3.31.06
tomorrow is mr. fleegan's birthday. he is an april fool. (buddy is also an april fool. he doesn't go by buddy anymore, but i just can't bring myself to call him jeremiah.) he'll be the three-four. i think. i can't do math right now. in fact, all i'm really able to do so far today is drool and make coffee.
i'm taking my fella out tonight to get him some new shoes (new shoes!) and to a movie or dinner or whatever he wants. he's the Birthday Boy.

i came home on wednesday and they (who are they?) had demolized (is that a word? remember, i'm drooling over here.) the hobo crack house next door.
yesterday morning, at 6 in the morning i might add, they had that big machine (hey kids, remember when we went to the monster truck show? and that big dragon that killed the old pontiac? it was one of those machines! sans dragon outfit.) and it was picking up the debris and putting it into dumptrucks.
i woke up all, "are we having an earthquake?" and the cat was all, "since you're up you might as well feed me. 'cos if you don't i'm just going to pester the hell out of you until you do. get up and feed me. feed me! feed me! feed me!"

so i watched the dumptrucks get filled while i drank my coffee. it's so strange now, 'cos when i look out my window i can see the houses on chestnut street. and one of them seems to have a giant tv on the porch. i think it's actually in a picture window, but it makes it look like it's on the porch. especially at night.

NOTICE:
free cat to good home. she's old, so you just have to feed her once a day. she sheds like crazy, but also, she's free. goes by the name Toonces Whorecat. but if you take her, you can call her whateverthehell you want.

3.28.06
i think my dogs are racists.
they only bark at the black people who walk by my fence. well, they also bark at the neighborhood strays, but that doesn't bother me as much as the fact that they ONLY bark at black people.
the other day? a slew of mexicans walked by, with like, 8 kids, and the dogs didn't bat an eye, and, more importantly, they didn't bark. Hobo John walks around and they don't bark. he's white, and, more importantly, he's a pedophile.
shouldn't they at least bark at the perverts?
they do bark at Crazy Margaret, but i think that's because she barks at them first.

the point is, they are obviously racists, and they don't seem like they're even trying to hide it. i think it's rude as hell, and more importantly, i'm wondering where they picked it up from because i certainly didn't teach them that shit.

tonight's bowling scores: 116, 98.

i went to the library today and this book caught my eye, like they usually do, and i thought, hmm, this sounds interesting. it's a book of violent poetry and on the back it says that the author is from alabama. so i figure, crazy poems written by some southern dude ought to be pretty good, plus it's really short and that helps pad my book numbers. everyone wins.
so jimmy came over after work and i said, "check out this book called Murder Ballads, doesn't that sound crazy? it was written by some guy from alabama...his name is...oh hell, it's jake york."
"what?! no way! he writes poetry?!"
"apparently he writes murder poetry."
"i remember when he used to wear his jr. NASA spacesuit to middle school."
"hmm, i guess Space Camp is harder than poetry."

laura, what was his brother's name? remember what a pain in the ass he was? he was kinda funny. but mostly jerky.

3.25.06
i took a whole week off from the blog. it felt great not to turn on the computer.

this would be the part where i tell you all the cool/funny/stupid/weird things that happened to me this week.
well, i don't remember much. let's see, there was bowling, which i still suck at, in case you were wondering. then there was liz'z birfday. then there was liz at fredo's. then there was the grocery store.
that's how my week went. nothing too interesting. oh, but dad and i worked in anniston yesterday and we TOTALLY had lunch at Mata's and we TOTALLY had steak grinders, and you guys, we TOTALLY need to take a trek over there en masse and have grinders and beer. we are far overdue for a Mata's run.

fiddy.

cell phone fun: more txts

Damn right you will buckfutter.
- fellykish

blegger goo?
- kristie

Wassup hobag? Just check'n in to see how the kitties are.
- fellykish

I will find it when i get home tomorrow and then i will kill them.
- fellykish

Crazy margaret is here. Bike and all.
- chris

3.19.06
i had dinner this evening with mr. fleegan and his sister's family including one of their cousins who happens to be in high school. turns out that she's in liz'z dad'z english class.
small damn town, huh?
anyway, mr. fin, she says your class is "soooooo hard." also, she hated the Iliad, but really, who hasn't hated the Iliad? i love greek myth and all, but damn, Homer isn't exactly compelling, or brief.
so then she asks if i can tutor her in english.
sure, i say. anytime, i say.

it was only after i got home did i realize that i told someone i'd tutor them in english. me?!
oh well, how hard could high school english be? i passed it once before. it'll be like reruns.
i done tol' her i could learn her to speak and write language good.

i'm listening to the Allman Bros. right now. is there anything more perfect than "In Memory of Elizabeth Reed"? hush liz, i wasn't asking you. or laura either. in fact, nevermind that last question.

okay, well, "Little Martha" is probably my fave. but Liz Reed is right up there.

3.18.06
books that i've started but will probably not finish:
blog!: How the Newest Media Revolution is Changing Politics, Business, and Culture the intro alone made me want to puke. it was comparing blogging to cave paintings. this is the reason i haven't been updating as much. because really, blogs? they aren't that important. and? they shouldn't be that important. get over it.
The Truth (With Jokes) by Al Franken. i love this book, but since i agree with him on most everything it's mainly just making my blood pressure rise reading about how evil the Bush Admin is.

in other non-important blog news:
i was allergic to the Lodine (oh lord, stuck in Lodine again!) and so i called the doc's office and told them this. three hours later a nurse calls me back and she tells me, i swear on a stack of blogs, she tells me to take ibuprofen because it's "really the best thing to take."
well.
IF IT'S THE BEST THING TO TAKE WHY WAS I PRESCRIBED SOME BULLSHIT, EVIL, STOMACH BLEEDING, PRESCRIPTION ONLY DRUG LIKE LODINE?!
oh lord, stuck in Lodine again.
what a waste of money.
this pretty much happens everytime i go to a doctor. this is why i don't go to doctors. this is why i wait and suffer through 6 months of gall stone pain before going to a doctor. so the next time i'm complaining about something asinine like, say, a severed head, and you say, "jaimie, you really should go to the doctor." i'm just going to silently give you the finger, because you should know better by now.

3.16.06
2 posts in one day? wow, i must be medicated and bored.
i was talking to mom and dad tonight about our Kommander in Chief and i said that i didn't want to sound paranoid, but that the thought crossed my mind that maybe W isn't as fucking retarded as i thought.
no wait, he's still a moron. anyway.
so my thought is, maybe the whole United Arab Emirates (is that how you spell that? like pirates with an 'em'?) thing is a sham. maybe the douchebag has no intention of selling the ports to the UEA. but instead there's some kind of "american" company that all of his buttfucking cronies own, right? but he can't just give them the job because all the smart people will notice and be all, "shenanigans! shenanigans!" to which all the dumb people will say, "how dare you not support our president! america haters!" and the smart people will say, "what the fuck are you talking about? are you THAT fucking stupid?"
anyway.
where was i? so then, just when everyone thinks the dumbass has lost his mind he says, "well, okay heh heh, this 'merkin company will do it. heh heh." and still the smart people will say, "hey, i smell shenanigans." and all the dumb people will say, "yay! yay for the american corporation! yay for our president! yay yay yay! yay for us being so fucking stupid that we willingly turn a blind eye to extra stupid things!" or something similar to that.

am i making sense? do you see what i mean? i know it's really paranoid, but you gotta admit, it's completely possible and NOT beyond the evil of the Republikan Regime.
can't you just see Haliburton swooping in to save the day? and all the republican faggots will be all, "oh thank god!" and all the democrat faggots not saying a single fucking word because they are all spineless dribble dicks. and then all the smart people being all, "IS NO ONE PAYING ATTENTION?!"

just some food for thought.

3.16.06
well, the doc said i'll live. my knee is "inflammed" he says. my ass. i'd know if my knee was on fire or not.
quack.
so i'm taking Lodine (and you bet yer ass everytime i pick up the bottle i sing, "oh lord, stuck in Lodine again." because i'm just wired that way.), an anti-inflammatory. it makes me kinda itchy (no hives or anything) and it makes me VERY sleepy. i can tell already this "twice a day" thing will be "once before bed". there's no way i can do ANYTHING after taking one of these.
zombie.
crap.
i just noticed that one of the side effects is chills. i totally had chills an hour after i took the pill. or maybe it was just cold at my house. i dunno, i'll see if it happens again.
stoopid drugs. i don't like taking medicine. it always sounds so dangerous. it IS dangerous. damn you, pills, with your possible side effects of bloody stools and blindness!

3.15.06
last night was, as the liz has put it, Bowling With the Lutherans. since my knee is wonky i sort of hobbled to the edge and rolled it. my scores were 116 and 102.
don't it just figure? anyway, who knew that slow rolling knock down as many pins? but i do wish i could get the cross-alley bowling down. i hate having pins left on the edges. i screw it up especially if they are on the right edge 'cos i have a "natural" curve to the left. meaning: i have no idea why the ball always hooks a bit to the left.
i'm sure other people know why it does that, but so far no one has been able to explain it to me in Art English.

you know what would be good right now? donuts.

3.13.06
well, i'm officially old. or, more likely, just a fat ass.
i've farked my knee somehow. i think (ashamedly) it started with bowling. it's gotten more sore over the past three months. and on thursday? as i was climbing up a ladder? like i do most every weekday? something happened.
it felt like my knee cracked in two.
so now i'm hobbled.
and humbled?
shut up.

i made a doctor's appointment this morning. they can see me thursday. sheesh, by then i'll be able to walk on it again, so what's the point?
shut up. i'll go. really.

anyway, fiddy.

we saw Failure to Launch the other day. it was better than i thought it would be.

stupid fat ass weak knee douchebag. piss.

Sugarless Lent is going okay. i was at the grocery store last night and these snickers bars were all, "hey baby, you look like you could use a friend right about now. you here alone?"
and i said, "i'm not allowed to talk to strange candy."
but they were persistent, "c'mon baby, buy one. no one will know. your friends aren't here. you're going home and it's not like the dogs are gonna know you cheated."
"what the- how do you know that i have dogs?"
"oh uh, hey c'mon baby, it was a lucky guess that's all."
"i don't think so. are you stalking me?"
"baby please, talk about ego. like we've got time for driving all the way downtown to spy-"
"hey! how did you know- if i see you around my house i'll, i'll, i'll sic the dogs on you!"
"oh baby, you know chocolate isn't good for dogs."
"fine! i'll take care of the problem RIGHT NOW!" and then i threw the candy bars on the floor and stomped them.
meh. in short: i'm craving chocolate like a rabid wolf craves...whateverthehell it is rabid wolves crave.

3.09.06
so i work at the Holy House yesterday, right?
and i'm painting a hallway, m'kay?
and in one of the rooms, this guy, he's got some kind of casio keyboard, with me?

so at first he's kinda pecking around on the keys, and he sucks, but that's okay, i mean, i can't play or anything. but after a few minutes of this...this sucking of the playing...he hits the demo button or whatever, and this midi version of "Down By the Riverside" starts playing.
i'm all, "hey! this guy is a phony! a big fat phony!" hee. there's a Family Guy quote for everything.

but this song...oy, it's really annoying. and it's only about 45 seconds long. so i've got that going for me, right?
wrong! haven't you learned anything yet?

that craptastic song loops for the next 3 hours.
i'm not even exaggerating. i finally get dad up there to hear it.
"how long has this been playing?"
"wait, here's the big finish...i've got it choreographed watch." i dance some steps, "tada!"
"that thing must be turned up to 11."
"ya think he's dead? or just really enjoying that song?"
"three hours?"
"that's been playing since i got here...3 hours ago."
well, let's go check and see if he's dead."

he was not dead. he was sleeping. i don't know how, because when we opened that door the music...was so loud...that it physically came out of the door and pushed us down. it was a force.
apparently the guy likes that song so he cranked it to 'max' and laid down to sleep.

i love old people.

3.08.06
OMGWTFDIE! barry bonds used steroids? are you sure?

To: everyone with working eyes
RE: Barry Bonds used steroids...really?

uh duh! have you seen what he looks like? he didn't look like that 6 years ago. in 2000 he was 35 and hit 49 homeruns. in 2001 he was 36 and hit 73 homeruns. that's a 24 HR difference. now, that's not impossible to do without performance enhancing drugs, right? however, in his whole professional career (which started in '86) he never had a HR difference over 15. in fact, the last time there was such a gap was in '89 - '90 (and then it was just 14.)
now, he didn't have a giant increase in the number of total hits in any year, which kinda shows (i would think) that he had more power in that year which led to more balls being hit over the wall.
i mean, c'mon, it doesn't take a brainiac to kinda see the point. plus: look at him.

love,
jaimie

Dear Barry Bonds,

Are you serious? You're telling me that you didn't know you were taking steroids? You actually want people to belive that?
DON'T PISS ON ME AND TELL ME IT'S RAINING, MISTER.

Love,
Jaimie

stats were stolen from wikipedia.

3.07.06
new weekly.

if you haven't seen Domino yet (look, no one hates keira knightley as much as me...i've never liked any of her characters), you should try to watch it soon. do it.
do it today. buy a mountian.
i hope you laugh as much as i did. oh, and if you understand the ending gimmie a call and 'splain it to me.

3.05.06
fellykish needs to update her site.
fiddy

yesterday was Saturday, and it turned into the busiest day of the week. first, i woke up at 4:30am to take Miss June to dialysis*. then i came home and went to bed. later that morning Popsicle called and he came over and picked me up and we went to the biggest estate sale in the world. there were at least, AT LEAST 250 people crammed into that house. it was madness. people everywhere, shoulders bumping, asses sliding over asses...it was horrible. we didn't buy anything, but only 'cos when we were through and was able to make our way to the front of the house to pay for our stuff...there was a huge line and it wasn't moving. and i'm sorry, i don't wait in huge lines to buy a $2.00 ashtray. keep it.

then we went to the Holy House and did some odds and ends.
then we went to Lowe's. if you're not mentally ill before you go there you're mentally ill when you leave. it's all, "you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave." at Lowe's. everytime we use the HCH's card there we have to tell them that it's tax exempt. and everytime they charge us sales tax. every. fucking. time. EVEN THOUGH we JUST TOLD THE STUPID FUCKING WHORE that there's NO TAX. so then we have to take our reciept to the customer service. then they have to act like we just returned EVERY FUCKING THING WE BOUGHT, and then they have to ring us up again, only THIS TIME not charge us the tax. and this happens...EVERY. FUCKING. TIME. i would continue to rant and rave about this but the thing is, i know you've been to Lowe's, so you know what i'm talking about. there's no reason to beat a dead horse. and Lowe's? is a dead horse.
i bought $40 worth of pond equipment. a new pump and a small piece of shitty plastic that makes a fountain.

then dad and i went back to the HCH to try to fix something else (keys), which is why we went to bLowe's in the first place. (ha. bLowe's. i kill me.)

then we went to mom and dad's house to find some more pond stuff (tubing, sump pump) and then we went to lunch.
after lunch we went and picked up their dog, Dude, who was at the vet's getting shots, a bath, a hair cut, and whatever else.

then we went back to my house and pumped out my GD fish pond. scrubbed it (ew! i was grosscovered in actual pond scum.) put in new water and my new fountain thingie. so now the water moves and isn't just a stagnant mess.
the fun part was catching all the goldfish.
ah, the GD goldfish. i may have fed them 4 times in the last 5 months. and those damn things are still alive. and, and, AND? they're huge. unkillable.

for supper mr. fleegan and i ate at mom and dad's. we had chili dogz. then we played cards. because we're old people.
what a day.

* i don't think i've mentioned Miss Junebug before. she's a side job i've picked up. fellykish and i tagteam taking her to dialysis 3 days a week. she's the sweetest old lady in the world. she is always smiling. always.
even after dialysis she's all smiles. also, she's very tiny. you just want to put her in your pocket and take her out when you need a smile.

3.01.06
i had a dream last night about killer bees. there was a hive in my yard. as a house painter i hate all winged, stinging insects and their hives/nests.

and, i have killer bee-ophobia.

dear God,

please. please! do NOT let the killer bees get here. make gadsden safe from the killer bees. oh it's creeping me out just thinking about it.
i know that it's our own fault that killer bees exist. i know that when man tries to play god man gets punished by things like killer bees, the plague, rats with human ears growing on their backs, polluted air and water, iPods, the AIDS, high gas prices, an idiot of a president, computer viruses, banks that close on wednesdays, blockbuster video, the olympics, all of televison, the internet, the gay-loving liberal media, banjo music/bagpipes, the holocaust, the art of thomas kincade, acid rain, france, italy, the whole "is pluto a planet or one of neptune's moons" thing, scientology, that "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk" song, and nuclear/atomic weapons. i mean, someone lied to Oprah and NEARLY GOT AWAY WITH IT. these things are all our faults. we are the ones to blame for the horrible evil sins of the world. these are the things that happen when we try to play god.
i kind of lost track of what i was talking about.
after re-reading the list i just made, i realize that we often punish ourselves. wow. anyway, thank you for Jesus. thank you for forgiveness, thank you for loving me, and please...no killer bees.
amen.

my bowling scores last night were: 90, 75, 113.
why am i still sucking the bowling ass? i've bowled once a week for 6 months. should not there be improvement?! I TAUGHT MYSELF HOW TO JUGGLE! I CAN JUGGLE BALLS, CLUBS, AND RINGS! WHY CAN'T I ROLL A BALL DOWN A LANE? WHY CAN'T I KNOCK THE PINS DOWN?! WHY AREN'T MY SCORES IMPROVING?! why am i actually caring about this?

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