the last forty-eight hours: es wird eng

forty eight hours ago was the evening of sunday, in which laundry was done.
sunday began with laundry and ended with laundry.

sunday morning i attended a graduation reception at the catholic church with the pariah of nazarene land, with the the coolest rock-n-roll pariah chick in homophobic bible land.

by monday princess charming was duking it out with the pariah-chick's enemy hit list.

the "dress like a man" patrol zoomed up on prince charming to police a hairstyle of yore.
princess charming intoned some homophobic chanting, much to prince charming and my disgruntled dissent.

prior to requesting me to "beat me with a hose" via telephony,
mother threatened to deck prince charming if he keeps making my life hell. that was yesterday.

incidentally, i hate it when mother asks me to beat her. her father used to beat my grandmother mary kangas. incidntly ransom's stocks were garbled and it was his fault he kept his CIA cash in obscurity, until she unravelled what was left after enron, or something, as in, it was it was *his* fault, or some post CIA trauma blur thing.

other than her gambling on stocks and making her 10k a day for a spree.

most surely ransom's death did not put me in the mood for wall street casinos, but i'm not a capricorn, stirred easily by the mathematics of money.

sunday 3:30 pm prince charming broke into the "apartment" as the satellite CIA lady* shouted her orders.
i believed i called law enforcement, who think it's fine to break into women's windows, as long as the vandals are 29.

*she communicates her messages from the front porch to the satellites. topics include: the obamas, lyndsey lohan, paula abdul, the police, rape.

i was explained that the the satellite CIA lady believes she works for the CIA and communicates with them via her conversations she conducts from the front porch.

i asked her to have coffee with me, she says she's not allowed.

i rather like her.

i intoned: "i won't tell the KGB" to tense laughter from her informants.

on sunday i told her "great work today" as i believe her open air CIA satellite theater drove my friend over the edge.

prince charming attended the evening laundry, and his sister princess charming scolded him for the futility of his cruelty to me.
upon arrival home his eyes were dilated like METH EYES.

by monday he was meeting the brave force on the haunted land.
by tuesday he met them again.
wednesday is yet unknown.

beyond forty eight hours:
last monday i took the pariah-chick to court.
thursday night princess charming filled the pariah-chick's refrigerator with food.
friday was a long drive.
saturday two trips to visit the inlaws.
saturday, a strange face-to-face with corey darwin johnson, electric-guitar weilding homicidal maniac, with a silence of the lambs scramble in his aura, who was admitted to Ocean Beach hospital Sunday on a mental hold where he escaped to his meth dealer at meth haven, and i had tea with his girlfriend stephanie, as Window Breaking Prince Charming ranted and raved elsewhere.

amazingly, i spoke with her about Scientology, and him, i think as well. i spoke with the  killer about it. engrams and such.

princess charming rolled up to meet her brother's killer's girlfriend chatting with me.
just prior to that ted berardinelli's wife anna drove by. i asked how are you? she said: i've seen better days.
http://www.leagle.com/decision/19891004769P2d235_1985.xml/STATE%20v.%20BERARDINELLI

when anna found out i blog, she said, don't blog about methlehem, meaning the yellow building on sixth and Washington, where john osborne sells meth around julie nyberg's son rilen, cousin of the Princess Charming's kids, or half-brother of Princess Charming's sister's daughter.
where johnathan rilley beats a woman.
where armed gunmen make runs.
where angela sells pills.

i said to anna on sunday: it's nice to see you. she said "yeah, yeah."
of course it is, she's cool as hell despite dating this gun silencermeth-dealer by a school kind of dude who she scream-matches all night.
he is a mild-mannered grey beard guy, when he's not screaming at her behind closed doors.
where her bruises come from is a mystery and she won't tell.
she won't call crisis support because he is a felon.
http://eastpdxnews.com/fire-and-police/sheriff-offices-raid-busts-creston-home-based-meth-lab/

joe winter, the owner was in on the dope in Prince Charming's opinion, why else would he run methlehem? money?

Prince Charming's very good when you need a rant or a rave, but the constant stacatto does un-nerve even reckless me, eventually.

saturday was a trip to explain the fire chief crackdown to the enemy of the pariah-chick.

the satellite CIA lady was elated to see Chief of Police Wright on his first Meth Haven checkin 5-6-14 at the "apartment" for a little fatherly consultation regarding Prince Charming, aka Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

he was kind to get the whole "Gun Silencer" thing in the Meth Dealer BERARDINELLI by a school hideout thing.

ten days or so of relative angelicness followed.

and then Thursday, as the Fire Chief declared the water heater at Meth Haven illegal, a strenuous day of baby-sitting, head injuries due to clumsiness, led me to instruct Princess Charming of Prince Charming's dangerousness around the children.

he did careful double duty taking pro bono photographs for the fire chief, but i'll be damned if i don't find a stronger hammer of justice than creepylandlord.blogspot.com or trespassing at blue dolphin.
i may be no mark twain, but there is some human interest herein, among the living, less the dead.

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