A Post About Nothing – The Seinfeld Edition

20 Jun 2013 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Home Improvement, I'm Going Somewhere, I'm Such A Girl Tags:

When I began this blog, lo those many years ago (two), my Auntie Anne told me that eventually my friends would gently nudge me to write something had it been too long since my last post. She was right. Roxanne is pretty good about it, sending me notes that read: “I don’t mean to alarm you but I think a link is broken on your sight. Nothing has been posted for weeks!” Lynnette is also on top of things, saying, “Jimmie, seriously. What are you doing over there?” Katniss has been known to remind me and most recently, Dammit Todd has jumped into the fray.

Messages of that nature make me realize that I am a lazy creature sometimes. Or a thoughtless one. My reaction is either, “I know! But I was reading this really great book, see . . .” or one of complete surprise. “What do you mean? I have so much to say! How have I not written that down?” Both scenarios prompt me to go to Panera right away and scribble down some words.

Unfortunately, lately I have had no words. Nothing’s wrong, but no one has fallen down in front of me and no one of a questionable nature has asked me for a date. Actually, that isn’t true but lately I’m only interested in throwing myself under the bus, not earnest men wanting my number even though they are miles shorter than me and live 3 states away.

I asked Katniss if she could manage a strategically placed fall-down-face plant right in front of me. She screeched, “Do you not remember the time I fell face first out of the elevator?! With a full Coke in my hand?! That stain in the hallway? That was me! Do not ever ask me to fall down! I will do it, spectacularly!” And then I asked Dammit Todd to fall down, hahahahaha, no. Dammit Todd is the most athletic, agile, coordinated person I have ever met. So, no, he did not comply either.

Essentially what I am saying is my life is a bit dull now. I’m going to Ireland soon (23 days!) and everything seems to pale in comparison. I did buy a new vacuum cleaner. That was exciting. It was a birthday present from my sister and to myself, and yes, I know that last year I was all upset about Miguel buying me old people stuff and this year I went and did it to myself. But you should see how this thing works! My gosh, my old one must have died months ago because I could have stuffed a king size quilt with all the cat hair I vacuumed up. It was horrifying. Let me take a moment here to apologize to all my houseguests of late. I’m sorry you were drenched in fur. While I know that Murphy is a shedder, I had no idea that he left his entire pelt all over the house.

Also, I went to Florida with Freddie. That wasn’t dull but it did rain a whole lot. I managed to burn my backside, every area that I cannot possibly reach with the aloe vera gel, so not only did I cook my skin into bacon, I’m now peeling and I have thousands of new freckles.

Speaking of Freddie, I realize I have not updated you on my friends lately. I asked for prayers for some of them when Poppa was so sick and I now have happy news to report.

Quan is moving to Nashville. Hallelujah, it’s about time!

Freddie is a free woman, meaning Ian is no longer in the picture and hot men can apply here for dates with her.

Lynnette is a mommy now. This was the most unexpected but for at least a little while, Lynnette gets to mother the cutest little boy in the whole world.

And finally, Pee-tah (remember Pee-tah, of the I Almost Saw Him Naked story?) is going to be my roommate. Yes, I know I already have a roommate who buys me paper towels and garbage cans (I know! I got a new garbage can, too!) but, Pee-tah! I already vacuumed all the cat hair out of his room and tried to make it less girlie in there but quite frankly, that is a hopeless task. I am the girliest person I know.

Okay, that’s it, folks. Oh wait, I did have a birthday. I didn’t even bother typing up a list of everything you guys were supposed to get me. I’m 41. Who cares about 41? 41 is officially middle aged, and since I had all the big parties and shirtless men and cake last year, this one slid right on by without so much as a whimper. I think everyone was mightily relieved about that, even me.

I will leave you with one final bit of very exciting news. I’m getting a new roof! Isn’t that exciting?! Apparently some storm ripped through my neighborhood and shredded a bunch of roofs and mine was one of them. If a whole passel of roofers hadn’t repeatedly knocked on my door and offered to fix it once I signed on the dotted line and turned over a retainer (and no, I was not that naïve), I never would have known. I don’t know what I thought those shingles were doing in my yard, but roof damage? No way. So anyway, new roof!

I’m really 41, aren’t I? Crap.

Injury – Sniffle

01 Jun 2013 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, I Will Cut You, Pets Tags:

Y’all, I got injured last weekend.

I know what you are thinking.  I know you are remembering my last post in which I told you that Woney and Squash and Nurse Bananahammock and I were going to drink like fish, and you are thinking “serves her right, big lush”.  And I’ll be honest with you; this is exactly what happened in my kitchen Friday night:

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Then this is what happened in my kitchen Saturday night:

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And then this is what happened in my kitchen Sunday night:

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And yes, a good time was had by all.  Let the record show, though, that no bad decisions were made during any of these drinking incidents (unless you count my signing up and paying for a half marathon a bad decision.  I am still unsure.)  As I told you last time, I didn’t get to 40 by being a dumbass.

However! On Monday, when nothing happened in my kitchen at all, when none of us had a drop to drink other than water, when the sun was shining and when we were all calm and slightly subdued, I got hit by a car.  Not my car.  Me.  *I* got hit by a car.

Let me tell you the story.  See, Woney and I were dropping Squash off at the airport and as I was hugging her good-bye, I noticed that the area in which I parked my car was being encroached upon by a minivan with an old woman at the wheel.  I thought to myself, “She’s awfully close there,” but then continued my sayonaras  and arriva dercis with Squash.  I made to return to my car and noticed that the old lady was even further encroached in the space where my back bumper sat.  To avoid a tight squeeze between our cars, I walked around the front of my car to get in.  As I did so, she gunned her motor, racing up to speeds of a half a mile an hour and she hit me.  A person.  She hit a person.  With her minivan.

Ooh, I was Not Happy!  I smacked her minivan and said “badword, badword, badword, LADY!” And do you know what she did? She gave me a finger wave and drove off.  Like, “whoops, toodles, ta ta.”  I’m here to tell you that her version of a finger wave after that sort of accident and my version of a finger wave after that sort of accident are two different finger waves.

Y’all, I was injured.  I had not been drinking (again, not a dumbass), was totally in my own lane, was hugging a friend good-bye, and some nefarious wretched old person injured me.  Probably I’m going to keep the nature of the injuries to myself until I see what kind of sympathy I can get from all of you, but ow.

And then!  It gets worse! I have another story.

So Murphy, who is a bit of a slut, very much enjoyed the company of my nice new and old friends this weekend.  All attention, all the time and Murphy is happy.  Typically I’m alright with that as there’s only so much ear rubbing and fur scratching one person can give.  Its only when he settles down into comfy Murphy, all wadded up amongst the covers, that I enjoy him the most.  In those instances, when he’s snuggly and warm and purring, I’d rather have him all to myself.  That’s the best Murphy, see.  It upset me ever so slightly that Murphy decided to knead his biscuits on Woney’s blanket during all the girl movies we watched.  I got a little indignant when he snoozed away the hours on her knees, but again, he’s pretty free with his love and I guess that’s what you expect from that sort of cat.

Seamus, though, is the one who did me in – this is the really injurious part (you see what I did there?).  For three and one half years I have waited for that cat to come out of his shell.  I’ve been patient, giving him peas and treats and space.  I just knew that my persistence would eventually win him over.  His shyness was the whole reason I adopted those two varmints in the first place.  Well, his shyness and the hopes I could make him overcome it.  I’ve waited for the day he would tentatively and shyly creep over to my side of the bed, settle himself in the crook of my arm and snooze away.  And he did do that.  He did.  BUT WITH WONEY!

Now I love Woney, don’t get me wrong, but are you f-ing @#$$%@#@ kidding me? I said “badword, badword, badword, SEAMUS!” Want to know what he did?  He gave me a finger wave and went to sleep.

Feel sorry for me, won’t you?

Cinco de Drinko

22 May 2013 1 Comment

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Home Improvement, Pets Tags:

So this past Saturday night as I was snaking a drain, I began a deep process of reflection over the state of my life. I reflected that I have two very bad cats, one of which sheds an entire cat in fur every day. I reflected that this same cat takes every opportunity he can to eat grass outside and then sprint inside to barf on my carpet. I reflected that I was at home, alone on a Saturday night, using a screwdriver to lever the drain stopper out of the sink. I then reflected fondly on the last few months of Saturday nights when I spent quality time with new and old friends, boozing it up and making merry and not staying home on a Saturday night to use a screwdriver to lever the drain stopper out of the sink. Then the stopper came out and I reflected that I sure do get awfully mad at a cat that does unspeakable things to my house for someone whose own shedding process has stopped up a drain beyond all hope (almost).

Speaking of quality time with new and old friends, boozing it up and making merry, I realize I never finished my Trip to Tampa story. Remember that trip I took to meet strangers back in January? I flew down to Florida on someone else’s dime (because people are nice) and met up with Woney and two strangers, Nurse Bananahammock and Squash, all three of which are coming to visit me this weekend. I never told you about it because I’m a big fat liar. However, with the looming holiday visit and the potential for alcohol consumption, all involving my new and old friends, I decided to stop being a liar and start being a writer. (For the record, Nurse Bananahammock coined the title above and while I do understand that the Cinco de Mayo holiday has passed, I was enamored of it and had to use it.)

The trip to Tampa was truly one of the best trips of my life. I had no idea how much I would genuinely like these new girls. Squash and I snuggled on a bed and fantasized about what our last meal would be if we got the chance to choose it. Nurse Bananahammock told the story of how she met and married her husband which will most likely be my love story next February. We played putt-putt and all discovered that I’m just as adept at putt-putt as I am at bowling. We also drank. A lot.

Now I’m not a big drinker. I’m a rare drinker. I’m also a total lightweight and a complete flirt when I drink. It does not matter to me one whit if you are a normal-looking person in a bar or a stranger in an alley missing some crucial bits of enamel from your mouth, I’m going to meet you. I’m going to introduce myself and tell you that I’m your favorite and if you ask me for a kiss, I’m going to give you one. Nurse Bananahammock has a husband that I shall call Rick, and Rick makes these margaritas that make you want to hurt yourself, and I had about three of those Rickaritas and all my new acquaintances became my new best friends and I loved them all. The fact that Nurse Bananahammock has a husband, Rick, and Squash has a husband, Bob, did stop me from kissing their wives (I do respect boundaries after all), but boy did I have a nice time. A lot of fond memories there . . . .

Rickarita

Rickarita

Now let’s move on to the Mississippi trip. I didn’t tell you about that either, did I? I’m such a big, fat liar. Remember how Woney moved to Mississippi? Remember how she used to live in California? Remember how California is one of those sophisticated places with fancy bars and trendy eateries and general niceness? Well, turns out Mississippi has some nice things to offer as well, and Woney took me to one.

Daiquiri World!

Daiquiri World!

Y’all, this is a drive thru daiquiri place. Did you get that? DRIVE THRU. DAIQUIRI PLACE. You drive around the side of the building, up to the window, peruse the menu and holler, “I’ll have the Pink Panties, please,” and the woman at the window serves it right up. And then you can just DRIVE OFF with that daiquiri in your paw. Mind you, the driver of the car is technically not supposed to put the straw in the cup (this is how they get around the drinking and driving law, I guess), but I didn’t see a single person leave without that straw firmly ensconced in that cup.

I took a few swigs of my DRIVE THRU DAIQUIRI before leaving the place and during that time, Woney and I were called “Baby” by no fewer than fifteen people. The bouncer at the door, the guy playing pool (who also told us that we were the best looking things to ever grace the place – and I agreed with him), the server of the daiquiris, a guy in the parking lot, a girl in the parking lot. The list continues. By number fifteen I was feeling the effects of the DRIVE THRU DAIQUIRI and started to become enamored of those affectionate folks. I’d hear “Baby” and turn expectantly, Iips puckered, and flutter my eyelashes. Woney, who knows me well, sensed this turn of events and hightailed me out of there. It was a fantastic experience. I very much want to go back.

I’m guessing that Memorial Day weekend will bring loads of similar good stories about me and my nice friends. I’m also guessing that it will bring lots of alcohol consumption. We’ve got this spreadsheet going on which we list all the things we want to do while they are here. There will be snuggling on beds discussing our chosen last meals. There will be girlie movies out the wazoo. There will be a visit to the Opry. And finally, there will be many, many tasty beverages. I’m alright with that. Bring it on, nice new and old friends. I am so ready for you! (And I even have clean drains!)

(Just because I know my audience and know how much you luff me, please know that mostly I’ll be the DD so please, no worries and no lectures. I didn’t get to 40 by being a dumbass.)

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See You Later, Kasi Starr

01 Mar 2013 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, I'm Such A Girl Tags:

I promised you a story about Kasi Starr but I haven’t wanted to write it for a while.  See, she left.  She moved to another state.  We both knew she probably would, even from the beginning, but it didn’t make it fun for either of us. 

For weeks before leaving, Kasi Starr planned her move.  She packed boxes and gave away stuff and sorted and packed her car then unpacked her car then repacked her car.  She got boxes from the post office and mailed them to her new address.  We took some stuff to less fortunate people.  She bought calming spray for Miss Kitty, so that putting her in her crate would not be traumatic (didn’t work).  She cancelled her gym memberships and had parties with all her friends.  Etc.  However, not once through this process did either of us remember that the end of this process would bring her departure.  Until the day that she left, that is. 

(An aside here – Murphy got it.  He knew what was going on, as evidenced by the urinary soaking he gave everything near her stuff before she left.  The limerick I wrote?  About him peeing on stuff?  Yeah, that was the weekend after she left and I cleaned out from under her bed.)

So the day rolled around that she was to leave.  She had been so excited about her move, the new stuff she was going to do, and I was excited for her as well.  Excitement quickly waned when reality hit.  This was our conversation.

Kasi Starr:  Well, I’m all packed.  I’ll be gone by lunch so I’ll give you a hug now.

Jimmie:  Wait, what?

Kasi Starr:  <silence> <small tear>

Jimmie:  <silence> <small tear>

Kasi Starr:  So . . . . good-bye? 

Right in the middle of the good-bye, she choked.  And then:

Jimmie:  No. Not good-bye. <choke>  How about, see you later?

Kasi Starr:  Yes.  <choke>  See you later.

And then we hugged the tightest of hugs and it was fabulous and awful all at once.  Neither of us wanted to cry because we both knew that once the waterworks started they wouldn’t stop for a while.  I was going to work, the place where I don’t want to look like someone used my eyes as punching bags (as opposed to all the other places I go and DO want to look like someone used my eyes as punching bags), and she was going to be driving a long distance with one seriously pissed off cat.  Tears were not going to work. 

I learned a long time ago that women should never live with friends, if you were friends first.  Nothing breeds contempt any faster than two BFFs deciding that a roommate situation is a great idea.  However, if you meet a stranger and invite her into your home and THEN become friends, well, when they leave it is just awful, especially if that person is sweet and funny and nice and charming and always keeps the house supplied with paper towels.  I am so happy to have made a new connection, a new friend, and I am so happy that she is beginning her new journey.  This is the good stuff.  The awful stuff is that when the new connection, new friend, person, leaves, they leave a hole. 

I got a new roommate already.  She is also very sweet and nice and she understands that I never buy paper towels and so she came home one day with this.

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I love them.  They work great.  But it isn’t the same.  When I feel a little melancholy that Kasi Starr is gone, I take a paper towel out to the garage and look at her stuff that she left behind and sniffle.  This is what’s left. 

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She’s coming back to get it one day.  When she does, we will give each other the tightest of hugs that will be mostly fabulous but a little awful because it won’t be long before she leaves again. 

When she does, I’ll say, “See you later, Kasi Starr.”  And she’ll say the same to me.  Not good-bye.  See you later.   

 

Valentime’s Day, Or As I Affectionately Call It, Singles Awareness Day

25 Feb 2013 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, In Which I Throw Myself Under The Bus, Outings, This Will Probably Get Me In Trouble Tags:

Don’t you hate it when people call it that?  There is no M in Valentine.  Do you also hate it when people call it Singles Awareness Day? Tough, it’s my blog.

So I had a party for all my single friends on Singles Awareness Day.  We went to the bowling alley.  You should know that I am a terrible bowler.  Really awful.   I don’t know why I do this to myself.  You remember Thor?  He claims to be the worst bowler ever.  I say this with love – he’s pretty bad.  I have another friend who doesn’t see too well.  Her vision started to go when she was young yet she has adjusted beautifully.  She’s an okay bowler.  We had some new friends come to the party who tried their hardest to lay claim to the title “Crappiest Bowler Ever”, throwing gutter balls and missing pin after pin.  Y’all want to guess who got the lowest score in every game?  Want to know who was so spectacularly bad at the bowling that breaking a 40 was considered a fantastic accomplishment?  That is correct – yours truly.

One of the new friends whom I shall call Flash pulled me aside on the last two frames of the game to give me some coaching lessons.  “Jimmie,” Flash said, “how do you feel about me giving you some pointers so that maybe you can tie for last place instead of being dead last all by yourself . . . . again?” 

“Sure, why not.”  And so Flash coached me, enabling me to get a strike AND a spare and thus I tied for last place with a guy who fervently tried to convince us that he had never bowled before.  I am amazing.

Lest you think I am a total loser, I do have things at which I excel. 

For example, I am excellent at lecturing men on what constitutes a good Valentime’s Day gift.  Simply look at this post, which can be used for almost any gift-giving occasion in which women are to receive tokens of affection.  I used it with great success on a guy at work, whom I shall call Yao Ming (he is tall and I like standing next to him). 

“Yao Ming,” I said as I cornered him in the supply room, “what are you doing for your wife for Valentime’s Day?  You have planned ahead, correct?”

“Uh . . . .” said Yao Ming.  “I usually do pretty well on ValentiNe’s Day.  I’ll get balloons or flowers or something.”   

“Well, you better giddy on it, Yao Ming.  I do not want any of my friends in the dog house because of a lame Valentime’s Day gift.  I once knew a girl, my sister-in-law actually, whose boyfriend gave her a set of free weights and the advice that she could use lose a few pounds.  She was a rail already but either way, that boyfriend spent a lot of time recovering from that snafu and I do not want the same fate for you.  I like you too much for that, Yao Ming.” And then Yao Ming made some excuse about all the work he had to do and fled to the other side of the hall. 

I used this same argument successfully with the postman, the UPS man, and the Fed Ex guy.  I am very popular. 

Another example of things I do well:  I am excellent at playing with other people’s children in bowling alleys.   I know this because after coming back from a routine visit to the restroom I found a small child hanging out in our lane.  He was a tiny little black boy with the cutest curly Mohawk you’ve ever seen.  He was less than two and had the sweetest eyelashes.  His elbow was propped on one of our chairs and he watched our game intently, probably fascinated by the wildly spinning colorful balls that flew all over the lanes.  Ooh, I snatched him up immediately, cooing “Hi, muffin. What’s your name?”

He looked at me with giant eyes and then turned his attention back to the out-of-control game we were playing.  He leaned against me, completely content.  Oh, I could have held him all night.  After a few minutes, though, I could see the realization dawn on his family that they were missing a kid.  I held him up to show I had him, that he was safe and while they rushed over to rescue him from the wild woman who bowled as if she had a muscle deficiency, they were very kind in letting me get a hug from him before taking him safely to his own lane.  We bonded, though, because he waved good-bye to me as he left.  He was my Valentime. 

I also have other assorted skills like layering on glitter eyeliner in thick, even lines; backcombing my hair into a giant poof; matching my socks to every occasion and outfit (up to and including Christmas, Easter, Birthdays, Equestrian holidays, Dog holidays, and Valentime’s Day); asking Boss for gifts that he never sends; and making friends easily.  You know why I make friends easily?  It’s because I never throw people under the bus by telling stories on them when they are crappy bowlers (Thor) or when they get super excited about the nerdy Tupperware gift they received for Valentime’s Day (Yao Ming). 

This is a pretty impressive list, don’t you agree?  Y’all want to hang out with me this weekend?  We should go bowling.

The Top Five (no) Three (no) Four Reasons I like My Neighbor, Luke

11 Feb 2013 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Health, Weight Loss Tags:

The Top Five Reasons I Like My Neighbor, Luke

The Top Five Three Four Reasons I like My Neighbor, Luke

Why I Like Luke, a list by Jimmie (Gah!)

One – His name is Luke.  It’s my second favorite name of all time, right after Daniel.

Two – I never suspected him of stealing my garbage can.  (The neighbor on the other side of me, however . . . .)

Three – He answers every text I send him, even though most of them begin with the words “Hey, I broke something . . . . are you at home?”

Four – Every time I offer him food, he takes it.  You know how I love a man who eats.  Just last week we had the following text exchange:

Jimmie:  Hey, are you at home?

Luke, being a good neighbor, probably rolling his eyes and wondering what I broke this time:  I’m close.  What’s up?

Jimmie:  I have leftovers.  You want them?

Luke, being a man who loves to eat:  Of course I want them!  I never turn down food. 

And then before I could even send a reply text he was knocking on my door, dressed in a polar bear-sized coat, gloves and a hat.  I felt like I needed to explain that I’d begun a “lifestyle change” (not a diet) and that at midnight my cheat day would officially end and that I could not have the fantastic leftovers in my house or I would eat them and would he please take them off my hands.  He probably heard “blah, blah, blah, free man-food” and snatched it out of my hand, hollered “thanks!” and scampered back to his football game (or whatever) he was watching on his giant man TV. 

He is most helpful to me.  For this I am grateful. 

By the way, my “lifestyle change” is going really well.  I’ve lost four pounds, all of them in my butt.  Yay.

(This was supposed to be a list of five but then I struggled so it became a list of three but then I remembered one more so, a list of four. Writing at its finest, y’all.)

Random Acts Of Kindness, In Practice

21 Dec 2012 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in Family, Friends, Philanthropy Tags:

Thank you to everyone who shared a story with me.  I’ve copied the comments from yesterday here plus had a couple more to add.  Warm fuzzies abound. Read on.

A new mother (Mommy One) has taken advantage of technology innovations and purchased an array of baby monitors designed to ensure her baby breathes well through the night.  I can only imagine the kind of rest this allows for new parents.  I remember Martie and Coach getting up all night every night to check on their babies’ breathing for years.  I have to confess I still do it when I spend the night and Pooh and Tigger are ten and seven.  Anyway, Mommy One tested three different monitors before deciding on the one she wanted to use full time.  She is a member of a mommy message board and interacts with other new mothers there.  One such mother (Mommy Two) was expressing her sadness for a friend who lost her baby to SIDS and in doing so expressed her fear of the same fate for her baby.  She gets very little rest because of her worry and mentioned that the monitors were too expensive for her.  Mommy One sent Mommy Two one of her extras, the exact monitor she wanted as a Christmas gift today. 

FREDDIE’S RAK – I keep hearing that the most precious gift someone can give you is their time, and in this fast-paced world we live in, I firmly believe that’s true. I have a friend who has an amazing family, runs an office with little help, volunteers what little time she has to professional organizations and her church, and still takes the time to sit and have lunch with me and focus on me and my life. She is an amazing individual and I am truly blessed to have her in my life.

I also have this other amazing friend who works a job she has learned to enjoy, is writing a book that is going to be on the shelves of every woman in the US, is an amazing aunt and sister, and took time last Saturday to help me shop for my little sister’s birthday gifts. I am so blessed with people who are so giving of their time!

A woman has two children, ages ten and fifteen. Today she was struggling over how to provide Christmas gifts for her children.  She and her husband were counting on a bonus that did not materialize and all of their other money is earmarked for medical bills incurred this summer.  She was teary-eyed and mentioned it to a co-worker who in turn mentioned it to another who in turn visited every executive in the office and collected $350 in three minutes.  The mother was presented with the money in a closed office meeting and left the workplace, overwhelmed. 

STUDIO BUKOWSKI’S RAK – Probably one of the kindest things I have ever experienced happened after my dad passed away. A friend gave me the book (to help comfort me in my grief) that was given to him after his beloved wife passed away. He said it was time to pass it on to someone else who needed it and the note he included brought tears to my eyes.

Jimmie was discussing her Random Acts of Kindness with her boss today and mentioned her own good fortune with the plane ticket and the pedicure and the grocery money.  Her boss asked how the return flight was paid for and then offered the Southwest points to get her home. 

BOOTSIE’S RAK – Last Christmas our office had a tacky holiday sweater contest with a $50 gift card prize. One of my friends won the gift card. Later that afternoon that very same gift card was placed on my desk in an unsigned card. The only reason I know it was the same gift card is because I was on the party committee and had seen the gift card before it was awarded. My friend knew we were struggling and wouldn’t take an outright gift, so she “anonymously” gave me the gift card. She still doesn’t know that I know it was her and I won’t tell her because I think that “random acts of kindness” make everyone involved feel good.

Needless to say, Jimmie did a lot of nose-blowing today.

If you missed your chance and have something to send in, please still do so.  My cheeks hurt from the smiling but I’ll take that pain any day.  I love this. 

Also, who is proud to be a Titan now? 

Chris Johnson

Not Quite Dammit Todd

17 Dec 2012 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Outings Tags:

Last night was my church small group Christmas party.  In class yesterday morning we talked first about what each person should bring to the potluck later in the evening and then about the lesson.  One guy in particular, Jacob, was pretty excited about all the food we would be having and at every pause in the lesson he would sigh, “ham” or “mashed potatoes” or “green beans”.  Once during the Creation story when it was mentioned that Eve was formed from Adam’s rib he moaned “ribs”. 

This was a boy with an appetite. 

I don’t know if you know this about me but I like it when men eat.  I don’t want some guy to have a namby pamby appetite.  I want him to pile his plate up and really enjoy his food, and I want to watch him do it.  It’s why I like Dammit Todd so much.  I was fully prepared to stare in admiration at Jacob throughout the dinner as he tucked into it.  To my delight he piled his plate up good, getting some of everything.  He sat down and sniffed his food, waiting for everyone else to get seated.  He put his napkin in his lap after the prayer and grabbed his fork.  And halfway through his plate he said, “My eyes were bigger than my stomach.  I’m full,” and he pushed his plate away.  I was crestfallen.  What a disappointment.  Almost ruined the party for me.  But I got a pretty angel ornament and so the evening was saved. 

Speaking of Dammit Todd, I’d like to announce that we are now to refer to him as Dammit Todd, P.E.  The P.E. (Professional Engineer) is a test that engineers must pass in order to get specific raises and job titles and respect, etc.  Dammit Todd is now a member of the elite.  Congrats, man!

Also, speaking of Miguel (work with me here), I’d like to announce that we are now to refer to him as Miguel, E.I.T.  This is another such similar test and Miguel is now a member of that elite.  Congrats, man! 

I have such smart friends. 

And That Is Why Bubba And I Broke Up

11 Dec 2012 1 Comment

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Outings Tags: ,

It was 1990 and I was a senior in high school. I had kissed a few boys but had only had one boyfriend of note. His name was Chris and he was cute but we fell apart pretty quickly when I learned that he cut the tags out of my bras so that he could show his friends what size bra I wore. Remember I was breastacularly blessed in those days. I really felt like he liked me for me and not what I brought to the party, so to speak. I thought he was one of the few guys whose eyes made contact with mine and not my chest. Apparently I was mistaken, but honestly I wasn’t crushed. I was only 16 after all.

Then when I was 17 I took a field trip with my classmates. On the bus one of my good boy friends, Billy, and I talked about prom. I know this will be hard for you to believe, but I was super shy in high school. I didn’t talk much outside of my circle and especially not to boys. I would have DIED if I had to start a conversation with one so the boys who were close to me were pretty rare. Anyway, Billy and I talked about prom and decided we’d like to go together. See, he was really tall and I had a super cute car. I could wear heels without feeling like the dork that was taller than her date and he got the chance to drive my car, which he loved. I was pretty excited about this plan.

About two weeks after I made this date, another boy started showing interest in me. His name, and I am not even kidding, was Bubba. Bubba looked me in the eye and asked me out for real dates and before long, I was wearing his class ring. I’d spend an hour or so every Sunday night melting wax from a candle and molding it to fit in the back of that ring so that it would fit me. Then I’d stare at it for hours. I loved wearing that ring. And Bubba was nice too.

When prom time rolled around, Bubba started making some noise about what we would wear. I had already designed my dress – it was a black mullet dress with a white and black polka dot liner. I was so proud of it. Here’s the problem, though. Billy had already picked out his tux to match my dress. We still were planning to go to prom together. It never occurred to me to take Bubba until he mentioned it. I wanted to go with Billy. It was a difficult conversation but Bubba said he understood.

Billy and I had a fantastic time at the prom. And then we had a fantastic time at the after party. Bubba attended the party as well, and while I liked showing off the ring to all my friends, I never seemed to make the leap into actually showing off my boyfriend. Late into the night, Billy got . . . . sick to his stomach. Yes, sick to his stomach. I’m pretty sure it was some . . . . bad crab dip, yes of course, because I know there was no alcohol at that party (Hi, Daddy-O!). Since we took my car to the prom, I drove him home leaving Bubba behind with all my friends.

Not long after that Bubba and I parted ways. It might have been the next day. I cannot recall. What remains of our relationship is a prom picture in which I am wearing his ring and some graffiti under a bridge that reads “Bubba loves Jimmie”. I’d take a picture of it but there are probably snakes under that bridge and while I loved that ring, I’m just not that committed.

In case you hadn’t guessed, Billy grew up into Prom Date Will. I’m so sad that you can’t see Bubba’s ring in the picture. Still, when Prom Date Will and I get together again, we are totally going to recreate this photo with a modern day awkward pose. I figure we are good for it in 20 years which is exactly how often we see each other. I wonder if Bubba would let me borrow his ring.

This was my date.

This was my date.

And this was my car.

And this was my car.

Sigh. Go Titans . . . .

09 Dec 2012 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Outings Tags: ,

I’m so happy I picked the Titans for my team.  Yeah, that was a good call.

About a week after I made my big announcement here in which I was giddy with excitement over having a team to call my own, my friend Billie asked if I wanted to go to a Titans’ game.  She had tickets and parking passes and a bottle of wine for tailgating.  Being a rabid fan and all, I said yes. 

That was the weekend we played the Bears.  Did any of you see that game?  What an embarrassment that was.  It was just pure humiliation.  I’m pretty sure that every time the Bears trotted out their defense, we gave them the ball and they scored.  Our first two points of the game were awarded because of a mistake made BY THE OTHER TEAM.  I’ll say this, the Titans have pretty colors.  That’s something.  I picked something pretty, right?

Billie and I spent the entire game sitting four rows back from the end zone and in a sea of Bears fans.  There were four people to the right of us wearing Titan’s colors and literally ever other person around us wore orange and navy and had a beer in hand.  The whole stadium was like that.  Those are some dedicated fans right there. 

Over and over again, every time the Titans did something stupid, Billie and I would slump lower in our seats.  When we initially arrived we were proud of our sweatshirts and jerseys but by the 90th Bears’ touchdown, we were practically sitting on the concrete floor under our seats and couldn’t find enough material to cover anything we had on identifying us as a Titan.  And also after the 90th touchdown, Billie and I just started telling everyone around us, “It’s our Southern hospitality.  We let you win.  Plus, we brought the cheerleaders.  You’re welcome.”  And the Bears seemed truly grateful for that. 

So about the Bears’ fans . . . . will anyone shoot me if I say they were nice?  They really were. Some of the nicest people I’ve ever met sat next to us.  The men who were so complimentary of our cheerleaders were also complimentary of Billie and me.  They liked our hair and our voices and our niceness.  I asked a few of them where the Chicago hot guys were, you know, the ones they were supposed to bring in trade for our cheerleaders.  Their response:  “We are from Chicago.  We look like sausages.  We eat well.” Noted.

And proven.  Those same guys invited Billie and me to their after game celebration tailgate party.  A group of them rented an RV, loaded it up with food and booze and drove down here for the weekend and so they had parties every night.  One of the guys owns a chain of restaurants in Chicago and brought one of his giant logs of gyro meat and the thingamabob you cook it on.  They had sausages of every sort.  They had chips and pretzels and caramel corn and beer and liquor and some more beer and sausages.  Their one nod to good health was the tub of raw onions they had for the sandwiches and the lone tomato they picked up somewhere along the way. 

The group of them invented a sandwich for this road trip, called the Road Trip 2012 Man Sandwich Gyro Griller or some such nonsense.  I called it a Heart Attack on a Bun.  The sandwich started with a buttered grilled hoagie bun which was topped with at least one grilled sausage split in half lengthwise.  Into the sausage was layered an extraordinary amount of shaved gyro meat.  It was then topped with raw onion, a tomato, and more tzatziki sauce than can be good for you.  Good luck trying to eat that.  I did try it, minus the onion naturally, and after a few bites felt a little tight in my chest so I tossed the rest.  Oof.

Those guys were a lot of fun.  They were perfect gentlemen, too, which was a nice change.  Not every man who plies you with tasty beverages and food and then cleans up after you, actually washing dishes and taking out the trash, has noble intentions.  At least not in my experience.  We made no promises to keep in touch but after reading the news the following week, I sort of wish we had.  I think those guys would be inordinately proud to know that not only did the Chicago fans drink the stadium dry that day, they also wiped out nearly every bar downtown of beer.  Unheard of. 

Chicago Bears – beer drinkers, sausage cookers, football players.  What an experience.  By the way, I’m still a loyal fan of my team.  I just wish I’d get the chance to attend a game in which I don’t leave in utter humiliation.  Sigh. 

 

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