This Weekly is Out of Order

Category: weekleez

 

The One About Nickelodeon
July 28, 2003

hi kids,

so the other day i was talking to this kid. ok, actually i was not talking to the kid. i was standing near the kid who was talking to an adult. i realize that i am an adult, but when i say adult i don’t mean me. i mean an older person. i don’t know why i don’t feel adultish yet. maybe it’s because i’m not married and have 2.3 kids. or 23 kids, whatever. tangent. sorry.

so anyway apparently this kid, whom we will refer to as billy even though that’s not his name, went on vacation and while on vacation he went to Nickeodeon. i was not aware that Nickelodeon is a real place nor did i ever think that if Nickelodeon was a real place that people could actually go to it, so i’m not sure exactly where it is, how to get there, or even what takes place there.

so anyway the adult (not me) asks, “did you get slimed?”

and billy the kid says, “yeah, on the last day we all got slimed.”

so there you go. you get slimed at Nickelodeon. duh.

so i look at this kid and i guess he’s 8 or 9 years young and i think to myself, does this kid even know about slime? i think not! and i became very upset about this. enraged even. because let me tell you what for. these kids today, these lazy self-absorbed children take ‘getting slimed’ for granted. damn kids! why you little…

so i grabbed little billy by the collar and said, “listen up you little punk. you got slimed, right? do you know why? do you know why you got slimed?! do you!? tell me! tell me why you got slimed at Nickelodeon! where did the slime come from you stupid brat?! where?! and if you say Double Dare i’ll choke you right now. i’ll do it! i will!”

ok so i didn’t do that. also if you would like me to baby-sit your child you might want to reevaluate your options. haha i kid. i’m great with children. and booze. i’m really great with booze.

so anyway i was thinking about getting slimed and i remember where the whole slime thing originated only because i watched that show everytime it came on TV. it was You Can’t Do That on Televeision. and i thought it was great because it was like the kids were in charge, when in reality they were probably over-worked and hooked on smack. but that’s not what’s important. what is important is that little billy and his whole Generation D posse will probably never know about that show until Nickelodeon decides to make Nick-Nick at Nite where they show all the old Nick stuff that i had to watch as a kid.

which as i think back on, was probably all crap, but was also the only thing on after school that wasn’t news or boring adult stuff. and true, i watched a lot of PBS as a kid, but sometime it hit me that Nickelodeon was more cool than PBS. not that i could say that now. i’ve seen the Nicktoons that the kids are watching today and it makes me feel old because the cartoons look kinda gross. i mean all the kids have misshapen heads and their mouths are as wide as their whole face. yeah, it bothers me.

ok so maybe my imagination has gone on vacation or something. but those cartoons look terrible. and that arnold kid? the football head? yeah, ouch. and i know that the Rugrats and the Wilf Thornberries are like the hottest thing around, but no kidding what ugly drawings. and i saw on TV the other day that two of the Thornberries are going to be at the local mall sometime soon and it showed the two characters mascot outfit type things. oh god.

those things looked horrible! they were terrifying! and sure, the costumers or whoever did a good job of making them look like the 2D cartoons but geezum pete, they look bad enough in 2D. the 3D counterparts are just plain wrong and scary and not anything i would want my kid to sit on the lap of. sorry. i guess i am old.

so yeah, i think Nick should make a Classic Nick channel or even just a couple of hours on latenight they should show some of the old Nick stuff. like that Pinwheel show. do you remember that? i do but it’s vague. i think it was for the younger kids. i’m not sure but the more i think about it, i think that it was probably heavily drug induced. it was too artsy not to be.

and what about that terribly sad cartoon with the young boy (sebastian) and his giant white dog? and he was always trying to find his mom?

*****

so anyway i started this one about a week and a half ago and i can’t really remember why i started it in the first place. and by now the whole Nickelodeon thing seems lame.

THIS WEEKLY IS OUT OF ORDER

We here at the Weekly apologize for the half weekly that was posted for this week. We usually hate for this sort of thing to happen and generally We fire somebody, anybody, immediately. Unfortunately We fired our last scapegoat about six (6) weeks ago, perhaps you remember The One About Jaimie’s Bathingsuit Crisis? We know. We didn’t think it was funny either. Well, maybe the part where she and her mom talk back and forth in code, wait. No. We’ve decided that that wasn’t funny either.

We, the powers that be, have decided instead to just fire Jaimie as we figure that will insure that there are no future half weeklies, half-assed weeklies, or even any barely tolerable weeklies. We, just like you, are sick and tired of this rambly flim-flam that Jaimie insists on posting week after dreadful week. So We decided that We would write the Weekly this week seeing as how We can’t do any worse than last week’s epitomb, the pathetic ear pierce adventure wherein a 25 year old finally gets ear holes. What a puss.

So here it is, Our Weekly.

Good Evening Children,

We were going to write you a funny essay but We couldn’t decide on what to write. Then We got into a huge fight and #4 sucker punched #2. Then #1 “accidentally” spilled burning hot coffee on Our arm (by the way, We’re #5, hi!) and now We’ve got blisters all over our arm and hand. In fact, They’re making Us type all this out ‘cos They know that it’s hurts Us.

But if We are a collective, then wouldn’t that mean that it hurts… Us? What We mean is, Us as a whole, for We are One! Except that I’m the one typing it and the others are in the lounge drinking cocktails and watching VH1. Secretly We (#5) hate the Others. Don’t tell!

In fact, We were happy that Jaimie finally got her ears pierced. Although We must admit, the swimsuit one really sucked. But We don’t think that #4 could do any better. Of course, We think #4 may be partially retarded…We’ll just say They’re slow. In fact, #4 couldn’t weekly Our way out of a wet paper sack.

*****

ok, you know what? this has become silly. i don’t know how Ayn Rand did it. and further more, We don’t know how to end this Weekly, and We think it’s apparent that We didn’t know how to begin it either.

THIS WEEKLY IS OUT OF ORDER

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The One About Irony

Category: weekleez

The One About Irony
July 28, 2003

hi kids,

so i read this article about irony, and i have decided that i will never again use any form of the word irony to descirbe anything that i think has in any way, shape, or form something to do with irony. because i just don’t know how to use it any more. i blame alanis, writers, and teachers for my lack of knowledge of irony. and also laura, who periodically brings up the fact that sometimes she forgets what irony is and then we all have to stop and think about it at great length, and even find ourselves looking up the definition of irony only to once again forget what the hell it means and how to use it properly*.

well, i don’t really blame alanis. but everyone who ever writes anything about irony must point out that her 1994 uber-mega-hit ironic had nothing to do with irony. at all. and heaven forbid i not poke fun as well. besides this way i won’t get e-mail saying that i forgot to mention that alanis once had a song about irony, but that it wasn’t about irony at all and really, isn’t that ironic?
no, no it isn’t. because claiming that something that is not ironic to be in fact ironic is not ironic at all. i think that’s called lying.

but see, irony is like the parallelogram of the english language: all squares are parallelograms but not all parallelograms are squares.

and don’t i just hate irony for that?

por exemplo:
the definition of irony in my big, honking, red dictionary says that irony is 1. a method of humourous or subtly sarcastic expression in which the intended meaning of the words used is the direct opposite of their usual sense [the irony of calling a stupid plan “clever”]

that’s irony? so sarcasm is irony? or is it? once again big, honking, red dictionary:

sarcasm: 1. a taunting, sneering, cutting, or caustic remark; jibe or jeer, generally ironical

is ironical a word?

see, that’s where the whole irony/parallelogram comes in. irony is sarcasm but not all sarcasm is ironic.

and so basically irony is a lie too because you state the opposite of the truth. that’s a falsitude no matter what. so in that sense irony is a lie but not all lies are ironic.

for instance the sentence:
jimmy is a drunken whore.
lie
jaimie is a drunken whore.
truthitude
jimmy saying, “compared to jaimie, i’m a drunken whore.”
irony
i think. hell, i don’t know. i’m not going to assume that anything in text form or spoken aloud is ironic ever again. it’s all literal now, baby. you’re either a liar or an asshole, but ironic…i’ll never give you the satisfaction.

what’s even more confusing (not really) is situational irony. i mean, if someone chokes and dies while eating a lifesaver…is that ironical? the big, honking, red dictionary’s example of SI is the firehouse burning down. so if A is equal to B and C is equal to irony then not ALL unfortunate deaths are ironic.

*see that’s situational irony (wait. is it? shit.) except that i don’t believe in irony any more. so really it’s just us being forgetful.

oh enough with the nearly smart talk already.

once again dad and i were listening to the wacky oldies AM station in town (it’s horrible by the by. they never finish playing a song! and they’ll interrupt in the middle of a song to play the news reel. c’mon people, it’s radio! you TIME these things. if you MUST play the same news real at every hour then maybe you could sync the songs. if the bleedin’ jr. college station can figure it out i’m sure you can too. or i dunno, maybe hire one of the students from the jr. college. geez, i gotta think of every thing?) it’s WGAD 1350, it’s horrible, but we’re sick to death of classic rock. and neither one of us can stand the new music and then there’s country but over our collective dead bodies… so AM oldies it is.

anyway they start to play brandy you’re a fine girl and i really love that song. so i say, “y’know dad, i really like this song. i think i like it ‘cos it tells a story and i love songs that tell a story.”

dad: oh yeah? hey, is brandy a prostitute in this song?

me: what? no! she’s a waitress.

dad: are you sure? doesn’t she sleep with all the sailors at the harbour or something?

me: geez dad, wasn’t this like, your prom song or something? she’s a waitress and she doesn’t sleep around ‘cos her true love sailorman sailed away.

dad: you sure she wasn’t a lesbian?

me: what?! no! she wanted the sailor. the sailor was the one whose “life, love and lady were the sea”. huh, maybe he was gay.

dad: y’know, that reminds me of this other song about this boat that sank in the great lakes…

me: we are not going there.

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The One About Getting My Ears Pierced

Category: weekleez

The One About You Won’t Believe This
July 22, 2003

hi kids,

well. have I got some NEWS for YOU.

some of you just won’t believe this. you just won’t. if you know me at all then you just won’t believe this. unless of course you live near me and have seen me in which case you WILL believe it, BUT if you don’t live near me (kellyf and retse) then you WILL NOT believe THIS.

i, jaimie pickle, being of sound mind (mostly) and body (was i drinking today?) finally… wait. lemme start over.

i, jaimie lynn pickle, (see i needed to get the ol’ middle name in there to make it seem more serious) being of sound..(hey, don’t tell anyone my middle name, ok? i know it’s not a bad one but still, no one likes their middle name if they never use it, and the only time mine was ever used was when i was in trouble. well, except for now when mom calls me jaimielynn like it’s all one word. i wonder why she started doing that? i think she’s been calling me that for the last two years and y’know, i’ve never asked her why. huh. i am lazy, aren’t i?) anyway, me, jaimie lynn pickle, wait now i’m confused i need a ‘do over’.

i, jaimie pickle, (i took out the middle name because i didn’t really want that to be the focus for this week’s topic and i was afraid everyone would keep staring at it like i do when i see my full name typed out…jaimie lynn pickle…see? isn’t that weird?) finally DID IT!
wait, no you perv. hold on lemme try one more time.

i,jaimiepickle,beingofsoundmindandbody (debatable, i know) on the twentieth day of july in the year of our lord two-thousand and three drove herself to the local mall and got. her. ears. pierced.

I KNOW!

thank you, thank you, thank you. yes, i was brave wittle fleegan. and i didn’t cry AT ALL.
haha ok maybe a little. no i didn’t! i was awesome!

ok so maybe some of you are wondering what the big dealie-o is, right? well, i’ve never had my ears pierced before, evah. evah nevah. so see? i was a big girl and it only took me two days of mental preparation to get it done and…what? my age?
um, 25?

no listen, this is really a big deal! huge. it’s a huge deal. yes, it is. shut up, it really is.

kellyf, retse, tell them! this is a big deal, no? laura you tell them! tell them dammit! tell them how huge this is!!

so you’re probably wondering how this life changing event came about, huh? oh. you weren’t? who’s weekly is this again? that’s what i thought.

we (our group of friends) have all been talking about different piercings lately and cookie and i want to get our eyebrows pierced. no not yet, just READ.

so i see cookie magoo the other day and she’s all, “i got my ears pierced again and it was only 20 bucks and they have some really cool starter earrings to choose from you should go get your ears pierced.”

and i was all, “ooooh. i dunno about that cookie. i’ve never uhhhh y’know i don’t have any umm ears, uh.hhhhhhhuhbehh garble garble garble.”

and she says, “you should do it though, for real.”

and then i think i passed out.

so the next day i was all, “i’m gonna get my ears pierced today so there.”

and laura was all, “really? where? when? today? really? you?”

and i said, “yep. i’m gonna do it today. maybe. i think. yes.”

and she said, “who is going with you?”

oh crap. i gotta take someone with me? if someone goes with me then i’ll HAVE to get them pierced for sure. i’m not gonna wuss out with someone standing there with me. oh hell. oh shit. no way. i’m not doing this. i don’t even want my ears pierced. i want another beer.

“eh. i think i’ll just go by myself sometime this afternoon. y’know, sometime when everyone else is busy or something.”

laura gives me the “oh ok i gotcha” look.

“no really. i’m gonna get my ears pierced. i swear.”

and she says, “ok. it wouldn’t surprize me a bit if you get your ears pierced. really.”

“yeah.” it would surprize me.

so i go to the mall which is the only place that i know of where they pierce the ears. of course, it’s a saturday evening which was not something that i had fully thought about yet.

i go to the cheap jewelry store that we’ll call flaire’s. and there’s 15 kids and 10 parents in there. holy moly. i can’t get my ears pierced with all these people around! shit! what are they doing here? how dare they! this is not going to happen. no way. no.

so i wwent to the book store and bought a book and then went back to flaire’s and there were 5 more people cramed in there and i started sweating and my vision blurred and my head started hurting something awful so i slowly backed out and left the mall. i was so mad. i felt like a weenie. but no kidding i couldn’t do it. so then i’m all, “i’ll just go home and do it myself how hard could it be? yeah, that’s it. i’ll get online and look up a DIY ear piercing page and just get it over with.

no. i didn’t.
the only thing stopping me was that i didn’t have any earrings to put in the homemade hole. i thought about safety pins but then i’d really look like billy idol what with my short white-blonde hair, and that’s not really what i’m going for, y’know?

yeah so the next day happens. and i call jimmy and i say hey, let’s go see kris get ordained (word up! congrats yo!) and then you can come with me and i’ll get my ears pierced and then we can go swimming. and he says, “really? you are getting your ears pierced? you?!”

and i say, “yeah.” and he says, “ok.”

so we go and kris got ordained. yay! and then i went and got my ears pierced with metal. yay!

so we walk into flaire’s and seeing as how it’s a sunday afternoon the place was empty. ah, sweet relief wait..no! damn, now i really am gonna get my ears pierced.

there’s this tiny girl working the joint. gosh how old is she anyway? is she allowed to do piercings? is there a test that the piercer must pass to get like, a piercing license? oh this is a fine time to wonder about this stuff now, jaimie, you’re a real piece of work you know that? shut up! just sit down and let the little girl pierce your ears you big baby.

so i say, “hey do you pierce ears?” and she says, “yes!” and i say, “may i get my ears pierced?” like i’m asking her permission y’know? geez i’m an idiot when i get nervous. and she’s all, “sure!”

you’ve been there. you know how perky she is.

and so i ramble, “look i’ve never had my ears pierced before ok? so um, y’know, ok? is that ok? let’s do this!”

and she’s all, “yay! look at these earrings and pick which ones you want in your ears for the next 6 weeks.”

six weeks?! geez! oh my goodness geez. no. six weeks? for real? oh for crying out…

“huh. ok. um sure. how about these? can i pick those? i mean…um, are these ok? for starters? ok?” quit saying ok, jaimie. settle down. relax. where’s jimmy?

“jimmy?! jimmy? hey. what do you think about this one?” i say as i point to a ball of white gold.

“yeah, that’s nice.”

“ok. i’ll have those then. yes. ok. those. in my ears.”

meanwhile another couple have entered the store and they are looking at the fancy body piercing rings. so you know, they are “old hat” to all of this right? i mean, here i am getting a microscopic piercing and there’s this other chick trying to figure out if she wants the 14 gauge bellybutton ring or not.

yeah. i’m awesome.

so now i’m in the chair and oh wait i forgot to mention the forms i had to fill out. “i need your driver’s license number here and initial these 5 sections and sign here, here, and here. i guess they have to protect themselves, and i can’t sue if my ear turns purplegreen and falls off. also i think they’re getting one of my kidneys.

ok i’m in the chair and she starts talking and i say ok alot. then she starts to do the ear on the right side first and so i’m getting ready and i’m squeezing jimmy’s hand in anticipation of the pain and right is wrong and left is right, right?

“WAIT!” i yell. she stops the near piercing, “yes?”

“well, ok huh. maybe could we…ok you know could we maybe do the left ear first in case you know, in case i freak out and don’t want to do the other one ‘cos i mean, i don’t want to put off the wrong vibe y’know? what i mean? ok?”

“hahaha! yes i know what you mean! ha! we can do the left one first.”

“ok thanks great.” and as she’s about to do the left one i say, “ok so you’ll give me a three count right? or something? are there any kids in here there’s no telling what’s gonna come out of my mouth…”

“haha. there’s no kids in here. and i’ll let you know when i’m about to do it.”

“ok.” at this point the other couple are watching me and i say to them, “it’s my first time. i’m crazy nervous.” they smile politely.

“ok ready?”

“yeah i’m ready.” and i squeeze jimmy’s hand and blink and it’s over and it was just not the biggest deal at all.
“that’s it? that’s what i was worrying about?”

“uh huh.”

“god, i’m an idiot. ok do the other one i can totally do this.”

the couple laughed.

“ok ready?”

“yeah…WAIT! jimmy get back here.” and for some reason even though i knew it wasn’t going to hurt i panicked and had to hold jimmy’s hand again. i.am.a.dweeb.

“ok ready?”

“yep.”

click. over. the couple was smiling at me like proud parents.

jimmy was smiling. the 12 year old kid who just pierced my ears was smiling. i was smiling. the guy in the sunglasses booth was smiling. the toy store was smiling. all the books in the book store smiled as i walked by. the race car that was parked in the walkway, because for some reason there’s always a damn car parked inside the mall, was of course, like everything else, smiling. at me. they love me. the mall embraced me like a mother embraces her…

oh whatever.
so now i have metal dots in my ears. i don’t feel any different except for the dull ache in my left ear. my right ear feels fine. but hey, now you guys can go out and buy me earrings. cute ones. dangly ones. pretty ones. hoopy ones. tribal-looking ones. modcore ones. hardcore ones. kickass ones.

wait. no. on second thought don’t buy me any earrings yet. i’m not sure i’ll make it through the 6 week do-not-remove-trial-of-woe period. i can totally see me clawing these things out. but hey, you guys! me! with totally pierced ears over here!

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Category: weekleez

The One About I Need a Love Adventure
July 7, 2003

hi kids,

a conversation that didn’t exactly happen this way…

therapist: so all of your friends are married and moving on with their lives. how are you doing?

me: (staring at the door) huh? oh i’m fine how are you?

therapist: no, i mean, how does that make you feel?

me: i feel fine.

therapist: so you’re ok with the fact that you’ve been dating the same fleegan for 9 years with nothing to show for it meanwhile your friends are starting families and such?

me: um, what do you mean?

therapist: so you don’t think it’s pathetic* that you’ve dated the same guy for 9 years and you’re not married yet?

me: gee doc, when you say it like that it sounds awful. but when i say it, i add a depreciating laugh at the end of it and it kinda takes the sting out.

therapist: how do you feel about that?

me: how should i feel about that?

therapist: i don’t know. you tell me.

me: tell you what?

therapist: how do you feel about your friends being married?

me: relieved?

therapist: are you asking me?

me: asking you what?

therapist: how you feel.

me: no, that’s what you asked me.

therapist: what emotion do you feel?

me: emotion?

therapist: emotion.

me: what do you mean?

therapist: how do you feel about your friends being married and you not being married even though you’ve been dating the same fleegan for 9 years?

me: oh, you mean how do i feel about my friends being married and i’m not?

therapist: yes.

me: what do you mean?

therapist: you know what i mean.

me: ummmmmmmmm,

therapist: and don’t say fine.

me: fi- oh.

therapist: when you think about it. what emotion do you feel?

(eight minutes of silence)

me: are you asking if i feel jealous? is that what you’re getting at?

therapist: do you feel jealous?

me: mmmmm no.

therapist: good. some people might feel jealous or even bitter.

me: yeah, but i’m a lot lazier than most people.

so anyway, a lot of people keep asking me when i’m gonna get married. it’s really getting very old. kinda like laura and kris are getting sick of everyone asking them, “how’s married life?” so here, let me tell you when i’m getting married.

never.

now that you know you can all stop asking me about it, and while you’re at it let it sink in so that you can start accepting the harsh truth. once you accept it, the healing begins.

bitter? me? no way. i am far too exhausted to even entertain bitterness. i realize i have a 6 year head start. but you guys are smart and i know you can catch up.

but why jaimie, why no marriage? fear of commitment? is the thrill gone? do you even like the guy? how do you deal with your parents’ disappointment?

dunno. no. not exactly. yes very much, next question. gads, whoever asked that question should be pistol whipped.

see, it’s not so much that the thrill is gone. i think that it’s just that i’m lazy and he’s comfortable. it’s not a terrible place to be in, it’s just static. and trust me, we’re not the only relationship in the world like that. so go pick on someone else.

but i have this idea see. and i think it could really work.

you know how in the movies there’s the ex-husband/boyfriend and ex-wife/girlfriend and neither one of them have remarried or seriously dated anyone since thier initial break-up which the viewer did not see because it’s always implied or talked about at the begining of the movie?

OPENING SCENE: two girls at a bar having great fun flirting with the hot but too young bartender.

main girl: oh god, there’s my ex-husband.
quirky best friend: girl, what is up with you two? you both never date anyone. i think you’re still in love with him!
MG: no way!
QBF: yes way!
random drag queen: honey, denial ain’t just a river in egypt. he’s lookin’ at you like you’re in heat.
MG: oh gigi, that’s disgusting!
QBF: he’s right, that man’s hungry for love. you better set the table.
MG: (gets up from the bar throwing down some money) you girls are the horny ones. bye gigi, and you, quirky best friend, i’ll see you at work tomorrow.

and then somehow the main girl and her ex who now becomes the main guy in the movie (probably mel gibson or thom cruise *skknt* or some other hunka-hunka) get involved in a dangerous adventure. their lives are put in danger through no fault of their own. they bicker and argue the whole time. the girl blames the guy for their break-up and vice versa, “you slept with that bitch detective for god’s sake!” “you were never there for me! you were always working late with Raul the photographer! what was i to think?” “you could have asked!” “well i didn’t, so there!”

and during the fight scene when the guy is about to be thrown off the roof of a building because the girl accidentally saw the badguy dealing drugs when she came out of the bar that night which lucky for the girl her ex came out of the bar at the same time to ask her how she had been doing so he saves her by having a great parking space out front (he also drives a fast car) and they get away for now.

anyway, on the rooftop the guy is fighting the baddie and the baddie shoots him and the girl screams because now she’s so sad and realizes that she really loved him so much and he was her only true love and all that. so then the baddie sees her ‘cos she screamed and gave away her hiding place and he points the gun at her and says something horrible about how much fun he’s gonna have with her before he kills her and right when he grabs the stupid girl and tries to give her a sloppy kiss a gunshot is fired and you see a funny expression on the badguy’s face and he says something stupid with blood coming out of his mouth and then the exlover says something memorable which probably has something to do with the tagline of the movie and the girl heaves a sigh of relief ‘cos she sees that her undercover cop exlover was wearing a kevlar vest which makes the audience groan because it’s just what everyone was expecting. so then they embrace and declare their undying love for each other and the last scene is of them getting married and the bridesmaids are the quirky best friend and the drag queen. something funny is said. fade out. roll credits. make checks payable to jaimie pickle.

see, that’s what we need. we need a sort of life and death situation to bring us together and wake us up out of our static, safe relationship stupor.

now then, there’s a lot more of you guys out there than me, so i’m thinking that you guys could all get together and stage some kind of dangerous adventure for us. all i ask is that you don’t use loaded guns. also, when you kidnap me rough me up a bit to make it seem more real, but also make sure there’s a bathroom (a clean one) near by as i have to “go” a lot. thanks!

jimmy requests a cool car chase scene and maybe something really dangerous like a high jump or river rapids. but watchout! he’s had some karate lessons. i, on the other hand, have no defense other than the ol’ #3, which is Scream Like a Girl.

therapist: you do know that movies are fake right?
me: you are such an ass.
therapist: haha. i know. so have you thought about a shotgun wedding?
me: are you suggesting i get pregnant?
therapist: do you think it would work?
me: you know, you’re not the first person to suggest that.
therapist: what does that say?
me: that married people need to get a life.

* he would never say that.

and in other news: dante manglehorn caught two fish!


Dante is on the left. his friend Tokyo Adams is on the right.
they used beetle spins and TNT as bait.

next week’s epitomb: i cheat on jimmy with my secret mexican lover.

jaimie “the ol’ #3” pickle

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The Letter to the Wasps

Category: weekleez

The Letter to the Wasps
July 1, 2003

Dear Hateful Wasps of Southside, Alabama,

The other day while my father and I were pressure washing a house in rural Southside, Alabama you filthy scum attacked us repeatedly. You flew at our heads when we were looking down and you flew very close to the ground when we were looking up. I must say that landing on my legs and shoes was a very bold move on your part, however two of your bretheren were killed in that maneuver. Was it worth it?

In all these two months that i have been working outdoors I have never experienced a problem with wasps. Ants and mosquitos yes, wasps no. In fact, up until two days ago I would have claimed that wasps are the most laid back of all the winged, stinging insects. Not anymore. That coveted title now goes to bumble bees for the bumble bees have left me alone.

Bumble bees are truly God’s creatures for they fly from flower to flower gathering pollen and leaving bits of it behind so that flowers can have their weird Flower Sex to make more flowers. Bees make the sweet, sweet honey that John the Baptist used to wash down the locusts and that we put on toast and in our hot tea to relieve our sore throats. And what do you do? What sort of gift do you provide for mankind? You build your evil Death Star nests of vomit paper on our eaves and under our wooden decks…the same wooden decks that our children walk on! You are truly children of Lord Satan and his Canadian minions.

Your aggressive attitude and tactical genius has alerted me to the possiblity of a secret laboratory somewhere in the farmland and hazy jungles of Southside, Alabama. Do not think for one second you can fool me. I recognized your aggressive behavior and your cunning fighting skillz for what they were…your ninjitsu stealth gave you away. And don’t think that I won’t find that lab and blow it up in an action sequence that would make Vin Diesel proud.

I don’t know why such an experiment was started in the first place. Perhaps it was a good expereiment gone wrong? Perhaps it was a rogue scientist trying to find the perfect formula for a new biological weapon? Although crossing a wasp with a barracuda just doesn’t seem like all that great of a weapon mainly because you wasps have tiny stupid brains that can’t even grasp the idea of not building your nests in the same exact spot that I just drenched with poison and knocked to the ground and stomped on saying, “DIE! DIE! DIE!”
idiots.

Or perhaps it was just some crazy guy that wanted to make some badass wasps. Whatever the reason, you Teenage Mutant Ninja Wasps will not succeed for I will fight you with my dying breath and a giant can of Raid. That shit sprays 10 feet of wasp killing poison that is sure to ruin your day and the days of your unholy coven. This is not a threat but a promise, a promise I will relish carrying out.

I will admit that your scouts, the pygmy wasps, were a clever diversion. The two stings they dispatched hurt like a mother, I’ll give you that. BUT I will have you know that I have only scratched at one of them ’til it bled not both, and I killed one of the bastards immediately after he stung me, that my friends, is what sportsfans call a tie. So I say we let the sportsfans decide!

I challenge you! That’s right! I challenge you sumbitch wasps to a deadly duel in the walkabout! I’m talkin’ Thunderdome! So bring your skanky beeotch asses and we’ll let those dirty post-apocolyptic road warriors decide our fate! Two men enter. One man leaves.
But in our case it’s: A girl and a bunch of pissant wasps that no one loves enter. The girl leaves.
You remember what happened to Goliath doncha?!

O you foul bastard wasps of Southside, how you have tortured me with your fly-by’s and your squadron of low-flying sons-of-bitches pygmy wasps. Do you dare accept the challenge or are you gonna go back and fly awkwardly around the spot where your nest used to be until I gleefully knocked it down and stomped on it killing 4 of your brother beasts?

Bring it!

Sincerely,

Jaimie “wasp killa” Pickle

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The Swimsuit Edition

Category: weekleez

The Swimsuit Edition
June 17, 2003

hi kids,

first off, a shout out to Wisconsin Wendy who fell down and broke her crown. she cracked her head up good from what i hear. so put your prayer hats on, kids, and send one up for the lady with the busted skull. poor wendy.

so the other day it was almost warm out. and i thought to myself that it might be a good time to get out the old bathin’ suit and go for a swim in mom and dad’s pool.

so i got out my bathing suit from last year and, damn, what happened to it? i’m not sure, but it’s the same thing that happens every three or years…my bathing suit disintigrated. why does it do that?!

i’m thinking it’s gotta be the pool chemicals. but that doesn’t really help me much, right? because the only thing i can do is go out and buy a new bathin’ suit. oh god, is there anything worse? girls? is there?

as if waking up being me every day isn’t hard enough, this day i have to wake up still being me and go buy a new bathin’ suit. and i already know that it’s not going to be good, right? ‘cos the last time i bought a new suit was at least 6 years ago. because i remember going with jimmy to buy my last suit which was green i think. poor jimmy.

well that one disintegrated three years ago, right on schedule. and i thought that that was ok as i’m not huge fan of swimming anyway. i mean, sure back in the day i was in the pool from sun up to sun down complete with bloodshot eyes from opening my eyes underwater (we were too poor to have masks and goggles when i was wee) green hair (from the chlorine) and the painful, ever-present swimmer’s ear.

but then mom came home one day with a bathin’ suit and said, “here. i bought this.” which was mom’s way of saying, “hey jaimie, i bought this bathing suit for you ‘cos i know how lazy you are and that you won’t go out and buy a new one and you’ll just sit outside and watch people swim while you just burn up and get bitten by bugs and drink the summer away.”

what can i say? mom and i have a special relationship.

“uh, oh. thanks mom.” i said, which she took to mean, “oh jesus god thanks mom, you saved my life! how did you know what size to get oh who cares let me get this on so i can go soak in the pool and not get bitten by bugs and drink the summer away, you’re the best.”

she replied with, “you’re welcome.” which actually meant, “you’re welcome.”

that suit lasted me for three years and right up until the other day when i pulled it out and it turned to dust, like ancient papyrus, in my hands. “ah rats!” i said which really meant, “jimminy christmas! has it been three years already? oh god what am i gonna do?! this is just the pits! ok ok don’t panic jaimie, we can get through this. first thing we do…get a beer. then tomorrow, we go for a new bathin’ suit…ok? plenty of time to mentally prepare to submit yourself to the trauma that is bathing suit shopping. ok? it’s all gonna be ok.”

ok. sure. it’s all gonna be ok.

look, it’s never ok, ok? and the girls know that.

there is nothing more damaging to the self-esteem than to have to try spandex casing after spandex casing of brightly colored material only to have to turn around and face the Mirror of Truth and Horrors.
“oh god! is there someone behind me? no wait, that’s just my fat ass.” sigh.

i managed to find a suit that actually has a collar which i thought was hilarious, ‘cos i mean, that’s so me. but the scary part is that it zips up the front.
it zips. up. the front.

basically i look like a fat porn star. my summer is complete. pass the booze, a’ight? look, shut up and pass the booze.

s’anyway, enough about my bathin’ suit adventures.
you won’t believe my legs.

my legs look like they did when i was 11 years old. they are bug bit and scratched up like you would not believe, in fact, the only thing they’re missing is skinned knees. and trust me, it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if i woke up tomorrow and did a half-gainer down the stairs only to roll to safety and find myself looking down at two skinned knees.

i’ve been working with my dad this summer painting and pressure-washing houses. it is tough work but terribly satisfying. there’s something so fulfilling about doing hard and physical work. i can’t explain it. the work isn’t really mind-challenging or anything, but it’s just so great to step back from the fence i’m staining and think, ‘hey, i’m gonna finish this by lunch time! early day with pay.’ it’s a great feeling.

the only drawback is the bugs. i have been bitten by 1/4 of all the mosquitoes in etowah county. and it’s only june. and if i’m not getting zapped by skeeters i’m standing, like a moron, in an ant bed. unknowingly of course until they all crawl up legs and give the signal to bite at the same time. which is what they do, y’know.

“alright ant soldiers! fall in! prepare to infiltrate the leg! serpentine formation! go! go! go! go! wait for my signal to fire! aaaaaaand bite! bite! bite! bite!”

oh my gosh. fire ants are brutal. i had tried taking benedryl and it did nothing for the itch. i tried two different types of goop and it did nothing for the itch. by day three it was not only itching 24 hours a day, it was throbbing and bruised…i guess because i had scratched at it a few times. so i was nearly out of my mind when linda suggested something about neosporin which i thought, “eh, i dunno, maybe it’ll do something. i’ll try anything at this point.” but then she saw my neosporin had expired 15 years ago, that’s right 1988. and she threw it away! she threw my stuff away! i said, “hey! what’reya doin’ that for?! that’s mine!” and she said that it was so old it wouldn’t work anymore and i said that yeah but it was mine and i still use it and she said that it was too old and we went round and round for a few but then…

i looked in my medicine box. and there. was something. and i knew that it would work. i knew it would work because it did not claim to relieve itching. it did not claim to relieve the massive irritation/pain of biting bugs. it had nothing to do with skin period. hell, it had expired in ’99.
it was perfect. and i knew it.
i let out a squeal of joy!

“what did you find?” asked linda.

“orajel!” i beamed.

sweet medicine of victory, orajel. it worked and i am a genius. i’m like the mcguyver of medicine! tatdow!

and now, i am pleased to announce
the retirement of The Popple.


we bid the poor bastard adieu

there are some who never met the Popple. consider yourselves lucky. there are those, and you all know whe you are, who have seen the Popple up close, who have seen the popple dance, and who have seen the poor beast be raped repeatedly by Ms. Sparks’s dog, Mr. Emett. he’s a bad dog. bad!

Mrs. Sparks has finally, finally decided to retire the Popple to lovely Boca Raton with the rest of the fogies like the Shirt Tales and Monchichis.

goodnight sweet prince.

 

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The One About Old Comic Strips

Category: weekleez

The One About Old Comic Strips
June 10, 2003

hi kids!

so the other day my father and i went to eat breakfast at this greasy spoon called country junk-shun. i think that’s how ya spell it. anyway, the place used to be an old junk store and my father and i would go there and look at all the cool old junk and i think maybe i bought a few ashtrays there one time but really that was a long time ago and i guess i should just get on with the weekly.

so now the place is a restaurant. but it’s still got some junk on the walls. and it’s fun to look at because some of the stuff is like, “hey! we had one of those!” and “look! remember that cup? we had one like that!” and so on and so forth.

and they had two glasses that had Daisy May and Lil’ Abner on them and dad was all, “Lil’ Abner, that’s pretty old.” and i said that that cartoon always made me think of the Beverly Hillbillies only worse. and he said, “yeah, you know really, that comic wasn’t funny. at all.” and i said that yeah, most comics aren’t i mean, have you ever laughed at a Beetle Bailey?

and dad said that he had laughed at the Beetle Bailey cartoon that was in yesterday’s paper and he proceeded to tell me about it. “in the first part it shows the army guys and they’re gonna play poker but they can’t find the poker chips, right? and in the next block someone says that it’s ok if they can’t find them they’ll just make do with what they can find. and in the last bit it shows the cook really mad and the guys are playing cards and betting with carrots and potatoes and such.” and then my dad busts out in this fake laugh. and then we both agreed that Beetle Bailey is a waste of comic strip area. they should put Calvin and Hobbes reruns in BB’s spot. dig?

so then dad says, “i always hated the Nancy comic.” and he said Nancy like the word itself tasted bad, y’know? and he went on about Nancy and Sluggo. and i couldn’t remember any Sluggo. but i think i remember Nancy, but maybe i’m really thinking about that other one…whatsit…Lulu? doesn’t matter, none of them are funny.


oh. that’s Sluggo.
i thought he was Mickey Rooney.


nice dress Lulu. slut.

and we both agreed that the worst cartoon ever was Henry, the bald, mute, possibly deaf little boy whose big adventures included fishing (and catching only a tin can or a car tire), not talking, and walking down the sidewalk whistling that one note.
here’s an example of a mindnumbing epitomb of Henry:

ok. in block #1 we see Henry um, planing a piece of wood. they didn’t have video games back then. also, is it ok for deaf, mute, and mildly retarded children to play with carpentry tools?

alright block #2, it appears that Henry has found the planing “zone” and is feverishly whittling the wood. if you know what i mean. it’s a metaphor. get it? hey look, this is as good as it got back then, that’s why they call it the Depression.

block #3: Henry is inspecting his handiwork (he made a toothpick. an egg-sucking toothpick) with a magnifying glass. get it?! he made a tiny toothpick out of a huge log! hahabloodyha.
also metaphor. also Henry, you make me weary.

block #4: i hate you Henry, with the white-hot fury of a thousand burning suns, oh yes Henry, i hate you.

the only thing more puzzling than Henry’s one note whistle is the fact that they still make Archie comics. i know they still make them because i see them by the TV Guide at the grocery store. who the hell is buying Archie comics?! geezum pete shouldn’t those kids be having grandkids by now?

don’t even get me started on Snuffy Smith.

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Another One About the Library

Category: weekleez

Another One About the Library
June 03, 2003

hi kids,

so i was at the library the other day, only the eighth (8th) time i’ve been there in the last five (5) weeks. i think the librarians are starting to think i’m stalking them. it turns out that one of the librarians has started going to the same church i go to so now i have a librarian friend.

i’ve always thought it would be pretty cool to be a librarian ‘cos you would know where all the books are and probably know where all the secret books are because i’m certain that there are secret hidden books that the general patrons are not allowed to read. i want to read those books. so bad.

but anyway this librarian is a nice old lady and i wanted to ask her how she got a job at the library and see what kinds of classes you have to take to be an ol’ dry, crusty librarian. i’m not saying that this lady is dry and crusty or anything, ‘cos she’s not, but most of the other ones are.

i never get a chance to ask her though, ‘cos she’s always talking to me about church and things and she talks kinda loud. and it’s embarassing ‘cos we’re in a library and you’re supposed to whisper in a library, god lady, keep it down! use your library voice. sheesh.

but then i ran into her husband at the grocery store one day and we were talking and i said that i had just seen his wife at the library just a few hours ago and he said, “yeah, you know, she went there everyday and they just asked her if she wanted to work there since she was always there anyway.”

shit. is that all it takes?
i should be manager by now!

i think that the library should hire me to work there ‘cos i’m really much more friendly than most of the other people there. especially during the summer. the summer help is really lame.

now don’t tell the library this, but if i ever do get to work there, the first thing i’ll do is ask where the secret books are and then i’ll check them out and let you guys know all about the secret books. plus i’ll tell you where the secret books are located so that you could go get them too and the other librarians would think that you must be someone really important since you knew about the secret books.
don’t say i never hypothetically did anything for ya. *wink*

but then i got to thinking. i’ll bet that working at the ‘brary would get boring after a while. i mean, let’s say i’ve finished reading all the secret books and exploring all the secret tunnels. then what? i suppose i’d get to help stupid kids find information for their stupid research papers. i mean, that might make me feel good for a while, knowing that i helped a stupid kid out on his/her very stupid research topic.

i once had to write a paper on frogmen.
let me tell ya somethin’, the Gadsden Public Library is very limited on it’s information about frogmen.

so yeah, helping kids, yeah, um really rewarding.

but see, i can already tell where this is going to end up. because of my reading all the secret books and knowing all the secret passages and dungeons and hidden relics (i’m pretty sure, though it cannot be proven, that st. john came over here sometime during his, um, travels and cut off his pinky toe to leave here specifically to be used as a healing device and good luck charm before heading off to france) and also all the booby traps (boob!) that i’ll have a sense of power about the place.

i’ll get all superior-like and will probably take to wearing tight leather suits and boots that stretch up to my knees. shiny boots. and my hair would be all spikey with like, rubber stamps and book marks in it at the ready.

i’ll start referring to it as MY library, and they will be MY books. and the poor shemps who come in to read MY books will be MY patrons. and when one of MY patrons comes to me and MY throne of books (for i will have built a massive chair out of reference books since nobody gets to check those out anyway for the library is a greedy beast) to ask in a meek voice whether or not they, although not deserving of it, can check out one of MY many books. i’ll look at their pitiful selection and upon seeing that the peasant has chosen a mindnumbing pulp by danielle steele (whose real name is probably david steelowschki or something) i’ll snatch the offending book from the peasant’s grasp with my trusty ‘brary whip made from leather that i tore off the really old books, MY really old books and i’ll kick them in the stomach knocking them into one of the sinister non-fiction stacks (that i’ll have decorated with giant spiders and an assortment of unlucky patrons’ bones) and yell in my booming whisper, “you make me sick! a pulp?! i think not! go fetch Boccaccio’s Decameron and if you’re lucky i won’t take an eye!”

“y-y-y-yes, b-b-‘brarianatrix jaimie, ma’am.”
“ma’am? ma’am?! do i look like a crusty ol’ biddy to you, dirt?” i’ll ask while holding the pointy end of my dagger/envelope opener to the peasant’s soft throat.
“n-n-no mistress.”
“goooood. now go get that tome and don’t for get to lick my boots on your way out, worm.”

see, part of me craves that power, but the other part of me, the smarter and much more cowardly part of me knows that to get to that level of library goddess i’ll have to fight and kill all the other librarians in a greco-roman style game of wrestling. and although the thought of me proving my mad hand-to-hand gladiatrix skillz to the world really appeals to my dark side, my nice, jedi side tells me not to be seduced by the dark side.

for the time being the library and it’s patrons are safe. just know that right now, all the yodabrarians out there are feeling a disturbance in the force. and it’s me.
now go click some links, you vomitous wretch!

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The One About Ann Rule

Category: weekleez

The One About Ann Rule’s Book About My Murder
May 13, 2003

Warning: This Weekly is Rated ‘R’ for fictional graphic descriptions of violence and gore.

hi kids,

listen, if you ever find out that Ann Rule has written a book about me, please, don’t read it. for those of you who don’t know who Ann Rule is or what she writes, well, lemme tell ya, she’s a writer what writes about true crime. because there’s never enough of that stuff out there. it all started with The Stranger Beside Me which pretty much just fell into her lap seeing as how she was a one Mr. Thedore Bundy’s cow-orker. And apparently she’s been stuck in that genre ever since.

so if in the future you happen to run across a book of her’s entitled something like The Broken Pickle Jar or Pickle Juice: Death by Poison or even In a Pickle: The Death of a Struggling Fleegan just promise me you won’t read it. when you see her book about me on the best-seller shelves just know that first of all, i’m probably dead. second of all, my murder was undoubtedly gruesome and a great mystery. and thirdly, my murderer had plotted my death for years and was probably someone very close to me…a family member for sure.

but please, don’t read that book. honestly, let my violent murder remain a mystery in your eyes and merely say a prayer for my soul which will probably be in hell for making fun of that old guy the other day, yelling at god for “not paying attention” (my words, not his), and for crushing lightning bugs against the sidewalk to make streaks of that yellow-green glow-y stuff when i was little. children can be so cruel. that’s why we invented hell.

so when you see that thick paperback with the really neat cover that has this hot chick being strangled by mysterious black-gloved hands (oj?), just…let it go.
i know you’re curious. i know you want to know whodunit. heck, i wanna know whodunit, but please, trust me, it’s not a pretty story. it probably doesn’t have any steamy sex-scenes or action-packed car chases either.

now true, my murder will be a disgusting barage of violence and torture, and Ms. Rule will most assuredly paint my murder in colors of red, dark red, reddish brown, hot pink and organic shapes of sin and death. but please, don’t read that book.

i am certian that Ms. Rule will no doubt do my murder justice in her massive description of the crime scene which will probably take up a chapter and a half of grusome detailic drama. her descriptions of all the sights, smells, textures; the sounds of the blood dripping off the ceiling, the stenches, the gore of the flesh-eating disease that has eaten off my face and upper-body as a means to cover up the real murder…my body…riddled with bullet holes and cat sick. but please don’t read that book. just don’t.

in fact, i’d bet my left arm that Ms. Rule’s supposition of how my murder went down will be full of chilling suspense and drama and she’ll tell how i valiantly fought against the assailant and nearly saved myself by turning the gun, knife and broad sword back on the evil murderer. when in fact, that is not how it would have happened at all, and i really just screamed like a girl while my murderer stabbed my trembling, soon-to-die body with bullets and ice cubes.
don’t read it.

and when it gets to the part where Ms. Rule tells who the caustic killer is, when she unmasks the sick bastard murderer villain and goes into great detail of how he/she (i dunno, i haven’t read the book yet) plotted, planned and gained great pleasure from removing me from the land of the living and placing me on Charon’s rotting boat, she will have done so making you feel so sorry for me and my gruesome untimely demise, making your heart ache for the family that i left behind (a loving husband and two very precious now motherless children, a sweet cocker-spaniel and a red jeep).

i just want you to know, that after she’s pushed and pulled your emotions, after she’s made you nauseated with bloody descriptions of severed limbs hacked off with old, rusty, lead pipes, blood…gushing and congealing and caked, swollen organs and bursting eye balls. when she grosses you out with sickeningly mawkish scenes of my children’s last words to me as i left that fateful night, “wuv you mommy” and “pwease bwing us ice cweam”, when she has completely made you her bitch by controlling your feelings and emotions, i just want you to remember that i told you not to read that book.

that book is Ann Rule’s book and she’s the one who made all the money from it. she’s the one who went around pestering my poor family about all the yummy details of my murder so’s that she could make another “killing” on the best-seller list. god, i can’t believe you read that book.

actually i’m sure that Ms. Rule is a nice lady. and her books must be suitably wonderful because i think she’s sold like, 400 bazillion (at last count) books in the last 20 years all starting with The Stranger Beside Me which now plays on the USA Network about twice a week i think.

and if you’re still reading, you might be thinking, “why does jaimie think someone is going to kill her?” well, see that’s not how i came up with this weekly at all. see what happened was that i was reading an old “family” (not gay) favorite, Oedipus Rex and i thought about how Sophicles wrote it as all dialogue mostly. it’s just people standing around talking and i thought it would be cool if someone else wrote it again and maybe put a bit more action in it…more than just a shepard walking up, y’know? so i thought WWARD?
i’m thinking she would have a tough time with the chorus part, but that maybe she could have it be a police scanner or something.

but that was going to be way too involved for a weekly. so i opted for the chunder you’ve just read.

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The One About Complaining + Sita’s Weekly

Category: weekleez

The One About Complaining
May 06, 2003

hi kids,

i had the terrible misfortune of accidentally watching the news yesterday. the local news is absolute swill and all it’s blathering on about is one of the university’s coach being fired and bladdy bladdy bladdy. it’s so lame it hurts. but then the other news segment follows and i hear, “bladdy bladdy bladdy had to cut off his own arm with a pocket knife bladdy bladdy bladdy…”

*gasp* the horror…the horror.

so there we are, my family and i, just kind of sitting there with horrible expressions on our faces and all of us thinking the same thing, i think i’m gonna hurl, and none of us say anything for a moment. it was a moment of silence for the lost arm. so we’re all trying ot think of something to say because we really don’t want to be thinking about some poor shemp having to CUT OFF his own ARM with a POCKET KNIFE but the thing is, all we can think about is some poor shemp CUTTING OFF his own ARM with a bleeding POCKET KNIFE.

so i mention that it’s gonna be hard for all of his friends to ever complain about anything in front of him ever again.

and because we didn’t catch the poor shemp’s name on the news (and because i cannot find it on cnn or google) we refered to the one-armed man as Bill. even though i think it’s Mike, i just can’t find any proof of that.

Tom: dang! i lost my keys today at the laundromat and i can’t…
Bill: yeah, um, i had to cut off my own arm with a pocket knife, tom.
Tom: oh bill! heh. um, sorry.

Joe: geezy peezy i sure did stub my toe this morning and can you believe it still hurts? sheez i tell you there’s nothin worse than…
Bill: uh joe? yeah i just had to cut off my own arm with a pocket knife…there is something worse than stubbing your toe.

Judy: oh for heaven’s sake i’ve been riding around all day. first the kids had to be picked up from school and little timmy had soccer practice meanwhile i had to hoof it to little julie’s softball game and oh golly now i have to go home and make dinner for the whole family. i tell ya, i never get a break.
Bill: hi judy, little julie sure played well today, but you know what? i couldn’t clap when julie hit that double, because i had to cut off my own arm...with a pocket knife.

Tom: today was awful. i had a fender-bender on main street and then when i got home i found my dog dead in the road i tell ya…
Judy: better hush tom, here comes bill.
Tom: ah jeez. if i have to hear about him cutting off his own arm again i swear i’m gonna…
Judy: don’t forget about the pocket knife…

yep, i’m gonna burn for these ya know.

so the other day i drive ALL THE WAY to the university library to check out two very specific books that i cannot get at the public library. i find the two books and proceed to check them out. but wait, it’s never that easy is it?

the old lady librarian says, “i’m sorry you can’t check these books out.”
what? i can’t?
“you aren’t registered for classes.”
but…what’s that got to do with…
“you must be registered to use the library. sorry.”
registered? but i’m a graduate for christ…
“sorry.”
there’s no way i can check these books out today?
“um, are you taking classes in the fall?”
yes! yes i am!
“are you registered?”
*gasp* no. no i’m not.
“sorry.”

so i leave very confused and upset. i’m a graduate for crying out loud! aren’t graduates entitled to all the bloody “priviledges” that students get? shit. how much money did those assjacks get outta me? and i can’t check out two books that haven’t been checked out since 1976? damnation that just makes me so mad.

but not to worry for i am an evil-genuis, i drove straight to the public library (which only took 45 minutes, feh.) and asked the nice lady behind the desk if they can inter-library loan books from JSU and she said that they usually try to get them from the nearest library but that would probably be JSU anyway, but she’s not the actual one who does that…i’ve got to go see the lady on the second floor, she’s in charge of inter-library loan. oh ok. so i always forget about the “second floor” because i haven’t been up there since 10 grade.

after walking about for 47 seconds i find the “hidden in plain sight” stair-case. i walk by that thing every time i’m in there. but i never see it. i think it’s some kind of state-of-the-art camo/sheild system. you can only see it if the floor librarian wants you to see it.

so i go up to the mezzanine and there’s no one there as apparently the lady went to lunch. so much for my diabolical scheme. and i’ve been too busy to go back.

*sneers* you win this round, library.

and hey! sita sent me a weekly that she wrote! so here it is!

The One About Sita’s Luck

Things are never exactly normal in my life. But normal things are boring. Well, actually, I wouldn’t know. Nothing normal ever happens to me. Witness the following accounts:

Example One:

A friend of mine, Tia, needed some repair work done on her car and in return she received a nice Dodge Ram pickup to use until then. This gave me an idea. Four wheel drive = major fun with a truck we don’t have to worry about repairing. So we head out to some outskirt and somehow end up back into the suburbs. Gracious houses lined lighted streets. As we came to a four way stop, we noticed this horse trot by.

Huh? A horse in the middle of all these houses? Ah, crap. It’s heading for the freeway.

Without thinking, I hop from the truck and bolt after this horse. Okay, so I didn’t really think about the fact that the truck could move faster than I could run. But Tia said that I would have made my PE teacher proud. I sprinted about a mile before I reached it.

So I get to this horse and wrap my arms around its neck, hoping to slow it down. This is when I notice that the horse isn’t broken in yet. Double-crap. I tried to swing up onto its back to no avail so Tia swings the truck in front of the horse only to have to reverse because the horse starts to go over the truck!

By then the police arrived. They located the horse’s owners and were going to steer the horse back that way.

I called my boss to let her know that I hurt my arm and how but she told me that was no excuse. It wasn’t my horse.

Example Two:

Tia and her husband, Rick, decided to hang out with me one Saturday night and try out our new cue sticks for pool. But, being a Saturday night, most everything was packed. I suggested this old ma and pa joint that I’d seen on the bus one time.

First off, let me state that I swear this wasn’t my fault. I think.

When we arrive there, the place has two open pool tables and the other patrons stare at us as if to ask “why are you invading our territory?” But we simply ignore then and play with our sticks and their balls. (Quota)

Tia and I were tied at two games a piece with Tia lining up her shot when all of the sudden we hear what sounds like an explosion and the building shakes before the power goes out.

Rick and I both had emergency training. He headed out the back and I headed out the front trying to see if we could find out what happened. Turned out that the massive gusts of wind had knocked down a tree onto the back of the bar.

Through the pouring rain, Rick and I realize that the tree had fallen lengthwise onto a car with someone still inside.

It turns out that the guy had been kicking back sleeping off a drinking binge. The only thing he was worried about was where his cat was. He didn’t have a scratch on him. Rick kept him calm while I make sure the police/fire departments are on their way.

Only after everything settles did we realize that the car had power lines on it and that Rick and I were both standing in puddles.

As we pull out to go home, Rick turns to Tia and states: “We are never letting her pick where we go again.”

What can I say? I’m special.

thanks be to sita for sharing! and for making the weekly look like it was really long! fake out! fake out!

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