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Monday, October 31, 2005
What are you?
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Crystal Meth anyone?
Okay, so I haven't been angry in awhile and I've been bad to the Book of... site. But last night I made a list of 3 things that piss me off and I now finally have material! I won't post them all today because who knows when I will have inspiration again?
I might have to fill a few people in on the back story here. This is my blog post when the events actually happened but let me see if I can fill you in a little more. A man named Brian Nichols was to appear in court for tying up his girlfriend and holding her hostage and raping her at gunpoint for 3 days. On his court date, he took a gun from the bailiff and shot and killed his judge and 2 other policemen and went on a shooting spree in Atlanta, eventually killing 5 people. His last hostage was Ashley Smith, a girl with a bad past, and she talked him into turning himself in using a book titled, "The Purpose-Driven Life." She was later revered as a hero and wrote her own book which was released recently titled, "Unlikely Angel."
The book was released about a month ago now and in it she reveals something that she never told police: Brian Nichols, the crazy mass-murderer, asks her if she had any pot and she doesn't. She does, however, have crystal meth and gives it to him. Instead of invoking sock-puppet theatre for the following conversation, I am going to depart from the norm and use Gap-clothed mannequins:
Don't believe me? Read it here. What shade of moron is she to offer him drugs? Why not say, "I don't have any ganja," and stop talking! And I didn't show her book on Amazon so you could buy it, I put it on there so you can mock it.
I might have to fill a few people in on the back story here. This is my blog post when the events actually happened but let me see if I can fill you in a little more. A man named Brian Nichols was to appear in court for tying up his girlfriend and holding her hostage and raping her at gunpoint for 3 days. On his court date, he took a gun from the bailiff and shot and killed his judge and 2 other policemen and went on a shooting spree in Atlanta, eventually killing 5 people. His last hostage was Ashley Smith, a girl with a bad past, and she talked him into turning himself in using a book titled, "The Purpose-Driven Life." She was later revered as a hero and wrote her own book which was released recently titled, "Unlikely Angel."
The book was released about a month ago now and in it she reveals something that she never told police: Brian Nichols, the crazy mass-murderer, asks her if she had any pot and she doesn't. She does, however, have crystal meth and gives it to him. Instead of invoking sock-puppet theatre for the following conversation, I am going to depart from the norm and use Gap-clothed mannequins:
Brian: Do you have any marijuana?
Ashley: No, I'm fresh out. I do have crystal meth though. It's tasty. Do you want it? It's probably a good idea to give you uppers since you've killed 5 people today.
Brian: Yes, will you cook it for me?
Ashley: Sure thing, I love playing housewife. You know I watched my husband die from a knifing, that makes me gangsta too! Let's go cook it in the bathtub.
Brian: Ok, good idea. Man, I could really use some uppers after killing people.
Ashley: Man, you have a rippling chest! Very sexy and powerful!
Brian: Yes I do. Would you like some?
Ashley: No, I'm still high from earlier. Besides, you need all the uppers you can get!
Don't believe me? Read it here. What shade of moron is she to offer him drugs? Why not say, "I don't have any ganja," and stop talking! And I didn't show her book on Amazon so you could buy it, I put it on there so you can mock it.
Another beach story
While in Charleston my father, step-mother, and I decided to tour Boone Hall Plantation, which boasts itself as the only working plantation left in the country. The idea sounded cool, and it was the only plantation left in Charleston that we haven't seen before. We're all excited and we pull up to the front gate to find out that admission is pretty expensive, but we're on vacation so we pay it anyways. 
The plantation has it's own radio station that describes the lands as we drive though and make our way towards the house. This was the coolest part of the whole trip. Any "Gone with the Wind" fan will recognize the property as the inspiration for the property 12 Oaks. Had "Gone with the Wind" not been built and filmed entirely on stages, the 12 Oaks scenes would have been filmed here. This is one of their boasts. It sounds pretty neat, but is the fact that the grounds was the inspiration for the movie set isn't worth the cost of admission.
Then comes the house tour. It was advertised that the people in the house would be dressed in period garments, but I don't think Old Navy khakis and Nikes were worn between the late 1600s through the Civil War era. She began the house tour by saying the house was built in 1936. I stopped. What? 1936? "Hey Dad," I whispered,"The house you grew up in, when was it built?"
"1932."
"Think we can charge $15 a person to walk through it?"
The story gets even worse as the Nike clad "historic interpreter" continued talking. Apparently a Canadian diplomat bought the house in the 1930s, saw that a plantation house in indeed a farmhouse- why this is a shocker to some people, I don't understand- tore it down and built this house- his idea of what a plantation house should look like. So we paid $15 a head to see what a non-American's idea of what a plantation house should look like. Great. Additionally the tour guide only took us into 2 rooms of the house, which were decorated in the owner's furniture, not even disguised in period decor. The owner lives upstairs! I can see him sitting in a rocker, holding stacks of $10 bills and laughing while looking out the window, peering down on unsuspecting fools. "Muahahhaa!" He says.
This is just a side note which really bothered me. When the tour guide was talking about the line of oak trees leading up to the house, she kept calling it "the alley of the oaks." That is not the definition of the word "alley." However, it is would some would refer to as an avenue. This wasn't just a slip-up she made once, she said it about 6 times, every time like someone's nails down a chalkboard to my English-sensitive ears.
Boone Hall Plantation is forever known to my parents as the 1936 House. As for me: well, I call it Boone's Farm. Now I would have paid $15 to tour place that provides such cheap wine.
The plantation has it's own radio station that describes the lands as we drive though and make our way towards the house. This was the coolest part of the whole trip. Any "Gone with the Wind" fan will recognize the property as the inspiration for the property 12 Oaks. Had "Gone with the Wind" not been built and filmed entirely on stages, the 12 Oaks scenes would have been filmed here. This is one of their boasts. It sounds pretty neat, but is the fact that the grounds was the inspiration for the movie set isn't worth the cost of admission.Then comes the house tour. It was advertised that the people in the house would be dressed in period garments, but I don't think Old Navy khakis and Nikes were worn between the late 1600s through the Civil War era. She began the house tour by saying the house was built in 1936. I stopped. What? 1936? "Hey Dad," I whispered,"The house you grew up in, when was it built?"
"1932."
"Think we can charge $15 a person to walk through it?"
The story gets even worse as the Nike clad "historic interpreter" continued talking. Apparently a Canadian diplomat bought the house in the 1930s, saw that a plantation house in indeed a farmhouse- why this is a shocker to some people, I don't understand- tore it down and built this house- his idea of what a plantation house should look like. So we paid $15 a head to see what a non-American's idea of what a plantation house should look like. Great. Additionally the tour guide only took us into 2 rooms of the house, which were decorated in the owner's furniture, not even disguised in period decor. The owner lives upstairs! I can see him sitting in a rocker, holding stacks of $10 bills and laughing while looking out the window, peering down on unsuspecting fools. "Muahahhaa!" He says.
This is just a side note which really bothered me. When the tour guide was talking about the line of oak trees leading up to the house, she kept calling it "the alley of the oaks." That is not the definition of the word "alley." However, it is would some would refer to as an avenue. This wasn't just a slip-up she made once, she said it about 6 times, every time like someone's nails down a chalkboard to my English-sensitive ears.
Boone Hall Plantation is forever known to my parents as the 1936 House. As for me: well, I call it Boone's Farm. Now I would have paid $15 to tour place that provides such cheap wine.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
My Space
Paige finally talked me into joining My Space- a phenomenon I still don't get but apparently you are only cool if you have one. I didn't spend much time on it but if you want to check it out, here it is.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
I want to marry my new running shoes
I just bought these:
Nike Free Trainers. I can't afford them. They were expensive. I justified it with the last time I bought running shoes was 5 years ago. If I keep these 5 years, then they won't end up costing that much.
When I put them on in the store- they were glorious. They are easily the most comfortable shoes I've ever put on. Remember those plastic flip flops that had the bumps on the sole of the the shoe? They were called athletic flip flops and I remember the bumps kind of hurt. These shoes have the same bumps to a lesser degree on them. They massage your feet with every step. The shoe itself feels like a sock and it's light and airy enough. They flex easily with your feet.
I want to have a relationship with these shoes- I want to marry them! For anyone who's looking for a new pair- just try them on and you'll see.
Nike Free Trainers. I can't afford them. They were expensive. I justified it with the last time I bought running shoes was 5 years ago. If I keep these 5 years, then they won't end up costing that much.
When I put them on in the store- they were glorious. They are easily the most comfortable shoes I've ever put on. Remember those plastic flip flops that had the bumps on the sole of the the shoe? They were called athletic flip flops and I remember the bumps kind of hurt. These shoes have the same bumps to a lesser degree on them. They massage your feet with every step. The shoe itself feels like a sock and it's light and airy enough. They flex easily with your feet.
I want to have a relationship with these shoes- I want to marry them! For anyone who's looking for a new pair- just try them on and you'll see.
My Weather Pixie is a slut
I just noticed that my Weather Pixie is wearing a tank top with her belly showing and low cut pants. She's supposed to dress according to the weather. The thermometer says its 54 degrees outside. I am currently wearing insulated track pants, a spaghetti-strapped shirt, and a zip-up sweater and I'm still freezing my ass off. Meanwhile my whore Weather Pixie is prancing around in a tank top. Current temp: 47 degrees. Skanky-ass whore! Put on a coat!
Monday, October 24, 2005
Nikita and the horse
You know what? I can't remember the TONS of stories I had from the beach. I remember this one, even though now it sounds kind of lame, but I'll tell it anyways so I won't be a TEASE anymore! Maybe I'll remember the others later.
Every afternoon I'd take a golf cart ride around the island with my dog Nikita. She would ride in the seat next to me and stick her head out the side to smell the things we were passing at 15 mph. My father's black lab, Abby, would also come along, but she would run alongside of the cart. Huskies are well known for not behaving off the leash, but about a 1/2 from the house, I would let her off the cart and she and Abby would run together as fast as they could back to the house. By the time she reached the house, she was so tired that she would go right in and drink some water and take a nap.
Except for one afternoon. I let her off the leash and the 3 off us race back to the house- me on the golf cart of course. We go around the corner and the lady down the road is conducting horse lessons right on front of our house. I push the cart to go faster, thinking if Nikita is involved in the race, she won't become distracted with the horse. I pass the lady and the horse and apologize, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you had the horses out." The lady ignored me. Nikita has never seen a horse before and she runs up to the tallest one and gets on her hind legs to sniff the horse's butt.
The horse, not liking his butt sniffed by a dog on two legs, moves away. Nikita follows. The horses pushes Nikita away with his hind leg- a warning, not a true kick, but I could see one happening not too far in the future if Nikita doesn't leave that horse alone. Meanwhile, I'm screaming for the dog and she's not listening. My step-mother comes out on the porch, calls for Nikita, and offers her a cookie if she'll come. Nikita is just standing there staring at the horse. The lady tries to shoo her away but she won't move. Then the lady kicks Nikita. Not the horse! The owner! I was too stunned to say anything. I can't believe a woman just kicked my dog! I can understand if the horse did it, but I just can't justify a human kicking a dog. By this time I got Nikita distracted and she came to the house for her cookie.
I told my parents what happened and my father said, "Well, there goes your chance to ride one of her horses!"
Every afternoon I'd take a golf cart ride around the island with my dog Nikita. She would ride in the seat next to me and stick her head out the side to smell the things we were passing at 15 mph. My father's black lab, Abby, would also come along, but she would run alongside of the cart. Huskies are well known for not behaving off the leash, but about a 1/2 from the house, I would let her off the cart and she and Abby would run together as fast as they could back to the house. By the time she reached the house, she was so tired that she would go right in and drink some water and take a nap.
Except for one afternoon. I let her off the leash and the 3 off us race back to the house- me on the golf cart of course. We go around the corner and the lady down the road is conducting horse lessons right on front of our house. I push the cart to go faster, thinking if Nikita is involved in the race, she won't become distracted with the horse. I pass the lady and the horse and apologize, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you had the horses out." The lady ignored me. Nikita has never seen a horse before and she runs up to the tallest one and gets on her hind legs to sniff the horse's butt.
The horse, not liking his butt sniffed by a dog on two legs, moves away. Nikita follows. The horses pushes Nikita away with his hind leg- a warning, not a true kick, but I could see one happening not too far in the future if Nikita doesn't leave that horse alone. Meanwhile, I'm screaming for the dog and she's not listening. My step-mother comes out on the porch, calls for Nikita, and offers her a cookie if she'll come. Nikita is just standing there staring at the horse. The lady tries to shoo her away but she won't move. Then the lady kicks Nikita. Not the horse! The owner! I was too stunned to say anything. I can't believe a woman just kicked my dog! I can understand if the horse did it, but I just can't justify a human kicking a dog. By this time I got Nikita distracted and she came to the house for her cookie. I told my parents what happened and my father said, "Well, there goes your chance to ride one of her horses!"
Friday, October 14, 2005
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Alice in Gangland
I was driving by the local elementary school yesterday and the sign out front said that this week is gang awareness week. Just to be clear, Grayson, GA is the middle of nowhere. The police station is the size of a Waffle House and has 4 police cars. The closest grocery store is still a 10-minute drive. If you drive 15 minutes, you'll reach the closest bar. It's called "Rudy's" and it's a biker bar. I seriously doubt there are any gangs even remotely close to here.
When I was in high school in rich Cobb County we had a gang. It was called the "Marietta Militia" and all the good ole' boys would wear camouflage to school and park their Jeeps in a circle in the school parking lot after class and hang out before they go mudding. Well, they called themselves a gang, but I always thought it was more of a club. I think one of them got into a fist fight in a grocery store parking lot once- that was about as controversial as they got.
I wonder if that's the gang awareness that they're teaching the kiddies this week.
When I was in high school in rich Cobb County we had a gang. It was called the "Marietta Militia" and all the good ole' boys would wear camouflage to school and park their Jeeps in a circle in the school parking lot after class and hang out before they go mudding. Well, they called themselves a gang, but I always thought it was more of a club. I think one of them got into a fist fight in a grocery store parking lot once- that was about as controversial as they got.I wonder if that's the gang awareness that they're teaching the kiddies this week.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Another Night, Another Dream
I didn't have a nightmare last night, I did, however, dream about Paige. In my dream, I got into a horrible fight with my mother and I was packing to move out of her house. I pull my suitcases out of my closet and when I unzip the biggest one, Paige pops out of the suitcase. She knew I needed help so she mailed herself to me!
I allow her out of the suitcase and to ride in the car as a normal passenger. We were on our way to Athens and my "roommate" was driving the car, even though I have no idea who she is. I tell Paige about Athens and how great the city is. I make plans for us to go downtown drinking that night so she can revel in Athens' famous night life.
Since I have never actually met Paige (yet) she kept morphing into different appearances. At first she was how she appears in her photo, then she became really tall with really long platinum blonde hair- locks that could bring any man to his knees- and then she was volumtious. Her accent changed to an Eastern European accent, and then to a poor-man's Eastern European accent (which I'm not sure exists, but it was really awful.)
This is what I take away from the dream- I now know that I can keep Paige in a box in my closet.
I allow her out of the suitcase and to ride in the car as a normal passenger. We were on our way to Athens and my "roommate" was driving the car, even though I have no idea who she is. I tell Paige about Athens and how great the city is. I make plans for us to go downtown drinking that night so she can revel in Athens' famous night life.
Since I have never actually met Paige (yet) she kept morphing into different appearances. At first she was how she appears in her photo, then she became really tall with really long platinum blonde hair- locks that could bring any man to his knees- and then she was volumtious. Her accent changed to an Eastern European accent, and then to a poor-man's Eastern European accent (which I'm not sure exists, but it was really awful.)
This is what I take away from the dream- I now know that I can keep Paige in a box in my closet.
Monday, October 10, 2005
The Horrors of Mr. Sandman
I used to have night terrors a few years ago. I think they can be accounted for I was drinking a lot and not sleeping very much, so when I did get into REM, the dreams would just rush in and overload. That's what I always contributed them to. When I cut down on the booze, slept a little more regularly, and my life was a little more stable they stopped.
I didn't have them last night, however, I did have nightmares all night. When I woke up my fingernails were dug into the headboard. There are visible scratch marks in the wood and chips of finish underneath my nails. That's never happened before. I also feel really guilty because it's a really nice bedroom set that is my father's- all of my furniture is in storage. It's not even mine.
I'm a little weirded out by this.
I didn't have them last night, however, I did have nightmares all night. When I woke up my fingernails were dug into the headboard. There are visible scratch marks in the wood and chips of finish underneath my nails. That's never happened before. I also feel really guilty because it's a really nice bedroom set that is my father's- all of my furniture is in storage. It's not even mine.
I'm a little weirded out by this.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Lazy R People 2
It's mornings like these that I think the smartest thing my father ever did was train his dogs to go get the morning paper. It's raining and I don't have to walk a mile down their long ass driveway to get it. For some reason they take great pride in their morning duty which is great because it feeds my laziness.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Lunchtime Conversation While Watching the Weather Channel
Jamie: Look, that tropical storm is heading towards our beach house. See?
The arrow is pointing right at it!
Andrea: You're right, the arrow is pointing right at
it!
Jamie: If you give me gas money, I'll drive up there and secure the
house.
Drake: Oh no! The Braves!
Jamie: The Braves? What about them?
Drake: They're playing tomorrow.
Jamie: There's a tropical storm heading for our beach house and
you're worried about a baseball game? Listen, there's already a wave
advisory for the beach!
Drake: It's a playoff game.
Jamie: Well that makes it okay then!
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Update
For all of you who didn't know- Paige is moving full-time to our Book of Jenn and Jamie site. I haven't been pissed off in awhile, so I fear I've been neglecting it recently. Now, I better get off my ass and update that template for her. Thanks Paige!
Monday, October 03, 2005
Title of the blog
This question pops up about once every 6 months. "Mokey" is a character from "Fraggle Rock," a favorite show of mine growing up. "The Incredible Shrinking Mokey" is a title from an episode that I blatantly stole. The runner-up was "You Can't Do That Without a Hat," another episode title. About once a month I wish I chose the latter.
I always believed that I am utterly crappy when it comes to titles. Poems, short stories, essays, blogs, and blog titles: I think I suck at naming them all.
The #1 search term that brings people to my site: "mokey sex." I wonder if these people repeatedly misspell 'monkey,' or there is some perversion to "Fraggle Rock" that I am not yet aware of.
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