The Swimsuit Edition

Category: weekleez

The Swimsuit Edition
June 17, 2003

hi kids,

first off, a shout out to Wisconsin Wendy who fell down and broke her crown. she cracked her head up good from what i hear. so put your prayer hats on, kids, and send one up for the lady with the busted skull. poor wendy.

so the other day it was almost warm out. and i thought to myself that it might be a good time to get out the old bathin’ suit and go for a swim in mom and dad’s pool.

so i got out my bathing suit from last year and, damn, what happened to it? i’m not sure, but it’s the same thing that happens every three or years…my bathing suit disintigrated. why does it do that?!

i’m thinking it’s gotta be the pool chemicals. but that doesn’t really help me much, right? because the only thing i can do is go out and buy a new bathin’ suit. oh god, is there anything worse? girls? is there?

as if waking up being me every day isn’t hard enough, this day i have to wake up still being me and go buy a new bathin’ suit. and i already know that it’s not going to be good, right? ‘cos the last time i bought a new suit was at least 6 years ago. because i remember going with jimmy to buy my last suit which was green i think. poor jimmy.

well that one disintegrated three years ago, right on schedule. and i thought that that was ok as i’m not huge fan of swimming anyway. i mean, sure back in the day i was in the pool from sun up to sun down complete with bloodshot eyes from opening my eyes underwater (we were too poor to have masks and goggles when i was wee) green hair (from the chlorine) and the painful, ever-present swimmer’s ear.

but then mom came home one day with a bathin’ suit and said, “here. i bought this.” which was mom’s way of saying, “hey jaimie, i bought this bathing suit for you ‘cos i know how lazy you are and that you won’t go out and buy a new one and you’ll just sit outside and watch people swim while you just burn up and get bitten by bugs and drink the summer away.”

what can i say? mom and i have a special relationship.

“uh, oh. thanks mom.” i said, which she took to mean, “oh jesus god thanks mom, you saved my life! how did you know what size to get oh who cares let me get this on so i can go soak in the pool and not get bitten by bugs and drink the summer away, you’re the best.”

she replied with, “you’re welcome.” which actually meant, “you’re welcome.”

that suit lasted me for three years and right up until the other day when i pulled it out and it turned to dust, like ancient papyrus, in my hands. “ah rats!” i said which really meant, “jimminy christmas! has it been three years already? oh god what am i gonna do?! this is just the pits! ok ok don’t panic jaimie, we can get through this. first thing we do…get a beer. then tomorrow, we go for a new bathin’ suit…ok? plenty of time to mentally prepare to submit yourself to the trauma that is bathing suit shopping. ok? it’s all gonna be ok.”

ok. sure. it’s all gonna be ok.

look, it’s never ok, ok? and the girls know that.

there is nothing more damaging to the self-esteem than to have to try spandex casing after spandex casing of brightly colored material only to have to turn around and face the Mirror of Truth and Horrors.
“oh god! is there someone behind me? no wait, that’s just my fat ass.” sigh.

i managed to find a suit that actually has a collar which i thought was hilarious, ‘cos i mean, that’s so me. but the scary part is that it zips up the front.
it zips. up. the front.

basically i look like a fat porn star. my summer is complete. pass the booze, a’ight? look, shut up and pass the booze.

s’anyway, enough about my bathin’ suit adventures.
you won’t believe my legs.

my legs look like they did when i was 11 years old. they are bug bit and scratched up like you would not believe, in fact, the only thing they’re missing is skinned knees. and trust me, it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if i woke up tomorrow and did a half-gainer down the stairs only to roll to safety and find myself looking down at two skinned knees.

i’ve been working with my dad this summer painting and pressure-washing houses. it is tough work but terribly satisfying. there’s something so fulfilling about doing hard and physical work. i can’t explain it. the work isn’t really mind-challenging or anything, but it’s just so great to step back from the fence i’m staining and think, ‘hey, i’m gonna finish this by lunch time! early day with pay.’ it’s a great feeling.

the only drawback is the bugs. i have been bitten by 1/4 of all the mosquitoes in etowah county. and it’s only june. and if i’m not getting zapped by skeeters i’m standing, like a moron, in an ant bed. unknowingly of course until they all crawl up legs and give the signal to bite at the same time. which is what they do, y’know.

“alright ant soldiers! fall in! prepare to infiltrate the leg! serpentine formation! go! go! go! go! wait for my signal to fire! aaaaaaand bite! bite! bite! bite!”

oh my gosh. fire ants are brutal. i had tried taking benedryl and it did nothing for the itch. i tried two different types of goop and it did nothing for the itch. by day three it was not only itching 24 hours a day, it was throbbing and bruised…i guess because i had scratched at it a few times. so i was nearly out of my mind when linda suggested something about neosporin which i thought, “eh, i dunno, maybe it’ll do something. i’ll try anything at this point.” but then she saw my neosporin had expired 15 years ago, that’s right 1988. and she threw it away! she threw my stuff away! i said, “hey! what’reya doin’ that for?! that’s mine!” and she said that it was so old it wouldn’t work anymore and i said that yeah but it was mine and i still use it and she said that it was too old and we went round and round for a few but then…

i looked in my medicine box. and there. was something. and i knew that it would work. i knew it would work because it did not claim to relieve itching. it did not claim to relieve the massive irritation/pain of biting bugs. it had nothing to do with skin period. hell, it had expired in ’99.
it was perfect. and i knew it.
i let out a squeal of joy!

“what did you find?” asked linda.

“orajel!” i beamed.

sweet medicine of victory, orajel. it worked and i am a genius. i’m like the mcguyver of medicine! tatdow!

and now, i am pleased to announce
the retirement of The Popple.


we bid the poor bastard adieu

there are some who never met the Popple. consider yourselves lucky. there are those, and you all know whe you are, who have seen the Popple up close, who have seen the popple dance, and who have seen the poor beast be raped repeatedly by Ms. Sparks’s dog, Mr. Emett. he’s a bad dog. bad!

Mrs. Sparks has finally, finally decided to retire the Popple to lovely Boca Raton with the rest of the fogies like the Shirt Tales and Monchichis.

goodnight sweet prince.

 

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