The one about the Lady who Sneered at me

Category: weekleez

The one about the Lady who Sneered at me
October 16, 2001

hi kids,  

first order of business: there is a new member to add to the Spy Club (sorry, no cool name for it yet). john “little fish guy” gromko gave me a book of useless facts which seems to be chock full of information about useless, interesting topics.  so if ever i send out a weekly that seems to be about a useless topic (ha), has proper grammar (oh) , and answers a complete thought (huh?), well, now you know where i will have ganked it from.  thanks john!  john’s new spyclub nickname is Captain Van Racecar. use it well.  

er, once again i’d just like to say that um, although i do like getting free stuff, it isn’t necessary to gimmie sumpin’. unless of course, you want a cool spy name. in which case, gimmie sumpin’.  i mean, basically this weekly thing is free.  
moving on.  

ok so this week is kinda rough. i don’t have anything planned and that scares me so instead of something neat and cool i’ll just have to rant about a few things.  

first rant: the one about the moron (some people refer to morons as “customers”. tomato, tomahto) i talked to at work.
*telephone ring*
“kelly signs”
“uh yes this is *insert stupid name here* from *insert name of important factory that sadly keeps this town alive* and i need to know if you have magnetic signs that i can stick on some blah blah blah…”
“yes sir, we even have the magnetic material in stock.”
“yeah, but can you make a sign that’s like a magnet on the back? so it will stick to blah blah…”
“yes sir, the magnetics is like a, um, huge magnet.”
“yeah, but is it a sign?”
*mental sigh* “yes sir, it is a magnetic sign.”
“well do you have them?”
“ye-es.”
“ok, well i need 5 magnetic signs that say…blah blah”
“do you know what size you need?”
“ok, who am i talking to?”
huh? “er, i’m jaimie.”
“ok, janie, i need the signs to be 12 inches by 12 inches square.”
“alright, and what colors would you like?”
“colors? um, well first off, i need the signs to be 12 inches by 12 inches square.”
didn’t he just tell me that? “ok, and what color do you need the copy?”
“uh, just black letters and make ’em as big and bold as you can ok?”
and now’s the part where i repeat the order to make sure i have all the information.
“sure.  so you need 5 magnetic signs 1ftx1ft with black copy?”
“what? NO! that’s the wrong size!!!”
“oh, well, i thought you wanted…”
“NO! that size is wrong. i need the signs to be 12 inches by 12 inches square!”
oh. my. god. 
“um, i see. 12″x12″. er, my…mistake?”  

someone isn’t wearing their Thinking Cap are they?  

huh?!  i can only assume that his remedial engineering class used brightly colored yardsticks (inches only), and on the walls were motivational posters saying things like,
“Remember! Inches only!” and
“96 inches might be 8ft. but 96 sounds better!” or maybe
“always use inches instead of feet, cause everyone knows that feet stink!” 
wow. i made that up.  how sad.  

so yeah, the guy freaked out when i used feet instead of inches.  that’s really strange.  i should have asked him, “do you need those signs 12” long? or 12″ tall?” he probably would have had a seizure.  well, enough about morons.  

now let’s make fun of old people.  

second rant: the one about the old lady who sneered at me and my fabulous pink hair.  

ok, so i’ve dyed my hair pink, right? no big deal.  it’s just not as brown as it used to be. now it’s got some brown and some pink. why pink, you ask?  i dunno, i just wanted some pink, no wait, i needed some pink.  look, i don’t get it either. anyway it’s pink and i’m loving it.   

now i’m not really the kind of person that likes to draw attention to herself.  i’m pretty quiet. i generally only speak when spoken to, and i am always polite…especially to older people.  it’s just how i was “conquistadored” by my parents.  has nothing to do with pink hair.   

ok, this is a small southern town i live in, these people don’t “cotton” to “radical” behavior or “punk” hair. and really, i’m not punk.  i don’t even have my ears pierced. i don’t even have the punk music.  i just wanted pink hair. and now i have short, spikey, pink hair.  and i’m lovin’ it.  but i had to really psyche myself up for any insults that might be thrown my way.  and trust me, i am completely cool with everything.  once mom and dad got all their good digs in i was ready for the world.  trust me, nobody can say anything to me now about my pink hair that ma and pa pickle haven’t already said (except for that snot-nosed kid at the grocery store, but that’s a different story).  

ok, so about a week into my pink hair i have to stop and gas up the jeep.  and i stop at one of the regular gas stations or “fillin’ stations” as some are prone to call them, and i get my gas and go inside to pay for it and there’s a line.  of course.  

so i’m about 5th in line and this old lady is 3rd in line she looks at me and i smile back ’cause y’know, polite, and you know what she does? she sneers and shakes her head and then does this weird mouth thing…  like she’s swallowed the last sip of a warm beer.  i mean, is the pink hair that bad? it produces a reaction in the tastebuds?  

ok, that’s fine. i mean, my feelings aren’t hurt or anything. in fact i wanted to laugh my…socks off. because this old lady is wearing a white, longsleeve shirt and a vest with different sized American flags plastered all over it.  and ok, that’s admirable, i have no problem with the flag, it’s cool. she’s got stark, white tennis shoes on and navy blue, um, culottes.  culottes!!! i mean, these are honest to god culottes, not capri pants.  er, they were tight at the knee so’s the material, y’know, like, bunched out… like horse riding pants you see in the movies?  are you with me here?  and the best part (i know) is that she’s got these red, white, and blue striped tights from the knees down.  gheederp?  

i love this country.  i mean, where else can you dress up like a clown and still have the nerve to show such disgust at something as hideous and bitter-tasting as my pink hair? ah, proudly we hail…
(that was for you tami)  

i was trying to come up with a way to make fun of canada somehow in that last paragraph and it felt too “pushed”. so i didn’t use it. you win this round, canada! next time you won’t be so lucky.  

well, that’s it for this week.   

one other thing. i will be out of town all next week and so you weren’t going to get a weekly.  and then i thought, well, i could just write an extra one now and have mom or dad send it out on tuesday, but trust me, it would never happen. not only can i not write more than one of these a week, but mom’s the kind of person that you could hand her the calculator and ask her to change the TV channel and she’d try. and then she’d study the calculator and point it back at the TV and try again.  and then she’d press the buttons harder because we all know if you press the button harder it will force the electricity to “make it work”.   

ok, actually, mom’s pretty internet savvy.  she’s got her own e-mail and everything.   

dad on the other hand, would not fall for the calculator-TV trick. he’s a dude. he can work the TV and the VCR.  however, he’s not quite as “good” at the internet.  i can imagine me getting a phone call,
“um, jaimie i tried to send out the weekly.”
“hey great! how’d it go?”
“um, well, i clicked the thing with the envelope and then this screen popped up and it was a screen that has never popped up before and it told me to click on something and then so i clicked it but it didn’t do anything.”
“um, so did you send the weekly?”
“well, i couldn’t find it but then this other screen popped up and asked if i wanted to delete the folder? is it a folder?”
“what? is what a folder?”
“so then the screen went blank and i didn’t touch anything i swear.  it just went blank.”
“it went bl-“
“so i pressed the “reset” button but that didn’t do anything.”
“the reset-“
“so i pressed it harder, but you know, it just didn’t work and so i’m not sure if the weekly was sent out or not. hey you want some pancakes on sunday?”
“pancakes? um, yes. i would love some pancakes on sunday.”  

sorry mom and da.  but that was for all the “cockadoodledoos”.   

ANYWAY. 
don’t panic.  you guys WILL be getting a weekly next week. i have a substitute teacher for you guys.  actually, he’s a REAL teacher so you can be rest assured that you won’t have to do “busy work” for an hour.  so you kids behave for meester finlayson! i mean it.  

and i’m so excited!  ’cause that means that next week i’ll get a weekly too!  i wonder what it’s gonna be about? eeeep! exciting!  

next week’s eptomb: mr. finlayson compares and contrasts the Walter Mitty and Hrothgar. or maybe something else. who knows?  

jaimie “i just like saying Hrothgar” pickle
i like ‘mead hall’ too.  

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