed to have pets. The lady in JZ’s life is one of those, in this blog she has the nickname “Kar”. When she moved in, she brought her dog, a terrier mix, lap dog. It takes an immediately liking to JZ, because he’s the one that feeds, waters, and walks him every day. As soon as she moves in, she begins sleeping until noon, so it becomes his chore.
Now, I know the doggie was not being kept right because any vet bills would have been paid by JZ—and he did not complain. Um, I don’t own a dog and my vet bills average $2,050 per year. In this process, JZ bonds with the doggie. But his life is upset [because the dog gloms onto him]. I am not singling out his particular women when I tell you this, I’m referring to such people in general. Whenever there is something they don’t like to do (like work) or eat, they develop pretty standardized excuses.
I grew up surrounded by such people. They can’t read because they have tumors behind both eyes. They can’t hear because they have tumors behind both ears. Can’t walk, tumors behind both legs, ad nauseum. Same with food, they are allergic to anything except ice cream, vodka, and filet mignon. But they can walk to the TV remote, blasts it up so loud people down the hall can hear it getting off the elevator, and lazy people can make it to the fridge and back sixty times a day, but that is another story. Let’s hear the tragic tale of the doggie.
Such women always have similar families and this one’s mother in Texas is dying for the 14th to 20th time since I’ve been around. It means another “necessary” trip to go visit, so you guessed it, JZ ponies up for the air fare—and Kar wants to take the doggie and a third suitcase, so he shells out money, plus she gets $300 “spending money” out of him.
She gets to Texas, but does not go to mommy’s house, instead, she takes the $300 and rents a motel. You got it, mommy won’t let her do drugs in the family house. So Kar cranks up in the motel and while she is goofed out, the unfed little doggie finds her unfinished drugs. He dies a horrible death overdosed on the sleazy motel carpet.
Now, I know it is sad but it is over and nothing can be done. I suggest we all move on. Thus, I will end today's post with the traditional last laugh.
