People of Interest; A Handy Checklist, Volume II

13 Apr 2011 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends Tags:

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. 

 

 

 

 

 

People I Luff, Family Style; Or, A Handy Checklist

11 Apr 2011 7 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Family Tags: ,

Okay, I can see where this here blog might get confusing in a short while.  I have a lot of people in my life, and as you can already tell,  these people will feature regularly here.  I’m just so popular . . . . It’s a tough job, but someone must do it.  I’m also very modest.  My everyday life is good fodder for run-of-the-mill discussions as it is.   But I’m also smart enough to surround myself with funny, smart, snarky people and therefore, my life is even more exciting.  It doesn’t always work so well for me (read: pencil lead in knuckle) but for the most part I am entertained.

  

Extraordinary lives require extraordinary people.  Makes sense, no?  I can view anything as extraordinary, I suppose, with the right attitude and lots of creativity.  For example, I was in downtown Nashville last night for a band competition and I walked by one of the karaoke bars.  I heard a woman in there murdering a Joan Jett song.  It was awful. Truly terrible.  But she had on a tiny skirt and a really nice spray tan and lots of hair dye so every man in there was completely enthralled.  It was extraordinary but maybe not in the positive, motivational way I am trying to embrace. 

 

But back to the task at hand.  I felt it was time to provide a handy list to guide you through the people in my life.  This volume is dedicated to my family.  I have them to blame for most everything.  Any dysfunction or weirdness I got was inherited directly from them.  I take no responsibility.  Plus, I’m the boring one.  I mean, yes I’ve got some personality, but I gots nothing on these people.  Shall we go down the list?

 

Madre:  Well, she’s Madre.  I couldn’t luff anyone more.  I’ve never seen anyone her age (or younger, for that matter) who can sling herself around on a horse like Madre can.  Once, when we were teenagers, Martie was upset about something and said to Madre, “You always liked Jimmie better!” To which Madre replied, “Of course I do.  I’ve known her longer.”   

 

Daddy-O:  Again, Daddy-O.  Not a lot of explanation required.  Awesome and super talented.  Wish I would have gotten just a smidge of that.  Sigh.  He laughs a lot which makes me happy.  After reading my first two posts here, he sent me an email that said, “You need a drink.”

 

Martie:  My younger sister, Martie, now she’s extraordinary.  She’ll be on here a lot so you should know about her.  The girl can sang.  She’s funny.  And she’s the pretty one.  My high school crush talked to me once, in Geometry class, and I was so excited! He came over to my desk and said “hey” and I nearly passed out from the giddiness.  I was already gearing up for a huge note-writing session to all of my girlfriends about this conversation in which the Cute One talked to me.  But right after he said “hey”, he said, “So is your sister dating anyone?  Cause I think she’s cute.”  So much for that fantasy.   Looking back, though, I realize that I was fortunate to not connect with him in any romantic way back in the day.  He still looks exactly like he did in high school.  I’ll let you infer what you will about that.  Anyway . . . one of my favorite things about Martie is that she signs her emails to me in this fashion:

 

Love you so very smooches,

Martie

 

Isn’t that cute?

 

The Squirt:  My youngest sister is The Squirt.  She’s the cute one.  She does all kinds of neat stuff like speak Spanish fluently, builds houses, and travels on a budget.  I’m not sure how often she’ll make an appearance but I luff her. 

 

Pooh:  Pooh is my older niece. She’s amazing.  She has these gorgeous blue eyes and all of this dark thick hair.  She’s wicked smart and has a super trendy fashion sense.  I can’t wait to see what kind of person she grows up to be.  A lot like me, I imagine.  And everyone knows that I’m your favorite so I’ve got high expectations of her.

 

Tigger:  Tigger is my younger niece.  She’s also amazing. And slightly bossy.  It’s cute.  Following is a conversation I had with her a while back, about the state of my hair.  It was curly and all over the place because I was too lazy to do anything else with it. 

 

Jimmie:                 Hi Tigger!

 

Tigger:                  <Eyeing me with horror> “What happened to your hay-ar?”

 

Jimmie:                 It’s curly is all.

 

Tigger:                  <not buying it, nostrils flared slightly> “It’s wi-yuld.”

 

Jimmie:                 Yeah . . .

 

Tigger:                  <sincerely> “What if someone laffs at you?”

  

Coach:  Coach is the husband of Martie, father of Pooh and Tigger and brother-in-law of Jimmie.  Poor guy. That’s a lot of chicks.  Plus, he has our Madre and his own Madre.  I’m not sure why he hasn’t croaked off already from the estrogen overload.  One day he will have an absolute freak out and run screaming to the nearest gymnasium and throw himself amongst the teenage boys playing basketball and beg for some drugs, or testosterone.  As it is now, when we have a family get-together and other men will be present, he’s no more put the car in park before he’s sprinting to the man section of the house, looking for beers and guns and camouflage.  I babysit for Martie and Coach fairly regularly and he always makes sure I have a key and code for the house.  His latest note with code read:

 

Oh Jimmie!  You came and you gave without taking . . . Now press the code or the police will take you . . . . 

 

Poppa:  Husband of Madre.  All around general good guy.  Martie, who works in a salon and does my hair for free (score!), dyed my hair red once.  I had begged for it for a long time. I went to Madre’s casa to show it off (and visit) and Poppa took one look, grunted, and said: “Not your best look, is it?”  Well. 

 

JiJi:  Wife of Daddy-O.  One year for Christmas I asked if she would organize my cabinets for me as a gift. Sure enough, right after Christmas she showed up with some roundy shelves and some common sense and got me squared away.  What a woman!

 

Boo and Bear:  Brothers, with assorted wives and children. Gorgeous families and good genes and talent out the wazoo.  I’d hate them for all of that but I have big luff for them, so I suppose hate is out of the question.  We don’t connect all that often but it sure is nice when we do.  Unfortunately I have no funny stories to share about them, mostly because all the good ones happened in elementary school and we would all be mortified to revisit that particular era what with all the bad hair and excessive eyeliner and tobacco products and high top tennis shoes.  Yikes. Moving right along . . .

 

And finally, me again.

 

Jimmie:  When I checked the mail Saturday morning the lone piece of stuff in there was addressed specifically to me, not to “Resident” and said:

 

The Ultimate Outdoorsman Action Pack!

Enter to win your choice of a FREE Ruger Rifle or a PSE Deer Hunter Bow!

 

And the back said:

 

The 100th Anniversary of the 1911, Designed by John Browning. Life’s too short to shoot an ugly gun!

 

What the hell?!  Now this weekend alone, I have waxed poetic about girlie drinks and pedicures that include painting sparkles on my toes and pigtails, not ponytails, and did make up for the girls in our corporate band.  Is there something about me that says “Yes, I want to kill foodstuffs with a gun and/or bow and arrow and serve dead animal carcass that I shot all by myself”?  I don’t get it.  Boo, I blame you.

 

This, people, is the story of my life. 

 

I have many more people to introduce you to.  I felt like this list was enough for one day.  It’s mind boggling, isn’t it?  Personally, I’m thrilled to have all of these people at my back.  I’m a lucky woman!

 

Just for fun, I’ve added a picture.  I took this while on last week’s chocolate run.  Doesn’t that just make you smile?

 

Stuff I Learned: Beach 2011

07 Apr 2011 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in I'm Going Somewhere Tags: ,

So, I’m back from my beach trip.  It was awesome.  The end. 

 

Snort.  If you know me at all, you know that is nowhere near the end. 

 

Freddie and I had a fabulous time while on our trip to the wild blue yonder. The entire weekend was perfect.  We were lazy and girlie and covered in sunscreen which meant that we did not have to spend any days in misery lamenting over our lobster skin.  We taste-tested some adult beverages and tried new restaurants and rode bikes and read books.  We also planned a lovely evening of chick flicks, wine and pizza.  See? Perfect!

 

I think you should take something away from every experience you have in life, and I have given this concept a lot of thought since we returned.  I don’t want to bore you with the details of the trip, especially because they lose something when you weren’t there to share it. Also, I don’t want to feel like I am showing off because Freddie and I had such a nice time.  I did learn some fun things, though, and you guys are lucky in that I want to share them with you.  I call it “Imparting Wisdom”.  Without further ado, following please find my list of Stuff I Learned: Beach 2011.

 

  • Sticking my feet in the sand and the ocean grounds me.  When that happens, I am one of the happiest most peaceful persons on the planet.  I have always known this but it bears repeating.  So that you can also remain happy and peaceful, I will not include any photos of me in my swimsuit.  You can, however, see me naked in several locations on this trip.

 

  

  • When you want drink recipes, ask Felix.  We did that on our first day down there thinking that we would mix our own and gaily traipse down to the beach with them every day. Holy Moly, did we hit the mother lode.  That man is a genius when it comes to liquor. Somehow we never made our own drinks, though. 

 

  • Responding to your co-worker’s question “Which person is wilder, you or Freddie?” with “We are both perfect angels.” will make him shoot Coke out his nose.

 

  •  There is a reason why the fruity drink in the Irish pub was named “Three Sheets”.

 

  • When you take a picture of your “Three Sheets” cocktail and text it to all your friends at 1:00 on a Friday afternoon while they are still working and are more than ready to go home and start their own fabulous weekends, don’t be surprised when you receive this text in reply:

 

 

 

  • Saying the two words “my husband” will make the stranger whose mental state can generously be described as “burnt” run like a scalded dog. This would have been handy to know before his two-day assault on our lying-in-the-sun-relax time.  Honestly, the guy was friendly enough but once a conversation has run its course, the next logical course of action is to go away.  Somehow he never made that connection and spent quite a lot of time offering us his phone number, suggestions for restaurants and invites to local activities.   Lucky for us, we discovered his Kryptonite after two short days.  That would be Freddie’s husband.  Let’s call him Ian.  I think Ian would be strangely proud to know that he is someone’s Kryptonite. 

 

  • There is a trade off for good stuff that happens.  We had perfect weather in Florida.  Absolutely gorgeous.  We had hideous weather when we returned to Nashville.  Dreadful.  We flew in during another freaking monsoon and had to circle the airport a few times to avoid landing during the storm. Normally I’m great on planes and the turbulence does not bother me, but this time?  Oof.  I wanted to varmint. 

 

  • As much as I love vacations, I love coming home more.  Well, mostly.  But coming home to a cat who expresses his displeasure at your absence by peeing on the carpet will put a damper on your enthusiasm rather quickly.  Murphy.  Sigh. I wondered if he had some lingering resentment over Seamus winning the battle of the suitcase snuggling, so I’ve left it in the middle of my bedroom floor for them to nap on in turns. 

 

  • When you ask Louis the Security Guard if he noticed that you were gone and if he missed you, he will say, “Yep, I knew you were gone.  Want to know how I knew?  Because it was quiet.  I didn’t hear a flea.  That’s how I knew.”

 

  • Freddie and I can take a trip together for three concentrated days and still like each other when we return.  At least I still like her.  Strangely, I have not seen her much since we’ve been back.  Huhn. 

 

BONUS WISDOM: Randomly – this has nothing to do with this weekend but my mother called after reading my post about the crab apples to tell me that those apples are the perfect base for pepper jelly.  I had no idea . . .

 

Also, I have yet to discover that I left something behind.  Maybe I have learned my lesson?

 

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