The One About Gallows

Category: weekleez

The One About Gallows
January 07, 2003

hi kids,

yo check it! two in a row! could this be a new year for the weekly? a year full of consecutive weekly rants about stupid things that happen to jaimie? will this be the year that jaimie pulls 52 consecutive essays out of her um, essay hat?

let’s ask our panel of experts what they think:

magic eight ball: my sources say no.

tootsie pop’s Mr. Owl: let’s find out, one…two-hoo!..three *crunch* three.

coca-cola polar bear: hmmmmmmmmm

and finally,

diana ross’s diva hair: get that microphone outta my face, bitch!

and there you have the panel answers. the eight ball with a decisive no. Mr. Owl gives the possiblity of three in a row but commits to no more than that while the coca-cola bear continues to ponder the question. and not surprisingly the diva hair gives a hateful, “no comment”.

on with the weekly.

as we all know i love movies. (i know, i’m laughing too)
ok so i hate movies, but i really like old cheese-bum movies mostly of the old horror and MGM Musical genres. so the other day i was watching the AMC channel, AMC is an acronym for Movies People Talk About But Rarely Watch All the Way Through. yeah, like it’s just me.

so i’m watching a documentary on AMC about the History of the Action Movie (or something about action movies i’m not sure if it was for or against the genre but it was an interesting watch) and when that ended i did not turn the television off but just sat there powerless and started to watch the next thing that came on as i had already been sucked into the TV and had lost all self-control to the boob tube.

<tangent> i realize that i’m a moron when it comes to describing televison shows and movies. i sound like an old lady trying to describe one of those “new fangled Talkies”. kinda like, “oh i saw a movie last night, you know the one…it had that guy in it…what a hottie! and that slutty girl from that other show? you know? you know which one i’m talking about! they get married! no! not to each other! dammit what’s the matter with you i’m telling you about that movie i saw last night! you know what i’m talking about you saw it!” ‘cos old people get mad when you don’t understand their horrible descriptions. yeah, like it’s just me. </tangent>

anyway. so this movie starts and it’s Bandolero! (1968) and i’m immediately excited because there’s an exclamation point in the title! it’s not just Bandolero it’s Bandolero! so then i think, shouldn’t it be iBandolero!? and then i think, dean martin? as a cowboy? really? and jerry lewis isn’t in the flick? it’s a serious cowboy movie? really?


it looks like dean is passing a fat one

right so anyway i’m sure it’s a great movie….because jimmy stewart is in it! and what a cool cowboy he is right? ok so maybe i’m lacking a certain respect to westerns. i dunno it seems like there’s only three westerns out there and all the other westerns are those same three westerns over and over. but what the hell do i know about westerns? my favorite western is Blazing Saddles.

anyway this particular western has one other famous person in it, raquel welch! she plays a mexican lady. she pulled off the accent ok, but the hair…my god the hair. she has this perfect gigantic hair even after riding on horseback for 6 hours with a cowboy hat on. this hair was so big that i think it should count as another cast member. and i’d have to say that for not having any speaking parts her hair did a great job of being gigantically huge hair.

“aaaaand cut! ok ms. welch’s hair may i have a moment? greaaaaat. listen in this next scene i’m gonna need you to be extra big and poofy ok? think you can do that for me hon? i know, and you’re doing great! but this next scene you’re sitting at a campfire between two grizzled cowboys and i really need some femininity here…you know…to represent the how the west really was. you’re doing fabulous babe! aaaaaaand action!”

look, it was ridiculously big hair.

the thing is, and this is the thing, this weekly is not about raquel welch’s brontosaurus-sized hair. it’s about gallows.

see, dean martin’s character is a bad guy and he has a gang and they get caught and oh hell here’s a synopsis from the imdb:

Posing as a hangman, Mace Bishop arrives in town with the intention of freeing a gang of outlaws, including his brother, from the gallows. Mace urges his younger brother to give up crime. The sheriff chases the brothers to Mexico. They join forces, however, against a group of Mexican bandits who mortally wound both brothers.

oh thanks imdb that clears it all up. here let me give you some faces to go with all of that:

Posing as a hangman, Mace Bishop (james “harvey” stewart) arrives in town (typical rowdy westernville) with the intention of freeing a gang of outlaws, including his brother (dean “dino” martin), from the gallows. Mace (james) urges his younger brother (dino) to give up crime (killing people, like raquel welch’s husband, who is killed off in the first 8 minutes of the movie) . The sheriff (george “dragline” kennedy) chases the brothers to Mexico (where raquel welch’s character and hair are supposedly from, i guess in the 60s you could get away with stuff like that). They join forces, however, against a group of Mexican bandits who mortally wound both brothers (not sure about all of that because i put the TV on mute shortly after having a discussion about gallows with my father and then eventually turned it off thus Bandolero! becomes one of those movies i’ve talked about but never actually seen the whole thing, thank you AMC).

so anyway while dean martin and his “gang” are in jail and waiting to get hanged (people are hanged pictures are hung), they can see men with hammers, nails, and saws building gallows right outside their small jail window. thank god, i’ve finally gotten to what the weekly is about!
why is it, that in all these western movies, they have to build gallows? shouldn’t they already have gallows? shouldn’t these westernopolis places already have that capital punishment tool at the ready? i mean, it’s not like they have to build a jail everytime they arrest a cowboy. they don’t build the saloon when a stranger comes riding up from out of the sunset, i mean heck, these towns already have a lynchmobs and posses, i hardly think that the town forgot to build a gallows.

or is it like, after they “hang ’em high” do they immediately disassemble the “unsightly” gallows? only to rebuild them when there’s to be another hanging? my father and i continued to discuss this at length (about 30 hilarious seconds) and decided that apparently there must’ve been a gallows union or something. Gallows Makers of America.

i suppose that not all typical Santa Cowboyvilles were pro death penalty, but when those towns caught a “wanted man” they sent them to the nearest CowboyHangin’ town to be tried, convicted, hanged and left for the buzzards. and what’s the last thing those prisoners get to see outta their jail windows? men with hammers, nails, and saws building gallows.

heh. gallows humour.
derp!

before you guys lynch me here are some tasty links from my last meal:

laura mentioned that this week’s epitomb might not be funny if
A. you’ve never seen Bandolero! or
B. aren’t my father (fahsha!)
so because i know how the AMC people are (they show a movie to death) i looked up their website, which is not www.amc.com but is in fact www.amctv.com and if you’ve never seen the first 20 minutes of Bandolero! you can catch it this month on Wednesday, January 22 at 10:00pm and if you’re an insomniac you get a bonus veiwing on Thursday, January 23 at 2:30am and both times are eastern…which is funny ‘cos it’s a western.

prof.zim.FA sent this which was TOTALLY INTERESTING http://www.starwars-rpg.net/swfa/issue3/wilhelm.html
and a video page that was great http://www.imb.org/core/videoviewer/task/eloise3_high.asp i especially like dthe one about the second coming.

next week’s epitomb: florrie gave me the CORN PUDDING recipe!! perhaps i’ll share.

jaimie “¡bandolero está la mejor película siempre!” pickle

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The One About 24

Category: weekleez

The One About 24
December 31, 2002

so i get this christmas card from danny “daktari!” wilborn and it has a serene picture of a barn with a tiny manger and the big star up in the sky and it’s such a delicate picture of a quiet first christmas and i open it up and it says, “oooos a wittle fweegan? the baby jesus is a wittle fweegan!” and well, i laughed a whole lot.

ah the last weekly of the year.

this holiday season was filled with joy, peace and excess. i don’t know why, but for some reason during the holidays i’m allowed to eat cheese and crackers at 2pm and also expect to eat a gigantic meal at 5pm consisting of two meats, five veggies, a roll and two slices of any flavor pie on the counter.

geez, i don’t eat that much all week long, what makes me think i can eat it in one day? excess. because it’s the holidays. there’s no guilt! oh sure i’m up half the night yarking up some kind of punkin/mashed potatoes glom, but that’s okay, it’s the holidays.

and for heaven’s sake don’t ask me to do anything. i’m on vacation. i have huge plans for reading several books, don’t bug me. i’m not “running errands” or “going to walmart” or “taking a shower”. all i want to do is read my books.

so last thursday i was doing some running around. i had to go to the store to get some normal food and beverages and then had to run to the bank to put some money in my checking account, also i got a hair cut and bought some black hair dye. on the way back to the apartment i stopped at the video store to see if there were any PS2 games left. after seeing that only one lame wrestling game was all that was left i began to peruse the movies to see if there was something i wanted to watch. there was nothing but since i had walked around that place 6 times i sure as shinola wasn’t leaving that place empty handed.

but james, i thought you weren’t running any errands and were going to read books?
shut up and read the weekly.

so i picked out some movie and at the last moment i picked up the 1st disc of the 1st season of that new Fox hit, 24.
holy crap, i was hooked.

for those of you who don’t know what that show is about let me ‘splain to you.

each episode of the show is one hour of this one day. there are 24 episodes. 24 hours. the show is called 24. get it?

so thursday night laura and i watched the 1st four episodes…only because there are four episodes to a disc and i had only rented the 1st disc because i figured i wouldn’t watch more than one episode anyway. boy was i wrong.

every episode is uber-intense and ends with the biggest cliffhanger imaginable.

so first thing friday morning i woke up and rented 2 more discs (8 episodes) and i’m fairly certain laura and i watched them all. meanwhile jimmy and kris marvelled at how we could sit in front of the TV that long. which we responded with, “we knew that wasn’t janet’s real father!”

let me just say that the first 12 hours were fabulous.

on saturday i rented two more discs and we watched those eight episodes over the weekend, just kind of scattered about.

on monday i rented the last disc and i finally have my life back.

let me just say the next 12 hours were weak. the last 6 hours were like punishment for being sloths. the last 2 hours we basically just forced ourselves to watch it because, y’know, we’d gotten so far. it would seem wrong to stop at that point.

the intensity of the show started to rub off on us. everytime i’d call someone on my cell i’d first ask, “is this a secure line?” and everything suddenly became urgent. “laura, i have to do my laundry!”
“how much time do you need?”
“i’m not sure gimmie at least 2 hours!”
“jaimie, that’s too much time! you’ve got an hour!”

“jaimie! there’s dirty dishes in the dishwasher!”
“ok. that’s no problem! we’ll put soap in it..”
“someone’s already put soap in it! i think there’s a spy in the kitchen!”
“laura that’s crazy! just press the start button!”
“i don’t have authorization to do that!”
“well, who’s got the keycard?”
“i don’t know! we don’t have time for this!”
“fine, we’ll uplink the code to the sat link to my pocket satelite readout picture thingy, that will show us the schematics of the washer and we can break the code without using the keycard!”
“ok but that will take time!”
“we don’t have time!”
“i’ll just press the start button!”

the show revolves around two families, the black family and the white family. both familes have their problems. the white family is trying to rebuild their relationships with each other. the black family seems picture perfect at first but as the show goes on they explode on each other (i blame the evil, coniving bitch wife). the white family is not together at all during the 24 hours because the wife and daughter get kidnapped and the dad is busy trying to save the black family as well as his own. the black family is always together because the dad is running for president and they stay in a hotel for the whole episode. their part is kinda boring because mainly the husband and wife get mad at each other the whole time.

typical scene between the senator and his wife:

senator: “sherry, how could you keep a huge secret like that from me?”
bitch wife: “david, i’m only thinking of your career!”
senator: “but what you did was a lie! it was wrong!”
bitch wife: “david, i’m only thinking of your career! people won’t elect an honest politician!”

later on in the show, we’ll say hour 14:

senator: “sherry! what have you done? how could you keep such a secret from me?”
bitch wife: “oh come on david! i’m trying to save your career here!”
senator: “but that’s breaking the law! it’s murder!”
bitch wife: “oh come on david! don’t you see i’m saving your career?! we’re making history!”
senator: “we?”
bitch wife: “that’s right david, we. we’re in this together! it’s for your career!”

in hour 24 the senator finally gets a clue:

senator: “sherry! how could you do this horrible thing? it’s murder!”
bitch wife: “david i’m saving your career!”
senator: “this is murder! who are you?”
bitch wife: “i’m gonna be the first lady!”
senator: “no you’re not! don’t ever come near me again!”
bitch wife: “but your career!”

and on and on.

on the other hand here’s a sample of jack’s cell phone dialogue with any of his CTU team:

jack: “yeah it’s me. i need you to *insert impossible thing here* and call me back when it’s done.”
CTU SHEMP: “but jack, i don’t have authorization for that.”
jack: “well get it!” *click*

also

jack: “it’s me. i need to arrange this impossible meeting in an impossible short period of time and i can’t tell you where i’m at or where the meeting is and i can’t tell you why i can’t tell you. now arrange that impossible meeting! i’m gonna need back up! i need it in 15 minutes!”
CTU SHEMP: “jack, that’s impossible! why can’t you tell me?!”
jack: “i need you to trust me! arrange back up at the place i won’t tell you and call me back when it’s ready!”
CTU SHEMP: “but jack!”
jack: *click*

and just as a bonus here’s a typical bad guy telephone conversation:

american bad guy: “don’t worry, everything is under control.”
*background noises like explosions and screams can be heard*
slavic bad guy: “vell dat ees funny. you sound like der ees no kontrol.”
abg: “everything is fine!”
sbg: “eet better be. for if not you in kontrol now den just wait ’til i get there and den we see just how kontrol is not in your hands and i’ll keel you slow and painful!”
abg: “whatever, i gotta go.”

so yeah, over five days i watched 24 hours worth of conversations like that. sickening isn’t it?
but i don’t have to feel guilty. it’s the holidays!

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The One About Happy Holidays from Apt. 313

Category: weekleez

The One About Happy Holidays from Apt. 313
December 17, 2002

hi kidz U r0k wut ^ y0?

anyway ’tis the season and all that! and with the season comes the time for everyone’s favorite christmas card tradition: The 3rd Person POV Christmas Newsletter v3.0!
how about a little backstory?

now see, my cousin stace dawg does one of these every year and hers is always funny and interesting and best of all it’s not written in 3rd person. it’s written by stacy. we know it’s written by stacy, she uses the pronoun I. and did i mention it’s interesting and funny?

now there are other relatives out there who aren’t interesting or funny and they write their holiday newsletters in third person and with boring details like, “so-and-so got married”, “the baby was born with two heads and a tail” or even, “the religious zealots that burned down their house were finally convicted this year.” yadda-yadda-yadda.

three years ago laura and i both recieved very boring 3rd person POV newsletters from relatives that we hardly even know, and we passed them around to all our friends and laughed at them because we are a cruel and hateful people and also because the letters were in 3rd person and can i just say that again? i mean, it sounded like these people had hired scribes to follow them around all year to write about their family deeds as if this historical information would somehow be useful to future generations of warmongers. where am i going with this?

ah yes! the newsletter!
and so for the last three years or is it two? i can’t remember because the scribe i hired to record all of my important information turned out to be a religious zealot arsonist and has recently been convicted of… oh nevermind. anyway here’s this year’s installment of:

Happy Holidays from Apt. 313


what festive hair! (not gay)

Happy Holidays to you and yours!
May this letter find you in good health and even better spirits!

This year has been a great year for Laura and Jaimie, because they moved out of the hellish apartment 711! Ah, ol’ apt. 711, where the winters were always colder than Greenland and the summers were always an inferno hotter than the 4th circle of Hell. Good times. Anyway, this year found the girls in glorious “downtown apartment life.” Ah, apt. 313, where the central heat and air works every time.

This new and improved “downtown life” has been quite a shift for Jaimie. While Jaimie is neither a country nor a city mouse, she has found that she’s actually not a mouse at all but is instead a naive suburbanite at heart and really hates that her yard is a parking lot.(Being suburbanites at heart is probably why the girls still go out of their way to shop at the Food World in Rainbow City, rather than the Food Max a block away from the apartment.)

Laura, on the other hand, is quite the city mouse. This is probably because she’s 36 yards from her work, which is in walking distance of three really great restaurants (Mater’s! Courtyard Café! Tewana’s!). Of course, not that Laura actually walks to these on her lunch break, due to the incredibly stupid and inconvenient time card her job has seen fit to provide her which makes taking a lunch more like a punishment than anything else.

Laura is still working at the local newspaper as their chief map and chart maker as well as occasionally getting to make some really neat graphics…when they remember that she works there and that her job is to make really great graphics.
Jaimie is still working at the signshop and taking orders from morons. She regrets everyday that she did not become a history teacher or even a polisci major or pretty much anything but art. She wishes she was still in school.

Both girls walk to church.

Feeling that they should give back to the community that gives and has given so much to them both, they have both become big volunteers. Well, they haven’t formally joined any community groups or charities, and actually they don’t really volunteer their time to any special community events or organizations like the March of Dimes or YMCA or the PTA. However, they both occasionally shop at Goodwill and the Salvation Army and that makes them feel like they’re doing something good for someone . Y’know, when they’re not littering or stealing public property.

Laura and Jaimie are very proud this year to announce that they have a real Christmas Tree (well, a real plastic tree but it’s tall!) in the apartment and not a pathetic, tiny one like the last couple of years, Christmas Shrub anyone?


look at the glorious tree! (not gay)

also, their collection of hard liquor, liqueurs, and all around tom boozery has grown from wine coolers and the occasional amaretto sour to vodka, whiskey, vodka, would you believe cognac?, several wines mmmmmwine, schnapps,schnapps,schnapps and vodka. with mixers such as sour mix, lime juice, cranberry juice, tequilla (that’s a mixer, right?) and vodka. oh, and also, vodka. To say that these lively girls are alcoholics would be unfair, mean, and name-calling. also it would be accurate.
vodka.

This year Laura has taken to carrying around a sketch book wherever she goes. She’s really found her artistic groove. She’s made several collages, batiks, mosaics and other incredibly messy, kitchen table destroying activities. Jaimie has made two pieces of art this year. Her pieces have been made from aluminum and she makes them at work because there’s no room on the kitchen table due to all of laura’s fabric, wax, tile, glue, dye and vodka cluttering up the table.

Although Jaimie is terrible at practicing her art she has been very loyal to her books. She has read a total of 28,054.76 books this year and has paid the library approximately $14.78 in late fees. Jaimie regrets not being more punctual in returning her books figuring that she could have spent that money on helping poor people or on a medium bottle of vodka.

Laura and Jaimie are still:
in a band (right guys? there’s still a band, right?)
not married, yet
in therapy

The girls hope that this year has been as good to you as it has been to them!
happy vodka holidays!

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The One About Christmas vol.III is.IV

Category: weekleez

The One About Christmas vol.III is.IV
December 5, 2002

hi kiddos!

congrats to mere and josh on the birth of their second wee fleegan, Sophia. So-Feeeeeeee-Yah!

it’s decemember and you know what that means! christmas-themed weekleez!

this week’s ultra-mega-ultra christmas themed weekly is all about one of those wonderful, high-spirited and all around delightful christmas songs. christmas carols are just one of the ways we psych ourselves up for the holidays (booze being the other). there’s nothing like a spirited song to get our emotions and our attitudes in the right mood for the season! well, they used to anyway. now christmas songs are poured out of shopping center speakers before thanksgiving just to get us all ready for the mood. the mood to spend money that is!

i know what you’re thinking, “gosh jaimie, that’s a cynical way to put it!”
i know, but the truth is i love christmas songs. love ’em. and since i love those terribly outdated, overplayed christmas songs i’m allowed to make fun of them!

you’re probably wondering which beloved christmas tune i’m gonna rip to shreds. will it be Do You Hear What I Hear? or what i like to call Do You Hear What That Crazy Freak Andy Williams Hears? everytime i hear that song i visualize a man having a psychotic episode. i mean, he’s hearing things, seeing things, and he’s talking to barnyard animals. PCP and livestock, that’s what christmas means to me.
but no, that’s not the wonderful christmas carol i planned on sharing with you.

will it be that horribly sad carol, I’ll Be Home For Christmas? where a guy promises that he’ll be home for christmas and we can count on him? and at the end he kind of adds, “if only in my dreams” meaning, “hey, i won’t actually be home for christmas for whatever reason be it war, plague, famine etc. but i’ll think about being home for christmas. hey, you can count on me.” nah, i won’t talk about that one.

so which one is it gonna be, jaimie?
it’s the all-time favorite, the classic, the timeless, the i’ve-run-out-of-adjectives:

Snoopy’s Christmas
by: The Royal Gaurdsmen

O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum,
Du kannst mir sehr gefallen!

The news had come out in the First World War
The bloody Red Baron was flying once more
The Allied command ignored all of its men
And called on Snoopy to do it again.

Was the night before Christmas, 40 below
When Snoopy went up in search of his foe
He spied the Red Baron, fiercely they fought
With ice on his wings Snoopy knew he was caught.

Christmas bells those Christmas bells
Ring out from the land
Asking peace of all the world
And good will to man

The Baron had Snoopy dead in his sights
He reached for the trigger to pull it up tight
Why he didn’t shoot, well, we’ll never know
Or was it the bells from the village below.

Christmas bells those Christmas bells
Ringing through the land
Bringing peace to all the world
And good will to man

The Baron made Snoopy fly to the Rhine
And forced him to land behind the enemy lines
Snoopy was certain that this was the end
When the Baron cried out, “Merry Christmas, my friend”

The Baron then offered a holiday toast
And Snoopy, our hero, saluted his host
And then with a roar they were both on their way
Each knowing they’d meet on some other day.

Christmas bells those Christmas bells
Ringing through the land
Bringing peace to all the world
And good will to man

the royal guardsman were neither royal, nor guardsmen, nor were they even british. but in 1967 this florida garage band had a modicum of fame (and by modicum i mean 19 minutes, which is far more than their share) with this wonderful christmas hit. and by wonderful i mean drug induced.

this christmas song has it all: snoopy, christmas bells, german world war one flying ace baron von richthofen and good will toward men. but i mean, what christmas song doesn’t have these essential christmastime qualities?

anyway i did some “research” and found that this was not the RG’s only snoopy song. the first being the 1966 uber-hit Snoopy vs the Red Baron which was quickly followed by the mega-hit The Return of the Red Baron. and it was only after that that the geniuses thought that a christmas song was in order. lucky us.

and then in 1968 the morons tried their “snoopy luck” for the 4th time with Snoopy for President (no lie) to which the rest of the world replied with, “look, we get it. it’s snoopy. you’re a novelty band, you have a gimmick and i swear to god if you make another snoopy song we’re gonna beat the crap outta ya and break your instruments.”

but in 1969 they came out with The Smallest Astronaut where snoopy is shot into outerspace to throw the russians off the space race. that’s when the world finally broke their instruments. i mean sheesh, john birch society much?
c’mon! this is snoopy! he’s Joe Cool! since when has Joe Cool been about pro-establishment propaganda?

i mean, sure i get that snoopy’s character out of the whole Peanut’s Gang was more of a heightened conscience while the actual “human” “kids” like Peppermint Patty and Charlie “chuck” Brown were more philosophically social characters. i mean you have Schroder representing the arts. Peppermint Patty was the hippie and Marcy was her “partner”. Lucy was an alarmist. Linus had a dependency problem. Franklin was the token black kid. Pig Pen was poor. Charlie Brown was the fatalist as well as the manager for the baseball team. Sally was the pain in the neck little sister.
see, i get all that. i mean, i even understand the kite-eating tree.

what i don’t get is why snoopy is flying a sopwith camel biplane, and by sopwith camel i mean red dog house, in germany to shoot down baron von richthofen in a war that had been over for 40 or 50 years. and what further confuses me is why, when ace richthofen has snoopy in his sights he does not fire but instead wishes him a merry christmas.

so like, was everyone on drugs in the ’60s?

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The One About oooooos a fweegan?

Category: weekleez

The One About oooos a fweegan?
November 26, 2002

hi kids,

i have a new relative. that’s right! some wonderful people that i never get to see just had a beautiful (i guess, i’ve not seen it yet, but i mean, how could he not be gorgeous?) baby boy. the thing is these relatives live in a galaxy far far away and i know i’ll never get to see this kid. i know this because my other cousin has had like, 3 kids and i’ve yet to see them and i think one of them can drive a car by now so that tells you how often i travel to the mystical land of ohio.

so anyway this baby named henry was born the other day and i’m related to him somehow. i’m not sure how, i think we might be cousins. and i think it’s just sad that i can’t take the little guy out for a beer or anything because i live so far away and he’s too young to drink beer. and rereading that last sentence and oh yeah, i’m gonna be a great mom someday. so i thought how can i meet this kid? how can i let the little fleegan know that i’m thinking about him and want to be the first one to show him what karaoke is, and how to draw, and that monty python and the holy grail is the funniest thing in the world.

i mean, i want to be that “craZy aunt jaimie” that his parents won’t like for him to hang around with because he comes home saying things like, “dad, is the moon made of cheese? because craZy aunt jaimie said that it’s made of cheese and applesauce.”
and, “hey mom, is it true that if we outlaw guns only outlaws will have guns?” or even, “hey dad! craZy aunt jaimie said she’d take me to the carnival and let me eat all the corndogs and cotton candy that i want and then i can ride all the rolleycoasters and bump-’em-up cars until i barf! can i go? please? huh? can i?”

so how can i meet this kid short of driving all day to ohio, meeting him, and then driving back hoping i won’t be late for work in the morning? i’ll write him a letter! what a fabulous idea!
so erick and allison, you guys are responsible for reading this letter to your brand new son.

dear henry,

hi. i’m your cousin jaimie. i know i won’t get to see you very often, so i’m writing you a letter to tell you some of the important things that you need to know. first off, oooos a wittle fweegan? oooos? yooos a wittle fweegan! yooos a fweegan! yes yooos! ooooweeeeeooooweee! when you turn 18 the first thing you should do is register to vote. voting is important. you may not like the candidates or understand the gibberish that they spout, but people have died to give you and me the right to vote for whichever slob we think is less likely to get us all killed (in most cases. the 2000 election does not count). another thing you should always remember is that oooooo wook at your wittle earsy-wearsies! so tiny and cute! i’m gonna gobble up your ears! gobble gobble! wook at da earsies! wittle fweegan ears!

another thing you should know henry: always be prepared. and what i mean by this is jumper cables henry, jumper cables. always have ’em. oooos gonna have da bestest-westest jumper cables? ooooos um? yoooos um gonna have the bestest jumper cables ever! dats right! wittle fweegans got to have some jumper cables! ooooweeeewoo!

also henry, when you go to college, and you will, do not notnotnotnotnot get an art degree. just. don’t. unless you like peanut butter and jelly a lot. ooooos gonna be a smart-warty? oooos um? yooooos um gonna be da smartest fweegan in da whole world! yes yoooos um! wif your wittle fweegan toes! toesy-wosies! wook at ’em! wiggle dem toesies! i’m gonna gobble those toesies! gobble gobble!

henry, travel light, but make sure you always have a chapstick and a swiss army knife. sure the swiss don’t fight anymore, but at one time they were ruthless mercenaries. ooooooos a wittle mercenawy? ooosum? not dis wittle fweegan! no no! dis wittle fweegan is a wuver not a fighter. das wight!

and henry, when you get your first job (which will either be in retail or food service) remember that the customer is never right and know that your boss knows that the customer is never right, but that both you and your boss will try to placate the moron customer because the customer will start to talk loudly and will make no sense and eventually you both will figure out that the customer is slightly mental and you’ll wonder how that person managed to drive a car at all but you don’t want to anger the customer anymore than it already is so you’ll try to calm it down and give it a free burger and just for the love of all make sure it doesn’t pull out a gun and shoot up the place. it’s just one of those things henry. but don’t worry we all have to oh, hey…uh oh….hooosums got stinky britches? hooosums got the stinky? did the wittle fweegan poopy? uh oh! fweegan poopy!

and henry, the moon is made of cheese and applesauce.

love,
craZy aunt jaimie

on with the weekly.

so i’m in wal-mark, right? and i’m in the deodorant aisle with jimmy, right? and so there’s two chicks in the health/beauty section and they are talking quite loudly about dating. we can’t see them yet. we can only hear the one girl’s very loud voice. so this one girl (not so loud girl) is telling this other girl (very loud girl) that she should dump her current boy friend. so VLG says, “nuh-uh. we ain’t EVEN having this conversation! you say the SAME thing EVERY time and i KNOW i need to start dating older boys.” and she goes on and on about how she needs an older dude, a more mature boy bladdy bladdy bladdy.

now by the time she says all this they have started down the same aisle we’re on. and they stop right next to me. VLG is standing not 14 inches to my right. and she says, very loudly, “i need a big kid to sleep with.”

i couldn’t help it. my laughter would not contain itself. it burst forth from my mouth without any warning. she turned to me and said, “OH. you think that’s FUNNY? huh? i’ll show you funny BI*CH!” and she socked me right in my laughing gob! well, that woke me up y’know? so i was all, “i don’t THINK SO! there’s gonna be two hits, skank. one when i hit you and one when you hit the floor. tatdow!” and jimmy was on the sidelines screaming “cat fight! cat fight! catfight!”

ok the fight scene didn’t really happen. that was pure embellishment on my part. but what a story that would have been!

luckily she did not see fit to kick my laughing arse up and down the aisle. because she could have cleaned the floor with my hysterical laughing gob. she probably could have beat up jimmy too if she’d felt like it. instead she turned to her friend and said, “what kind of deoderant do you need? C’MON let’s GO!” and they very loudly went on their way. i wanted to follow them because who knows what other nuggets of wisdom would have spewed forth from VLG, but alas it was late and really, i’m not a very good stalker.

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The One About J-Lo

Category: weekleez

The One About Jaimie Discusses Way Rad Current Events
November 19, 2002

hi kids,

y’know, sometimes i think that maybe the weekly should be more up on current events than on what stupid thing happened to jaimie last week. i mean, it’s always me me me! i could be writing about amazing scientific experiments (ants and NyQuil) or even history! i mean, i could be discussing world events and really important things like that! i hate that every week ends like, “…and i slipped on a banana peel that a customer had thrown on the floor (stupid shemp) and then the toaster jumped off the counter and set the shop on fire and while i was lying there trying to catch my breath a steam-roller came out of nowhere and flattened me! what a bad day that was! derp!”
that was my parody of the weekly.

so this week that’s just what i’ve done, i’ve written about important current events! it’s all about the news!

so the other day a group of us was watching a newsy television show all about important news and news issues and very current topics… J-Lo (she’s a singer and an actress! just like barbra striesand!) was being interviewed by Diane “i wish i could make ’em cry like barbara walters can” Sawyer and it was really stupid and we made fun of it, and then we felt dirty for watching such mindless drivel, and then we went and read the Encyclopedia Britannica. it’s like binge and purge. ‘cos oh man i gotta see the whitney interview in two weeks!
kill me.

so we were all taking bets on how long the Ben Somebody & J-Lo marriage will last.
let me just say that i’m really bad at movie star names. jimmy and laura will be watching a movie and one will say, “who is that guy? what’s he been in?” and the other one will say, “oh that’s so and so he was in such and such with that girl who was on that show called bladdy blah, but i can’t remember her name.” and the first one will say, “oh yeah! now i remember! and her name is flippyfoo and she was in flartyfleem with jibbyjam. i remember that because i recently watched glimmiplop and she was in it with happyjerd and i thought, ‘who is she?’ and then i remembered!”
meanwhile i’m in a fog like that guy from Memento.

right, so J-Lo/Ben Who? marriage poll:
jimmy said 3 months
k-ris gave it 6 months
laura said that it won’t happen
shelley gave it a year
i said it would last forever, it’s a match made in heaven, or boston, or da bronx or wherever.
and they turned and looked at me like i had just spoken in tongues. i said that obviously those two youngsters are in love and it will probably last forever. *insert chuckle here*

and i guess i’m the only person in the world who didn’t know that J-Lo was from da bronx (you have to say “da bronx” to say “the bronx” is like so 1888). i thought she was puerto-rican. it turns out she’s both puerto-rican and bronxonian. and she tells people that a lot. she’s proud to be a puerto-rican bronxonian. and hey, i think that’s just fabulous. anyway, back to the marriage thing.

laura says that Ben Aflac (aflac! aflac!) is fruity… i assume she means he’s like that zebra chewing gum with the stripes on it, it’s kinda pretty and cool until you chew it and it’s flavor only lasts for 38 seconds. she says that J-Lo is a cover-up. i had never thought of that before. probably because i’ve never really thought about Ben Whathisname before. i mean, he’s not one of those guys that sticks in my mind y’know? i like his hetero-life parnter, matt damon, much better. laura says that matt damon is not fruity. laura is the weekly movie star correspondent; she reads Rolling Stone so she knows her movie star shite.
i mean, someone’s gotta be the movie star expert around here…lord knows i haven’t a clue about J-Lo or that guy she’s marrying. i keep getting J-Lo and Salma Hayak and Catherine Zeta-Jones/Douglas confused. i think it’s the hair. or maybe it’s just that they play the same roles in all their movies.


see what i mean?

jimmy pointed out that J-Lo is still not divorced from some other marriage yet. y’know, i guess that would be kind of a turn-off. but seeing as how she’s just that Ben guy’s beard i don’t see why he’s have a problem with that.
oh so what if that’s her 5th or so marriage! they’re in love!
so then laura said, “honk if you’re married to J-Lo!”
and we all laughed.

so then i was at my parent’s house the other day burning illegal copies of Armeggedon and The Sum of All Fears when i overheard my mom and dad talking about the J-Lo/Ben Whoever marriage. my mom and dad were talking about J-Lo?!

so i said, “dad, you’re talking about J-Lo.”
and he’s all, “yeah. oh man! what’s Ben thinking?!”
and i was all, “who? i can’t believe my parents are…”
and he’s all, “ben afleck. that poor bastard.”
“dad. i can’t believe that you and mom are talking about that.”
“that poor ben. even if you told him…he wouldn’t believe you.”
“you’ve been watching the Anna Nicole Show again haven’t you?”
mom was all, “i think she’s making fun of us again, dear.”

so much for current events, huh?
so much for newsy newsish news, eh?
so much for infotainment, derp?

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The One About Ants

Category: weekleez

The One About Ants
November 12, 2002

hi kids!

i just got off the phone with a saleslady who, i’m certain, was drunk.

“kelly signs”
“would uh, your company …*gasp belch (then she blew the burp into the phone)hoooh* … a free web page for 15 days?”
“uhhhhhhhhhhh no thank you.”
“your welcome, bye.”

i suppose her brain processed the gross-gaspy burp as “be interested in”, but i processed it as, ” *gasp*brahhhhoooooh”.
nice. really nice.
i hate the phone at work.

so i asked laura to write the weekly about ants but she wouldn’t do it because
#1. she’s lazy and wants to spend all her time reading harry potter slashfic. and
#2. she thinks she’s not funny.
when actually she’s funnier than i am AND she knows the rules of grammar…and uses them.

anyway, it’s november now. it’s rainy and dreary and chilly and gah. i like the colder weather though, but i don’t like the uninvited guests that it’s brought to the apartment: ants.
ants are like thieves y’know?

this one time i was in this hotel right? i woke up in the morning and my backpack with all my CDs, CD player and all my cool stuff was gone! someone came in my room while i was sleeping and stole my favorite stuff! i was sleeping!
i mean sure i’m happy that the freak didn’t wake me up, rape, torture or kill me, but still it’s a creepy feeling. violating y’know? i did not enjoy that morning at all.

much in the same way that i did not enjoy waking up to a kitchen filled with ants.
feh. we are not filthy people y’know? we had some dirty dishes in the sink. that’s all. a couple of bowls or something.
well, it didn’t exactly start out like that.
two days before the invasion we saw a couple of ants on the floor. but what can you do about 4 ants meandering the floor? you don’t know where they came from (a slit in the hardwood floor) or where they are going (the sink! they’re going to the sink! stop them!) so really a couple of wandering ants is a total waste of deductive thinking. besides you can follow the ants around but they never go anywhere and just look totally lost and stupid until you squash their guts with a napkin. then you spray the 409 and then you totally forget about the whole thing.

until you wake up two days later and there’s a massive invasion in your kitchen sink and counter. gheederp! the violation! the gagging! you are not a filthy person! you should not have ants in your kitchen! you live in the city for crying out loud! do ants even live in the city?! did they all pile in the trolley and ride over here?! why are there ants in the kitchen?!
we bought poison. lots of poison.

after ranting about ants in the kitchen laura and i stopped being victims and then went on a mad killing spree.
then we cleaned the kitchen up spic and span. you could eat off the counter… y’know, if that’s your “thing”.

the next day there was even more ants.
they were coming up through the dishwasher.
well that’s just great. i mean, it’s not like you can just poison up your dishwasher is it?
feh. so we drowned them and cleaned them and eventually we did poison them…and ourselves. on accident.

a week later the ants managed to sneak into the pantry.
bastards!
lucky for me, laura and kris cleaned out the pantry and the ants and that was the end of that.
yeah right.

next day i wake up and get ready for work and i’m running late. me? late? for work? is this bizarro world? so i go to the cupboard for to make my lunch and there! and there! there there there! ants! NOOOOOOOO!!!
hells bells how did they come back so fast?!there’s not even any food in the cupboard anymore! just a can of tuna and my jar of peanut butter. the ants are all over the can of tuna (morons) so i grab it and throw i in the sink and wash it off. then i grab my peanut butter and hot dog! there’s no ants on the jar! god loves me! i can have lunch today!
i get my bread out and open the jar of peanut butter and oh my god, the maggots in poltergiest had nothing on this, it was a creepy, crawly ant nightmare in my peanut butter!
how did they get inside the jar?!
i hate you ants! i hate you!

well, at this point i was devastated. no lunch for hi-may. and sure i could’ve just tossed the jar into the trash, but i needed closure. i poisoned the peanut butter. then i threw it away.
i hate you ants.
then i went to work.
now, the thing is, and this is the thing, work is no better. there are ants all over my desk at work. how?
why god? why?
ants are coming out of my keyboard! they are everywhere and yet they aren’t going anywhere specific. i just don’t get it! there’s no food on my desk! why are they here?!
i killed them.

so my boss, Hydrogen Molly, comes in with a bag of donuts. tatdow!
so i put them on the counter and nowhere near my desk, ’cause i’d just poisoned my desk right? about 30 minutes later i think to myself, “hmm, i think i’d like a chocolate filled donut. mmmmm” so i turn towards the counter and *gasp* the white bag of donuts is covered in black ants. they are all over that bag and inside too! the sack was only there for a few minutes. where did they come from? how did they get there so fast? trolley?

and sure, i could’ve just tossed the sack of ants into the dumpster, but y’see, they were crawling all over my chocolate filled donut. i needed closure, you guys.
so i gassed those mamajammas.
then i tossed it into the dumpster.

so first they stole my peanut butter. then they stole my donut. what could they steal next?

the other night i woke up and it was like, 2am or something so i got up and did the bathroom thing and got some water and there on the wall was an ant. in my bathroom. smoosh. and wait, over there on that wall… another ant. smoosh. huh, that’s weird. i’m tired. back to bed.

next day there’s an ant in my shower. drown. and hey! there’s one on the wall! smoosh.
there’s no food in here. stoopid ants. oh well, off to work.
to fight more ants.

so i get home that night and i’m getting ready for bed and oh my god there’s ants in my bathroom, not one or two, but like, lots! what are they after?! i follow them up to a cabinet on the wall above my toilet. well, that’s odd, the only thing in that cabinet is towels and washcloths. there’s no food in there! ants, what are you doing?! so i open the cabinet and there are ants on the shelf….with my wash cloths…and my…cherry NyQuil.
they are in the bottle of cough syrup.

how hard up for food do you have to be to turn to cough syrup for sustenance?
i think i might have gone a little crazy after seeing them on my NyQuil because i remember saying something like, “get off my NyQuil you damned dirty ants!” and grabbing the industrial poison and totally gassing the cabinet and walls and floor and then i woke up the next morning wondering if it had really happened and then i saw the poison dripping from the mirror and toilet and yeah it really happened.

and then it hit me. what have i done?! i’m an idiot! and not for nearly poisoning myself!
think about it… think about the last time you took a big gulp of NyQuil. just think of the affect it would have on a teeny ant. there was a whole amazing experiment right in front of me and i totally poisoned it down the drain! i suck!

the only place that’s remained safe from the ants so far is the ‘fridge. i honestly don’t know what i would do if i opened the ‘fridge to find ants all over say… my piece of pecan pie or the butter or the booze.
i’d probably just close the door and go back to whatever i was doing. because i mean, to the victor goes the spoils.

the ants at work are really giving me fits because they are all over my desk, but they only come out like, five at a time…from different directions. so it’s like every 28 seconds i have to kill 1 or 2 ants.
and now the shop is infected with flies.

and they’re big flies too. i mean, really big. and they aren’t scared of me. they buzz my head all day long. filthy buggers.
so i fashioned a cudgel out of newsprint and vinyl and i’ve been clubbing flies for two weeks.
gah. these flies are huge. and they’re filled with blood! isn’t that gross?! i didn’t know that flies had blood y’know? i thought they were like y’know, fireflies or something, just filled with white stuff or something. not red stuff. i’ve been splattering files all over the place, and it’s just really tiring ’cause after i kill each fly i have to spray a 2 meter radius with cleaner just to mop up the guts. they’re really big flies. really.

i’m like the rambo of insects. er, rambelle. rambette. whatever.

anyway, laura didn’t write the weekly but she made this easy to follow map and military-esque narrative:
note that her words are in green. that’s to enhance the militaryness.

The time? October, 2002.  The place? Apartment 313. The problem? Enemy invasion.

Subjects were first spotted entering apartment from small hole in between baseboards of kitchen floor (1). Duct tape was applied to hole. Chunky shoes were donned, subjects stamped repeatedly. Hours later, re-entry was attained via separate flooring breach (2).  Re-appearance of duct tape and chunky shoes deemed necessary. Roommate called, inquiry made about procuring ant spray.

The next morning.  Subjects spotted on countertop (3).  Expletives deployed. Chunky shoes found. Subjects spotted swarming on sink (4). Unintelligible grunts of displeasure heard. Roommate alerted of problem. Heavy use of 409, paper towels, ant spray ensued.

Day of bliss.

Opened the dishwasher. Subjects everywhere. Ran dishwasher. Went to store and purchased ant bait. Put some in the dishwasher. Regime of ant bait, ant spray, new industrial ant spray, mopping the kitchen floor and ceasing of all meals in kitchen reduces ant situation. In that room.

* Lesson learned that if you are going to put poison of some kind in the dishwasher, it might be appropriate to put a sticky note on said dishwasher saying so. Such a note might prevent honest, helpful boyfriends from running the dishwasher without first removing the poison they hadn’t been informed was there.

isn’t that laura a funny person? don’t you wish she’d write next week’s weekly? me too.

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The One About Blondes Really Do Have More Fun

Category: weekleez

the one about blondes really do have more fun
October, 22, 2002

hi kids,

first, thanks to all of you great people who wish me a happy birthday! no, not the weekly birthday, my actual birthday. i’m an actual person you know! with an actual birthday! i’m not just the weekly! no i’m not! i’m real! i have feelings!
no, no i don’t.

second, my boss keeps whining that she doesn’t have cool spy name even though she’s given me lots of things like a hand-made scarf, two key chains, a huge kickass book of origami, and recently a harvard t-shirt that she bought me on her trip to boston. so i guess i owe her a nick, eh?
kelly farley. your new spy club name, should you choose to accept it (and if you don’t tough teabags), is…
hydrogen molly! she’s the club teetotaler and time keeper of all the hopscotch games.

third, if you ever get a chance to eat a home-cooked meal at dan and florrie noojin’s house…do it. florrie is awesome! she made corn pudding! what is corn pudding?! i don’t know! i’d never heard of such a beast! but it was the most delicious thing!

so anyway i recently had a birthday y’know? and so what i did was took the day off from work, which was monday. well the thing is, and this is the thing, all of my buddies were at work on monday. so there i was all alone on my birthday. which is fine y’know, ’cause i was planning to do some much needed shopping. but y’see the thing is, and this is the thing, the day before (sunday) i had to go and buy a new toner cartridge for my laser printer. well dang. that totally drained my day of birthday shopping, that biznitch cost me 100 bucks. feh. i hate you laser printer. o glorius printer how i hate thee.

so there i was all alone and basically poor on my birthday. so i thought to myself, “eh, i might as well dye my hair today since i’ve all this extra time.” and i had seen this far-out electric pink at the hair store so i thought that that would be a perfect color for my 25th year of life on this giant dirt heap. ok, but now the thing is, and this is the thing, that pink is really, really light, think pepto, and my hair is slightly, um, blue…so i figured i’d have to bleach my noggin first.

can you believe that i’ve never had to actually bleach my hair before? all the other purples and pinks have been these special kits that bleach the hair and deposit the color all in one sitting. i am clueless about the bleach. so i went in to the hair store fully intending to ask whichever fake blonde is working the counter to point to the thing that she uses and maybe ask some questions. but when i get there and grab the awesome pink i noticed a bleaching kit that was like, “my first bleaching kit” or “bleaching for morons” and i thought, “perfect!” so i made my purchase. i was ready.

but now the thing is, and this is the thing, i always have trouble dyeing the back of my head, ’cause i can’t see it. even when i use two mirrors and a midget i still can’t tell what the heck i’m doing. and there i am all alone on my birthday. so i called the only other person who i knew was not at work at the moment: my dad.
well, dad was all, “sure i’ll help ya with the back of your head, but then i have to install some cabinets at this lady’s house but yeah, come on over. i’ll bleach your head.”
dad’s cool like dat.

so dad and i are playing “beauty shop” and i really think he enjoyed it a lot. he talked with a lisp and said things like, “tho margie came in yethterday and wath all, ‘can you believe what betty thaid to thuthie?’ ohmeegaw! i know! anyway i think i’m going to preth thome wild flowerth after thith.” so then he went and fixed some cabinets while i let the harsh nuke-u-lar chemicals do their thing.

<tangent> my hair was blue the other day and i had to stop at a certain flell station that i believe i’ve mentioned before and the crazy hag was working, of bloody course, and she looked at me and i swear to you she said, “what color is your hair today?”
oh come on!
how many colors came in your box of crayolas, lady?!
and then this guy that’s been standing around says to her, “hay, that’s the girl what put the steekers on the side of mah truck!”
oh god in heaven no, crazy gas station hag AND a customer?! it’s just not fair sometimes.
i snatched my change from the crazy hag’s insane fingers and ran to my car. </tangent>

so after an hour i check my bleaching hair in the mirror and whoa, i think it worked. so i go and rinse (that’s rench for some of you southerners) my hair out and then i put this uber-conditioner on it for several minutes in hopes that some of the precious oils and nutrients that i’ve so crudely burned from my hair will be replaced, and then i rinsed that out too and there i am with a towel on my head drying off my very short, very blonde hair and i hear this sound…it’s like music. it’s like, club music. in my bathroom.

i jerked the towel off my head. what the…
“what the…” lights are flashing and music is thumping.
omg, there’s a rave going on in my bathroom!
this lady walks by and hands me a blue drink off of a tray, winks and says, “welcome to the club!”
“whuh?.. who??”
the dj is spinnin’ some crazy tunes and people are totally groovin’ to the beat. but this is my bathroom. what’s going on? maybe i hit my head on the sink or something and i’m really passed out on the floor and this is a dream…
so i stopped this guy that was walking by and said, “hey man, where am i?”
he stared at my chest and said, “hey pretty lady, wanna dance?”
“no thank you. how do i get out of here?”
he pointed me toward the door.
i got out of there pronto.

so there i am in my bedroom with the towel in my hand. i’m staring at the towel thinking, “this towel is important. why?” oh yeah! my head is all wet! so i start to dry off my wet blonde head again when all of a sudden i hear someone behind me clearing his throat. huh, dad’s fixing someone’s cabinets…probably just a serial killer or elf or something. *gasp*
i throw the towel off my head and quickly pose myself in a very threatening, very fake ninjitsu stance.

there’s a bell-boy standing behind me holding a box of balloons and a bunch of candies. er. you know what i mean.
“h-how did you…g-get in here?”
“hey sweet-cheeks these are for you from your admirer.”
“what? what are you talking about? where did you come from? did you even knock?…”
then he stares at my chest and says, “bet you have a lot of admirers doncha?”
“what?! hey stop that! my eyes are here buddy!”
“huh? sorry. wanna go for a drink?”
“wufuh? no! now get out!”
he shrugged and left.

while the bell-boy was walking down the front steps my dad pulls up and is all, “wow! your hair ith tho thweet! awethome! ith it true?”
ha ha dad. “is what true?”
“well,” he says, “are you having more fun yet?”
oh god that can’t be…

train of thought derailed i look up and see this guy pulling up in the driveway on a motorcycle.
“ms. pickle?”
“what are you selling?” i ask.
“ha ha. good one! here’s your invitation to the ultra-hip mega party tonight.”
“what are you talking about?”
“i guess i’ll pick you up around eight? wear a jacket ’cause we’re taking my harley!”
“what?! who are you? i’m not-”
“later babe” he said and rode off.

“wow,” dad said, “that blonde hair really makes your eyes stand out!”
“yeah, my eye brows look like black caterpillers crawling very slowly across my forehead.”

so anyway, the last two days have been packed with parties and booze. i guess blondes do have more fun. it’s crazy random fun anyway, i mean, there i was making signs at work right? all of a sudden this dude comes in and says, “hey! wanna do some shooters?”
“what? oh my gosh, you have to leave! i’m at work!”
“psht, let’s just do one shooter? ok? please?”
“kelly! help!”
my boss comes in and is all, “what’s the problem? oh, the blonde thing again?”
i nodded, “yeah. sorry boss.”

anyway it sure was hard getting any work done what with the phone ringing off the hook with guys (and even a few girls) asking me out. sheesh. being a blonde is really tough.

ok so maybe none of that really happened. but that doesn’t mean that blondes don’t really have more fun. in fact, it’s been scientifically proven in this incredibly scientific chart that laura made up for me.


*blue hair as in old peeps with blue hair; not cool peeps with blue hair.
fun has been put into the sonic measurement of decibels because it
seemed like a good idea at the time.

as you can see by the imaginary chart above, people with plain ol’ brown hair have the least amount of decibels of fun. we think this has to do with the brown hair. surprisingly, blue hairs have twice as much fun as the brown haired shemps. i know this for a fact because i have brown hair and it seems like all the old people i come in contact with have at least 2x the fun i have. the black haired peeps seem to have slightly more fun than red-heads, and we think that’s because there are more actual brunettes than true red-heads, most red-heads being brown haired shemps with a monthly dye job.
now looking at the fake chart above we can see that blondes have like, way more decibels of fun than any other color noggin. we don’t know why. all we know is that the chart does not lie. it’s a chart. with numbers. so it must be real.

but anyway you’re saying, “jaimie, i thought you were going to dye your hair that awesome tricked-out pink, yo?”
werd! that’s right! but see, this blonde thing is really funny so i’m going to wait a couple of days before i pink up my hair.
way to pay attention to detail, g!

the toughest part about being blonde so far is that my family and friends have been calling me blondie. and every time i make a mistake they mutter, “dumb blonde.”
hey! it’s only been a couple of days for cryin’ out loud!

i was talking to jimmy at lunch today and said, “wow, with this blonde color and shaggy/spikey cut, i’m like marylin and liza put together! i’m like a gay man’s dream!” he didn’t think it was nearly as funny as i did.

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The One About Wine

Category: weekleez

The One About Wine part I
October 8, 2002

hi kids!

first, some very important news. very, very important news. this news will knock your socks off. then it will steal your socks and bring them to me. then i will have your socks. and you will have the news. and together we will have socks and news.
the weekly. is now. TWO YEARS OLD. OMG!! LOL!! ROTFLMAO!! DERP!

for last year’s weekly birthday extravaganza we (as in, some people i know) gave unto you, the gentle weekly reader, a message board free of charge so that you could all post your own thoughts and opinions. of course, only six of us ever post there. you could be posting there if you wanted to. do it. DO IT!

but this year we’ve gone and done a crazy thing. it’s crazy with a capital Z! craZy!
we have made FLEEGAN T-SHIRTS! there really is a fleegan now! a real fleegan! and it is the cutest thing in the world! and it’s on a t-shirt! a t-shirt that you can buy!

what?! but how?
please, don’t ask us something like that, just be comforted knowing that there are fleegan shirts out there… clothing the world…one person at a time…in soft cotton.

so anyway, next week i’ll have a picture of what these lovely, awesome, totally modcore t-shirts look like and a price, and i’m sure that everyone will want two or three of them (one for yourself and one to give as a christmas present).

Happy Birthday Weekly!

and guess who else had a birthday this week? the world famous Cookie Magoo! she also turned slightly older than two years old! yay cookie!
three cheers of cookie! hip-hip-hooray! hip-hip-hooray! hip-hip-hooray!

well with all of the birthday bonanza and shameless plugging out of the way (t-shirts!) i guess it’s about time for this weekly thing to happen.

Wine.

i’ll admit it, i am intimidated by wine and wine drinkers.
there. i said it.

they are a foreboding lot. they take their drink seriously and they drink it noisily. and also they sniff their beverage. and if they are just tasting wine and not drinking it they tend to spit it out.
in a bucket.
my god, that’s intimidating.
i mean, these sniffing, slurping, spitting people are practically vikings! but they make it all seem so sophisticated and glamourous! and of course i’m picturing these people in horned helmets, furry boots, and expensive Italian suits gulping and slurping and smelling and grunting in the mead hall harrumphing about the politics of the day and, of course, using silverware and charger plates as they discuss destroying the grendel monster.
and now so do you.

quick tangent: when i sit and think about it, it’s really quite amazing how much i think about Beowulf on any given day. i mean let’s face it, that’s one of those things that you’re forced to read in high school and should promptly forget about after taking the test, just like the Scarlet Letter or that play about the kids that fall in love and kill themselves, or that one about the witches in colonial america, man i hated that one.

so these wine drinkers, i mean, they’re hardcore right? and for the most part i stay away from wine and vikings. to be perfectly honest the only wine i consume on a regular basis is the communion wine at church y’know? i mean, it’s not great or anything but i know where they stash it so i mean, free wine! ha ha!
that was a joke.

but the other day a really interesting thing happened which of course, caused a series of odd events to occur which then led to this weekly. like always this thing should be titled “the really craZy thing that happened to jaimie this week”.

so liz says to me, “hey. i’m going to cook dinner for you guys on friday. be there at seven.”
so i says to liz, “ok. i’ll bring the wine.” what? did i just say i’d bring wine? we don’t drink wine. don’t know the first thing about it. why would i bring wine? that’s craZy. maybe i didn’t say wine at all. maybe i said something else. maybe i said Hrothgar or something.
meanwhile liz is saying something, “….great! see you then.”
then i says, “wait! what are we having so i know what kind of wine to bring.” like i would know what kind of wine to bring. she could say anything and i wouldn’t have a damn clue. roasted pteradactyl on a bed of asparugus and sea weed pasta with quail eggs and a salad with a boysenberry vinegrette. i mean, really it won’t make a difference what we eat i won’t have a clue about the wine. did i really say wine? because i was actually thinking mead hall. wine? really?

so anyway we were to have greek chicken with an alfredo pasta, garlic bread, caesar salad and cookies for dessert. i mean, not floreos or anything, bakery cookies from some er, bakery. did i say wine?

so that evening i run out to the grocery store (the only place in town what sells wine) to get the wine. and so i bought some and it was good! ha ha!
yeah, like it’s ever that easy.

so i did the first thing that anyone else would have done. i checked online to see if i could find any sites about wine for rookies. i didn’t find anything impressive. but i did learn that white wine is a chicken wine so i was pretty excited that i had narrowed my choices from 95,000 bottles of wine to about 38,000 bottles. life is so good to me sometimes.

so i went to grocery store #1 and stared at all the bottles. for 15 minutes. i finally just blindly picked two sort of an eeny meeny minee moe kinda thing. then i went back to the car and thought, “hmm, these aren’t the wines i need.” and i sat there for a moment and said, “O God! O most Holy Father! dude, i need some wine. help me. please. amen.”
so then God was all, “jaimie i kept trying to tell you, go to grocery store #2 for the wine.”
and i said, “really? you told me that? i didn’t hear you.”
and he said, “yeah. you were pretty loud with that whole eeny meeny minee moe thing.”
“was i saying that out loud?”
“yeah.”
“sorry.”
“i forgive you.”
“thanks God.”
“your welcome.”

so then i went to grocery store #2 and stood in front of the wine and stared. and stared. and stared. so then i was all, “God, um, i don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, but um, what am i doing here?”
” *sigh* see, that sounds ungrateful.”
“i know i just, i don’t know what wine-”

then this voice from behind, “so, what are you having?”
oh my goodness! god is behind me.
i turn to see God and he’s an older gentleman with a shopping cart filled with light bulbs. i’m not exaggerating. his cart was full of bulbs. heh, so like, how many light bulbs does it take God to screw in? heh, i’m gonna stop talking about God now.

so this old man takes pity on me and starts talking to me about wine.
he says, “whatcha having?”
“chicken.”
“well, they say you need a white wine with chicken, but really, you can drink whatever you like.”
“oh. well, okay.”
“so what wine do you like?”
“er, i dunno. i mostly drink um, other things.”
“not a wine drinker, eh?”
“um, more like vodka.”
“i see. well, i can tell you what my lady friend likes to drink and what i like to drink.”
“oh thank you so much that would be very nice.”
god has a sense of humor, and i’m usually the butt of his joke.

and so this guy (he actually said lady friend) talked to me about wine for a full half hour. it must’ve looked bizarre to anyone who walked by. a blue-haired punk with a wine bottle in each hand talking to an old man with a cartful of light bulbs.
a slice of life.

so anyway i brought 4 bottles of wine to the dinner and we drank them all. and the two that the old man picked out were the best. so now i’ve decided to try all the wine i can get my hands on and make a list of the ones i like so that i can at least have a semi-knowledge of wine that i will drink so that if the occassion ever arises and i’m stuck talking to a wine nerd, i’ll at least be able to tell the nerd what i like and not say, “i drink the vodka not the wine.” (i want a t-shirt that says that)
also, i checked out Wine for Dummies at the library. so pretty soon i’ll be a wine genius. er, or a dummy that has a vague notion of what wine is anyway.

so i bought some more wine last night, but on the way home i realized that i don’t own any wine glasses and i really don’t want to drink my wine out of a coffee cup because that just enhances the “no, i swear i’m not an alcoholic” look that i’m so going for. well, that’s not entirely true, carla gave us some nice wine glasses but they are hand-painted and really nice and they are more for decoration and if i broke one i’d probably cry like a big baby, so i bought some cheap glasses at k-mark. martha stewart of course, but this way i won’t cry if i break one.

so i bought this wine last night and it has a definite black pepper taste to it, which isn’t unpleasant, but for the first 10 minutes i was sneezing my head off every time i took a sip. weird huh? eventually i got used to it. still it was funny. i mean, i can’t even buy wine without something stupid happening to me.

maybe when i write part II of this weekly i’ll actually know the names of the wines that i’ve been talking about. otherwise i would’ve been describing the wines like this:
the pink one.
the one with the baby jesus on it. (it’s german and delicious)
the other pink one, it was pretty good.
the red one that gave me heartburn.
the white one that made me sneeze.

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The One About Signs

Category: weekleez

The One About Signs
September 3, 2002

jaimie: (overly dramatic) jimmy! what am i going to do?!
jimmy: (nonchalanty mixing a drink) about what darling?
jaimie: about what?! about the weekly!
jimmy: the weekly? (stirring) you still do that thing?
jaimie: (to the point of tears) oh jimmy! it’s terrible! just terrible!
jimmy: (slightly aggitated) look i’m sure everything is fine. why all the dramatics?
jaimie: you would say that! you don’t even know what’s going on…
jimmy: (grabs jaimie’s shoulders and shakes her) then tell me! tell me what’s going on!
jaimie: l-l-last w-week’s-s w-w-w-weekly was a-about b-b-boobs!
*SMACK*
jimmy: what?!
jaimie: (crying) and that’s not all…there was a dirty joke too. ricky, waaaaaaah!
jimmy: dirty joke? no. not that cardboard box thing?
jaimie: yes. turns out it was dirty. one of the weeklies sent me a detailed explanation. i feel horrible for it.
jimmy: so it really was dirty?
jaimie: yes! that’s what i’m trying to tell you! last week’s was pure filth! filth!
jimmy: (calming down) ok. so boobs, dirty joke…anything else i need to know about last week’s weekly?
jaimie: um, white girl rap?
*SMACK*
jimmy: my god! what’s happened to the weekly? what has happened to you?!
jaimie: i don’t know! i don’t know!
jimmy: you owe your readers an apology!
jaimie: never!
jimmy: do it!
jaimie: i’ll not apologize for my musings! ever! if i didn’t truly believe in something i’d never write it for all to see! i’ll never apologize for the weekly! *knees jimmy in the groin* ever!
jimmy: weeeeooweeee why did you do that?
jaimie: you hit me twice you fink.

ri-i-i-i-ight. so anyway i recently saw the movie Signs, and by recently i mean, probably 4 weeks ago. it was a good movie so if you haven’t seen it yet you should try to see it, however, if you have any great expectaions of seeing any signs in the movie Signs you’ll be greatly disappointed. i know i was.

when i heard that there was a new movie out called Signs i was very excited. because i mean, there really should be a movie about signs. and then i heard that it had mel gibson in it, and i thought, awesome! i mean, the road warrior making signs! how cool is that? and i thought about how refreshing it would be to get to see a movie about me and what i do! i mean, sure i’m no road warrior, i’m just a weak girl, but i do know about signs. and how cool to finally have someone else respect a signmaker’s work by making a whole movie about signs! finally!

but alas, there were no signs in Signs. i mean, here i am, practically an expert on signs watching a flick that’s supposed to be about signs and wondering the whole time, “where’s the signs all up in this piece?” now i realize that being an expert on signs would probably put me at a disadvantage of enjoying the movie anyway in much the same way as a napoleon buff would not be able to fully enjoy a movie about napoleon because filmmakers always screw something historical up. and while the nap-fan is glad that someone has finally made a movie about napoleon, the buff will usually find something inaccurate about the film and will dwell on that one inaccuracy the whole time and not fully enjoy the film.
yeah, like it’s just me.

but i mean, to call a movie Signs and to not have any signs in the movie, well i can’t tell if that’s pure genius or just lazy. i mean, it sounds half-assed to me. it would be like having a weekly about the word boob and never actually talking about boobs because the writer was too scared to do any research! how lame! i mean, if the only sign in the movie is plastic formed letters that spell out PHARMACY i don’t think that’s any basis for calling the whole movie Signs. i mean, ok, if that’s the only sign in the movie at least tell me how the sign was made. who made it? who installed it? was the customer a moron? what size is it? it looked to be about 18 inch letters to me, but i can’t be sure. what were the pharmacy’s other signage options?

where are the signs all up in this piece?!

well, what the movie lacks in signs it makes up for in retarded aliens. i mean really. ok if i hafta believe in aliens to enjoy a movie that’s fine. but c’mon, if the aliens can travel across the universe to take over our planet, if the aliens are super fast runners and jumpers, if the aliens can shoot poison gas out of their wrists, if the aliens, having not ever lived in a house before, can actually locate an old coal chute that hasn’t been used in 80 years that the people who actually live in the house didn’t really know about that leads to the cellar where the people are hiding, but they can’t break through a wooden door?

A WOODEN DOOR?!
i’m sorry, i just can’t wrap my head around that one. can i believe that a man can have his faith in the lord restored? of course, no problem. can i believe in supernatural signs and wonders? of course, no problem. can i believe that because the little girl had placed many glasses of water around the house that that would save the day? eeeyeah, no problem, although they seemed to have a lot of glasses for a family of four. i mean, growing up it seemed that there were never enough glasses in our house, but other than that no problem. can i believe that the aliens can’t figure out how to bust through a wooden door?
heck, even the brainless, non-talking, moron zombies in Night of the Living Dead (the perfect movie, by the way) figured out how to break through wood! and they were just walking dead humans! i mean, these aliens have harnessed the power to travel lightyears but for some reason earth doors throw them for a loop? get out of here.

all’s i can say is, “where are the signs all up in this piece?”

i think that the movie title is horribly misleading and should be changed to Crop Circles… for real. or maybe Signs. But not like Street Signs or Storefront Signs, like Alien and God Signs. but i can see how that title might be too long. so maybe they should’ve gone with Rural Pennsylvania. or just Corn. i’m fairly certain that corn fields are the scariest places in the world, well that and rural houses covered in zombies, but certainly not wood-weak aliens what melts in water. not cool.

“other than that, mrs. lincoln, how did you like the play?”

i did think it was a great movie. so go see it and tell me how i missed the point of calling it Signs.

laura, the weekly graphic artist of doom, has not yet seen the movie Signs and while pre-reading the weekly asked me to explain more about the wooden door thing even at the risk of a spoiler. well, ok laura. it’s like this. there’s an alien caught in a pantry and it cannot seem to get out. even though you or i could easily take a can of soup and probably wack our way through the door in an hour. i mean hell, the dorr may have opened from the inside for all we know. also, there are some people who hole up in a cellar. it’s not an atomic cellar. it’s an ancient cellar. the aliens cannot seem to figure out that if they were to perhaps find ANY FREAKIN’ TOOL ON THE BLOODY FARM they could probably have the door busted down in no time. these highly intellegent, very atheletic aliens couldn’t find their way out of a wet paper sack and what’s more, they are just the type of aliens who would get themselves trapped in a wet paper sack. this movie would have been 100X better without aliens. keep the god stuff. ditch the aliens. perfect movie. just like Night of the Living Dead.

now then, to more important things…
three mega birthdays! (that i know of) sue “moose” robertson and justin “leetle brahther” pickle and danny “daktari!” wilborn all have birthdays this week! happy birthday you guys!
and a huge thanks goes to alex “p-sy-co-path” beck for helping me out at the sign shop last week. he saved my life.
my lungs and stomach ulcer thank you too.

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