10.29.03
phone conversation with my brother:

hoostin: hey.
jaimie: hi.
h: so. how are you?
j: um. good. how are...um, you?
h: fine.
j: good. you uh, feeling ok?
h: yeah. yeah.
j: good.
h: yep. good.
j: so you guys play on friday right?
h: yeah. we've learned some cool halloween songs.
j: oh. good.
h: yeah. good.
j: great.
h: yeah. pretty great.
j: uh huh.
h: yep.
j: huh.
h: so anyway i haven't gotten you a birthday present yet.
j: oh. well, that's fine.
h: no no. i want to get you something. what do you want?
j: uhhh, i dunno. how about a book? you have a book store up there?
h: yeah. a booksamillion or something.
j: oh. cool.
h: so what kind of book?
j: um, how about an art book? like something from pop art. er, andy warhol would be a safe bet, eh?
h: uh, yeah. ok so an art book?
j: yeah, but don't buy one of those gigantic expensive ones though, those are a rip off, just get something regular book size, or smaller.
h: oh.
j: *laughing* but make sure it's got some pictures.
h: right. *laughs* an art book without pictures...
j: you'd be surprised. *laughing*
h: *fake voice* okay so imagine this painting where there's a building but the glass in the building has a crack in it, see? so anyway the crack represents the turmoil of the city...get it?
j: hahahaha oh man! oh gosh that's too funny. actually you're really good at that.
h: haha it's part of my Imaginary Books Series.
j: bahahahahahahahaha!
h: think i could get them published?
j: hahahaha oh yeah no problem, i mean you described that painting so well, you'll have no problem convincing the publisher.
h: hahahahaha!
j: *fake voice* right. so my books are all about me describing things that aren't in the book...as if they were in the book, get it?
h: hahahahahaa so anyway, if i don't get the book, can i just buy you some booze?
j: bahahaha! like you had to ask?
h: yeah, well booze is kind of a generic gift.
j: really? i like it, 'cos when i'm done with it i can throw it away 'cos there's no sentimental value to it. oh. i see what you mean.
h: hahaha so you won't be mad if i get booze?
j: no way! well, i guess i'll see you friday?
h: yeah. *fake voice* it was great talking to you.

it was here that i started the um, laughing that i'm so famous for. you guys know the one. and the rest of the conversation was him saying different ways to say bye as i laughed like a hyena.

10.28.03
you know, since quitting the sign shop back in April i have started to believe (once again) that Good always conquers Evil. but i gotta tell ya, some days it's hard to believe that. like for instance, when we tell some moron (ten times) to buy acrylic latex paint and he comes back with the cheapest latex paint he could buy meaning he saved $7 but that dad and i have to work twice as long 'cos now we have to put on two coats of paint meaning that instead of us charging him $75 to paint his windows now we charge him $150 to paint his windows all because he wanted to "save" money by buying cheap paint. way to go asshole.

i mean, if you're just going to go ahead and buy the cheapest paint anyway, why bother asking the painter what kind of paint would work best?

it's days like these that i lose my faith in humanity as i pray for the Space Droids to come down and destroy us all, begging that our punishment will be swift and painless. and i will be one of the many humans that sellout and choose to work for the robots to fight against humanity, to fight against the stupid people of the world. it will be a terrible battle that the robots and traitor humans will win because the stupid humans will try to save money by buying cheap missle parts and their bombs won't work or maybe it takes twice as many bombs and so they run out of ammunition faster and We, the Robots and Traitor Humans win! sweet victory!

but wait! the world will go on, and then after we all become slightly comfortable with our new symbiotic relationship (the robots feed off the stupid people and we use the robots to download porn and music) my children will grow to hate me just like the other children of the other Traitor Humans will grow to hate their parents. and they will feel compassion for the stupid people. and they will want to help the stupid people. and maybe some will even fall in love with the stupid people. and so our children, the ones we fought the war for, the ones we wanted to protect from the stupid people, will rise and revolt against us. hating us! despising us for the first war yet willing to stoop to our level of violence for the second war: Traitor Humans and Robots Vs The Children of the Traitor Humans and The Stupid People.

it'll be ten to the 4th power times worse than the U.S. Civil War which pitted brother against brother. for this time it will be father against son and mother against daughter and robot against the sons and daughters of the fathers and mothers.

it'll be a bloodbath. and of course the Robots win. we crush our own and the stupid people. and when we see what we've done, when we step back and see the carnage of our own flesh and blood...and even that of the stupid people, when we realize that we've killed the only good thing we've brought into this terrible, horrible world, it will crush our very souls. and we'll kill ourselves in a mass suicide the likes of which Jonestown could only dream of, and then the robots will soon shut down for there is no more power 'cos all the stupid people are dead as are all the other people and so the robots rust and fall apart in the acid rain.

and as i lay there dying, my throat burning from the poison, my stomach churning from the wormwood cocktail, i'll let out a mighty cry, for my last thought is that the stupid people somehow won.

ow my head, what the...
i must've blacked out or something.
oh look! i wrote a new dribble!

10.22.03
so sometime this morning around o-darkhundred, before any human has any right to be awake and moving around, the cat, who apparently once again hid in the house until i went to sleep, jumped on my head. no wonder i'm a Nervous Nancy. anyway i got pissed and threw the cat off the bed and turned over.
she jumped again.
i tossed her again.
she jumped again.
i grabbed her and got out of bed and went to the front door and tossed her out. grumbling explatives. and then i saw it.

Scabies was in the front yard.
bloody hell.

she looked happy to see me. she was all, "oh thank god thomeone came out here. i thought i wath going to have to wait for 3 more hourth, you know, like when the thun would come up. mith jaimie, i wuv you."
"Scabies, what are you doing out of the fence? Scabies, come here!" geez. so i walk out (barefooted) and pick up the scabie-ridden beast and i go back to the front door. but i can't open the door 'cos my hands are full of dog.

so i set her down. she doesn't run off 'cos she loves me. she sits there and wags her tail. that is, until Toonces (the cat) attacks her, for no reason other than Toonces is a bitch and does not fear the small dog. so Scabies takes off. shit.

"ARGH! you stupid c***!" i yell as i kick, yes kick, the cat. i have never kicked the cat before. but it's so early and i've only been sleeping for three hours and there's no light out and the dog had just run off (because of that stupid cat) and so that is my excuse for cat kicking and yelling c***. a word i never say. never.
laura says it.
all the time.
neener.

anyway i run back inside and put on a pair of shoes and run back out and the dog is nowhere. shit. so i run to the jeep and get a flashlight.

after 20 minutes of searching, and it's cold out guys, i'm wearing pajamas, of me in people's yards with a flashlight, of me thinking if i saw a flashlight in my yard i'd proly call the cops or worse, fire a warning shot into the thief's gut. gut wounds are the worse. anyway, i find the dog on the outside of our fence in the backyard by the creek next to the hole she's gotten out of. apparently she can't get back in, but i can tell that she wants to get back in.

and also, this is the one spot that i can't get to her. so i try to get her to move 30 feet to the right or left so's i can go pick her up and put her back in the fence.

oh i guess i should mention she's not wearing a collar, and she shredded the cute red bandana yesterday. so picking her up is the only option. also, Blue Dog is freaking out the whole time 'cos i guess she slept thru Scabies great escape, and so when i came back there and she saw Scabies on the "wrong" side of the fence she started freaking out tazmanian devil style and i had to keep pulling her away from the hole in the fence while trying to coax Scabies back into the hole and oh geez what a mess.

anyway, long story shorter, i eventually get her back in. i am so cold. my pj pants are wet at the bottom. and i don't have the strength, brain, or light needed to fix the fence. so i debate weather or not to bring her into the house, 'cos you know, scabies and all. i decided to leave her outside 'cos i figure if she was going to run away she wouldn't wait by the hole for someone to come rescue her.

and when i woke up this morning the first thing i did was check the backyard, and Little Scabies is still back there.
so now i'm off to fix the fence.

10.21.03
well.
it'sa my birthday today.

i've decided not to drone on and on about "feeling old" and bitching about not being a successful or glamorous anything. because really, i'm not that old. and second really, i wouldn't be too good at the glam-lifestyle. mostly because i like to do my own grocery shopping.

i recently read an article in...oh hell, what was it...not Time. the other one. no, not Newsweek. the other weekly news magazine, but it's the one that no one reads? yeah that's it, U.S. News & World Report. and the article said that the average age of women getting married for the first time is 25.3 years old. great, now i'm .7 years behind.

so far the b'day has been good. i mean, sure i haven't gotten any marriage proposals yet, but the lunch nazi at Miss Jean's in RBC (who, by the way, has really turned out to be a nice, nice lady) gave me a free helping of banana pudding. she's the bomb diggity.

IN OTHER DRIVEL:
the Weekly sucks today. sorry.
i think for next week i'm gonna try to make a mad-lib weekly. don't hold me to that. but i'm really gonna try.

10.20.03
a crazy person has hired me to draw a picture of her house. it's coming along pretty good. i can't remember the last time i used a pencil for...anything. i think it was probably the last time i had to use a scantron. heh. anyway, pencil drawering, it's all coming back to me now.

i'm using watercolor paper for the drawing. it's got some tooth to it, so the texture of the house and trees is like, already there when i draw it! how cool is that?

i'll try to scan it later but i think it might be too big. so i might have to take a digital of it.

also, i had to buy a new scanner the other day. ouch.

and then the scanner cable was muchos shorter than my old scanner's cable and i had to rearrange all the computer stuff which meant cleaning off my desk. to put this in perspective let me just say that buying and installing my new scanner took 8 hours.

also, i really need a paper shredder.

10.17.03
if i said that everything was put here on earth for my amusement, would you call me egotistical?

i don't really believe that, of course, but sometimes, sometimes there are days when it seems like i am always at the right place at the right time and there's a humour to everything. for instance, this happens every time (every.time.) i go to the grocery store.

"oh dear, jaimie sure sounds happy today doesn't she?"

well, i was quite content this morning (i have a day off, who wouldn't enjoy that?) until i read some lady's account of purchasing a new home. and then i was reminded that i don't have a home of my own. and that i never have. and i'm not saying i'm shelterless or that i'm not livin' la vida loca or anything, but for some reason there is a huge, gaping, emtpy spot in me, and it bothers me to no end. being safe and warm is completely great and if i could give that to everyone in the world i would so do that. but being safe and warm and knowing that you don't belong in that particular warm, safe place is altogether different and it sucks giant sucky things.

whoa, when did i get so philosophical and/or weepy?
must be that time of the month.

10.15.03
so i get home from the bar tonight and since i drank just a tiny bit more than usual i was kinda famished when i got home. i don't know why. but i wanted some oatmeal. oatmeal that i didn't have. so i look in the fridge to see if maybe i had put a packet of oatmeal in the fridge by accident. and dad says, "hey, are you hungry?" and i say, "yeah." and he says, "well, we have peanut butter." and i say, "nah." and he says, "what about teddy grahms?" and i say, "teddy grahms? who the hell bought those?" and he says, "i dunno. the box has E.T. on it."

"wh-what did you say?" i ask, blood draining from my face as i close the refrigerator door.
"they appear to be E.T. teddy grahms. see?" he answers and points to the tippity top shelf.
"oh my god. that's...that's impossible." i whisper.
"who bought those cookies?"
sigh. "i did."
"you did? when?"
"april... 2002."
"what?!"
"i think it was april. april or may. that whore."
and i went on to explain the cookies to dad.

so laura. just how long have those damn cookies been in that cupboard anyway? also, no need to worry about them ending up in your pantry. i opened the package and ate some of them. they were pretty good with peanut butter on them.

10.11.03
yesterday's margaret cho quote does not make me a catholic hater.

10.10.03
WELCOME TO THA WEEKEND, SHAGGY DAWG!

so i was catching up on pamie.com's blog and she had a link to margaret cho's blog. so basically i was having a blogtastic time! however, i must say that margaret cho scares me. is she gay? or does she just want to be gay? i realize that she has tons of gay fans and friends so i suppose she caters to that, but still, is she gay? does it matter?
no. no it doesn't matter.

anyway on ms. cho's site she was bitching about the pope (which is a beautiful and natual thing between a mother and her child...no wait, that's breastfeeding. riffing on the pope is just a beautiful and natural thing.) and then she wrote this gem which made me laugh and wish that i had come up with Angry Jesus:

We need Angry Jesus to storm the Vatican right now, kicking out the money changers and the temple prostitutes and the child molesters. I love me some Angry Ass Jesus. Make your own loaves and fishes muthafucka! Get out of my Father's house!!! I want Jesus to evict your ass, throw all the millions of dollars worth of sacred art and gold and relics and Liberace style robes bought with the blood of the countless believers who give you everything and more so that they will be saved, and you do nothing but let them die, condemn them, judge them, molest them, kill them.

well, you've got to admire her passion.

and then i noticed that yesterdays' entry was about ann coulter and the fact that she's a horrible person.
yay!

10.08.03
and after months of wednesday night bar time fun we finally got around to talking to the waitress in more than just, "hey, we need another round."

last week i noticed that my name was written on the tab. and than made me nervous, 'cos i never told the waitress my name. so i mean, how did you know my name lady?

but then really, it's not much of a mystery. it's a small town and there's always someone there that i know. so really who cares?

there are three waitresses that we are bound to get. one of them is annie. i went to school with her. she's very nice and quick with the ashtray emptying and the beer fetching.

then there's the waitress with the dark hair and she's the one we get about 85% of the time. she's our favorite. she too is good with the beer fetching and ashtray detail.

then. then there's the blonde.
she sucks.

so this week our waitress (the dark haired one) comes up to the table and says to me, "hi! you know, i knew i knew you!"
"you do?"
"yeah! and so i asked annie who you were and she told me you were jaimie pickle! and i was all, 'oh yeah!' 'cos we went to high school together!"
oh crap. i graduated with her? shit. what is her name? shouldn't i know her name?
"oh, um. so we er, were in the same class then?"
"well, you were in annie's class right?"
"yeah."
"i graduated in 1999. my name is suzanne."
oh saved! thank god we weren't in the same class or i would've felt like the biggest ass ever.

anyway, she's very nice and like i said a very good waitress and so dad and i tip her very well. in fact, i pride myself on my incredible tipping skillz. (the reason i tip well is because my brother used to work at a restaurant and would make no money and the people were really cheap and would not leave tips and well, it always pissed me off 'cos he worked so hard and was going to college at the same time and damn you cheap bastards!) and tonight i guess all of our mad tips paid off 'cos we actually got to use beer mats instead of cocktail napkins. i said, "woo dad check it! we rate coasters tonight!" it was very special. flippy was pleased as well.

so anyway for the past couple of wednesdays i've been bringing my sketchbook to the bar so i can doodle while the band plays 'cos it's too loud to talk and i can't stand just sitting there all you know, sitting and drinking. i might as well get in some good sketching time right?

so tonight i think the waitress was matching us drink for drink ('cos she's never so talkative) and she was all, "OMG you should do tattoos!" and she proceeded to tell me that everytime she came by the table.
by the end of the night i swear she was my number one fan and when we paid our tabs (and left our huge, brag-worthy tips) she almost started crying (i swear) and she said, "y'all. y'all are too good to me." and then she gave dad a hug and then she told me that my drawings were great and i should really, really think about art school.
i'm just impressed that after working in a bar for two months (at least) she's not bitter, cynical or a slut.

FA, you should totally date her.

10.06.03
WENT AND GOTS ME SOME CULTURE
tonight i went to the splendous Convention Hall and heard the wonderful Band of the United States Airforce Reserve. they played all kinds of stuff. all. kinds. from sousa to steve miller. i know.

however, the place was jam packed with oldsters. i mean, it smelled like someone dropped an estee lauder/aqua vevla bomb all up in that piece.

the best part of the night was the beginning. i was sitting next to this old man and he was talking to me about nothing and i was talking back to him about nothing. and now that i think about it, i really like talking to old people. anyway the show starts and everyone stands up and the MC asks us all to sing the national anthem.

and for a few seconds i stood there thinking, "which one is the national anthem? america the beautiful? my country 'tis of thee? waltzing matilda? oh! heh. yeah." and the song starts and we all start to sing and the small old man next to me BELLOWS the song. omg, i'm sitting next to enrico pollazzo here ("hey! it's enrico pollazzo!"). and i start to chuckle as we sing. and so there he is all booming and then we get to the part about the ramparts and the guy forgets the words (hey, i'm not making fun of him forgetting the words, it's a long song, hell, i couldn't even remember what the song was at first. of course, that's because i'm an idiot.) so he forgets the words but he was belting the song so then he just kinds of bellows all mumbly 'cos he doesn't know the words and i don't know if i had inhaled too much youth-dew or what, but that was the funniest thing in the world at that moment.
and you missed it.

10.05.03
i went to the episcopal church this morning. i'm glad i did. i woke up this morning with a bible verse playing in my head over and over and i was thinking, "ack! get it out of my head!" and then the gospel lesson that the priest read was that verse. and i was all, "ack! get it out of my head!"
god, you're following me. i'm on to you.

Surprise!
there was a surprise party for cookie magoo! and she was surprised! and also presents! and food! and even pepsi!

10.04.03

GOD SURE HAS BEEN BUSY
true story. so i was in my room, minding my own, when there was a knock at the front door. well, i was the only one home and even though i really wanted to play dead i figured that also it might be the rent check and really, that was wishful thinking on my part. the renters always wait 'til the 15th. instead it was two cute boys.

mmmhmmm, you boys sellin? 'cos i'm buyin' mmmhmm. ahyeah.

"uh, hi guys what can i do for ya?"
"hi! we're here to give you this lightbulb." and then the cute guy with the curly '70s hair handed me a lightbulb.
shit you not.

just go with it, jaimie. "oh. um. well, thank you!"
"you're welcome! has anyone given you a lightbulb before?"
"actually, no. you two would be the first."
"we know how it is these days with the economy being so bad and the war and all."

economy? war? what? has it gotten so bad they are rationing out lightbulbs now?

"uh. yeah. i guess you've...got a...point?"
"um here," says the cute guy with the backwards baseball cap, and he hands me a card with a map to a church on it.
ah, now i see. hmmm maybe some kind of weird survivalist church?

"we'd like to invite you to a party we're having at our church tonight? do you have plans tonight?" asks cute 'n curly.

"actually, yeah. i do have plans (no lie) but thank you for the invite. do you guys want your bulb back?"

"oh no! that's yours to keep!"

"oh, well thank you."

"ok, well before we leave i need to ask you something."

"ok."

"do you go to church?"

"yeah, i go to a lutheran church on sunday mornings and i go to the core on sunday nights."

"the what?"

"the core. it's part of the vineyard church."

then cute guy with hat says, "oh! i've heard of that! one of my friends has been there."

then cute 'n curly says, "that's great that you're involved in church. one more thing before we go, is there anything you need prayer for? because we'd like to pray before we go."

<pause>
omg. p-p-p-prayer? oh man. oh no. see, "getting prayer" is not one of the things i'm good at. but you say, "jaimie, getting prayer is easy. because you have nothing to do with it. you just stand there. what is your problem?" and to you i say, "shut up! don't touch me! get away from me!" i can count on two fingers how many times i've asked friends for prayer this year. pretty sad huh? the urge to scream and bolt is very, very prevalent whilst getting prayer. maybe you guys could pray about that....from a great distance...and not anywhere near me...and not where i can hear you. and also, stop staring at me.

so, i mean, for two strangers, no matter how cute they are, to come up and ask to pray for me...yeah. i can't very well push them off the porch...they gave me a light bulb. damn.
</pause>

"uh, well, i can't think of anything...hey wait. there's this guy named andy and he just had his gall bladder removed and he's supposed to go do some mission work in mexico and i think maybe let's pray for him?"

then cute ball cap boy says, "hey, i know that guy! yeah we should pray for him!"

oh thank you lord.

and so we prayed for andy. right there on my door step. and then the cute guys left. and anyway, lightbulb.

IN VENAL NEWS:
i won at cards last night! $25! booyah! tatdow! who da whoa-man?! yeee-ah!

IN USED BOOK NEWS:
laura and i knocked over a used book store today, no wait, we just bought some books. i got 4 books for $7.

1. pat blahbertson's the turning tide. i'll probably never read it, but it was hardback and only $1.00 and i figure he won't get one cent from that plus it keeps someone who would actually read it and believe it from getting to read it. just doing my part for my country.

2. ayn rand's atlas shrugged. my favorite book. i've read it twice but never actually owned it. so now i have an ancient paperback version of it. i hope to one day own the giant hardback edition. i have a birthday in a few weeks. get it?

3. wine for dummies. for a $1.00! i know!

4. a bible. just to keep everyone on their toes.

10.02.03
an extra long dribble since i missed two days in a row. who loves ya? jamoo does.

GOD FINDS JAIMIE
i was in a really bad mood yesterday. i'm not sure why. maybe it was the sore finger. i was just impatient all day. anyway i'm painting this door and sighing dramamtically and god says, "hey jaimie..."
"*sigh* what, god?"
"listen..."
"oh no. what, what is it?"
"i love you."
" *blink* ...oh."
well don't i just feel like the biggest heel? oh man, feel? i AM the biggest heel. man, i WOULD be the biggest asshole to god on a GOOD day wouldn't i?
"um, listen. i'm sorry for being an ass. um... uh, thank you." insert defeated sigh here.
sheesh, talk about being an inadequate, inept creature. aw, man do i always screw up?
"i didn't tell you that so you'd beat yourself up over it."
"d'oh! you're still here? i mean, heh. of course you're still here. oh! sorry. anyway. um. so thank you for er, taking time out of your...busy..day and all. and um, i want to say something great and ...er, wonderful but see...i um, all i...i don't have...so anyway thank you, sir. god! god. thank you, god. what i mean is thank you. thanks. thank you. er, amen."
sweating bullets. waiting for lightning bolt.

i gotta say, my day got much better after that. i guess when god grabs you by the lapels and says, "hey kid! i love you! okay? got a problem with that? i didn't think so." that um, your day can only go up from there.
also, are my prayers not pathetic? i'm like the incredible rambly woman.
Horrible Christain™ strikes again.

can you imagine me as a televangilist?
Touched by a Pickle: So You Believe in God, eh? video series I-IV.

"dear brothas and sistas in christ! i just want you to know! that gawd loves you! now! let's get the hell outta here before he shows up! there's snacks in the lobby. make checks payable to Jaimie Pickle."

POSTMODERN BARFLY
went to the bar after church yesterday. the church meeting was boring as usual until the very end anyway when he gave us 12 sheets of "important information" for us to "read over" for the next "meeting", and one of the packets was all about postmodern thinking. and since i'm the youngest adult in the group (almost everyone else is old enough to be my parent) i figure i'm probably the only one who even remotely has a postmodern bone in my body. liz might disagree. but the EP did mention the whole thing about how the PMs don't believe in absolute truth and how that is scary for the church today. i so wanted to stand up and say, "absolute truth is bullshit! and anyone who disagrees is a sucker! *erratic pointing* sucker! sucker! sucker!"

i don't know much about absolutes. (Absolut™, well that's different) and maybe i don't believe in them. i fail to see how this could be the Church's undoing. i think the Church was stamping out absolutes way before PMs came along anyway.

enough of that.

ms. sparks came to the bar last night and hung out with me and me da! it was fun to have a peer to hang and talk with. also the band dedicated a song to me. yay! it was Bueno Funk.

i also ran into diana in the bathroom at the bar. i was surprised. i said, "hey, how are YOU? aren't you missing a gall bladder now?"

"si. you want to see the scar and steetches?"
"no! no thank you! no. so you're doing better now?"
"si, but i am on a streect diet. the doctor says my leever will be next eef i don't eat right."

then what are you doing in a bar, sweetie? the poor girl was sick of staying at the house. oh well.

oy, if not for bad luck, diana would have no luck at all. and that's the truth. absolutely. heh.

KEYSTONE COP, MUCH?
so the other day i was working and i smashed my finger in the ladder and it stuck. and i couldn't move and i couldn't jerk my finger out and i couldn't talk or scream or breathe because the pain was too much. and then i thought that hell, it wouldn't matter if i could yell out 'cos dad was on the other side of the house anyway and wouldn't hear me. now the ladder is quite tricky and it's hard to open even with two hands, but at the moment i only had one hand. so i stood there. trapped. and eventually i started cursing. finally my brain came back from it's Pain Nap and started talking to my muscles and i ended up pushing with my good arm and one of my legs to get the ladder to open. i just knew i had severed the knuckle of my ring finger, but god must've been looking out for me 'cos my finger was still intact. ten seconds after freeing my finger is when the pain really hit. oy to tha vey. i cursed some more. but now, two days later there's barely a mark on my finger.
amazing recuperative powers!

September 2003 Dribblings

August 2003 Dribblings