November 2004 Dribblings

Category: dribblings

11.30.04
i forgot about how i said i’d take a picture of the dreamplex w/xmaslights. laura and liz took great pleasure in reminding me that i had promised and had not yet delivered.

i am the Queen of Broken Promises. (i am also the Queen of Never Returns a Phone Call. your call is in fact important to me. however, i’ll still end up not calling you back. i am sorry. things happen. i have moths for brains. ours not to reason why.) (also, tami sparks, i do not have your phone number. i was going to call you last week to see what you were doing for thanksgiving but the only number i have for you is the PIMP line and i know you don’t have that one anymore. i need your home number. so i can call when you aren’t at home and leave a message for the dog.)

so i went out in the rain and took this picture of the house. the specks are raindrops that reflected the flash. oops.


notice how liznchris’s side has nice bushes
and mine has a giant weed.
i should put lights on it.

11.29.04
i heard a noise in the tv room and went to check out just what the heck the cat was doing. as i entered the room i’m all, “what are you doing?…and why does it smell like shit in here?!”
well it turns out that
A. the cat isn’t in the house and
B. i can’t find any shit.

it has been a monday all day long.

case in point:

dad and i were working across the street from the lutheran church where mom works. so we ate our lunch at the church because it has chairs and bathrooms (the place we’re at has neither). on my way back to the house (dad left before me) i see a big white dog in the fence of the church’s playground area. gosh, i think to myself, how did that poor dog get trapped in their? i better let it out.

minutes later i see mom and i say, “hey mom, there was a white dog trapped in the playground so i let it out.”
“oh no.”
“what?”
“that was mow man’s dog.” she’s referring to the dude that mows the church’s lawn. apparently he’s a redneck that takes his dog everywhere he goes.
“shit.”

about 20 minutes and one mile later i catch the dog. i get back to work all winded and worn out and dad’s all, “what’s your problem? and where have you been?”
“i *puff puff* let the dog out *puff* woof. woof.”

monday.

monday, monday part the second:

so dad bought this fancy light stand that holds two halogen work lights (that turn on separately and swivel separately and aren’t you jealous?) on it. and he handed the box to me and in a tv voice said, “your parents put it together.” and then he left the room to paint a wall. so i start assembling the light kit. i get the stand set up and the lights mounted and all that’s left to do is put the bulbs in. i’ve mentioned my light bulb problem before. well, these are the hoity-toity halogen bulbs that are skinny and you can’t touch them with your fingers or the baby jesus cries (or something) so i manage to get the bulb out of it’s bubble wrapper and i’m holding it by said wrapper and i’m trying to cram it into the light. but it feels like i’m gonna break it. so i call dad in for backup.
“dad. i can’t do this.”
“dammit. do i have to do everything?”
“apparently.”
so he snaps it in place no problem. we then plug the lamps in and turn on the light to see if it works and i’ll be darned, it does.

so he goes back to work and i start working on the second light. i finally get the bulb out and the wrapper is in the middle and i’m going to put it in the light come hell or high water. so i jam the bulb in there and click it’s in! it’s OH MY GOD! DAD! DAD! UNPLUG THE LIGHT! UNPLUG THE LIGHT! JESUS CHRIST UNPLUG THE LIGHT!

apparently that light was switched on at the factory. too bad there was NO WAY IN HELL ANYONE WOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT. dad (who is in another room when all this happens, but he is in the room where everything is plugged in.) unplugs the bitch and comes running in my room all, “what?! is there a fire? did the bulb break?!”

meanwhile i’m standing there rubbing my fists into my eyes which have tears in them. all i can see when i close my eyes is a giant blue box and when i open my eyes all i see is a giant orange box.
“shit. i’m blind.”
“what happened?”
“check the bulb dad. i think the bubble wrap melted to it.”
“what happened?”
“the light was on. so when i plugged the bulb in, it just, it just fucking exploded into my retinas.”
“oh. ow.”
“do i still have eyes or are they just smoking holes of doom?”
“uh. open them up.”
“i can’t. my head feels like it’s split in two.”

an hour later dad asks, “how do you feel now?”
“i feel like i’ve got a wine headache. right here. behind my eyes.”
“yeah, that probably didn’t do your eyes any good.”
“i can’t see colors anymore. it’s all faded and white.”
“maybe that’s because we’ve just painted this room and ceiling white.”
“yeah well. i’m not touching that light anymore. it’s the Danger Light.”
“yeah. i burned myself on it when i moved it.”
“see? and? the stand is painted red. and you know what that means.”
“it’s Craftsman?”
“nooo it’s Dangerous. like, eye burning, brow singeing Dangerous.”
“it is a Craftsman.”
“it’s about to be broken.”

11.28.04
found my bass. in the last place i looked, of course.
‘cos that’s where you always find things.
‘cos that’s where they are.
the worship set went well. i was a dunderhead for being worried, i guess. i was particularly thrilled to get to hear liz sing. if we weren’t friends i’d stalk her. but not really, ‘cos i’m too lazy to stalk. even though we live right next door. my laziness knows no bounds. and really, i don’t have a Stalker’s Heart.

laura and kris also sang, but i couldn’t hear them so much ‘cos i don’t know why. i don’t think they were in the monitor mix as much as liz. but i’m sure that the three of them together was oh…what’s the word i’m looking for…scrumtrelescent. yes, that’s it.

God showed up, and i think he’s trying to kill me. or at least make me puke and cry. He moves in mysterious ways. i believe i’ve mentioned the terrifyingness of it all? that which does not kill us only makes us wish we were dead. i kid.

*****

if it doesn’t rain in the morning i think liz and i are going to go walking. it’s going to be cold and miserable, but maybe just maybe, it’ll be worth it.

it won’t. but. it just goes to show you how easy it would be to stalk liz.

11.27.04
today kris put christmas lights on the porch(es) of the dreamplex. they are white lights, and they look very nice. i’ll try to take a picture of them tomorrow night. and maybe post it here? because i’m sure you all care.

i forgot to eat lunch today. i do that sometimes. usually on the weekends or on the days i don’t work. laura did remind me of lunch today at 3pm but then it didn’t make sense to eat anything at 3pm since dinner was only going to be a couple hours away. so like a moron i did not eat (note to self: get a box of granola bars for such an occasion) so at dinner time i ate my sandwich like someone was going to take it away from me and now…3 hours later i’m still feeling sick.

i know that if i would just throw up i’d feel better, but oh man, i don’t want to throw up.
so queasy.
so bloated.
so wish i wasn’t a dumbass.

i would forgive myself if this wasn’t something that happened very often.

must. buy. granola bars.

tomorrow is sunday and sunday=church. i’m nervous about church because
A. it’s church, and God will probably be there. (heh. be there? of course he’ll be there. he’ll be saving me a seat all, “hey jaimie, come sit by me!” all excited. and i’ll be thinking to myself, “oh no. there’s God, and he wants me to sit next to him. crap. now i’ll have to behave and pay attention to the sermon.” and he’ll be all, “i heard that, jaimie.” and i’ll be all, “shit!” “that too.” “AIEEEEE!”)

B. i’m playing bass on the worship team and i haven’t played bass in several months (almost a year). i don’t even know if all my crap still works. do i have cables? do i use a direct box? is there a line out on my amp? where’s my amp? where’s the bass?

C. the worship team is liz, laura, kris, and myself. we haven’t all played together since we were in a band and i just hope we’re able to worship and not be all weird or whatever. i hope we make a joyful noise.

D. i’m sure it will all be fine.

E. where is my bass?

11.26.04
i am afraid of God. and i think that’s a good thing. it’s probably a good idea to fear a deity. however, i suppose my fear is different than just the awe/respect fear. my fear is a genuine “he knows everything? and he has the power to smite?!” kind of fear. my friends think that this fear is a little too fearsome. and they are probably right.

11.24.04
this week on fleegan reefer log:
bumfights coupon*
angelica’s smoke shop t-shirt
krylon hammered
i am full of christ’s love**
excersise cheer stuff
delta dawn wav files
funny pitchers of the movie eurotrip***
what the hell is a pickle****

*again! yay!
**uh oh. could searches for Saved! finally rescue me from all the eurotrip searches?
***obviously not. also, pitchers?.
****indeed!

*****

today we worked at the Holy House. as i’ve mentioned before, the Holy House is an affordable housing high rise apartment complex for older people. this means that at lunch time the elevators (2) are very busy as the Meals on Wheels folks (they call it Manna* here) have their buggy (shopping cart) full of tasty hospital food for the poor old people, and they have to stop at each and every floor (15) to deliver the meals. this? is not a problem for me. but apparently? it is for them.

the two ladies (boneheads) who were delivering the meals today looked like they were having as much fun as say, someone who had to walk on rusty nails and puddles of lemon juice in their bare feet all day. so on the 11th floor dad and i get to the elevator and there’s Mrs. Sourpuss and her manna sidekick Pissy. the elevator opens and they quickly push their cart into the elevator and then turn to us and our cart (full of painting stuff) and say, “i guess you’ll have to wait for the next one.” door closes.

well first of all, we could’ve crammed in there. they were going to be getting off at the very next floor so it wasn’t like we were taking a 6 hour road trip in that elevator or anything. but fine. so we wait for the next one. it took like, 6 minutes.
sheeze.

so a bit later i (me, as in, just me, no cart, no dad) have to get on the elevator on the 7th floor to go to the lobby. so the doors open and there’s Bitchy and Slappy with their cart of food. Bitchy says, “you’ll have to wait for the other one.”

what? i don’t think so, lady. no way i’m waiting 5 minutes for the elevator again. not when i can easily fit in that car with you and your little dog too.

so i got on anyway. “nah, i’ll fit.” and i’m totally blocking the door, but only because they have the cart in the middle of the elevator, like how a retarded monkey would have positioned the cart. so my plan is when the ‘vator gets to the 6th floor and the door opens, i’ll step out of the ‘vator to let the two boneheads out.

it stops and while the door is still opening the Alpha Twit says, “you’re gonna have to move.” like, no kidding lady? like i thought we could try to break all the rules of science and you could push the cart through me. so i step off and let them pass and i get back on and ride it down to the lobby.

so see, lady? the world didn’t stop spinning because i got on the elevator with you and your henchman and your cart full of nutritious old people food. and? you get no points for volunteer work when you act all self-sacrificing and put out. poor pitiful you.

11.23.04
i’ve been drinking diet soda lately ‘cos the regular soda has been giving me sugar fits. i dunno if it’s cos my gall bladder is gone or what, but diet soda has become a total laxative for me. at first i thought it was just diet dr pepper, which is basically carbonated prune juice. but no. even diet coke is like Super Colon Blow.
i’m talking deep, deep cleansing colonics here.

i’m wondering if it will get better, or if it will be this way forever. i hope it goes away ‘cos diet cherry coke is really awesome.

*****

mr fleegan and i saw National Treasure last night. it’s pretty stupid, but i liked that it was a treasure movie that was all about american history and not egypt or cambodia or nazi germany. so they get points for that.

*****

in other news: BAD OMEN

yesterday dad and i went to some lady’s house to fix her louvred (spanish?) closet doors that had fallen apart (chinese f*ck puzzle). so we fix the door and all is good. but then we’re standing in the kitchen, dad is by the counter and i’m at the sink looking out the window, like 8 inches away from the window when all of a sudden this bird comes out of nowhere and smacks the window, 8 inches from my face.

BAM!

i know, you’re probably thinking that i screamed some kind of profanity, but no. i don’t even think i breathed. it scared me that bad.

dad was all, “holy smokes!”

and i was all starey and gapey, thinking about Threshold.

“are you okay?”
“not. at. all.”
“y’know, it’s bad luck just seeing something like that.”
“bad. f*cking. omen.”
“i’m glad i was standing over here.”
“i need to change my underwear.”

11.22.04
who moved my gaddam cheese? gaddamit!

so. my internet is so fast that i can download like, video clips of things and actually watch them. it’s really neat. but, as spiderman says, “with great power comes great responsibility.” and so, the thing is, now i have to give up my e-mail address. my e-mail address mind you that i’ve had since al gore invented the internet. (bitch).

i am the only person i know who has had the same e-mail addy since time began. i’m talking like 8 years. and now, i have to close that account ‘cos i have DSL (sorry dan, i sold out, but also? it wasn’t completely my fault and i think you know that.) and it makes no sense to keep paying my ISP money for an e-mail address if i don’t even use their service anymore.

PISS!

i am so upset about this. and i shouldn’t be, i know. it’s progress or whatever. and laura has been trying to make me see that it’s not a big deal.

BUT IT IS A BIG DEAL. AND I HATE IT. I AM SO UPSET THAT WHEN I THINK ABOUT CALLING UP MY isp AND TELLING THEM, “SORRY BOYS, BUT I’VE MOVED ON. NO, NO…IT’S NOT YOU…IT’S ME.” THAT MY HEART RATE PICKS UP AND THERE’S A ROARING IN MY EARS AND I CAN’T SEE BECAUSE EVERYTHING HAS FADED TO WHITE. YES, I HAVE A DAMN ANXIETY ATTACK JUST THINKING ABOUT CANCELLING MY ACCOUNT.

BECAUSE!

I JUST DO!

i just…it’s just that…

oh man. i don’t know.

sadness.

so anyway. for the time being you can e-mail me at fleegan at gmail dot com.

that will probably change soon ‘cos jimmy says he’ll make me a fleegan account.
i’ll post that as soon as i get it.

le sigh.

11.21.04
so i’ve moved my computer to my house.
i had to get a new desk for it though as the old one was too big to move and too big for my room. so i went to Orifice Max and bought a new desk and Kris was nice enough to build it for me. so now not only is my computer at my house but it is no longer sitting on the floor of my room looking all forlorn and gimpy. now it looks glorious.

as i was cleaning off my old desk i found a piece of paper that appeared to be a list of things that i had written down. i can’t tell exactly what the list was for, and it appears that i wrote the items on the list at different times because some of it is in black ink and some blue and there’s even a couple in red.

here’s the list:

the fidelity of a kennedy
encyclopedia brown
lord steven segal
godzilla-sized
could make a statue weep
pantone numbers
DIY
pleasing aftertaste
geometric solids
crackwhore-ectomy
should file a restraining order
ACME ANYTHING
meta
stephen king short stories
gasoline rainbow
inspector gadget
Platform 9 3/4
pre-tornadic stillness
Nurse Ratchet
so good i could have ascended
my inner jew
Old Scratch (this one was in red ink)
Amontillado (also in red)
oversoul
gum surgery
i feel like i’ve been dragged through a keyhole
sleeper

what on earth was i going to do with this list? the date on the paper was 6.1.2003 and that means nothing to me.
by the way, Old Scratch? what the-? like, hey, the 18th Century called, they need their term back.
geezy peezy.

11.20.04
i talked to my leetle brather today. he’s been playing MK: Deception too.

jc: hey, i beat Mortal Kombat today.
jl: you did?! holy cow that’s fast. i’ve been playing it for four days straight.
jc: which part are you on?
jl: i’m having to fight as Shujinko now and it sucks ‘cos-
jc: ‘cos there’s no special moves for him, i know.
jl: yeah! what’s up with that? and? i’m getting beaten over and over by someone named Tanya.
jc: yeah she’s hard to beat.
jl: Tanya. what kind of name is that anyway? i mean, all these crazy names: Scorpion, Sub-zero, Mileena, Sindel, Baraka, Noob Saibot,… Tanya?
jc: hee. i know. but you’re close to finishing the game. once you beat Tanya then i think you have to train with one more person.
jl: oh really? so i’m close?
jc: yep.
jl: cool. i’ve unlocked 3 other players.
jc: really? i’ve unlocked Kenshi.
jl: oh yeah, i totally have Kenshi.
jc: who else do you have?
jl: i’ve got Kira and some guy called…Hogart? no. Hotaru? i think?
jc: Hotaru. yeah.
jl: all those names and Tanya was the best they could do?
jc: i know.

so i guess i’m close to finishing the game which means i’ll be able to get on with my life. yay!

11.19.04
sorry for the three day no update blog.
i’ve been playing Mortal Kombat: Deception (or as i like to call it Mortal Kombat: For Girls) for about, well, 3 days. this game is whack. it, has a plot? in Konquest mode you play as Shujinko. it’s really just a way for you to learn all the players’ moves. i like that. however, it’s really redundant. really redundant. really.

redundant.

anyflorp. the thing i hate about it is Shujinko is a moron. it is SO FLOPINGLY OBVIOUS that Damashi is LYING about EVERYTHING. and yet there’s nothing you can do to stop Shujinko from blindly doing Damashi’s bidding in the name of the Elder Gods. the game forces you to be a dumbhole. i hate that. i mean, Shujinko is even more gullible than me in real life. and kids, i’m quite gullible. ask jimmy, laura, or liz. they all lie.

my guess is that Shujinko is the Chinese word for goober.

during your adventure in Konquest mode you Kollect different kolored koins and use them as kurrency in the krypt to unlock characters and movies and such. that part is kinda kool.

in Kombat mode i get to the level where Noob and Smoke double team your ass and i lose every time.
every. time.
redundant.

also, what is up with those combo (sorry, kombo) moves? i’m playing it on PS2 and holy geez, 9 buttons in a row!? shut up, Scorpion!
yeah, like it’s possible to do that when someone is killing your ass with a giant axe.
waste. of. time.

also on the game is a demo for another game called Area 51. i think it’s like Halo for the PS2, only i didn’t run out of ammo. when i play Halo i die a lot and also i run out of ammo. Area 51 has a machine gun that when i fire it the kontroller vibrates and shakes so hard it feels like i shoved a screwdriver into an electric outlet.

so anyway, that’s what i’ve been doing for the past 3 days.

*****

in other news. i’m finally going to take my computer to my house. what does this mean? it means that it’ll actually be convenient for me to update this b-log and surf the “net“. does this mean i’ll update every day? does this mean you’ll actually get a Weekly weekly?
skknt. yeah. sure.

you would. except y’know, Mortal Kombat!
GET OVER HERE!

11.16.04
Dear Rust-oleum® Unique Hammered Finish and Regular Satin Black spray paint,

I heart thee. You make my old shit look like new shit, nay, look like the shit. The good kind of shit. The kind of shit that when other people see it they say, “Where did you get that lovely piece of shit?” and you say, “What? That old thing? I just spray painted it. Doesn’t it look like awesome shit?” “Why, yes, yes it does look like awesome shit, Jaimie. You sure are clever.” and then you say, “Aw, heck. It’s just spray paint.” and then they say, “Krylon™?” and then you’re all, “Krylon™?! What are you gay?” and they’re all, “Hey!” and you’re all, “It’s Rust-oleum®, you gay.” and they’re all, “Gay?! What the hell?” and you’re all, “What?” and they’re all, “You can’t say that!” and you’re all, “Can’t say what? Rust-oleum®?”

And so they’re all, “You are such a bitch.” and you’re all, “It’s not my fault you don’t know about Rust-oleum®.” but they’re all, “I know about Rust-oleum®, you ass, I just don’t know why you used Rust-oleum® on wicker.”

So you’re all, “God, i know. But that’s what dad bought.” and they’re all, “Yeah right. And? You couldn’t spray paint your way out of a wet paper sack.”
“Hey!”
“Please, have you seen the runs on this?”
“That was my practice board, you ass clown.”
“Practice board? Okay, now who’s the gay?”
“You can’t-!”
“I did.”
“But-”
“Too late.”
“I hate-”
“I know.”

O, Rust-oleum®! With your Hammered Metal Textured Finish…
In A Can!
O, blessed can of aerosol!
You spray your Magic Texture of Joy on my old switch plates
And you make them look like:
A million bucks!
For mere nickels!
Pennies per sray!

Thank you O, Wonderous Spray!
I know not how you work
But I thank the Heavens for thee!
The same Heavens, I should add,
That are destroyed every time i spray
Thou aerosol into thine ozone!
Tss! tss! tss! tss!
Eight to twelve inches away from the object!
From right to left and
Left to right!
I shall cover the world with thee!

Thank you for your wonderful product. It has truly made that crappy wicker thing in my parents’ bathroom look like a newer version of the old wicker thing. The only way to improve upon it more would be if you had a spray that made pieces of shit wicker into non-wicker. Man, that’d be awesome. Maybe you guys and the boys at DuPont could get on that?
M’kay, thanks.

Hogs and Kisses,

Jaimie Pickle

11.15.04
i really, really, really need to invest in a video camera. i’m thinking a digital one. so i can put scenes from my work day on this blog and save me the trouble of typing the whole thing out.
i’m sitting on a goldmine here.
the Discovery Channel would pick us up in no time. then i’d have a tv show and a corporate sponsor. two birds enter; one stone leaves.
i’m rich. the end.

11.14.04
a good time was had by all.

while visiting little bro mr. fleegan and i had to share a bed.
SCANDAL!

anyway. he is a total cover hog (admittedly the covers on the bed were too small for that size bed. the edges of the cover just barely reached the edge of the bed.). i had to wake him up three times in one night.
“hey jimmy.”
“hm? yeah?”
“how ’bout some covers?”
“okay.”

hour later:
“jimmy.”
“wha?”
“you stole the covers again.”
“sorry. here.”

later:
“hey.”
“hm?”
“covers.”
“oh.”

but what was so funny was the first night we were there he and justin stayed up til 4am playing video games. so by the next evening jimmy was pretty much worn out. so he went to bed first. when i went in the bedroom to go to bed he was on his side of the bed and sleeping. so i go to the bathroom and go and brush my teeth (which takes all of 1 minute, right?) and i get back to the bedroom and he is sprawled all over the whole bed.
“hey!” i say, “you can’t do that!”
“hm? wha? what i do?”
“you’re on both sides of the bed.”
“oh.”

i thought he was being funny. but he wasn’t. he turned over and fell right back to sleep.

*****

another funny conversation we had this weekend:
before i go to take a shower i say to jimmy, “now i expect you to have this game beaten by the time i get back.” (he’s been playing Halo 2)
so i’ve finished my shower and i’m dressed and i’m putting on my socks and i look over at the game he’s playing and i see credits rolling.
“did you just beat your game?”
“huh, i guess i did.”
“you just got it the other day!”
“i know.”
“i can’t believe you’ve beat it already.”
“well, you told me to.”
“oh yeah. i guess i did. but now what are you gonna do?”
“wait for the third one to come out.”
“well they have you trained, don’t they.”
“and the good thing is that when the third one comes out it’ll be on the xbox2.”
“xbox2?! already?! but, but no! why?”
“c’mon jaimie, xbox2.”
“but i thought that this xbox was the gaming system. what’s the second one going to have that’s better?”
“the second one will control me more completely.”

****

conversation on the way home:
at some point during the weekend i mention to jimmy that i’m thinking about getting an excercise bike. so on the way home he says, “hey, you want me to get you an excercise bike for christmas?”
“um. no.”
“but i could-”
“no.”
“what?”
“jimmy, don’t ever buy your girlfriend excersise equipment.”
“but you said-”
“it doesn’t matter. don’t do it.”
“why not?”
“‘cos that’s like saying, “merry christmas, fatty.” so no.”
“but you’re not-”
“doesn’t matter. just don’t do it.”

11.12.04
today the fleegan and i are going to visit my leetle brahther in TN. it’s the first time that jimmy and i have gone to visit little hoostin. i’ve gone with laura a couple times and i think liz went with us once. but jimmy has never been. so there you go.
jimmy i worried about staying with them but i assured him that it would be okay now that justin has moved out of that nasty house that he shared with 3 other people and 2 farking dogs.
now justin lives in some fancy apartment complex, and his apartment is bigger than the house i live in. i’m very glad that he doesn’t live with those skanked hippies anymore. don’t get me wrong, the hippies are good people, just not very clean.

dad and best went to visit him last week. dad told me that if i wanted to cook anything while i was up there to be sure to bring whatever i needed.
“like, what do you mean?”
“like, if you cook something you’ll need to bring everything you need to cook it.”
“are you serious?”
“heart attack.”
“how is that possible?”
“i’m talking everything. wait, i think they have salt.”
“he’s been out of the house for four years. how do you not accummulate, y’know, things?”
“he eats a lot of sonic, you know.”

i can’t wait to spend the weekend playing video games and eating sonic with my little brother!

11.11.04
armistice day!

okay, i have a Stoopid Girl Story starring Me as the Stoopid Girl.

so i had a maxi pad in my back pocket (the best stories always start out with great lines. “it was the best of times; it was the worst of times.” “call me ishmael.” “he was a dark and stormy knight.”* etc. so a story with an opener like, “i had this maxi pad in my pocket.” you know it’s going to be a great story.

so i had a maxi pad in my back pocket. Always™ makes the Ultra Thin (with wings! they fly!) pads and they fit easily and unnoticibly in a back pocket. they are the crowning achievement of maxi pads thus far in history. in fact, i think they’re brilliant.

Dear Always™ Ultra Thin Maxi Pads,

Hi. You don’t know me but i use your product at least once a month. i have this website that gets, i dunno, a little over a thousand hits a month. Anyway, i’m looking (always looking) for a corporate sponsor for the site mainly so i can say things like, “fleegan.com is sponsored by Nabisco!” and also for the money and freebies. Oh yes, i want freebies. Jackets, hats, snacks, whatever.

You should really think about being my corporate sponsor. Because i could really talk up your pads and whatnot. Y’see, i tell stories on my site and people (usually) laugh at them. Laughing makes people happy. And we all know that happy consumers are spendy consumers. In short, you sponsor this site and i’ll post your logo (very nearly at the top of the page!) and totally talk about your pads and make people laugh about funny things like menses. It’ll be great!

Be sure to make the check out to Jaimie Pickle (note the two i’s) or better yet, just send a pile of cash (i won’t tell uncle sam if you won’t!) and i’ll get started on a new more pastel-ly look to the site to make it more feminine. Tell you what, you send some freebies and i’ll even add some wings to the site! “fleegan.com, now with wings!” Could this be the beginning of a beautiful friendship or what?

Can’t wait to start working with you,

Jaimie Pickle

okay, where was i? oh yeah, so i had this pad in the back pocket of my work clothes. and i forgot all about it and threw my work clothes in the hamper. totally forgot. anyway, long, boring story short, two days later when i’m doing laundry and putting the wet clothes in the drier, i look at the bottom of the washer to get the last of the socks and what’s this? damn, i must’ve left that in a pocket or something. oh well, it’s no good now. i guess i’ll throw it away.

i was impressed that it didn’t fall apart. the packaging was still intact, and none of the adhesive (on the wrapper) had come unglued. but the best part of all is that the damn thing weighed four pounds! OMG! i lifted it out of the washer and started laughing immediately at it’s new heftiness. and it was the same size, it hadn’t swelled up or anything. oh man, so much laughing.

dad was all, “what’s so funny about laundry?”

hee.

*laura once typed a story that started out, “He was a dark and stormy knight.” on a piece of torn, yellow legal pad paper. why i can remember that i have no idea.

11.10.04
i am about to do you guys all a favor:
RUN. DO NOT WALK TO YOUR FAVORITE MUSIC STORE AND BUY A WONDERFUL PRESENT FOR YOURSELF: LORETTA LYNN’S NEW ALBUM VAN LEAR ROSE IS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING.

and now for Good Jaimie/Bad Jaimie* Theatre. this week’s epitomb: I’m a Little Bit Country

“jaimie, what the hell? what’s with the country music kick?”
“what?”
“you used to hate that stuff.”
“shut it.”
“i mean, you were a Nirvana fan of all things and-”
“what’s that got to do with anything? i still like Nirvana. i guess.”
“you guess? and Metallica? i suppose “you guess” you still like them too?”
“what?! i LOVE metallica! you know that! what is your-”
“your obsession with Johnny Cash is embarassing.”
“my what?! i DO NOT have-”
“yeah right.”
“hey!”
“and how many Johnny Cash CDs do you have now?”
“only 3. that’s not so many. i mean, i’ve got like, 20 Tori CDs.”
“and when was the last time you listened-”
“shut up shut up.”
“i saw you eyeing that Marty Robbins box set.”
“so! so what! i don’t HAVE to listen to just, you know, hard rock or whatever! i can listen to whatever i want! i can listen to big band swing music if i want to!”
“i believe you did that already. 8th grade wasn’t it?”
“i hate you!”
“i am you.”
“i don’t care! you’re mean!”
“and you’re telling people to buy the coal miner’s daughter’s latest. so who’s the sicko?”
“it’s great music! i’m glad to tell people about great music!”
“your friends are worried about you.”
“no they aren’t!”
“jimmy says he doesn’t know you anymore.”
“lies!”
“he thinks your obsession with Johnny Cash is weird.”
“you leave jimmy out of this! AND Johnny too!”
“takin’ care of your fellas, huh? your good ol’ boys? gonna buy a Highwaymen album next?”
“cut your throat, you monster!”
“you used to be cool, jaimie. you had blue hair. now look at you. brown hair? and you don’t even booze it up anymore. what’s happened to you?”
“nothing has happened! i’m still cool! i’m VERY cool! i’ve just widened my spectrum of listenable music, that’s all. there’s nothing wrong with-”
“it’s that damn gall bladder. they took your cool.”
“are you crazy?!”
“i’m not the one buying Loretta Lynn’s newest.”
“it’s a great album!”
“this all started with that damn Dolly Parton CD. then you had to go and download Delta Dawn.”
“Delta-? that’s a classic song! you cannot argue with-”
“please. listen to yourself. you’re advocating that hillbilly music.”
“it’s not- so?! i like songs that tell a story.”
“oh my sweet simpleton.”
“you can’t call me that!”
“poor, innocent jaimie.”
“hey!”
“i can’t believe society allows you to drive a car.”
“okay, now that’s just-”
“tsk tsk.”
“you know, you’re the one that’s sad. you’re totally limiting your musical-”
“aw, you’re so cute.”
“you are just a cold hearted bitch.”
“namecaller.”
“totally unreasonable. i can’t talk to you anymore.”
“oh you’re breaking my heart.”
“that’s it. i’m outta here.”
“oh sure, run away. big baby.”
“now who’s the namecaller?”
“ha! i knew you’d come back!”
“forget it. i’m gonna go download more music.”
“well for the love, throw some Prodigy or Chemical Brothers in the mix for me.”
“not on your life.”
“it’s your life!”
“yeah, and we’re downloading Loretta. love it or die.”
“i hate you.”
“…”
“i suppose when we get home you’re going to force me to watch CMT?”
“not listening.”
“hm? gonna watch that redneck channel?”
“buh-bye.”
“gonna set the alarm to a country station?”
“…”
“so tomorrow you want to download the whole Glen Campbell oeuvre?”
“are you finished?”
“hm? big Charlie Rich fan maybe?”
“ah. not finished.”
“Porter Wagoner much?”
“you’re reaching.”
“Hank?”
“farther…”
“i know! Tammy!”
“stretching…”
“D-I-V-O-R-”
“gone.”

*anyone notice that Good Jaimie/Bad Jaimie seems more like Impatient Jaimie/Impatient Jaimie?

11.09.04
the Pickle House was mentioned on LBC’s Blog of Dirty Secrets the other day. she mentions 2 things:
A. the Pickle House has only one pair of unlocatable scissors and
2. only one television set despite the fact that four people used to live there at one time and two of them were small kids (at one time).

all of this crazy talk is entirely true. mostly. first let me tell you about part A.

A. when i was a kid we had two pair of scissors. they were chrome and very old. also there was one pair of hair cutting scissors and you were not allowed to use those scissors for anything ever or you would be drawn and quartered and beaten. eventually the two antique chrome scissors vanished to the place where missing socks go.

odd note: the two ancient scissors were never seen at the same time ever. one of them has a rust spot on one of the blades and that’s how we knew that there were two scissors floating around the house. but like i say, they were never able to be found at the same time. this became a really big deal at christmas wrapping time.

two years ago justin, oops, hoostin, bought mom a kitchen knife set and it came with some heavy-duty utility scissors and at this point in time those are the ONLY scissors that mom and dad have. not that they’ve ever thrown out a pair of scissors mind you, it’s just that all the others disappeared. including the hair cutting scissors.

not so odd note: i took the hair cutting scissors when i moved out of the house. however, i have no idea where the hell they are as i have moved like, 4 times since then. laura, did you end up with them?

2. the television. yes, we are the only family i know that only had one TV in the house. my brother and i didn’t watch a whole lot of TV as kids (unless it was raining). my mom forced us to play outside. with each other.
it was horrible.
all that fun and bike riding.
pure torture.

but actually when we had ninetendo and sega i remember we did have an old TV down in the den (which was actually a converted garage) that we could play our games on. it didn’t have cable but we didn’t care as long as we could play mario and zelda we were happy.
it had a small crack in the screen.
anybody crying yet? didn’t think so.

and here it is 15 years or so later and mom and dad still only have one TV. it’s not a very big TV but at least it’s color. i mean, it’s not a small TV. but it’s not huge either. i’m a girl, so i have no idea how big it is.

C. as for laura and all of her tape. well, there’s never any tape at mom and dad’s house. never has been. oh sure, they buy it. they buy it a lot. but it hides.
with the scissors.
and they laugh.
at all of us.
this becomes an issue at christmas wrapping time.

11.06.04
i uh, i finally got around to changing my voice mail message. it’s only been 4 years.

me: hey dad. i changed my voice mail message yesterday.
dad: thank god.
me: what?
dad: jaimie, that other one was lame.
me: what?! wh-what?!
dad: lame.
me: i don’t- why didn’t you tell me?
dad: well it wasn’t lame like, it wasn’t bad exactly. it was just. old. played. i hated it.
me: really?
dad: really. so you’ve got a new one, huh?
me: …
dad: so what’s it say?
me: i don’t want to talk about it.
dad: aw, c’mon. don’t be that-
me: nope. not talking about it.
dad: jaimie-
me: lalalalalalalala

11.05.04
there’s a new weekly.

11.03.04
i woke up this morning and it was raining. so i figured that bush won and that god was crying.

i predict WWIII by 2006. on U.S. soil no less.

way to go america.

reefer log:
live football on satellite/spanish
picture of a pickle
mr. panty cz
pickle’s food and fun
homer says hello in a funny way wav

internet, you confuse me.

11.01.04
why is it that all of a sudden being a house painter seems like the lamest thing ever? i feel like a loser. like i have nothing to offer to anybody. i used to be smart and i had a job i was really good at. and now i paint houses.
what the hell was i thinking?

i visited the sign shop some days ago and now they have three people working there. it took three fucking people to replace me. wtf? the reason i quit was ‘cos i asked for a raise and they wouldn’t gimme one. so now they hire three people? all i wanted was $10 an hour. now they’re paying 3 people pro’ly $6 an hour each.
the hell?
anyone?

why am i the one feeling bad about all of this?
it’s gotta be pms, right?

someone beat me over the head with a blunt object and let’s just get this over with, please.

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