The One About Oatmeal

Category: weekleez

The One About Oatmeal
September 25, 2001

kids. hi.  

for the past month or so i’ve been eating like a horse. what i mean is, oats.  

or what i really mean is, oatmeal. 
(jennifer, aren’t you excited?! last week i said the topic would be oatmeal, and it is!)  

yep, for the last five weeks i’ve eaten two bowls of oatmeal everyday.  it goes like this: i start out my day sleepwalking through showering, dressing and somehow making it downstairs without breaking my neck.  then i have a brimmin’ bowl of hot quaker oats.  then i go to work.
by lunch time i’ve managed to sleepwalk through the morning and somehow i wake up to another bowl of oatmeal.  but since i’m at work i don’t get to eat my hot quaker oats in a fine china bowl.  instead i get to scarf the warm goo out of a soggy paper bowl with a plastic spoon.  nummy.
then for dinner i have a delicious meal of ANYTHING BUT OATMEAL. usually.  if we are out of food (which is 90% of the time) then i have a nice bowl of hot quaker oats.  then the cycle repeats itself.  

the only bad part to all of this (aside from me not getting any protein) is that i hate oatmeal.
hate it.
unfortunately, my quest to find foods that do not hurt my sissy stomach has only turned up one perfect food. 
oatmeal. gag.  

but hey, i shouldn’t complain right? at least i can eat something.  and heck, put enough cinnamon sugar on it, and it tastes alright.  there’s something to be said about the texture though.  and that’s the part i hate the most.  it’s all warm and soft, like a loogie. only it’s got hard bits in it.  and i gag when i eat it.  so i have to make it extra soupy, just so’s i can keep it down.  it’s pathetic, i know. but it’s all i have. 
note to self: oatmeal and a trigger-happy gag reflex go together like Dr. Laura at a gay pride event.  

i only have one rule when i comes to oatmeal, two if you count that i can only eat it extra soupy.  my one rule is, i only get the kind with the pilgrim on it.  i like his wizened smile.  he has a certain confident air about him that exudes…confidence.  his smile says, “i’ve been making this stuff for over 100 years. yeah, i know what i’m doin’.” of course, he, being a religious man (quaker), would never brag out loud about his oat empire or that fact that quaker merged with pepsico to form the 5th largest food and beverage company in the world.  he’s just not that kind of guy. nay, he’s content to sit back and peddle his canisters of simple oats all the while sitting quietly on his pile of money.  yep, that ol’ quaker dude knows what he’s doing.  

meanwhile, i was thinking about oatmeal and wondering which of the four food groups it fell into and in all my genius i came up with the “oatmeal group”. and then i remembered that oatmeal is a grain and is probably in there with the cereal group. and then i remembered that they (they as in, them.) don’t use the four food groups anymore. instead they’ve moved on to some sort of devil chart called the “food guide pyramid”.  why is the word guide in the middle?   

ok, now i don’t want to sound alarmist here, but i think that the food guide pyramid is evil.  and if not evil, well, it’s stupid. first off, it’s in the shape of a pyramid, which of course screams,”NEW AGE!” but really, no one cares. ’cause if there’s one thing that no one has time to worry about it’s new agey nutritionists and their odd food charts.  

the thing that makes it so stupid is that it doesn’t tell you anything important.  it basically tells you to eat a variety of foods every day.  way to go einstein!  i think we can figure that out.  it’s not like we’re eating the same sludge day in and day out.  that would be like some pathetic boob just eating two or three bowls of oatmeal a day!  and NO ONE does that!   

but the part that kills me is the bread and cereal part of the spirit food guide pyramid.  it “suggests” (and by “suggests” i mean “hypnotizes”) that we eat 6 – 11 servings of bread/cereals a day.  and they don’t even tell you how much is in a serving.  so let’s see here.  6 – 11 servings a day.  and hey, i don’t want to just eat the minimum amount, i want to try harder than that! so let’s say i have to eat 8 servings. i dunno about you guys but i’m just not that hungry. 

morning: 1 bowl of oatmeal.
lunch: 1 bowl of oatmeal
dinner: hmmm. let’s say i have a “sensible” dinner including a bread roll and some rice, that kills two more “servings”. now i gotta find AT LEAST 4 more servings! i suppose that means i have to eat 4 slices of chocolate cake, seeing as how cake is a bread, right?  
sheesh!  that’salottafood!

and you know what? that “karmic food spirit guide pyramid scheme” is seeming less new agey and more “good bidness” for the grain venders. 
see where i’m going with this?  that separatist with the instant oatmeal is looking more and more like a freemason to me. and that confident smile has nothing to do with his superior, mad-oat making-skillz and everything to do with inventing a totally random food chart with huge kickbacks for the oat and grain industries.  wake up and smell the artificially flavored instant oatmeal people!  it smells really good!   

here’s something even more scary to think about: next week the weekly turns one (1) year old.  and laura “she’s a muggle you know” bentley has made us all something really special and cool.  and it will be on the webpage pro’ly next week.  seeing as how next week the weekly turns a year old and all.   

next week’s epitomb: jaimie sends out the one about the olympics and hopes nobody notices.
i would never do that!  

next week’s epitomb: jaimie makes fun of the morton salt girl and slogan.  

ok you guys, who would win in a fight between the bumbling salt girl and the god-fearin’ quaker?   

jaimie “when it rains, it pours.” pickle

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The One About Eavesdropping

Category: weekleez

The One About Eavesdropping
September 18, 2001

hi kids,  

i wanted to make this one a special weekly.  one that would be super funny and highly memorable and would have people talking about it all week long and well, fat chance i’d say. instead there’s this:  

so i was at the “Big W” a couple of weeks ago and found myself in the hair aisle.  y’know, ’cause i needed shampoo.  and so i bought this giant bottle of conditioner instead because it was such a great deal.  i mean, the bottle was bigger than my head, pro’ly weighs more too.  ok, sure i don’t have that much hair to condition, but it was such the deal, right? and so i moved to the next hair aisle to pick out my color.  and the choices were endless, so i was in that aisle for quite a while.  i couldn’t decide if i wanted to be the sassy but very smart-looking, burgundy headed chick, the smirking asian chick, the no-nonsense brown headed chick (why does she always have on an argyle sweater?), or the prissy blonde guy in the turtle-neck.   
decisions, decisions, decisions…  

and whilst i was pondering which tiny head to buy there came a shriek from behind me, “stephanie! do you not understand the word budget?!”   and you know, i had to turn around. i figured it was some “rebellious” teenager type person cramming all sorts of expensive hair care products into the shopping cart or something very much like that.   

so i turn, and see a very flustered looking “mom” type person talking down to a six (6) year old who was holding some sort of barrette.  i quickly turned away to hide my smile and stifle the guffaw that wanted to bubble forth.  how crazy is that?  why should a six year old know budget?  i mean, when i was wee and wanted something we couldn’t afford, my mom would just say something like, “no” and that’d be the end of it.  there was no vocabulary lesson involved.  there didn’t need to be, mom said no.   

but not today.  nope, today there’s, “stephanie! do you not understand the word budget?!”
i mean, like, duh stephanie! sha!  

so how’s mom gonna explain budget to the “ignorant” stephanie?
“look steph, it’s like this, daddy makes 900 apples every two weeks.  the mortgage is 800 apples a month and you and your little sister, who refuses to comprehend money markets and IRAs, eat 150 apples worth of groceries every two weeks.  so you see sweetheart, there’s not enough apples left over to buy you that “silver glitter-brittany spears-oops, i think i did it again-for popular girls only-hair clasp”. stephanie, do you not understand the word budget?!”  

i figure stephanie is destined to grow up to be a financial whizkid with a tendency to let her hair hang down in her face.  or maybe i’m just picturing Cousin It with a calculator. who knows.  

ok, now i don’t make it a habit to listen in on other people’s conversations or anything, but you know how sometimes you’ll hear a phrase or two of the shemp behind you or next to you or maybe that person is really talking to you but you didn’t really notice until just now and….  

what i mean by all that is, last-last weekend i was in The Volunteer state visiting leetle brahther and we ate at a BK.  while we were waiting in line to place our order, the lady behind us says to her friend, “i haven’t eaten a hamburger in over a year!”     ok, so like, if you hadn’t eaten a burger in over a year,

#1. why start now?
#2. do you really want your first burger of the “new millenium” to be fast food? and
#3. shouldn’t you be at Subway right now?  

ok, so she hasn’t had at burger in a year, big deal. well it was. to her anyway. because the whole time we were in line that’s all she talked about.  and she was quite loud about it too.  i mean, over and over, “i haven’t had a hamburger in over a year! isn’t that odd?” “i’m so hungry! this will be my first hamburger i’ve eaten in a whole year!” and she really said this, “wow! it smells so good in here!”  

holy moly! did she just get out or something? she didn’t really look to be the “prison type” but you never know. but it didn’t matter anyway seeing as how we got our food and sat down.  

but then the lady and her friend sat down in the booth in front of us. so of course we heard more about how she hadn’t had a hamburger for over a year! and then for the kicker she said, (and i swear this is true), “yeah, he wouldn’t allow me to eat one.”  

what?!  who?!  huh? ghuuhhh?  derp?  he wouldn’t allow her??
you go girl! you eat that burger! heck, the next one’s on me sistah! you get you that double whopper with cheese, extra fries and supersize that mama jama bucket of cola. and for dessert we’ll get you an apple pie.  what’s that you say? BK doesn’t have appy pie? then we’ll drive over to Mickey D’s and get you one! and you can wash it down with a ‘biggie’ Frosty from Wendy’s! eat up lady, this is your day, this is your burger!  tatdow!  

ok, well, enough about eavesdropping on strangers.  

so anyway, i picked the one with the smart-looking, burgundy headed chick. it was buy one get one free.  tatdow!  

next week’s epitomb: oatmeal.  

jaimie “burgundy, budget burgers” pickle  

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The One About the Abyssmal Mall

Category: weekleez

The One About the Abyssmal Mall
Tuesday, September 4, 2001

hi kids, wow, september? you gotta be kidding me.  

so anyway, my leetle brahther was in town about two (2) months ago, and he needed some new shoes.  being the good beeg seester that i am, i took him to get those new shoes, of course i only know one place to get shoes and that would be The Mall.
*sigh*

The Mall reminds me a lot of that movie, the abyss. they are both long, with bright colors, filled with people you don’t want to have anything to do with and is just, as laura has said on occasion, “abysmal”.  

so my bro and i are walking in The Mall and we come up on a giant, shiny, red s.u.v. parked in the middle and of course i immediately think to myself, “how do they get these things in this place? and why didn’t they take out the annoying beanie baby booth when they had the chance?”
because, well, the mass carnage of tiny, colorful animal dolls would just be the coolest, right?

anyway, there’s a table next to this giant, shiny, red s.u.v. and it’s got entry forms on it and pencils are all over the place and so apparently they’re giving the car away. my brahther suddenly stops and and starts to fill out a form.

“uh…what are you doing?” i ask.
he gives me a “what does it look like i’m doing?” kind of look and says, “what does it look like i’m doing?”
i snicker and say, “so you really think you’re going to win that car?”
and then he says, “it doesn’t hurt anything to try.” 

yeah so like, when did he get so smart-like? i mean, i can’t argue with that.  so i did the only thing i could do.  i filled out an entry form. like, duh. then we bought some shoes.  

a couple of weeks later i needed something from the bookstore.  of course, the bookstore is in The Mall.
*sigh*

The Mall reminds me of that movie, the abyss. they are both convoluted yet boring and fill me with a dread that can only be described as “quite dreadful”. in the same way that i’ll never watch that movie again, i never go to The Mall alone. 
’tis a scary place. 

so this time my roommate, laura “can it get any more abysmal than that?” bentley, went to The Mall with me. once again i was face to face with the giant, shiny, red s.u.v. and without thinking i immediately started to fill out another entry form. 
LB stopped and looked at me and asked, “what are you doing?”
“i’m going to win this car.” i said.
“you are going to win this car?”
“well, i’m trying to win this car.  and it doesn’t hurt anything to try.”
“good point.” she said.  but laura did not fill out an entry form. 

she doesn’t “enter contests” and she’s not the type of person to “fill out” an “entry form” and maybe she doesn’t want to “win a car” and hey, that’s ok, because she doesn’t “need” a “free car” and wouldn’t you like to be in a position where you could “turn down” the offer of a “free car”?  

so anyway, i pretty much told her that i was going to win that car, which is probably why she didn’t enter, right?  i mean, what’s the point, it’s my car. it has nothing to do with the fact that she has no luck at all. i mean, the poor shemp’s never even one a coin toss much less a huge free car.  and at this point she knows not to enter because, well, first, it’s mine, second, no luck and third, it’s mine!
it really had nothing to do with the fact that as soon as she picked up a pencil and an entry form i smacked them out of her hand and screamed, “back off! that’s my giant, shiny, red s.u.v. you ungrateful peasant!”
or maybe that didn’t happen.  i can’t remember.  

then we escaped the clutches of The Mall. and i haven’t been back to The Mall since. which is ok by me ’cause The Mall reminds me of that movie, the abyss. they both have the ability to suck away your precious time and when it’s over you wish you had done something worthwhile and constructive and gosh, don’t you wish you had your money back too?  

so anyway a couple of more weeks go by and i’m sitting at home and laura comes downstairs and is all, “well, you’ve done it.”
and i’m all, “i have?”
and she’s all, “yeah, you just had to win something didn’t you?”
and i’m all, “yeah, it’s like, sometimes you just gotta win and so…i uh. er, what are we talking about?”  
and then she refreshes my memory of entering the contest to win the big honking s.u.v. and “oh yeah!”
“cool! so i won the car?!”
“no.” she said. “you won a cruise for two.”  

curses!  

so yeah, i win this cruise. 
and it’s like, a cruise y’know? something like, 3 days and 4 nights in the bahamas or some other imaginary place like that.  and well, bummer right? because
#1. i don’t have time for a free cruise and
#2. i can’t afford a “free” cruise and
#3. aren’t the bahamas under some sort of tyrannical dictatorship at the moment? no wait… that’s indonesia, oops.  

the deal with the “free cruise” is that it’s gonna cost me and my cruisemate at least $400 (each. got that?) to get to go on the “free cruise” and then whatever other expenses it would take to keep us alive for four days on foreign soil.  and gee, let’s give ’em a cruise during hurricane season right? sha, isn’t it always hurricane season in the bahamas?  

yeah so great prize and all, i mean, this “free cruise” is starting to remind me a lot of that movie, the abyss.  it’s got all this water and whoa, like, slightly famous people!  but hey, this is kinda dragging on and i’m finding it hard to identify with the “romantic” relationship and why do the russians always have the guns?  is he breathing underwater? is that an alien or what? are the aliens good guys or bad guys? so technically, is ed harris dead or is it just from the neck up?  cool, so the alien saved him…so the aliens are good guys.  oh for crying out…you mean there’s a moral to this story? somebody kick me in the head please. *sigh* don’t you hate it when they make the aliens more “human” than the humans? whoa, whoa, whoa, now  the aliens are going to destroy the world? bu…h … i…thought…. so now they’re bad guys?  shouldn’t it have ended when ed harris “died”? free cruise? feh. how abysmal.  

now, in case there are any die hard abyss fan out there, i was forced to watch the director’s cut version of that flick and well, sheesh, it was 2 days and 9 hours long and it was confusing as all get out (what do you expect from James “Titanic” Cameron though, really? i’ll let Terminator 2 slide.) and even the people who liked the regular version of that movie seemed to think that the director’s version was bad.  so you know, if you must send me hate mail telling me how shallow i am and that i just “don’t get it”, well, ok.  please send it to laurabentley@likeicare.com

right well, onto the weekly then…  

  

next week’s epitomb: T1000 vs. the Golem  

jaimie “i’m a driver. i’m a winner. things are gonna change i can feel it.” pickle

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The One About Hurricane Hazel

Category: weekleez

The One About Hurricane Hazel
Tuesday, August 28, 2001

aw geez Margie, Tuesday again?

remember, this is all in good fun. if your name is Hortense, if you have been wronged by a hurricane, or if you are a maid, you probably shouldn’t read this.  

hi kids,  

well, it’s hurricane season once again. (or maybe it isn’t. i know nothing about hurricanes.  which is why i’m writing about them.)  

ah, hurricane season, sweet hurricanes as far as the eye can see.  soon they’ll be ripe for harvest and that’s when Farmer Meteorologist will pluck the hurricanes from the vine and give them all names. probably sissy names. and if your name just happens to be one of those hurricane names, well, of course i’m not talking about *your* name being a sissy name.  i mean, *your* name is cool and fab.  unless it’s Hortense.  i’m sorry.  that name is completely sissified.  but you already knew that didn’t you, Hortense?  

anyway, they always have really odd names for the hurricanes right? i mean, what’s up with that?  these are terrible winds of great force and destruction! should they not be named as such? Andrew?! sha!  

“Andrew dahling, you are coming to the country club aren’t you?”
“certainly, i wouldn’t miss it for the world. although i must make a quick trip up the coast.”
“oh don’t get too dirty. it would disgrace the family.”
“pish posh, i’ll be there in time for tea and scones. and do tell them to bring the apricot marmalade. i detest that jam they serve.”  

hurricane Andrew? that’s a hurricane with cuff links. they should make the name fit the ‘cane.  

i mean, Hurricane Destructo, there’s a name.
Hurricane Death Breath
H. Coast Cruncher
H. Beach Eater
H. Sand Blaster  

and ok, so maybe the World Hurricane Center would run out of dangerous, destructive sounding names (although the WWF could probably help them out).  if they’re going to use real names then maybe they could tack on a vicious nickname.  for instance, Tropical Storm Barry.  what?  is it going to destroy my house or do my hair and nails? Barry? how unintimidating. now if it was Tropical Storm Barry the Knife, well, that’s different.  

so maybe they could do themes.  *gasp* themes!  

*annoying weatherperson*
“…and it looks like Hurricane Cindy is slowly dying down.  of course, Tropical Depression Bobby is gaining force, and our Doppler weather scan vidcam 911 has just reported that Tropical Storm Marsha will be reaching hurricane force winds by noon tomorrow.”
*insert chorus of “Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!” here*

gag. i’ve reduced myself to “Brady Humor”.  i revolt myself.  

but you see what i’m getting at right?  all the hurricanes of that year would have to be named with characters from…. yeah yeah yeah… you get it.
just think, a whole collection of Disney hurricanes!  2002 could be the year of the Seven Dwarves!  

Jimmy and i discussed this at great length, about 30 seconds, which led to this being the topic this week.
so of course i asked jeeves about it.  i must confess however, that weather bores me to tears.  and since weather is such a dull topic i found it hard to concentrate on all the serious hurricane web pages.  luckily, i stumbled across (i kid you not) FEMA FOR KIDS. 
and after laughing for 20 minutes i completely understood everything about hurricanes.  no i didn’t.  but it did tell me how hurricanes are named. the World Meteorological Organization (freemasons) uses six (6) lists of names in rotation.  so the same names are reused every seventh year.  do you understand what this means!?! this means that there will never be a Hurricane Jaimie.  *that’s* what it means.   

the only way they add a new name to a list is when they have to “retire” the name of a really destructive hurricane.  so even though Andrew never had a “real” job, he’s now retired.  go figure.  

so i have the list of all the hurricane names that they can use, and um, these names are only good for the Atlantic region.  so if you live in another region chances are your hurricane names are much more interesting.  go here for the list of names: www.fema.gov/kids/hunames2.htm  
i can’t help but notice that the “H” names are the least cool. we’ve got Hortense, Henri, Hermine, Harvey, Helene, and Humberto. what? no Hazel? come on!  

and the only reason i mention this is to segue into the next part of the weekly. and i do hate to write such a choppy weekly, but it cannot be avoided because i simply won’t remember any of this next week.   

my parents are getting a maid.
i’ll say that again. only this time with incredulity.  

my parents are getting a MAID?! wha?  

my mom conquistadored two kids, three if you count my father, and never needed a maid.  this kills me.  i mean, it’s just them. both of their lazy-slob children (hi justin!) have moved out of the house.  what do they need a maid for?  i don’t get it.  the only thing that’s ever messed up is the kitchen table, of course, if you pick up the newspaper and mail it’s spotless. derp!  

all’s i know is, the maid better look like Shirley Booth, complete with starched hat and uniform.
wow! the Pickle House is gonna be wacky and full of fun now!  

i can picture my father coming home from work and being greeted with a “hi mista P!” and then the wackiness ensues.  the maid starts trying to get all the single people romantically involved, with hilarious results! she catches the neighbors doing something odd, and feels that she must “spy” on them to “find out” what’s “really” going on, only to find out that they were all planning a surprise party for *her*!  ha! then she accidentally sells the dog! derp! and when her last minute vacation plans get cancelled, she goes on vacation with the Pickles!  of course!  and while staying at the hotel she gets into an argument with the cleaning staff! she sure did teach those “big city maids” a thing or two! ha ha!  and Thanksgiving and Christmas would be lost if not for her! she somehow manages to save the day after finding the new dog with it’s head in the bowl of cranberry relish!  lucky for us Pickles, the maid knows an even *better* recipe for cranrelish! yay!   

love that maid.  

it’s a whirligig of fun! kinda like that time that Hazel tried to fix up her nephew with Mr. Baxter’s niece and….  

next week’s episode: jaimie digs her own grave by insulting nature and the cleaning profession, only to have her readers say, “deja vu?”    

jaimie “here comes the story of the hurricane…” pickle

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The One About Electra

Category: weekleez

The One About Electra
Tuesday, Augut 21, 2001

hokey smokes! it’s Tuesday!  

so i was at work the other day, working really hard by the way, and the phone rang and broke my concentration.  well, not really.  the phone did ring, but i didn’t really get side tracked or anything. in fact, i didn’t even realize that the phone was ringing or that my “mad work skillz” had taken over and that i was, out of complete robotic habit, answering the telephone.
that is until, i heard myself say, “Kelly Signs”  

which kind of confused me at first, so i tore my eyes and brain away from the computer screen and found myself clutching a can of Pepsi to my ear.
wow! that’s cold! ha ha!  

but what was that annoying sound?
the phone!  

so i scrambled for the unforgiving noisemaker, spilling my drink in the process and watching as the computer keyboard sparked, smoked, and shorted out all in a matter of two seconds. one, two, kablooie.  

i finally answer the phone. “Kelly Signs” i say, while distractedly mopping soda up and away from any drawings or notes that have the potential to be important.  because that doodle that i had drawn on the back of that business card was killer! it would have made a cool tattoo or something!  

“um, tattoo? hello?” huh? not the voices again….
oh yeah! i’m on the telephone!  

“Kelly Signs, this is jaimie, can i help you?”
“good morning…” she starts. her voice was wicked perky so i figure she’s a salesperson or something, and i go back to cleaning off the monitor and printer vaguely wondering how i managed to spill pop that far and… high? geez, the calendar is soaking wet, and it’s a *wall* calendar. wha?  

“bladdy bladdy sign bladdy for our business blah…”
what is that chattering? derp! customer.  

“i’m sorry, what company is this?” i ask (to buy some time while i start tearing through a roll of paper towels). i continue to sop up the cola flow that is now making a break for the fax machine…which is of course, ringing.  

“this is Electra from bladdy bladdy…”
GHEEEEEEEDEEEERP! the fax machine starts spitting out paper….right into a puddle of Pepsi!  i switch the phone to my other ear and slam some paper towels down just in time to save the fax from it’s near watery death, when i realize that the chick on the phone just said her name was Electra. wow.  

“are you serious?” i ask.  

i’m stunned.  i mean, she’s gotta be a celebrity right? nobody names their kid Electra, do they?  it’s a pretty name and all but really, i mean, you know? there’s only two things you can be if your name is Electra…
1. professional wrestler (wrastler, for you southerners)
2. exotic dancer  

**HIGHSCHOOL GUIDANCE COUNSELOR’S OFFICE**
HSGC: “Electra, your occupational aptitude test results are in. let’s go over them ok?”
Electra: “sure, ok.”
HSGC: “let’s see, you wrote that you’d like to be a lawyer or a mathematician, is that correct?”
Electra: “yes ma’am. i find that the criminal justice system is…”
HSGC: “and it says here that you are rather good with numbers…well, i’m sorry, there aren’t any jobs for you.  but here’s something that seems right up your alley! American Gladiators needs another female gladiator… can you joust?”  

so while that scenario is playing in my head i reach for a pen to write down her name and whatever else and of course my arm barely hits a notebook that was on my desk.  the notebook moves a ‘smidge’ to the right and softly taps a stack of diskettes which of course slow motion domino themselves toward the now half full can of Pepsi.
(hey laura! i said “half full”!!  that makes me an optimist, doesn’t it? sweet!)  

“um, well yes, i am serious about renting a sign.”  
KERPLASH.  

there goes the rest of my cold beverage. a tidal wave of cola that drowns every object within 10 miles (convert to kilometers if you live in some other place) of my desk. and to add insult to injury, the empty can does this amazing super-fast-forward pinball maneuver in which it bounces across the desk hitting everything and anything in it’s path until finally hitting the ground with that hollow clanking sound that only an empty aluminum can makes.
TILT.  

“i’m sorry,” i say, “we don’t rent signs anymore.”  

drip. drip. drip.
i look around and see that everything is destroyed. the phone is soaked, it looks as though i’ve wazzed in my pants, and the copier is spitting out page after page of what appears to be a puddle of Pepsi giving me the finger.  i (very calmly) hang up the phone and wring out my shirt.  i walk to the shelf to get another roll of paper towels and hear the ‘squish-squish’ of my Pepsi-sodden shoes.  

on the way back to my desk i wonder how on earth it got all over the walls and… ohmygosh ceiling?  

then the phone rings. oh dear god no…
i rush to the phone just in time to hear my boss (who has been in her office during the Pepsi/Electra fiasco) say in a sing-song voice, “I’LL GET IT!”
so i stop.  

only i didn’t stop.
for on the ground was the very empty, very round, very dangerous-should-be-painted-bright-fluorescent green-just-in-case-a-moron-spills-her-drink-and-then-forgets-about-the-can-only-to-trip-on-it-later Pepsi can. so i pull a stooge vs. banana peel act where i fly arse over tea kettle and land flat-backed with the wind knocked outta me.  and i’ve got either cold blood leaking out of my head or there’s Pepsi on the floor seeping into my hair. at this point i can’t figure it out. i just lay there.  

my boss comes out of her office, “hey jaimie, who was on line one?”
“Elhectrah.” i gasp.
“oh. that’s an odd name. what did she want?”
“Elhectrahhh try….kill…me…”
“oh, ok. hey, why is the floor in my office wet?”  

next weeks epitomb: jaimie accidentally breaks her desk. hilarity ensues.  

jaimie “that’s what i call a “sticky situation”!” pickle

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The One About How I Write the Weekly

Category: weekleez

The One About How i Write the Weekly
Tuesday, August 14, 2001

hi kids,  

unfortunately i do not have a “theme” this week.  and that of course means that i have to pull something out of my… hat.  and we all know how horrible that can be so what am i going to do?   

well, once or twice a week i get asked, “How do you come up with all that stuff in the Weekly?” or quite often they say, “You know, i wonder how that mind of yours works sometimes.”  and of course there’s always the, “Get off the lawn you crazy kids!”  

so i thought this week i’d show you what it’s like (not really) to spend a week with the Weekly.  granted, it’s a struggle and not for the faint of heart, so i’ve edited as many swear words as i possibly could, and trust me, there were many.  mostly the same one over and over.  wait, what was i talking about? oh yeah! the Weekly!  

oh yeah.  the weekly.  

ok, this has so much potential to be really confusing seeing as how half of it is more stream of consciousness than probably anyone would care to read so i’ve put all my thoughts in italics and all my actions will be in regular type.  got it?  yeah, i thought so.   

ok, first of all my week, well, the Weekly week starts with Wednesday. We ready?  

Wednesday
Brain storming.  Thinking up topics.  i bought a notebook that i carry around with me and that’s where i write down my ideas and rough drafts of all future Weekleez.  Yup. You gotta be organized with this sorta thing or bad things can happen. did anything funny happen this week that i can make fun of? customers? did i read an interesting article that bears mentioning and then made fun of? should i pick a random noun and make fun of it?  hmmmm, small, war-torn countries… are they still funny?  did anything embarrassing happen to me this week? no… i made fun of myself two weeks ago.  rats.  or maybe i should make fun of something historical….shroud of Turin maybe?   

Thursday
Thursday i choose a topic and narrow it down.  Then try to figure out how much research i need to do. let’s see, if i choose something i know about then i have less research to do.  got to think…  something interesting and funny.  was that h.p. lovecraft story funny?  ummmm… NO!  no that wasn’t funny at all. darn.  ok ok ok, i got it!  wait, what’s funnier, Jersey Devil or Magna Carta?  i’ll think on that.  

Friday
Sometimes i’ll use my lunch hour to go to the library and do some research. However, if the topic is something personal that doesn’t need a lot of research, for example, the Jersey Devil, then i just goof off for an hour.  

Saturday
The first thing i do is laundry.  Then, because my life is now revolving around this silly email, i try to decide what kind of weekly i’m writing.  Should i just make fun of the Jersey Devil?  ok wait, i’ll provide some background info, then i’ll make fun of it!  how?  hmmm.  maybe i could make a list….er, no.  perhaps i’ll just rant about it!  nah, who cares about getting all worked up over a legend?  ooh!  parafable! booyah! pickle inda hay-ouse!  

Sunday
Church, Mi Casita, Wal-Mart, Food World (in that order).  

Monday
ohmigosh did i pick a topic?! oh right, Jersey Devil. sweet. Now i get online and do some “last minute” research. i use askjeeves.  i like it ’cause you can ask it questions and well yeah i’ll Boolean search any day but really, how may other search engines can you type, “what the hell is a jersey devil anyway?” and get hits? Plus, it’s like this butler.  And that’s funny ’cause like, how come that butler is so smart? and if he’s so smart why is he still a butler? build on this idea later for future weekly. Then i get the results and start to read through them but then it’s 8pm and time to watch The Weakest Link.  goobye.  

Tuesday
Morning: Wake up screaming, “Oh no! it’s Tuesday!” and “How can it already be Tuesday!?” and “My head’s been sewn to the carpet!” and of course, “what’s the topic?! ack! what was it i thought about it all week long how could i forget it just how stupid am i anyway?” “DERP!”

At work: Stew about the Weekly for an hour and then call Laura.  Ask Laura if it’s really Tuesday or if someone’s playing a trick on me.  Then pester her for an idea for the Weekly. Because maybe her idea is better than mine.  if only i knew what mine was. Promptly forget her idea.  It was too complicated and smartlike.  Also, get a dictionary.  
When no one is looking i sneak on the boss’s computer to get online and do some “last last minute” research. on what i have no idea.  surely, something will jump out at me on the Internet.  some sort of great and cool idea that will just knock the socks off of everyone…. aw crap. ok QUICK! new topic! something fast and easy…something i know something about. but what?  man, it would be cool if i knew something about Ramen noodles or the Jersey Devil or SOMETHING! rats.
Rats! no wait…did one on rats… think jaimie, think!  

On the way home from work: man, jimmy and laura are the best.  they cook dinner for me on Tuesday’s ’cause they know i’d never remember to eat and gee wally, how cool is that? maybe i should write a weekly about them? nah, that’s lame. topic topic topic.  

Evening: ok, i’ll check my email and maybe someone has sent me something cool.  That Nathan dude usually sends funny stuff, and Wisconsin Wendy  sends some really interesting things….let’s see…porn. porn. lotto. porn. amazon.com. porn. sheesh no email.  oh well, dinner time.  

Dinner:  Ask Jimmy and Laura what the Weekly should be about.  Make fun of their ideas.  Continue to eat dinner in a now hostile silence.  

Later that evening while sitting at the computer: waitaminute! i bought a notebook for the sole purpose of writing down all my ideas for Weekleez! if i can find that notebook i’ve found my Weekly!  jaimie you little idiot! you’re a genius!  

Again with the “later that evening”: woohoo! i found it! Flip through the notebook. Golly, i have really bad handwriting.  i can’t even read this, did i write this? cool, check out that doodle in the margin. that’s neat. i gotta paint that sometime. 
i can’t read any of this drivel.  it must’ve really sucked if i scratched out all these paragraphs about… about… what the hell did i write about? Hey wait!  i circled this part!  it must be important… it says…. Magna Carta?  

i’m screwed.  

Four hours of “last last last minute” research later and you’ve all received The One About the Magna Carta in your inbox.   it’s just that easy.

*****

ok, so maybe that’s how it all happens and maybe it isn’t. 
one thing’s for sure though, i’d never make fun of any ideas that jimmy or laura or anyone ever suggested.  never.  well, i don’t think i have.  have i?  who cares.  the point is, from now on, i’d never make fun of anyone with a suggestion for a weekly.  i mean, i may not use your idea but i’d not laugh in your face, or in secret about your idea. no matter how lame it is. 
*sigh* that last part was a joke. you kids need to relax. and send me a suggestion for the weekly. or anything.     

hopefully next week i’ll have um, you know, something to work with. hint. hint hint hint.
hint.
next week’s epitomb: England’s King John dukes it out with the barons.  get it? dukes? 
well, gosh i thought it was hilarious.  

jaimie “i take my coffee with one cream, one sugar, and two rolaids” pickle

hey, my leetle brahther is out of the hospital and is doing much better thanks for any prayers and all.
patsy, you are, as the kids say, “da bomb”. thank you so much for running sound.  it was great!
crazy uncle dan, i thought it was rather cool that you and your fam hung out with us at the Huddle House.  you guys rule.
and to everyone who has been so nice to point out that i need to update the web site.  well, ok. i’m gonna.  just gimmie a couple more days.    and if anyone wants off this list, just ask.    

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The One About Conquistadors

Category: weekleez

The One About Conquistadors
Tuesday, August 7, 2001

ok so,  

once upon a time, in a far away land, a land, far, far away, there were people.  the land was rich, the people were rich, and the people’s children were spoiled.  well, not all of the children were spoiled.  only the ones who did not become priests or join the army were spoiled.  also, the girl children were not spoiled so much as just married off.  right, so. what does a lesser nobleman’s son do when there is nothing for him to do?   well, if you’re from 16th century Spain you become a conquistador! i’d tell you what conquistador means, but i’ll not insult you guys like that.  

so yo, check it. i’m not dissin’ Spain and i’m not dissin’ conquistadors. ya dig?  so don’t be gettin’ in my face wit all dat, “what it is?”, dig?   don’t believe a word of what i write here.  it’s all fiction.  it’s all mostly fiction anyway.  i mean, parts of it are true.  ok, it’s all true. except for the parts i made up, which should be really obvious. 
with that said, here is Conquistadors for Numbskulls, Dorks, and Chickens.  or as i like to call it, The One About the Conquistadors. 

it is a humble list of ten (9) conquistadors, their deeds, and some stats.  

10. Vasco Nunez de Balboa (there’s a squiggle mark over the second ‘n’ in nunez. so there.) b.1475 Spain d.1517 Darien
Like most conquistadors, Balboa was the son of a nobleman.  He was not a farmer so he instead joined an expedition.  i could tell you all about it but it’s boring, so let’s just say he ended up in Colombia. He then ran into some dude named Pizarro and they headed to Panama.  They founded the town of Santa Maria de la Antigua which means, “Balboa y Pizarro were here” and together they plundered the locals and all that jazz. And like most conquistadors, he had heard rumors of a very rich city somewhere close by and wanted to find it and claim it for Spain and of course, himself.  He managed to find the South Sea which he named Mar del Sur, which means South Sea. He also did a lot of exploring and became popular.  This led to jealousy amongst some of his “friends”.  When he returned to Darien they beheaded him. Such is the life of a conquistador.
Likes: Gold
Dislikes: Indians
Most Famous For: Discovering the Pacific Ocean  

9. Ferdinand Magellan b.ca.1480 d. 1521 
Here we have another son of a rich family.  He was very smart and learned all about astronomy and nautical sciences.  His guidance counselor told him he’d make a good fisherman or conquistador.  He went with conquistador.  Mage went over to South America and did some exploring.  He made it through the dangerous straits down there at the bottom of the map on this side of the world and he named them Canal de Todos los Santos which means, “Straits of Magellan”. This is where the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans join.  He then did some more sailing and stuff. He searched for the Spice Islands.  He never made it to the Spice World, instead he died from a poison arrow.
Likes: Exploring
Dislikes: poison arrows, limits, Indians
Most Famous For: Circumnavigating the world  

8. Francisco Pizarro b.ca. 1471 d.1541 Lima
Pizarro was an illegitimate child and grew up with no education.  So of course, the only thing he could do besides be a thief is of course, be a popular thief in the name of his country. So he sailed off to New Spain and became a conquistador.  He eventually met up with some shmo named Balboa and they explored places and oceans.  He then got his own expedition and he went to places like Panama and Peru. He killed a bunch of Incas and made himself a governor or viceroy or something and had a nice palace in Lima. He lived there until he was assassinated by a group of jealous people. 
Likes: Himself, Charles V HRE.
Dislikes: Incas
Hobbies: Peru  

7. Juan Ponce de Leon b. 1460 d. 1521
Ponce was the son of a very old and rich family.  He was a well educated man and also was a conquistador.  His first experience with conquistadoring was with Chris Columbus’s second expedition and they ended up in Hispaniola, which is like, present day Haiti or something.  He then heard about very rich cities that had yet to be explored and so he got his own expedition and searched for these rich places.  Along his way he killed many Indians.  He did not find any sort of rich cities but that didn’t matter because by now he had heard of a rumor about a “fountain of youth”. So he looked for that to claim for Spain and to make himself famous.  He discovered a place he named “Florida”, and was attacked by Indians. The Indians ran him off to Cuba and that’s where he died.
Likes: adventure
Dislikes: Indians
Hobbies: Fighting Indians, looking for things
Most Famous For: Not finding the Fountain of Youth  

6. There is no six.  

5. Cesar de Vaca b.1489 d. 1527
Cesar was the son of a nobleman and so became a conquistador.  He, like most conquistadors at that time, was interested in finding rich cities to plunder and Indians to kill. He did manage to obtain large amounts of gold but at the expense of losing most of his men.  He was never able to bring the gold back to Spain because his galleon, El Caballero, was shipwrecked off the coast of Porto Rico, which is present day Puerto Rico, and his gold was lost to the ocean.  He was later killed by Indians.
Likes: Gold
Dislikes: Losing gold
Most Famous For: Nothing.  i made him up. neener!  

4. Francisco Vasquez de Coronado b.ca.1510 d.1554
Coronado went to the Americas and made peace with the Indians, settled a colony, and married a rich lady. Then he heard the rumors of the Seven Cities of Cibola. Supposedly Cibola was a very rich place. So of course, Coronado wanted a piece of the action and took off towards present day New Mexico in search of these seven golden cities.  He found poor Indian Villages. He forced Catholicism on the Indians and when they tried to resist, he conquered the Zuni and Hopi Pueblo villages of Hawikuh. Still no gold.  He moved on through Texas, and found no gold.  He then made it to Kansas and well, you know.  Kansas. When he got back to Mexico he was in trouble for not finding any gold and was later tried and convicted of corruption and for killing Indians. So he retired and died some years later.
Likes: Gold, God, Glory… in that order
Dislikes: not finding gold
Searched for: Seven Golden Cities of Cibola
Found: Wichita, Kansas  

3. Pedro de Alvarado b. i dunno d. who cares?
Pedro explored much of Mexico and Central America and was Cortez’z right-hand man.  In fact, when Cortez had to move on after raiding the Aztec capital Tenochtitlan, he left Pedro in charge. How’s that for ‘sponsitility? Later, on his own, he conquered Guatemala (read: killed a ton of Indians). And then he followed Pizarro around. Pizarro didn’t like him and sent him back to Guatemala.  Pedro then went exploring around Northern Mexico but by that time Cortez didn’t like him either and sent him back to Guatemala. He died while fighting an Indian raid.  Later that year, Guatemala was destroyed by “de Agua” which was a volcano.
Likes: Killing Indians
Dislikes: Not killing Indians
Did Jaimie make this one up: Surprisingly, no.
Not even the part about the volcano: nope. that’s true too.  

2. Hernando De Soto b.1496 d.1542
First he explored New Spain (Panama y Peru) and then he settled down in Seville, Spain.  But the quite, rich and glorified life wasn’t enough for this conquistador so he sold all his possessions to equip his own expedition to a magic kingdom known as..er the “island” of “Florida”.  “Florida” at this time was everything east of the Mississippi River.  He spent three (3) years exploring this region which included South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, and of course, Florida.  He discovered Lake Michigan as well as Branson, Missouri.  During this time he killed lots of Indians.  When he reached the Mississippi River he got sick with a fever and then died.  His army then stuck his body in a tree trunk and sunk it to the bottom of the river so the Indians could not find his body and therefore not know that he was dead.
Likes: adventure, exploring, squandering a fortune in order to do more exploring
Dislikes: being comfortable, wealthy, waited on while he could be out there doing lots of exploring
Major Turn Off: not exploring
Major Turn Ons: killing Indians while exploring, spreading Catholicism
Famous For: Exploring, spreading European diseases to the fragile immune system of the Indians  

1. Hernan Cortez b.1485 d.1547 (can also be spelled Cortes, but i like the ‘z’)
Cortez was the conquistador’s conquistador. He quit school to become an adventurer and got himself a ride to Hispaniola.  He then helped Diego Velazquez conquer Cuba.  Then he sailed to Yucatan, Mexico where he conquered in the name of Spain, God, and Himself. He then hooked up with a Mexican lady and learned much of the Mexican culture.  Then he founded Veracruz City. Then he decided to take on the Aztecs,who were led by Montezuma, but first he made friends with all of the Aztec’s enemies.  Then he marched into the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan, and was honored because the Aztecs (Montezuma included) kinda thought he was Quetzalcoatl, a god.  The Aztecs basically gave him the city.  He then killed them all and took all their gold. Then, when they had no more gold to give he made them mine for even more gold.  Emperor Charles V put Cortez in charge of New Spain. He died years later in Seville, Spain.
Likes: Gold, God, Slavery
Dislikes: Aztecs, things that are not gold
Favorite color: Gold
Things he likes more than gold: Gold, himself (in that order)
When asked which he preferred gold or silver he chose: Gold
Favorite element on the periodic table: Au
Favorite Bond film: Goldfinger
Favorite Olympic medal: Gold
Will Jaimie stop here: no
Favorite Dog: Golden Retriever
Favorite rule: Golden
Favorite former British territory in Africa: Gold Coast
Jaimie you should have stopped by now: i know    

some things to think about:
King Charles I of Spain was also Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. 
During this time Henry VIII ruled England and ticked off the pope.
Italy was having a smashing Renaissance.
Martin Luther was instigating a Reformation.
Columbus was not Spanish therefore i did not include him as a conquistador.  Also, Ferdinand Magellan was Portuguese (read: not from Spain) and i counted him as a conquistador, that makes me wishy-washy.  

well kids, there you have it.

one quick note, my father tells me he used to be a conquistador, like, before i was born.  and mom says she “conquistadors” all the time.  she “conquistadored” two kids, “conquistadored” a preschool, she “conquistadored” a pot of coffee this morning, you know… that kind of thing.  so anyway, “conquistador” is the new verb of choice at the Pickle House this week. 
dad and i tried to explain to her that the word conquistador is a noun and not a verb but she didn’t care.  she really likes that word.   

next week’s epitomb: i can’t think of anything at the moment.  any suggestions?
try not to conquistador too hard this week,  

jaimie “today Tenochtitlan, tomorrow the world” pickle  

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The One About Paranoia

Category: weekleez

The One About Paranoia
Tuesday, July 31, 2001

ok, it all started with a book i was trying to read.  

no wait, first of all i’m not paranoid.  okay? and even if i was paranoid i certainly wouldn’t tell any of you about my paranoia because, well, sha. i’m glad that’s out then.  now where was i?  

right, the book.  the book i was trying to read was titled Conspiranoia! The Mother of all Conspiracy Theories and it was about all of these conspiracy theories and how one could combine them all to make this huge outlandish conspiracy.  i thought it would be entertaining. i mean, i have no idea why that book was even in the nonfiction section and normally i wouldn’t read anything so silly but the library didn’t have any books on Spain so what’s a girl to do?  

so i try to read this book but it’s mainly just a dictionary.  all it has in it are short descriptions of secret societies, government agencies, religious groups etc.  there weren’t any stories or anything, just opinionated definitions and well, after 100 pages of that i had to stop reading because it was becoming redundant and slightly annoying.   

now, i got to thinking about those really paranoid conspiracist people, you know the ones.  they think that the government is out to kill us, test us, or kill us by testing us.  and the way they see it, it’s Us vs. Them.  and well, okay that’s fine, but really isn’t it You vs. Them?  because quite frankly, i wouldn’t trust the “Us” team any farther than i could throw the “Them” team. i’m not on either side and if that makes me paranoid then so be it.  

one thing i did “learn” from that book is that the conspiracists give a lot of credit to the freemasons.  apparently the freemasons have their hands in everything.  they even claimed that the freemasons were involved in all the revolutions of the 18th century.  well, that’s worth a laugh isn’t it?  i’m picturing fez-wearing shriners riding around in tiny cars and dressed like native americans scattering tea and shouting, “vive la france!” while tugging the end of a rope on a guillotine.  dirty trouble makers.  

so yeah, of course the freemasons are out to get you. 
’cause you’re so important.

these paranoid people really need to get out from under themselves.  who do they think they are anyway? ok sure, i won’t shop at radio shack because they ask personal questions like, “what’s your zip code, phone number, and blood type?” and if that makes me paranoid then so be it.   

but some of these people spend most of their day avoiding public places and reading Popular Science, they actually believe in black military helicopters, Area 51 is their Graceland, and AND the FBI, CIA, and NSA are trying to “cover up” stuff.  stuff that, if it were to “get out” would jeopardize the lives of… of…. people.  secret people.  freemasons.
and i may hide out in a lead room with 6 months worth of techno mags, but please, UFOs? i mean, maybe i’m paranoid, but i’m not crazy!  

so really, this whole paranoid thing is about ego, right?  well let me help you.  

look, the government isn’t after you.  all you have to do is pay your taxes and they pretty much leave you alone, okay? barring of course, that they are tracing your every move via the implant they gave you at birth.  and we all have those so it’s not like you’re special or anything.  and don’t worry, they’re not going to clone you.  you’re a pasty, bleary-eyed geek who knows too much.  they want humanoid drones, not people like you and me.  we know things.  freemason things.  

so here’s the deal.

your phone isn’t tapped. because you don’t have any friends, Mafia bosses, or informants who want to talk to you.
the USDA is not poisoning your meat. they’re poisoning everyone’s meat.
and you think proctor and gamble’s logo is a symbol of satan? that’s so 1980s.
there’s no sense in worrying about the “impending” new world order or any other “big brother” (pronounced beeg brahther) conspiracy, because there’s no way that ANY government, society, or religious group can be that organized.  oh, um. except for that one religion…Microsoft. 

sorry kids, it’s a digital world now and unfortunately your worst orwellian nightmare has come true, and you let it happen with a mere “click” on that “start button” in the corner of your screen. and what your now laughing, Macintosh using counterparts fail to realize is that while you’ve been sucked into a web of personal, private information and deceit, they’ve had their souls swallowed by that evil bite taken out of that “cute” little apple they’ve stared at every day since they’ve sat at that machine.   
(wow laura, you’re like, totally screwed. bummer.)  

and ok, so sure this weekly was more convoluted than LBJ’s Dictaphone tapes and J. Edgar Hoover’s laundry put together, but really, who cares?  

anyway, next week’s weekly should have something to do with spain although i’m thinking of just throwing that one out and doing one on wales.  because like, llywlwlwwwyylllnnym.  ha ha!  if you were welsh you’d be laughing.  
no you wouldn’t.  gwdwynbrym!  feh!  

next week’s episode: A battle royale between the 10 most popular conquistadors!  of course, there’ll not be a number six so…  

jaimie “i’m not really paranoid you know. no really, i don’t believe any of that crap.  it was just supposed to be funny y’know? you do believe me right? liz, you believe me don’t you? jimmy? mommy?! derp?” pickle

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The One About Intolerence

Category: weekleez

The One About Intolerence
Tuesday, July 24, 2001

hi kids… or should i say, potential victims?  

ok, so you guys know me.  i’m not a mover or a shaker. i don’t rock the boat.  i don’t even get on the boat if i can help it. i just kinda stay on the middle half of the road. but every once and a while life throws you a wicket and you have to deal. that means boat rocking.  

now for the most part i live in a bubble world where the air is sweet, people are cool and happy and live together in harmony, and the only malevolent thoughts are of the moron we call Mr. President… wait that’s another weekly. entirely.  

ok, my bubble world. now i’m not so naive to think that people always get along and never disagree and make love and not war and peace, love, and locomotives bladdy bladdy bladdy. i do read the news paper.  gosh that Dagwood Bumstead is quite a character isn’t he?!  

so anyway. i walk the middle of the road with the word “post-modern” stamped on my forehead and i look down as i walk so as not to trip on any wickets or anything.  and this usually works for me.  

but sometimes i look up and over to the far right and geez, look at those freaks over there! so i quickly avert my eyes. and if i’m feeling adventurous i’ll look over to the far left… *scream* scary!  

ok, where’s my soapbox?  there it is!  

but you know, as long as no one is getting hurt i guess everything’s cool, no matter how scary that militia might seem. but there’s always one jerk.  one narrow minded jerk that manages to push a button and piss everyone off and well, i hate that guy.
so basically what i’m saying here is i abhor intolerance. 

i mean, who do you think you are you close-minded, freaky, political windbag, superficial, animal testing, gun carrying, jerk activist, piece of sawed off religious zealot, ultra feminist, male chauvinist, member of the olympic committee, monopoly owning, lobbying son of a liberal jerk moron conservadork?! yeah!  

to me, intolerance is more counter-productive than EuroDisney and Crystal Pepsi put together. that’s a whole lot of suckage, you guys.  

i mean, if life is so precious to you, why are you bombing a women’s clinic… with people inside?!  what kind of freak are you?  

if i’m gonna hate a person it’s not going to be because of race, creed, sexual preference, etc. nope.  i hate you ’cause you’re a moron.  very simple. very easy.  i don’t hate “your people” i just hate you.  so shut up and take your judgmental, hurtful gob to the end of the line.  

and i know what you’re thinking, “but jaimie, doesn’t that sort of make you intolerant?”  

well, as a matter of fact, i am intolerant.
i’ve been on an anti-lactose campaign for a while now.  i can’t digest it, i can’t stand it and i simply will not tolerate the stuff.
Dairy products be damned!  

heck, i can’t digest anything.  i’m lactose intolerant, breakfast intolerant, lunch and dinner intolerant.  i won’t even attempt a midnight snack. so i’m tired of food. it doesn’t matter what i eat, 15 minutes later i’m camping on the pot for an hour.  hey, i’m not ashamed.  in fact, this “little” diarrhea “problem” has humbled me quite a bit this last year. 
to tell you the truth, i can’t figure out how i’m still alive.  i’ve been to a doctor and a specialist and still, after i eat i’ve gotta make a mad dash to the little girl’s room before something “really bad” happens.
Montezuma’s revenge?
what did i do to montezuma?  

so as far as i’m concerned all of you out there who can enjoy a meal or a snack or a feast the likes of Henry VIII could only dream of… well, you can have the food.  

i don’t want it anymore.  

unfortunately, i need food. so i’ve decided to let the food work for me. because nothing stays in my system long enough to do any good i figure it doesn’t matter what i eat. so i’ve decided to only eat foods that offer me something other than “nutrition”.  basically i’ll only eat foods that offer me a free toy or a chance to win something like money, a toy, or a bionic stomach.  so unless the package has a really big “FREE” or “WIN” on it, well, i don’t want any part of it.   

i know what you’re thinking, “meat products don’t have contests! will jaimie become a vegetarian?”
well, first off, of course not!  i’ll continue to eat beef jerky (for scientific purposes) so i’ll be getting a random amount of protein and nitrates in my system. no worries! and secondly, why would you care if i became a meat eating vegan anyway?  

so it looks as though i’ll be eating a lot of chocolate bars, breakfast cereals, and potato chips. Aw, crap.  

the only thing that really concerns me is that the macaroni and cheese food group rarely has toys and contests, likewise with produce.  

and speaking of the produce department, i saw the biggest, thickest ‘fro i’ve ever seen stacking fruit in the produce section of the supermarket the other day. i kid you not. i mean, this is the most impressive shock of thick black ‘fro-ness that i’ve ever seen on a Caucasian. i wanted to shake the kid’s hand, and then ask if he’d run down the aisle.  ’cause, you guys, i really want to see that ‘fro run. i’ll bet it’s glorious.  

so anyway yeah, food is killing me.  and i spend more time in the bathroom than i care to mention here in this email. but lucky for you i’ve started a new section on the webpage called “Aw, Crap!” and it’s all about… you know.  

so what have we learned today kids?
intolerance is the devil’s playground. so all you hateful meanies are nothing more than dirty birds!  feh! nyaa nyaa!
also, food.
food hurts.  food can hurt just as much as something a hateful close-minded, freaky, political windbag, superficial, animal testing, gun carrying, jerk activist, piece of sawed off religious zealot, ultra feminist, male chauvinist, member of the olympic committee, monopoly owning, lobbying son of a liberal jerk moron conservadork would say to someone who wasn’t “like” him.   

and maybe next week i’ll get to write one about spain.  

jaimie “why is moses packin’ heat?” pickle

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The One About the Tarantulas

Category: weekleez

The One About the Tarantulas
Tuesday, 17, 2001

i don’t think i can do it this week, you guys.  

so it was supposed to be about Spain this week.  but the library didn’t have a book about Spain! canyoufreakinbelievethat? the massive hall of books did not have one historical book on Spain.  not even one of those horrible Oxford’s Illustrated History of… books.  gheederp?  

so i’ll have to research Spain when i have more time.  sheesh. i do more research  for these weekleez than i’ve ever done for anything.  sad isn’t it?  

i really need to do one on a literary theme don’t i?  i’ve thrown the mathgeeks a bone and the history/geography dorks a bone and even the biologynerds got a couple. but what have i done for all those English majors or Literature goons?  i guess that’s where the prefixes were going to come in.  funny thing that. i was going to do this cool thing with prefixes and then i forgot what it was that i was going to do with them.  not a total shocker or anything, but it still disturbs me that i can’t even remember a little bit about what i was going to do with those darn prefixes. trust me, as soon as i think of it, The One About The Prefixes will be, um…it’ll just be.  

and so today i give you a parafable.  it’s been too long since i’ve done a parafable.  

a couple of weeks ago i was sitting at work and working ever so hard on a sign or a design or something really workful and boy, i was working hard wasn’t i?  and i’m sure you guys know how it is when you’ve been looking at a computer all day long, you get tired of the screen and you have to stand up and walk around a bit or something, right?  well, when my eyes and arse are tired i tend to pick up a broom and sweep the floor.  it keeps me humble. ain’t no shame in sweeping.  

so i’m sweeping and i look around and i notice that there’s a large amount of those granddaddy longlegs spiders on the walls.  and i think to myself, “geez, that’s a lot of granddaddy longlegs!” and of course when you see these spiders there’s always someone who points out that, “those are the most poisonous spiders ever and aren’t we lucky that their mouths are too small to bite us?” DERP?

and so no one points that out to me ’cause i was the only one in the room but i thought about someone pointing out that fact about the poison and all so it was almost kinda just like someone was there.  

and really, i have no idea if those spiders are as poisonous as people say they are. i don’t even know if they’re spiders.  but i do know that i didn’t want them in the office.  so i did what any normal, bug-hating, i-gotta-broom-in-my-hand-you’re-going-down, human would do. well, i would like to say that i very gracefully maneuvered the broom in a katana-like fashion complete with glistening highlights and “shing” metal noises and finishing with a matrix-slow-mo back flip and several bug carcasses at my feet ready to be swept up and put in the rubbish bin with the rest of the drug lords and street punks that i’d taken down that day.  

only it didn’t quite happen that way.  

i decided that i should probably take them on one at a time in order to give them a sporting chance.  i mean, let’s say you and your buddy are standing around the proverbial watercooler and all of a sudden Murray from accounting walks by and is clobbered by a bunch of stiff straw tied to the end of a very unforgiving stick.  popquiz hotshot.  are you gonna stand there or are you gonna flee like the spineless, still living, thing you are? that’s right, you’re gonna run.  smart fella.  

apparently bugs is stoopid.
i knocked one of the tramps to the ground and noticed that all his buddies just kinda didn’t move.  so much for sporting chance.  so i proceeded to smack the wall with my trusty broom and managed to knock all the icky bugs to their almost doom.
that’s right, almost doom.
they didn’t die. 
so now there’s 8 or 10 of these buggers walking, staggering, lurching, and blending into the floor.  shouldn’t they be dead?  i knocked the stuffing outta them! so in a very girl-like manner i took to bashing at the small army of legs with my broom of doom, and also in a very girl-like manner i yelled, “DIE!  WHY WON”T YOU JUST DIE?!”  

at this point my boss says, “jaimie, what’re you doing out there?”
“um, sweeping the floor….”
“well, what’s all that banging on the walls?”
“uhhhh the um, broom?”
“what?”
“uhhh the uh well, i’m taking my anger out on these uh, bugs.  it’s ummmmm er, theraputic y’know?”
i mean what’s more dorky? “uhhhhh anger management!” or telling your boss you were trying out faux-ninjitsu moves with a broom and taking on an “army” of fascist granddaddy long legs?  

so anyway it took me a lot longer to kill a swarm of those spiders than it should have.  and then afterwards i kinda had a paranoid thought of, “i wonder how they’ll get their revenge?”  and then i immediately thought, “you’re losing it. bugs don’t plot.”   and then it was something like, “of course they don’t plot, they scheme. wicked little…” and then it was back to, “snap out of it! bugs is stoopid.”  

then i sweep the floor and remember what it used to be like before the fascist bugs took over.
no wait, i went back to working really hard on something and forgot all about the spiders.  

about a week later…  

i’m running a little late to work one morning and seeing as how i have to open the place i’m really in a hurry.  there’s a lot to do when you open a place.  you gotta unlock the door, and turn off the alarm, and turn on all the lights and machines (and by machines i mean the radio) and well, gosh, talk about ‘sponsitility!  

so i’m late and i screech the jeep into a gravel churning halt and scramble out of the door and with a flick of the wrist i unlock the door, and charge over to the alarm. several digits later the alarm is satified and the shop is up and running.  *whew*  

ok, for those of you who know me.
i’m running late.  traffic is horrible but i don’t notice as i pull into a gas station and slowly pump the gas. i go in and pay for the gas and a rather large bucket of cola. still in my sleeplike stupor i drive the 20 mintutes to work with my stereo blasting a song i don’t even hear because i’m too busy trying to wipe the sleep from my eyes while balancing a huge caffeinated beverage and of course, steering a vehicle.  i pull into work and fall out of the jeep miraculously keeping the massive container of pop upright and spilling nary a drop.  pop, flannel shirt, lunch, and keys in hand i stumble to the door.  i put the key in the lock and twist and turn the pieces of metal several times before the thing actually unlocks.  i curse the almost breaking lock as is part of my morning ritual. 

out of the corner of my still-cloudy eye i notice a many-legged bug.  too late. i’m surrounded.   i’ve just opened the door so the alarm is screaming, i start to walk thru the door when i feel two pelts hit the back of my neck and start crawling. “BLOODY HELL!” i yell among other things.  i drop everything but the soda and swat at the back of my head as i make my way to the alarm.  the phone starts ringing.  i’m dancing a crazy “gotta bug on me!” dance towards the alarm i press the code and the alarm stops but the phone is still ringing.  i shimmy a “icky! icky! gack!” jig in the direction of the phone and set my drink down while contemplating jerking off my shirt to MAKE SURE no bugs are in there . i do one last full body shiver as i answer the phone while trying to sound like a normal person whose been hard at work for the past 20 minutes, “Sign shop!” i say ever so cheerfully.
“where have you been?” it’s my boss. “why do you sound out of breath? granddaddy longlegs? what? are you crying?”       

the moral of this story is this:
it doesn’t matter if grandaddy longlegs spiders are poisonous or not.  it’s the big picture you have to look at.
forget all that Jurassic Park III crap.  we all know that reptiles can think and hatch plans.  what we tend to forget however, is that bugs are just as wiley and devious as any creature.  they REMEMBER things!  they take things PERSONALLY!  and they CERTAINLY take REVENGE and dare i say, relish it?! and not only that, but they tend to adhere to a strict one-party dictatorship with a centralized governmental economic enterprise complete with racist nationalistic tendencies and a forcible suppression of opposition!
 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!  

will this eightlegged fascist nightmare ever end?  

eh, as long as we have brooms, who cares?  

next week: Spain.  What’s that all about?  

jaimie “champagne wishes and caviar dreams” pickle  

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