Dribblings for September 2003

Category: dribblings

9.29.03
it was a bit chilly this morning (52 degrees with the F) and alas i had no pants to paint in. at one time i had a pair of painted up pants that laura gave me (they were a mite too big, but it beats messing up a pair of my good jeans, sorry, jains) but i guess after moving 2 or 3 times they got lost or thrown away.

so dad says, “well i guess you’ll have to mess up a pair of your regular jeans. you can buy some new ones.”

what? me? buy new clothes?
i’d rather take a beating. you know why? ‘cos i suck at buying clothes. that’s why. here’s a fine example:

last friday i went to walmarks to get some hair dye. (goodbye blue hair, hello black and blue hair!) so i glanced at some of the t-shirts they had and one was a really cute ringer t and i boght it ‘cos it was so cute. so i go home and eventually i wear that shirt and best says, “so you’re a lesbian now?” and my parents say, “what?” and i look up from my cup of coffee and say, “huh? did someone ask me a question?”

best: your shirt. it’s gay.
me: really? i thought it was kind of cool. wait. WHAT? GAY? HOW?
best: well, it’s got woodstock on it. woodstock is gay.
me: WOODSTOCK IS GAY?! WHAT?! NO! WHAT?!
best: yeah, and the rainbow is gay too. everyone knows that rainbows are gay.
me: …yeah rainbows… the rainbow is a symbol of the covenant that god made with his people and WOODSTOCK IS GAY?!! HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT? WHEN DID WOODSTOCK COME OUT? I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WOODSTOCK HAD A GENDER!

shit. so now i have the gayest shirt in gadsden.
also, woodstock is gay. why didn’t i know that? i mean, sure, it’s obvious that marcy and peppermint pattie had a little sumpin-sumpin going on, but woodstock? he was a cutie. he talked in lines. damn those cartoon stealing gays!

anyway, back to the first part of the story. i didn’t have any pants but i remembered that i had a set of coveralls that i bought at the thrift store about 5 years ago. so i wore those. if i were about a foot taller they would fit. also, i really look gay in those. i mean, i might as well sew a name patch on the chest. Butch. or maybe Woodstock.
feh.

9.28.03
sigh. so busy on a sunday. so tired now.
had to drive to the evil, dark realm of anniston to look at a job. i think that drive is worse than driving to visit leetle brahther in TN.

i called jimmy this afternoon to just say hi and all and told him i was tired. he said, “aw, is wittle haimie going to make a sleepy?”

i don’t know why, but that made me laugh and laugh.
i love that man.

9.27.03
looks like the Queen of Broken Promises strikes back!
a whole week with nary a dribble.
let me just say, it’s been kind of busy, okay? is that good enough for you?! no? fine!

so anyway, i’ve been toying with the idea of fasting. if any of you have any thoughts on that let me know.

usually once a month i have dream where all my teeth fall out, shatter, crumble, or my teeth hurt so bad ‘cos for some reason there’s too many teeth that i start pulling them out to relieve the pressure. well, last night i had another teeth dream but this time it was jimmy’s teeth. and he started to pull his teeth out. i wiped the blood off his chin with a kleenex. then i woke up. weird, huh?

a couple of days ago i sat down to draw a gear. i wanted to draw a gear in perspective. i drew one or two in college but i wanted to draw another one because i needed a bigger one. anyway, damn that’s hard. it took me 2 and one half hours to figure it all out again. and truly, i’m not sure if it’s even 90% correct. i would scan it, but my scanner is ka-poot. maybe i could snap a pic of it with the dig-it-al? hold on.


look, i didn’t have time to set up the studio lights, okay?

so anyway, it looks correct, but i’m certain that technically it’s not. but who really cares as long as it looks good, eh?

but i’m having tons of problems drawing one in two point perspective, and i can’t understand why.

then i tried to draw one at a really severe angle, and that also didn’t work. at all. ptooi! i speet on you, funny angle that was going to look so cool! feh.

anyway, i gotta get back to sharon and barry’s wedding present blue dog. i’m almost done! all’s i gots left is the grass, yo.

9.20.03

JAIMIE JOINS THE PROMISE BREAKERS:

well, i guess i’m the Queen of Broken Promises.

last week i painted a flowers, right? which is something that i said i’d never do.

last night while my favorite band, Boogie Chain, played at the bar and held a themed “Funk Party” (complete with afro wigs and bad pants) i…i…got up and….and..i…dancedwiththedrunkenhippiesohmygodtheshame and that’s not all….i…i…heldmybeerinmyhandasidanced.
i always said i’d never do that.
promise breaker!

god may forgive me, but i never will.

IN OTHER NEWS:

we hung the art show last night (before my drunken white-girl dance) and it was very smooth. the smoothest yet, i’d say. zach and kristie were a huge help. i think it is intersting how these shows get set up. the first one jimmy and i hung most of it, and i think liz helped. the second one tami sparks and her male-friend at the time (who knew he’d be such an asshole later, i ask you?) hung most of it. and this time another couple, Z&K hung the show. i think it’s weird that different couples have hung the show each time.

if i were a sociologist i’d have more to say on the subject i’m sure, but i’m just a lowly artist/promise breaker.

9.19.03
i was in b’ham all day. sorry no dribble.

9.18.03
today at the library a young gentleman who might be gay, i’m not sure ‘cos i didn’t ask him, came up to me and was all, “i’ve had blue hair too!” and i said, “really? cool!” and he said, “it looks really great on you!” and i said, “thanks!” and then i checked out a book on the history of libraries, after i paid my 60 cent fine that is. feh, the fact that i had to pay for The Coffee Trader bugs me. i was doing the world a favor by keeping it off the shelves. i should’ve haggled.

then we went to eat at Miss Jean’s in RBC and it’s very small and very good. the lunch nazi (which is a meanish old lady) was there and the past two times we’ve eaten there she has been really nice to us, but the times before that she was a meanie, that is for sure. well she said she was jealous of my blue hair and wants blue hair and told me that my blue hair looks really good on and that it “goes” with my “color”. thanks, lunch nazi!

i think it has something to do with laura-bo-baura’s famous news paper article.

9.17.03
hey cookie, remember the other day on the message board you said that you watched Good Times and i was all, “i never watch Good Times!” well that’s not the whole truth.

lemme ‘splain.

every wednesday i’m at the bar, right? listening to awesome tunes, yo? well ,there’s about 40 television sets in the place and i usually stare at the one showing wednesday night baseball. i think it’s ESPN, but i’m not sure. anyway. go yankees, right?
hey, shut up ok? i’ve been a yankees fan since the ’80s ok? that makes me a true fan, dig?

right, so on one of the TVs there’s UPN and i guess that’s the channel that Good Times comes on, ‘cos like i glance over and there’s Martin and then two beers later there’s The Fresh Prince and then two more beers later i glance over and there’s Good Times. now, by this time my face is numb, ok? and maybe i haven’t had dinner yet too, ok? so you know, the beer is watching TV and not me, right?

so anyway, it’s not “closed captioned” like the other shows are so all i hear is loud music and i just get to “see” Good Times in all it’s silent glory. i have no idea what the “plot” is ever about. so anyway, here’s what blitzed jaimie has gleaned from watching Good Times every wednesday night for the last 10 weeks or so:

okay, so the mom is always crying about something.
the dad is pissed about something to the point of near abuse.
JJ struts into the room with a bewildered look on his face looking like a blind pimp dressed him.
and there i sit wondering why everything is so godamned orange.

so, how far off am i?

9.16.03
wow, so yesterday i wrote that everyone paints flowers and that i know why. well, Cowboy Zydeco called me on it and wants an explanation. so i’ve decided to do a Weekly on it. and i’m very excited about it. so, you know, next week’s epitomb and all.

conversation with dad #1:
me: hey dad, do you want some of this cheesecake?
dad: oh. no, thank you. i’m stuffed.
me: ok, but i’ve got some great cheesecake over here. maybe a tiny slice?
dad: couldn’t possibly. i’m too full.

so i go over to where dad is sitting with my sliver of cheesecake and i take a bite and say, “mmmmmmm this is great. are you sure you-“

“no! i don’t! fuck you!”

and then we laughed and laughed. i can’t explain why it was so funny.

conversation with dad #2:
me: what’s for supper tonight?
dad: i’m not sure. mom is going to the store when she gets off work. it’s a suprise.
me: oh.
dad: she’ll probably come back with one of those 30 pack chicken thighs.
me: oh man. i hate that.
dad: me too. who needs 30 pieces of chicken? and the pack doesn’t even fit in the ‘fridge.
me: what? i thought you liked them.
dad: what? oh god no. nobody likes thighs.
me: i know! but you guys buy them all the time!
dad: i have never bought chicken thighs in my life! it’s your mom! she buys them!
me: oh you’re kidding me.
dad: and then you have to cook them forever just to make sure you don’t have blood all in it.
me: ugh, and the ligaments and shit.
dad: oh i know, there’s tendons and you can see the muscle and god i hate thighs.
me: i know, i mean, i’ve even gone so far as to refuse to eat chicken on the bone.
dad: oh yeah, that’s right. good move.
me: why haven’t we told mom about this?
dad: i dunno, i always thought she must like thighs.

and in other news:
i forgot to take my books back to the library. i now owe them twenty cents. damn, RBC library with their ten-cent-a-day fines! ptooi! i speet on you!

9.15.03
so i finished a painting. it’s a big deal. it’s not a great painting by any means. it’s much too small. it’s flowers, which is something i always said i’d never paint. everyone paints flowers. i know why.

conversation the other day:
also L is not laura.

L: (in the other bed room) jaimie!
me: (in my room) yeah?!
L: zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance?!
me *mumbles* hmm? that sounds familiar….*brain kicks in* oh! yeah! yeah! it’s a book!
L: zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance?!
me: *mumbles* why is she…?
me: oh yeah! i bought that book a while back, did you find it?
L: zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance?!
me: *sigh* i think it’s supposed to be pretty good. i read part of it in high school.
L: yeah, but zen?
me: i think it’s just the title. it’s not instructional or anything. i think it’s like a “stop and smell the roses” kind of lesson.

i can’t remember if she asked, “does your mom know you’re reading that?” or if she just implied that question in her, “zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance?!”

but i remember it made me feel stupid. like i’m not supposed to read things with the words zen or buddhist or catholic or whatnot ‘cos i’m a “christian”. and lord knows reading something about something might just seduce me to the dark side of the force.

i guess what bothers me is that i used to think that way. i think i’m getting a little bit better at being more tolerant and open minded, not in a “i want to explore that other religion” kind of way but in a “huh. look at that” kind of way. like a zoo! like you can go and see the cages all separated and there’s the christians! and there’s the moslems! and over in that section is where the Wild Cults live! let’s go check out the moonies!

mom! can we go to the religion zoo?! please? huh? can we? please? mom? zoo?

anyway, like i say, i’m getting a little bit better at not shutting my brain down the minute i hear or read something that has a different belief than me.

except for that damn new age movement.
fark dat shyte, yo.
derp!

9.14.03
i started David Liss’s The Coffee Trader. i’m certain this will be one of the ones i don’t finish. not only because it’s due back on tuesday but also because it’s a historical novel…period piece? and it seems that the author must have minored in 17th century Dutch economics. and if there’s one thing i hate more than the Dutch, it’s economics. por exemplo:

He walked silently, head down against the light rain. Today was, on the Christian calendar, the thirteenth of May, 1659. Accounts on the Exchange closed each month on the twentieth; let a man make whatever manuevers he liked, none of it mattered until the twentieth, when the credits and debits of the month were tallied and money at last changed hands. Today things had gone badly with a matter of brandy futures, and Miguel now had less than a week to pluck his fat from the fire or he would find himself another thousand guilders in debt.

Another thousand. He already owed three thousand. Once he made double that in a year, but six months ago the sugar market collapsed, taking Miguel’s fortune with it. And then–well, one mistake after another. He wanted to be like the Dutch, who regarded bankruptcy as no shame. (p5)

yawn.

however, the dialogue, i’ve found is pretty um, well:

At the bottom of the stairs, an enormous man, shaped remarkably like a pear, blocked their passage, and sensing that someone wished to get by he moved his bulk backwards to prevent anyone from squeezing past. He held a tankard in one hand and a pipe in the other, and he shouted something incomprehensible to his companions.

“Move your monstrous bulk, fellow,” Hendrick said to him. The man turned his head just enough to register his scowl and then looked away.

“Fellow”-Hendrick tried again-“you are the hard turd in the ass of my journey. Don’t make me apply a purgative to flush you out.”

“Go piss in your breeches,” he answered, and then belched in laughter in his friends’ faces. (p9)

so there you go.
but you have to hand it to the Dutch. when they named things, they named it in such a way that you know that it has to be Dutch. one ‘a’ is not good enough. if etowaah county was holland, we would live in gaatschden. heh.

9.13.03
i finished reading Sandra Newman’s the only good thing anyone has ever done. it read’s like a rough draft complete with out of sequence flashbacks and lists. it’s really neat the way she wrote it. it’s an ordered stream-of-consciousness, Faulkner would be proud…or jealous or strangely disappointed, i’m not sure. i haven’t asked him if he’s read it yet. (hey, if you guys see him around would you let him know i’m looking for him? thanks.) however, just what the book is about is kind of hard to describe, so i won’t. just know that what it lacks in solidarity it makes up for in wit. dry, dry humor. good stuff.

9.12.03
i worked at the sign shop today. it was fun, but i am glad that i don’t have to do that everyday. i think it’s the phone that bothers me the most. it was weird though, about 3/4 of the calls i answered remembered me and was so excited to get to talk to me! me! craZy huh? i thought so.

also i saw the movie The Order. um, yeah. the previews made it look scary and cool. but it was not scary and also it was…not….good. it was confusing and not well though out and just blah. it had such potential…if only it had been about something.

dear The Order,

what was your plot about anyway?

next time, might i suggest some brain storming, thought clusters, and rough draft before you just dive into making a movie, hmmm?

D+

blahfully yours,
jaimie pickle

9.11.03
hmmm, had a tiny bit of a hangover this morning.
i have not turned on the TV all day because i don’t want to see any 9/11 stuff as i still cry when i see the buildings ablaze and falling and really, why should i have to look at that stuff when i can just live in my happy bubble world all day, a safe land where nothing is sharp or sad and everything smells like coffee and baking bread. oh sure, i am a simpleton, but i don’t see where me watching the sadness over and over will make me anymore hopeful or any less helpless. besides it’s all about marketing and washing powder isn’t it?

Faithful Athiest had a cool thing on his site today wherein he fantasized about winning an imaginary lottery! it seemed like so much fun that we all did it!

i started a painting today for the art show next week. nothing like waiting until the last minute…just like in college.

today my father made a lamp out of a clarinet.

i’m nearly finished with the book i’m reading, and i think (i know, scary) that i’m gonna finish it and get it back to the library on time. well, i just jinxed that didn’t i? d’oh!

9.10.03
once again it was wednesday.
once again we went to the bar.
once again there was great music.
once again many beers were consumed.

9.09.03
i got this e-mail from cookie:

What is up with the earrings?  Mine were fine, FINE!  Then I woke up one day and it was pain.  I brushed my hair behind my ear and barely touched one, and I thought my head would explode.  

No one understood the pain, Jaimie.
i know, sweetie. they think we’re just being big babies.    

I’d taken the originals out and put cool ones in.  Some sort of sick, earring mojo happened and my ears did not like my fashion choice and rejected the earrings.  I guess.  But they started throbbing and bleeding.  And please, trying to get them out?  No thank you!  The pain of that was like no other.
i know! i’d rather take a beating then have ear pain!

So one night, I finally decided to stop being a wimp, and I took both sets of earrings out, cleaned my ears, and put some “sensitive ears” labeled earrings in the top holes.  Now my original holes are getting knots and itching to high heaven and secreting some sort of clear fluid which dries and crusts on the back of my ear.
yeah, what is that stuff anyway? no wait, don’t tell me. i don’t want to know.

It’s very gross.  It’s like my ears were in the Mafia and I thought everything was going ok, but then unbeknownst to me, the second hole offended the family, and suddenly, when I least expected it, Vinnie shows up and takes my ears for “a ride”.   

Anyway.  When I read your “dribblings” about your ears, I wanted to let you know that if you have not gotten earrings that are labeled for “sensitive ears” at Clairs, OR 14K gold earrings (70% off at Kmart almost all the time, I got a pair for $7.50 and I loved them and then I lost one so make sure the backs are secure, I hate Kmart) then you should probably invest in those now.  They are both good for hurting ears.  

Also, any woman that would try to take your girl card away for using wire cutters on a pair of offending earrings is an evil robot who will eventually short circuit and bounce into a counter saying “I thought we were friends” a la Stepford Wives.  Wire cutters are the bomb.  I wish I would have thought of it.  

i heart cookie. i like how she’s able to work in a mafia reference when refering to ear rings. genius, sheer genius!

9.08.03
Bowling For Columbine is out on video rental now.
so get off yer arse and go watch something smart!

9.07.03
dear mean, angry, cashier bitch at foodworld,

i am fairly certain that if you had witnessed my 15 minute, neurotic, painfully slow search for the four most perfect plums in your produce section, you would have been about 100 times more careful with my plums than you were ringing them up. if you had seen me pick up and lighty squeeze to test the firmness of each fucking plum in your store and look over each square inch of fruit to make sure as not to choose a runny, bruised, or rotting plum, i am sure you would not have so carelessly bounced my bag of now not-as-perfect-as-they-were-before plums along the check-out station.

if you had seen me lovingly pluck the four juiciest, reddest, ripest, sweetest looking plums with absolute care, and place them gently, lovingly, like a mother plum placing her baby plums delicately into the soft bed of a plastic produce bag and nestle the tender bag of perfect fruit into the shopping cart nest between the bread and cheese curls to form a protective cocoon around my perfect plum babies, that you sure as shit would not have smashed them into the grocery pile between the cans of soup and dog food and pushed the whole pile closer to the bag boy. i could only watch in horror as my poor plum children were herded in with the hard canned groceries and then were rolled over by a giant oversized can of Chunky Soup™ only to be further abused by the bag boy.

and you, bag boy, you were the genius mastermind behind the conspiracy to kill my perfect plums weren’t you? your cashier cohort didn’t do enough of a “bang up” job on my plums for your sadistic taste didn’t she? so in a complete and final killing blow to my now less than perfect bag of plum goodness you decide to bag my plum babies with the giant, honking gallon of 2% store brand milk. kudos, you sick son of a bitch, kudos.

you idiot sunday workers, if you only understood that the produce section on sunday afternoon is lousy at best, then surely you would have been more careful with my plum children. my four perfect plums that i picked out of maybe three dozen. the plum babies that i adopted just like Cabbage Patch Kids™ only they were plums and also did not have hard plastic faces. the plums, my plums, who are now soft and mushy and crying in the crisper.

thanks so much.

love,

jaimie pickle

9.06.03
today is my leetle brahther’s b’day. i called him and sang to him 3 times. in a funny voice of course.

i finally got the earrings out. i went and bought some new ones that i’ll probably leave in until Jesus comes back to take us all home. a very huge part of me regrets getting my ears pierced.

9.05.03
i am an idiot and cannot get these earrings out of my ears. i have blood dripping out of one and the other one is so sore i can’t stand it. and yes i turned them everyday. it’s those damn locking backs i can’t get off. and as if they aren’t hard enough to get off they are slippery with blood, so there you go.
i.am.so.angry.

i keep thinking that cutting them off with wire cutters is the way to go. sometimes i suck at being a girl.
seriously, any other girls out there, when struggling with jewelry, think about wire cutters as a solution? please? anyone? e-mail me at jjpickle at cybrtyme.com and let me know.

i just know that the Girl Police are gonna hunt me down and take away my Girl Card. please don’t turn me in.

9.04.03
well can you believe it? Linda Eder is coming to b’ham to perform with the ASO on sept. 27. i wish i could get jimmy to take me. too bad he doesn’t have a twin brother who is flamingly gay. how much fun would that be?

me: hey jimmy’s flamboyantly gay twin brother, you wanna go to the Linda concert with me?

jfgtb: oh my god! like you even have to ask?!

me: great! the concert is on-

jfgtb: for the love of judy! i have nothing to wear!

me: dude, it’s ok. the concert is four weeks away-

jfgtb: and listen girlfriend, you are NOT wearing a t-shirt and jeans to this shindig. no way! or you aren’t going! i’ll take rick instead!

me: gimmie some credit here, i was planning on wearing a skirt. what? don’t give me that look. i was. i have a skirt, y’know. i do! and who the hell is rick?!

jfgtb: oh some hottie i met the other night.

me: you are such a slut.

jfgtb: *gasp* i know! you’re just jealous. and you’re gonna wear make-up too! and we’re gonna fix your hair and everything!

me: there’s nothing wrong with my hair! and how much make-up? just a little, right?

jfgtb: honey, i’m talking cat-eyes.

me: now wait a minute, jimmy’s flamboyantly gay twin brother, this is Linda…not Tori. i will not wear eye liner! lipstick, ok. eye liner, no.

jfgtb: you are so hateful!

me: shut up, fag.

9.03.03
ah, another typical wednesday for our favorite blue-haired heroine:

i worked all day in the hot, hot sun, the same sun they use to keep hell boiling. i painted. they decided they didn’t like the color. so i had to wait like a shemp ’til they got back with a color they did like. then i painted over what i had just painted.

after work i had to go pick up the jeep from the mechanic.
this week it was the power steering.

got home; showered; pet the itty bitty kitty goobye.

went to the painful church meeting.

then we hit the bar and listened to the Supplements. great band. once again you were not there. we missed you. even jimmy was there. he brought his new toy, a cell phone hand held computer star trek transporter thingy. and you didn’t see it, ‘cos you weren’t there.

oh well, there’s always next wednesday…what perils lay ahead for the jeep? pro’ly tire rotation.

9.02.03
i spent all day in a bathroom mostly on the floor. we painted it a nasty shade of bright purple with white trim. the wife loved it. the husband hated it. all i know for sure is that i hate painting bathrooms. not only is it a claustrophobic nightmare, but you have to paint behind the toilet. and there’s my face…right there…next to the thing that’s had everyone’s ass on it every day. gah.

also, no weekly. i think maybe i’m gonna take september off and perhaps just do one of these dribblings every day. we’ll see.

9.01.03
wow. so we had a party yesterday. a cookout. we drank almost two cases of beer. and then we played cards and yelled a lot. and then we found a pair of those tanning bed eye goggles:


oh mine papa


flippy got in on the action

then we found some goofy teeth, a pig snout, and a big honking orange toboggin:


leetle brather

i left around 1am to go “home” (don’t ask) and when i got back to mom and dad’s house this morning there was a t-shirt in the toilet. it seems i always leave just as the party is about to get craZy.

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