July 2004 Dribblings

Category: dribblings

7.31.04
i have my Alarm Clock Radio CD Player Wonder Machine tuned to the local oldies AM station. so it’s not entirely surprising that i was awoken (awaken? waked? derp?) this morning by Gordon Lightfoot’s haunting ballad The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. however, it’s one of those songs that follows me around. it’s weird. i hear that song all the time. and you might be thinking, “yeah but jaimie, you’re listening to an oldies station. you’re bound to hear it.” and maybe you’re on to something there.

however, if i hear that song say, on monday, i’ll hear it on tuesday. then wednesday. and probably twice on thursday. and not on the same radio station either. i’ll hear it in the car. at work. at the grocery store. the mall. applebee’s. sonic. martin’s. liquor store. wherever.

it follows me, nay, haunts me.

and what kills me is that none of my friends have ever heard this song. the only reason mr. fleegan has heard it is he’s with me a lot. poor fella.

its just weird.

i don’t want my theme song to be a depressing dirge about a shipwreck in the great lakes!
i guess we don’t have a choice when it comes to our theme songs. but if we did have a choice i’d want mine to be something cool and awesome like, the theme to the Godfather. or maybe something inspiring like The Impossible Dream. or something from Sesame Street, with counting or pronunciation. “1-2-3-4-5–6-7-8-9-10–11–12!”

you know all the guys would want Shaft for their theme song.

7.30.04
new weekly in which i go to hell for making fun of old people.

mr. b came over last night for dinner and i had linda on the hi-fi (hee) and he says, “is that barbra?!” and i said, “no that’s linda.” and he says, “linda?” and i say, “linda is the new barbra.”
“oh.”

well.
she is.

7.28.04
i’ve been way too bitchy lately. like, the last 10 years or so.
what a bummer, huh?

anyway, i’m attempting a weekly. again.
please don’t hold your breath.
but hey, Wisconsin Wendy sent some links, so now i’ve got even more reason to write a weekly!

when i got home from work today i sat on the porch and talked to chris for awhile. he lives in the other half of the Dreamplex. anyway the femail man came by to deliver mail. and she walks up the steps and she has two letters in her hand and says, “i’ve got a pickle and a wood.” and so i raise my hand and say, “i’m the pickle!” and chris raises his hand and says, “i’m the wood!” ‘cos we were kind of excited to be getting mail at our new residence.
then at the same time, “aw. it’s the power bill.”

only later when i’m in the shower do i realize that pickle and wood are like totally phallic.

7.27.04
i am turning into a cantakerous, old, gay man. all i’ve listened to this week is liza and linda. also, i’ve been trying to off strangers (neighbors, i guess) with lasers that shoot from my eyes. i see people and think, “that asshole better not try to break into MY place and steal My stuff. i’ll kill him.” (as if i own anything stealworthy) lucky for everyone who lives near me, i do not own a firearm or have lasers that shoot from my eyes. but i DO have a claw hammer. and i WILL crack your skull if you try any funny business.
what has gotten into me?

oh wait. my period.

this is all starting to make sense now. ‘cos i went to the store and came back with decaf coffee and sour cream. and then i was mad because what the hell am i supposed to do with THAT?!

yesterday was Cat Blog. today it’s Menstrual Blog. what on earth could be next?

more referer log madness:
pickle stuff
dreamplex
cheap scrapbook stuff
how to pickle walnuts

again with the pickled walnuts! i do feel the need to find a recipe for those poor souls searching for instuctions for pickling walnuts. because sure i try to shoot lasers from my eyes (one day, oh yes, one day), but i still want to help out those in need of pickled walnuts.

i had some pickled okra the other day. it wasn’t bad. i thought it would be bitter or slimey. but it was neither. and actually, it tasted just like a pickle. it would have been good with a bloody mary, i think.

******

i had a dream last night that mister fleegan was tired of me but he wouldn’t say anything about it. so he stopped brushing his teeth so i wouldn’t want to kiss him or be around him. his gums receded and turned blackish. it was so gross. i was pleading with him, “why are you doing this? if you don’t like me just say so and we can get on with our lives. but for the love, start brushing your teeth! it’s bad enough you won’t go to the dentist, but jesus god, i can see the roots of your teeth!” and he was all, “i don’t know what your problem is. you’re always nagging me.” and i was all, “how can you stand to eat another snickers bar?! isn’t that killing your mouth?”

and people were acting as if i was the crazy one! all of our friends kept giving him other girlfriends! what?!
and some of them were animated!
what?!

when i woke up i was still grossed out from the teeth and then i remembered the Ren and Stimpy cartoon where Ren stopped brushing his teeth and they all fell out and he pulled out the nerve endings with a tweezer.

not really a great way to start off the morning.

7.25.04
i know that i complain about these Scarpetta novels a lot. but they aren’t so bad really. not as bad as this anyway. not the blog, the books she’s reading. i’m thinking they would lose me at the wereleopards. of this i am certain.
f*ck you, animistic fictional thingies with your vampires and weird-ass religions/politics!

laura is a better person than me. because she doesn’t make fun of my stupid detective stories.

*****

when i woke up this morning i could not find the cat. hey wait, where’s the cat? she was in here when i went to sleep. hm. “TOONCES?! WHERE ARE YOUUUUUUU?! MISS KITTY? PRETTY PRINCESS KITTY, WHERE ARE YOUUUUU?!” i said in my Cat Hunting Voice which is high pitched and very annoying i’m sure. eventually i found her hiding underneath the bathtub. which is like, her Secret Hideout When She Gets Very, Very, Very Scared. if she’s just Regular Scared she hides under the bed. so i’m wondering what on earth scared her so much before 7am? so much that she fled the bedroom, leaving me behind, sleeping, unawares that certain danger was so close to my very person.
thanks toonce, i’m glad to see you’ve got my back.

and once again this turns into Cat Blog. feh.

*****

i told laura and kris 3 times yesterday how great the newest Liza CD is. they thought i was drunk. but i wasn’t. i was serious. so serious that i had to slur on and on about it 3 times. anyway, it’s very good.

7.24.04
update: my fried chicken was thee bomb. mr. fleegan said so.

i am this close (picture thumb and finger .20 of an inch apart) from finishing what i thought would be the LAST HONKING SCARPETTA NOVEL (Blow Fly). until i found out today that there is a new one coming out in september.

Dear Ms. Patricia Cornwell,

Hi. i’m a huge fan. Really. i’ve read like, almost all your books, (13! i know! big fan, right?) and i’m sure you hear this a lot but, You Are Really Great.

And not because of these Scarpetta novels. Because let’s face it, these books are tiresome. i mean, i think you should’ve stopped this stuff like, 6 books ago. And now you’ve got a new one coming out?

What else could possibly happen?! Is she going to fly a space shuttle in this one? hmm? Are we going to be forced to solve mysteries in outer-space now? Because offhand i can’t think of anything new for you to write about. i mean, you’ve had several serial killers, murderers, arson, helicopters, a werewolf, France, New York, Baton Rouge, The Austrian Psychiatrist Lady, Lucy and her Special Lady Friends, FBI, ATF, Inter-farking-pol, and tons of other plots happen to a medical examiner. so other than shooting the whole cast and crew to the moon to solve a murder mystery involving an astronaut, a virulent flesh-eating disease, and some kind of National Security Emergency i just don’t know what on earth there is left for Scarpetta to do.

Or wait, is she gonna solve some kind of murder mystery using science and the unlimited budget she seems to have? i bet she’s gonna seem cold and unfriendly to most of the people she deals with. and i’ll bet she’s gonna argue with Marino (Whom you’ve been threating to kill off for the last 6 books) over everything from his bad diet and smoking to his narrow minded bigotry over one of the characters in the book who will be either black, Puerto Rican, gay, or just a regular, nice, handsome man.

Hey wait, no. i got it. In this next book i bet the mystery is how Scarpetta has managed to be 46 years old for the last 10 years.
What is the deal?

These books are not the reason You Are Great.
You Are Great because you were a volunteer policeperson.
You have helped in forming the Virginia Institute of Forensic Science and Medicine.
And You, Great You, donated your own Hummer to the Hollywood Florida PD.
You philanthropist, you.

So even though you continue to write these Scarpetta novels (Which i am forced to read, mind you.) You’re still Ok in my book (Which i have yet to write, but i will. Oh yes. i will.).

God bless you, Ms. Cornwell.

Sincerely,

Jaimie Pickle

*****

more reefer-er log madness:
(from yahoo search) sexxing in kitchen

7.22.04
tonight, for the first time EVER, jaimie is going to attempt to make…

fried chicken!

it was so important that i had to put it in bold. bold.

i am not not not going to be using a deep fryer or fry daddy or whatever those very scary, crisco-filled contraptions are, nay, i will be using the frying pan or skillet or whatever the hell you call it. i will be using canola oil and lightly seasoned flour. and i’m gonna soak the chicken in buttermilk, oh yes, i am. and then then THEN i am going to fry the GLORIOUS chicken in GLORIOUS canola oil (even thought i really want to try olive oil, but it’s awful expensive to waste on 6 chicken tenders) and it’s going to BE GREAT or my name isn’t jaimie “chicken fried chicken” pickle. and technically it’s not.
but today today today i am Col. Jaimie Sanders of the 44th Battalion part of the Delta-niner Grease Regiment Ft. Fleegan.
semper fi!

which is totally the marines slogan and i know that so don’t e-mail me about how i got the army slogan and the marines slogan mixed up because i did it on purpose, ok?

anal-retentive military types and their foreign slogans! makes no sense. what is this? the latin army?

so you are all invited for fried chicken at jaimie’s house but please, don’t come over because i don’t have enough and i really don’t want people in my house and also i was planning on starting THE LAST SCARPETTA NOVEL, THANK YOU SWEET LORD TO WHOEVER RETURNED IT TO THE LIBRARY EARLY. I LOVE YOU AND WILL MAKE YOU FRIED CHICKEN AT A LATER DATE.

7.20.04
we made it back from tampa last night.

the funeral went fine, but apparently all baptist preachers are the same. uncle george was not a religious guy and probably went to the preacher’s church once or twice and STILL there was an altar call. it wouldn’t be so horrible if these preacher types weren’t so sanctimonious about it. like THEY’RE the ones SAVING the world. fuck you. and the dope didn’t even TRY to act like he knew george at all. it was like he had this pre-fab sermon and he just madlibbed uncle george’s first AND LAST NAME everytime he mentioned the guy. so there you go.

*****

reefer-er log fun:

the pickle page
how to pickle walnuts
pickle stuff
cat stuff with the mystic cat
buy cheez-its bleu cheese crackers

yo Cheez-it, looks like you owe me some money. pay up, sucka.

*****

i changed my cell phone rate plan. i tried to do it over the internet but it kept giving me this WARNING IF YOU CHANGE YOUR PLAN TO THIS PLAN THEN YOU WILL LOOSE THIS OTHER PART OF THIS OTHER PLAN THAT YOU ALREADY HAVE. and the thing i was losing (other than my glorious FREE 500 txt msgs) was some kind of $5 long distance thing. so i call t mobile and say, “what is this $5 long distance fee all about?” and their all, “you don’t need that anyway, since we’re on a nationwide long distance thing.” and i’m like, “oh really? i didn’t need to pay long distance ‘cos it’s free, but you’ve let me pay the extra $5 for the last 3 years anyway?”
“um.”
“yeah. anyway. change the plan.”
“do you want to change the plan now or on the 2nd when your next billing-”
“now. do it now. right now.”
“yes ma’am.”

i hate t mobile.

7.15.04
today is pj’s berfday. he’s 20-something. but in my mind he’s still like, 15. sorry peej.

my uncle george died. so my fam and i (and surprisingly, mr. fleegan) will be traveling south to the Tampa-ish region of the state of FLA. FLAH. uncle george was a pretty cool old guy. he always seemed pretty laid back and when he’d come to visit he’d crack open the first beer around 10am. i never knew if he did that just ‘cos he was on vacation or if he did this everyday. nevertheless it always impressed me.
i think he was a carpenter.

it’s sad that he’s gone but also maybe not so much. his wife died (aunt betty*. everyone’s got an aunt betty) a few years before and i think he had been lonely. so you know, now i’m thinking he’s not lonely anymore. so maybe it’s not all sad, right? half full. half full. half full.

*when i was leetle fleegan i always thought that aunt betty was rich or famous or both. why? because
a. her house was totally decked out in ’70s bling
b. she had real kleenex in like, every room.
3. she smoked cigarettes from a fancy cigarette case
d. she had perfectly long, perfectly painted finger nails which she insisted were real and not fake and i totally believed her because why would she lie to me?

to a 6 year old jaimie those things = rich. and to be completely honest, to a 26 year old jaimie those things pretty much = rich too. especially the kleenex.

and another good thing is i get to see my cousin bonnie. she is hilarious and i think she invented computers. so she’s probably rich too.

7.14.04
so. how’s everyone? great. fabulous. glad to hear it.

i’m still enjoying living by myself. i love the quiet. love it.
i love it so much that when the silence is interrupted by say, something loud and obnoxious like, military jets, cars with the loud rap music, the refrigerateor running, the phone ringing etc. i find that i get irritated for half a second or so. what the hell is that terrible noise?! oh. the air kicked on. air is good. i love air.

in other news:
i’ve got the poison ivy. i have no clue where i got it. LBC (poison ivy expert) says that i could have gotten it from Toonces Whorecat (who, by the way, i’ve taken to calling D.C. kinda like that old Disney movie, only D.C. doesn’t stand for Darn Cat or Damn Cat.) ‘cos she says that pets can carry it on their skin or fur or whatever. if that’s true then shouldn’t Toonces have poison ivy on her tongue? i mean, that cat licks herself SO MUCH and does it SO LOUDLY that i would think she’d have tongue rash or something.

my face itches.

i’ve been meaning to write a Weekly about moving and all, but i just haven’t gotten around to it. what with the computer not being at my house it’s kinda hard to keep updating. i’ll try to get on that soon.

******

people have been mistakenly led to my site this week by searching for:

new pickle radio
how to open a scrapbook store
drugs and pickle breath

7.11.04
does anyone know why there are military planes flying by my house so very low (with the loud LOUD engines), so low in fact that the pilot totally stuck his hand out and i high-fived him and asked, “what’s going on?” and the pilot was all, “what?! speak up! i can’t hear you!”, on a sunday morning?

morning being the key word here.

apparently downtown is THE place to be on sunday morning if you have a jet.
this sort of thing is not advirtised.

so it’s been a week since i moved over here. it’s been okay. i like being alone, but also there are times when being alone sucks. like at 5am and there’s scritching and scampering sounds coming from the air return vent thing (which is in my bedroom). like, rat scritching noises. i was able to wait until 6:30am to call dad.
“hello?”
“mom! what’s going on?”
“oh, you know, just…waking up. how about you?”
“oh same ol’ same ol’. say, is dad there?*”
“sure hold on.”

“herrm?”
“dad! hi.”
“herrm. *cough cough*”
“listen, when you come to pick me up for work today, could you come a little early? and bring a mousetrap with you?”
“um…yeah. jaimie?”
“great! i’ll see you around 8-ish?”
“i guess.”
“i’ll have coffee on.”
“mousetrap?”
“love you! bye!”

*mom used to get so mad when i would call and immediately ask for dad. but i think she has learned that when i do that it means, “hi mom, everything is alright. there is no immediate danger. but i need to talk to dad RIGHT NOW because *enter random broken thing* and i don’t know what to do.” but oh i can’t tell you how many times i called and asked for dad and she was all, “oh what? you don’t want to talk to me?” and it was like, “well mom, the jeep just shot a fireball out of the exhaust pipe and the engine is making a ticking noise. so if you know anything about how to fix that i’m all ears.”
“hold on, i’ll get your father.”

*****

there is a truck i’ve seen driving around town and in vinyl letters across the top of the windshield it tells the world to “don’t be hatin'” which is a phrase that thankfully, has not penetrated into mainstream (well, not like “ah’ll be bahck” and “yo quiero taco bell” and “i just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance…” and the like.) well, maybe it has made it to the mainstream and i just don’t know it. how could i? my friends and i are totally modcore. THE POINT IS this is not a phrase that my friends, family, people i see on a weekly basis, etc. ever say. and i’m glad for that.

however here’s this pick-up truck with it splashed across the windshield and it’s driving all over town and i see it once a day and the thing is, it says, ‘don’t be hatein'”

i feel like jerking that moron out of his truck and beating him with a dictionary in front of his friends. but see, the beating doesn’t stop there. there is a trail of beatings to dole out. think it, first the moron gets a beating for
A. putting something like that on his windshield and
B. misspelling it

then the sign shop or auto place that “detailed” the windshield gets a beating FOR NOT USING SPELL CHECK. HELLO? WHAT KIND OF JOINT ARE YOU RUNNING ANYWAY?

and of course all the moron’s buddies gets a beating for not recognizing/telling the moron that the CRAP HE HAS PLACED ON HIS WINDSHIELD IN GIANT 4 INCH LETTERS IS MISSPELLED.

oh well. it’s not the dumbest thing i’ve seen downtown. nope. the dumbest thing i’ve seen is the thug across the street taking the trash out, and he was wearing his pants all baggy and stupid low, like so we could all enjoy his blue underwear. and he makes it half way across the yard and his pants fall to his ankles.
“dad! DAD! come here and see this!” i yell to dad ‘cos he was in the kitchen.
he runs in and is all, “what?! what?!” i point and he starts laughing ‘cos here’s this thug with his pants around his ankles, he’s wearing light blue briefs and is struggling with this garbage can. the guy doesn’t stop what he’s doing to pull up his pants or nothing. he keeps waddling around with this trash can.
i mean sure, it’s a quiet street and all, but dude, you’re in the front yard!

7.10.04
the time: 8:47pm
the place: 805 A Newton Street

“jimmy, do you hear that noise?”
“yeah.”
“that’s a chainsaw. who uses a chainsaw at night?!”
“uhhh… Jason?”
“we’re in a tight spot.”

7.08.04
mr. fleegan finally got around to making a referer log for the site. this sort of thing really shows just how crazy the internet is. for instance someone found my site by searching msn.com for ‘what is an octogenarian cat’.

Dear Person Searching for What Is an Octogenarian Cat,

i would like to apologize on behalf of the Internet for you being directed to my site. Your query, which is an odd one, cannot be answered on my site. i know nothing about octogenarian animals, octogenarians in general, and actually i’m not that learned about cats (octogenarian or otherwise).

i could hypothesize however, that an octogenarian cat would be a cat which is 80 something years old. That is an old cat, my friend. Or, do cats age like dogs? With the whole 1 Human Year = 7 Dog Years. If so, then an octogenarian cat may be only 12 years old in Human Years. Still, that seems pretty old for any house pet. Well, cats do seem to live forever, don’t they? Mine does anyway.

It does raise a curious question though doesn’t it? i mean, if 1 HY = 7 CY, does that mean that a cat can break a mirror and only have 1 year of bad luck? Assuming, of course, that the cat is superstitious.

And i think we all know just how superstitious cats can be.
Like, Creole Superstitious.

Love,
Jaimie Pickle

7.07.04
i saw Toonces Whorecat for about 5 hours this morning. that would be from 12:30am to 5:00am.

To The Drug Dealer Who Is Giving My Cat PCP:
please stop. she thinks she’s constantly being chased or followed. and although i don’t mind her speaking spanish, she’s talking way too fast to understand what she’s saying.

love,

jaimie pickle

today (like most days) dad and i coined a new phrase. we often (and by often i mean at least 4 times a day) will say that something is as “hot as a cat on a hot tin roof” and we say it in that deep southern drawl. like in the movie. like how liz taylor’s character talked? anyway. the thing is, we try to change it up so that we don’t always say “cat on a hot tin roof” but to mean “cat on a hot tin roof” for instance we have been known to drawl, “well, it certainly is hottah thayan a cayat own a…hot…suhface. fo’ instance, like a roof made of metal or somethin’.” see? we’ve even said, “it’s hottah thayan a cayat with a cup of mcdonald’s coffee.”

but today, oh my today, we butchered it way further.

we worked at the Holy House today and when we repaint a room it’s because it hasn’t been painted in 20 years and the color it was painted was a light pink. no joke. these poor old people have been living in tiny, pink apartments. in fact, the old color is called Mystic Pink. gag.

so anyway i said, “mah, mah, this is pinkah thayan a cayat…”

and dad said, “…a shaved cat….”

“…own a hot tin roof, i do declayah.”

so there you go, pinker than a shaved cat on a hot tin roof.
try not to think about it too much. just know that we laughed WAY too hard at it.

7.04.04
yes. i haven’t updated since like, the war, and i would apologize for that if i was actually sorry. but see, i don’t have time to “feel sorry” or to “update a blog” or to “brush my teeth”.

this weekend i moved into the Dreamplex 1.0! yay!

what does this mean?

it means i live downtown, some would even say the ‘hood. and since we’re fairly certain that the assholes across the street are “dealing” something i’ll not argue the ‘hood point. it’s one of those middle sections, right? like one street up is the hoity-toity houses, and the street on the other side is nearly ghetto.

it means i brought Toonces Whorecat with me and i haven’t seen her since 2am. i hope she manages to come back. i have tons of cat food. in fact, i have more cat food than people food right now. if you were to come over to my house RIGHT NOW and be all, “jaimie, i’m hungry. whatcha got?” first i’d probably tell you to go home and eat YOUR OWN DAMN FOOD. but then since i’m really a nice person in real life i’d say, “my kitchen is your kitchen” and you could have your choice of:

piece of cheap white bread (raw or toasted) (with or without peanut butter)
oreos (with or without peanut butter)
coffee
beer
soda

i’d angle for the peanut butter slathered oreos if i were you.

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