hey, friends! chris and i have a website now: chrisandjackie.com. check out chris' haircut. it's great.

going out with a couple of swingers tonight. if i feel anything brush my thigh during dinner, the evening is over.

well, turns out i'm a morning person. all this time i thought i was a night person. for a while, i was convinced i was a mid-afternoon person. 3 pm was my time to shine. now, i'm waking up before 8 am every day and getting sooo much done. for instance, today i cured feline leukemia. it took a while, but it was just a matter of isolating the gene and then feeding it tomato sauce. not just any tomato sauce- it was laced with a hallucinogen. now i have to work on helping all those cats deal with the flashbacks and the sweaty tremors.

maybe tomorrow morning.

this evening when i left work, i walked out to my car. it was parked in a handicap spot. the first thing i thought was, "who moved my car?" because lord knows i would never be as oblivious as to park in the spot with the big "$100 fee" sign in front of it and the yellow wheelchair graphic painted right there on the asphalt. the second thing i thought was, "huh. i must have parked in the handicap spot. oops." i guess the walk into the store today *did* take less time than usual. again: huh.

luckily, there was no ticket. which makes me think: maybe i'll park there again tomorrow.

boys, sign up for an imaginary girlfriend, or, girls, sign up to BE an imaginary girlfriend!!

i have found my calling. "have fun and earn cash!"

We're looking for someone who can provide an authentic long-distance girlfriend experience with a minimum of actual interaction. This may require creativity or improv skills in some cases to ensure that the appearance of a real relationship is maintained. Of course no actual romantic relationships are involved and you will never be encouraged to be a real life girlfriend in any situation. Imaginary Girlfriends are just that -- imaginary!

i can totally do this. i can send long, rose-scented letters detailing what a pillar he's been in my life; without him, i would have never made it through vet school. he's such a rock. next time i see him, i will reward him with heart-shaped hamburgers and a hot tub filled with rose petals. i, of course, will be in the hot tub, too- naked. i'm one hell of a girlfriend, always writing letters about getting naked. and saving dogs.

seriously, this seems like a load of fun. now all i need to do is find a semi-decent picture of myself. the only thing is, even though i would be imaginary, my "client" would surely fall in love with me from reading my letters. so how would i let him down easy? i'd have to say, "i don't even know how to make regular hamburgers, let alone heart shaped ones. and, yeah, i also lied about being an extra in along came polly. you big fucking loser."

the shirt i'm wearing to work today is one of those 1 piece shirts that looks like it's 2 pieces. it appears to be a vest with a white blouse underneath it, but really it's just a vest with bits of a white collared shirt sewn all around it. it's ri-goddamn-diculous. supposedly, this is the fashion right now. i don't even know why i bought it; i feel silly, like i'm trying to pull one over on the general public. i'm going to go to work today and just wait for somebody to announce, eyes narrowed, "you don't fool me. i know that's only one shirt, not two. who the hell wears a vest surrounded by half a blouse?" this is the point that i will start crying, blathering, "but it was on sale! and the mannequin looked so damn cute in it."

the mannequin, they will point out, also had bigger boobs. which doesn't have anything to do with the shirt, but, as a sidenote, i'd like for the fashion people to start using flatter mannequins, as to not cause me to drink. either that, or to still use the big breasted mannequins BUT add overly large, but realistic, pointy nipples. also, a little armpit hair.

today's word of the day:

flibbertigibbet \FLIB-ur-tee-jib-it\, noun:
A silly, flighty, or scatterbrained person, especially a pert young woman with such qualities.

chris and i are having a slumber party tonight. we're renting movies, sleeping in the living room, eating popcorn, and drinking. we're going to maybe have a pillow fight and tell scary stories. i still haven't broached the issue of whether or not he will do my hair; i want a head full of little, kicky braids. the slumber party was his idea; i just think he's excited about sleeping on the fold-out couch.

and who wouldn't be? it's right in front of a tv.

aside from ash wednesday, it's also lumberjack day, national chocolate covered peanuts day, let's all eat right day, and national don't utter a word day. i wish i were joking. lumberjack day is to be celebrated by wearing flannel. i'm sure it's also known as 1993 day.

i'm trying to absorb as much trivia as i can, for i've decided that i'm going on a game show. it'll be fun! even if i don't win, i'm sure to at least get a parting gift. i sure could use a lifetime supply of vacuum cleaner bags.

here's a link where you get to electrify children. whee, fun!

when are jazz hands NOT appropriate? i just can't find an occasion that they don't belong in.

happy birthday to winslow homer, american painter that created above's picture "dressing for the carnival." what a depressing carnival they must have been dressing for.

i got my promotion at work yesterday. the pay increase will be more than the aforementioned measly 70 cents. for this, i am thankful. also thankful for: dairy products, crossword puzzles, everything-must-go sales, and socks.

you know what i really hate? web pages that, when opened, play really loud, obnoxious music. what's the point, people? help me understand.

i went to a poetry slam on sunday night. i realized something while at this poetry slam:

it's not really a poetry slam- it's a journal slam or a lecture slam. it's a girl up there reading something about this boy that she liked and how he could drink 40 oz of malt liquor in under 20 minutes and so that's why they didn't sleep together OR it's a boy up there telling you about having to be free, to be yourself, to not buy so much pepsi or nikes.

when i really went there for the poetry. but it's a dying art, like proper usage of the turn signal or banana seat bicycles.

who's your favorite poet? mine is laura. admittedly, she's a little "journal," but she's not so much "lecture." besides, it's great.

my lap top is whirring with the sounds of "erasure." who doesn't love "erasure?" okay, don't answer.

friday night, the bergers and the doughertys went out for a night of expensive sea food and drunken revelry at the karaoke bar. i only say "the bergers" and "the doughertys" instead of "chris and jackie" and "dan and rachel" because there was one point in the bar where rachel and i were planning our weddings. "chris is going to be one of your groomsmen, right?" i said to dan, to which he replied to chris, "help."

ah, yes.

it was a load of fun. some of my other friends met us at the bar as well, and since i was in such good company, i kept drinking and drinking and drinking, only to pass out later and wake up the next afternoon with a lot of questions of where everyone went. yesterday, i felt a bit ill all day. chris and i spent some time at the hospital as well; his aunt had emergency surgery to remove a newly found tumor from her liver. they're saying she should be okay, but there was one point in the hospital when the doctor came out to talk to chris' uncle, and the waiting room, filled with family (and me), became so horribly, deadly silent that i felt like crying a little myself. it's hard to imagine anything bad happening to this particular aunt; she's a gorgeous, youthful lady, and bad things just don't happen to people who appear so happy and healthy and totally together. that's just my take on things, but i'm a little naive. anyways, again, she's doing okay at the moment, and since the tumor's now gone, let's hope that the problem itself is completely solved.

what a family chris has-- so close knit and always there for one another. it's a large family, not like my little handful, and being there last night made me think of how lucky they all are, and what's really important- the people in your life. so it's ironic that i wasn't able to hang out with carole last night due to how tired and drained i was. carole's one of my best friends. i'm considering introducing people to carole by saying that she's my sister-- and instead of drunkenly announcing to people that i've known dan since i was ten, i think i'm just going to tell people that he's my brother. it's close to the truth, except for all those genetic details.

and now it's sunday morning. it's a gorgeous february day, the kind that reminds you that spring isn't all that far away. a morning like this, sunny and not very cold after a dull, grey, frigid winter, is like a taste of chocolate after being on a bran and grapefruit diet. or a piece of steak or a baked potato topped with cheese and sour cream and bacon. depending, of course, on what you're in the mood for.

the day of posts

and now here's a sample of my mother's writing:

Now, marcia is driving my dodge, and I am driving Aldo's bick...It is a
nice riding car, but a gasssss gusler.....I picture Grandpa luigi is riding
with me.....He was always so picky with his car...Who would of thought I would
be driving his car...Al is driving the truck now...The word bick should be buick......

notice she didn't say anything about the word "gusler." or "gasssss."

crazytown.

and now i share something deeply personal:

i went through some stuff this morning, and i found the wisest letter my father ever wrote me. after i finished sobbing, i decided that i had to immortalize it, and share it, because so many things get lost. what other venue do i have than this fucking blog? i don't 100% agree with him for certain parts, but, well, here it is.

dear jaclyn,

i wrote this letter because i care about you and the relationship i hope to maintain with you. when you stated that your mother and i should have divorced ten years ago, i was bothered, at first. after some thought, i realized that you are young and do not fully comprehend what a long term relationship is about. i have been married to your mother for 22 years, and i can tell you, situations can get very complicated when people live together. disagreements and problems are not easily resolved. add to that all the responsibilities of raising children and everyday problems that we have to bear, and you can easily lose focus, and make mistakes.

when i married your mother, i had only a few goals that i wanted to achieve in life. i wanted to have a family with her, see that the children were raised properly, to have a close relationship with you and marcia, and to live "happily ever after." of course, i wanted everybody's life to be perfect. i did not want to be angry towards your mother, and i did not want to set a bad example for you and marcia. i had other goals also, some i achieved, and some i didn't. though i have good intentions, i cannot be successful at everything i do, every relationship i have, and any endeavor i enter into. i can only do as good as my skills allow. sometimes that is not enough and i am not some perfect human being. i am only your father.

i do know one thing- if i had divorced your mother 10 years ago, i would have missed 10 years of your life, and i'm glad i didn't do that.

jaclyn, you also stated that me and your mother will never get along well. that we will always yell and argue. well, i have to tell you i think as time goes on, me and your mother will get along better and better. i will do my part and so will your mother. this i truly hope. i think that it can and will happen.

for myself, i feel that this time of my life is the most difficult, as i have everyone in the family depending on me. i am responsible for everyone's welfare. do you want me to give up? is that what you think i should have done 10 years ago? i can't abandon my family and not care about you, marcia, and your mother. i made a committment to her and to you and marcia. i can't walk away from this family and not see my goals come to fruition. and i will not take the easy way out. just like that song said, "you have to go through hell to get to heaven" is how i see this phase of my life. finally, i hope i have been a good father to you and that you remember some good things about me. don't be so hard on me and your mother, she gave you life and we both love you.

your father

please send me money.

i will also accept a money order. visa, mastercard, even vasa or moostercard. didn't i lend you, like, four thousand dollars last year? what do you mean you don't remember that happening? you owe me, bitch.

i've seen those little "make a donation" buttons on people's blogs. sometimes, i really want to get one of those, but then i stop to think: 1, no one will give me anything, and 2, i'm not blogging for the cash, and 3, it doesn't seem like the classiest thing on the planet to do. this coming from a girl who linked her amazon wishlist under the title "buy me stuff." and who starts her blog entry: "please send me money."

aw, fuck. don't send me anything.

unless you really want to.

am i a bad writer if, instead of saying,

the room was filled solely with gentlemen,

i say,

it was a sausage fest.

????

i was never good at connect four. so it would follow that i'd be even worse at connect five.

i'm not especially excellent at any game. i'm above average in scrabble, but i do still get blown away by other above average players. i'm decent in trivial pursuit, but it also helps if i'm playing against fourth graders. charades? you would think that being italian, i'd have the hand gestures down pat, but i notice that i tend to use the same hand gestures for a variety of different things. like, "i'm eating some pasta" and "i'm in the navy and ship out tomorrow" look exactly the same.

i either suck or rule at games of chance. but so does everyone.

i don't play sports. once, i was on a softball team when i was a wee little one, and i've spent the last sixteen years trying to erase the whole incident from my head. i can't play volleyball because i bruise my wrists. i can't play tennis because my forearms are weak. i can't play basketball because it's too much running around, and i'm usually in heeled boots. ice hockey? ha. now that would make a good sitcom.

i'm not bad at mystery date.

In 1872, the ship Mary Celeste was discovered at sea. Everyone aboard the Mary Celeste had vanished- the captain, his family, and its 14-man crew. The fate of the crew remains unknown.- from www.infoplease.com

i wonder if they checked the closets.

i wonder if the ship had docked at a burger king, and when everybody got off to get their whoppers and dr. seuss ornaments, the ship simply floated away.

i wonder if, when thinking of the 14-man crew, they had confused the mary celeste with some other ship, when indeed nobody had ever boarded the mary celeste in the first place except the ghost pirate and his "i've been dead for fifteen years" co-pirate.

i wonder if there was a time machine on board and the occupants of the mary celeste will show up in 2006 aboard a cruise ship that i happen to be on as well. then i can say, "let's use that time machine to go back to the renaissance! but only for an hour or two because i'm having fun on this cruise."

i wonder if they all evaporated due to a science experiment gone haywire.

i wonder if the mary celeste was a suicide mission, and they all threw themselves overboard due to things their mothers said to them and their sophomore year homecoming dance not quite working out.

i wonder if they checked ALL the closets.

be prepared.

i'm teaching a class. here are the supplies that you will need:

• four number 2 pencils, or one number 8 pencil.


• one oversized novelty pencil, from busch gardens.


• one black pen, one red pen, one blue pen, one fountain pen, one gel pen, one ballpoint, one erasable pen, one flashlight pen.


• hole puncher.


• folders labeled: "completed homework," "homework i plan on completing," "homework i have no plan to complete," "notes concerning homework," "notes concerning attractive people in the class," "notes from the underground by fyodor dostoyevsky," "notes on cliffnotes for notes from the underground by fyodor dostoyevsky," "notes from other classes," "pictures of koko the gorilla, ambassador to humans."


• one stack wide ruled paper. usage of college ruled paper will result in automatic reduction of grade.


• graphing calculator, for graphing. and calculating.


• one duran duran trapper keeper, complete with velcro.


• twelve sheets red construction paper.


• one bag pretzels.


• one english-japanese dictionary.


• two gallons correction fluid.


• one yard stick.


• one pair safety scissors.


• light-up, 20" diameter globe, or single, fold-up map of el paso, texas and surrounding communities.


• bingo markers, OR rubber cement, OR heavy duty staple gun, OR a mini-refrigerator. stocked.


• supplies from which to construct a sock puppet. please make sure sock has been properly laundered first.


• 16 mm film reels.


• six test tubes, preferably with the babies already inside of them.

also, be prepared to pay the following fees:

• $30 sign-up free.


• $60 anticipated graduation fee.


• $20 pitch-in fee for teacher's gift during certain holidays.


• $200 lab fee.


• $50 fee just for looking at the lab.


• $80 hot lunch fee, or $70 "i choose to brown bag it" fee.


• $5 fee if you plan on using my kleenex.


• $90 enlightenment fee.


• $450 per credit hour. i'm still trying to decide if i'm offering 10 credits, 12 credits, or 60 credits.

stay tuned for when i list required reading and course syllabus.

not that i need a little skirt to hide my thighs- because, believe me, boys, they're fantastic- but i really want to find a 1930's style bathing suit to wear. i want the skirt and the modest top and even the little sunhat. why? because it spells class. c-l-a-s-s. class.

it took me forever to find that image, and it's not even a good one, but i felt kind of odd searching through pages and pages of bikini-clad girls in order to find that suit i had in mind. it started to strike me, after a while, as humorous, perverted, and homosexual. although i am humorous, i am no perverted homosexual.... not that there's anything wrong with that, as all of my perverted homosexual friends will attest to- but, anyways, this is the image that you image-thirsty fucks will have to deal with.

find me a bathing suit like this, okay?

i love roger williams university.

last night, i had a hundred dreams. i dreamt of ghost babies in cowboy suits, old folks at the old folks home, the deep south, working at wal-mart, shopping at wal-mart in order to find the perfect gift for a spoiled rich girl that was dying, alternate universes, moving to memphis for love, missing my love, living in a stinky garage, toys that had personalities, decorated mansions twinkling in the nighttime, my parents driving me around in a station wagon, having the newspaper delivered three times a week, attending school in my underwear, and playing miniature golf with the sister of a kidnapped child. i think i let her win.

today is presidents' day. let's enjoy a quote by roosevelt on this day: "speak softly and carry a big stick." now let's enjoy a quote by jackie on this day: "opticals are always busy on presidents' day, which is why i go to work muttering softly and carrying a big stick."

there was sherry in the lobster bisque and wine in my glass, and thus i was completely out of it by about 7 pm last night, passing out in my bed and waking briefly only to strip out of my clothes and pop my contacts out. you might call it a waste of an evening, but this morning i woke up at 8 am feeling fresh and alive after all that sleep. today i work only 4 hours, which is sad because i have to work but good because the 4 hours should fly by. hopefully. i'm feeling really stressed out about my job lately, but i pray that those feelings will pass. i also pray that in a couple of months, i maybe won't be there be anymore.... if chris gets this other job or if i get off my ass and get another job.... sigh. working is such bullshit. i talk to people who love their jobs, and i just don't understand it.

sometimes i think i should become a waitress or a bartender. really just chuck my degree even farther out the window and take some menial job that requires less thought so i can concentrate on my other pursuits. i'm jealous of andrew and jessica- andrew who's trying to make it as a writer and jessica who's making a career out of a passion for photography. i'm jealous of dan who makes coffee for 25 hours a week and then spends another 30 hours making art and music. they're braver than i am, more ambitious, and not afraid to follow their dreams.

this girl i work with, gina, is 19 years old. she complains of how old she is and how she fears that her life is going to be spent doing menial work while lacking any creative endeavors or exciting adventures. "gina," i sighed, "i'm 23. imagine how the fuck i feel." i guess even 23 is not that old, but the caution signs are going up. they're bright yellow with big flashing lights, and i'm ready to start paving out that detour.

i need less talk and more walk. less words, more action.

In the Middle Ages, the belief that birds chose their mates on St. Valentine's Day led to the idea that boys and girls would do the same.

well, that's just great. so if birds do it, we gotta do it, too. if, say, last week, i believed that a bird shit on my windshield, should that lead to me and my friends shitting on each other's windshields as well? how many shitty windshields is it going to take, my brothers, until we realize that we are not birds?

as long as we're on this topic, i'm not eating bread crusts off the ground or building my home out of twigs, mud, and old condom wrappers. i'm also not feeding my young by first chewing up their food for them and then regurgitating it straight down their throats. birds are fucked up, man.

happy valentine's day!

ATTENTION:

Those truly interested in joining the "GULP" (Grown Ups Loving Pike) web ring, please email me at ferclyn@hotmail.com. Janice and I are spearheading this project, and you don't want to be left behind when GULP takes off and becomes world famous.

That is all.

** scroll down to read previous post about GULP.

some of you may read chris' blog. others may disregard it entirely, knowing that all the action you could want or need is right here. still others may occasionally click on the link to "infidels" and then have to immediately exit, having grown nauseous from all the wacky changing colors. his blog is a land where nothing is constant; hues morph into other hues, fonts are transformed with the click of a button, icicles grow up, and children grow down. it's a great blog, though. it wouldn't be number one on my list if it wasn't- besides the fact that i'm sleeping with the author.

anyhow, chris was contacted by microsoft for a possible job. they even told him that his lack of a degree was okay by them. now, we both know it's kind of a longshot, but if chris were to get this job- we'd be living in seattle. does everyone here know how i feel about seattle? it's great. it's beautiful, hip, progressive, clean, and full of sushi. when i was there, i got the impression that every person i came across was intelligent and cool, artistic and witty. kind of like yours truly. it's a wonderful city, and since i went a year and a half ago, i haven't stopped talking about how i would want to live there.

so if chris were to get this job, our decision would be relatively easy- except for the fact that it would kill my father, i'd miss our friends, and i was just promoted. but, hey, the possibility of moving is exciting for me; the possibility has always been exciting. again, there's a good chance that this recruiter may never contact chris again, but it's been an interesting week, full of interesting day dreams. now, if this company knew what was good for them, they'd hire chris in a heartbeat, because he's the smartest man alive (also, cutest), but sometimes the special ones get overlooked. just ask all the boys that didn't date me. oh, but how i digress.

everybody adores christopher pike, even adults. which is why i'm starting a club called grown-ups loving pike, or g.u.l.p. for short. since i came up with acronym, i'm automatically president.

in other news, yesterday was a hellish day at work. the girls in the doctor's office were unruly and overly rowdy, and then there was the doctor himself, telling jokes with sexual innuendoes in front of customers and then getting so out of control as to knock the clock off the wall. it was as if everyone had been drinking, but believe me, if there had been alcohol around, i would have found it. now, in my other store, i loved these shenannigans. in this store, when i know i'm stepping up to management and will be accountable for all this crap- oh, how i hate the shenannigans.

it's like somebody up there is trying to teach me a lesson. anyhow, did you know christopher pike's real name is kevin macfadden? if he had written under his real name, i might have named the club macfadden's older reading krowd, or m.o.r.k.

what a great picture.

here's my list of things to do:

1. emerge entire body into vat of lotion, as that seems like the "simple" solution these days to my dry-skin troubles.
2. continue to avoid certain customer's insistent phone calls at work, urging other associates to "take a message" when he calls, as i'm obviously too busy readjusting my socks.
3. design and execute perfect valentine's day gift- or just stop at hallmark on saturday afternoon.
4. resume daydreaming about doing that book-signing in new york after the release of my first bestseller. resume not thinging about what that bestseller could possibly be about.
5. stop signing other people's bestsellers at the train station or else face having my train riding privileges revoked. again.
6. finally win that jackpot at pogo.com
7. stop mentioning pogo.com to other people, as that decreases my chance of winning said jackpot.
8. consider starting rigorous exercise program.
9. consider starting rigorous "eating and lounging" program.
10. finish writing that letter to stephen hawking regarding my own personal black hole theory, which involves chicken dumpling soup and gremlins.
11. work on posture. walk with a book on my head. rig up a system where i will get electrified, or sucker punched, if i dare slouch.
12. memorize all elvis songs for upcoming trip to graceland so that i can wow all the other fans. get studded suit and sideburn wig back from dry cleaners.
13. finish reading kurt vonnegut novel so i can start the young adult christopher pike book that i got from the used book store. remind self not to let anyone know that i'm still reading young adult christopher pike books.
14. delete 13.
15. delete 14 after deleting 13 as 14 will no longer make sense.
16. should probably delete 15, too. and... d'oh!

the title to this article shouldn't be as funny as it is. sigh.

i think "91 ways to cheat on your partner" would be a good title for a book, the kind of book that only a woman would buy, of course. there would be 91 chapters, each more hysterical than the last.

don't steal my idea.

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.
--Cyril Connolly

hmm. what was cyril connolly trying to convey when he uttered these words? who is cyril connolly in the first place? and what kind of name is "cyril?".

the writing's not going too well. even the blog entries are painful to type. i realize sometimes that i don't have all that much to say after all. do i write for myself? yes, but then i dislike myself- both the writer and the reader. do i write for the public? pssh. you know, if somebody could offer me a weekly column in, say, "the el paso times," i would write for the public- meeting my deadlines and really having a passion about the whole thing- and the public would love it. i would make the public laugh and think and say, "isn't this girl phenomenal?" but since no one has offered me a weekly column in "the el paso times," i refuse to even try. why work for something you're not guaranteed to get?

well. that doesn't sound like the can-do spirit, now does it? it's a good thing i'm bipolar and tend to change my mind, feelings, and outlook every 16-23 minutes.

note: i am not really bipolar. and it's more like 13-17 minutes.

do you feel like your smile is a little boring?

ron grant can help!

is your dog about to die?

then do this!

my back twin

i met my back twin. from the back, she looked exactly like me with her curly, chin length hair, her thin frame, and her clothes that mirrored something i would wear- an orange hooded sweatshirt, jeans, and funky running shoes. val noticed her first, asking chris, "you do remember where we're sitting right?" for fear that he'd go join my back twin's table on his way back from the restroom. we decided that i needed a picture with my back twin; i scooted my chair a little closer to her table and tried to sit near her without her noticing as chris snapped a picture of our backsides. i walked around her table a few times, real casual-like, to get a look at her face, but she was definitely not my front twin with her pale, birdlike face and emerald-colored eyes. i got jen and nikki to walk with me, jen snapping another picture as we passed her backside, and all of us staring at her front side rather obviously as to continue the comparing.

"you have to approach her," everyone agreed, and finally i got val to go with and do the talking. we headed over to my back twin's table and val leaned in and said, "i'm sorry to bother you, but from the back, you look like my friend jackie." as she said that, i turned around to reveal my backside as if to say, "yeah? yeah? you see it, right? isn't this great?" i turned around again. my back twin was giving us a look as if to say, "alright, you creepy assholes, go back to wherever you came from." we quickly excused ourselves. i was a little sad that our conversation didn't last longer; i wanted to ask, all wide-eyed and hopeful, "is your name jackie, too?"

but seeing my back twin was one of my happiest moments ever, period.

what i've been doing

not much. got talked into buying three of the same sweaters, but in different colors, by an excellent salesperson at the gap. oh, shame on me. chris and i got a joint checking account together. if that isn't commitment and trust, i don't know what is. i will not be telling my parents about this joint checking account until chris and i have official plans to marry; at the bank yesterday, i could hear my dad's voice in my head lecturing about financial security and what a *smart* girl would do. but it only makes sense; chris and i pay the same bills, so why shouldn't bill money come from the same account? right? right. i filed my taxes today and am getting a b-e-a-utiful refund from the man. it's so nice to no longer be a dependent on somebody else's taxes, and since i filed online, i'll be eating prime rib and lobster in under ten days. we had sushi last night for dinner; the sushi came around on a kind of train track that circled around where all of the customers sat, and when you saw something you liked, you just reached out and grabbed it. it was kind of neat, like a rotating buffet. and you know how i feel about both buffets and things that rotate. mmm, yeah. i sang "black velvet" at karaoke the other night, and it was a big disaster. the night before, my friend amy and i went to another karaoke bar, and let me tell you, i don't what it was about that night, but i have never gotten hit on so much in my life. i guess that's what happens when you put a semi-attractive girl in a bar full of drunk men. i've been reading "player piano" by kurt vonnegut, and my love for him has been rekindled. he lost me after "timequake," but now we're back together again, and happy. i've been watching a lot of "the king of queens" on channel 26, the "u." you know what show i'm talking about- fat, funny man with skinny, smarter, more attractive wife. together, they are an unanimated marge and homer simpson or peter and lois griffin, an updated ralph and alice kramden, and a drew carey plus every sexy babe he's ever, rather unbelievably, been with. oh, tv.

my pizza's done- and a little misshapen, i might add.

the tax train is pulling into refundsville, population jackie. at least, i hope it is. i'm assuming that i'm going to get a huge pile of cash back from the government after i sit down and calculate my various calculations, but i suppose i've been wrong about other things before. namely that time my phone was ringing and i thought for sure that it was ferdinand magellan- for real, i couldn't have been more wrong about that one, and it still embarrasses me today to even bring it up. so i probably shouldn't have said anything.

i interviewed for a management position at my store that pays... 70 cents more per hour than what i'm making now. whoopee! i'll be living the high life soon, drinking champagne with every meal and lining the seams of my blue jeans with diamonds.

health class

today a patient told me he had gout. for some reason, not knowing what gout exactly is, i associated it with the clap. there are, i now know, marked differences.

• gout is a rheumatic disease. the clap is gonorrhea. gonorrhea is not a rheumatic disease.



• gout affects the joints- mostly in the feet- while the clap affects a man's wiener. you do not get the clap in your feet or gout in your wiener.



• you get the clap from having sex, while, from what i understand, even virgins can get gout.



• the clap causes tender testicles. gout causes tender joints. the testicles are not considered joints. so, while you have the gout, your testicles may be fine.



• if you have gout, they say you should avoid red meat, shellfish, and beans. those with the clap can still enjoy the red meat, shellfish, and bean buffet down at the sizzler, yet should probably avoid intercourse with me or any of my friends. those with gout can still have intercourse with me or any of my friends... but, come to think of it, probably not.

the clap and gout do have one thing in common, dear students:

• gout symptoms may be triggered by too much alcohol. the clap symptoms may be triggered by too much alcohol as well... when the alcohol leads to a one night stand with kiki the bar whore.

join me for our next session when we discuss the differences between a gun shot wound and the flu.

it really is a good deal

i was looking through amazon and saw that they now sell engagement rings. amazon. who would buy their loved one an engagement ring through amazon, what with their great prices and express shipping and the fact that you can also buy a copy of kate chopin's "the awakening" to go along with it?

oh, man. so i went ahead and picked one out for my wish list, skipping right over the inexpensive and moderately priced ones because i know that i'm worth it. oh, god, i'm so hysterical.

band name

i decided that if i start a band- which is very likely considering my incredible, and many, musical talents coupled with the fact that i have the determination of a bulldog- i'm going to call it "klondike 5." this, of course, is a reference to the fake phone numbers people give in books and movie. also, there will be 5 members in my band.

me
alex gonzalez of the chicago cubs
ed norton
john cusack
michael vartan

i don't care if any of the other members can't sing or play any instruments. i think we'll be popular nonetheless; also, it'll be oh-so-much fun for me. "alex, you'd better let me feel that muscle at least one more time. and do another dimple check. oh! there they are!!"

tee hee. watch for "klondike 5" during our nationwide tour, where we'll be certain to assure you that no other city rocks like [your city].


p.s. i'm also now blogging with the dudes from messiahforhire. i got a personal invitation via email and everything. it was very exciting to know that my blogging voice is being heard out there, and that people like my writing. now if only some big fancy new york publishing agency would send me an equally nice email, eager to publish that yet-to-be-finished novel i've... yet to finish.

well, what if there is no tomorrow? there wasn't one today.

today is groundhog's day, where critters such as punxsutawney phil, pothole pete, dixie dan, and buckeye chuck pop out and hope not to see their shadow. see, here's how it works for me. if a long winter is predicted, then this whole thing is balderdash. if spring is on its way, then, by god, this is tradition. it's science. this is how it works.

you've got to believe in whatever's convenient.

i woke up this morning knowing it was groundhog's day. groundhog's day. and i thought to myself, "i wonder if the penguin will see it's shadow." then i paused, the gears in my head slowly cranking. after a drawn out moment, i realized that groundhog's day has nothing to do with penguins. i was obviously thinking of easter, which is all about penguins hopping down the bunny trail and shit.

super bowl XXXVIII

the roman numerals are a bit much, don't you think? i dealt with them for "rocky I" through "rocky V," and that was fine, but with the super bowls, i think they're getting a little out of control.

i found this quote in an article concerning super bowls and roman numerals:

Legend has it that former NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle, now deceased, wanted Roman numerals used to give the big game more pizzazz.

i disagree about the roman numerals providing "more pizzazz." if the nfl commissioner wanted to make "the big game" more exciting, he would have cut out all of the football stuff and instead just had the following elements at some huge festival park in, say, milwaukee:

1. balloon animals
2. naked people flipping through fiery hoops
3. stuffed mushroom cap appetizers served by the entire cast of "fame"
4. the beatles, all of the beatles, together for one last concert during half time. i'm not sure if this would involve time travel or resurrection from the dead, but it would be cool either way. right?
5. a super-splash-happy-extra-long-and-windy water slide
6. the comedic stylings of brian regan
7. motorcycles
8. fireworks
9. a petting zoo of mythical creatures
10. trampolines
11. face painting
12. cuss words

cuss words always rile me up. also, they're good for me.

In 1997, Superior, Wisconsin, judge Charles Schaefer denied unemployment benefits to a woman who quit her job at Kentucky Fried Chicken. The woman said she quit because of the amount of vile language in the workplace. Schaefer ruled, "Use of vulgar and obscene language can promote group solidarity."

see? swearing helps me make friends.