The One About Mornings
May 14, 2002

for crying out loud. they sent jimmy carter to cuba the other day. geez-derp. what a waste. i mean, isn’t jessie “the body” ventura in “politics”? couldn’t we have sent that guy?
anyway.

hi kids,
it’s not a funny one today. but it does explain a little bit why i hate mornings so much.

here’s three mornings from last week:

morning one

last week i had to get the puppy dog fixed. well, not that the puppy dog was broken. i mean, honestly the puppy dog was perfectly healthy, mostly normal and all around happy. so i had her “fixed”. ok see, i dunno what they call it in the rest of the world, but down here (alafreakinbama) the people get their pets fixed. the proper word is neuter i think, unless it’s a female pet and then the word is something else that i cannot think of at this moment and it’s not important anyway as i’ve already mentioned that i got the dog fixed and you understand all that now and would i please stop rambling? the point is i don’t want the doggie to get pregnant. “puppies” is not on my list of things i need at this moment.

so i’m supposed to take the pup to the vet, right? well, the dog lives with jimmy ’cause actually it’s kinda his dog as i gave it to him for a birthday present. so i told jimmy that we were taking the pup to the vet on such and such a day so don’t make any plans so that you can help me control her in the car.
she has a slight problem when riding in cars. not only does she want to drive, but she has the terrible habit of vomiting all over everything and sometimes i think she hides it too. sometimes after i’ve cleaned up a nice fresh batch, i’ll find it hours later in a strange place in the car. how did she manage to hurl in the ash tray when i wasn’t looking?

on the morning in question i got a phone call from jimmy saying that we cannot take her to the vet on this morning because the dog smells like crap. literally. he’s really kinda mad about it and he says that the dog smells so bad he can’t stand to be around her. so jimmy says for me to call the vet and cancel the appointment and we’ll take her next week or something. well, it’s like this. i’m not gonna cancel an appointment because the dog is stinky. i mean, its a dog. that’s what dogs do! not only that, but i’ve taken off a couple of hours of work to go and do this. so i tell jimmy yes honey i’ll call the vet right now and i’ll call you later and don’t work too hard!

then i drove over to jimmy’s house and stole the dog, and yes it smelled like it had slept in a horse pile, but she didn’t look dirty so i promptly took her to the vet sans chunder. they didn’t say anything about not being able to fix the dog due to it’s unearthly, well actually quite earthy, stench. so i left the sweet puppy princess in the capable hands of the vet and went to work. and febreezed the hell outta my car, because man, did that dog stank.

when i got to work my boss told me that the vet had called (y’see, the boss is good friends with the vet) and said to come pick up my dog because it smells so bad.

WHAT?! NO WAY! IT’S A DOG! IT WASN’T DIRTY! IT JUST SMELLED! SHE LOOKED CLEAN! NO NO NO! OF ALL THE STOOPID…

so maybe i freaked out a bit.

then my boss started laughing and said that ha ha of course the vet didn’t call and say that they can’t operate on the dog due to it’s horrible smell but that jimmy had called looking for me and had told my boss about the wicked vapors coming off of the poor pup. ha ha! the jokes on me! every damn day of the week.

morning two

so i call the vet the next morning and the first thing i do is tell them my name and the puppy dog’s name and then i ask if i can pick up my dog now. and the lady/secretary/telephone answerer puts me on hold so’s i can talk to the vet about it. and the vet gets on the phone and starts talking.
“hi ms. pickle, this is Dr. Dale. we’ve got your puppy in stable condition, but i think it’s going to be blind in the left eye for sure and possibly the right.”
“ummmm, what?” she wasn’t blind when i dropped her off…
“yeah, she’s done some damage to her optic nerve.”
“really?! buh..buh…but how?” optic nerve? da hell? did she bang her head on the cage or something?
“yeah, because of the brain swelling.”
“her brain swelled?” crikeys, what kind of medicine do they knock these dogs out with anyway?
“i think the brain swelling is what damaged the optic nerve. so anyway, we’d like to keep her overnight again for observation to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself any worse.”
“oh. ok. um, is this normal?” how am i going to explain to jimmy that the dog is blind now?
“is what normal?”
“i mean, do their brains usually swell with these kinds of procedures?” now we’ve got a retarded dog. great.
“well, in this case, i would have been surprised if the brain hadn’t swelled.”
“i see. well, you know, when i brought her in there to be spayed they didn’t mention anything about brain swelling.” a stoopid, stinky dog. fabulous.
“what?”
“i dunno, i just would’ve thought they would have mentioned the possibility of brain swelling and blindness.” a stoopid, stenchified dog what bumps into things.
“what did you just say?”
“well, i mean, i would have thought that maybe some one would have mentioned that…” jimmy’s gonna freak.
“did you say spayed?”
“yes.”
“do you have a black and white puppy?”
“no sir, it’s a german shepherd.”
“oh.”
“i take it my dog’s brain isn’t swollen?”
“um, let me just check her stitches…. yeah you can pick her up anytime today.”
“and she won’t be blind?”
“no. no blindness. no brain swelling either. sorry for the mix up!”
derp!

morning three (has nothing to do with the dog)

so i work at a sign shop and we make signs. and of course, we make church signs. and of course, we meet a lot of preachers. and of course, here in alafreakinbama, the preachers feel the need to spread the good news to the sign makers because what a heathern bunch of fools those sign makers must be. and hey, that’s ok. i usually tell them that i go to church and then we talk for a bit about church and that usually satistfies the preacher and he leaves.

so this one preacher man comes in and talks to me and he was a really nice guy (surprisingly, most of them are not. boy, do i have some stories about preachers…) but he talks kinda funny. it’s like his eyes are opened a little too wide and he has this constant look of disbelief on his face. it’s like everytime he says something he looks as though he can’t believe that he’s actually talking. his face looks like this, “i’m i talking? are these words coming out of my mouth? is this what my voice sounds like? am i puppet and my master is actually controlling my words and body? body? what body? i’ve never seen her before in my life officer…” er, anyway. he’s just kinda odd y’know?

also, he’s the kind of person that once he finds out your name he says it as much as possible.
“well jaimie, do you think we could put a Bible somewhere on the sign, jaimie? do you think there’s room, jaimie? i know that you’re the expert jaimie, but i’d really like a bible on the sign and maybe a bible verse, how about that, jaimie? jaimie, what do you think that’ll look like?”
so i’ve heard my name way too many times and what the heck’s a jaimie?

but he was really nice and i talked to him a bit and he seemed normal. and on his sign he speicfied that he wanted a Bible on it and it must say KJV 1611 on the Bible. okay by me i don’t care what Bible he uses right?

but then he looks at me with that confused stare and tells me that KJV stands for King James Version and that it is the true Bible and that that’s the only Bible his church uses.
sheesh, that’s like saying pecan pie is the only true pie. so i say, “really? i mean why start there? why king james? why use something so new and fresh? i mean, post-reformation? that’s kinda “out there” isn’t it? and it’s so easy to read and understand. why not just use the latin vulgate bible they used back in the middle ages…back when people believed in god so much they built huge cathedrals for him and they would trek hundreds of miles to catch a glimpse at what might be a saint’s crusty pinky finger or a splinter from the cross. i mean, if you’re gonna limit yourself you might as well do it right.”

OF COURSE i didn’t say that.
i merely nodded at the guy and said, “far out.”

so we discussed his sign a little bit longer and he was pleased with the design and once again he said my name several times and then he left.

and then he came back in and said, “uh jaimie, i’m gonna leave some literature here for you to read at your conveniece, jaimie. have a good week jaimie.” and then he left. for real that time.

so he left a booklet. it was called The Lost Soul’s First Day in Eternity. it’s about a SINNER that DIES and goes to HELL. and while the SINNER is in HELL the SINNER feels so bad and WORMS eat into his HEART and little DEVILS with SHARP claws SCRATCH at the SINNER while the SINNER remembers that he USED to believe in GOD and only GOD can SAVE SINNERS but it’s TOO LATE for the SINNER in HELL with the WORM eating his HEART.
and THEN the SINNER realizes that he has to spend FOREVER with DEMONS scratching him and WORMS eating his HEART. EVERY DAY. he NOW undersands that since he FORSAKED (FORSOOK?) GOD that now GOD cannot hear the SINNER’S cries and PLEAS. the SINNER is alone in HELL. ALONE, TORTURED, GUILTY, FOREVER.

geez, thanks for the light reading.

so i guess this preacher man thinks i’m on my way to hell. feh.

it bothered me a little bit because he didn’t even ask me if i went to church, he just assumed that since i have this gorgeous pink hair that i’m probably a deviant and that he should do “his part” by giving me a scary, puritan bible tract to read. well, thanks for the concern Rev. Mather but no thanks. maybe you should try pawning your “literature” on an open flame or something useful like that. and yikes, if you’re gonna give that filth out, at least do it in the afternoon so that the poor shemp who reads it doesn’t start gagging on her coffee when she gets to the part about the WORM eating into the HEART.

yeah, so no one sent me any links this week.
but i did see a t-shirt that had this on it:

avoid clichés like the plague.
(they’re old hat)

and if that wasn’t funny to you then you probably like reading things about WORMS eating HEARTS.
sicko.

next week’s epitomb: more on how the new apartment is trying to kill me.

jaimie “they’re old hat” pickle

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