6.23.04
i've started on the portrait of ian. this is the second portrait i've done for someone else. well, 3rd really, since the first one i did was a double portrait. this time i'm using oils. i've never actually used real oil paints before. i've used the water soluble oil paints several times. i liked using them, but i figured it was time i step up and use the real thing.

so with this painting it's really cool 'cos i'm learning about how the oils "behave". and i think i'm falling in love. in fact, i already know what i want to do for my next painting. i'd explain it, but i'm sure it wouldn't make sense. what has me so excited is the brush strokes. !!! see, i'm painting squares. so i don't make the strokes go in the same direction in each square. i mix it up a bit so that some (strokes) are at 90 degrees to the others. and that makes the light only reflect off some of the squares. it is so freaking awesome. it almost looks 3D in a way. not the picture, but the squares. the squares look 3D.

i knew i wouldn't be able to explain it. but if you ever come to visit me i'll show you what i mean. and then you'll get excited too. for real.

how i managed to get a degree in painting without ever using oils is beyond me.

6.22.04
while watching TV a few days ago a preview for Mississippi Burning came on and dad said, "that was a good movie, remeber?" and i said, "actually, i've never seen it."

he was shocked. and i think, a little disappointed.

so he told me that i had to watch it. so we made a plan to watch it together since it was coming on in a few days. i said, "dad, is this movie going to make me hate the south more than i hate it already?"
"probably," he said.

it was a good movie.

*****

ok, who took my cool parents and replaced them with the old married people in the living room?

something stupid was advirtised on the television and i said, "what are those things?"

dad: they're like vending machines.

me: yeah, but why would someone buy a vending machine? and also, that did not look like a vending machine. it had a screen and a phone.

dad: yeah it's like a specialized type of...vending. and you trick people into letting you place it in their business...like for example...if someone had a scrapbook store or something.

mom: hey! there is a scrapbook store! right down the road!

dad: i imagine that those vending machines would do at least as well as a scrapbook store.

mom: no really! i drove past a scrapbook store!

dad: they probably took in what, $20 tops today?

mom: have you seen it? it has a great big sign out front. sherry's scrapbook something?

dad: i bet they haven't even paid the sign off yet.

6.21.04
there's a little shop that has opened up not far from my parent's house. i can't think of the name of the place but it's basically a scrapbook shop. they sell scrapbooks and scrapbook paraphanelia. this bothers my father to no end. everytime we pass that shop he's gotta make some kind of comment.
"a scrapbook store? are you serious?"
"i can't believe someone would think it would be a good idea to open a scrapbook store."
"you know, that's just too specialized."
"so what do you think? you suppose they made $15 today?"

and so on and so on.

*****

it was very hot today. and dad and i worked outside all day. in the heat. the hot heat. now, if you work outside, in the hot heat hotness, you probably know that sometime between 2pm and 4pm (whenever you stop for a moment to catch your breath and drink some more water so that the hot heater hot does not kill you, this time) things can get rather silly. we blame the heat and certainly not ourselves for the afternoon bout of silliness. today was no exception.

as we sat on the sidewalk and drank some water my father said in a real southern voice (because the Afternoon Heat Sillies usually invovles talking in funny voices), "jaimie, you know whut we need? we need us some coolie hats"

"what? did you say coolie hats?"

"yeah. you know 'em coolie hats. like on 'em western movies? with the coolies workin' the rail?"

"skknt. yeah i know what you're talking about. i think that's a racial slur, dad."

"i bet we'ud be reeeal cooled off some if'n we hayd us some coolie hats."

"i guess. i think you just like saying coolie hats."

"though, i dunno where's we could get us some coolie hats. maybe we could open our own store! of jus' coolie hats."

"dad..."

"it wouldn't be hard. hell you just throw 'em in a pile and let 'em go. they all one size and color enyhow. 'how much fer one ees coolie hats?' "15 dollar a coolie hat." 'why that's a dang good price fer a coolie hat.' see jaimie? we could sell a bunch 'em coolie hats."

"dad..."

"and we could have our coolie hat shop right behind the scrapbook store."

"bahahahahaha dad..."

"eventually we'd branch out to pith helmets."

then we turned into goodfellas and talked about how eventually we'd bust the place out.

*****

last night the cat came running in my room while i was trying to fall asleep. she comes running in and jumps on the bed and scampers right up to my head and slaps me in the eye with her paw. it happened so fast. she didn't use any claws. it was just a soft paw but she hit me kinda hard, you know? it's a good thing she didn't use claws too, or else this paragraph would've started out with "i killed the cat last night then went to the emergency room to have my left eye socket sewed up. helluva night..."

6.20.04
Precious Water-colored Memories (part the first)
a childhood memory.

one time on a family vacation (read: to visit family in ohio or florida, in this case ohio) back in i dunno, '83 i reckon, we paid a visit to my aunt anna (not to be confused with aunt edna, who lived in boca. that's a "whole 'nother" childhood memory that i will save for a rainy day, just know that it's one of those Foggy Memories of Childhood That You're Not Sure If You Dreamed It, Or It Really Happened. But You're Pretty Sure It Happened.)

aunt anna (my mom's aunt) lived on a farm somewhere near akron and so we all went to visit for a family reunion dinner type thing. it wasn't like a real family reunion with tons of cousins and people you've never met, it was basically my mom's dad and her brothers and then our family, and of course aunt anna. aunt anna made fried chicken, and that's the first time i remember eating a piece of fried chicken. i was what? all of 6 years old? that makes my brother at 3. and at that point in our lives (um, to be honest, all of our lives) he would eat anything you put infront of him (unless is was white. he hated white food for some reason. oh, excepting cottage cheese, which he called 'scottage cheese' because those are the adorable words that little kids say that we remember forever and they grow up to forget all about. and i'll quit embarrassing my brother now.) but i would usually not eat anything. i was a picky eater and often would get yelled at for not eating and would go to bed hungry, but i didn't care what happened as long as i didn't have to eat whatever it was i didn't want to eat.

anyway. the chicken was really sticky. and i've always hated having sticky hands. in fact, i still tear up when we have ribs for dinner 'cos yes, they taste really good, but oh my lord i'm going to kill a small tree from using so many napkins. anyway, i remember aunt anna saying that she had used cornflakes for the batter or whatever you call the outside of fried chicken, and i had wished that i could have had cornflakes instead of that chicken.

of course, none of this has anything to do with what the actual story is about.

before dinner that day, we were all outside and my brother and i were walking quickly around the farm. i say "walking quickly" because we were too afraid to run. not that we would get in trouble for running outside, but because aunt anna had about 95 trillion dogs and there were many "landmines" in the yard. i remember picking real-honest-to-god raspberries right off the bushes and eating them. they were huge. as big as my 6 year old fist. and from that day on i loved raspberries. the only bad thing about raspberries is that you can never get any good ones anymore. at least not here in gadsden anyway. i guess those first raspberries spoiled it for me. 'cos any other time i've ever had them i've thought, "these are the smallest, sickest raspberries i've ever seen." so i don't think about raspberries anymore. i never try to make desserts or baked goods with raspberries even though I HONKING LOVE THE FRUIT MORE THAN ALL OTHER FRUIT EXCEPT FOR OF COURSE YELLOW DELICIOUS APPLES WHICH IS THE MOST WONDERFUL FOOD EVER INVENTED BY OUR LORD AND SAVIOR, BUT WHICH I CANNOT EAT BECAUSE THEY MAKE MY STOMACH HURT MORE THAN MEXICAN FOOD, AND WHILE WE'RE ON THE SUBJECT CAN ANYONE TELL ME WHY BANANAS GIVE ME HEARTBURN?

anyway, the whole reason i started to write this was to tell you about THIS. while we were outside, my two uncles and my father would catch flies out of the air (it was a farm. i guess there are tons and TONS of flies on farms.) and then they would pluck out strands of my hair (which was very long at the time) and proceed to tie it to one of the legs on the poor fly they had caught. and the fly would wizz around like a tiny demented balloon.

then they would tape the other side of the hair to whatever car they were leaning up against. until there were a dozen or so of these taped to the car. it was crazy. i remember mom coming out and saying something like, "pat, stop pulling out our daughter's hair." and me telling mom it was alright because it was just so funny to see all these flies buzzing in circles. "mom, isn't it funny?!"
"sigh. yes."

6.18.04
so dad and i were putting up these really annoying louvered shutters in my house. those little ones? like instead of using blinds or a shade as a window covering? they're kinda cute?
did i mention they were free?

ok. so you know with "free" that means that they don't fit my windows. 'cos they were custom made for someone else's windows. and then they wanted new window treatments. so i got the free.

so anyway, there were like, 16 separate shutters (which took forever to find the matching sizes 'cos i guess every window in the house they came from was a different farking size. !!!) and i only needed 8. but the thing is, only 4 fit the bottom half of my windows. and we could only find 3 of those 4. so by the time we're to the last set to be hung we found out that we couldn't find that 4th set. it was quite a quandry. where could they be? we each searched the remaining stack of 8 shutters three times each. to no avail. huh.

so i go to the Fireplace Room (i guess it's a living room. but there's no furniture in it so it doesn't seem like it's a living room so i've been calling it the Fireplace Room) and i see that up on the mantle is a broken shutter. "god bless it up and down! how on earth did THIS happen?!" i yell. because it's not like the shutter is broken in half or anything. it's split. so like, all the louvers are all loose and dangly. like teeth.

dad yells from the other room, "did you find it?"
"yeah." i say as i walk in the room holding up the sad, broken shutter, "look at this. i can't believe this."
dad looks at it and says in a totally normal tone of voice, "aw crap. it's a Chinese Fuck Puzzle."

wow. talk about a ton of laughing. it was totally worth a broken shutter to have that phrase added to my vocabulary.
"dad, where did you come up with that?"
"i dunno, it just popped out."

also, we fixed the shutter. we probably would've fixed it a lot faster if we had had 8 hands, but i guess that's why it's a Chinese Fuck Puzzle.

6.16.04
chalupa is back.
i forget about ulcer pain until it's too late. but i'm afraid to go back to my doctor because
a. i can't afford it and
b. last time he wanted to see me a week after the first visit and i didn't go because i mean hell, i could barely pay for the first visit. who's got that kind of money that they can just go to the doctor when they need to and then go again a week later? feh? listen up foo'. firs' i gotta miss a day of work and pay out the ass AND THEN i'm supposed to go back a week later? missing more work? do i look like Ms. Gotrocks?

so what is the deal with this ulcer anyway?

Dear Chalupa,

Why are you here? Are you an infection? Can you be cured with antibiotics like I heard you could from people who, after finding out I have an ulcer, start telling me all kinds of tricks and medicines that will supposedly help my ulcer? Or are you caused by stress? And if so, am I "stressed out" as the kids say? Because honestly Chalupa, I don't feel like i'm stressing. In fact, I feel pretty good.

So what is it? Is it the soda I drink? Or the food I eat?

Bourbon?

C'mon 'lupa, don't begrudge me the booze. It's only on the weekends.

And Mondays.

And some of those other days too, but honestly, how can you keep on stabbing me with your daquiri sword when you know you should be sleeping or whatever it is ulcers do when they aren't ulcing. C'mon, I'm sure we can work out some kind of deal, some kind of symbiotic relationship. We can reach homeostasis can't we? Let's stop this "I scratch your back, you stab mine" business and let's work as a team! Partners!

I hate you, bitch.

Die,

Jaimie Pickle

6.14.04
today dad and i installed a new toilet and hung the drapes i got from a dead man's house at the Dreamplex. it's starting to look more and more and more like a place where someone would live.

also i dyed my hair black. 'cos it looks more normal that way. why? i don't know. all i know is that brown was not "working". how do i know this? at lunch todat dad looked up and said, "you know, that color...isn't right. it doesn't look like you." and for dad to notice something like hair, well, it must stand out. of course maybe it was just his feminine side peeking out, i mean, we did hang curtains all day.
derp!

6.13.04
i dyed my hair brown today.

if i could go back in time, i would have totally walked up to Past Jaimie and said, "jaimie, that box in your hand that says "dark brown" is totally not dark brown. it's a reddish brown. and you are going to absolutely hate that color."

i wonder if i would have believed Future Jaimie.

my hair is now a goofy brown color. crayola brown. it's as stylish as sadness.
blah.
i will have to go and get a darker one tomorrow. i simply cannot have this hair.
or maybe i should shave it?

how liberating.

6.10.04
i went to a Neighborhood Watch meeting tonight with the enfamous LBC. it was lame. but i guess it wasn't so bad 'cos i'd been drinking since 2pm and the civilian in charge of the group was a formal male. now he's a she. and "she's" in charge of my neighborhood Crime Watch. fun.

fun!

the thing i learned from this meeting is that Old People are afraid of groups of children and marijuana. the police lady kept trying to explain that kids tend to roam in packs (like, since the beginning of time) and that marijuana is the least of our drug problem. she went on to explain that pot users are pretty laid back and that it's the meth, crack, and illegal pills that are the REALLY GIGANTIC DRUG PROBLEMS in our 'hood. because THOSE USERS ARE THE ONES STEALING OUR SHIT. so of course the next question from the octogenarian to our right was, "so what does pot smell like?"

it went on like that for what seemed like two weeks.

*****

yesterday dad and i worked at the Holy House and it was Potluck Wednesday. we were VERY excited because every 2nd wednesday the old folks have a pot luck and dad and i had never gotten to go since we never worked on a 2nd wednesday before.

we brought baked beans.

and we were so excited 'cos we knew it would be filled with old people and old people food (southern old people food at that) and old people conversation and i just knew, knew, KNEW i'd get a weekly out of it. well. my expectations were totally NOT MET. yes, there were old people, but only like 20 of them. c'mon old peeps! 200 of you live there! where are you?! adn yes there was some good old peep food there (deviled eggs! pinto beans! blackeyed peas! grape salad!) grape salad?! what the hell? grape salad. it was like grapes and a white dressing sauce and bits of pecans. blech. grape salad.

but the thing is, dad and i were treated like pariahs. the old peeps totally ignored us! we sat at a table BY OUR SELVES! they gave us DIRTY LOOKS!

oh sure old people! you love us when we paint your rooms and hallways, but when we eat with you you treat us like uitlanders! i suppose we have to sit on the back of the bus too?! that ain't right! shame on you!

ousted!

so dad and i took our desserts outside to eat. and oh my goodness i had this DELICIOUS congealed salad thing. it was like, orange jello with bits of crushed pineapple in it? you know? pretty standard. and then they had put white vanilla icing on it. and THEN they had put crushed walnuts on top of that to create THE BEST DESSERT I'VE HAD IN LIKE, FOUR DAYS.
heh, really it was good. like a dreamcicle.
the best part of the day, hands down.

6.08.04
i think i'd be an alcoholic if i weren't so disgusted by how selfish alcoholics are.
however, at 10am i was jonesin' for some JD.
i know.
weird. i'm blaming it on the enamel paint i was using. it's a proven fact that enamel paint makes you want booze. that's why all painters are alcoholics. derp.

luckily i was working and couldn't drink. so there you go.

but then. i got off work early.
and sad to say, i hit the bottle around 3:15pm. (jack and coke y'all. i'm not gulping straight from the bottle, yo.)

eh, it happens in spurts. i can go weeks without a drink and then *pif* hey a drink sounds pretty good right now.
but it's a tuesday and i know i have to get up really early and paint outside all day long. so that means i won't be getting trashed tonight.
oh well.

?????

i bought the Zelda Classic for Gameboy Advance. i know, i'm the only one. (hey alex, i found it at the mall and it was pretty cheap too.) so i was playing it and kicking some 1st Dungeon Ass and so then i was off to Dungeon #2. and i knew exactly where to go and so i went and then it turns out that that was Dungeon #3. wtf? where's #2? so i called and left my bro a voice mail.

"hey hoostin. i'm playing zelda and i can't find the 2nd castle. do you remember where it is? anyway, call me. i'm playing zelda. with all the cool kids."

so a few minutes later i get a call from hoostin.

"you're playing zelda?"

"yeah. i'm totally playing zelda right now. where's the 2nd castle?"

"dungeon."

"yeah dungeon. do you remember where it's at?"

"where are you now?"

"i'm in the 3rd castle. dungeon."

"the third one? you haven't beaten the second one yet! you shouldn't go out of order like that."

"look i know that dammit! but i can't find the second one! i know it's in the forrest part somewhere."

"yeah, it's a green one. green rocks around it."

"yeah yeah. i know. but i couldn't find it so now i'm in the 3rd one, which i found with complete ease."

"..."

"hey, do you know what the toy surprise is for the 3rd dungeon?" i asked as i had just entered the secret passage way to get what i thought would be the ladder.

"um, let's see...it's the raft."

"holy shit you're right! it is the raft."

"i know."

"then where's the 2nd castle?! you knew about the raft?! that's amazing."

"yes. my brain holds much nintnedo knowledge."

"yeah so 2nd castle?'

"you know the start screen? well you go down, right, down, left. i think."

"no you don't. you can't go down from the start screen. you're thinking of the Contra code."

"ha! up up down down..."

"left right left right..."

"B A SELECT START!" we yell in unison. because it's just that sad, kids.

"ARG! these things are killing me!"

"that's 'cos you shouldn't play the dungeons out of sequence."

"stop being an idiot, justin! i know what i'm doing! i beat level one and got the heart container and then i went and blew a hole in some rock and got the other heart container so that gave me 5 and i went and got the goddamn magic sword before i even THOUGHT about getting in another dungeon, okay? gimme a break."

"yeah you're right. i mean, zelda's not a toy for christ's sake."

"exactly! oh hell. i sound like a moron don't i?"

"sound?"

"yeah i gotta go now. oh wait, the old man wants me to tell you that Dodongo dislikes smoke."

"heh."

geekers!

6.07.04
laura f*cking catoe (like the star makes it ok) get out of my head! (hey, remember that dr. suess thing? with the made up titles? that what that reminds me of. but i can't remember. you know.) (she always knows).

i can't believe you tried to read infinite jest too! and failed! too! because so many characters! ugh! (i read a review of his new book in time this week and i want to read his new one. it sounds like maybe it'll make more sense.) and WWI and II! i know! what is up with that? was italy a good guy or bad guy? i don't know!

although how you can confuse AIC with jane's, i dunno man.

i watched eurotrip tonight. of course the premise/plot was stupid. but i laughed a bunch. tons. it was funny to me, okay? yeah, i know. i'm an easy laugh. look, i admitted it. what do you want from me, liz? YOU KNOW I'LL LAUGH AT ANYTHING. YES. THAT INCLUDES FARTS.

oh dear.
i went to the liquor store today.

bourbon.

i know. i know.

i'll be posting at the forum soon.
if i can find it.

*****

okay, you see those stars up above this sentence? the That Thought Is Complete Now I'm Changing The Subject Stars? well i was reading this story (like a journal) (yes a link would be handy, wouldn't it?) (damn!) and every time this lady changed subjects or whatnot she would do this.

????

but it's not like she was ending thoughts with a question. they were normal sentence thoughts. but still, because i'm a normal* human being, when i see ???? i think a very musical "whaaaat?" in my head.

*relative, i'm sure

so like for instance:
my brother has to get his wisdom teeth cut out on friday. i feel bad for the poor fella 'cos i remember getting mine cut out and sure, the drugs are cool, but it took me 5 days to get back to normal. and to this day i hate yogurt.

????

whaaat?

6.03.03
i've noticed that the emotions that i usually feel are Anger and Wrath. and all the other emotions like Happiness, Levity, and Peanut Butter are emotions that i usually only see once in a while. however, there's one emotion that only comes around once every 12 years or so.

Jealousy.

and it's almost pointless for me to talk about Jealousy because i don't know anything about it. i think that Jealousy is a pretty weird thing. and the way i look at it is like this, if i want something that someone else has, but i'm not able to have that thing, but still, i want it really, really bad, but i really really can't have it...well, obviously i don't need that thing and really, why waste anymore time on that? it's moot and i'm busy so let's move on.

see? what do i know about Jealousy. i've never taken it seriously. ever. even as a kid. and i think it's because my brother and i had to Share Everything. so, you know, three cheers for mom.

but today. today was different. why? how?
what could possibly happen to cause jaimie's Green Eyed Beast of Outer Hell to waken?

*ring*

"hello?"

"hi jaimie, it's me."

"hey mr. fleegan!"

"hey! guess what?"

"what?"

"there's a tennis tournament this weekend and i get to play in it!"

"hey that's great!"

"yeah! are you gonna come see me play?"

"er, yeah. lemme see what the day looks like first."

"but the best part is my workplace is sponsoring me."

"really? that's weird isn't it?"

"yeah sorta. but the cool thing is there's a mixed doubles match. and me and this girl from work are gonna play."

wtf? what girl? i thought all the girls quit. who is this girl?!

"uh..."

"and the cool thing is she's got a twin sister who..."

sweet jesus lord, twins?

"and so i was talking smack with the sister today 'cos she's playing on a team with one of our business rivals."

flirting. damnit.

"uh huh."

"isn't that cool?"

"yeah. that's cool."

"so you think you can come see me play on saturday?"

"oh i'll be there alright."

"cool!"

sigh.

and when i hung up the phone i felt just awful for being such a bitch. because words like skank and triflin' ho went through my head. and really, i don't know this girl, i mean those girls. those twin girls. those athletic, twin girls. with their cute, short tennis skirts and their perfect "serves".

ugh, and for the first time ever i wished that i was a competitive person. but i'm not. i mean sure, mr. fleegan and i play tennis or whatnot but i never let him keep score. if i was competitive i'd join the tennis league myself, but i'm not, 'cos basically i'd play every game and then get bored towards the end and be all, "you know what? let's just say you win and let's go have a brew or something." so while i do love sports (well, not race cars so much) i'm no good at sports because i just don't care. i don't have that "edge". i won't "race ya!". if the Last One has to buy the *random item* then fine, i'll buy it, but for the love, we're not competing for it. i don't care enough to compete for it. i've got shit to do.

so basically that means i lose out. 'cos i can't play 'cos i decided long ago that "eh, i can't play. i've got this painting i'm working on." or whatnot. so jaimie, that means you gotta be a Big Girl. and you gotta understand that mr. fleegan likes tennis so much that he wants to compete in matches. and it just so happens that in his next match his teammate is a cute, athletic girl (twin) and that his competition is some ugly dude and a cute, athletic girl (twin). so what you're gonna do, jaimie, is you're gonna suck it up, and you're gonna go and cheer for mr. fleegan and his partner (the cute, athletic twin girl). you're gonna be a Complete Adult about this and you're gonna cheer them on.
but first, you gotta TCB:

dear god and jesus and holy ghost,

hi. it's jaimie.
but i guess i don't really have to tell you that, do i?
heh. anyway. the last 20 minutes have really shown me what a horrible, selfish, bitch of a human being i really am. i don't like it. in fact, i'm hating the way i feel right now. i actually had the thought, "maybe they have a flaw of some sort...maybe they have hunchbacks." see, i don't want to be the kind of person that wishes a hunchback on someone. so lord, i ask that you please forgive me for my jealousy, and replace it with your grace. please take my bitchness and replace it with humility. please take that horrible tight feeling of guilt and replace it with your awesome peace that can only come from you.

and please, make them heavy mouth-breathers.

i'm kidding!
that was a joke. poor taste. i'm sorry. i totally ruined that prayer didn't i? i'm contrite, honest. i am truly sorry for being so jealous and mean and stupid. thank you for being so good to me.
you are the bomb.

in jesus' name, amen.

there was another paragraph here and it was hilarious! i laughed so hard when i re-read it. however, i decided to delete it, because it was hateful (not to the twins, it was hateful to a whole other group of innocents). the hateful part was the funny part. but if you don't know me and you read it then you'd think i was the devil, and i already feel bad enough being human.

6.02.04
Sincere Conversations With Dad IV

As Father and I painted in Murder House III this morning, he in the kid's room (which looked like the Tasmanian Devil had resided) and I in the Master Bedroom of Odd Stains, we had this Tender Moment as the Kid Rock/Sheryl Crow song titled, um, what's the name of that song? The one about they can't look at each other's picture while sexxing with other people? anyone?

dad: hey is he still bangin' what'serface?

me: niiiice. who?

dad: you know, she married what'sisname? motley crue?

me: oh. uh....

dad: ...

me: pamela anderson?

dad: that's the one!

me: ew. were they together?

dad: i'm pretty sure. oh well, i guess someone's gotta...

me: i'd never do her. i hear she has Hepatitis.

dad: oh. really? but uh. i mean, wouldn't the first reason that you wouldn't do her be because you're a girl?

me: dad.

dad: oh my god. i don't want to find out this way. no. la la la la.

me: you're an ass.

A few minutes later, after that conversation was forgotten and the stupid song was over and the radio was playing something even worse, probably an Usher song, all was well and the painting was coming along quite nicely dad yells from the other room,

"what about sheryl crow?"

"what about sheryl crow?"

"would you do her?"

"dad."

"..."

"why? did she call the house again?"

"arg! no! la la la!"

6.01.04
dad and i went out for dinner this evening. which doesn't seem like it would be weird since we work together all day long. but it was kinda weird, since you know, we work together all day long. i mean come on. but but mr. fleegan had tennis and mom wanted an egg sandwich (after the day dad and i had we couldn't stomach the thought of eating a greasy egg sandwich) so we went out to eat and then ran by the supermarket to pick up a few items.

so i'm driving in the store parking lot and it's the biggest clusterfark ever. i mean it's madness, right? so i'm busy trying to keep us from getting killed and all of a sudden dad yells, (YELLS), "HEY YOU SONUVABITCH! THAT'S MY BABY GIRL YOU'RE LOOKIN' AT! DON'T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE AND JERK YOU OUT OF YOUR CAR!"

"um, dad? are you really yelling at someone, or are you just practicing for a play that i don't know about?"

"that asshole was staring at you."

"gosh. first time for that, huh?"

"yeah, but he was givin' you a look."

it's nice to know that dad's got my back, yo.

SO DON'T NUNYA SUCKAS BE LOOKIN' AT ME WHILE I'M DRIVIN' ALL UP IN THIS PIECE!

April 2004 Dribblings

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