The One About Grace

Category: weekleez

The One About Grace
April 22, 2003

hi kids,

i was told that i have no excuse for not writing a weekly this week seeing as how i have no job and my only final was last week. but gosh it was tough to come up with and write out a weekly between running errands, jumping off old ladies’ car batteries, posting at the message board, and playing 14 hours worth of video games. in fact, i’m not sure how i ever managed to get anything done when i had a job. there’s just not enough hours in the day!

right, so first there are some thank you’s to be doled out. thanks be to lorna, laura and carla for giving me lotsnlots of sugar for easter. it’s good to be back on de sugars. lorna, the chocolate covered strawberries were divine! also, i owe carla a spy name ‘cos she also gave me a minnie mouse toy and she’s been after a spy name for years now. carla, your spy name is Flippy Chinchilla and you are a mistress of disguise!

so the other day i was talking to my friend grace. she’s nine years old and i get the sneaky suspicion that she wants to be like me. i think i figured that out when her mom said to me, “she wants to be like you, you know.” can you imagine being the parent of the kid who looks up to the chick with the blue spikey hair? what must she be thinking? “four more years and jerry springer here we come!”
ha ha, i kid. i’m a great role model.
ha ha, i kid.

i think one reason that kids kinda like me is because i’m so short and it makes them feel older to be just as tall or taller than an oldster like me. also, i think they like the hair.

so i was talking to grace and it’s apparent that this kid is cool already because she has short hair. short hair is the best. when i was a kid i didn’t even know short hair was an option. i had long hair in a pony tail for 20 years. in fact, i think i was afraid to cut my hair. something about losing all my strength. but see grace is way ahead, she’s nine years old and already knows that short hair is the best. and now she tells me that when she gets older she’s gonna have blue hair too.

ya gotta love that.

grace plays soccer. and from what i hear she’s really good at it. i’ve never seen her play because what can i say? i’m a horrible role model. plus the games are at the ass crack of dawn on saturday mornings. but really that’s no excuse. i should go to one of her games. if she plays this week then i promise i’ll go to her game. cross my heart and hope to die.

so i asked her the other day how soccer was going and she said that her team was undefeated. i said, “really? that’s great. you think you’ll win on saturday?” and she looked at me like i had just turned into fat, old elvis and she said that yeah, they were going to smash the other team. she said it so matter-of-factly. as if losing were not an option.
huh, what on earth does that feel like?

they hadn’t yet invented soccer in the usa when i was a wee fleegan so i played on a girl’s softball team. and we were horrible. we lost every game but one, and i think the one game we did win had something to do with the other team forfeiting because all of their arms had fallen off or something. our team was terrible. we were like the Bad News Bears of rainbow city. except tatum o’neil wasn’t on our team and we never went to japan. and our uniforms had blue shirts. and also walter mathau was not our coach.

in fact, our coach was a complete assjack. he worked at the prison and he would come to practice everyday still wearing his guard uniform. and what i mean by that is he wore his gun and holster on his belt everyday at practice. let me say that again but slightly different. he’s wearing his glock while yelling at nine year old girls to run faster.
*sigh* you just can’t make up stuff that good.

my dad to this day still has a problem with the guy packin’ heat at a little girl’s softball practice. every practice. what is the point of intimidating little girls anyway? i mean the fact that he had the whistle was enough for us.

can you imagine?
“hey you! right fielder! *sound of gun being cocked* quit playing in the chalk line…now! show me some hustle! and the rest of you…*erratic gun waving* i wanna hear some chatter!”

luckily, i don’t think that grace’s soccer coach wears a six-shooter or anything. so i saw her a couple of days later and asked her how her game went and she said, “we beat them 9-0.” and again in her matter-of-fact way, “we smashed them. i told you.”
wow, not only does she have short hair but she’s on a winning team. this kid is a genius! and she looks up to me!

i can’t remember if i had someone that i looked up to.
but i do know that at grace’s age i wanted to be diana ross. so now grace wants to be me…and so in Weekly Logic…that makes me…
diana ross!
*spreads arms out, head back* “thank you…i love you!”

god, i must’ve been a weird kid. diana ross?

now see, i remember seeing this diana ross special concert thing on showtime back in the day when showtime was the only movie channel that existed. and at the beginning of this special it had ms. ross in like the african serengeti and she was dressed in furs and feathers and she was all kinds of gettin’ her jungle on. and these very physically fit jungle men were surrounding her and she turned them into lions or something. so see, that’s the dianna ross i wanted to be. nubian-jungle-queen diana ross not sequened-gown-backed-up-by-mary-and-flo diana ross.
also, she knew michael jackson, and back then that pulled a lot of weight with me.

so as we can see, grace has a huge head start on me with the whole cool thing.

linkslinkslinks!

meredith sent this fun one http://www.poetry.com/Poetry_IN_Motion/MagCon.asp and you can win money!

and laura’s wacky link that she found whilst making the weekly graphique (LWLTSFWMTWG): a site with homemade music videos using clips of That 70s Show!

charity “groovy gal” rakestraw sent me to homestar runner and if you don’t spend at least 30 minutes here then obviously you have other things to do. i like the Strong Bad character best. he reminds me of west finlayson for some reason.

and prof.zim.FA sent these funny as always links:
yatta! it took me 40 minutes to download but was worth it.
more about the pirate movie! yay pirates!
fun with the 10 plagues! what? here’s a quote from the page:
1. Nile waters turning to blood –put red food coloring in the water glasses at the dinner table, in the bathroom sinks, in the dog’s water bowl, and anywhere else you can think of.

also, lego church.

and lisa sent this site about handicap pets. i’ll admit i’m a little weirded out by pictures of dogs with wheels for back legs. but i’m not so callous as to make fun of them. however, some one else was. but not to worry as apparently the handicappedpets.com didn’t mind so much for they linked to spoofy site. which i found odd.

there you go.

next week’s epitomb: jaimie’s unemployment adventures

jaimie “jumper cables” pickle

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WWTHD?

Category: weekleez

The One About WWTHD?
April 8, 2003

hi kids,

so.

i quit my job.

a week and a half left, and i’m free.
also, penniless.

i’ve never quit a job before. actually that’s a total lie. in high school i worked at Flendy’s for a week.

the thing is, i’ve quit my job but i haven’t figured out what i’m going to do next. that isn’t like me. i have plans! i set goals! i know what i’m going to order before i pull up to the drive-thru! i’m an adult female who knows what she wants when she wants it and by god if i don’t have it when i want it then there’s a problem, and like the amazing, strong-willed woman that i am, i fix the problem and then get to the part where i get what i want! feh! i make things happen! i get things done! i make the sweet money that buys the shoes for the babies!

but not any more.
because i quit my job and have no contingency plan. what?! no plan?! with no plan there’s no attack! no attack, no victory! can anything good come of this?
i have no idea.
but i’m not ashamed to admit i’m scared out of my mind.

i feel like i’m on a boat and the boat is crumbling apart while speeding down some white-capping rapids and the rapids fork off left and right. to the left, of course is the obligatory waterfall. waterfalls are always on the left. to the right (your other left) are sharp, pointy rocks and on the banks of the right fork are hungry cannibalistic natives with bones in their noses and teeth that have been filed down to points…the points reminding you of the sharp, pointy rocks sticking out of the water. and all the while you are thinking to yourself that you don’t have time to romanticize about how the pointy rocks and the pointy teeth kind of play off each other, that you really need to be focusing on not dying at the moment.

it’s at these types of crossroads that you scream to yourself, “how did i get here?!” and “no back-up plan?! you. are. an. idiot!” and quite often, “you crazy kids get off the lawn!”

so here i am.
soon to be jobless.
wondering if i’ll be able to find a new job.
thinking that maybe i should go back to school.
pondering if i should just take some time off to actually paint.
worrying that i’ll never get another job.
crying that i’ll be a waste of oxygen.
blubbering that i can’t handle the not knowing.
bawling that i’ll never be successful at anything.
cursing my indecisive, whining, fearful self.

but most of all, i can’t help but wonder… have other people been in this situation? have there been others before me? others…who like myself have quit a job and have had no plan? other unprepared, unresuméd, unemployed people…out there…wandering the land and possibly sea?

i wonder if there have been others…lost at sea…the sea of life, love, gainful employment and adventure…out there just floating and wondering if they too, have made the dumbest choice of their god-fearing life.

i wonder if i could find those people and talk to them. find out how they feel. how they get through the day. how they… no!

i don’t want to talk to them! nay! i don’t need to talk to another person like me! i know how they feel! i feel like them! i feel like total shit! i don’t need a boat load of slobbering unemployed, unplanning people like me…feeding me their fears and insecurities! i can do that myself! what i need is someone else. someone stronger. someone with a plan. someone who, in the face of danger, danger such as cannibalistic natives or crumbling rafts or even a danger such as unemployment…

hey! i think i know such a person, such a man shall we say, and i think that deep down you know just who i’m talking about. so now, when i’m down and out, when i’m worried about how i have no money, when i cry out, “lord, save me from the cannibals!” all i have to do is think of 5 letters and breathe a deep sigh of relief. WWTHD?

What Would Thor Heyerdahl Do?

my god, what a blessing!

think of all the practical applications!

what would thor heyerdahl do?
why, jaimie (he’d say) quit feelin’ sorry for yourself! i too had a pointless college degree, geograhpy… i know. i mean, at least your painting degree sounds cool. you just can’t impress the ladies with ‘that’s the canary islands and over there is tanzania and australia is right here’ see? boring. but that didn’t stop me! nay! and it shouldn’t stop you either! ya just gotta make life your own adventure, little jaimie. you’ve just gotta grab life by the balsa wood and fashion a traditional native raft and just… float. also, it helps if you write a successful book about your voyage.

thanks mr. heyerdahl!

well now i have a new outlook and a new philosophy, WWTHD? life is gonna be my adventure. so the next time i get to feeling down, which will probably be next month when it’s time to pay bills, i’m gonna grab up all the gusto i can, and also all the long, flat reeds, and build me a raft and float off to Rapa Nui.

or maybe i’ll just get out my watercolors and actually paint something. no, no wait. i think i’ll go with the floating on a rickety raft in sub-tropical shark infested waters. yeah.
er, been there, doing that.

links!
no one sent any.
so here’s some links about thor heyerdahl

next week’s epitomb: an adventure of some sort

jaimie “WWTHD?” pickle

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Cookie Magoo’s Weekly

Category: weekleez

Cookie Magoo’s Weekly
April 1, 2003

hi kids,

a shout out to all the b’day peeps in da hizzle!
my mad april fools are jimmy, buddy and the famoose ms. megan! happy bizzle homies!
ok no more ‘izzles’, i promise.

so anyway i didn’t write a weekly this week either ‘cos i’m certain you are all tired of me bitching about not getting any. and i certainly don’t want to talk about it either. sugar people, not getting any sugar. i swear your collective minds are in the gutter sometimes. sheesh.
also, derp!

lucky for me and double lucky for you, my good friend cookie magoo wrote a weekly! so all i have to do is introduce it and add some links from WiscWendy and ProfZim at the end and my work for the week is complete and i can get on to bigger and better things like bitching about not getting any.
sex, people, this time i’m talking about sex.

so without furher ado:

Cookie Magoo’s Weekly Adventure FunTime™

I told Jaimie I would write a guest Weekly. I had something happen that was quirky and funny, but I didn’t think it would take up enough room for a Weekly. I sat down and said “I’m going to write this weekly! I’ m going to do it! Today!” But first I read the online classifieds to waste time. I found some ads that I thought were funny, and at first, I was just going to paste the ads at the end of my guest weekly to take up space. But like I said, I don’t have a job, and when I get bored, well… the following is the sort of stuff that happens.

I changed phone numbers to protect the innocent. And if one of these people is a relative or friend of yours, I’m sorry. This isn’t crank yankers so I wasn’t awful, I just you know….needed something to make fun of. It’s JAIMIE’S FAULT.

THE AD: it was already spelled this way.
chicken Litter, fertilizier for your gardren, I will load your pick up $20. Call 442-5555

THE CALL: To see if I could annoy him with my stupidity.
Some guy: Hello?
Cookie: Yes, I’m calling about the chicken litter.
Some guy: Hang on a sec.
Woman: TOMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
Man: <distant> What?
Woman: PHONE! <mumble mumble chicken mumble mumble>

Ok, how many people are involved in the process of me asking about chicken litter? This was my first call, and I was nervous. I started to hang up, but then Tommy answered.

Tommy: Hay-lo?
Cookie: Yeah, I’m calling about your chicken litter ad.
Tommy: Uh-huh
Cookie: Well, you say it would be good for a garden…. could I use it for a FLOWER garden?
Tommy: <sounds annoyed> Well, YEAH, I mean, you could use it for any kinda garden.
Cookie: Ok, well, here’s my problem. I don’t have a pick-up truck.
Tommy: You DON’T? <long pause> Well, could you get one?
Cookie: Could I get one?
Tommy: Yeah, could you borrow one?
Cookie: Could I borrow one?
Tommy: Yeah.
Cookie: Um, I don’t know. I mean, I have a car. Could we, you know…line the trunk?
Tommy: Oh NO NO….you’d ruin a car, yeah.
Cookie: Ohh….I see.
Tommy: Well, if you could borrow a truck.
Cookie: Well, let me see if I can borrow a truck.
Tommy: Ok, CALL ME BACK, now.
Cookie: Ok, I will.

Lies told: 2. I don’t have a flower garden, and my dad has a truck. However, I doubt he’d let me fill it with chicken crap.

Ok, these were two separate ads, and when I called the first time, it was busy, so I went on to the doll ad. That’s when I noticed it was the same phone number.
THE ADS:
Crochet Books 1 by Vanna White, & Redheart, $10 ea. or 2 $15 Call 492-5555

Odd Dolls, all kinds, $10 for all. Clock speaks hour, $5 Call 492-5555

THE CALL: To find out if Vanna White crochets. Also, what exactly “odd dolls” were. Let’s face it, all dolls are odd, what made these stand out?
Nice Lady: Hello?
Cookie: Yes, I’m calling about the ads you have in the paper.
Nice Lady: I’m sorry, you’ll have to speak up.
Cookie: I’M CALLING ABOUT YOUR AD. (I felt so guilty when I found out it was a grandma, but I was already in the moment)
Nice Lady: Yes?
Cookie: Well, I was wondering about that crochet book. That’s by Vanna White, right?
Nice Lady: Yes, ma’am, it’s a nice book. It’s big, and it’s a hardback.
Cookie: Ok, is this the same Vanna White that’s on Wheel of Fortune?
Nice Lady: Yes, ma’am, it sure is.
Cookie: Ok, well, does it have a picture of her on it?
Nice Lady: What?
Cookie: THE BOOK. DOES IT HAVE A PICTURE OF VANNA WHITE ON IT?
Nice Lady: Well, yes, it does. I mean, I guess. It looks like her.

Ok, if it hadn’t have been grandma, I would have argued this point, but I felt too guilty.

Cookie: Ok, see, my grandmother is a HUGE fan of Vanna White, that’s why I’m asking.
Nice Lady: Oh, ha ha…well, it’s her. And it’s JUST afghans that she does in this one. I’ve got some quilting patterns, too. But this book is only afghans.
Cookie: Ok, well, that’s what she crochets.
Nice Lady: What?
Cookie: THAT’S WHAT MY GRANDMA CROCHETS, AFGHANS. I’M GOING TO CALL HER TO SEE IF SHE’D WANT IT. ALSO…WHAT ABOUT THE ODD DOLLS?
Nice Lady: Oh, I’ve sold all of those dolls.
Cookie: Ok, well, thank you, ma’am
Nice Lady: Ok, hon, your welcome.

Lies told: 3. I don’t have a grandma. When I did, she didn’t crochet afghans, and she wasn’t a huge fan of Vanna White.

THE AD:
PROM DRESS – Mori Lee, size 12, burgundy w/wrap, never worn, $95. 492-5555
The CALL: To see why the dress was never worn
Ok, my first call wouldn’t go through because they had a privacy blocker. I had to let my name be shown on the caller ID. When I did call again, it rang several times. Also, I don’t know much about fabric, but I kept asking questions to see if she’d offer up the information about why no one wore the dress. That’s why I sound like an idiot.

Woman: Hello?
Cookie: Yes, I’m calling about the prom dress?
Woman: Ohhh….yesssss. Ok! <to someone else> She’s calling about the PROM DRESS. Ok, well, I here she is, she’s got a cold, so I hope you can hear her.
Cookie: Ok.
Sneezy: Hello?
Cookie: Yes ma’am, I’m calling about the prom dress for a friend of mine.
Sneezy: Uh-huh.
Cookie: Well, I was wondering, what does it look like? I mean it says it has a wrap, but does it have….. sequins?
Sneezy: Oh……the burgundy one?
Cookie: Yes
Sneezy: Oh, well, it’s got velvet at the top, and then it’s satin at the bottom.
Cookie: Ok. And it was NEVER worn?
Sneezy: No, it never was.
Cookie: Ok, well. Does the fabric have any sort of um…..shine to it, like that metallic shimmer-y…….um…..fabric?
Sneezy: Well, no. The bustline does have a design on it, at the velvet.
Cookie: Oh, ok! So it’s not just really plain then?
Sneezy: Oh no, it’s real pretty.
Cookie: Oh, well, good then. That’s good.
<pause>
Cookie: Um……can I ask why it was never worn?
Sneezy: Well, I bought it for my grand daughter, and stuff came up, and she just wasn’t well and couldn’t go.
Cookie: Oh, ok. Well, I’m looking for a friend of mine, she lives in Birmingham but we thought she might get a better price down here. I’ll talk to her about it.
Sneezy: Well, whoever buys it will sure get a good deal. I paid $285 for it, and she never got to wear it.
Cookie: WOW! That is a good deal. Thank you, and I hope you feel better.
Sneezy: Oh. Well, thank you. Bye-bye.

Lies told: 1. I don’t have a friend that needs a prom dress. I thought it was weird that they were so relieved that I was calling about a prom dress. And then she wasn’t even sure what prom dress I was talking about. I bet she has some underground prom dress cartel.

THE AD:
MANS POTTY CHAIR, $20. CALL 492-5555

THE CALL: To find out what exactly a man’s potty chair was.
Woman: Hello?
Cookie: Yes ma’am, I’m calling about the potty chair.
Woman: Yes.
Cookie: Ok, I’m calling for my husband’s grandmother. Your ad says it’s a man’s potty chair. What’s the difference between a man’s potty chair and a woman’s potty chair?
Woman: Well, a man’s chair is higher.
Cookie: Really? Hmmm. Is this one of those seats that sits on the toilet?
Woman: Oh no, it has wheels and sides, and it sits like a chair, and the potty is under it.
Cookie: Ok, does it sit over the toilet?
Woman: No, it’s got it’s own bowl potty.
Cookie: <sounding disappointed> Oh, ok. Thank you, then.
Woman: You’re welcome.

Lies told: None. Alex’s grandma might someday need a potty chair. It’s possible!

yeah cookie. whatever helps you sleep at night, sistah!
isn’t cookie creative? she called strangers to get a weekly. genius! and here i’ve been complaining about how hard it is to come up with a weekly and she just makes it happen!
that’s why we love her!

thanks be to cookie for writing the weekly this week!

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The One About Sugar II

Category: weekleez

The One About Sugar II
March 11, 2003

hi kids,

first! tina sewell gave me a norah jones CD ‘cos we talked about that on the message board that only 6 of you frequent. she gets a spy name! tina, your spy name is…
Sugarlips Muldoon and you plan the tea parties!

well, let me tell ya, this sugar thing is like, only the most fun ever. i totally recommend that everyone go on a low-sugar diet. it’s more fun than a young republican convention. heh. really.

i thought that since lent is supposed to be a time of spiritual whatnot, that i should perhaps keep a journal of each day to record the things i learn throughout this spiritual time, this sugar-less time, this god-forsaken lenten journey from hell. and if you really believe i have a journal then i suggest that you start reading the other weeklies in chronological order and then ask yourself, “isn’t jaimie a lazy slob who could never be bothered to update a journal once a week much less once a day?” yes, yes i am.

that being said i’ve decided to share with you some of the private entries of my lenten journey journal. journey journal? derp!

Wednesday, March 5
8:00am
well, here i am at work. busy busy!
10:30am
time for a sugar-less snack! and i think i’ll look up some stuff on the internet about sugar substitutes like nutra-sweet, aspartame, and splenda. maybe i could do a weekly on artificial sweeteners. gosh, i’m always thinking!
2:00pm
i haven’t had a soda all day. aren’t you supposed to get headaches or something from not having caffiene or sugar or something? oh well, no headaches for jaimie! booyeah! how about some more water? mmm mmmmm!
6:00pm
hmmm no dessert after dinner tonight. oh well! it’s not really a big deal. i was pretty full from dinner. i didn’t need any pie or anything sweet like that anyway! this no sweets thing is like, no problem!

Thursday, March 6
9:00am
oy, woke up with a headache today. sheesh.
9:05am
still have a headache.
2:00pm
oy, that info on the fake sweeteners is really creepy. it seems like they’re all toxic. i mean, they all give lab rats cancer and splenda produces formaldehyde in the brain. heh, sugar doesn’t seem so bad anymore. is that irony? i’m not sure, damn headache.
5:00pm
not hungry. manheim steamroller playing in my head.

Friday, March 7
8:00am
headache isn’t so bad today.
10:08am
well 2 days and no sugar. this is a snap! heh, i wonder if i’ll get DTs and hallucinations like people coming off drugs and alcohol? nah, sugar isn’t like that i don’t think.
2:20pm
if kelly offers me another oatmeal cookie i’m gonna shove the rest of them so far up her oh heck here she comes look busy…
4:43pm
while driving home the guy in the red car three cars up from me was drinking a dr pepper. i could smell it.

Saturday, March 8
6:05am
what the heck am i doing up at six in the morning?
9:00am
i guess i’ll have my coffee black this morning. oh well, it’s not the end of the world.
2:40pm
i don’t feel so good. i think maybe i shouldn’t have had the coffee. my hhandss are shhakking…
7:00pm
ii think i’m ssick.. ffeel ccold. ffeevery. ssso sickk. mommy…

Sunday, March 9
8:23am
oh had a terrible dream about sugar plum fairies. i think they were dancing or something. terrible nightmare.
12:45pm
sugar plum fairies weren’t a dream. they’ve been following me all morning. saw three of them at church. sneaky bastards.
3:18pm
sugar plum fairies are everywhere! they dance. they fly. they crap all over… filthy creatures. i caught one in the kitchen. the damn thing bit me so i threw it in the freezer. it stopped singing about an hour ago, but i know that it’s just trying to trick me! we hates them!
5:30pm
my hand is swollen from where that foul sugar beast bit me. who knew those things would bite so hard? i think it must have some kind of venom in it’s teeth…like a…a…barracuda or a playpus or something.
9:00pm
i should be sleeping right now ‘cos i have work in the morning. but there’s something under the bed. i can hear it breathing. i think it’s humming a song! it better not be one of those shoe-making elves.

Monday, March 10
8:00am
no time for breakfast today.
10:30am
time for a snack! sugar-free blueberry yogurt. i think instead of sugar they use rolaids to flavor it. also i keep hearing singing. it’s very faint but at times i almost swear i’m hearing something sing old stephen foster songs. i think it’s the canister of oreos. oh what am i saying? it’s the jar of mints, of course!
3:30pm
wish i had a sugar sandwich.

Tuesday, March 11
10:00am
there’s that singing again! i threw the mints under the counter. i guess the mints were the tenors, this time it sound more like a chorus of castrati. no wait, that’s the mints.
12:00pm
lunch time! what did i pack for lunch today? yogurt and pickles. god, what was i thinking?
12:15pm
i wonder what the weekly is going to be about this week? well, one thing’s for sure, if those damn mints don’t shut up i’m going to drown them in kelly’s diet coke.
12:16pm
take that, mints!
2:30pm
i called laura at work and told her that there was a cadbury egg at the grocery store that keeps on screaming my name. i can hear it from work and inside my car. she hung up on me. i hate her.
2:33pm
called laura again. i told her about the mints and that i think sugar plum fairies are poisonous and that camptown races is stuck in my head and that boy is kelly going to be surprised when she drinks her soda! laura said that i should get back to work but i told her that if she didn’t buy that cadbury egg, the one that keeps screaming, and smash it into the ground with the heel of her black boots that she doesn’t really love me. she hung up. well, when she finds singing mints in her mt dew maybe next time she’ll listen!
4:58pm
thought about cooking dinner this evening. but all we have is macaroni, lima beans and there’s a frozen clump of something in the freezer but i’m not sure what it is…i’ll have to ask laura about that later.
6:30pm
weekly weekly weekly!
9:30pm
it took me three hours to make up seven lousy journal entries?! i must be slipping.

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The One About Sugar

Category: weekleez

The One About Sugar
March 5, 2003

hi kids,

several weeks ago i was sitting around trying to figure out when spring break was and then i was curious about what day easter was going to fall on (les and mere’s b’day it turns out) and then i thought about lent. lent seems like a heavy word doesn’t it? it’s like onomatopoeia, it’s the sound one of those giant catholic bibles makes when you drop it.

every year for lent i say that i’m going to give up cussing. and you would think i could hold my foul mouth in check for 40 days, wouldn’t you? heh.

but the thing is, for me, not swearing just isn’t practical. i guess it might have something to do with the fact that i don’t have a problem with swear words and so giving it up for lent would be kind of like giving up chewing gum. i only chew gum on tuesdays and thursdays. chewing gum is really not a big deal.

incidentally, don suggested that i give up giving up swear words for lent for lent. heh, i called him smartass.

so anyway i was talking to some friends and one of them, and her name is debbie, said that every year she gives up sugar for lent. well i thought that that really sucked and i told her so i said, “holy cow, that must suck.” and she said that yeah it’s tough but really it’s heatlhy and yadda yadda yadda.
i thought to myself, “self, you could never do that. so don’t you even think it.”

y’know, i should know myself better than that by now. i think that everytime i have told myself that i’ll never do X, that the very next week the oppotunity to do X somehow arises and i always always end up doing X. i’ll just tell you how horrible it is, the last time this happened i said, “feh. i’d never buy a kylie minogue album.”
i know.

so i began to really consider giving up sugar for lent and in about .4 seconds i decided i’d give up all sugar for lent, an absolute no sugar diet. i figured i should go whole hog.

the first thing i did was call laura and told her that i was going to go on a no sugar diet for lent. she said, “you mean a low sugar diet?” i said that nah, i’m just not gonna have any sugar at all, it’s only for 40 days i think i can manage. and she said, “jaimie. hon. that’s impossible. everything has sugar in it.” i said, “whatever.”

so then i thought that i’d better read something about no sugar diets to see what i can eat. well it turns out that laura was right. everything that is edible (except maybe shampoo) has sugar in it, mostly. i should also mention that laura does not own a kylie minogue CD. so feel free to ask her questions about anything because it’s obvious that she has more sense than someone like let’s say for instance, me.

so i read tons of stuff and did you guys know that sugar is like, evil? yeah i know. apparently it’s like more addictive than caffiene and oreos combined. or something. it’s really like a drug! but that doesn’t really bother me.

i also read that we, as in the western world, which i’m not entirely sure what all that entails but i think it means everyone who does not have a violent dictator in charge of thier country, did not even have sugar until the 1500s or something like that. we had honey, but not the precious, precious sugar cane. but that’s not what’s bothering me.

so then of course, we had to have african slaves to you know, mine the sugar or whatever it is they do to get sugar. and of course that went on for years. and so we’ve used slave labor to get us where we are today and that’s a nation hooked on sugar! but that doesn’t really bother me.

we are a fatty nation, hooked on sugar, eating “low-fat” foods which are low in fat but more importantly high in sugar and so we starve ourselves eating this low-fat shempfood that tastes like flavorless cat yuck, meanwhile obesity is still on the rise and see what happens when you spend the day on the internet looking up the evils of sugar?
oy, but that’s not what’s bothering me.

i also read (and i really wish i had printed all this stuff out the other day so that i could give you all these great links about sugar but i’m just not that organized and you should expect that from someone who owns a kylie minogue CD) that if sugar had been invented say, 5 years ago, that the FDA or USDA or OSHA or WHOEVER would not approve it because it’s just not good for ya and it’s so darn addictive. i find that very interesting, but that doesn’t really bother me.

what really bothered me about all this was that while i was reading up on being down with sugar, i found out that there is a sugar lobby. ugh. i hate finding out stuff like that. i mean, i think i’ve always known that milk is a huge scam. deep down in the cockles of my cold, cold heart i’ve always had a mistrust for milk. milk lies. and i know, i just know that if something as “wholesome” as milk could lie to me, then fer sure sugar has been lying about everything it’s ever done from merely sweetening my coffee to making oreos the best thing in the world to possibly cheating on me (sugar and i have been together for 25 years and as i read those articles i think that sugar has been with other people, lots of other people) as it is now to be assumed that sugar is a crackwhore.

now, if there’s one thing i need less of in my life right now it’s crackwhores. so i might as well start with the sugar.

ok, so i might happen to own a kylie minogue CD, but i’m not a total shemp, and so in thinking all this sugar filth through i decided that me going without a bag of peanut m&ms for 40 days would probably be an eye-clawing experience so i have to admit the last three weeks in february i cut way back on my sugar intake. so maybe i’ll actually make it 40 days.

thing is, today being fat tuesday (phat tuesday, yo!) i should be glomming as many sweets as i can, but i just don’t want to. i haven’t craved sugary things in several days. lucky for me, i’m a kylie minogue CD owning idiot and there was this container of oreos at work and i think i ate about 14 of them. not because i wanted them, nay, but because i thought, “hey, i’m gonna have an oreo! i haven’t had an oreo in a long time and it’s fat tuesday, i’m eating it and no one can stop me!” it was the best thing i’ve ever put in my mouth. it crunched. it was sweet. it was chocolate. it was double stuff.
i crammed two more in my mouth and sighed. then the phone rang. “keffy simes” *crunch mumble cough*

then on the way home i stopped and bought a pepsi as a last fat tuesday hurrah. but i haven’t been drinking sodas much lately in fact i hadn’t had a pepsi in weeks. well, about 20 minutes ago the oreos and pepsi kicked in, if you know what i mean. sugar, i hate you.

now i’m not even going to pretend that i know what the deal is on giving up stuff for lent. i just figure that giving up something that’s not good for me anyway for 40 days can’t be a bad thing. and i figure that if i use my sweet-cravings as a way to remind me to check in with the big guy, which is something like 4 or 5 or 46,000 times a day that i’m thinking about beowulf or those cheap sugar-wafer cookies, i mean, harnessing that power for good instead of crackwhore-sugar evil can’t be a bad thing.

anyway, i’ll keep you posted.

this weekly would have been more complete had the Godfather not been on. of course, it would have been even more, more complete if after watching the Godfather, the Godfather part II had not come on. i could no more change the channel than i could stop myself from buying that damn kylie minogue CD.

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The One About Swearing at God

Category: weekleez

a brief essay
february 25,2003

i swear to god, actually, lately i’ve been swearing at god, which seems like a dangerous thing to do doesn’t it? i mean, he’s this supreme, omnipotent being. and when you order something at flaco-flell and you get it supreme that means it comes with sour cream on it. so i sometimes picture god like a gary larson cartoon, a giant old man with flowing white hair and beard…made of sour cream. well, it makes it easier to swear at him anyway.

see, some people would never use swear words when they talk to god. but these same people insist that a “relationship with god” is the most important thing in the world. now, if these people don’t use swear words in their “regular life” then that’s one thing, i mean, of course they would never swear when talking/praying to the almighty, sour cream laden lord, they don’t even swear when some assjack cuts them off in traffic. i respect those people, but at the same time they make me nervous, like in that movie the stepford wives. so now i’m picturing these perfect robo-christians praying their perfect prayers humming their favorite hymn while they bake bars for the upcoming potluck and they make extra to send over to the shut-in and when they hear that something awful has happened to someone they say, “bless their heart”. and they do this everyday and maybe that’s what they mean by a relationship with god. they aren’t bad people, they just scare the hell outta me.

lucky for me i’m a Horrible Christian™.

i pray to god like i’m talking to someone who is around me all the time. and the people who are around me all the time know that i have a foul mouth and sometimes a bad attitude. why on earth would i hide that from god? he’s everywhere right? he sees me when i slam down the phone and yell a string of expletives at some moron who of course can’t hear me yell at them but i gotta get that anger out somehow. he sees me when my toilet chain snaps for the nth time and i splash around in the toilet tank cursing, swearing and damning every piece of cheap toilet gut in there. he sees me when i try to take the whole world on my shoulders thinking that i’m doing the right thing meanwhile i’m actually failing every step of the way and if only i’d ask for help i’d get help but no i’m a stubborn idiot and think that i can handle it but actually i’m just barely treading water and cursing like a sailor.

so that’s my relationship with god. it’s not rock solid by any means, but it’s honest. i mean i’ve actually prayed, “god, just…just get the hell away from me. leave me alone. you suck. amen” and i wonder where he is at times? heh. i’m an idiot.

see, i’m a Horrible Christian™. how dare i?
there’s these people out there, believers, and they are so rooted in their faith that horrible things happen to them and the ones they love, and they grin and bear it, and probably the first thing they do is pray about it.
that’s amazing.
i’d like to do that.

i mean, these people look back in the sand, see one set of footprints and say, “thanks god.” i look back and see one set of footprints and think hey, wow! is this what it’s like when god carri…wait a minute…size 7 nikes? what the? and hey where the hell am i anyway? god? *sigh* i hate the beach. shit.

i’ve been told all my life that god loves me more than anyone else can love me. he loves me when i’m bad and he loves me when i’m good and he loves me whether i’m red and yellow, black or white. yes, jesus loves me.
and somewhere in the mere pittance of my 1/32 mustard seed-sized faith, i actually believe that. i wish i believed it more. on some days when the weather is pretty and the sky is blue and the window is rolled down and i’m driving to anywhere…it’s easy to see god’s love. when it’s pouring rain and you hafta take off your socks and shoes and roll up your pants and splish-splash your way to your jeep, eh, sometimes you don’t see god’s love. but they tell me it’s there. so i believe it. mostly.

but sometimes it’s like c’mon god, throw me a bone. can’t you just see this brontosaurus-size bone flipping out of the sky and clobbering me?

like try this whole month.
february has been trying it’s hardest to kill me. sometimes i wish it would just try a little harder so we could get it over with. but see, february knows that, so it only beats me within an inch, y’know? jerk.
someone once told me that how ever weak we are that god is that much more stronger. the sarcasta-bitch side of me thinks big damn deal god’s stronger than me, what’s new? the lost soul in me goes something like this: *blink blink* that’s nice. i’m hungry. *blink*. now my sub-par relationship with god side of me says, “hey god, listen. they tell me that your really strong y’know? now see, i’m not very strong right now, er, ever. so if you could um, y’know, please if you could i dunno, spread the wealth or something? when you’re not busy of course. when you get a chance. if you want to. i’ll be over here…the one in the fetal position? yeah. that’s me. so anyway… have a nice day, sir. amen.” pathetic i know.

Horrible Christian™

so yeah i want a relationship with god. i want to turn to the big galoot when everything goes bad and i need someone to pick me up and carry me over the flaming, glass shards and rusty nails of life. i want to believe that every moment of every day god is looking down on me and shooting happy heart-shaped love beams at me. but more than believing it, i want to feel it. i want to feel one of god’s smiles…one of the ones that he’s smiling for me. i want to keep it in a jar, so that the next time i totally screw up i can pull it out and say, “yeah, but at least back in ’88 i made god smile.” or something like that.

but what i don’t want to become (and i hardly think it’s even possible) is one of those stepford christians going around telling people that god loves them god loves them god loves them. oh, your wife died in a tragic blimp accident during the superbowl? god loves you! oh, your best friend overdosed on the cocaine? god loves you! let’s pray! a loved one terminally ill? god. loves. you. hugs!

i know those folks are genuine and mean well, but yikes.
you could tell me all day long that god loves me and i’ll never believe you. never.

the other evening i was driving over to jimmy’s house and i had to stop for gas and i pumped the gas and bitched because the clasp thingy that you push down to make the gas pump without having to hold the handle so you don’t get Stinky Gas Hand wasn’t there and of course i bitched about the gas prices and that i had to put 22 bucks in the tank and i still had about a quarter of a tank left and sheesh jimmy’s so sick i wish he felt better i’ve never seen him this sick before shit i just pumped $22.02 it just figures doesn’t it?

and i went and saw jimmy and i prayed for him ‘cos he looked so sick. and it was actually a good prayer. but then towards the end i got really mad and yelled at god a bit and gave him a piece of my mind, god, you old so and so, why don’t you do something useful for a change? you are just so lame sometimes. sorry. amen.

so anyway i left jimmy’s house and as i was walking to my car my stomach went ACK! for there was a slap in the face for me as i saw my gas cap door thingy open. son of a… i can’t believe i didn’t put the gas cap back on. i never do stupid stuff like that! dad’s gonna think i’m an idiot, hell i am an idiot. what is wrong with me oh hell what a damn month this has been christ almi…

waitaminute.and as i got closer i saw that the gas cap was still sitting in the slot on the door thingy. i had to drive down 7 miles of bumpy country road to get there. there’s no way that cap could be there. heck, i went over railroad tracks! but there it was.
what a simple thing. but really it was huge.
so i looked up at the night sky, full of a million stars, and said “wow, thank you, god. that was really, really nice.”

and i’d like to think that the big guy smiled at me. one of those where one of his sour cream eye brows would raise up and with a bemused smile he would tassel my hair and say, “*sigh* jaimie, what am i going to do with you?”

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The One About the Sopranos

Category: weekleez

The One About the F*&#!ng Soprahnos, you stupid F*#@!
February 18, 2003

‘allo cheeldreen!

when i was but a wee fleegan i wasn’t allowed to watch just anything on television. well, actually my parents weren’t that strict about the TV. in fact, i think that it was more like if what was on television wasn’t cartoons or sesame street i didn’t want to watch it. now movies were completely different. my brother and i were not allowed to watch certain movies when they first came out. the two movies i specifically remember not being able to watch were Ghostbusters and Dirty Dancing. i’m not sure if they were trying to keep our young minds from seeing scary and/or nasty sexy dancing, or if they were just trying to keep us from seeing pisspoor movies.

the only “good thing” about Dirty Dancing is that i now have the quote “nobody puts Baby in a corner” at my disposal. see how i could live with out that?

i mean it wasn’t til last year that i was watching Ghostbusters (not for the first time, but probably for the last time. what a stupid movie.) and laura said something about the gatekeeper/keymaster thing being a sexual metaphor and jimmy agreed and they chuckled and i said, “what? sexual?” and they were all, “yeah, you know, gate keeper key master? get it?” and my response was something like, *blink blink* “was gozer the gatekeeper or the keymaster?” sometimes i’m a lost cause. but hey, nobody puts Baby in a corner.

anyway, i think my parents did a good job of raising us pickle kids. i wasn’t allowed to watch just anything but i was allowed to watch monty python’s flying circus and really, what else is there? and now that my brother and i are old enough to purchase adult movies on the internet, we don’t, well, justin might, but i don’t, the point is we’re old enough to watch whatever we want and usually it turns out to be something completely harmless like a Jackie Chan movie or a Zucker Brothers movie or a Cohen Brothers movie or In the Mouth of Madness or a blacksploitation flick or anything with pirates in it. well, that’s what i watch anyway, justin has a film class at school so he has to watch a plethora of movies most of them classics and most of them i’ve seen via my childhood and TNT. i was and still am a sucker for an MGM musical.

now, i believe i’ve mentioned my “obsession” with beowulf before. i don’t know why beowulf is always in my head. hrothgar is always on the tip my tongue, as is meadhall. and i found out that i’m not the only one! wisconsin wendy admitted to being one or three thoughts away from beowulf as well.

lately, the lord of the flies has been rattling around my noggin. i didn’t really like that book at the time i was forced to read it in 7th grade but lately it’s all been coming back to me and i really wish it wasn’t in there because i don’t think any of my other friends have read it and so when i make a crack about say, a pig head staked in the jungle and/or a conch shell, they don’t laugh, in fact they get that concerned look on their faces. but it’s not like they can put Baby in a corner or anything.

another thing that was always incredibly interesting to me was the mafia and i used to watch all the movies and read all the books about it and the best movie in the world is Goodfellas and my father and i quote from it often. and by often i mean every third sentence out of our mouth is a quote from that movie much to the chagrin of my mother who just sighs.

so now HBO (which stands for Aych Bee Oh!) has this show called Sopranos and it’s all about this mafia family in New Jersey. So mom and dad rented a few epitombs and they were hooked. that’s all they talked about last year. i decided i didn’t want to watch the show ‘cos i didn’t need anything else to get hooked on. i quite enjoy my quiet nerdy reading time and i knew the Sopranos would probably take away from that. well, then i went and rented the whole first season of 24 and i’m sure you remember what happened there. so i knew that the Soprahnos would be no different so i still kept away from those boxes at the video store.

then dad had to go and borrow the whole first 2 seasons from a friend of his. so there they were…just sitting there…ready to be watched…so i grabbed them and watched the first season which, lucky for me only had 13 epitombs and not 24 like that show called 24. surprisingly, i did not like the Sopranos. there’s too much violence and boobs for my taste. i mean, really, i think every epitomb starts with a chick and her boobs. i found the show to be very interesting though, i mean, it’s not just about the mafia, it’s about a guy who runs a crime family and his own family and he goes to therapy and then there’s all these other wacky characters and they all interact and it’s really interesting. but still there’s a huge ick factor of this guy who has a mistress and yet goes home and sleeps with his wife every night and also lots of boobs. and that priest guy always kinda grossed me out too.

the thing is, my parents love this show. even my mom loves it. and mom hated Goodfellas. and i’m not even sure she’s ever watched the Godfather (I, II, or III). the mafia is just not her thing, but the Sopranos is. i don’t get that but i’m glad that there’s something out there that mom and dad can watch together and then get to talk about afterwards.

now i’m not one to judge on what people say or what they watch. i watch some pathetic things and i’ll admit i love swearing. i’ve often wanted to write a weekly on curse words. i love them. i use them. the more the merrier. of course i have standards too. there are certain words that i simply will not use. and i try not to use them in the weekly too often because some people think that using swear words to be funny is a crutch. f*&!ng morons, what do they know? heh. yeah, like putting Baby in the corner is an option.

but lately i’ve noticed that my mom and dad’s vocabulary has changed. and i think it’s because of the Sopranos. things like **** sucker and mother ****** have become commonplace. and if it’s not MF this and **** *** **** that, it’s **** you and *** **** mother ******. and on really extreme days it’s **** you **** *** son of a ***** mother **** **** sucker mother ****** *** hole. heh. this is too much fun. and on really good days it’s **** you you son of a ***** piece of **** mother ****** nancy boy mother ****** beeatch *** hole rat ******* whore piece of **** mother father pissant crap *** **** ****! **** ***** ***** **** ****. *** **** ***** **** ***!

it’s enough to make a sailor blush.
i just think it’s kinda funny that the tables have turned and now it’s me whose saying, “i don’t think you guys should be watching that filth. there’s too much sex, violence and swearing on that show. and why they feel the need to open every scene with boobies is beyond me.” to which my loving parents reply with in their newly developed joisey accents, “why you gotta bust our ***** about our ****** show? **** *** you ****** ****!” heh. to which i reply in my newly affected joisey accent, “whaaaat? i just aks you a question and you’s gets all defensive? whaaat?”

anyway. i hate TV.

on an unrelated note, hopefully to distract mom and dad from the above paragraphs, you know that song simply irresistible by robert palmer? so that song is about a gorgeous high maintenence chick, right? so why the sword ‘shings’ in the song? i mean, there’s nothing in that song to warrant shinging swords. there’s no mention of swords, sabers, simitars, swashbucklers, ninjas or pirates. what was he thinking?

robert palmer: listen mate, i think dis song is missin’ somefin.
producer: yeah rob? whatsit missin’?
rp: dinno mate, what you think about a gun shot?
p: i dinna think ya need gunfire in the song rob. how ’bout a sword shing y’know?
rp: a sword shing? like in robin hood or somefin?
p: nah rob, robin hood used a bow n’ arra.
rp: oh yeah well how’s ’bout the twack of an arra?
p: nah rob, the sword shing’s much more sexy.
rp: yeah i see your point, ah go for it…no one puts Baby in a cornah.
p: too right!

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The One About Some Essential Motown

Category: weekleez

The One About Essential Motown
February 11, 2003

hey kids! it’s weekly time once again! so gather ’round here and listen to auntie jaimie weave a tall tale about how paul bunyan beat the crap out of john henry using a pair of nunchucks he made out of johnny appleseed’s dry, dry bones.
talk about family fun!

so i used to read a guitar magazine before the internet was invented. now of course i don’t have to read it anymore ‘cos anything you want to know about guitar stuff is on the internet. in this magazine every month they would interview some guitar player and basically ask him (yes, him. there’s no chicks in guitar magazines. ever.) to name his favorite/most inspirational/can’t live without songs that he would put on a CD or whatever.

i’ve seen that particular interview in other magazines too. it’s basically asking someone famous what kind of music they listen too, right? it’s like, “hey, you’re in a band…what kind of music do you listen to? is it the same kind of music you play? well, what is it then? tell us! inquiring nosy-assed minds want to know! give us something! please?!” and quite often i’ve seen where the question is something to the effect of, “ok, so you’re stranded on a deserted island…what songs…if you could have a CD with anything on it…would you take with you?”

i hate that question. i hate all questions that start out with, “say you’re stranded on a deserted island…” ‘cos it doesn’t matter what comes after that, you’re going to be limited and i just can’t stand the thought of:

A. being stranded on an island
2. having to think of what i would want to live with or without for the rest of my life
D. worrying about fresh water for drinking
%. how am i gonna catch/dress/cook wild food?
5. i need toilet paper. lots of toilet paper.

i just want to shake the interviewer and say,”what are you talking about man!? i’m stranded on an island and you think i’m gonna be worrying about not having any good tunes to listen to?! i can’t eat or drink music, can i? i can’t shave my legs with music, can i? i can’t fashion a crude spear for hunting wild boar with music, can i? so listen, chucklehead, why don’t you just ask the question that you really mean so’s that i don’t have to have an anxiety attack thinking about how i’m gonna die on a deserted island and how later, explorers will find my bones clutching a CD and have them wonder, of all things she takes with her to a deserted island she brings a CD? what a dumbass. she didn’t even have any batteries. stupid american.“

conversely, if i was stuck on an island i would want it to be Ray Harryhausen’s Mysterious Island. at least that way i know my time on the island would be very short and my last thoughts would possibly be, “my god, that’s a big chicken.” BAWK!

so let’s just say someone did ask me what songs i’d take with me on an island of strandation i would have to say, after beating their head in with a large stone, that i could never just pick one CD of mixed tunes to take. i would explain to them what an unfair question that is and that i’ll see them in hell.

so the only way that i could sleep at night is if the question is changed and i get to pick a CD’s worth of songs from each genre of music and take those with me along with lots of batteries and an indestructible waterproof CD player. oh, and lots of oatmeal. and deodorant and hair gel.
so what are the basic genres of music, you ask? here they are in no particular order other than i saved motown for last.

10. classic rock
9. hard rock metal (this should actually just be metallica but i need a place to put ozzy and this should cover it)
8. showtunes
7. hendrix
6. sha, like there would be a number six? you think i’d forget?
5.old school country
4.chick tunes
3.blues
2. aaron copland, yes he’s a genre.
1. the all important, most blessed, love it love it love it motown

right, so the question burning on everyone’s mind at this point is, “jaime! what would be on your essential motown CD?! tell us tell us! we’re sick and we like to know things like this! feed our disease! do it! do it!” heh, or something. it acually doesn’t matter if you’re wondering that at all, ‘cos that’s what the weekly is about, jaimie’s favorite motown songs. all that crap about being asked about the island thing was just intro-filler chunder so’s that i could make it seem very important to pick out my favorite songs. suckers!

the great thing about being stuck on a deserted island with a CD filled with motown songs is that most motown songs are only 2 and a half minutes long. you can fit 30 songs on a CD! motown is so practical! also, before i divulge my list of motown songs i must admit that i’m not counting motown as just those signed to the motown label, but any black singers especially those with a horn section. that may be a skewed view of what motown is, but hey that’s me! i like to take something holy and sacred, like motown or nancy drew, and fit it into what i think it should be. works for me!

K-Tel Presents: Jaimie’s Essential Motown

the first 5 minutes of the CD would of course be filled with the almighty Diana “diva hair” Ross and the Supremes. the tough part is picking just two of their many perfect songs. you can pick whatever two you like.
1. Love is Like an Itchin’ in my Heart
2. Love Light Starts Shining in His Eyes

next 5: ya gotta have Smokey Robinson. you. just. have. to.
3. Tears of a Clown
4. Mickey’s Monkey – this is my favorite song. i don’t know why.

the next five minutes would be the Four Tops
5. Standing in the Shadows of Love
7. Bernadette – that song is just so urgent! i don’t know what it is about but the guy singing it is just so into it. i love that.

Temptations
8. Papa was a Rollin’ Stone – c’mon, anything with wkkachkka wkkachkka guitar is gold!
9. Ain’t too Proud to Beg – i just like the way the guy sings the first line of that song. “i know you wanna leave me!”

Hugh Masekela
10. Grazin’ in the Grass – this song might not be strict motown, but it’s a black dude with a trumpet. this song is perfect and i’ll tell you why, two words: cow bell.

11. Gladys Knight and the Pips – Midnight Train to Georgia – ok wait, this is my favorite song ever. Mickey’s Monkey comes in second.

Bill Withers
12. Use Me or you can substitute Lean on Me. wait. no you can’t, that’s too cliche’ it’s gotta be Use Me.

that’s the first 35 minutes! look at all that great stuff! but the next 25 mintues is the best part. it’s the soul train funky stuff. because let’s face it, you’re stuck on a deserted island. what else is there but dancing?

12. James Brown – Sex Machine
13. Freda Payne– Band of Gold – how much fun is this song?!
14. Isley Brothers – It’s Your Thing

Ike and Tina
15. Proud Mary
16. Take You Higher – i like the “boom aka lakas”

17. Tower of Power – What is Hip?

ah, sweet motown.
but wait! what if i’ve got an 80 minute CD? well, heck there’s 20 more minutes! so cram these on there somewhere!

18. Otis Redding – Sittin’ on the Dock…
19. Aretha Franklin – I Say a Little Prayer
20. Clarence Carter – Patches – a sad song true, but for some reason i’ve always liked it.
21. Marvin Gaye – Sexual Healing
22. anything by the Commodores or Ohio Players.

*sigh* who am i kidding? there’s too many great songs to just make one Motown CD.
and truth be told, i’d rather be stranded on a desert island than have to come up with a CD full of great songs. huh.

next week’s epitomb: my parents and The Sopranos: suddenly their vocabulary changed. and when did mom get a jersey accent?

jaimie “no kidding. Mickey’s Monkey. best song ever.” pickle

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The One About Being Hit on by Chicks

Category: weekleez


laura this graphique is perfect!

a mild warning to sensitive readers:
this week’s epitomb touches upon a very delicate topic. some of you may not want to read it. some of you may be offended by it. and some of you may come looking for me to beat the crap outta me. and if you’re one of the ones that hunts me down so you can beat me up all’s i ask is that you don’t punch me in the throat or face. oh, and don’t worry, i won’t fight back. i’m a despicable coward. i will lay there like a sack of wet flour, oozing and praying that you think i’m dead… which is how you’re supposed to act when a bear attacks you. if people survive bear attacks this way then i’m certain that i’ll survive a beating by a bunch of gays like you. *snicker*  

The One About Being Hit on by Chicks
January 28, 2003

hi kids,

so i missed a week. maybe you noticed. i had nothing to write about. nothing. it was sad. what is sadder still is that i don’t have anything for this week either. unless of course you want to hear some of the stories about lesbians hitting on me! and hey, who doesn’t want to read about that?!
well, besides me anyway.

first, i’d like to say that i am often the butt of god’s jokes. i know this. i accept it. and i’m beginning to be able to laugh along with the big guy when i find myself in strange yet hilarious situations. the only thing i get tired of is that i’m always alone when crazy things happen to me. there’s no one there for me to turn to and say, “see?! see what i have to put up with?! this stuff happens to me all the time!”

like the one about gas station attendents. no one is ever there when that crazy hag talks to me. why, just the other day i went in and there she was in all her vacant-minded glory. and before i went to pay for my gas i thought about going out and getting my dad (who was waiting in the car) to have him come in and hear whatever stupid thing i was certain was going to come out of her random mouth. but no, i left dad in the car and paid my for my gas and as she was handing me back my change she said, “I’m sleepy. I’m lazy. I’m sorry.” and then started laughing.

*sigh* what the hell do i say to that?

and i know you’re thinking, “jaimie, why do you keep going to that gas station? you’re begging for it!”

first of all, i avoid that place like the plague! it’s only rarely that i find myself at those pumps. it. just. happens. okay?!
and secondly, what do you mean i’m begging for it? jerk hole!

anyway, on with the gay weekly. i asked laura if she thought that this weekly might be offensive. she said it wasn’t gay enough. so we’ll see.

and now… a disclaimer.
i am not homophobic. also, i am not of the gay. bisexual? nay. in fact, i have a problem with bisexuals, i mean c’mon, both? you’re just being selfish. so just to make sure we’re all on the same page, i’m not judging anyone, except those damn bisexuals. who do you think you are, anyway?!

i’m just little ol’ jaimie “straighter than a month of sundays” pickle. so if you happen to be gay and i say something that offends you, well, we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. maybe i won’t piss anybody off and we’ll all get a good laugh. or maybe i’ll piss everybody off and i won’t have to do these anymore! why didn’t i think of this sooner?!

the thing about these Lesbian Stories (sounds like porn doesn’t it?) is that they both take place at work. so it’s not like i’m in a gay bar and wondering, “why are these women flirting with me?” i’m at work. work. also, like i’ve already mentioned, god likes a good laugh, so i’m alone. no witnesses. no one i can turn to and say, “hey remember the time that…”

Lesbian Story #1 ca. 2000

so i’m at work, right? i’m in the back making signs and probably whistling a jaunty tune. and this guy walks in. well, he looks more like a teenager. some kid with a baseball jersey and a ballcap that looks a little big on his head. so i think to myself, probably on one of the school teams. he needs a sponsor sign or something. no biggie.

as i walk closer to the fella i say, “can i help you?” and the dude turns into this middle aged woman and starts asking me about banners. holy cow i’m glad i didn’t say, “can i help you, sir?” or something. man, i need to start wearing my glasses at work, yo.

so this lady starts telling me that she needs a banner and that she and her friends have this party every summer and how much would it cost to get a banner that says Camp Wedontwannaweenee on it and how long will it take to get it made?

camp weedonwa? what did she say?

“well,” i say, “a 3’x6′ banner will cost ya about $50 bucks and.” wedontwannaweenee wedontwannaweenee that’s what she said. oh my gosh. where’s the hidden camera this cannot be real oh hell yes it’s real don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh.

so then she says, “wedontwannaweenee… get it?”

don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh.

i laughed.
“yes, ma’am. i get it. that’s uh, pretty clever.” and i snickered some more. ‘cos the day had started out boring and this was definitely not a boring thing. it was craZy-funny, and it got craZier.

“you’ve never heard of it?”
“um, no ma’am sure haven’t.”
“what? this is our 14th year! you’ve never heard of it?”
“no, no i haven’t.” what does she mean by that?

she started telling me all about this party they have and how much fun it is and they have music and all and bladdy bladdy bladdy and i’m thinking wait ’til the gang hears about this. this is so funny whatta weekly it’ll make! wait. i can’t do a gay weekly. think of all the hate mail. oh well.

so then she starts giving me directions to this camp/party.
“um, do you want the directions on the banner?”
“no. i’m giving you directions so you can come on out and party with us.”
“oh. um. i uh. huh. thank you?”
huh. i just got invited to a lesbian party. odd.

so i go and tell all my friends about my strange day and no one has ever heard of any lesbian fun day called camp wedontwannaweenee.

anyway, weeks later.
laura is at a friends house way out in the boonies. and there’s this loud music playing. and she asks her buddy, “what’s that? is there a concert or something?” and he says, “nah, it’s just the lesbians. you know, that camp weedontwannaweenee thing.”
get out!
camp wedontwannaweenee comes full circle!

Lesbian Story #2 ca. 2002

so i’m at the sign shop. working. making signs. this lady comes in. and there’s nothing overtly butch about her. she’s just this lady wanting a banner. a normal banner. not a banner for any lesbian camps or gay pride events or anything. just a regular old banner. very boring.
so i tell her about the banners and the prices and show her the colors and whatnot. so she says to me, “jaimie, can i ask you a question?”

“sure,” i say, fully expecting a question about artwork, logos, colors blah blah blah.

“jaimie, are you family?”

so i stop and think for a moment, huh? oh. she means am i related to kelly or richard or something like that. so i tell her that no, i’m not related to the owners i just work for them. ‘cos actually lots of people have asked me if i’m kelly’s daughter or something. pisses the boss off something awful. she’s only 15 years older than me.
anyway, i tell her all about how i’m not related to the bosses.

she looks at me kinda funny y’know? kinda like, smirky. and i think to myself why is she smirking? did i say something stupid? i answered her question didn’t i? and i’m not sure what happened but i think that a clue must’ve flown in and hit me in the head with the force of a thousand forceful things ‘cos immediately i get it. “oh!”

so i’m a little embarrassed y’know? i get all rambley and stupid. “oh uh, no ma’am. nope i’m not. sorry.” and i shrug as if someone had just asked me something like, “hey jaimie, do you have any #2 pencils i can borrow?” “huh? oh. nope. sorry.” wince. shrug.

and i go back into rambley mode about banners and colors and i know i’m just blushing profusely. because for some reason i feel just so damn stupid and while in mid-sale i think back to what i’ve said and realize that i basically just said, “sorry. i’m not gay.”
sorry? sorry?!
god jaime, you are an idiot.

so finally when the lady leaves i look up at god, who i know is laughing, and i say, “family? family?! come on!” and i can see him chuckling and saying in his boomy-father-like voice, “heh heh. jaimie, you should’ve seen your face! heh.”

yeah yeah yeah. how about a greek adonis next time?

so anyway. the thing is. i’m watching tv and this olive garden commercial comes on and at the end they say, “when you’re here…you’re family.” i laugh every time remembering lesbian story #2 and how i apologized for being straight. but when i laugh (because really, the word family has become hilarious to me) at those commercials other people look at me like i’m insane because those commercials are not funny. so now olive garden makes me think of italian food and lesbians (and now, so do you). a winning combination i’m sure.

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The One About I Don’t Work at Kmart

Category: weekleez

The One About I Don’t Work at Kmark
January 14, 2003

hi kids,

three in a row. that’s practically a blue streak.

first of all i should start this weekly out by saying that i don’t work at kmart. That’s not to say that all you shemps out there who work for kmart are lazy, shame-faced morons. nay, nay! you have a job. be proud of that. you probably won’t have one in six (6) months.

never be ashamed of your job. unless you are a shifty, smartass shemp that works at kelly signs. you should be ashamed! sitting on your duff all day, laughing at customers, and promising signs out knowing that you’ll never make the deadline! what sort of godless cretin are you?!

that being said, i would just like to mention that i don’t work at kmart.
so why is it that last monday night, after a notebook paper fiasco, did i find myself suddenly working at kmart?
perhaps i should ‘splain?

monday is grocery shopping day. the day when food is bought and brought home and put away and totally forgot about until next monday when i go to the store and wander down each aisle wondering what the hell i need and did i buy granola bars last time? while at the store i remembered that i needed to pick up a pack of notebook paper. unfortunately for me, and later kmart, the store did not have any college rule notebook paper.

what’s the big deal you ask?
well, obviously you’ve never seen my handwriting. it’s in teeny capital letters. which is funny ‘cos when i type it’s all lowercase. well hey, whatta ya know? i’m a paradox!

anyway. if i write on wide rule paper my notes look like they’re double spaced. so i need college rule paper, y’know, for like conservation purposes. it just looks funny otherwise. see, with wide rule…it’s like, half the paper doesn’t get used. y’see, what i mean is basically, listen. the store didn’t have the paper i needed so i had to go to kmart after shopping for groceries. feh.

well, actually it’s a toss-up right? i mean, kmart or walmark? which is the lesser of the two evils, dig? i thought it would be kmart ‘cos there’s always less cars in the parking lot.

so i go to kmart andpick up some paper and some other stuff like socks, a shirt, hair gel, a toothbrush etc. ‘cos i’m not going in there for just paper. heck no. ya gotta make a trip to kmart count, y’know?

right, so now i’ve got my arms full of junk, and i’m ready to check out and go home and chill out with a book and a beer or a movie or just something. something that involves me wearing my comfy jammies and not driving or shopping.

and just to recap what’s been said before:
i do not work at kmart.

so there i am arms loaded and looking for an open register… and there isn’t one.
da hell?! yo, i need a cashier all up in this piece!

there was not to be a cashier in my future, nay! in fact, i was to be the cashier, and welcome, jaimie, to the future!

they now have these special designated machine areas where you go and check yourself out. and after dark that’s the only available checkout option. this is of course the only time of day that they can do this, because old people don’t drive after dark. and trust me, old people cannot do this. well, in any case i’d hate to be behind an old person at these evil check-yourself-out-because-it’s-so-damn-convenient-for-us–
what-with-that-whole-bankruptcy-thing-we-had-to-downsize
-and-hire-these-machines-that-work-for-peanuts-no-literally-
they-actually-work-for-peanuts-oh-for-the-love-of…

so there i am, arms full, staring at this ghastly vague machine and i said to the screen, “i don’t work here.”
it responded with, “please scan first item.”
me: “you don’t undertand. i don’t work here. perhaps you could, i dunno, buzz someone over…”
machine of the future: “please scan first item.”
me: “heh heh. i mean, heh, what i mean is, this isn’t my job. i have a job and all…”
MOTF: “please scan first item”
me: “why you little…*insert yosimite sam cursing here*
MOTF: “please scan first item.”
me: *scans the shirt
MOTF: “boop!” “place first item in bag. now.”

so i take my time and fold the shirt all nice so it won’t get wrinkled up ‘cos it has mostly cotton and all and…

MOTF: “place first item in bag. now.”

holy smokes! the machine knows i haven’t put it in the bag?! i just know that the wizard of k is somewhere in the store, behind a curtain, watching me struggle with his evil new machine minions.
so i quickly place the shirt in the bag and mumble, “it puts the lotion in the basket.”

MOTF: “please scan second item.”
me: *scans second item
MOTF: “boop.” “please place second item in a bag. now.”
me: “yeah, hal. i gets it.”

so anyway, by the third time i’m scanmaster p baggy.
word up in the big k, yo!
i’m bizaggin’ and scizzannin’ my items with a beat like drum, uh! yeah uh huh! werd to my homies in aisle 2 scizzanning it up wit all my hoes at the big k! wassup my ni-

sorry.

actually, it took me a long time to scan everything and put it in a bag. i was sweating bullets. i just knew i was going to screw it up and some kind of siren was going to go off and i’d be accused of shoplifting or something because the machine could sense my imperfect DNA like in that movie about the future because i mean, y’know, this was the future and all. and then the robot police would come and take me away and my friends would never know what happened to me and my disappearance would be blamed on the degenerate former night shift employees who hang out at the drink machines outside hoping someone will leave a quarter in the change return. y’know, like in that movie.

so then it’s time for the money part.
these machines are so vague that i’m not sure where the money even goes. and i’m thinkin’ that i don’t want to pay with a twenty buck ‘cos i’m scared i’ll get like $13.00 in change, y’know? ‘cos i’m picturing a blue light spinning and the word “JACKPOT” flashing on the screen and the unmistakable sound of 200 nickels hitting the floor, and then all the former night shift workers killing each other trying to get my change.

so obviously paying with cash is out.

yeah, so usually i pay with a check but i mean, how the hell is the machine going to know if i filled out the check right? and where does the check go? why isn’t anything on this piece of futuristic nightmare labled?! cheese’n’crackers i hate the future!

it’s so obvious they want you to pay with a credit card. fine. i swipe my card through the only thing that looks remotely useful and the machine of the future says, “verify signature.”
me: “wha..? derp. i broke the machine…”
MOTF: “verify signature.”
me: “what signature? where do i sign…?”
MOTF: “verify signature.”

“ma’am? oh ma’am? ma’am. MA’AM!”
“wha…huh? voice?”

i turn and there’s this high school kid standing at this podium and she says, “ma’am, i need to verify the signature on your credit card.”

jesus in god. that’s her job. to look at credit cards.

listen, this is not the future i had always dreamed about with flying cars and robots and and… actually, i saw a commercial the other night, a commercial on TV and it was real and jimmy saw it too so i know it’s not dream. and it was a commercial for a robot. i shit you not, honda has a robot. an honest to goodness robot. it waved to the paper boy. heh, reminds me of robot insurance.

anyway kmart. apparently after dark all of we John and Jane Q. Finlaysons* out there become kmart employees. and we’re not on the payroll either. and for the record, i too would trade all of my tomorrows for one single yesterday.

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