Saturday morning sucked.
I've been helping a couple fur, Rain Hopper and Pawfan, find a place to live now that he's in Southern California having moved here from back east. Right now he's stuck in hotels so me and his other friends have been concerned with how much money he was spending. We knew he had to find a place to move fast.
On Wednesday he found a place that looked really good and asked me to come out to see. I did. And by chance the cleaning crew was there. We asked permission to go take a look around because we were supposed to have been able to do it earlier but Rain couldn't get there in time. The people cleaning said it was ok and so we went in and took a good look around. It needed a lot of work, but the design had a lot of promise. The neighborhood too was quite nice. And the price was low. I fell in love with the place myself and offered to sign on it and move in with the others.
We had a rescheduled appointment to meet up with the guy on Saturday and so we went to go see him and discuss options. The guy took one at me and Pawfan (Rain was at work) and his whole attitude changed. It was hard to get him to talk to us and it seemed like we were getting the brush off.
We tried to ask for details about renting or even possibly buying the place and he told us to call him back in a half-hour. It sounded like a brush off but eventually we drove off and called him back. When we called back it seemed he didn't want to talk to us at all. He wouldn't give us any details of the property. I called him back and left a message about the property, but he didn't call back.
The next morning I got a call from him and he had a totally different attitude. He was upbeat, talkative and communicative. And then I told him who I was, and it changed right back to Mr. Jerk. That's when I knew for certain he was a racist.
And that's what sucks. I find a place I can afford to move into (California is crazy-nuts on the housing costs where you can get a home for 600k you can find elsewhere in the country for about 20k) and the guy who I have to do business with is damn racist! Argh!
I spent a few hours driving around the city looking for other places and couldn't find anything. Not only does it suck for me, but it's actually hurting Rain Hopper.
*sighes* I guess I'll keep looking.
I've been gone for quite a long time. Not to some distant land and not from the net. I've been on an adventure ever since 2 the Ranting Gryphon proposed to me the idea of starting a Furry Magazine.
Its not your typical adventure. Its an adventure to a place that, at least for me, is totally new. It gives me a chance to serve the furry populace in its entirety.
For a while now, I've been itching to help the community at large with something that would give a little back to community. Not being an artist or an author, I needed something else. I just didn't know what.
Then 2 came by and proposed this idea for a Furry Magazine that was targeted at being the furry information center. No porn or other fringe stuff. Just the very lifestyle of furry itself and all the facets there-of.
I have never been a publisher myself, but I had a good idea what to expect. And I knew enough to know it wasn't going to be easy.
But I said 'Yes' and now I'm on a hell of a ride. Its a little like running a marathon race over an obstacle course where you both have to make it to the finish and get there before the hour is up. Its tough. It takes away from most of my spare moments. And those moments I do get are usually spent in a exhausted stupor.
But for however hard it has been, I'm loving it.
PPMP "The Horror" was a blast I don't think I will have again for quite some time. I highly recommend it.
That said, don't fly United during crying baby season.
Anyway, here are the pictures and a few low-res videos from the convention.http://photobucket.com/albums/g183/Waggs-Wolf/
I'm back from PPMP. That's a good con. There's nothing like a few hundred furs bouncing around giving some guests a full-time "Disney" experience and freaking the crap out of others.
This is how it all started. I was finishing up the last day of the con by hanging out in the hotel lobby when a group of British tourists checked in. One woman in the group, in her 20's I would guess, staggered down the lobby walkway and then stopped cold. She screamed at the top of her lungs loud enough to wake the people in the top floor of the tower outside and she jumped back and curled up in fear. The furs and I looked at each other wondering what the hell could have freaked her out when she said, "What the HELL is that!?" directing her gaze at Laughing Hyena in full fursuit.
It was funny at first, but then as she continued to cower and avoided the big eyed smile of the fursuit as if he were death itself, it didn't seem that funny anymore. She was honestly scared to death. Her friends had to about drag her through the lobby out to the hotel rooms behind.
It was just a funny and disturbing moment that gave this year's theme of "The Horror" a new meaning for at least one hotel guest. Little did I know that I myself would experience a horror of my own. A small memento to follow me home from the convention.
The night went on until I finally had to excuse myself to leave for the airport shuttle which, for some reason had scheduled me to be picked up at 3am for a 7am flight. I cursed at that a little but figured, I'd just catch my sleep when I got to the airport.
The shuttle arrived a few minutes late but I didn't notice too much given I was sleeping where I stood having been up for the whole convention day prior. I loaded my gear into the van and it took off. I figured I'd take a little nap in the van but the driver kept talking to me to fill his time. We stopped and picked up two other guests from other hotels and with the larger audience they just talked louder as if to try to fill up the eerily empty streets with something other than the sound of nothing.
We arrived at the airport and I checked in. I found it immediately odd that the airport was so packed at 3 in the morning. But I dismissed it and head out for my gate. It must have been a half-mile of walking, unpacking, standing in spread eagle position, and re-packing and more walking before I finally got there. By then I was hungry, thirsty, and extremely tired. And although the airport had as many people as I've seen mid-day racing down the walkway, not a single restaurant or store within sight was open.
I was too tired to care. I just needed some sleep. I tried not to think about my hunger or thirst. So I straddled some airport seats to try to catch a quick nap. But I quickly found the seats were designed by evil corporate managers to have hard sharp metal armrests that jab you in the back and sink into your flesh when you try to lay across them. I tried using my jacket to cushion it and it was just no good. But even as I laid there, too tired to let the shooting pain in my back dissuade me from sleeping the TVs came on.
"CNN Headline News Late Breaking Stories" blasted loud enough to shut out the flight announcements that would occasionally boom throughout the airport. And since that day was the anniversary of 3 years in Iraq, the news covered nothing but action packed scenes from Iraq with bombs going off and bullets shooting and quotes from Bush. It was like rusty nails being hammered into my ears, as if the metal spike in my back was not enough.
I tossed and turned trying to find a spot that didn't hurt so bad in hopes sleep could overcome all that was holding it back. But to add insult to injury, once the news of Iraq had finally ended, the only other thing they could think to talk about was, "And now our continuing series on Sleep Deprivation..." where they continued on to describe in detail how all my organs would eventually fail because I hadn't slept enough. I prayed for anything else to come on so I could try to shut out the worry creeping into my consciousness causing my concerns to pace back and forth inside my head. And that's when the news repeated starting again with Iraq and visuals of bombs, bullets, and Bush.
I knew then that I was in hell.
The hours passed like a LJ journal entry that wouldn't end, but finally they called for boarding. I collected my gear and dragged them to the back of the line which wrapped around the gate entrance and out into the airport walkway. Apparently I could no longer move as fast as everyone else. "That's alright." I thought to myself, "I'll just catch my sleep on the flight itself." I looked at the ticket proud that I had landed a window seat where I could shut the window and rest.
As I stood out there I heard them announce that people with baby carriages were invited to board first. I stood in horror as half the line I was in, got out of line, and proceeded to board. By the time they had finished boarding, I found myself at the front of the line. I gulped a dry knot in my throat as I handed the attendant my ticket and proceeded to board. I was thirsty, hungry, and unbelievably tired.
"My luck can't be that bad." I thought to myself. "With all the things that have gone wrong, I should get lucky at least once." It was an unanswered prayer because as I shuffled down the thin isle between the rows of seats what I saw horrified me.
The front of the plane was empty, the back of the plane was empty and the middle of the plane was packed with nothing else but kids of various ages below five and there trapped against the window was a single bare seat. I looked at my ticket with a hand that shook as if I had Parkinson's and there on my ticket was an unmistakable, "Seat: 18A".
I chuckled, that kind of chuckle you get when you realize your life is reenacting a poorly written sitcom. But then the funny went away as I loaded my bag in the overhead compartment and took my seat behind a kid standing on the airport seat as if it were a stool wearing a T-Shirt with "Fear Factor Live" advertised in bright yellow. I tried not to think it, but I did anyway, "I'm in hell."
And as I took my seat and the sound of the buckle clicked in my ears like the way a revolver chamber of a gun must do before you get executed, the seat was kicked forward and a whine of a young pissed off kid echoed in my ears and that distinctly foul sour milk vomit smell blew past my nose.
My eyes must have been bloodshot but they started to water with tears in the knowledge that I wouldn't get any sleep on that flight because I knew exactly what it would be like. Because, it was the flight from hell.
Today I head off for PPMP
in thrilling Orlando Florida (that's PawPet MegaPlex for the uninitiated). But my mind is not really on the trip or even the FurCon I planed to enjoy while out there.
What I'm spending my time thinking about is a few furs looking for a place to live near where I live. They're looking to start a new Fur House where they and anyone else who'll contribute will be welcome to live.
Moving is never easy. And if you're moving to Orange or LA County, like these furs, it can be downright shocking how much rent costs. So the challenge I'm being faced with is finding a place that a few furs can live for a long time with the traditional "crap wages" we tend to get.
I've already been looking for days. Even spent some time driving around Torrance and Garden Grove (two areas of interest) looking for more. But I'm not a realtor and I fear that I might not be able to finish in time.
If I don't get a place for them by the start of April, it could spell financial doom for at least one of my new friends.
And that's something I'm not about to let happen.
For any who might be interested, I recently posted the pictures from several furry events for all to see. |
There are no thumbnails as of yet, and each picture is around 1.5 megs, but if you have the bandwidth or wanted to see some of these events it's available.
High Desert Fur Meet 2-4-06
Universal Studios Fur Meet 12-10-05
And more to come later.
|» Helping till it hurts...|
Ouch.. Forgive me if this entry is a little screwed up but I'm still hung over from last night/morning's help a fur in need-a-thon. |
I'm not bitching, I'm actually pretty proud. You see, in the past 24 hours I've driven over 300 miles all over Southern California, I've helped a total a four furs find joy for their valentines day holiday, and I partied long enough for my body to kick itself in the ass till it hurts. And I loved every moment of it.
There are people out there that'll tell you to give and be the beacon of your little community. But when they encourage it, they make sure everyone knows their giving and they announce it like they're trying to drum up support for the most giving egotistical person award. You also get people that say that giving is a responsibility of those that have something more than someone else.
I'm neither. I believe that giving should be done for its own reasons. You give to help someone. Period. Not for praise, not so that they'll like you, and not so that you'll like yourself. Give when someone you actually care about could actually use some help. And when you do give, if at all possible, make it as anonymous as you can. Expect NOTHING in return. The best giving person will be like lady luck. She can be sweet, but everyone knows that her cycles are more hay-wire than a bi-polar speed addict. She can turn bitch so fast you'd swear she has multiple personality disorder.
People need to make their own lives. If you help them too much, you end up hurting them. That why the best way to help someone is to make them believe they're not being helped at all.
Why am I even putting all this down at all? Well, I had fun and this is my day. And, me being the way I am, I'm half afraid if I don't at least write it down somewhere I'll forget it myself. Besides, I know no one reads this journal, and even if they do, is not like I can hide it. Hell, I drove four furs around. They saw me, talked to me, watched my little in-drive movies on my iPod. Can't hide this one.
Er... uh, I knew I was planning to say what happened; I just sort-of went on a tangent. Sorry.
So anyway, down here in Orange County California we have this furry get-together every month or so near where I live and this time the theme was going to be Valentine's day. I thought it was important to get as many furs together as possible for this get-together, especially today. So when somefur posted on the message board that they needed a ride, I thought it was only right that I let them know that if they couldn't find a ride that I'd do it for them.
Well, one thing led to another and next thing I know I'm suddenly scheduled to drive several furs from several corners of LA and Orange County. The only problem was their distance from each other and they all had to be at the same party at the same time. I did the math and it turned out each fur would spend about an hour to an hour and a half in the car at a time. So I planned ahead and loaded my iPod with the latest season of Drawn Together and bought one of those CD to Stereo cassette tapes so I could play it on my car's sound system.
We had a blast the whole way up and back. Oh, I didn't actually watch myself. I was driving, after all. But I could hear it and everyone else laugh. I just played it over in my mind as I drove. Probably shouldn't have gone that far though as I kept missing my turn-offs. I didn't get back until 4:30am which would make it a 21 hour day for me. I'm getting old, I can't do those kinds of hours anymore. But I sure loved trying.
*phew* Well, I got that load off my chest. This had to of been the best fur party I've been to in years, and most of the best stuff didn't even happen at the party. I'm glad to of helped out so much to those furs, but if the pounding of my head is any indication, I'll think I'll have to tone it back a bit next time.
|» Bee sting|
Today I found out I'm not allergic to bees by getting a real world test, directly to my face.|
The story is simple; Out walking the dog. Dog sees some fuzzy critter run for a bush. Dog runs for the bush. Out of the bush comes a tiny cloud of insects. Tiny insects circle dog. Dog and owner are chased away batting invisible heat seeking pigmi darts zapping at every exposed area.
Even fur was no defense against these bastards.
Bee stings happen, and although it does suck, that's not what concerns me. Its these new Africanized bees that have been invading the U.S. recently. Have you heard about these? These bees freely cross our border and start to "infect" our european bees and all of a sudden, these every day honey bees become mean mothers.
They wont just sting you if you get close to a hive or if you disturb it, they'll attack if you so much as look at one funny or if you happen to be in the way when one goes by. And if you're targeted by one, and there are others near-by, they'll come out after you in force. Soon you'll have the whole buzz light-year brigade after your ass to sting you to infinity and beyond.
What the hell could be affecting our bees so much that they become little kamikaze nazis? Is there some reincarnation of hitler buzzing around trying to start Bug War 3? Are they just pissed off about Bush's international policy?
Whatever the reason, something needs to be done about these things. Someone needs to find out exactly why european bees are so easy to insight hatred in and why they don't like us so we can stop more attacks from happening.
|» First Post|
The first-time is almost always the worst time, so I'm going to keep this short.|
Is that short enough?