The one about Boobs
August 27, 2002

hi kiddos,

spy club!
lorna b. recently (i.e. two months ago) gave me a talking sumo wrestler. when you slap him, he yells, “i will crush you!” it’s very cool and very worthy of a spy club name! lorna’s spy name is Ms. Rasputin.she’s the booze tester. tatdow!

thanks to all who sent notes to me saying “get well soon” and “stop sending me mail, jerk!” “and who are you? quit stalking me!” you guys are the best!

this weekly is rated R for “Really jaimie, you’re Reaching and it Reeks.” triple R!

about four weeks ago i received an anonymous letter via courier (i.e. liz) and was not entirely sure how to respond to the message and also was not sure how to read the message seeing as how i’ve never learned to read or write. so i had laura read the message to me and then dictated the following weekly.
haha!

so anyway, this unsigned letter told of a reader’s distaste in my choosing to use the word boobs instead of breast when i was talking about how i went to the doctor because my ears were stopped up and instead of the doctor looking in my ears right away, proceeded to smash my boobs as she asked me questions like, “have you had a sore throat?”
welcome to my life.

and then i suppose that the next week i also used the term boobs instead of breast in a different weekly although still referring to the same doctor visit with the stuffed ears and freshly grabbed boobs.
just another day in jaimieville.

it was after this second weekly that i received the anon. letter that started out,
” ‘boobs’ …. 2 weeks in a row with no apology – I think not!”

the letter was very funny and very cool and also dared to ask the question: “how did it become anatomical in usage?” and as sure as my name is laura bentley (i.e. it’s not. it’s jaimie.), i have no idea. i was unsure how to respond to the letter seeing as how i had no idea who to send a response to or really how to formulate a response seeing as how i have no writing skillz or paper. so instead of a direct response i just continued a ‘reign of terror’ if you will, to use the word boob in the weekly for a couple more weeks until last week when i could not find a good place to use boobs without being lame and just throwing boob in there just to be using boob in a weekly. not that that’s ever stopped me before.

personally, i do not find the word boob to be offensive or improper in an informal setting such as a group of friends talking, a lame web site, or any sort of nearly reasearched, hardly well-written article about the “history” of the word boob. however, i would in fact find any word other than breasts to be offensive in some situations like a job interview, doctor’s office, or high school sex ed. class. i do have standards y’know.

also i think it is important to note that boob is usually less offensive than many other terms used to describe breasts. a small list of these terms can be found right here:

hooters
ta tas
melons
fun bags
ganzagas
jugs
tits
marachas
jumblies
knockers

so i do pride myself on not using those words in a weekly when refering to breasts (i.e. boobs). however, the mysterious writer did have a very good question when asking how the term boob started referring to female anatomy rather than the previous meaning of ‘numbskull’ or ‘dunderhead’ or ‘customer’. ha ha i threw that last one in there for a laugh.

now, i would absolutely love to research this topic because i think it’s important that we find the answer to such questions. however, i’m not about to search for boob on the internet as i am quite terrified of what would come back. and it’s not like i can go to the library and ask the ‘brarian, “hey, is there a book called like, The History of Boobs or something?” because i would get kicked out and probably beat up. so i’m really at a loss on how to research this.

so if i had done any interesting research i would have put it in this paragraph here. but as you can see, there was no research done in the name of boob. although i do think that it’s origins are in france. really.
for real.

the mystery writer also brought up a very good point that if the word boob went from meaning an incompetent bird brain to female breast, then surely it will change again and what on earth could it possibly mean in the future? well, the thing is i just don’t know. i mean, who could? but still it’s an interesting question and one that i tried to come up with a funny answer to and couldn’t because if i did make a guess at what it could mean, and it came true, then people would be calling me up all the time wanting me to tell them their fortunes and stuff and i mean really, i gave that up a long time ago.

but the most interesting part of the anonymous letter was the writer’s telling of the first “dirty joke” that was told to said writer:
Q: what is worse than a paper boob?
A: a cardboard box!

AHAHAHAHAAHAhaha what?
i totally don’t get that joke at all. i mean, is it really a dirty joke? i have no idea. i even called my dad and told him the joke and he didn’t get it either.

i suppose that dirty joke actually sums up everything about the word boob. it’s either offensive and “dirty”, or it doesn’t make any sense at all. is that joke really dirty? i’m at a loss here folks…

so anyway i had this customer come in this week and he left his number for me to call when the signs were ready. so i call this number and this old lady answers the phone and so i talk to her and in mid-conversation she went from talking like an old lady to talking like a young puerto rican lady.

look, i’m serious.
freaked me out.

’cause i mean, if you’re talking to someone on the phone and it’s an old lady, you know it’s an old lady. she sounds old.
*old lady voice* “he-el-lo? what’s that ya say? oh. i see-ee signs dearie?”
“yes ma’am i was calling to let mr. smith know that his signs were ready.”
*starts out old* “oh! his signs, eh? well, alright then. *voice change* i guess den i tell him dat hees signs are ready den ogay? i have heem pick up hees signs when he gets back ogay?”
“huuuh uh. yeah, ogay den, i mean okay thank you.”

what just happened?!

 

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OMG! i knew i was wonder woman! i mean, er….
just call me diana. *wink*

The One About Being a Superhero
August 13, 2002

ki hids!

oh the horror. i just had the terrible misfortune of seeing about 20 minutes of the Anna Nicole show on E!. i want to stick my head in a blender and pour boiling lemon juice on it. i feel like i’ve just had my last year of college sucked out of my brain. and i don’t know how to get it back.
i’m fairly certain that not having cable is one of the best parts of my life right now. the horror.

so i guess you guys are expecting another underwhelmingly, nearly funny rant about something that has happened to me recently. well, i’ve led you all on for way too long now. all those exciting and painful things that have happen to me have actually really happened to me. all of that was true. but that’s just one side of the jaimie that you all know as jaimie “insert random sentence here” pickle. the other side of the jaimie is the jaimie that few of you know. the mysterious jaimie, the serious jaimie, the jaimie that they call…uh, well, they call that side of the jaimie jaimie too. it’s all jaimie.

but why two jaimies? what are the differences in the two jaimies? well, those are two very good questions and i think we’ll ask jaimie to answer, jaimie?

thank you jaimie! hi, my name is jaimie and i’m here to explain what the other jaimie is doing a horrible job of explaining. y’see, most of the time jaimie is a normal twentysomething leading a fabulous life and hanging out with her cadre of friends, fam, and security personnel. however, when jaimie isn’t the sweet, popular chick that everyone loves…she’s…a superhero.

a superhero!

i know, it’s hard to fathom that a small, weak, whiny girl like me could be a superhero. and you’re probably wondering if i find myself in dangerous situations all the time. and you’re probably wondering how i manage to keep my cool in these dangerous, fast-thinking situations especially when i can barely contain my rage at customers. and you’re probably wondering how many lives i save on a daily basis and what color my cape is.

well, the truth of the matter is i don’t often find myself in dangerous situations, unless of course you count that time i was stuck in a filthy, underground cave, but let’s not get into that one right now. and i usually don’t um, y’know, fight for uh, like justice and that kind of thing. i don’t usually stand up for the underdog or the uh, guy that’s being picked on. i’m usually more of a pacifist, er wimp. i don’t make this place any uh, safer or anything. and i don’t have a cape, well not one that i wear in public anyway. and really as far as superheroes go i guess that i’m kinda lame but still i’d rather be a lame superhero than let’s say one of the average schmos that i “rescue”.

once or twice a month i find myself swooping down upon a poor unfortunate in need in a dark parking lot (and sometimes not so dark) and jumping off their car battery. this happens to me a lot. because you see, i don’t have a utility belt filled with gadgets and bat-a-rangs, i don’t have a lasso of truth, i don’t even have a chakram. what i do have is jumper cables. and see, i thought everyone carried jumper cables with them, y’know, like how everyone is supposed to have a spare tire? i thought that most people have a set of jumper cables too. apparently i’m the only one. and that makes me the superhero. sometimes it’s a thankless job, and sometimes people really appreciate the help. but i never take any money for helping out these sad sacks, mainly because they never offer me any. but i’d like to think that even if they did offer me money that i’d politely turn it down and say, “no thank you, that’s not my style.” and then i’d wink and drive away leaving only a trail of mystery dust behind. ha ha like i could ever be that cool. it would be more like, “here’s 5 bucks for jumping me off.” and i’d be all gushy, “really!? you’re giving me money?! really? really?! OMG! i can’t believe it! for real? are you sure?!” and on and on until they said, “nevermind” and hopped back into their now running car and drive away leaving only a trail of nauseatingly putrid exhaust behind. *cough cough*

it is kinda cool sometimes because the people i jump off are usually very grateful. i liked it when i had pink hair because some of the people were kinda scared when i’d walk up to them but then i had the jumper cables and they were probably never so relieved to see someone with pink hair…and well, jumper cables.

and there was this one time that my dad and i were doing the yard sale thing as we used to do on saturdays, and as i was walking up this driveway i saw this lady and thought that she looked familiar and was probably a customer and i hope she hadn’t been a mean customer and she looked at me and said, “hi! i was just telling all my friends here about you!” and i was really confused because no one is ever that proud of their signs y’know? and she turns to her friends and says, “she’s the one who helped us out at the hospital last night!” and so dad gives me the “what gives?” look and i say that oh yeah i jumped off her car battery last night at the hospital and i guess i’d forgotten all about it. and he said, “you jumped them off? and you didn’t know them?” and i put my hand on dad’s shoulder and said, “it’s who i am…it’s… what i do.”

so anyway no kidding i jump people off all the time and i’m usually alone when it happens but the other day liz and jimmy were there too! and so there was this lady in the parking lot of the grocery store and she had the hood up and was banging on the battery terminals with a crescent wrench like she was staking down a tent y’know? and really, if it hasn’t worked by then, it’s not gonna work y’know? so i said, “jimmy, if i drive over there will you jump her off?” and he’s all, “what?” and i’m all,” well, i jump people off all the time, but the thing is… i don’t know how to actually use the jumper cables.” and he’s all, “what?”

oh man, and there was this other time that this guy comes in the shop right at 4pm which is when we close y’know? and he says, “well, i guess i got here just in time, eh?” and i really wanted to say, “if you’d have gotten here 10 minutes ago you’d have gotten here just in time.” but no, i was the nice and polite superhero and let him in the shop and it turned out he was some jerk running for office and he really was a jerk too. because he comes in at four o’ clock, all the lights are turned off and i’ve just shut down all the computers and machines and everything and he’s all, “i need some political signs. but i don’t know exactly what i want on them.” and oh my god. so i sit down with him for about 15 minutes and he hated all the ideas i came up with but here he is being a total slug and not coming up with any ideas of his own y’know? i mean, this complete waste of oxygen couldn’t even decide what colors he wanted. i mean, maybe you should sort of have all that decided before you get to the sign shop, y’know?

so anyway the guy is a real jerk and he keeps saying how great he is and he’s really ungrateful and just really pompous and he keeps belittling me and ugh, i had to be super polite and nice. so then he finally leaves and he says something like, “i guess you get to go home now.” or something really stupid like that. and so anyway i start to shut down everything all over again. and he comes back in and says, “can i use your phone, my car won’t start.” and y’see, it was like, the hottest day of the year and i thought ha ha you s.o.b. sit in your hot car and wait for someone to come get you you stupid piece of horse dung. serves you right you disrespectful assjack
yeah, well…i jumped him off too. you didn’t really think i’d let him roast didja? what kind of superhero would i be?! besides it was so cool to see him kiss my ass for having jumper cables.

and then there was this other time and it was wintertime and it was the coldest day of the year and there was this really old man, i’m talking ancient, out in a parking lot and he had the hood up and it was one of those old ford trucks and it was bright orange and in really good condition. and so i pull up and ask the old man if he needed a jump and i think i scared him half to death. unfortunately, he didn’t need a jump. the problem was something weird like it was stuck in gear or something and he was banging on this “thingy” by propping a 2×4 on said thingy and bashing it with half of a brick.

so asked the old man if maybe he could call someone because here’s my cell phone maybe we could get you a ride and get you warmed up. you know, before he dies. but he said that no thank you that he’s not from around here so no one could come help him out. ok so there’s no way i can let this old man stay out here by himself y’know? so i hang out with him for awhile and ask him about his truck because you can tell that it’s well used but in really good condition for a truck from the ’70s. and he tells me all about it and that he bought it new and all this stuff and it was cool to look at the engine because there was so much room in there! you could put your luggage in there! it was kinda funny.

so i’m hangin’ with the old man and he’s still bangin’ away at his shifter “thingy” and i notice that he has on one of those old-man-10-gallon baseball caps. you know the kind. it’s got the mesh in the back and some local tractor company ad on the front? and so you can see the top of his head because for some reason the old men wear those hats on the tip top of their noggins and i have no idea why but anyway. so yeah, i can see the top of his head right? and he’s got like, a paper towel folded on his head and on top of that he’s got a folded piece of…aluminum foil.
aluminum foil.
i… i mean, what i mean is…does he have a sandwich stashed up there? foil? on the head? old man?

then he misses the block altogether and slips his hand and botches this thing and he ends up cutting himself so now i figure he’s old, it’s wicked cold out, he’s bleeding…he’s gonna die. but then something happens and the thing slips back into place and the old man says, “hey! that did the trick!” and super! so i say that hey that’s great now let’s get that thing fired up and get the heat on and here’s a band-aid let me help you get that on your fingers. and he says that i must’ve been his good luck charm and that it sure was nice for a pretty girl like me to try to come and help him and thank you for the band-aid. (that’s right, not only do i have jumper cables, i have band-aids too. and a flash light.)
aw, what sweet ol’ dude.

so anyway, if you want to have fun and meet new people i suggest you keep a set of jumper cables in your car. also if you don’t want to meet new people i suggest you keep up your car battery. and also, if you bang your battery terminals like they’re some kind of huge oriental gong and the car still won’t start, i’ll bet it has nothing to do with crusty terminals, dig? getcha some cables. or wait for me…i’ll be there.

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The One About Buying a Bible and Discovering the Internet
August 06, 2002

hi kids,

gads! august! i’d like to say i’m surprised that it’s august already but since august comes right after july i guess i was expecting it all along! take that, august! i’m so on to you. nyah!
i’m talking to a month. yeah. let’s get this weekly thing started so i can go lay down.

right. so the other day i went to buy a bible. because y’know, i needed a bible. i mean, i have a bible but i needed a smaller bible. because, everyone has that one huge bible but no one wants to tote that thing around, dig? so i decided i should have a smaller bible that i could keep in my bag in case of those occassional exorcisms and/or spontaneous healings.
that was supposed to be funny.

but the thing is (and here’s the thing) i’ve never bought a bible before, never thought about buying a bible before and also never cared enough to ask anyone about how to buy a bible before. so here was my thought:

“i need a small bible. i guess that the bible is considered a book. yes! it is a book! i shall go to a bookstore!”

so i mention to laura that i’m off to the bookstore and she asks what book i’m going to buy and i tell her all about how i need a small bible and she asks which bookstore i was going to and i told her that i was going to the bookstore in the mall because it was the only bookstore i could think of at the moment and she sort of looked confused.

“you’re going to the mall to buy a bible?”
“well, yeah. i guess. i mean, reckon they have bibles at the mall?”
“well, i don’t know but-”
“should i try wal-mart first? i suppose their prices would be better. do they even sell bibles there?”
“i’m not sure but-”
“or k-mart too i guess. maybe k-mart has like a “martha stewart translation” or something and it’s all in pastels and in a wonderful script with recipes interspersed throughout like, john the baptist’s tasty honey locust cakes, and things like that. that would be cool ok i’m off to k-mart i’ll see you later.”
“wait!”
“what?”
“since you’re buying a bible wouldn’t it make sense, now just listen for a minute, wouldn’t it make sense to go to a christian bookstore? i’m sure they have bibles and probably a better selection than say, the mall.”
“oh. yeah. i guess that um, i guess that would be a better idea. gosh, i’ve never been to one. you suppose it’s creepy?”
“probably. but i bet they have bibles.”
“yeah. ok. um. ok yeah. i guess i’m off to…the uh. the christain bookstore. i guess.”
“ok. i’ll see you later.”
“well, maybe the mall would have-”
“jaimie, it won’t kill you.”
“do you suppose they are overly friendly in those bookstores?”
“i don’t know.”
“i bet k-mart-”
“jaimie just go!”
“yeah alright.”

so i suck up all my courage and put it in a thimble and head out to the christian bookstore.
right so i walk in the bookstore and there’s tons of stuff in there. i mean, they sell all kinds of crap in that joint. i figured it would be stuff like books and um, bookmarks y’know? nay! they have crap upon crap in there. coffee mugs, candy, books, paintings, prints, neck ties, cartoons, music, wind chimes, pens, key chains, candles, and all sorts of other stuff that just sits there on shelves and rots. and so i look about the book shelves for a bible, right?
but i can’t find one!

oh my gosh i’m in a bible store and i can’t find a bible! i bet they keep them hidden so that when you come in here to buy a bible you have to look all around at the other books first! shennanigans! this place is so weird! they sell crockpots too! i’ll bet they have shot glasses with jesus on them! oh man, i’m lost. where’s the door all up in this piece? i gotta jet! get me outta here i’m going to screa-

“can i help you?”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAA!”
“excuse me?”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaa…ahem….i was looking for a bible. um do you have any?”
and so this lady looks at me like i’m some idiot or something because who has to ask for a bible in a bible store, right? i’m an idiot! i have bible blindness okay?! i can’t see the bibles for the bibles in front! a bible in the hand is worth two in the-

“they’re over there.” she says and points to a small cave in the corner.
“oh. *gulp* er, in the cave or um, beside the cave?”
“in the cave. here, take this torch. you’ll need it. oh and watch for the booby traps.” (boob! 4 weeks straight!)
“b-b-b-booby traps? in the c-c-cave?” waitaminute cave? oh! “oh no ma’am you misunderstand, i’m not looking for the king james version, i just need a regular bible.”
“oh, in that case it’s the shelf next to the cave, may i have my torch back?”

so i find the bibles and really i thought there would be more. i wanted a huge selection y’know? i wanted many translations and colors; i wanted choices! yeah. no. there’s big, small, black and maroon. i went with small and maroon. and it was one of those bibles where they try to sell you on “personalizing” the bible by having your name “gold leafed” at the bottom. i said no thank you and ran out with my new bible.

one thing i did see when i was in there was the bible for the deaf. wow, deaf people get there own bible how cool is that? so i had to open it up and see what it was all about y’know? and it turns out, now i was totally unaware of this, that deaf people have a hard time hearing what we say reading regular conversation. and so this bible was written in small, easy to chew sentences! i had never thought of that before! and now i can’t stop thinking about it! deaf people have a hard time reading all the things that we read all the time! geezum pete! it’s bad enough that they can’t hear, but now i learn that they can’t walk in the library and go check out the latest and enjoy it because the library carries only hearing books! this makes me very sad.

anyway, back to me.
i go back to work and i plan on making a sticker to put on the front of my bible so that i won’t get it confused with the other small, maroon books i keep around. so i cut out one of the ‘even so’ symbols (y’know, that hip rock band that all the kids are listening to?) in gold leaf vinyl (how cool is that?) and slapped it on the cover and now it looks like a mysterious book of spells or something. so i figure i might need to put the word bible on the cover somewhere too. or maybe holy bible. or maybe mega bible. or jaimie’s uber-small ultra bible deluxe. and then i thought that maybe i’d put the words in a foreign language because that would be more cool than just plain ol’ english. or maybe just a series of numbers.

so i went to the internet and went to flalta flista’s babel fish and started to type in stuff to put on my bible. and it was so much fun! because when you type in a big, long sentence and translate it, it looks cool! and when you translate it back, it looks really stupid! and it made me laugh! so i thought, “what else can i translate?” and i said to myself, “why not translate the first verse of that hit song ‘sucks to be you’ into german! ja?

english:
everyone you cared about,
well they all moved away.
seven days a week it just hasn’t been your day.

auf deutsch:
jeder, das Sie sich ungefähr interessierten,
gut sie alle weggerückten sieben Tage ein Woche es gerade nicht Ihr Tag gewesen ist.

back to english:
everyone, which you were interested approximately,
was not good it every away-moved seven days week it straight your day.

you can imagine my laughing.
but then i thought maybe i should do a more popular song or something. like maybe the pledge of allegiance!

I pledge allegiance to the marking sign of the states of America
and to the republic, for which it stands, to a nation under the God indivisibly with liberty and to the justice for all.

and then i did it to that ultra-mega hit of the ’70s: MacArthur Park.
but it came back making more sense than the original! not!

english: i just left a cake out in the rain. and i don’t think i can make it because it took so long to bake it.
and i’ll never have that recipe again. oh no!

funny: I left a straight cake out in the rain and I think not me can it form,
because it took so long, over it to bake and I have never this prescription again. Oh No.!

isn’t it funny how i started out looking for a bible and ended up with MacArthur Park? if only i could somehow tie it all up by coming back to the part about the bible….

well, it turns out that i couldn’t make up my mind on what words to put on the bible because after a while i wanted to put swear words on it just for shock value, but really, doing something just for shock value is so lame unless of course your name is damien hirst, but anyway i just left the bible alone other than the ‘even so’ symbol and if i had a jpeg of it i’d put it on here so you can see it but hey maybe it’s on the website. go try here: http://evenso.vineyardgadsden.com/
by the way laura, you haven’t updated that site since april. can’t we get some more lyrics all up in that piece or something?

what was i talking about? oh yeah the bible. so then i did this other weird thing because i mean, it’s not like i’m all into buying bibles y’know? or any holy books really. i went to this bible study. i’d never been before y’know? and my mom is like, the teacher or leader or instructor type person of this bible study right? so i figure eh, it can’t be so bad, mom’s cool sometimes y’know? so i go and i sit down and i pull out my new small bible, and i notice that everyone else has their huge bibles with the cheater notes at the bottom and the concordance in the back and there’s me with my tiny ol’ thing and out of nowhere mom’s voice booms, “what kind of book is that?”
“it’s my new bible. i put a sticker on it.”
“oh, well, it looks so, um…evil.”
heh, so i guess it’s shocking enough with just the sticker of the thingy that laura designed for a christain band and i thinks it’s funny that it’s so y’know, mysterious and unsettling. man, i gotta get these christians to lighten up all in this piece.

and in case you hadn’t noticed i keep using the phrase “all up in this piece” i don’t know why, but i find myself saying it a lot at work like, “where’s the work order for that doctor’s office all up in this piece?” or “yo! where’s the paper towels all up in this piece?” and so on.

hey did you guys notice the graphic at the top? ok so the one guy is jesus right? the one with the halo? but like isn’t the other guy like, neptune or something? remember clash of the titans? that’s one of my favorite movies. remember neptune was so boss ’cause he owned the cracken, and the cracken was badass. ew and remember how creepy medusa rattle was? makes me shiver all up in this piece!

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Tags: nerd

The Weekly for Guys who like Weeklies I
July 31, 2002

hi kiddos,

i mentioned last week that every month that has five (5) weeks would be special in that the fifth (5th) week would be a “weekly for guys who like weeklies” where i would rant about guy stuff like guns, sports, and boobs (ha!) (ha ha!) (three weeks in a row!) anyway, i am a day late but that’s because i had to cook last night and also because i’m a lazy slob. we had BBQ chicken.

it was mighty tasty.

when i was but a wee fleegan, we’ll say somewhere in the ballpark of 8 – 10 years old, i wore hats. well, actually i just wore one hat. all the time. really. it was a new york yankees hat. and it was glorious. everyone told me that i would go bald because i wore that hat all the time.
liars!

so anyway as a kid i liked baseball. and of course, there’s only one team worth rooting for and that would be the new york yankees. now since i was rooting for them in the 1980s that makes me a real fan. i’m not some bandwagon world series yankees fan, the yanks sucked in the ’80s and i was their fan. they came in last place in the AL east EVERY YEAR (well, when the tigers didn’t). and i was their fan. and, as a true yankees fan, i hate george stienbrenner and i think we should sack that manager they have now and bring back billy martin!*
i mean, in the ’80s and early ’90s yankees fans caught a glimpse of what it must be like to be a cubs fan.
not! hahahaha! cubs are lame! chumps!

not only did i watch that sport, but i also collected baseball cards. all of this is buddy’s fault. he’s the one who asked. “you like baseball?” and i said, “what’s that?” and it was all over from there. i was hooked.

i know. i’m a girl. and let me tell you, as a girl it was tough to collect baseball cards. well, not really, every saturday morning dad would come home from work and he would have a pack of baseball cards for my brother and me. that was back when there was a stick of bubble gum in the packs. the stalest, nastiest, powedery-est stick of bubble gum in the world. but of course we chewed it, it was gum. also it was back when a pack of baseball cards cost less than a dollar.
i probably couldn’t afford a pack of baseball cards today. i think they tax them like cigarettes or something.

i loved going to the baseball card trade shows. i would save up my money just to buy baseball cards. and now that i think about it, where did that money come from? i have no idea. all i know is that once in a while some unlucky parent would end up dragging my brother, buddy, and me to a baseball card show and i would spend my money on small pictures of guys in hats and tight pants.

now you have to understand, this was before the players had huge million dollar contracts, they only got paid in the hundreds of thousands back then, and darryl strawberry was a damn met and no one really knew or cared that he snorted more cocaine than david crosby and daivd crosby combined (david crosby is a big man. he snorted a lot of cocaine.) and rickey henderson could run really fast. and dale murphy played for the braves, and the braves would lose or win and no one cared. and the padres were still considered a stupid expansion team that no one liked, ok so that hasn’t changed.

the point is…ok there is no point.
anyway, there was no internet back then so if i wanted to know things about baseball i had to go to the library. ok but the thing is, our library, god bless it…no really…god, bless that library, was horribly outdated then (and like the padres, that hasn’t changed much) so i couldn’t read about all the “great” players of the day. all the baseball books were about the players from the 1960s and reggie jackson.

so basically, as a little girl, i read every team and player biography that i could get my hands on and it was then that i decided that that was when baseball was baseball and that mickey mantle was the greatest baseball player to ever live and if only he hadn’t sprained his knee that one time he would probably have beaten every cool baseball record ever made. ok, so i was slightly idealistic back then.

and now i have a gameshow knowledge about 1960s era baseball and mr. october which is totally useless unless i’m on your trivial pursuit team. if you ever need to phone a friend…

after reading all of those books about all of those players i decided that i wanted to have a baseball card of each of the players that i had read about.
ok, a 9 year old girl doesn’t have that much money y’know? but i did pretty well, for a girl. derp! i mean, it must’ve looked funny, a little girl haggling with old men over tiny pictures of guys in hats and tight pants.

i did manage to get a mickey mantle card. and harmon killebrew, willie mays, whitey ford, roberto clemente, roger maris, bob gibson, etc. and i guess that’s pretty cool, for a girl i mean. sandy koufax, casey stengel, catfish hunter etc. the only ones i didn’t manage to get: sal “the barber” maglie, al kaline and stan musial. but who cares? i have a mickey mantle card!

eventually i grew out of collecting the cards and certainly got tired of seeing the yankees lose to teams like the california angels and the toronto bluejays (canada?! lose to canada?! fall on your sword!) so i stopped watching in 1996. of course, that’s the year that the yanks finally won a world series. it just figures.

anyway, baseball has certainly lost it’s magic. i hate it now. it’s just sad to pine for baseball that you never even saw, i mean, for me to say, “wow, baseball just isn’t what it used to be” is incredibly stupid because baseball is exactly what it used to be. i mean, growing up and realizing that you spent tons of money (where did i get all that money?) on little pictures of guys in hats and tight pants, and finding out that your hero, the “commerce comet”, was a drunken wife beater, well, you tend to get a little bitter.

yeah right!
y’see, my mom didn’t throw away my baseball cards! i’m rich!
baseball cards didn’t teach me about simple times when baseball was the great american pastime. baseball cards didn’t teach me about winning, losing, or sportsmanship. baseball cards didn’t teach me that people choose really stupid things for mascots (padres) ie. expos.
nay nay! i learned that baseball has NOTHING to do with baseball cards! i learned that baseball cards are all about supply and demand! investing! money money money!

i learned a million abbreviations like MNT, NRMT, VG, ERR, RBI, FDR, HR, FBI, TV, AL, NL, FREAK etc.

i learned that it didn’t matter that vince coleman or carlton fisk were solid players, their cards were worthless! everyone wanted jose’ canseco. you know what jose’ canseco is doing now? he’s designated hitter for the chisox. lame.
lame! mr. canseco, fall on your sword!

anyway, baseball cards taught me about money, greed, and world series trivia. and that’s a lot of information to take in when your mind is a sponge waiting to be formed and molded by society. y’see, i could’ve either learned to speak fluent spanish, play flawless piano, or memorize all the borders of Topp’s baseball cards.
sigh.

*billy martin has been dead since christmas 1989. but i figure if they plan on freezing ted williams (and why? why?! so maybe he can play on the 2075 retired ballplayers all-star team with johnny bench? no. it’s so when they wake him up again he can go back on his trade show circuit signing autographs for $40 a pop. see, it’s all about the money.) they can dig up billy and put a jacket and cap on him and of course robotize him, and have him sit in the dugout. and when the blind ump makes a bad call send out the bionic billy and watch as he kicks dirt at the ump’s shoes. and when the ump throws cyber-billy out of the game, watch as the robo-billy grabs the ump in a cyber-chokehold…

also, i never really understood why everyone got so upset when rosanne barr-arnold sang the anthem. i mean, it was rosanne. and hey, can we get some love for pete rose? by gones you guys… he’s really sorry. as for margie shotz, we’ll let cyber-billy handle her.

did someone mention links? no? good! here they are!
professor zim wants one of these: http://www.plustech.fi/Walking1.html because he’s a guy. only guys like stuff like that.
he also sent a link about food but more importantly there was a link that answered the question “what on god’s green earth is a pawpaw?” as in, “way down yonder in the pawpaw patch” and cripes, i’ve been wondering that for years and so maybe you were too. go here: http://www.pawpaw.kysu.edu/KSUstory.htm of course all the info came from kentucky so…

and the faithful atheist created a weblog and you can go read all about it http://faithfulatheist.blogspot.com/

jimmy sent one in about bum fighting where some sick monkeys give bums money and the poor homeless people do stunts and fight each other, but the link didn’t work. damn. there’s a bit of sick monkey in me that would like to see that.

and now for the coolest thing in the history of the weekly:

wisconsin wendy has sent the good word out that the U of WI at MAD derp! has once again grown one of those horrible, stinky, giant flowers! (i gagged about it last year too) someone needs to tell those botonists that there are other huge, stinky incredible phallic flowers out there…er, or maybe not. anyway! go here http://titan.botany.wisc.edu/refresh.html to see the webcam! and maybe you’ll see wendy! you and all your friends can play Where’s Wisconsin Wendy! i’ll give you a hint… she’s in wisconsin!

OMG! look what wendy did! she turned her back to the webcam for me! she is so cool! she owns the spy club!

this is actually wendy. and she actually wrote on a shirt. and she actually is the coolest!

next weekly for guys who like weekleez: is it just me, or does basketball season seem to last 14 months out of the year?
next week’s epitomb: weddings! i hate them!

jaimie “hank aaron eats monkey boogers” pickle

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Tags: baseball, wisconsin wendy

The One About Kate & Leopold
July 23, 2002

hi kids,

right, so anyway this weekly isn’t the one i was originally going to send. you see, i had written one sort of about baseball (but not really, but yeah kind of) and i was going to send that one but i was not sure how many of you actually give an owl’s hoot about baseball plus with the impending strike coming up i didn’t want you guys to think that i pay attention to current events dealing with sports or that i’m trendy.

so i ran the baseball weekly through a “test”.
i had laura read it.

i figured that if laura, who hates sports and trend, read it and was entertained then it would be ok to send the weekly and maybe i wouldn’t get too much hate mail for the weekly being sad, unfunny, or about sports. laura said that she liked it even if she didn’t know what a pete rose was. great! tatdow! booya! i wrote the weekly three days in advance! i. am. trend!

but then i made a grave mistake. i also told her that i was sort of pondering the idea that every month that had a 5th tuesday would be special and on that 5th tuesday i;’d write a “weekly for guys who like weekleez” where i write (make fun of) guy stuff like cars, guns, boobs, sears etc. (2 weekleez in a row i said “boobs”!) i kid, i would never do a weekly on boobs.

anyway laura thought that that would be a great idea and seemed to really like the thought of a theme every now and then and i must say that i like the idea if only to give me a little more structure at times. but also i think she might have liked the idea just so i would have to write another weekly.

so this week, instead of getting to read a nearly well-thought out, slightly themed weekly, you get another random, rambly one about stupid things that fortunately have nothing to do with my ears, rashes, or doctors feeling me up. what can i say? it was a relatively painless week.

we all know that i have poor taste in movies, right? well ok, that’s not entirely accurate, let me start over.
we all know i hate movies, right?

i’ve become a crotchety old woman in my young age that can’t stand movies. i think it has something to do with the idiots who make the movies not being ablt to tell a story in less than 2 hours. that just irks me to no end. i mean, occasionally they slip up and make a good one, minority report for instance.

WARNING: this weekly contains spoiler for the lame-set horror, and by horror i mean horrible, flick of the year kate & leopold. so if you haven’t seen that movie (don’t) and don’t want to know how it ends with him getting hit by a streetcar. then don’t read this. also, it does not end with him getting hit by a streetcar, but i wish that it had because at least it would have been a satisfying ending.

so anyway laura was watching kate & leopold the other day because she’ll watch anything once (and blade runner twice) and jimmy, liz and i walked in from swimming or something and took one look at what was on the screen and asked, “is it any good?” and laura went into a tirade about how stupid it was and so we all sat down to watch the rest of it. and after 15 minutes of watching i excused myself to go slit my wrists and sit in a bathtub and by that time laura shouted, “they have no chemistry! he would never fall in love with her! she’s a bitch!” and liz said something to the effect that no one in the movie seems to really like each other and how did he end up in the future which is actually our present and out of his present which is of course our past? laura did not answer but jimmy then voiced his problem with the movie by asking, “so when is wolverine gonna start kicking some ass?” and that’s when i told them that i would be in the bathroom with the razor blades.

then the movie ended and i sort of shouted at the screen because at the end of this eternally stupid waste of film kate (the girl) goes back in time to be with leoplod (the boy) (and yes i do mean leoplod). well that’s it. i quit movies. i woke up from my drooloing stupor to scream, “what dumbass guy wrote this piece of garballyhargbarg? that’s not how it works, ever! don’t they know?!” and jimmy said, “know what?” and i said, “the girl never goes back in time.” and jimmy looked at me like i was crazy and so i said, “laura, does the girl ever go back in time?” and laura agreed that nay, the girl never ever ever never goes back in time. and jimmy thought we were quite insane and wanted to know why the girl never goes back in time and we proceeded to tell him. liz said that she had never thought of it before. but i think after hearing our supreme knowlege on why the girl never goes back in time she agreed that, well, to be quite redundant, the girl never goes back in time.

and to all of you movie writers out there:
ten (9) reasons the girl never goes back in time.

10. the most obvious reason, childbirth and other girl stuff. i wouldn’t have wanted to be pregnant in the ’60s much less the 1860s. i mean, when the only pain relief is biting down on a stick, well, i’d rather open a sack full of dead cat in a restaurant.

9. no showers, shampoo, conditioner, hair gel, spray, mousse, dental care, hygiene of any kind etc.

8. clothes. if you’re rich it’s big poofy dresses all the time. if you’re poor it’s rags. dirty rags. no jeans.

7. plagues and smelly feet.

6. no plumbing no shaving legs no #6.

5. you know more then the doctors of that time therefore you are a witch and will be burned.

4. let’s say you go back in time, and you know things that the people of that tiem don’t know, and you try to warn them of those things… no one will listen to you because you are a girl. and when those things happen the will find you and burn you for being a witch.

3. no vote. no rights.

2. you won’t know how to dance those fancy dances. plus the music for those dances are like, the same song over and over (like the goo goo dolls) and since you can’t dance they will assume that something is wrong with your upbringing and they will assume that your mother was a witch and that makes you the offspring of a witch and since they shoud’ve killed you when you were a wee babe they will surely want to kill you now since you are of course, a witch.

1. you will end up barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, and you won’t have a clue as to how to cook anything because there are no GE appliances, the water is outside, and all of a sudden you have to pluck the chicken and skin the meat and you’ve never seen emeril do that, and you’ll get in trouble and probably beaten for being a bad wife, and when you fight back because of that self-defense class you took before you were an idiot and went back in time and you kick that man’s ass you will then be captured for being strong-willed, and they will say you are a witch and they. will. burn. you.

and that is why the girl never goes back in time.

so take that kate&leo! ah, but what do you expect from the moron who brought us copland and oliver and company? i dunno, i guess i’d expect sly stallone and a bunch of singing cats. at least that plot would have been plausible.

if for some reason you find the overwhelming urge to watch kate & leopold i suggest you keep a claw hammer close by, just in case.

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Tags: movies

The One About Jaimie’s Ear Wax Adventure
July, 16, 2002

hi kids,

and welcome to jaimie’s pity party! remember when the weekly used to be funny and slightly informative? or at least creative? when did it all of a sudden turn into The Stupid Thing That Happened to Jaimie This Week? unfortunately, this week is no different. this week’s Stupid Thing That Happened to Jaimie is a little story that i’d like to call “Jaimie’s Ear Wax Adventure” or JEWA for short.

it all started over the long fourth of july weekend. i think i spent the equivalent of 3 days in the pool and the rest of the time was either mixing/drinking/more mixing booze. a holiday if you will. a well-deserved holiday i might add.
anyway, JEWA started on the second day because that’s the day i went under water, y’see i don’t like going underwater or getting my hair wet but it was a holiday and if you can’t get your hair wet on a holiday when can you, right? so i go underwater and when i come back up my ear is of course, filled. aw derp.

so now i can’t hear out of my right ear. it’s really annoying. and you might think that if the right ear goes out that maybe the left ear would try to pick up some of the slack of the right ear but no. the left ear is a lazy slob. this makes doing everyday things like listening to music, talking, trying to communicate with other human beings very difficult. because what really happens is that the lazy left ear gets even lazier! that’s right! the left ear decides that since the right ear isn’t working that he shouldn’t have to work either and hearing then becomes a challenge. so when someone is talking to me i have to turn my lazy left ear in their direction to barely hear what they are saying. also, white noise like computer hums and airconditioning become even louder and drown out all “important” noise like voices, sirens and the ring of line two at work.

also it means that when i talk i can’t tell how loud i’m talking. now, i’ve been talking for years y’know? i should know how to talk even if one ear goes out, right? yeah. right. so i talk and it feels like i’m talking normal, but actually i’m talking very, very quiet. and no one can hear me. and i can’t hear them. so all my conversations that week are like Abbot and Costello skits.

by sunday night i’m going crazy and clawing at my ear like a madman (or is it madwoman? madperson?) as if that would somehow help. for future reference scratching, pulling, tugging, shaking and cursing will not help relieve any problem dealing with the ear. now this is really serious. i really cannot hear. really. it’s awful.

so monday brings with it another work week and my ear is still bollixed and of course part of my job is answering the phone and as if answering the phone all day isn’t bad enough when both ears work it’s 7.3 times worse when you’ve only got one workable ear. i must’ve written down 20 wrong numbers and names on monday alone.

now, i don’t know much about ear science, but i do know that there’s a “thingie” in the ear called an ear drum (tympanic membrane) and then there’s 3 small bones also floating around in there and i think they are the stirrup, anvil, and of course the hammer, everyone loves the hammer, it’s like the most popular ear bone. also there is a tiny blacksmith that lives in there and i think he makes the lucky horseshoes.

by tuesday i’ve realized that there cannot possibly still be water in my ear because water just doesn’t not (double negative but i think it works here) come out of the ear unless it is blocked by an anvil or something and by “or something” i mean “oh gross, i’ve got some serious build up in there” and by “build up” i mean “ear gorp”. so i bought an EAR WAX REMOVAL SYSTEM. and by “system” they mean “some drops and a syrenge” but you know, they have to make it sound complicated. system. sheesh.

so i system my ear and nothing. not a thing. and wednesday, thursday, friday i’m deaf in one ear. it’s driving me crazy. so i finally breakdown and go to the doctor. but it’s friday afternoon and i can’t get in to see my regular doctor so i drive over to the local “doc in a box” hoping to get in pretty quick so’s i can hear again.

ok so we do all the signs for this doctor place y’know? and my boss knows one of the ladies that works there and she’s all, “let me call ahead and tell them you’re on your way and they’ll see you quickly!” and i say that maybe she shouldn’t do that because the girl that works there usually calls out here when they need something and i always answer the phone and i get the idea that she doesn’t like me very much. call it a hunch, but when i answer the phone and she says, “listen, is there anyone else there i could talk to?” well, i get the feeling that we aren’t very good friends. we’ll call her “shelly” ’cause that’s not her name.

so i get to the doc in a box and this lady at the front says, “are you jaimie?” i nod because i can’t hear her but i’m pretty sure she said, “hot enough for ya?” so i go to sign in and my name is already there! an imposter! i point to my name and say either very softly or quite loudly (how the hell would i know?) “that’s me!” and the lady says, “are you the one who called shelly?” and i shake my head to the negative because no, i don’t have an appointment. “i’ve never been here before” i tell her. she looks at me like i’ve grown a third eye (and maybe i have) and she asks, “are you jaimie?” i nod and say, “blue cross blue sheild.” she stares. i stare. i hand her my driver’s license and insurance card and she looks at them, nods, and hands me a clip board of paperwork and says, “shelly said to get you in fast. so fill that out and we’ll see what we can do.”
wow, shelly comes through for me!

i fill out the medical sheets and turn them in and the lady gives me back my cards and i go and sit and watch TV. and i mean watch, because i can’t hear what is going on but i know it has something to do with a policeman hitting some guy because that’s what was on the screen over and over and over. and for ten minutes or so i sit and watch this guy punch this other guy and think to myself (or maybe i said it out loud, i’m not sure anymore) “what kind of jerk tapes an arrest?” because by then i’m completely desensitized to the image, thank god. and i notice that everyone in the room is staring at me. then i notice that there is a repetitive noise coming from the back of my head which i now realize is the lady saying, “jaimie? jaimie? jaimie? jaimie?! JAIMIE?!” i turn and say, “i’m sorry. i can’t hear very well.” and she loudly says, “shelly called and said that you should go to our other location because there’s no one there and they can see you faster.” i nod. she says, “you do know where our other location is right?” and i say, “attalla?” and she says, “alabama city” and i nod and say, “attalla.” and she says, “have a nice day.”

so now i have to drive 20 minutes to alabama city and when i get there of course there’s a roomful of sick people and i mumble to myself, “shelly tricked me” and everyone turns and stares. so maybe i said that out loud. it’s hard to tell. so i walk up to the lady at the window and we pretty much have the same conversation as the other lady and i have to fill out the same paperwork all over again. and it strikes me that stuff like this (read: stoopid things) happens to me on a weekly basis. and i know this to be true because you guys read about it once a week.

so i finally get to see a doctor! and she looks in my “good” ear and says, “i can’t see the ear drum.” and i say, “it’s the other ear that i can’t hear out of.” and she looks at my third eye for a minute and then checks out my other ear and says, “we’ll have to clean them both and then check them out.” and she proceeds to ask me questions like, “do you have any outer ear pain? how long have you had this? any sinus trouble? headaches?” and while she’s asking me these questions she’s grabbed my head with both her hands and squeezed it, poked my neck, pinched my chin, squeezed my shoulders, and pressed on my boobs. the last part kinda freaked me y’know? so i say quite nervously, “it’s my right ear!” and she looks at my thitd eye again. so she sends in the nurse to irrigate my ears.

the nurse said, “we’ll start with the left ear since it’s not the one that has the problem.” i say that maybe we should start with the bad ear so we can make sure i can hear out of that one before we tear up the other one. she stared at my third eye.
i’ve really gotta check out a mirror when i get home.

so the nurse starts shooting water into my “good” ear, over and over and over until my shoulder is drenched. nothing comes out of that ear. the only thing that happens is that i can no longer hear anything out of that ear. it’s now just as useless as my other ear. and the nurse looks at it and says, “oh, blargyfeebleha mowbleem.”
“i can’t hear anything now,” i say. her mouth starts moving again.
“i really can’t hear anything,” i say and by now i’m quite panicked. she nods and starts on the other ear and shoots that stuff in there over and over and all of a sudden i can hear! it’s horrible and glorious at the same time!

“hey wait!” i shout. “i can hear now!” and she checks the ear and says, “there’s still some stuff in it. i have to keep doing this ’til it’s all out.” so she attacks my ear again and again and once again i can’t hear anything. it’s horrible and horrible at the same time and i swear i almost cried. then she stuck a pointy thing in my ear and scraped my brain and boy did that hurt. but still no hearing. none. scary. sad.

the doctor comes back in and it’s weird ’cause she calls me “little one” and apologizes for not being able to help me and she starts telling my all of this stuff and i can barely hear her and it doesn’t matter anyway because i am already feeling sorry for myself and wondering how weird it’s going to be to drive home and how long i’ll be without both ears and oh my god i have to play bass tomorrow night and how on earth will i be able to do that with the drums playing and it’s hard enough to hear liz’s guitar and vocal i don’t need this right now dear god i’m sorry for taking my hearing for granted please heal me is it even legal to drive like this i’m dizzy what’s the doctor saying doesn’t she realize i can’t hear her?
“i can’t hear you.”
“oh! i’m sorry! i’m writing to a prescription for some ear drops and an anti-biotic in case there’s an infection and come back so i can feel your boobs in ten days.”
“what?!”
“we’ll see how you do in ten days!”

so i leave and honestly, i’m crying. i cannot hear and now both ears hurt. it’s sad. and i go and pick up my prescription. and i get two bottles of ear drops, and a bottle of antibiotics and i give the pharmacist a check for $140 dollars and i get out to my car and cry again because that’s wiped me out and now i’m mad as hell and deaf to boot. how pathetic. but i pull myself together because i’m supposed to go to brimingham tonight to hear a friend play guitar at some coffee shop and well, how stupid is that? i can’t bloody hear! but y’know i gotta be supportive and i’m going out with friends and so i’m sure i’ll have a great time.

so we drive down to b’ham and it’s pouring rain and we all know my luck with parking lots and pouring rain right? yeah, well deja vu. it’s downtown and there’s no close parking places and so i realize that i’m going to get soaked and the parking lot is of course, flooded. and i, of course, am wearing my hippie shoes and it doesn’t matter. the point is that by the time i get to the coffee shop, i’m still deaf and soaking wet. my pants now weigh 40 pounds and my socksnshoes are as wet as they can be. also i’m madder than f*$#&@! hell. so i glosh my way to the bathroom and lock the door hoping against all hope that they have one of those hot-air hand dryers.
of course they don’t.
my anger becomes a tangible object. i become explosive. i am superfly TNT; a mushroom cloud ready to explode everytime i feel my feet squish. and as if that isn’t enough, as if being deaf and soaked isn’t enough penance for some evil sin i’ve committed at some point in my young life, the shirt i am wearing, which technically is only soaked on the left side, starts to shrink.
THE LEFT SIDE OF MY SHIRT SHRINKS.
the left sleeve is now wrapped tightly around my arm. the right sleeve hangs loosely, just like a sleeve should. i am a deaf, wet, poorly dressed freak. it looks like i’ve misbuttoned my shirt. it looks like i’m a total dork. isn’t this just ridiculous?

with the fuse to my anger now lit i then exploded into a thousand-gazillion pieces. it wasn’t pretty. i immediately blamed god for everything, and proceeded to call him everything but god, lord, and dj jazzy christ, which is just a little nickname for god that he lets me call him sometimes. after the name-calling purge i became very tired and dejected. i grabbed some paper towels and dried myself as best as i could. poor pitiful jaimie.
i went back out and sat and froze and squirmed in my wet clothes and tried to enjoy the music which i could not hear and drink the extra strong coffee that i could taste and surprisingly did not spill all over me. and for me not to spill something is just bonus.

next day we had a gig and it was outside and i was still deef. also it was in the evening and it got dark and there were no outside lights and i soon was unable to see. isn’t this just hilarious? that deaf, dumb, and blind kid could play pinball but not me. nay nay. and you would think that playing the same instrument for 3 years or so that i’d be able to play in the dark. and maybe if i was playing guitar it would have been easier, but i was playing bass and the frets are farther apart and it’s awkward but wait, my bass doesn’t have frets, i have no idea where my fingers are on the fret board, but not that it matters as i have no idea where we are on the song because i can’t hear. talk about a sticky situation! har har har.
i wasn’t booed off stage though. bonus!
actually, lots of people said we sounded the best that we’ve ever played, so i guess at our next gig i’m going to wear earplugs and put a cardboard box over my head. i’ll draw a funny face on it. heck, i’ll draw four funny faces on it so i can change it uo every set. it’ll be a gimmick and we’ll become famous! bonus!
maybe when we’re famous i can afford some ear transplants.

actually my ears are getting better. and heck, for $140 bucks they ought to, y’know? and after a week and a half of ear problems you would think i would be alotted a break from physical maladies wouldn’t you? but as i sit and type this i am trying my best not to scratch at my face, neck, ears, and shoulders, because y’see, i’ve had an allergic reaction to something and now i’m pink and itchy. bad itchy. so itchy that i’m swallowing boxes of benedryl every four hours and have become a zombie. slow, hard of hearing, itchy zombie. i’m sure there is a lesson here to be learned, but the zombiedryl has blocked the synapses to my thinking cap and i can hardly type this without slurring my speech.

maybe next week will be better, yeah?

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The One About “Non-profit” Organizations
July 09, 2002

hi kids,
did we all have a good forth of the july? hmm?
i did, the only battle scar being the gallon of water that is now residing in my ear. it’s driving me bonkers. not only can i not hear anything out of my right ear but it also feels like there’s a pearl in it. or a golf ball. or a small volkswagon. driving me crazy.
it’s my phone ear y’know? so when i answer the phone i’m a moron and say, “hello? hello? anyone there? hello?” before switching to my good ear. moron. i know.
did i mention it’s driving me crazy? i’m sitting here in a quiet office (makes no sense to turn any music on, i can’t hear it anyway) and i can hear myself breathing in my head. it’s so annoying! i’ve got darth vader in my brain breathing. loud and hollow. darth. vader. hole.
i am three phone calls away from jamming an ink pen in my ear.

but enough about me, on to the weekly, which is of course, all about me.

one thing i really hate doing is work for non-profit organizations. doesn’t that make me sound like a heartless bitch? i know. you’re saying, “but jaimie! how can you feel that way? you must be a terrible person! heartless bitch!”

well, i may be heartless, but have you ever done anything for those groups? if so, then you pro’ly know what i mean and if not then you must be pretty lucky. you’ll get yours. probably in the form of jury duty. mwa-hahahahaha!

ok. there’s a local arts kinda place here in town and it’s actually a kinda cool place you know? so when they wanted us (sign shop) to do stuff for them i was kind of excited because i like that place and of course i would want to help them out. and they are non-profit and are working with a limited budget so can you help us out they ask. and all they wanted was some vinyl letters for a door. a very simple thing. of course we can help you out. we are the sign shop with the heart of gold. and we gave them a deal. such a deal i give these people. and i even went on my lunch break to install the letters. because i’m that nice.

so then they wanted more stuff. and they remind me that they are a non-profit orginization and working with a limited budget so what’s our price? remember: limited budget.yes, we’ll take it. can you be here tomorrow to install?
“tomorrow?! you’ll be lucky to get it next week.”
we need it tomorrow because our special artsy thingy is tomorrow night and we need it up by noon so that we can be as inconvenient to the sign shop as possible.
“ok, but next time give us more notice. we’re always a couple days behind.”
“sure!”

so then a couple weeks later they call wanting more stuff and remember: limited budget! and can you install it tomorrow? but the thing is they hadn’t yet paid for any of the other stuff we had done, even though we had given them a cheaper price and had installed it at their convenience. so my boss had to remind them that they owed us some moolah and fat chance of us installing anything until we had been paid for the other stuff first.
“oh! certainly! i’ll talk to the treasurer and the check will be in the mail today! i promise! and oh yeah, can you install it tomorrow?”
“i can install it tomorrow if you order it last tuesday.”
“what? i don’t need it tuesday. tomorrow is friday. i need it by noon.”
“yeah, i know. i’ll just skip lunch tomorrow so that i can be at your place to hang the banner that i’ll have to make on my lunch break today so that you can have your banner at a cheaper price because of your “limited budget” tomorrow.”
“great! we’ll see you tomorrow! remember: noon!”
like i could forget.

other than the total inconvenience factor i like doing work for this place. however, they have become one of those places that only pays their bill when they need something else and i gotta tell ya, i absolutely hate places like that. and i really do like this place. really. it’s just that they have no concept of time, other people’s time, or how to pay their bill on time. i guess what i really hate is being treated like a schmuck. like i’m not going to notice that they have an outstanding bill of $200? and they want to order $150 more and they want it installed tomorrow?
it gets kinda old.

oy, and then the boy scouts called. they needed some signs for their annual jubilee or rally or whatever and of course they’re all, “hi. the boy scouts need some signs, but we have a limited budget, is there anyway we could get the signs for free or at a discounted price?” oh sure. why not? it’s the boy scouts. they tie knots and help old ladies cross the street why not throw a coupla signs there way? the sign shop with the heart of gold.

and of course there’s the boys and girls club and that’s really the only charity that we like doing things for because they are so appreciative and they are so polite and just really great people. and i’d help them anytime. a little appreciation goes a long way, also, when they need banners and such they call a month ahead of time. because they understand the concept of time. they are good people.

and there’s about 95,000 churches that we make signs and banners for and of course they beg for a deal (and always get it because you know, you never know which of those churches god goes to and you don’t want to make him mad because he’s god and he knows all the prices) because you know, non-profit/limited budget and all that. although there are some churches around here who not only make a profit but have more money than god himself.

another local “charity” that i hate to get a phone call from is the local radio station. gads, is there nothing worse? not only do they always want something nearly impossible, like say for instance, life-size caricatures of their lame-ass dj’s but of course they are working with a “limited budget” and can we swap the work for advertising? and if not, can we swap the work for, oh i dunno, a couple of movie passes and some coupons for a free cheeseburger from sonic? oh and here’s a t-shirt with our logo all over it that we had made from a local print shop who traded us the shirts for free advertising, see their logo on the sleeve? we’ll swap you the banners and put your name on the sleeve too and here’s a free movie pass. can we have it tomorrow?
never, NEVER do work for a radio station. NEVER.
trust me on this. i would not lie to you. your life will be much happier if you NEVER do work for a radio station.

and another group that always wants something for nothing is the VFW and other veterans groups. and geezum pete, you gotta help out the veterans or else you’re a communist, y’know? and on a completely unrelated note (in the weekly? no way!) a trucker came in to the shop the other morning and proceeded to tell me (not that i asked) that the socialists in this country have ruined this country and are going to destroy it and that FDR started this country going downhill and that those liberal socialist environmentalists have ruined everything. this guy delivers steel and he’s giving me a lesson on his political theory of which i’m sure he thinks that i need and want to know. i mean, it’s not even 8:00 in the morning.
why is it that my mornings are filled with insane people?

so then last week this lady from the girl scouts comes in and of course they want something for nothing and they need it next week and so what kind of deal can we give them? so i ask them if the boy scouts had ratted us out and she freaks out and tells me that the boy scouts and the girl scouts are two totally different organizations that have nothing to do with each other and she really wishes that people would not associate the two as being part of the same oganization and can you believe that people think that all the time i mean, really. and she restates that the girl scouts have nothing to do with the boy scouts. so i ask her if the boys have cooties and she once again asks me what kind of deal we can give her because of her “limited budget” and all. so i give her a price and “oh that’s much too high, can you do any better?” and that really irritates me y’know? i mean, i try to give the girl scout lady a deal and she acts like i should give it to her for free because she’s with the girl scouts and how could i not give it to her for free when the girl scouts provide so much for society? then she insists on paying us in cookies. “ok, i’ll pay half that and the rest in cookies ok? what flavor do you want? i have peanut butter.”
ok fine lady, just leave before i throw my lunch at you.because of course, the lady comes in at lunch time to haggle.
the sign shop with a heart of gold. and a cold lunch. and a continuing distaste for non-profit orgs.

gads, and then the politicians come around begging for a deal and oh my gosh. some of the rudest people i have ever dealt with were people running for office. and that really surprised me y’know? ’cause let’s say for instance that you’re running for office, wouldn’t you be as nice to every little person you met? and let’s say your getting eleventeen hundred signs made from a sign shop in your disctrict, wouldn’t you assume (uh oh) that the little peon making your sign would also be a voter? and let’s just say, that as a political wind bag running for office, wouldn’t you want to be a nice person to the little voter in charge of making your signs? i mean, not overly nice or anything, just polite and respecful and not a total assjack.

you would be surprised at how rude some of these people are, or maybe you wouldn’t. i was. but that’s just me and my heart of gold being naive. and there was this old man that came in and he was actually really nice. and he told me that if he gets elected he’s going to make a difference. and i asked him if he wanted that on his signs and he said that no he just wanted me to know that he is an honest man and plans to bring honesty back to city politics andwould sure appreciate my vote. and i told him that he had a good speech there but that as i’m not in his disctrict it really didn’t matter ’cause i couldn’t vote for him and he went on to insist that he was an honset man and would he do the city some good and i said that i’m sure he would and told him the total price of his signs to which he asked that if he paid with cash would we not charge him sales tax?
i’m sure he’ll fit right in with the rest of the city’s politicians, don’t you?

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Tags: sign shop

The One About Wayne Newton
June 25, 2002

hi kids, click me.

first of all i have a spy club name to dole out! woo hoo!
nathan “link master” mccurley recently gave me an evil rubber ducky, a plastic eel, a chinese paper fan with sumo wrestlers on it and a skeleton with a smiley face head. a menagerie of freakish things. i love them all of course, but the evil rubber ducky seems to be my favorite! nathan’s spy name is Professor Zim. he gets to be the computer geek and RPG specialist for the club. go nathan! it’s your birthday!
dan, you’ll get yours next week. calm down.

right. so the other day i was watchin’ the tube and i can’t remember if it was a show, movie, or commercial but that’s not important, what is important is that wayne newton was on the screen for like, 5 seconds or however long it was for me to find the remote and change the channel back to something more appropriate like cartoons, and i remember thinking something like, “wayne newton is so cheesy i just don’t understand hey! bugs bunny! yay!”

and then i thought wow, what is cheesy really? i mean, someone says, “that’s cheesy!” and i know what they mean but how do i know that? because really, cheese is this tasty thing that i put on snack crackers and if flabisco would toss some moolah my way i’d write The One About Snack Crackers but alas i have no corporate sponsors at the moment. but really, that’s not important, what is important is that when something is said to be cheesy it is generally understood to mean that said thing is uncool, lame, and perhaps in some situations, a bit mawkish.
like wayne newton.

and while i was watching bugs bunny “cut” elmer fudd’s “hair” i thought about if i were wayne newton it might make me sad to know that some people think that i, wayne newton, a cultural icon, am cheesy. and as weird as it may seem wayne newton is a cultural icon. well he is!

however, wayne newton’s cultural icon-ness is not what’s important, what is important is that let’s say that i’m wayne newton, which i’m not, but this is strictly hypothetical so let’s say i am wayne newton and i (wayne newton) am surfing the internet and i come across some moron’s website and this moron has written a whole article about how i, wayne newton, am cheesy and totally not worth watching as long as there are bugs bunny cartoons on.

ok, now let’s assume (uh oh) that i, wayne newton, am semi-intelligent. i’m probably not going to give a rat’s about what some moron has to say about me (wayne) because i, (that’s mr. newton to you) am very rich and famous and the moron (which is also me. not the wayne newton me but the sarcastic pickle me) is a lowly sign maker in the grand state of alabama.

but that’s not what’s important.
the important thing is that while i was pretending to be wayne newton finding out that people think i’m cheesy, i kinda felt mad that someone would look at me and see cheese. i mean, i have a whole body of work that speaks for me! i’m an entertainer! i am easily recognized nationwide! i’m wayne freakin’ newton! i play a small and dying role of stage entertainer in the ever-changing world of mediocre entertainment!
!!!!!

are you guys seeing the importance of all this? there is a moral here and it has nothing and everything to do with wayne newton. are you willing to put on the shoes of the person or stage entertainer, let’s say for instance…wayne newton, who you think is cheesy? will you walk a mile in his busta browns? can you dish out the cheese and then take it? to las vegas?
can you?!

because i don’t think you can! wayne newton is not a cheese muffin because a poll taken at a local university or junior college says he is. nay! and wayne newton, as a cultural bloody icon, is not a complete cheese bum with extra cheese and a side order of cheese because he’s an aging stage personality whose voice never changed during puberty. nay nay my good friends!

and wayne newton is not cheesier than velveeta with a cheese whiz and e z cheese cocktail because he is reduced to emceeing “hip” events like Divas Las Vegas and his false teeth are brighter than the shine on his tan-in-a-can forehead, or that we’re all supposed to believe that he still has a full head of black hair. no no no! i am telling you, wayne newton is not cheesy! at all! and i should know, because i am wayne newton!

well, i mean, i’m not really wayne newton. but a couple of paragraphs ago i got to role play as wayne and decided to follow it all the way through so that at least he would have a fighting chance in the weekly. of course, it’s really hard to be both me and wayne newton at the same time so i’m sorry if there was any confusion and also i’m not really sure who won in the end, me or wayne, it’s kinda hard to tell. but of course, that’s not important, what is important is that i think that when i watch TV it’s probably tons different than when you watch TV.
and that’s ok by me, wayne newton.

*gasp* am i wayne newton?! are you wayne newton?! i don’t know! i don’t know!
ten (9) ways to tell that i’m not wayne newton:
10. i’m a chick.
9. i don’t look good in a tux.
8. i’ve never been to las vegas.
7. i can’t carry a tune in a bucket.
6. there is no #6.
5. i’ve never been in an episode of Bonanza
4. i’m not a cultural icon.
3. i’ve never been in 5 different movies where i played myself as a character.
2. i’ve never met siegfried or roy. i don’t even know which one is the blonde and which one is the tiger.
1. i don’t know any of the words to danke schoen or red roses for a blue lady.

wayne “jaimie pickle” newton

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Tags: rant, TV

The One About Slush
June 11, 2002

hi kidz,

when my leetle brother and i were little fleegans, about yay high to a pig’s eye, well, maybe we were bigger than that, we each had a slush maker thingy. it was an over-sized cup that had some sort of magic juice in it and it was kept in the freezer. after school each day we would get off the school bus (aka cheese wagon or darth vader hole) and we would run home and get our slush thingies out of the freezer, make a slush, and commence to watching cartoons.

this was an incredible thing.
we would pour soda into the cup and in seconds the cola would start turning to slush. a minute later we were slurping our slushes and watching ‘toons, or mister roger’s, or whatever. i’m not sure what was in those cups that would turn our pop into slush but i think it was probably magic. and if it wasn’t magic it was probably some poisonous chemical or probably magic. anyway, it doesn’t matter how it worked it just did, what matters is that we only ever used cola. not once did we branch out into other flavors. i mean, sure we used rootbeer and dr flepper, but we never tried anything different, y’know, like kool-aid or something. no fruity flavors for the pickle kids, nay nay, we liked coke slushes and by god we aren’t going to try anything different ’cause that’s what we like. and i thought about all that the other day and i thought about how much i wish i still had that slush mug because maybe this time i would try some flavors, y’know?

and true there’s a place fairly close to my apartment that sells slushes. and true they are good slushes. but really, who wants to drive out there to get a slush? and besides, the people at that place have like, this superior attitude. like their slushes are fancy or something?
“hi, i’d like a raspberry slush, please.”
“um, what did you say?” and this high school kid looks at me like i’m some kind of freak.
“er, i’d like a raspberry slush, please? you do have raspberry, right? por favor?”
“um like, they aren’t slushes.”
“er, i’d like one of those. a raspberry one, please.” i say and point to the industrial slush machine. what a glorious machine!
“it’s not a slush. it’s a fresh. fruit. smoothie.”
“uhhhhyeah. and i’d like a raspberry one.”

it’s a slush. get over it.

well, i went to my parents house the other day and was lounging around the pool sipping on this really great drink called a “margarita”. which, if i’m not mistaken, is spanish for “nectar of the gods”. and my dad says to me, “would you like that frozen?” and i said, “well, it seems like too much trouble to break out the blender for just one drink. i’ll just drink it on tha rox today.” and he says, “trouble? it’s no trouble at all! not with the new ronco™ blenderflex 30…”
ha ha. just a little stab at ronco™.
anyway he says, “nah, it’s no trouble we have one of those hand-blender things. it’s easy.”

it wasn’t something that blends hands by the way, it’s a hand-held blender. i’m sure you knew that but sometimes people take things so literally. like for instance, it wasn’t an actual margarita i was drinking. it was actually a freakin’ huge margarita i was drinking. i mean, some people would be quite shocked to find out that i occasionally have an alcoholic drink. when actually, i drink all the time! ha ha! you guys don’t think i write these things sober do you?! i mean “the one about the bee” you guys really believed that was diet soda?! ha ha! ok well, you got me on that one. it was diet soda. i mean really, drinking a driving isn’t funny. but drug addiction now that’s funny!
ok. i’ve reached the sick humor quota for this week.

and dad proceeded to jerk my drink away from me and made me a frozen ‘rita. it was good.

it was so good in fact, that a couple days later i went to the beeg W and bought a hand-blender of my very own and have been drinking slushes ever since. in fact, if it’s not in slush form, i don’t want anything to do with it. what? a can of pop? gag. bring me some ice so’s i can slushify that thing! now that’s a drink.
mt. dew is pretty good, but as a slush it’s too die for.
i’m not a huge fan of milk what with the whole lactose intolerance thing, i mean, milk “does a body good” but it also launches a 3 ft. flame out my backside. but if it’s a milk slush, i can’t help myself. it’s a slush! i mean, sure there’s still a 3 ft. flame but slush = fun! yay milk!
plain ol’ boring water? no way! make it a water slush! ahhh, that’s refreshment! and fun!

now this handy-dandy blender is not just a hand-blender, but it’s also a chopper. a chopper! it chops. things. i can chop vegetables or ice or fruit or rocks or bone or all sorts of other things! do you realize what this means?!

i can chop something, anything, let’s say…. a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (for instance), and then i can put it in a cup of ice and make a peanut butter and jelly slush! booya! i’ll never have to chew my food again!
heck, i can have a peanut butter and jelly and vodka slush! tatdow!

for dinner tonight i’m having a rice, veggie and corndog (with stick) slush and a coffee and chocolate chip cookie slush for dessert! nummy!
and later tonight while i’m relaxing and reading a great book you just know i’ll be sipping on a bourbon slush!
bourbon neat? no way barkeep! i’ll take it on the rocks…crushed rocks that is! derp!

so now when i come home from work i hop out of the car and run all the way to the apartment with my book satchel floppin’ and my shirt untucked and i promptly make a slush and this time i refuse to use just cola! i’m branching out! i’m makin’ a pink gatorade-chocolate syrup-and-what-the-heck-i’ve-gotta-get-rid-of-this-bottle-of-rum-somehow slush and then i plop down in front of the TV to watch bugs bunny and then i remember that we don’t have cable and that i work 40 hours a week and that i’ve gotta make dinner and there’s bills to pay and a weekly to write and what the heck am i doing making slushes?

yeah, i’m a huge dork.
but i’m a huge dork with a cherry cola slush in her hands.

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The One About PopTarts
June 04, 2002

hi kids,

holy geez, it’s june! what? how? where is the time going? i mean, i remember may. may lasted for like, i dunno, seems like 5 weeks or something. five long, long, long weeks. but what happened to april?! i don’t remember april at all. and now, now we’ve got june here. geezy peezy. june.
june.

oy, so i had another “incident” with my “attitude” this week but the thing is i’m too embarrassed to talk about it because

A. it further proves that my attitude is
1. a stoopid idiot.
2. trying to get me in trouble
3. not very effective at all. and what i mean by that is if anyone of you personally “experienced” my ‘tude you’d say, “what the heck was that? what? that is what you call an attitude? BAH-hahahahahahaha!”

B. the unfortunate stranger (!) that was on the “wrong side” of my “raging” attitude (not) asked to be put on the weekly list.

OMG! THEY KNEW ME! RECOGNIZED! BY A STRANGER!
NOW THIS PERSON KNOWS I’M A COMPLETE DORK!
THEY MUST BE SILENCED!

wait a sec, everyone knows i’m a dork! whew! that was close.

so i ran into daktari and his special lady friend (a la lebowski) in the poptart aisle on sunday and they wanted to hear all about how i was a moron on the phone with the stranger so instead i’m writing about poptarts. also, the CDM coffee is really great, daktari! it’s the only coffee i’ve ever had that did not change colors when i added creamer to it. *cough* that’s some *cough* good stuff man.

so yeah, instead of describing what a total moron i am when it comes to talking to strangers on the phone i’ll instead talk about what a moron i am when it comes to eating breakfast.

well, when i’m not scarfing a brimmin’ bowl of warm nearly cinnominish goo (oatmeal) for breakfast i’m probably eating a poptart. poptarts are very convenient. i mean, i can toast them and go, or not toast them and go. and for about 7 weeks i was eating them “raw”. which isn’t bad but then i decided that maybe i’d start toasting them. toasting them was ok. but it didn’t really knock my socks off or anything. but the thing is, i wasn’t really eating poptarts. and what i mean by that is i wasn’t eating flellogg’s poptarts.

y’see, i’m very cheap. it’s a habit i picked up from my father (hi dad!). anyway, in my cheapness i was buying the store brand poptarts. i mean, i figure i don’t enjoy eating breakfast anyway, why spend more money for a product that probably isn’t any better than the generic flava if i’m not going to enjoy it? it made sense at the time. really.

after 3 months of eating the store brand poptarts, mostly raw, (it seems that toasting them dries them out, and not in a good way, i mean, when your breakfast starts out as a solid and cooks and comes back a powder, to quote k’s choice, “something’s wrong”.) i thought to myself, “jaimie, maybe if you bought the “real” poptarts, they might taste better and also maybe they won’t be as dry as sand, nor taste like it.” and then i said, “listen, i’m the one who works hard for the sweet, sweet money and i’m not about to spend money for “real” poptarts when they pro’ly don’t even taste any better than the “fake” poptarts. so there.”

and then i went to the grocery store.
and i was looking at the packages of poptarts. and i looked at the “real” poptarts and i noticed that they brag about using (and i gotta be careful with this one) flmucker’s jam in the middle of the flellogg’s poptarts. and so i mean, with a name like flmucker’s it has to be good. right? that’s what the tv says anyway.

so i “splurged” and bought the flellogg’s poptarts. unfrosted, of course. the frosting is too sweet and crunchy and gag.

so i wake up the next morning and thought that hmmmm, maybe i’ll try one of those delicious looking, flmucker’s filled flellogg’s poptarts and wow, what an exciting way to start the day. so i “pop” the breakfast goody into the amazing toaster oven and wait for my morning nourishment to “ping” ready. and “ping” breakfast!

i grab the toasted tarts “oo ow! hot! ouch!” and quickly toss them on my plate. and i give them a minute to cool. and now it’s time for the “test” and was spending my “hard earned” money on “real” poptarts worth it?

find out next week.
next week’s epitomb: jaimie eats a poptart. and she makes it funny!

jaimie “ha ha!” pickle

i’m kidding! geez, like i would make you guys fret over my breakfast adventures? i’m not that cruel.

so anyway i bite into my freshly toasted, flmucker’s filled, flellogg’s poptart and i promtly start screaming as though my face were not so much on fire, but as though my face had just been hit by a flaming ball of napalm, which it had.

apparently the “real” poptarts are not as dry as the fake ones and the filling is in fact, not only hot but also volatile and can even become quite angry too. and the tart, although mostly not dry, is only kept together by the gluey, volatile filling. and so, when i bit into the tart o’ doom, the whole thing cracked and when exposed to oxygen the filling expanded thus exploding half of the tart o’ death in my face, specifically the mouth and chin region.
did i mention i screamed?

i jerked the poptart away from my face but the burning continued. that’s because the “victory smelling” napalm-like filling had glued itself and a huge portion of pastry shrapnel to my cheek.
i believe i’ve mentioned the screaming.

you know those stoopid warnings that you find on things? those warnings that say DO NOT USE BLOW DRYER WHILE TAKING A SHOWER, those warnings? yeah, those are for me.
so the next time you’re eating a delicious flmucker’s filled flellogg’s poptart and you notice that on the box the instructions warn the breakfast eater that FILLING IS REALLY @$&*#!!! HOT! and you think to yourself, “duh. what idiot doesn’t know that?” think of me. the idiot. the idiot with flaming blueberry stuck to her face. screaming.

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