deadicated.org blog

    A friend of mine I use to go to the Dead with bought me a ticket to the Dark Star Orchestra playing out in Bergen County NJ on the 7th. She left a voicemail on Saturday but I didn’t receive it till today cause Verizon stinks and I’ve really had it with them and their Bait & Switch BS and bad service in general. I wouldn’t get FIOS if they gave it to me at this point. I’m still in a fog but trying not to sleep yet another beautiful day away; I worked an extra night last night (for ConEd pretty much, LoL). I went in an hour later and got to leave an hour earlier, quite helpful cause by night 4, I’m shot. Sundays are much mellower than my nights.

    That’s the one thing I sometimes don’t like about my job, you really don’t get to have a life when you work weekend nights. Usually I don’t mind because there’s nothing in the neighborhood to do and the timing is perfect for traveling in the badlands of the Bronx. I leave for work when all of the low lives are starting to come to life, and go home when their sleeping it off. I’m wondering out loud if I’m going to be doing this for the long haul; it’s a thankless job. I don’t see people on the night shift ever getting written up for any Big Heart awards, people who most deserve them. Nope, instead all the daytime people get written up for doing their jobs. Once in a while you hear a good one where someone actually saved a life, and/or actually made a difference. Personally, I’d be embarrassed to except an award for doing my job. One of my coworkers received a Big Heart for being alert enough to notice a customer of ours was choking and got help for them, another got one for saving a coworkers life who was having a serious heart issue and getting him the help he needed just in the nic of time (he wound up having heart surgery STAT), now for something like that I think they deserve it.

    Luckily, the shift I work is very unusual in that all of us get along very well and work as a unit, a fine oiled machine. We all help each-other out, and I think we all look forward to working with one another and avoid banging out at all costs. Thursday I had a really bad migraine I worked through, Saturday my adopted son CJ came in feeling ill, he was clammy and I could tell he wasn’t himself but he didn’t want to bang-out on the A-Team. We do have a few mentally ill people we work with; one guy claims he works for Air-force One. On the fourth of July he flew down to the Gulf in an F16. Oh. Really? Then why are you an overnight security guard? We also have a housekeeper who claims to be a Secret Service officer, with a pension from the Mets too (cause don’t ya know he was a big shot in security there). Oh. Really? Then why are you a janitor? I guess the Secret Service isn’t paying that well these days. LMAO Just a little scary, huh, considering these are the people who are suppose to have your back. A cast of characters alright. We put up with a lot of crap from our customers too. Cause Friday and Saturday is “Drunk Night”. We had a guy try to escape in his under-ware, and he gave one of my friends a run for his money but good thing, he was the right man for the job; if it was the crazy guard, the guy would have wound up jumping 2 stories down to his death. I wonder if I can write Will up for a Big Heart award or if he would feel like me and not want an award for doing your job.

    These children around here are animals, and their parents are often drug addicts, gang members and your usual scum of the Earth that ruined many-o-good blue collar neighborhood. Why would I expose myself to that, and give them the gift of teaching them my trade? I also don’t want to do anything for people who aren’t around my age (give or take 15 years); around Morris Park and Van Nest the seniors get everything. I’m not saying they don’t deserve it but the people running these associations often have ulterior motives (need I say more?).

    I can’t think of people who would be more deserving than our men and women who are coming home damaged (in more ways than one).

    My Godmother/Aunt is being operated on today; possibly as I write. She was having trouble with her vision out of the blue; it turned out to be a tumor by her nasal passage. My Tia Marie was probably more of an influence in my life than she realizes. One of my hobbies, baking, I can definitely attribute to her. I remember once she was going to be on “Bowling for Dollars” (remember that game show?) and made a bowling alley cake that made it’s way on TV. She also made me a Kotex cake when I got my period, mmmmm dig in. LoL My prayers (and my FB friends) are with her and my family in this most difficult time.

UPDATE: My Aunt made it through the surgery, and it looks like they got it all in one shot. Thank God/Goddess! I am truly grateful for all the good in my life.

    If I go to the cemetery and there is still no epitaph on my Uncle Thomas’s grave, I will disown all my cousins that benefited from his death but didn’t have the decency to put his name on his final resting place. He was a WW2 vet and deserves better than that. My Uncle didn’t die a pauper, there’s no reason for this. That should have been the 1st thing you’all did. I just get by in life; the epitaph will cost around $700.. That’s a lot of money for me to come up with. I need a new laptop/PC/Mac for my business that is now on hold (my computer has no audio and is not powerful enough to support graphics). So you all know who you are and I suggest all of my cousins send me about $125. each so we can get this done; if not FU, I’ll never speak to any of you again (your about as low as what is acceptable for me to bother with you, as is, over his passing). My Uncle Thomas had to be worth just as much (if not more) as my father, who left behind just enough money for my mother to be taken care of in her last years on this Earth. I had just enough money left over when she died to keep me afloat for the year it took me to find a decent job that I would be able to live and pay my rent with. When I landed my job, I had $500. left to my name.

Shame on you, your a bunch of a$$holes!!!

Skull, originally uploaded by Deadicated.

… so take time to smell the roses.

    I hate my birthday, and as much as I try to be happy about it, and remind myself that life is short; I still can’t seem to forget my mother died on the second, my best friend on the 9th and my brother-in-law actually nailed it. Jeez, just called work to see what’s going on with another operator’s mom and apparently things aren’t going too well; so I have to work on my B-Day anyway (again). See, I told you, no good times allowed round here. LoL I guess it can always be worse, I’ll keep Anthony A. in mind on that note.

    A friend of mine from childhood passed away, and will be waked at Ruggiero’s tomorrow, July 2nd (the 3rd anniversary date of my mother’s passing). Anthony A. was my age, and from what I’ve been told by his sister, he had a slow growing tumor discovered about 6 months ago; and his sister told me he wasn’t sick, so I’m assuming this all happened quite suddenly. Anthony and I were best of friends from the ages of about 5 to 7 years old; I remember going to the aquarium with him and my mom and dad.

R.I.P. Anthony Augone

  Anthony (pictured behind the baby carriage), Chucky (in red pants) who also left us way too soon.



  Me (in yellow), Annmarie T., Judy L. and Anthony; playing “The Partridge Family”.

    “The Troubles”, these are times of trouble for many. Right now I have a friend who is going under the knife for a cancer surgery; so say a prayer for Sammy B. if you have it in your heart. Also, a lady who is like a mother to me, fell and broke her hip; she had surgery last week and I’m hoping she heals and get’s better. Many people go downhill when they break a hip, and she’ll have to go to rehab for a while. I miss my mother and father but in a way, I’m glad all that pain is behind me; it was a very difficult time for me.

    The one good thing I heard the President was going to do is sign a bill for “Caretakers” of our soldiers who are coming back with TBI’s (traumatic brain injuries). This bill would provide a family member with a $10.oo an hour stipend; which is a lot better than them actually going broke (I can relate). We take better care of people who enter our country illegally than we do our own veterans and injured soldiers. Shame on us, really.

    The hours are difficult (at best), the people I work with are difficult but our patients, well some of them just break my heart. Sometimes I get calls in the middle of the night from patients (usually elderly), they reminds me of my mother and father in the autumn of the years. Their scared, sick, confused (some people ask me what day/date/time it is), and often at the end of their lives. Even the nasty pt’s who will work on your last nerve don’t rouse me; I try to keep in mind that their probably talking to me on the worst day/s of their lives. I guess the service people get (in general) these days is so poor that they’re genuinely surprised when you get hold of a nice person. It’s really sad! I have off tonight, thank goodness, I’m feeling a bit run down these days; probably my diet. I guess you also have to be diligent on a psychic level as well, it would be easy for me to absorb much of the misery around me (if I let it).

    To all you so-called people (I see you as ghouls) who were nowhere to be found the last six months of my mother’s life (and then some); leave me the hell alone, stop calling my phone, stop stalking me on FaceBook and stop the emails too. I have nothing to say to you!

    God is watching, and he’s crying right now. He sees all the horrible things we do to each-other and our planet. I use the word God but I guess I mean God Power, good orderly direction, Goddess … whatever works for you.

    Then they wonder why I always wear the same clothes (clean of course); every time I make plans to go clothes shopping, I get called to work. Oh well, it’s better to be wanted, than not.

… Halloween of course. Not Samhain (although I think you’ll be seeing my Wiccan faith reflected in my surface design too), but our secular and beloved Halloween. As a designer, it’s par for the course to be about 6 – 9 months ahead of time; and actually I’m behind, I’m sure they start working on the floats for parades and such about a week or so after the parade. Also, the theme to this years parade is Memento Mori; timely for me, I have a Squidoo Lens by the same name I’ve been developing.

    It’s time to lawyer up. Someone has accused me of wrong doing, put my life in danger and has taken money out of my pocket. Nobody is going to sully The Ferony Families good name and get away with it. Especially the low-brow bunch of liars , cheats and thieves I’m dealing with. I may be calling on The Deadicated Group for a letter writing campaign. They’ll be sorry you ever toyed with me if they don’t cool it. I swear on my father’s grave so help me Goddess; God should give you all blood to drink!

    Yet another truly amazing find, this posting is from a Flickr Friend.

WHEN LIFE GIVES US LEMONS, SQUEEZE THOSE BABIES AND DRINK IT DOWN……, originally uploaded by Tao of jonathon.

Memorial Day on Wiki. Just remember, Freedom Isn’t Free!

In Flanders Fields

John McCrae, 1915.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.



Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

    I was good, for over two months I didn’t take anything; me being one of us Americans who are too quick to dim the pain. Really, we should be more concerned about cause (as well as effect). I mean the pain is there for a warning. Generally speaking, we would all fare better if we became more aware of what we were putting in our bodies, how our animals we are eating are treated and how we trend on this planet; we’re all suppose to be stewards of Spaceship Earth. Our bodies being the Temple/s.

    Didn’t anyone ever tell all these unscrupulous people that greed isn’t good? All the problems in the World today are caused by greed. God should give you blood to drink!

    I received unsolicited mail from the UFT, the United Federation of Teachers. It was very Anti-Senator Jeff Klein. What the UFT failed to mention. The BoE harbors sex offenders, and abuses money they receive from the government. That’s right! By rewarding them, “Rubber Rooming”; when they should be in jail for having sex with minors. I can go on and on but for now I wont, I have friends and family that are teachers. If they don’t take my name off their mailing list; I’ll sue them, I have a small mailbox and their junk mail is taking up precious space.

    They also don’t protect our teachers, just like all Unions are full of crap, they take the cake. Just look at this latest case of a teacher being pushed to her breaking point, caught on camera beating a student. This went on for a while too, with no security or police in site. I’m sick of big institutions feeling and knowing that they are above the law; hospitals, schools, and religious and neighborhood organizations all read from the same book. It’s about time our government starts protecting individuals and stops throwing money on the fire. The fore-mentioned are always spending good money after bad. WAKE UP ALREADY!



NOBODY IS GOING TO SCREW WITH MY FAVORITE SENATOR. WHO HAS HELPED US AND HAS ALWAYS SHOWED UP FOR VAN NEST AND ST. DOMINIC’S (which is in trouble again). I THINK THE DEADICATED GROUP NEEDS TO RISE AGAIN

    I guess it’s to be expected at this time of the year; the nice weather takes people in the Northeast away from their computers. Traffic to my Squidoo has been on the rise, and that’s a good thing. I’ve been using Google Analytics to track it. I love Google!

    Did you check out the Google Doodle celebrating 30 years of Pacman? I can’t believe it’s been 30 years. Where the heck does time go?