People of Interest; A Handy Checklist, Volume II

I don’t want anyone on this particular list to get all weird on me because I threw around the “L” word about them.  Some might feel awkward about it and shun me.  I don’t want that.  So let’s call this list People of Interest. You guys didn’t think I was done, did you?  I have WAY more people to share with you on this here blog. 


Family is only a portion of those who are assigned blame for my idiosyncrasies.  Someone today asked me if I was nervous about this part, putting my friends on here.  The thought never occurred to me.  They all know I’m doing this and for the most part, I ask permission before sharing too much.  I’m thrilled that they trust me enough to let me share them with the world.  Let’s see how they feel afterwards . . .


Phranke:  Ah, Phranke.  She’s been around nearly most of my life although we didn’t really become aware of each other until high school.  She was with me when I got giant boobs and had big hair.  She knows me.  She’s practically my sister.  I’m not entirely sure that I’m all fun and games for her, but she sticks around.  That’s what good friends are like. 


I went to visit her this weekend and as usual, I dug through all of her cabinets, drawers and closets. I’m not sure why I do this but she lets me.  I would let her do the same thing at my house. Anyway, I just had to share this picture with you. This is a shelf in her closet:



I hee-hawed over this for a good five minutes as she explained how each one is in a precise order, from newest to oldest.  They rotate. 


Below is an email exchange I had with her one day.  It’s one of the many reasons why I luff her. 


Jimmie:           I’m sad and it’s been here since Sunday.  I can’t seem to shake it and I’ve been crying every day since then.  My eyes look like crap, sort of like sand bags except wrinkly sandbags.  Is it the holidays?  Maybe so.  I dunno. 


Phranke:          Don’t you hate it – I can’t cry for 5 seconds without looking like someone beat the shit out of me all the next day.  Don’t forget to tell anyone who asks that it’s a new style of eye makeup that’s all the rage in California: faux-misery.  It was originally created for people who are all botoxed up and can’t feign emotional responses, but then it just caught on and everyone’s doing it.



Dammit Todd:  Dammit Todd is the reason I have the name Jimmie.  We were on a boat on a lazy Sunday a couple of summers ago and he had had a few beers.  (Honestly, we had all had a few beers.)  I was on a float, out in the water, minding my own business, when out of the blue he said, “I’m going to call you Jimmie.”  And it stuck.  I have no idea where that came from and neither does he.  I won’t embarrass him by telling everyone that sometimes we go shopping and I make him turn around so I can check out how his butt looks in his jeans.  (Mostly it is for him, so that he knows if they fit right but I would be a liar if I told you there was nothing in it for me.)  But I’m just not that kind of friend, to embarrass someone like that.  One random Saturday morning I received the following texts from him. 


4:02 am

Dammit Todd:             And I must say . . .Viva de casa de waffle


4:08 am

Dammit Todd:             You’re a pansy cuz w8 –


4:09 am

Dammit Todd:             You’re a pansy cuz u won’t pub9 –


4:10 am

Dammit Todd:             You’re a pansy cuz u won’t stay up and text us all maggi –


4:13 am

Dammit Todd:             You’re a pansy cuz u won’t stay up and text us all night . . .  Finally.  Sorry.  I’m drunk as hell. Better see u tomorrow for supper.


See why he is interesting?


Lynnette:  Lynnette is the instructor at the YMCA.  Remember her?  She’s the one who tries to maim us during class.  She has the best muscle definition in her arms and if I maimed myself like she does, I’d probably have those arms.  For now, I’ll just settle for being jealous.  She’s the one I credit with keeping me on track with my gym attendance.  When I’ve been lazy or absent for too long (maybe a day or two), Lynnette sends me the sweetest messages like, “Are you okay?  Just tired?  I was worried about you.” I genuinely luff this about her.  Happy was the day that we met and I will have her forever. 


Pee-tah:  Pee-tah belongs in my heart.  I can’t imagine life without him.  I’ve almost seen him naked and we are still friends!  That is true friendship, right there.


Freddie:  She has the best laugh.  We are kindred spirits.  Don’t believe me?  Go ask her how many kids she wants.  I dare you.  We both ascribe to the philosophy that children are fantastic little creatures, but birthing them from our bodies is an idea akin to flaying open our skin and pouring alcohol on it just for kicks. 


Kindle:  A favorite of mine.  We went to a concert over the weekend and there was a moment when the audience was asked join hands with the person beside us.  So we did with some reticence.  It lasted for about a minute and both of us were slightly awkward about it.  So after a bit, Kindle said, “You know I have love for you, but I’m not going to hold your hand anymore.”  Agreed.


Felix:  Drink mixer master.  Drummer.  Arteest.  I am hopeful that if I surround myself with all of these talented people, eventually some of that talent will rub off on me.  He wrote this poem for me and Freddie before we took off for the beach:


Manis and Pedis for

Your fingers and toes,

Lipstick, eyeliner and

Powdering your nose,

Hair coloring, highlights

And a little bit of bleach,

Suntan lotion, martinis,

And heading to the beach!


That’s what big girls are made of. 


Bootsie:  If you could meet her, you would understand in an instant why I call her Bootsie.  She is the epitome of a Bootsie – she’s crafty and trendy and adorable. And short-ish. She would not hurt a bug.


We used to work together.  A while back, she was leaving that job in an unfortunate way.  She’d been with the company for 6 years or so when they downsized, leaving her in the lurch.  She was packing up a few things and had this old hammer that apparently had some kind of value, at least to the co-worker who was admiring it.  She stood there looking around her space and then said, “Can I see that hammer for a second?”  She grabbed it out of his hand and in one smooth move, whacked it against her five year plaque, shattering glass and paper in a lovely spray of glitter and shards.  And then she calmly handed the hammer back and said, “Thanks.  I feel better.”  See why I luff her?


Woney:  She’s one of the biggest surprises of my life. How do you meet someone who lives clear across the country and become such fast friends despite not meeting each other face to face for months?  Yet, it happened. We travel.  Lots.  And we are perfect roommates.  Any excuse to pack up and go somewhere, and we are on it!


Lorne:  This girl gets full credit for naming this here blog.  Extraordinary?  Yes, I wants it.  Ordinary?  Yes, I gots it.  Only she put it together for me.  I regularly get little pick me ups from her in the following format:






She gets me.


Rickkster:  He’s awesome. The end. 


Wait, I forgot this guy:


Boss:  This guy gets some credit.  Our relationship can best be described as odd. I mean, he’s the one who lets me trash talk him on a regular basis and call him names.  And he gives as good as he gets.  Not many people can put that on a resume.  This is a phone conversation we had recently:


<Ring> <Ring>

Jimmie:          Good morning, this is Jimmie.

Boss:                Okay, go to www-

Jimmie:          I’m not getting fired for this am I?

Boss:                <Pause>  Are you done yet?

Jimmie:          I don’t trust you.

Boss:                Yes you do.

Jimmie:          <Sigh> Yeah, I do.


These are just a few of the people I have had the good fortune to run across. I will keep them for my very own for as long as I am able.  And now you get them too!  Lucky, lucky, lucky.  Rather, blessed.  I realize that I’ve got the good stuff. 






2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Madre
    Apr 13, 2011 @ 18:18:41

    Not bad writing (for a Low Functioning Re-Tard), no wonder your friends luff you too (but I LOVE you Too Much) !!!!


  2. martie
    Apr 15, 2011 @ 11:38:18

    Madre called you a retard! Ha!


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