The One About Some Letters
January 28, 2004

hi kids,

i haven't written a weekly in a long time. the lack of weekly is mostly due to me not having anything to write about and also 'cos i've been a little busy. just know that every tuesday that i've missed has felt like a giant blackhole of doom for me. every tuesday night dad asks, "hey are you going to write a weekly this week?" and each time i answer, "no" i see his hopeful grin shrink, and i think a piece of his soul dies.

i keep asking people what i whould write about and most of them say i should write about dad some more, 'cos they think he's funny. ok, to be completely honest, i only asked jimmy. and dude, why are you trying to suck up to my dad? he already likes you.

anyway, i can't write about dad all the time because
1. i think mom is getting jealous and
2. dad's getting a big head about the whole thing. in fact after reading the last weekly dad came into my room and did the Happy Dance while singing "i made the weekly! two weeks in a row! ha ha...hahaha! nanny nanny boo boo!"

and yes, that made me laugh but it was mom's muffled voice from the living room, "stop encouraging him." that sobered me up. because there's nothing worse than dad thinking he's all clever. actually, there is one thing worse, and that's if you owe dad money. any amount of money.
he lords it over you until you pay it back.
"hey, don't forget that 2 buck 50 you owe me."

in fact the other day i had to pay $300 to get my jeep fixed. well, i wasn't able to get to the bank and there was a long holiday on top of that and so dad said, "i'll lend you $300 bucks until you can get to the bank." and i said, "no thanks. i know how you are. i'd rather wait out the long weekend then have to hear you crow every hour about how i owe you money."
"i promise i won't do that."
"yeah right. and then i have to hear you make up all these percentage increases per day and blah blah blah. no thank you. i can wait til tuesday."
"heh. no really. i won't do any of that."
"liar."
"heh. really. for real. i won't do that to you. i know how much you miss the jeep. it's been two weeks. take the money."
"mmmm i dunno. you promise you won't be an ass?"
"i promise."
"okay. thanks dad! you'll get the money on tuesday."
"..."
"..."
"hey before i forget..."
"what?"
"you owe me 300 bucks."
"i hate you."
"and i figure there's a 19% interest rate..."
"nevermind. here's your money back. i'll pick up the jeep next week."
"no!no! i'm kidding! keep the money!"
"noway! i don't want it! you're gonna bring it up all weekend! and i'll be damned if i'm gonna listen to you and your ganster voice all weekend reminding me that i owe you. fughedabouddit."
"fine. you're no fun. take the money. i won't bug you about it anymore."
"i don't believe you."
"just take the damn money."
"well. alright. thanks dad."
"*gangster voice* but i betta have my money on tooshday or headsh are gonna roll, capice?"
sigh.

and anyone who has ever borrow a buck from dad will know exactly what i'm talking about, right justin?

oy, and here i said i wouldn't write a weekly about dad.

so here's a letter i wrote:

Dear Giant Honking Rotary Phone from the 1940s,

Hi Phone! How are you? You're looking pretty good. Anyway i was just wondering why you've started to 'stick' everytime i try to dial a 1 or 2?

Listen up Homeboy, i've taken a lot of crap from my friends and family for having you as the only phone i own, so you better start acting right, or i'll give in to their merciless teasing and buy a new, improved phone! A push button phone! maybe even cordless! So unless you want to end up on a shelf at the Goodwill you'll start kickin' out 1's and 2's. Okay?

Your Pal,
Jaimie Pickle

and here's another one:

Dear First Boy to Ever Kiss Me,

So uh, how've you been? i know we haven't spoken in about 20 years, but i just wanted to let you know that the only reason i agreed to be your girlfriend was because you had a pocket knife and i thought that was the coolest thing ever. In fact, i remember pestering my mom and dad for AGES (remember when a month seemed like years?) about giving me a pocket knife just because you had one.

Heh, pocket knife. Kids are weird huh? oh hey! remember all those cool toy airplanes you had? those were awesome!
So anyway, do you still eat boogers? gah, i can't believe i let a booger eater kiss me.

Tell the wife and kids i said hey, and that their daddy was a booger eater.

Your Pal,
Jaimie "not a booger eater" pickle

Dear Mom and Dad,

What the hell were you thinking? Giving a pocket knife to a 6 year old?! Nice. Real nice. What are we rednecks? Hello? Hey look, i don't care how dull the blade was (and don't you think for a second i didn't notice how dull that blade was. sheesh. that thing couldn't have been any more dull if it had been made out of silly putty and bread. Talk about being the laughing stock of the pee-wee pocket knife community.) a 6 year old has no business playing with a pocket knife! i mean, i could've cut my finger off! (hardly. with a rock from the front yard, maybe.)

i can't believe you gave me a pocket knife (ugh, come on, you couldn't even put a slight edge on it? what, you're afraid i might whittle out graven images or something?! geezum pete that knife sucked) when i was a kid. So i guess what i really want to say is thanks guys, that was cool as shit! For some reason, whittling sticks down to sharp points was like, the coolest thing ever. Even though that knife you gave me was dull and rusty and couldn't cut worth a damn. You guys are the best mom and dad ever!

Your Daughter,
Jaimie

ps: dad, how the hell did you talk mom into that anyway?

next week's epitomb: i dunno. probably something about dad.

jaimie "not a booger eater" pickle