I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

A friend of mine had a young cat who became ill, recently. It went to sleep one afternoon and she couldn't get it to wake up.

So, she called the vet. He told her to try several remedies, to no avail. Kitty was still in a coma. So, as a very last resort, the Vermont country vet told her to take a medicine dropper, and put just a fractional amount of gasoline (petrol) on it's tongue.

So, she went into the garden shed, got out the gas can, poured out a small amount of gas and put a drop into a medicine dropper.

Kitty's owner kneels down next to the basket where the poor wee thing is lying. She opens his mouth and puts a drop on kitty's tongue. Nothing happens.

Kitty's owner is on her mobile calling the vet back, when all of the sudden, with a mighty yowl, kitty springs up out of his basket, and starts racing madly about the room.

The owner later related to me, how she watched, open-mouthed, as her little cat basically raced about the room in circles, then, finally, it flopped over, passed out cold. "Oh, I asked, "what happened?"

Kitty's owner replied, "He ran out of gas."

GOT'CHA.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking...again? Sorry. What can I say? I haven't a life anymore. And...well, us old maids have to do something to amuse ourselves.

Because of pending extensive budget cuts, Dr Who star David Tennant will now assume the roles of both the Doctor AND his companion. But, the actor is far from daunted: "I like a challenge--well, truthfully, I really do like getting to wear ladies knickers and stockings..."

Here we seen Actor David Tennant's reaction, when one of his co-stars publicly reveals on the air, that that big bulge in Tennant's trousers is really last year's Christmas haggis.

And if you want to be wowed by some really fine picking--just wait for the last minute or so of the video.

Another fine product brought to you by the Tackychav Company.

Just got with the doctor's office. They are leaning towards yet another infection. Won't know for sure until the test results come back. Oh golly gee whiz, more antibiotics, lucky me. I sweat so much last night, my pillow and hair were soaking wet when I woke this morning. So I figured something's not kosher with me.

This is the same doctor who told me a several weeks ago, that I should take a month off, go somewhere nice and just rest. Yeah. Someone doesn't live on Planet Reality. Oh sure, losing my job, my cats, my apartment and all my possessions, so I can take a month's holiday and "get well." That's not going to be stressful for me, nahhh! Right. And, moving on...

I got an e-mail on Saturday, saying that this person, "Mark," liked my writing on my blog so much, that he wanted to publish my stuff in a book. Claimed he was with a small publishing company in the U.K.

Okay, I'm not naive, honest, not anymore anyway. Been jerked around and ripped off, once too often for that. But, the letter was polite, well-written (unlike a lot of those con artists, with poor grammar and bad spelling, trying to pass themselves off as business professionals), so I clicked on the link he gave me. It seemed legit at a casual glance...but, not a lot of info on the webpage--it was a little too pat and generic for me. So, I Google'd a bit, and...nothing. There is no such publishing company in the UK. I have a source--a website that I found, back in my college days, that lists every known publisher in the USA, Canada, UK, Australia and NZ, and several other countries, besides. I had to dig to find it, as I didn't remember exactly what the site name was. The ONLY listing, anywhere, that I can find for "Excalibur Publishing," is on the web, and it's a video game company, not a book publisher.

But, armed with this, I went back to the "publishing" house's webpage--just to make sure I got the name right, and that is wasn't some quirky spelling I'd not noticed, or to see if it was listed under another name. Nope, that was the name. And, towards the bottom, in very tiny print--was a button, "getting published."

Turns out, YOU pay them, to publish your book---five hundred pounds (1000 dollars) up front!

I wrote the guy and told him to please remove my e-mail from his mailing list. That if I had a 1000 dollars, I'd be paying off a small debt, buying groceries and a perhaps a couple of clothing items I do need, and saving the rest for a rainy day...of which I seem to have too many of, these days.

I went to the webpage, today---no longer exists! No really, the link no longer works!

LIFE LESSON NUMBER 467:

If it sounds way too good to be true, if someone pops in out of the blue, offering to make your dreams a reality, don't you believe it---someone's just after your money, they don't really give a damn about you.

Yours truly is being forced to take half a day off. I'm incredibly ill today, for some reason. Wasn't well last night, but passed it off as just common stomach upset.

Had a bit of a rich dinner last night--my cherried chicken, with coucous flavoured with garlic and herbs, and some brussel sprouts. Figured my stomach just wasn't handling the rich food. With rising prices and lower pay checks, I can only do meals like this, maybe once or twice a week--if at all, so my stomach's not used to this stuff, any longer. I don't mean that I'm starving or anything, not at all--but low budgets mean cheaper and less nutritious meals, at least, here in America, they do. What one could by for 40 dollars (20 pounds), just a year or two ago, can now cost as much as 50 to 60 dollars today, depending where one shops/lives.

Anyway, last night I figured that a little of the ol' Pepto stuff (gah-I hate that stuff) would make things right.

Guess again. Concerned because the pain is near my kidney, so, even tho' can't afford it at all, it's back to the doctor's for me. I'll work night shift, tho', losing half a day's pay is bad enough, a whole day's pay would totally bankrupt my already near non-existent budget!

So, I have to be off, later today, to do stuff. Flame's sunning herself in the open window..she's taken to sleeping on my clean towels in the bathroom...great. Now I'll have cat hair on my face and body when I get out of the shower.

I had the two boys sleeping in my bed with me, most the night--they are big boys and it's a small bed and they take up a LOT of space! Not as much as Shamrock used to. My half-collie weighed nearly seventy pounds (we don't use "stone" over here, by the way), and sometimes I'd wake up of a morning, as she'd be stretched out beside me, with her head on my pillow, snoring away, just like a person would do. Thank heaven she didn't have fleas!

Here's a pic of Shamrock with my late mum, taken in our driveway at home, in the summer of 1979:

The picture quality is so poor, because I didn't have this roll of film developed until 2005! Still have some rolls in my photo box from the seventies, that have never been done...maybe someday..

Another picture I took on my one of my country drives through Washington County, NY. Snapped this pic of a Gurnsey cow on a little back road in Fort Ann, New York. Fort Ann is in the southern Adirondack mountain region, about a 40 minute drive from the Vermont border.

The photo was shot in early October of 2004.

Seems members and visitors of the website, UKTV Drama, have voted David Tennant "Best Doctor Who Ever." He got over half the votes. Congrats, David!

The website says, "Warm, quirky and sentimental, he's the Doctor with the most heart." Also, they add that one person on their messageboards says this of Mr. Tennant: "He's got a smile that outshines a million candles."

Here's my very un-scientific analysis of Regional differences, from a telemarketers point of view. I've called coast to coast, every state in the USA, and every single province of Canada.

I'm doing this as a series, where I'll discuss my personal experiences with populations from various regions across the U.S.

As far as the USA goes, here's my less-than-in-depth analysis of what people are like in various states/regions of the US, when it comes to basic telephone behaviour and general personality quirks:

Part I--New York and New England:

NEW ENGLAND:

Maine--bonkers. No, really. Mainers largely very nice, but also are bonkers. No lie. Trying to have a sensible conversation with the average Mainer is a bit of a challenge--okay, it's maddening. I like Mainers, don't get me wrong, but I HATE talking to them. It's like, people from Maine are born already sectioned. Here's how one old lady answered the phone, recently, when I asked for her by name, "Yes, she's right here." (LONG PAUSE) "Well, can I speak with her ma'am?" "You can speak with her all you want." (GRINDING MY TEETH) "That's good. But is she available to come to the phone right now?" "Yes." (LONG PAUSE)--then a light dawns. "Is this Mrs. McDonalad?" "That's what I said, I'm right here. What do you want?" ARRGH!!!! Mainers!!!! (About that time I'm ready to bang my head on my desk)
And that's a NORMAL conversation, okay?

Vermont and New Hampshire both are very closed, suspicious and abrupt...oh, and cheap, very cheap. Not a myth about New Englander's being tight-wads with their money--they really are.

New Yorkers (varies from region to region)

People in the metro NYC area are mostly nice, tho' sometimes in a bit of a hurry.
People in downstate New York and Long Island (downstate = north of NYC and south of the mid-Hudson valley) are largely uptight, paranoid, egotistical and snobby. But, like other areas, there are pockets of nice here and there.
People in upstate and northeastern New York are uptight, paranoid, mean and self-centred--mostly. There's pockets of nice--mostly in rural areas. I speak from a lifetime of experience, and not just as a telemarketer.
People in Northern New York are a mixture of both nice and uptight.
People in Western New York are mostly pretty nice. Except for Buffalo...those people are a bit odd--but hey, it's Buffalo...

New Jersey: A mixture across the board...there's nice, uptight and snarky, and rude chavs. Regionally, the rural people are nicer to deal with. The closer to NYC one gets, the more one finds the negative people.

Pennslyvania: half-and-half: half nice and half uptight snobs.

Massachusetts: A bit distant and mildly snobbish, sometimes rude, but reasonably intelligent--you can actually talk to most of them, which is more than I can say, sadly, for most of America. Like many places in the region, there are pockets of nice people, here and there, tho' unlike many places, there's no clear pattern marking the nice regions from the snobby and rude areas. It seems to be random, which is actually unusual.

Rhode Island (don't get many of these). Snobs. Right across the board. A lot like Vermonters, as well.

Another B&W pic I took for my college art class. I found this 1920's tractor sitting out in an old hay field, on state route 32, just north of the town of Gansevoort in Saratoga County, New York. Again, I used 400 speed film and an auto-focus 35mm camera. I gave the picture the above title for my art project.

Pining for Rose and Martha, also Captain Jack and the Master, the Doctor decides to run away from the Tardis and join the circus.

"Pssst. Tell that idiot I'm...indisposed--permanently."

"Hey, ya'll! Where's yer little ol' Queeenie at?"

Well, I do seem to be going senile. I'm nursing home bound, I am.

My focus just isn't there, today. Times like this, I really wish I had a stable life and/or someone with me, just to help me get my head on straight--this stress is really deteriorating my brain cells, I swear. Nights like this, I think I should just do away with my head, altogether.

I put down my student loan hardship deferment form, and...can't find it now! I mean, I only live in three flippin' rooms (not counting the loo--oh, why'nt I look there?)....

Yup! Whew! I mean, that's really disconcerting--one minute you've got something in your hand, the next--no clue. I've gotta' get this done and faxed to these people by Wednesday, or I'm deep in the nasty brown stuff, know what I mean?

It's only a 6-month economic hardship deferment, but it will keep me from literally losing the little bit I have--including the roof over my head, my cats, my furnishings, my late mum's knick-knacks, my books, my computer, etc...

Yeah. LOL. Like I'm gonna' be any richer in six months. I mean, I was economically better off six months ago, than I am right now. So I'm not so sure six months from now if that's gonna' change at all.

Basically, financially speaking, when it comes to student loans in America, the poor are essentially dead meat. Bush and Co. pretty much ripped to shreds any legal protections student loan recipients have. We can't claim our loans in bankruptcy proceedings. Isn't that ever so nice of Uncle Sam? They throw this money at us--but if we can't get a DECENT FRIGGIN' PAYING JOB--we're screwed!

I loved college (mostly), but, from a practical standpoint--it was five years totally and utterly flushed down the loo. I went to school to get out of poverty--and I'm very much worse off now, than I was before I went back to school! F__K that! (Pardon my language, but that's the way I feel.)

I was actually better off on nothing but disability---I had housing assistance, food assistance, heating (bills) assistance...and a regular cheque that came in the mail each month--the same amount every month.

Now--my life is rubbish. There's a reason I don't own a gun. Seriously, I mean it. Every time I turn around, since 2005, things just go from bad to worse--what the hell kind of life is that?

Reality check: Things are probably not "going to get better." Month in and month out, on a daily basis sometimes, it's a miserable, stressful, frightening and depressing sort of life.

I can't even find a second part-time job as an office cleaner, chamber maid or dishwasher--turned down at every corner. My health of late, isn't helping anything. I can't afford--literally, any more doctor's visits, let alone hospitalizations. Forget it. I'd rather just let it go, quite frankly, than have any more bills I simply can't pay. What the hell difference does it make, in all seriousness? I'm sorry, but sometimes, I just feel, financially speaking, like I'm being marched into life's gas chamber. No matter what I do, how hard I try, it's just still going to be rubbish, in the end. And all my efforts are for naught.

Ah well, dealing with this paperwork stuff, and these nasty student loan yuppie brats (why do they hire yuppies for sensative jobs like student loan assistance and social work--these young men and women from well-off homes almost all have no clue, and no patience, and no empathy at all with the poor--so why even get into that line of work? (Money! It pays well, and ego, they can say they "help" people--even tho' they usually don't.)

Since I'm taking a bit of a break between Dr Who stories, here's a tiny little piece I wrote last year. It's a one-off, meant to be what's known as a Round Robin story (where different people pitch in and contribute individual chapters), I wrote the first chapter--it just didn't fly. The character of the Producer was inspired by the character of the Controller of Satilite (or how the heck-ever one spells that) Five in Series 1 of Who...and Who knows? It may be the same guy.... It takes place in Hollywood in the late 1970's, and features a certain Doctor from that era:

Dr Who: The Producer

The Producer strode into the smoky board room, staring about him with a jaundiced eye. In his five-hundred dollar cream colored polyester leisure suit and open necked red paisley silk shirt he strode silently back and forth across the room, restlessly pacing like a caged tiger. Every last one of the assembled flunky’s sitting apprehensively at the long table had been twittering nervously amongst themselves before his arrival. Now they sat in stone cold silence, waiting word from their master. The pale man continued pacing and pacing in silence, eyeing his assistants like a king before his cowed slaves.

Just then, the double doors bust open. The producer turned and looked askance at the man who’d just bounded into the room. He was very tall, with dark curly hair, big teeth and wide expansive eyes. He had on a floppy hat, a long multicoloured scarf and a corduroy jacket and pants. Without ceremony, the man flung himself into an easy chair in a corner of the room. He pulled out a bag from his pocket and held it up. “Hullo! Would anyone care for a jelly baby?” He asked, smiling broadly.

And, as I always try to reaffirm, at the end of each story, Dr Who is copyright of the BBC.