7:47 a.m. I mowed the lawn yesterday afternoon. After a month I figured it was time. When the neighbors started glaring at me a couple of weeks ago I would just yell to them, "It's okay! I'm waiting for it to go to seed!" Smile. Wave.
So, good citizen that I am, I was out there for 4 hours using the death trap lawn mower I have had for 10 years. The kind that you actually have to push. I have had to devise some ingenius repairs over time. Like the clothes hanger to keep the power supply thingy attached to the engine thingy. And then the handle...it occasionally flies off while I am mowing. I wasted a half hour of sunlight yesterday searching the grass for the bolt and screw. So far I haven't been impaled by little lawn mower missles.
So, I am still trying to write the perfect love song. I was thinking of lyrics while I was mowing. I think it inspired me.
You've mowed up my affection,
And spit it out.
But the clippings of my heart,
Will fertilize your
Prize-winning lawn of love.
Pretty good, huh? Huh? Shania Twain and Clint Black would be all over that baby.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Monday, June 06, 2005
6/6/05a
10:22 a.m. Well, what do you know. I am on surveillance with the same lady from Saturday. I just got film of a guy who pulled into the lot and got out with a video camera. He took footage of the front door and the call box. I believe that my client has hired another PI company to run this case. I narrow my eyes. He is a big, burly guy. Looks like a biker. Lots of blue jailhouse type tattoos and long black hair. He scans the area as he walks back to his minivan and gets in. I run his plate. Comes back to a Franko DeMario. Lives in Rockford. Huh. Well, Franko. May the best PI win. I already got her vital stats and some film of her on Saturday.
Franko pulls out of the spot he was in and backs into a space one over from me. Ha ha. He doesn't even know I'm here...spying on him as he spies on MY Subject. Oh, the irony.
10:35 a.m. Franko is gone. Guess he's running a "loose" surveillance. (i.e. He will be coming back every hour to get some footage before taking off again.) Tsk, tsk, tsk. Shoddy. I just did a search on him and got all sorts of juicy info. Do you think I should call him and tell him I've got a package to deliver to his home? Ha ha ha.
Franko pulls out of the spot he was in and backs into a space one over from me. Ha ha. He doesn't even know I'm here...spying on him as he spies on MY Subject. Oh, the irony.
10:35 a.m. Franko is gone. Guess he's running a "loose" surveillance. (i.e. He will be coming back every hour to get some footage before taking off again.) Tsk, tsk, tsk. Shoddy. I just did a search on him and got all sorts of juicy info. Do you think I should call him and tell him I've got a package to deliver to his home? Ha ha ha.
6/6/05
7:41 a.m. Back a few months ago I had to take a statement regarding a disability claim. My Subject was not only a lawyer, he was a medical malpractice lawyer. He was not only a medical malpractice lawyer, he was an angry medical malpractice lawyer. The first time I called him to set up an appointment, I barely said hello before he started complaining to me about how long it was taking for his claim to come through. I attempted to set up an appointment for a statement and he flat out refused... saying he was not obligated to provide a statement, just his medical bills and diagnoses. He was absolutely right. Tricky, clever lawyer. So, I tried to joke around with him a bit and his response was deadpan. "I don't appreciate you laughing at my pain and suffering." Oh, man. Time to get off the phone before I get my company and the insurance company sued.
I figure that I am done with that case and I send in an update advising to terminate the investigation on Lawyer Boy. A half hour later, Lawyer Boy calls me back and says that he changed his mind and would provide a statement. I set up an appointment with him for the following day.
I arrive at Lawyer Boy's house with my computer and printer. He answers the door. Is it my imagination or does he look like a rat? I am waiting for him to wrinkle his nose and twitch his whiskers... maybe grab a handful of sunflower seeds and look around nervously as he chews. His wife walks in and looks at him contemptuously. She smiles at me and offers a drink or some refreshments. A perfect hostess with thinly veiled hostility. I don't think it's directed at me, though. She seems to be angry with Lawyer Boy. She indicates that it has been difficult financially and otherwise because her husband isn't working as much. "Please, help him get back to work. He's driving me crazy." I think she is kidding at first, but she is not smiling. Wow.
Lawyer Boy tells me he has to use a cane, but not in the house. I look around and see physical therapy equipment lying out in plain sight...almost as if it was staged. He sits down at the table and we begin the interview. He talks a lot. Good thing I'm a fast typist. I try to keep him on track as he likes to go on indignant tangents about being treated like a criminal and he paid his premiums for years so he's entitled to this payout...blah blah blah. He tells me that he is in pain every day. "In fact, as we speak my left leg has shooting pains that are making it difficult for me to concentrate." He winces. So do I.
Two hours later, I am finished. I wipe my sweaty brow and hit the print button on my word processor. As it's printing, Lawyer Boy suddenly balks. "I am not signing that thing. I've been here for two hours and I'm too tired to read it over and make sure it's accurate. Besides, I'm on pain medication. See?" He drops his pants and shows me a narcotic patch on his left buttock. Huh. I didn't need to see that.
Tricky, crafty, clever lawyer. Even if he DID sign the statement at this point it would be moot. He is on drugs and so none of the horse pucky he's been spewing at me over the past two hours is worth diddly in a legal sense. I am not liking Lawyer Boy. But I have to say I have a newfound respect for his capacity for evil.
That is not the end of the story with Lawyer Boy. He comes back to haunt me a few months later, but I'll tell that story some other time.
I figure that I am done with that case and I send in an update advising to terminate the investigation on Lawyer Boy. A half hour later, Lawyer Boy calls me back and says that he changed his mind and would provide a statement. I set up an appointment with him for the following day.
I arrive at Lawyer Boy's house with my computer and printer. He answers the door. Is it my imagination or does he look like a rat? I am waiting for him to wrinkle his nose and twitch his whiskers... maybe grab a handful of sunflower seeds and look around nervously as he chews. His wife walks in and looks at him contemptuously. She smiles at me and offers a drink or some refreshments. A perfect hostess with thinly veiled hostility. I don't think it's directed at me, though. She seems to be angry with Lawyer Boy. She indicates that it has been difficult financially and otherwise because her husband isn't working as much. "Please, help him get back to work. He's driving me crazy." I think she is kidding at first, but she is not smiling. Wow.
Lawyer Boy tells me he has to use a cane, but not in the house. I look around and see physical therapy equipment lying out in plain sight...almost as if it was staged. He sits down at the table and we begin the interview. He talks a lot. Good thing I'm a fast typist. I try to keep him on track as he likes to go on indignant tangents about being treated like a criminal and he paid his premiums for years so he's entitled to this payout...blah blah blah. He tells me that he is in pain every day. "In fact, as we speak my left leg has shooting pains that are making it difficult for me to concentrate." He winces. So do I.
Two hours later, I am finished. I wipe my sweaty brow and hit the print button on my word processor. As it's printing, Lawyer Boy suddenly balks. "I am not signing that thing. I've been here for two hours and I'm too tired to read it over and make sure it's accurate. Besides, I'm on pain medication. See?" He drops his pants and shows me a narcotic patch on his left buttock. Huh. I didn't need to see that.
Tricky, crafty, clever lawyer. Even if he DID sign the statement at this point it would be moot. He is on drugs and so none of the horse pucky he's been spewing at me over the past two hours is worth diddly in a legal sense. I am not liking Lawyer Boy. But I have to say I have a newfound respect for his capacity for evil.
That is not the end of the story with Lawyer Boy. He comes back to haunt me a few months later, but I'll tell that story some other time.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Saturday, June 04, 2005
6/4/05b
11:12 a.m. I call Subject's home with my delivery pretext and nobody answers. I leave a message on her voicemail. While I sit here wondering what to do next, a Suburban that was in the lot earlier this morning pulls back into its parking space. I pull out the camera and start filming, just in case. An older woman exits the vehicle. She's got curly dark hair and is 5'9" tall. She is slumped a bit and I notice that she has a limp. Could be her. If it IS her, I should be getting a call back in a few minutes about the delivery.
Sure enough, she calls me. So now I have a physical description, some Subject video, and a confirmation on the vehicle. I coordinate a day for a delivery and watch the building. I get a bonus. My girl opens the sliding glass door on a bottom floor apartment and steps out onto the porch. She sits in a rocking chair for a while.
11:38 a.m. She's starting to get suspicious. She went back inside several minutes ago and has come to the door twice to look out at my truck. Darn. This was the perfect spot. And I'm not finished watching Better Off Dead yet. As soon as she goes back inside, I turn off the movie and hustle into the front seat. I drive away and park several lots down at a different building. Looks like I'm going hiking for an outside surveillance position, folks. Hope I can find a nice, shady tree to climb.
Sure enough, she calls me. So now I have a physical description, some Subject video, and a confirmation on the vehicle. I coordinate a day for a delivery and watch the building. I get a bonus. My girl opens the sliding glass door on a bottom floor apartment and steps out onto the porch. She sits in a rocking chair for a while.
11:38 a.m. She's starting to get suspicious. She went back inside several minutes ago and has come to the door twice to look out at my truck. Darn. This was the perfect spot. And I'm not finished watching Better Off Dead yet. As soon as she goes back inside, I turn off the movie and hustle into the front seat. I drive away and park several lots down at a different building. Looks like I'm going hiking for an outside surveillance position, folks. Hope I can find a nice, shady tree to climb.
6/4/05a
10:33 a.m. Well, I follow "Subject" to a local hair salon where it appears she has an appointment. I go inside and stand in line behind her while the receptionist checks the book. When "Subject" says her name I curse under my breath. "Curses!" I say. "Subject" looks at me. I don't care if I draw attention to myself because this is the wrong lady. I turn around and walk out. I just tailed the wrong lady for a half hour.
I get back in my truck and drive back to the residence as soon as possible. When I return I am flabbergasted. Yes! That's right! Flabbergasted! There is only ONE car still in the lot of the six that were there earlier in the morning. In less than an hour the place has emptied out. Fortunately, the one car left in the lot is the one that I am hoping belongs to Subject. She is an older lady living alone on disability. The old Ford station wagon with the wood grain siding looks just right.
I call Subject's home number. No answer. Ugh. Now what?
I get back in my truck and drive back to the residence as soon as possible. When I return I am flabbergasted. Yes! That's right! Flabbergasted! There is only ONE car still in the lot of the six that were there earlier in the morning. In less than an hour the place has emptied out. Fortunately, the one car left in the lot is the one that I am hoping belongs to Subject. She is an older lady living alone on disability. The old Ford station wagon with the wood grain siding looks just right.
I call Subject's home number. No answer. Ugh. Now what?
6/4/05
9:09 a.m. I am set up outside of an apartment building 20 minutes from where I live. Nice not to have to go into Chi-Town on a case...even if I have to work the weekend. The original address I am sent to surveil has the wrong town listed. I spend a half hour scrambling to research and find the real residence. Turns out it's two towns over.
The building is secure and there is a call box outside that has my Subject's last name on it. No apartment number is listed by the call button, however. There are several vehicles in the parking lot, but the database I use to run DMV checks is down for some reason. In the absence of a physical description or photograph, this makes it difficult to pin point which resident is my Subject and whether she is even here.
I walk the parking lot and write down parking sticker numbers. I am not sure yet what I will do with them. Maybe if I can gain access to the apartment complexes database I can get some valuable info.
I am about to call my Subject to verify she is at the residence. It will be tricky as her number is unlisted and she has taken precautions to keep her vital stats private. I'll have to think of a good pretext.
Ah ha!!! I will kill two birds with one stone. I will call Subject saying that I think I may have accidentally hit her car in the parking lot and the front office gave me her number to inform her. I will quote a random sticker and license plate and give a fake car description to her. She will say it's not her and hopefully I can get her to indicate what she's driving. If not, I'll persuade her to at least come out and check her car.
More later.
The building is secure and there is a call box outside that has my Subject's last name on it. No apartment number is listed by the call button, however. There are several vehicles in the parking lot, but the database I use to run DMV checks is down for some reason. In the absence of a physical description or photograph, this makes it difficult to pin point which resident is my Subject and whether she is even here.
I walk the parking lot and write down parking sticker numbers. I am not sure yet what I will do with them. Maybe if I can gain access to the apartment complexes database I can get some valuable info.
I am about to call my Subject to verify she is at the residence. It will be tricky as her number is unlisted and she has taken precautions to keep her vital stats private. I'll have to think of a good pretext.
Ah ha!!! I will kill two birds with one stone. I will call Subject saying that I think I may have accidentally hit her car in the parking lot and the front office gave me her number to inform her. I will quote a random sticker and license plate and give a fake car description to her. She will say it's not her and hopefully I can get her to indicate what she's driving. If not, I'll persuade her to at least come out and check her car.
More later.
Friday, June 03, 2005
6/02/05a
8:32 a.m. The baby is OKAY! They took the little boy, probably about 18 months old, out to a waiting ambulence for several minutes for observation. They did not transport him. He exited the ambulence in his mother's arms with teary eyes and an ice pack on his head. So, happy ending. It's nice to see one that ends well.
The emergency vehicles have left the area and a man pulls up in front of my Subject's building. He is walking around the side of the row house and scanning the ground as if looking for something. He takes a set of keys and enters residence through the front door. The man fits the basic age criteria to be Subject, but when I run the plates on his car the name and address don't match up. The car is registered to an address two doors down. I wonder if this is the slumlord?
There is a man in baggy black jeans, red shirt, and a black jacket smoking a cigarette in the vacant lot next to me. He is trying to see in my windows. Perhaps a little too interested in my truck. I think that it's time to start a rolling surveillance.
NOTE: Slumlord is driving a pink Cadillac. No kidding.
The emergency vehicles have left the area and a man pulls up in front of my Subject's building. He is walking around the side of the row house and scanning the ground as if looking for something. He takes a set of keys and enters residence through the front door. The man fits the basic age criteria to be Subject, but when I run the plates on his car the name and address don't match up. The car is registered to an address two doors down. I wonder if this is the slumlord?
There is a man in baggy black jeans, red shirt, and a black jacket smoking a cigarette in the vacant lot next to me. He is trying to see in my windows. Perhaps a little too interested in my truck. I think that it's time to start a rolling surveillance.
NOTE: Slumlord is driving a pink Cadillac. No kidding.
6/3/05
4:30 a.m. I hit the snooze button three times this morning. I wake up uneasy. I know that I had bad dreams but can't remember what they were. Somebody has been dancing on my grave.
I'm back on the case from yesterday again. I highly doubt the client will want me out there all day if I can't ID the Subject. His name is common enough that there are four or five people in Chicago that might be "him". I may drive by a few of the locations when I get called to break off later on.
Next week should be interesting. I will be traveling. I am going down to Texas to run a really interesting case. Several investigators have tried to get information on this Subject before without success. I am going to pose as a potential parishener of a church that the Subject is supposedly the pastor for. That one should be fun. Especially since I think it is a pretty radical worship. I am hoping that I don't have to get bitten by a coral snake to get the story. After that case I'll be flying to the west coast to run a few cases out there. It will be a nice semi-vacation. I'm hoping to try my hand at surfing.
More later.
I'm back on the case from yesterday again. I highly doubt the client will want me out there all day if I can't ID the Subject. His name is common enough that there are four or five people in Chicago that might be "him". I may drive by a few of the locations when I get called to break off later on.
Next week should be interesting. I will be traveling. I am going down to Texas to run a really interesting case. Several investigators have tried to get information on this Subject before without success. I am going to pose as a potential parishener of a church that the Subject is supposedly the pastor for. That one should be fun. Especially since I think it is a pretty radical worship. I am hoping that I don't have to get bitten by a coral snake to get the story. After that case I'll be flying to the west coast to run a few cases out there. It will be a nice semi-vacation. I'm hoping to try my hand at surfing.
More later.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
6/2/05a
10:03 a.m. Subject's vehicle is not present at residence. The building is a brick row house with a secured key entrance. There is a mail slot along the side. A window on the second floor is cracked and a few strips of electrical tape are bandaging it up.
This is a one way street full of broken down row houses. There is an old man a couple of houses down sitting in a folding chair on the front porch. He doesn't seem to be doing anything other than chewing on a toothpick and watching traffic. I wonder if he does this every day.
I sent Hummer in with the nekked artist today. I compromised and let him be fully clothed, however. I don't know why I'm so nice to him. He tried to sabbatage me in his report last night. I guess he was mad that I forced him to mark the tires on Subject's vehicle yesterday and then *gasp!* made him get out of his vehicle to check out her backyard for activity. So in his report he described all I'd asked him to do and wrote something to the tune of, "Despite trespassing on private property and risking being observed by Subject, no activity was discovered."
After stomping my feet and sticking my tongue out at the computer screen, I took that portion out of his report and wrote him a scathing email about not using professional reports as his personal journal or a forum for venting his frustrations. We, as a rule, don't indicate to a client how we get our information. Generally speaking, they don't want to know. Don't ask, don't tell kinda deal... I sent the whole thing back to him to redo and told him that since he's been with the company longer than I have he should know how to write reports by now.
On a happier note, I have observed no less than three drug deals so far today. My plans for this afternoon are to get mugged, eat lunch at Arby's and go to the dentist.
This is a one way street full of broken down row houses. There is an old man a couple of houses down sitting in a folding chair on the front porch. He doesn't seem to be doing anything other than chewing on a toothpick and watching traffic. I wonder if he does this every day.
I sent Hummer in with the nekked artist today. I compromised and let him be fully clothed, however. I don't know why I'm so nice to him. He tried to sabbatage me in his report last night. I guess he was mad that I forced him to mark the tires on Subject's vehicle yesterday and then *gasp!* made him get out of his vehicle to check out her backyard for activity. So in his report he described all I'd asked him to do and wrote something to the tune of, "Despite trespassing on private property and risking being observed by Subject, no activity was discovered."
After stomping my feet and sticking my tongue out at the computer screen, I took that portion out of his report and wrote him a scathing email about not using professional reports as his personal journal or a forum for venting his frustrations. We, as a rule, don't indicate to a client how we get our information. Generally speaking, they don't want to know. Don't ask, don't tell kinda deal... I sent the whole thing back to him to redo and told him that since he's been with the company longer than I have he should know how to write reports by now.
On a happier note, I have observed no less than three drug deals so far today. My plans for this afternoon are to get mugged, eat lunch at Arby's and go to the dentist.
6/2/05
4:25 a.m. I wake up disoriented. I turned off the alarm clock and didn't even realize it. I should get a backup alarm and place it across the room so I have to get up to turn it off. But that would be sure to put me in a foul mood for the rest of the morning.
I get dressed in my usual tank top and workout pants. I grab a pair of heels and put them in my backpack. Never know when you'll need a nice pair of heels.
I'm in the inner city of Chicago today. I've got to leave in about 5 minutes in order to get there by 7am. This Subject lives in an apartment, which restricts my access to his residence and makes it harder to positively identify him. The client wants an update halfway through the day.
This case will not be easy because the client is forbidding telephone and physical contact. I will have to set up on his vehicle because I have no physical description other than age.
I drive to the Kwik Trip and pick up a sausage, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich, V8 juice, milk, a Marathon bar, and a Diet Mt Dew. (I took my vitamins last night, so it's real food for me this morning.)
More later.
I get dressed in my usual tank top and workout pants. I grab a pair of heels and put them in my backpack. Never know when you'll need a nice pair of heels.
I'm in the inner city of Chicago today. I've got to leave in about 5 minutes in order to get there by 7am. This Subject lives in an apartment, which restricts my access to his residence and makes it harder to positively identify him. The client wants an update halfway through the day.
This case will not be easy because the client is forbidding telephone and physical contact. I will have to set up on his vehicle because I have no physical description other than age.
I drive to the Kwik Trip and pick up a sausage, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich, V8 juice, milk, a Marathon bar, and a Diet Mt Dew. (I took my vitamins last night, so it's real food for me this morning.)
More later.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
6/1/05
7:30 a.m. I get a call from our boy, Hummer. He is outside the house of the nudist colony Subject. I told him to mark her tires yesterday afternoon so we could determine if she went anywhere later in the day. When I ask him whether her vehicle has been moved, he says that he was too busy doing record searches at the courthouse and the county assessor's office yesterday to come back and mark the tires. Unbelievable. I am wishing I was a pirate ship captain so I could have him flogged for insubordination. That's forty lashes for ye, ya swarthy scalawag! Right up the poop deck! ARRGH! Bend over and grab yer ankles!
I tell Hummer that the summer breeze and his nether regions will soon become well-acquainted.
I tell Hummer that the summer breeze and his nether regions will soon become well-acquainted.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
VOTE IN HUMMER POLL. NAKED OR NOT?
9:24 p.m. I just got the best news! The person that Hummer is surveilling out in rural Indiana owns and runs a NUDIST ARTIST'S COLONY!!! Ha ha ha!
How many of you think that I should send Hummer in to infiltrate their ranks?
I am so very tempted...
How many of you think that I should send Hummer in to infiltrate their ranks?
I am so very tempted...
5/31/05a
8:06 a.m. I forgot my bucket this morning and the Diet Mt. Dew and V8 juice are looming large. Curses. I look around for a suitable recepticle but all I have is said Mt. Dew bottle. I just got my truck shampooed out after the unfortunate results of last time this happened.
Hmmm. I consider my options. I could knock on a neighbor's door and ask to use their bathroom. I wonder to myself what I would do if somebody did that to me. I would probably give them a toiletpaper roll and point them to the bushes. The bushes. Not such a bad idea. Except for the indecent exposure thing.
My eyes land on the V8 bottle. Hmmmm. A plan is forming. What if I cut the top off the bottle and made it into a funnel? I could use Mt. Dew bottles to my heart's desire with no fear of spillage.
I am MacGyver.
Hmmm. I consider my options. I could knock on a neighbor's door and ask to use their bathroom. I wonder to myself what I would do if somebody did that to me. I would probably give them a toiletpaper roll and point them to the bushes. The bushes. Not such a bad idea. Except for the indecent exposure thing.
My eyes land on the V8 bottle. Hmmmm. A plan is forming. What if I cut the top off the bottle and made it into a funnel? I could use Mt. Dew bottles to my heart's desire with no fear of spillage.
I am MacGyver.
5/31/05
4:00am. After several days of sleeping in until 6:30am, I am bright-eyed. I still haven't unpacked from my trip home to visit the parents for the holiday and I pick through the dirty clothes trying to find the least offensive tank top and workout pants to wear. I really need to do some laundry.
6:24 a.m. I'm set up in a pretty nice neighborhood just north of Chicago. My Subject today is a 6'6" tall black man. Should be pretty easy to spot him, anyway. I am relieved when I arrive to see that two vehicles are blocking the garage. Good. That means that he won't be entering a vehicle where I can't take video of him.
I scour the area for places to set up outside. Two enormous pine trees in the yard next door would work. And a large hedge that lines the perimeter of the property. Very good. I wonder if I should drive along the next street over to see if I can get a good view of the backyard. If he's not active by 10:00am I will do just that.
Subject's house is in an elbow cul de sac. I park facing away from the residence, turn off my engine, and hop in the back of the truck. I take out one of those silver reflective vehicle interior protectors and place it in my windshield...just a little added insurance against prying eyes. Not that somebody won't call the cops on me, mind you. But at least they will be calling the cops because there is a strange car parked in the neighborhood, not because they see some lady peeing in the back of her truck.
There is no activity so I get out my bag-o-vitamins. I now take a grand total of 20 pills each morning. One multivitamin, two CLA (powerful antioxidant), two omega-3s, grape seed extract, green tea extract, lycopene, alpha lipoic acid, CO-Q-10, six potassium, 2 Prilosec (wonder why I have a bad stomach?), DMAE (good for your skin), and calcium.
Don't look at me that way. I know I have issues. I know you could feed an entire third world country with the amount of money I spend on supplements. I'm just quirky is all.
After my Vitameatavegamin™ breakfast, I am stuffed. I settle in with my guitar and wait.
6:24 a.m. I'm set up in a pretty nice neighborhood just north of Chicago. My Subject today is a 6'6" tall black man. Should be pretty easy to spot him, anyway. I am relieved when I arrive to see that two vehicles are blocking the garage. Good. That means that he won't be entering a vehicle where I can't take video of him.
I scour the area for places to set up outside. Two enormous pine trees in the yard next door would work. And a large hedge that lines the perimeter of the property. Very good. I wonder if I should drive along the next street over to see if I can get a good view of the backyard. If he's not active by 10:00am I will do just that.
Subject's house is in an elbow cul de sac. I park facing away from the residence, turn off my engine, and hop in the back of the truck. I take out one of those silver reflective vehicle interior protectors and place it in my windshield...just a little added insurance against prying eyes. Not that somebody won't call the cops on me, mind you. But at least they will be calling the cops because there is a strange car parked in the neighborhood, not because they see some lady peeing in the back of her truck.
There is no activity so I get out my bag-o-vitamins. I now take a grand total of 20 pills each morning. One multivitamin, two CLA (powerful antioxidant), two omega-3s, grape seed extract, green tea extract, lycopene, alpha lipoic acid, CO-Q-10, six potassium, 2 Prilosec (wonder why I have a bad stomach?), DMAE (good for your skin), and calcium.
Don't look at me that way. I know I have issues. I know you could feed an entire third world country with the amount of money I spend on supplements. I'm just quirky is all.
After my Vitameatavegamin™ breakfast, I am stuffed. I settle in with my guitar and wait.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
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