Below, in order from the bottom up is the last 6 months of journal entries. I just don't have the stamina to keep journals in 2 places and I usually end up masturbating whenI come to this site. Besides, SG is starting to look all mainstream, more and more makeup, glossy glitzy cheese, tons of shaving of the pubes.... everything I wanted from SG seems to be falling by the wayside. Us hairyness lovers in the Hirsute group seem to be running out of on- site material, and I seem to be running out of patience digging through so many sets to be dissapointed time after time, finding them all bare shaven or heavily trimmed. Bitch, bitch, bitch.... Well, I guess with growth and expansion come sacrifices. If only they were mostly or half hirsute, a black and white set here and there, more industrial/ abandoned building, gothic, spooky settings, and some 1940's, 50's, and some 60's clothing.
Oh well, looks like I'll be starting a new thread.

Friday, November 17, 2006


Ever had your car broken into? I have...
Current mood: angry

Ok, while I was at work at the YP today, some fucking waste of human life piece of shit broke into my truck via the back sliding window. I came out there getting ready to hop in and go to welding classes, only to find a bunch of broken glass and all my shit strewn about. I didn't have anything "valuable" in there... only stuff that was valuable to me, like my motherfucking lug wrench and special socket adapter that takes off an anti theft lugnut on my wheels! So now I've got to worry about the assfucks stealing my wheels too. And to mention I'm FUCKED if I get a flat. I wanted to kill the bastards. When I walked out I saw 2 shabbily dressed black guys walking through the alley, and said they saw 2 guys of the same description run out the alley "that way". I grabbed one of my steel pipes and went "that way" and found 2 guys of that description headed my way, told them what happened, and asked if they knew anthing about that. Obviously they denied any knowledge in a way that seemed suspicious to me. Fuck that, all 4 of them seemed sketchy and crackheadish. The first two probably moreso, because when I grabbed the pipe, they were like, "yeah, fuck the bullshit, take care of business!", cheering me on, yet sounding on the verge of mockery. for all I know all 4 could have been in cahoots. I called the cops, probably a waste of my time unless they catch the 2 guys they say are responsible for a lot of this going on. I left a lot of burnt rubber on the way back home. Some streetperson was crossing the tracks on the other side of the road was loudly speaking nonsense, sounding as though he had just gotten through with a bullshit shouting match. This added to my extreme irritation, and I couldn't take it, I had to lean out the window and shout, "Shut up, you looney fucking bitch!" as loud as I could. And let me say again that I left a lot of burnt rubber on the way home, and I have never floored this truck as hard as I did today. Sounded like a dragster.
In other news, I ground off a hunk of flesh in welding today, from my left thumb, with a sanding flap wheel. It's probably gonna take a long time to heal, since it was like an 1/8th" deep. I'm going to look at it for the first time since bandaging it when I'm done typing.

Sunday, October 29, 2006


Pilsner Urquell and other Random things...
Current mood: sleepy

I want to share that I've decided that Pilsner Urquell is my favorite beer in the whole world right now. I got in a fender bender yesterday. Coming home from work, I was pissed off and stressed out. Someone turned right, and I couldn't forsee the person in front of them was gingerly making an immediate left turn after that, so I couldn't stop in time, and with the wet roads, having been raining all day, I broke traction hard and sent that guy into a bus stop sign. His trunk wouldn't close, minimal bumper damages on either end, and I need a new front bumper, and either bodywork to my front fender or a new one, and some plastics if wanna make it the way it was like a perfectionist. Thanks to Autumn, though, I had a good time tonight, especially with the infomercial on bowel movements and colon cleansing, and the misinterpreted lyrics book.
Joel

Monday, September 18, 2006


Feeling Better
Current mood: accomplished

So those of you who read my last blog know I got $6 stolen from the tip jar yesterday. And you would know that I felt I redeemed my karma at the record store after that. Well, today at work, we realized we had a jar that you can't reach your hand into, and started using that. It's taller and has more presence on the countertop, also. Well, that good karma kept rolling in today, I got $21 in tips, which is huge for 4-1/2 hours at the Yogurt Pump. Not only that, but $7 of it appeared in the form of a $5 and two $1's folded together. So if you lose some, you don't let it get you down, and if you have faith, you gain some interest, I guess.
In other news, I finished my cool shelf that you can view in my pictures. In the photos, it is bare plywood, but over the last few days I've added trim, filled the dents, sanded the hell out of it, primed it, sanded the hell out of it some more, painted it, and brought it home from my parent's house where I had been working on it. I'll get some photos of the completed shelf in here, but I may just go ahead and build my retro reproduction boomerang coffee table with boomerang patterned formica before the next photo shoot. Stay tuned!
Joel

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Part 3: What the hell is a weekend?
Current mood: Was mad, now glad

It started friday. I was scheduled with 2 very new people. As some of you may know, we get realy fucking busy on Friday nights. So needless to say, that was shitty. Big scheduling mistake. I can't recount all the little things that go with training 2 people as you are working a line out the door. Questions about how to do everything at least every 5 minutes, so I couldn't and didn't eat anything the whole shift. So my body was enraged with me about that, making me extremely irritable.
Then on saturday, there was a footbal game. Apparently nobody could decide whether they wanted frozen yogurt or football game. We had a line out the door at 11:30. I locked the door, cutting off everybody on the outside. They kept coming, and I kept turning them away and letting people out. It's amazing how stupid people can be, wanting to get their way in spite of hard working people. A lot of these customers are spoiled bitches who have never had a job in their life. One group outside said they'd pay double. They obviously don't know how to tip. Another idiot was yelling an order for her friend inside to get for her. I yelled so they couldn't hear each other. I felt like I was walking on thin ice, and that if anyone said any fighting words to me, it would be all over for them.
And now today, I had to open. Getting up at 10 am is no more fun after a fucked up weekend than otherwise. So obviously I was running on 3 hours of sleep and some adrenaline. Now get this: some fucking fuck stole my tips today! I had about $6 in there, and without seeing a single shady character, it dissapeared! I ended up only making another dollar. I remember sort of recently that a co-worker also had this happen, and actually had a guy from TJ's help her out and track one of the guys down and get some of it back, and then after she left, I made about $10 tips in an hour. By the way, that's like a night's worth of tips for us, we don't rely on them as heavily as a waitress or waiter would. Finally, before my nap after work, I went by Nice Price books, and found a whole bunch of new arrivals in used records. I found The Kinks: The file series, which basically has every song I could want on it, Bob Dylan Highway 61 revisited because I don't own any Dylan, and The Yardbirds: Shapes of Things which is another comprehensive best of compilation, because I don't know much about the yardbirds. Now I was about to check out, but a bunch of old wookworm ladies were at the counter, and I wanted to take my time because I knew the person working, and had hung out with her briefly the previous night after work. So I decided to browse around a little more and picked up a shirt. Then I figured it wouldn't hurt to go up to the new arrivals one more time, and BAM! I found the Link Wray: and his Ray Men swan singles collection '63-'67 double-album released by Sundazed! I was this close *holds fingers very close together* to buying it for $25+ at CD Alley, and got it for $10! This is the silver lining to the tips getting stolen, and I'll be damned if I'll let petty crap like that take away my joy!

Saturday, September 16, 2006


The Truck is ok!

So I've fixed it. It's been a while since I have, but I thought I would tell evereyone the story, since I finally got my internet conection back after that power outage.
So I had it towed to my house that day that I got all wet and mad about it not being the fuel filter. When I finally had enough time, I ordered a fuel pump after pretty much diagnosing the problem as such, as well as a K&N air filter for kicks. So I unbolted the truckbed on the day I had about 4 hours to spare, and propped it up at an angle with a 2x4. I read my Chilton manual about this sort of thing, which strangely only covered the carburated models of s-10's, but finally I found a page that covered the removal of the lock ring, which is present on all s-10 gas tanks. I figured out how to remove it, and I did. As I was replacing the fuel pump, realized I needed the "sock", or filter that attaches to the in-tank fuel pump itself, and not only made it to the parts store within 15 minuted of closing, but they actully HAD it! (nothing like not having to leave a 20 gallon tank of gas exposed overnight!) So I got it done, bolted the bed back down using half the number of bolts (4), and I greased them for easy removal later, and it started right up. I SCREAMED for joy, as this had been a hard week, let alone the automotive troubles. YES!!
Joel

September 01, 2006


Fateful Days part II:

Today was no better than tuesday. I think it was just slower paced and very uncomfortable, physically and mentally. The truck is still broken down, and I am more frustrated, not by that, but by the combination of rain, an unsucessful parking lot truck repair, the following towing charge, and a lack of emotional support from anyone, whether or not the truck breakdown had happened. The vehicle breaking down just helps to highlight that.
My Father is unwilling to use the auto insurance loophole that, according to the company, "as long as your son only drives the car occasionally, with your permission, he is insured and does not have to be added to the policy." My Father acts as though the insurance company is "Big Brother", watching us all the time, and he is very unwilling to allow me to use it even in this occasion of automotive hardship.
So I rounded up my wrench set and went to the auto parts store first, on my scooter in the rain. Not too wet yet. Than when I went to change the fuel filter, in hopes that it was the culprit, since I had determined via starting fluid, that it was a fuel supply issue. Not only a big headache to change, but with how hard the rain was coming down, I may as well have just jumped in a swimming pool with all my clothes on. After lots of neck strain, raindrops in the eyes, and gas in the hair, I finally got it done, and Presto!, it still didn't start. Then, soaking, I proceeded to scoot to Ace Hardware for a bottle of "Heet", fuel system water remover. The A/C in there, combined with my state of wetness about chilled me to the bone. Got back, poured it in, shook the truck around so as to mix it with the fuel, and still nothing but "Crank, crank, crank, crank, crank." Still soaking, I ride all the way to the nearest State Employees Credit Union, clear across town. Air conditioning killing me again, I told Ron, my favorite teller and resident jokester, that he shall adress me as "his wetness." I'm still shining a glint of humor through the misery at this point, keeping in mind that what I then classified as misery, people in torture chambers would do anything to have instead. I cash my check, ride back, and call a tow truck to take my truck back to my house for me to work on. I ride home to meet him, and take my first hot shower in a long time, as in the heat and humidity, I've preferred lukewarm for a while now. I pay my $65 fee, and call in to school to explain why I'll be late. I ride quickly in my new dry clothing through a lighter rainfall this time, to my parents' house to borrow the car.
School was fine, I did my second day of MIG welding, which I prefer very much to stick as I explained in my last blog. Another cool thing I realized about it this time is how to adjust wire feed settings and amperage to help me out. Last time I just went with the settiungs they gave me, but let me say my welds were much prettier this time after playing around with the machine's settings. Another nice thing was being able to drive a smoothly acelerating newer car down the highway without the fear of it falling to pieces.
I got back into town and did $20 worth of grocery shopping. Then I went back to parents' house to drop the car off, and talked to Dad for a while about him possibly helping me out replacing the fuel pump tomorrow. I headed home on the scooter.
When I got home, I saw my brother's bike locked to the porch. "Great!" I thought, "He'll cheer me up, I just know it." Well, I put my groceries away, and looked around, and he was downstairs in Mike's room. I go in, and I see him, Steve, and Mike, and Mike says something to the effect of I can't stay because of my drunken episode where I apparently talked shit and knocked over a beer. Well, I am guilty of that charge, but I am also very pissed off at this point, not at him, but just the situation. Coming home in need of moral support, seeing that my Bro, Jesse is there, and then getting the cold shoulder. He barely said as much as hello to me. So all that piling up on me at that moment, I left rather abruptly. When asked how school was, I just told him I'd tell him about it in a room I was allowed to be in, and walked out. There are other things that I can't mention here that factor in to why coming home to this scene deeply troubles me.
So there you have it. Hardship is good for you. Hey, at least I can afford to EAT!

August 30, 2006


I think of days like these as "fateful" rather than "bad"
Current mood: drained

As I left for work at the Yogurt Pump today, I was in the usual frenzy to make sure I had everything with me, not only for work, but for welding classes at ACC. Namely, enough food. I saw my motocross helmet hanging on the handlebars of the Zuma and thought, "I don't have time to put that inside, it won't rain, anyway." Well, as the old adage goes, when it rains, it pours.
I went to work, my spot was blocked by a huge dump truck. Unusual and frustrating. I went to the other entrance to the alley. Blocked by yet another huge dump truck! I went to merge back into the lane I had just pulled over from, and the passenger in the van that was passing me gave me a dirty look, like "who taught you to drive?". So I nervously parked in the church lot across the street where I'd been instructed to park in case of emergencies like this, locking my keys in behind me. We were slow, and I had an hour and a half overlap time with my co-worker. So we eventually got permission for me to fo home for an hour to work on my cool carpentry project. I had to force open my back window to get the keys out of the truck. Good thing I don't have a truck cap, or this would be impossible. I worked a little bit of wood, cleaned up, got back and only had to work for a couple hours. After that it's off to welding.
I obviously sweated gallons of water like I usually do on tuesdays, because on Tuesdays I do stick welding. Stick welding creates a lot of heat because you're melting a big thick rod of metal as opposed to small wire like on Thursdays when I do MIG, which feeds the tiny wire as you go. I struck an arc accidentally without my mask down, which many of you know causes potentially harmful exposure to an intense amount of UV light. I learned today that this can burn either the retina, the white of the eye (which can cause a bacterial infection in the eye, which feels like you have something in the eye), or both. No symptoms of either yet, hopefully that was not enough U.V. rays to cause harm. Sweated, welded, welded some more, rehydrated, ate, sweated, welded, welded some more, for about 4 hours.
I got into the truck, started it, and noticed the idle was a little rougher than usual. I know it's in need of a tune-up, the distributor cap is pretty old, as are the wires and plugs. That, and I have been pushing it pretty hard on the highway trying to get to class on time. I'm still trying to figure out what time I need to leave for school. So I make it all the way with no noticeable problems. The rain has made it's way out of the Graham area, where I was at class, to Chapel Hill. Pouring buckets like this, and it can't last very long. I pull into the Citgo on Airport road for something caffienated like I did last week. I get a DoubleShot, not the best, but it'll have to do. I basically chug it on the spot because they're so small. I get back into the truck quickly, as it's still pouring, and fire it up. But it just keeps cranking and cranking and cranking! Damn it, I'll have to wait this rain out. I see my "Service
Engine Soon" light on, but isn't that one always on? I know they all come on when you first turn the key, and then some of them go off. "Check Gauges" is on too, isn't that one always on, just to remind you to keep an eye on the oil pressure, temperature, gas gauge, and voltmeter? Whatever, I'll have to wait out the rain. It stops, and I check all the wires, making sure none are loose, including all spark plug wires. But if one of those were loose, it would just be missing on a cylinder. I check the one going from the coil to the distributor. It's tight. I am pretty much all out of ideas. I keep trying to start it. It's got a new battery and a fairly new starter, so it's cranking like a champ. Maybe that rattly catalytic converter finally clogged up. It has been rattling more, and with a different sound lately. I call my parent's house from inside. The line's busy. I call Jesse's cell, knowing he's online. He's not picking up. I even call my own house, where nobody picks up the phone, unless they check the caller ID and it's someone they want to talk to. That is, when they actually feel like checking it. Mike picks up! I ask if anyone's good to drive. "Nope, everyone here's pretty much smashed." Well, if there's one thing I can count on at 107 Cathy, it's for everyone to be too smashed to help me when I need them most. He hands the phone to Tony, who suggests a Taxi or hitchhiking. I opt for the taxi, and call one. I wait over a half hour for one, and decide to try starting it again. It still won't start, but a car pulls up, and although it is not marked as a taxi, for some reason I get a taxi-like feeling about it, which is especially odd since all reasoning would lead anyone to believe that it's an ordinary early 90's Olds "88". A portly man in foggy glasses gets out and curiously asks "car trouble?" He comes over, and assuming he knows something about cars, start listing off the things I think it could be. Catalytic converter finally clogged, fuel pump, ignition, etc.... But he admits knowing nothing about cars and that a jump start is as far as he could go. But he helps me out by cranking it over while I smell for fuel at the tailpipe. He starts reminiscing about 60's cars with V8's, where there was enough room in the engine compartment for you, your friend, and a case of beer to fit while you worked on it. I admitted also loving these cars to him, but also stated that things changed for a reasons like emissions and fuel efficiency. He had an interesting comeback, saying that as long as the oil companies had us all by the balls, anyway, and that we could have had alternative fuels years ago. Good point. I told him I had a taxi on the way, and went back into the gas station. The cashier who had given me the number for the taxi called to make sure they were on their way. They said they had, but the guy called me outside and offerend me a ride. The gas station lady asked if I'd like her to cancel the taxi, and I said "yes please, and thanks for your help." I buckled myself into the strange smelling interior of the Olds "88", and we took off down Airport Road. He fumbled with his smokes, almost ran a red light while taking one out, and swerved a little as he lit it. He started talking about how smoking was his only bad habit and he'd only smoke pot if it were legal. I shared with him how I had to quit because of panic attacks associated with the extremely high potency sinsemilla weed I had been occasionaly able to smoke. He said it was the THC that did that and explained that a lot of sinsemilla was known for having high amounts of thc in it. I agreed with him that the stuff with seeds in it was better for not getting one as panicked when smoking it. He told me it had more cannabinoids and these different cannabinoids made for different highs. He almost seemed to know just where to go and I told him where to go when he asked. I was going to my parent's house to work on that project some more. So I busted ass, by choice, on my project until about 3AM. I really put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into it this time, using the rasp to shape the curved saber saw cuts by hand. I know my grandfather Eggleton would have smiled down upone me, woodworking and all around handiness runs in my blood apparently. So after all this, I walked home to eat finally, and what do I find? My rainwater-filled motocross helmet, hanging just so on the handlebars of my motorscooter.

August 16, 2006 (later that day):

Cooking too...

One night recently, I was DJing at Fuse, the usual first sunday of the month, and I overheard my buddy Russel, the cook, talking about his going away party. I figured this was not a temporary going away, but more of a permanent thing, since there was a party. So I asked what was up with that, and he said he was moving back to Panama city, FL, where he came from. I immediately perked my ears to this and asked if there was anyone lined up to take his place. He said there wasn't, and he reccomended coming in the next night and asking Dave the bartender about the position. I have only worked at a Subway for a year when I was 16, so I was a little uncertain of my qualifications, but Dave always liked me as a patron and agreed with my point of view that "you've got to start somewhere". So the interview process went smoothly, I went through a period of self-doubt in my ability to handle a new 2nd job, the first job, and school. But realizing the students were coming back into town for that big Yogurt Pump busy period, I quickly rejected any doubts I had about making my entry into the commercial foodservice kitchen, or about the fact that I desperately needed a new challenge. So tonight I had my first full train, and it went amazingly well. Chad said I did a very good job, and I thought I did too, and I think this may be a serious career consideration. Thus begins the next chapter in the beautifully multifaceted life of Joel Thomas.

August 16, 2006
Welding!

So many of you know how good I am with building, repairing, and restoring things. Well, with a boost of confidence and feeling good about myself thanks in part to my former most recent lover, I decided to improve and back up those talents with some real credentials. I decided to take welding classes. I figured also that should I ever want to move to Portland, Oregon, where my big sister lives, I would also benefit from a trade. This was made even more important by the fact that I heard from a trainhopping lesbian who came through town from there that their unemployment rate is rather high. This blog comes much later than the news of me actually taking the initiative to follow through with this, but I figured it would make sense to archive this event before any other recent cool events, so as to remain in chronological order.
So there you have it, folks, Joel begins to learn skills that may take him somewhere someday. But more importantly, skills that are undeniably essential to him following the path he has been walking all along... that of creativity. And if we learned anything from Napoleon Dynamite, girls only go out with guys who have good skills.