Alright, alright... I know I said this was a four part story, but what can I say? Plans change.
Deal. The story will be concluded soon (possibly tomorrow). For now, this will have to do...
_________________________________________
Yes. I did this to myself... It was all a result of hubris. I underestimated the devious character of Monsieur Redneck and I paid the price.
Now it was time to pick up the pieces as best I could, so that I could live to fight the forces of darkness, entropy and standardized testing another day.
So I pulled myself together and did a mental once-over... My hands were bound behind me. The ropes chafed, but they weren't cutting off the circulation to my hands. My head pounded as though I were being hit in the head with a small, golden hammer. My feet were numb, the ropes there having been tied much tighter.
Still, the biggest problem facing me, was, quite literally, facing me.
Damn I hate spiders.
Yes, I'm a Buddhist.
Yes, I go out of my way not to kill them anymore.
That doesn't change the fact that their hairy, icky, bloated bodies and their evil eyes fill me with "a nameless dread," as the saying goes.
Task number one: Escape the spider.
After that, all other tasks would seem as enjoyable as that first cold, sweet spoonful of mint chocolate heaven.
Concentrating violently, I strove to ignore the pain in my head. Yes, I accepted that it was a pain I actually deserved in recompense for my stupidity of the previous day. Still, it was hard to ignore. I pushed past it and pictured the blood flowing back into my poor feet. After what seemed like forever, I started to feel that painful tickle that means circulation has been restored (Mother of Carlos, I love the power of my mind).
As soon as this occurred, I slowly moved my legs forward until they were touching the wall, and with a considerable amount of heavy breathing, pushed myself as far away from the wall and the dreadful arachnid as I was capable of maneuvering. Granted, it wasn't a perfect plan, but the farther I was away from that beast's baleful stare, the more clearly I would be able to think.
After what seemed like an eternity in a dentist's waiting room, but was in reality probably only 10 minutes or so, I felt that I was relatively safe. Yes, the horrible thing was still on the wall, but I could see him and I figured he wasn't close enough to leap off, land on my face and bite me on the eyeball... So I began to work loose the bonds on my wrists. I wasn't having much luck when I heard approaching footsteps on the ground outside the shed.
I stilled immediately, slumping as bonelessly as I could to the floor of my hovel. I hoped that when my captor came in I could successfully pretend to be asleep.
For the first time in what feels like a hell of a long stretch, luck was with me.
The door creaked open and one of Monsieur Redneck's two sheep-faced companions entered, carrying something. The something reeked like 3 day old sushi, and Sheep Boy #1 didn't smell a whole lot better. Even though my stomach was desperate for sustenance, it did a rolling leap through a spinning black hole at the smell now filling the cabin.
Sheep-Boy#1 took a quick step in my direction, leaned forward to examine me (presumably for signs of life), and then set down the bucket he carried with a thump. There was a second thump as something smaller hit the floor, probably a spoon.
Then, for about a minute, he just stood next to me. He didn't move. He didn't say anything.
I couldn't even hear him breathe. (Which was a miracle, because I'd identified him just the previous day as a definite mouth-breather).
Then, suddenly, as though he'd finally come to a decision about something and wasn't going to waste any more time, he got down on one knee and pulled on my shoulder to roll me over on to my face. I felt him pull my arms up, almost out of their sockets, and with a quick jerk (presumably from a knife) my hands were free falling to the floor.
Getting up to his feet with a small grunt, he walked out of the hut and closed the door. I heard a metallic sound that must have been a padlock snapping shut and then his receding footsteps. I strained to hear anything else, but all I could hear was the muffled sound of birds and the drone of a twin engine plane taking off from somewhere. This last was good news, as it meant that I was probably in Deering, relatively close to home.
I slowly stretched, checking to make sure that all parts were operating to regulation specifications, and then pushed myself up from the floor and onto my knees. I checked the bindings on my ankles and discovered that they were some kind of fancy looking plastic doohickey's that could be tricky to get out of... still, I could move my arms, so there was hope on the horizon...
It was then that I finally realized...
I was not alone in my little hovel.
There was a cat.
As I watched in surprise, it sauntered over to the bucket of fish slop, sniffed, sneezed, reached up to smooth a whisker that had gone astray, looked up at me, winked one eye shut, and turned pink. Yeah, I said it.
Actually, pink isn't really a good enough word to describe this cat's day-glo color. She was so brightly pink she seemed to burn with cold, neon fire.
She was so pink, they need to make up a new word for pink.
Squeezing both eyes shut, she made a face that is as close as any cat ever comes to a smile, and said, "I brought some help. Seymour sensed something was wrong. He's bringing some friends... There's more going on here than you think. See ya, Sensei."
So saying, she made a leap for the one window in the shed, shedding her cat form as she went and becoming a bright orange butterfly. She landed once on the sill, flapped her wings, and sailed off into the October day like a lively maple leaf.
Hope had arrived... and her name was Lizzard.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
And Now... The Pirate Queen Minty Quest Leads Headfirst into Danger
Okay, so here's the thing... you already know that it's been a rough couple of months... I've been adjusting to the new situation and it hasn't always been easy... Truthfully, it hasn't been easy even once.
Sadly the effect on my psyche has been to punch an SAU-sized hole into my formerly indefatiguable confidence and perkiness.
Naturally my charm, wit, beauty and modesty remain of course... but the confidence is lacking.
You are about to embark on the 3rd section of a 4 part story about how I got my cheerfully exuberant self back after learning a hard, painful lesson... and as all such stories go, the Nadir must occur before the Apotheosis. (If you don't know what those words mean, it's an indication that you never took my Myth and Symbols class...and now you never will. Oh well, sucks to be you).
My point is... just in case you are worried... I will prevail.
But it's going to get pretty dark first.
So be ready for it.
I'm just sayin'.
Now on to the story part of this thing...
Although my own curiosity and irritation with Monsieur Redneck had directed me to choose the road away from snack foods; as I followed the John Deere cap out into the parking lot of the convenience store, I found it simpler and more fulfilling to blame him.
It was all HIS fault I wasn't filling my gullet with minty-chocolate goodness.
He would pay for this outrage.
I filled my tank with 1.29 gallons of gas (Go me!), and ducked quickly into the driver's seat. Revving my engine, I scanned the lot quickly and saw my foe's truck (naturally) pulling out onto Rt-202/9.
I waited a beat for a car to pass and merged with traffic myself. Thanks to the ugly black smoke that belched from Monsieur Redneck's 4x4 beast of death, he was easy to follow. Also, he didn't really go far. After approximately 1.4 miles he pulled into the parking lot of a local redneck dive, The Gangsta Shack. I pulled in, parked at the opposite end of the lot, and waited to see what would happen next.
The answer is...
Not much.
*sigh*
He got out of his truck and pimp-rolled (NH redneck style) into the charming establishment.
Before I go further, let me just paint for you and illustration of this lovely venue.
The building itself was a marvel of architecture... The marvel being that it had remained standing as long as it had. Built in the late 70's, when the American Redneck Post-Modern Craftsman Style had been in high demand, it was entirely square in every way. Although there was a cinder block foundation, it was cracked and seemed to have grown tired of being in the same place, so it had begun to lean a bit to the left. The blocks themselves had been painted a bilious sea-green at some point in the 1980's by someone with a sense of humor.
The rest of the exterior was painted in a whimsical argyle pattern (oh yea, I said it). In places, the argyle appeared to be entirely plastered over by black trash bags, but on a second look it became apparent that the trash bags weren't simply plastered across the face of the building randomly; they were actually, a cheap and yet, not at all, disturbing substitute for windows.
I have often pondered, while passing this particular establishment, what the point was behind having window frames when one has no intention of ever filling said frames with glass, but I had never been able to answer the question to my satisfaction, since I was not at all interested in ever entering the establishment to assuage my curiosity.
The good news is, I learned the reason for trashbags instead of windows.
The bad news is, I learned that reason the hard way.
And here at last, we come to the action...
I walked through the doorway into the The Gangsta Shack about ten minutes after my prey. Scanning the room slowly I made my way to the bar and waited to be served. The barmaid, a depressed woman of about my age, was plunging dirty glasses into a tub of soapy water that smelled strongly of bleach and then quickly running the glasses under a stream of water. She managed to deal with each glass so quickly that I found watching her to be an almost Zen-like exercise; it wiped all other thought out of my mind. Thus, when she asked me, "What'll ya have?" It took me longer than usual to respond.
My brain stumbled and fell down a set of deep stairs into my stomach. By which I mean, I suddenly realized that I was in a bar, alone, tracking a red neck... and I had no money.
Not for the first time in my life, I thought, "What the hell is WRONG with me?"
It was then that a voice behind me spoke the words which will live on in infamy until the day I perish in a burst of flaming glory...
"I bet she'd like some tequila!"
Don't even pretend to be surprised... I know you were expecting this all along. Yup, it was my friend Monsieur Redneck. He had emerged from what was apparently a gentlemen's bathroom, where he had managed to find two other men who looked like they had been cloned from the same sheep. Now all three were standing just behind me, grinning. Their smiles did nothing at all to hide, or even disguise, the evil coldness in their eyes or the almost sulphurous stench of hell they carried with them.
Then again, perhaps the smell was just something they'd acquired from their sheep relations...
But that's all extraneous. The point is...
Before I entered their domain, I thought I was so smooth. I was so ready, thinking I could just slide back into my old, kick-ass, Pirate Queen persona.
I'd been so cocky.
The past three months of my life had completely disappeared momentarily, and I'd been convinced that my old confidence and fearlessness was back...
Instead, what I discovered was...
The confidence had been a momentary delusion... brought on by a sudden craving, lonliness, and a desire to have that old righteous anger back.
I wasn't tough.
I wasn't a Queen.
What was I?
Answer... very, very stupid.
I should have left the building right then, running if necessary...
But oh no, I didn't.
Two hours, 8 shots, and 6 games of pool later, I found myself flying head first out through one of the plastic covered windows and landing in the parking lot in a smelly, painful heap.
I learned a valuable lesson before passing out.
It's a bad idea to drink tequila, play pool, and bet on yourself.
It's an even worse idea, when you have absolutely NO money.
And it's a TERRIBLE idea to play pool under such circumstances with someone who has anger-management issues.
So here I am.
Tied up.
In a shed.
My head is pounding, my mouth tastes like something dead crawled into it while I was knocked out, I can't feel my feet, and there is an enormous spider on the wall 8 inches from my face.
So basically...
I'm in HELL.
What will I do next?
Well obviously,
I will prevail.
Sadly the effect on my psyche has been to punch an SAU-sized hole into my formerly indefatiguable confidence and perkiness.
Naturally my charm, wit, beauty and modesty remain of course... but the confidence is lacking.
You are about to embark on the 3rd section of a 4 part story about how I got my cheerfully exuberant self back after learning a hard, painful lesson... and as all such stories go, the Nadir must occur before the Apotheosis. (If you don't know what those words mean, it's an indication that you never took my Myth and Symbols class...and now you never will. Oh well, sucks to be you).
My point is... just in case you are worried... I will prevail.
But it's going to get pretty dark first.
So be ready for it.
I'm just sayin'.
Now on to the story part of this thing...
Although my own curiosity and irritation with Monsieur Redneck had directed me to choose the road away from snack foods; as I followed the John Deere cap out into the parking lot of the convenience store, I found it simpler and more fulfilling to blame him.
It was all HIS fault I wasn't filling my gullet with minty-chocolate goodness.
He would pay for this outrage.
I filled my tank with 1.29 gallons of gas (Go me!), and ducked quickly into the driver's seat. Revving my engine, I scanned the lot quickly and saw my foe's truck (naturally) pulling out onto Rt-202/9.
I waited a beat for a car to pass and merged with traffic myself. Thanks to the ugly black smoke that belched from Monsieur Redneck's 4x4 beast of death, he was easy to follow. Also, he didn't really go far. After approximately 1.4 miles he pulled into the parking lot of a local redneck dive, The Gangsta Shack. I pulled in, parked at the opposite end of the lot, and waited to see what would happen next.
The answer is...
Not much.
*sigh*
He got out of his truck and pimp-rolled (NH redneck style) into the charming establishment.
Before I go further, let me just paint for you and illustration of this lovely venue.
The building itself was a marvel of architecture... The marvel being that it had remained standing as long as it had. Built in the late 70's, when the American Redneck Post-Modern Craftsman Style had been in high demand, it was entirely square in every way. Although there was a cinder block foundation, it was cracked and seemed to have grown tired of being in the same place, so it had begun to lean a bit to the left. The blocks themselves had been painted a bilious sea-green at some point in the 1980's by someone with a sense of humor.
The rest of the exterior was painted in a whimsical argyle pattern (oh yea, I said it). In places, the argyle appeared to be entirely plastered over by black trash bags, but on a second look it became apparent that the trash bags weren't simply plastered across the face of the building randomly; they were actually, a cheap and yet, not at all, disturbing substitute for windows.
I have often pondered, while passing this particular establishment, what the point was behind having window frames when one has no intention of ever filling said frames with glass, but I had never been able to answer the question to my satisfaction, since I was not at all interested in ever entering the establishment to assuage my curiosity.
The good news is, I learned the reason for trashbags instead of windows.
The bad news is, I learned that reason the hard way.
And here at last, we come to the action...
I walked through the doorway into the The Gangsta Shack about ten minutes after my prey. Scanning the room slowly I made my way to the bar and waited to be served. The barmaid, a depressed woman of about my age, was plunging dirty glasses into a tub of soapy water that smelled strongly of bleach and then quickly running the glasses under a stream of water. She managed to deal with each glass so quickly that I found watching her to be an almost Zen-like exercise; it wiped all other thought out of my mind. Thus, when she asked me, "What'll ya have?" It took me longer than usual to respond.
My brain stumbled and fell down a set of deep stairs into my stomach. By which I mean, I suddenly realized that I was in a bar, alone, tracking a red neck... and I had no money.
Not for the first time in my life, I thought, "What the hell is WRONG with me?"
It was then that a voice behind me spoke the words which will live on in infamy until the day I perish in a burst of flaming glory...
"I bet she'd like some tequila!"
Don't even pretend to be surprised... I know you were expecting this all along. Yup, it was my friend Monsieur Redneck. He had emerged from what was apparently a gentlemen's bathroom, where he had managed to find two other men who looked like they had been cloned from the same sheep. Now all three were standing just behind me, grinning. Their smiles did nothing at all to hide, or even disguise, the evil coldness in their eyes or the almost sulphurous stench of hell they carried with them.
Then again, perhaps the smell was just something they'd acquired from their sheep relations...
But that's all extraneous. The point is...
Before I entered their domain, I thought I was so smooth. I was so ready, thinking I could just slide back into my old, kick-ass, Pirate Queen persona.
I'd been so cocky.
The past three months of my life had completely disappeared momentarily, and I'd been convinced that my old confidence and fearlessness was back...
Instead, what I discovered was...
The confidence had been a momentary delusion... brought on by a sudden craving, lonliness, and a desire to have that old righteous anger back.
I wasn't tough.
I wasn't a Queen.
What was I?
Answer... very, very stupid.
I should have left the building right then, running if necessary...
But oh no, I didn't.
Two hours, 8 shots, and 6 games of pool later, I found myself flying head first out through one of the plastic covered windows and landing in the parking lot in a smelly, painful heap.
I learned a valuable lesson before passing out.
It's a bad idea to drink tequila, play pool, and bet on yourself.
It's an even worse idea, when you have absolutely NO money.
And it's a TERRIBLE idea to play pool under such circumstances with someone who has anger-management issues.
So here I am.
Tied up.
In a shed.
My head is pounding, my mouth tastes like something dead crawled into it while I was knocked out, I can't feel my feet, and there is an enormous spider on the wall 8 inches from my face.
So basically...
I'm in HELL.
What will I do next?
Well obviously,
I will prevail.
Monday, October 13, 2008
I Got a Craving and All I Have to Show for it are These Darn Rug Burns
So there I was, innocently shopping for mint chocolate chip ice cream.
There was nothing on my mind except the embarrassment of paying for my purchase with four dollars in dimes and nickels.
Outside, it was quintessential fall day. Leaves were saying goodbye to the tree limbs where they'd lived for so long, and coating the ground like crunchy brown feathers. The wind was swirling their brightly colored corpses into irregular piles. The sun had a golden, tranquil quality that it only seems to get during the fall. If I tried really hard, I could smell pumpkin, cinnamon and wood smoke... though that may only have been my jacket, which usually hangs next to the mantelpiece...
Regardless, I was relatively calm and happy.
Well, I was... until HE came in.
You know the type. You've been out in the back woods, haven't you? If not, allow me to describe this phenomenal specimen of humanity. He was six feet of swaggering redneck. Chippewa boots, Carhartt jeans, a denim jacket, and a John Deere hat, crammed over a greasy buzz cut. The man was a walking cliche. He looked like he'd just stepped out of an LL Bean catalog from some other, less suave dimension, and he was not at all impressed by this world.
However, I don't want you to think that I judge solely by appearances.
The problem was not in the way he looked, but the way he carried himself. He had the affected slouch of a sullen teenager, though he was clearly my age or older. His feet clomped hard on the linoleum of the store, as though with every step he was showing it who was the biggest bad ass who'd ever sauntered across a floor. His upper lip seemed to be fixed in a permanent sneer, and when he paid for his gas, he called the cashier "Honey," though the woman was old enough to be his grandmother.
I found that his mere existence irritated the piss out of me. He reminded me of every bully I'd ever gone to school with, every skeezy construction worker who'd ever wolf whistled at a woman minding her own business; every snarky comment I'd ever heard from his type was as fresh in my mind as though it had just been uttered. I felt my stomach knot up with anxiety. Though uneaten and barely out of the freezer section, my ice cream seemed to be melting already from the heat of my sweaty grip on the carton.
I put the innocent cardboard box with the minty treat back in the cool, refreshing freezer, walked up to the counter, and asked to get 4 dollars in gas on pump three instead of snacking.
I had a premonition you see.
That Man was bound to do something... and I wanted to see it. Perhaps if I were lucky, I'd find an excuse for kicking his ass and making him cry like a little girl.
Ahh... hope springs eternal.
Well, fact is, he DID do something.
Unfortunately, the something he did was to turn the tables on me... Hence the rug burn or rather felt-burn.
I never should have followed him into that billiard place... My current psychic condition is not what it once was, and my Herculean self-confidence has been lacking of late.
Perhaps I should have eased back into my pirate persona by doing something less dangerous, such as punching a shark in the eye or eating four-day-old Chinese food out of a dumpster.
But no... but no.
By the way, these ropes are really starting to chafe. I wish I could rely on some superheroes to save me, but most of them are MIA. Guess I'll have to do this myself...
More updates to come.
There was nothing on my mind except the embarrassment of paying for my purchase with four dollars in dimes and nickels.
Outside, it was quintessential fall day. Leaves were saying goodbye to the tree limbs where they'd lived for so long, and coating the ground like crunchy brown feathers. The wind was swirling their brightly colored corpses into irregular piles. The sun had a golden, tranquil quality that it only seems to get during the fall. If I tried really hard, I could smell pumpkin, cinnamon and wood smoke... though that may only have been my jacket, which usually hangs next to the mantelpiece...
Regardless, I was relatively calm and happy.
Well, I was... until HE came in.
You know the type. You've been out in the back woods, haven't you? If not, allow me to describe this phenomenal specimen of humanity. He was six feet of swaggering redneck. Chippewa boots, Carhartt jeans, a denim jacket, and a John Deere hat, crammed over a greasy buzz cut. The man was a walking cliche. He looked like he'd just stepped out of an LL Bean catalog from some other, less suave dimension, and he was not at all impressed by this world.
However, I don't want you to think that I judge solely by appearances.
The problem was not in the way he looked, but the way he carried himself. He had the affected slouch of a sullen teenager, though he was clearly my age or older. His feet clomped hard on the linoleum of the store, as though with every step he was showing it who was the biggest bad ass who'd ever sauntered across a floor. His upper lip seemed to be fixed in a permanent sneer, and when he paid for his gas, he called the cashier "Honey," though the woman was old enough to be his grandmother.
I found that his mere existence irritated the piss out of me. He reminded me of every bully I'd ever gone to school with, every skeezy construction worker who'd ever wolf whistled at a woman minding her own business; every snarky comment I'd ever heard from his type was as fresh in my mind as though it had just been uttered. I felt my stomach knot up with anxiety. Though uneaten and barely out of the freezer section, my ice cream seemed to be melting already from the heat of my sweaty grip on the carton.
I put the innocent cardboard box with the minty treat back in the cool, refreshing freezer, walked up to the counter, and asked to get 4 dollars in gas on pump three instead of snacking.
I had a premonition you see.
That Man was bound to do something... and I wanted to see it. Perhaps if I were lucky, I'd find an excuse for kicking his ass and making him cry like a little girl.
Ahh... hope springs eternal.
Well, fact is, he DID do something.
Unfortunately, the something he did was to turn the tables on me... Hence the rug burn or rather felt-burn.
I never should have followed him into that billiard place... My current psychic condition is not what it once was, and my Herculean self-confidence has been lacking of late.
Perhaps I should have eased back into my pirate persona by doing something less dangerous, such as punching a shark in the eye or eating four-day-old Chinese food out of a dumpster.
But no... but no.
By the way, these ropes are really starting to chafe. I wish I could rely on some superheroes to save me, but most of them are MIA. Guess I'll have to do this myself...
More updates to come.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
The Mint Chocolate Chip Debacle
I'm hot and sticky and I smell like a peppermint.
Everything was fine until I had that sudden craving... You know how it happens. Admit it. You've been there too haven't you?
You suddenly think of something you need, something that will make everything right in the world. It could be anything, but in that one moment, you just have to have that thing.
For me, it was mint chocolate chip ice cream.
So I made the trek to Smallborotonville and obtained the thing I sought.
I never thought it would end up like this... Hogtied in a shed in the back woods.
I just wanted some ice cream dammit...
Uh-oh, someone's coming...
I'll be back, hopefully.
Everything was fine until I had that sudden craving... You know how it happens. Admit it. You've been there too haven't you?
You suddenly think of something you need, something that will make everything right in the world. It could be anything, but in that one moment, you just have to have that thing.
For me, it was mint chocolate chip ice cream.
So I made the trek to Smallborotonville and obtained the thing I sought.
I never thought it would end up like this... Hogtied in a shed in the back woods.
I just wanted some ice cream dammit...
Uh-oh, someone's coming...
I'll be back, hopefully.
Beware of 2am...or, Gotta Love Those Flying Monkeys
It's 2:38am and I just realized that I've yet to tell you about the flying monkey I met the other day... Now the time has come.
Of course, my grandfather always says,
"Nothing good ever happens after 2am."
This was one of his favorite sayings to me as a child, along with, "It's always a mistake to educate women," and, "All good girls should be home and in bed by 10pm."
Ahh...what a progressive that man is.
Still, you've got to love him for being true to himself.
I just like to prove him wrong sometimes.
So here's what...
When I left off previously, I was hanging by my brightly colored fingernails from a ledge on the roof of Borders in Concord. Suffice to say, I survived.
This shouldn't be a shock to any of you, since I'm nothing if not a survivor.
The part that might surprise you is the flying monkey.
Yeah, I said it.
There was a monkey.
It flew.
No, I'm not tripping. The fact of the matter is, I have never consumed any illegal drugs by either choice or by a random act of chance. No judgment of anyone who for his or her own reasons chooses to partake, it's just... Illegal (and even most legal) drugs are not for me. My take on it is, if I'm going to do something stupid... I want to remember it. I always want to be in control of my own actions. I don't want my pain dulled...life IS pain, and I don't plan to miss out on it. Plus, I don't ever want to wake up and think...'Oh God, WTF did I do?' I'm not even a big drinker... in my entire 33 years I've only been seriously drunk 2 times...and one of them doesn't count, since it was anesthetic in nature after hearing that one of my most favorite people in the whole world had died a sudden and violent death.
Anyway, take it for what it's worth... Besides...
This is what I'm like awake, aware and stone cold sober... Can you imagine what I'd be like on illegal chemical/natural/stimulants/depressants?
Yeah, enough said.
So anyway, there I was, hanging by the tiniest thread...
I considered giving up.
In fact, in those few moments I thought long and hard about just... letting go. It would have been so easy... So... very, very easy...
But then I thought, 'Hell no! Why make it easy on the bad guys? I am here to answer the call of all those in distress, all people with spare time on their hands looking for some mindless entertainment! And what will all those uneaten cheesecakes do without me??'
I did not let go.
Nanoseconds later, I was glad that I'd chosen to hang on. If I hadn't, I would have missed out on the chance to fly by monkey.
Naturally, as I clung to the ledge my breathing was rapid, my feet scrabbled against the pebbled side of the building, my arms ached, my fingers were locked in claw position, and my eyes throbbed from the roof dust... I may even have sneezed on the dirt crusting my sinus cavities. As a result, I failed to hear anyone approach.
However, even I couldn't help but notice when the back of my shirt pulled taught, pinching my throat. There was a sharp tug. My fingers began to give way. Though I struggled with all that I had left, the acid build up in my muscles had become more than I could stand.
I finally let go.
But I didn't fall... I simply hung there in mid air, inches from the roof and a few feet away from a possibly painful, and certainly icky, death.
I raised my face to the sky above, certain I would see a fireman, or some sort of rescue professional.
Instead, I saw the brown eyes, hairy face and enormous teeth of a monkey--with gray wings... Huge gray wings.
It was grinning at me.
I blinked, certain that in my last moments on earth I had completely lost it...
Of course, there are some who would say I never had it to begin with, but what do they know?
This hairy, cheerfully smiling savior patted me on the head and then lifted me high into the air. Clutching the back of my shirt in his feet, the monkey carried me to safety and deposited me, dirty but none the worse for it, gently on the ground outside of Lowe's. While I was still bent over, catching my breath and becoming re-acquainted with the ground, he took off without a word, or even a grunt.
When I looked up into the sky, there were no clouds...and no monkey. Still, I hadn't flown over the roof of Borders and into a neighboring parking lot by myself.
I may be a rip-roaring pirate queen... but I do not have wings.
You could have knocked me over with a toothbrush... and I'm no light-weight.
Being a Zen Buddhist, I'm no great believer in angels or demons...
But I do believe in monkeys.
And flying ones are super cool.
I'm just sayin'.
Hey... thanks Monkey.
Of course, my grandfather always says,
"Nothing good ever happens after 2am."
This was one of his favorite sayings to me as a child, along with, "It's always a mistake to educate women," and, "All good girls should be home and in bed by 10pm."
Ahh...what a progressive that man is.
Still, you've got to love him for being true to himself.
I just like to prove him wrong sometimes.
So here's what...
When I left off previously, I was hanging by my brightly colored fingernails from a ledge on the roof of Borders in Concord. Suffice to say, I survived.
This shouldn't be a shock to any of you, since I'm nothing if not a survivor.
The part that might surprise you is the flying monkey.
Yeah, I said it.
There was a monkey.
It flew.
No, I'm not tripping. The fact of the matter is, I have never consumed any illegal drugs by either choice or by a random act of chance. No judgment of anyone who for his or her own reasons chooses to partake, it's just... Illegal (and even most legal) drugs are not for me. My take on it is, if I'm going to do something stupid... I want to remember it. I always want to be in control of my own actions. I don't want my pain dulled...life IS pain, and I don't plan to miss out on it. Plus, I don't ever want to wake up and think...'Oh God, WTF did I do?' I'm not even a big drinker... in my entire 33 years I've only been seriously drunk 2 times...and one of them doesn't count, since it was anesthetic in nature after hearing that one of my most favorite people in the whole world had died a sudden and violent death.
Anyway, take it for what it's worth... Besides...
This is what I'm like awake, aware and stone cold sober... Can you imagine what I'd be like on illegal chemical/natural/stimulants/depressants?
Yeah, enough said.
So anyway, there I was, hanging by the tiniest thread...
I considered giving up.
In fact, in those few moments I thought long and hard about just... letting go. It would have been so easy... So... very, very easy...
But then I thought, 'Hell no! Why make it easy on the bad guys? I am here to answer the call of all those in distress, all people with spare time on their hands looking for some mindless entertainment! And what will all those uneaten cheesecakes do without me??'
I did not let go.
Nanoseconds later, I was glad that I'd chosen to hang on. If I hadn't, I would have missed out on the chance to fly by monkey.
Naturally, as I clung to the ledge my breathing was rapid, my feet scrabbled against the pebbled side of the building, my arms ached, my fingers were locked in claw position, and my eyes throbbed from the roof dust... I may even have sneezed on the dirt crusting my sinus cavities. As a result, I failed to hear anyone approach.
However, even I couldn't help but notice when the back of my shirt pulled taught, pinching my throat. There was a sharp tug. My fingers began to give way. Though I struggled with all that I had left, the acid build up in my muscles had become more than I could stand.
I finally let go.
But I didn't fall... I simply hung there in mid air, inches from the roof and a few feet away from a possibly painful, and certainly icky, death.
I raised my face to the sky above, certain I would see a fireman, or some sort of rescue professional.
Instead, I saw the brown eyes, hairy face and enormous teeth of a monkey--with gray wings... Huge gray wings.
It was grinning at me.
I blinked, certain that in my last moments on earth I had completely lost it...
Of course, there are some who would say I never had it to begin with, but what do they know?
This hairy, cheerfully smiling savior patted me on the head and then lifted me high into the air. Clutching the back of my shirt in his feet, the monkey carried me to safety and deposited me, dirty but none the worse for it, gently on the ground outside of Lowe's. While I was still bent over, catching my breath and becoming re-acquainted with the ground, he took off without a word, or even a grunt.
When I looked up into the sky, there were no clouds...and no monkey. Still, I hadn't flown over the roof of Borders and into a neighboring parking lot by myself.
I may be a rip-roaring pirate queen... but I do not have wings.
You could have knocked me over with a toothbrush... and I'm no light-weight.
Being a Zen Buddhist, I'm no great believer in angels or demons...
But I do believe in monkeys.
And flying ones are super cool.
I'm just sayin'.
Hey... thanks Monkey.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Reality is Overrated
So I was asked to write a short bio of myself for a job that I recently obtained...
I laughed.
I asked if it was okay for me to write about how I got a scar on my left butt cheek from running with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain.
The person who requested the bio gave me a quelling look. She seemed to find my response lacking in seriousness.
Suitably chagrined (in appearance at least, if not in spirit) I said, "Okay, I'll write something appropriate."
I wrote an accurate, if slightly boring, biography of myself in 4 sentences.
It was so dull I almost fell asleep while completing sentence number two.
What is with people's obsession with "reality?"
No one seems to understand that I'm all about imagination... Why this insistence on "keeping it real?"
Here's what I really want to say about my own life...
Aikens is a twenty-eight year old Pirate Queen with a history of debauchery and pillaging that ranges as far afield as Montana. She carries a knife in her boot and a metal ruler in her car. She has been known to climb buildings and torture red necks for fun and profit. Aikens steals from the rich and gives their stuff to the needy (she frequently includes herself in the "needy" section). She once leaped from a moving train while traveling cross-country with MCShank on a mission for mental health (her own) and reads Kurt Vonnegut to maintain her dubious hold on sanity. This Pirate Queen's motto is, "do whatever you want, as long as you can live with the consequences."
What's wrong with that bio? It may not be strictly "true" but anyone reading it will certainly learn a hell of a lot more about me than would someone reading a dry recitation of my actual life and accomplishments...
Reality sucks. FIGHT ENTROPY!!!
I laughed.
I asked if it was okay for me to write about how I got a scar on my left butt cheek from running with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain.
The person who requested the bio gave me a quelling look. She seemed to find my response lacking in seriousness.
Suitably chagrined (in appearance at least, if not in spirit) I said, "Okay, I'll write something appropriate."
I wrote an accurate, if slightly boring, biography of myself in 4 sentences.
It was so dull I almost fell asleep while completing sentence number two.
What is with people's obsession with "reality?"
No one seems to understand that I'm all about imagination... Why this insistence on "keeping it real?"
Here's what I really want to say about my own life...
Aikens is a twenty-eight year old Pirate Queen with a history of debauchery and pillaging that ranges as far afield as Montana. She carries a knife in her boot and a metal ruler in her car. She has been known to climb buildings and torture red necks for fun and profit. Aikens steals from the rich and gives their stuff to the needy (she frequently includes herself in the "needy" section). She once leaped from a moving train while traveling cross-country with MCShank on a mission for mental health (her own) and reads Kurt Vonnegut to maintain her dubious hold on sanity. This Pirate Queen's motto is, "do whatever you want, as long as you can live with the consequences."
What's wrong with that bio? It may not be strictly "true" but anyone reading it will certainly learn a hell of a lot more about me than would someone reading a dry recitation of my actual life and accomplishments...
Reality sucks. FIGHT ENTROPY!!!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
How to Become a Pirate
Well, I got a question this evening from a party interested in matriculating at Aikens' Subterranean University. This lovely young woman asked me,
"How do I become a pirate?"
Such a simple question... but oh-so-loaded.
I told her that it was simple enough... one merely chooses the pirate lifestyle and never looks back.
Oh, and there is a secret knock too.
But you don't learn about that until after initiation.
The initiation consists of a series of tests.
Keep in mind, the Pirate Lifestyle is not for the faint of heart. Don't commit to it unless you are fond of pain and suffering... most especially the pain and suffering of others (but also for yourself to a certain extent).
I mean, sure, once you're a Queen, like me, it's all cabin boys and treasure... But building a following? That takes cojones of steel my friends.
And then of course, there is the Pirate Pledge of Allegiance, an oath which all aspiring scurvy knaves must take before they can be admitted to the Society of Pillagers.
It's not to be taken lightly.
There's a whole process...
But just remember, becoming a pirate is a lot like anything else...
The first step is admitting that you have a problem.
Hi! My name is Virginia and I'm sick of life as it is! So I've decided to be a pirate! ARGH!! (Audience response: "Hi Virginia!")
See how simple, yet complex it is?
Any other questions? I'd be happy to clarify.
"How do I become a pirate?"
Such a simple question... but oh-so-loaded.
I told her that it was simple enough... one merely chooses the pirate lifestyle and never looks back.
Oh, and there is a secret knock too.
But you don't learn about that until after initiation.
The initiation consists of a series of tests.
Keep in mind, the Pirate Lifestyle is not for the faint of heart. Don't commit to it unless you are fond of pain and suffering... most especially the pain and suffering of others (but also for yourself to a certain extent).
I mean, sure, once you're a Queen, like me, it's all cabin boys and treasure... But building a following? That takes cojones of steel my friends.
And then of course, there is the Pirate Pledge of Allegiance, an oath which all aspiring scurvy knaves must take before they can be admitted to the Society of Pillagers.
It's not to be taken lightly.
There's a whole process...
But just remember, becoming a pirate is a lot like anything else...
The first step is admitting that you have a problem.
Hi! My name is Virginia and I'm sick of life as it is! So I've decided to be a pirate! ARGH!! (Audience response: "Hi Virginia!")
See how simple, yet complex it is?
Any other questions? I'd be happy to clarify.
Too Short and Not Nearly Enough Cheesecake
I have come to the realization that in my 33 short years (well, short given the entire span of human history that is) I have not eaten nearly enough cheesecake.
It goes something like this:
Given: To me, cheesecake equals love, happiness, fun, family, friends, etc. In other words, it is the edible equivalent of all the good things in life... A symbol, if you will, of all the best.
Given: Life is far too short. Over the past few months I've really come to appreciate this fact. (For the second time in my life).
Conclusion: Life should contain more cheesecake. Who cares about the fat and calories? I could get smashed to smithereens by a semi while driving to Merrimack today and end up in God's waiting room before you know it.
Bottom line here?
Less stress... MORE CHEESECAKE.
It goes something like this:
Given: To me, cheesecake equals love, happiness, fun, family, friends, etc. In other words, it is the edible equivalent of all the good things in life... A symbol, if you will, of all the best.
Given: Life is far too short. Over the past few months I've really come to appreciate this fact. (For the second time in my life).
Conclusion: Life should contain more cheesecake. Who cares about the fat and calories? I could get smashed to smithereens by a semi while driving to Merrimack today and end up in God's waiting room before you know it.
Bottom line here?
Less stress... MORE CHEESECAKE.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Fighting the Good Fight
Well, tonight, as I hang from a ledge by my fuchsia pink fingernails, I find that I have a few moments of time on my hands (ha ha) to pause and contemplate how difficult it can often be to fight the good fight...
You see, it all began innocently enough...
There I was, at Borders in Concord, looking through the astrology section. I have never really given much credence to astrology but I have flirted with the idea of predestination to some extent.
Recently destiny appears to be rearing it's ugly head... you see, much as I attempt to deny and rage against fate, my career as a Saltminer of some sort, somewhere seems to be following me around like a bad smell...
Anyway, back to the story at hand.
There I was, perusing the in-stock offerings on destiny, when I heard a commotion from the back of the store.
Moments later, two men came rushing past me, shouting that someone was on the roof and threatening to jump.
This intrigued me. You see, though I have been depressed and disheartened, the real idea of just ending it all has never seemed like a viable option to me. Frankly, I consider suicide to be horribly selfish. But that's just me.
Anyway, curious as ever, I sauntered on my spiky red shoes to the back of the store. There was a large crowd of employees just standing there, wondering out loud what to do, other than to call the Concord PD. It only took about 24 seconds before I found myself growing irritated by the crowd's hesitation to act... So I spoke up,
"Hey, I can talk to him. Where is he?"
I must say, it's just like I've always thought...the majority of people are more than happy to let someone else take charge in a crisis... even someone like me, who clearly has no idea what they heck they are doing.
So I went up to the roof and there he was... it was Jericho, my old comrade from South Boston.
He was standing by the edge of the roof, hunched over slightly, peering down at the ground. When he heard me approach he turned. He appeared completely unsurprised by my appearance, which bowled me over because I was shocked as hell to see him.
As per usual, I opened the negotiations with some of my incredibly witty banter, saying,
"Hey."
He, seeming less than impressed, turned back to his search for a painful landing spot. He allowed me to come within about three feet of him before saying,
"Don't even bother PQ. It's over. Besides, I've heard all about your troubles from Seymour, you haven't got any more to live for than I do, so don't even try to tell me 'it's all gonna be alright' or any bull to that effect."
When I first arrived on the roof to see him, I'd been shocked, then sad...but now...
I was pissed.
I fought down the urge to just kick him in the ass with my red shoe by biting the inside of my mouth and taking a long, slow breath. Hoping that somehow inspiration would suddenly come to my rescue in the event that some higher power failed to speak through me, I opened my mouth and started to speak... what came out was a shock even to me... I said,
"I find your whining purile and self serving. If you're really ready to kill yourself and not just making a pathetic cry for attention, then you better do it now before the police get here and put themselves at risk trying to save your disease ridden hide. Honestly, you make me sick with your whining and complaining. Exactly what the hell are you waiting for?"
For a moment his spine straightened and he turned to look at me, considering me seriously for perhaps the first time of our entire acquaintence.
Now it was his turn to look shocked, and then furious.
Thankfully, at this point he was so pissed, he took a step toward me and away from the edge of the roof. Unfortunately, at this point, a siren sounded, startling me and Jericho both.
That would have been fine, if the roof hadn't chosen just that very moment to shift under our feet.
Oddly enough, the roof of Borders in Concord has been leaking for some time... actually that was the reason why Jericho had been allowed to get to the roof, someone thought he was a contractor... It must have been the steel-toed boots...
Anyway, the roof began to, well, slide. Small pebbles began rolling off the roof, as the metal listed to one side. The movement threw both of us flat down to our stomachs. Within seconds my nose was full of dirt and my eyes stung.
'Well, this is just freaking great,' I thought, as I felt myself sliding ever nearer to a painful death.
In another instant my feet were no longer touching anything solid, next went my legs, my torso, and eventually everything with the exception of my brightly polished fingernails. Somehow, I'd managed to find some sort of purchase on the edge of the slipping, sliding section of roof (Mother of Carlos I love aliteration).
This, as I stated at the beginning of this story, gave me just the time I needed to ponder fighting the good fight...
I suddenly realized, that I've somehow been fighting all my life... usually for other people.
This time I was fighting for me.
I don't know how I did it... how I'm doing it...
But I'm holding on with all my might...
Damn.
I hope rescue arrives pretty damn quick.
You see, it all began innocently enough...
There I was, at Borders in Concord, looking through the astrology section. I have never really given much credence to astrology but I have flirted with the idea of predestination to some extent.
Recently destiny appears to be rearing it's ugly head... you see, much as I attempt to deny and rage against fate, my career as a Saltminer of some sort, somewhere seems to be following me around like a bad smell...
Anyway, back to the story at hand.
There I was, perusing the in-stock offerings on destiny, when I heard a commotion from the back of the store.
Moments later, two men came rushing past me, shouting that someone was on the roof and threatening to jump.
This intrigued me. You see, though I have been depressed and disheartened, the real idea of just ending it all has never seemed like a viable option to me. Frankly, I consider suicide to be horribly selfish. But that's just me.
Anyway, curious as ever, I sauntered on my spiky red shoes to the back of the store. There was a large crowd of employees just standing there, wondering out loud what to do, other than to call the Concord PD. It only took about 24 seconds before I found myself growing irritated by the crowd's hesitation to act... So I spoke up,
"Hey, I can talk to him. Where is he?"
I must say, it's just like I've always thought...the majority of people are more than happy to let someone else take charge in a crisis... even someone like me, who clearly has no idea what they heck they are doing.
So I went up to the roof and there he was... it was Jericho, my old comrade from South Boston.
He was standing by the edge of the roof, hunched over slightly, peering down at the ground. When he heard me approach he turned. He appeared completely unsurprised by my appearance, which bowled me over because I was shocked as hell to see him.
As per usual, I opened the negotiations with some of my incredibly witty banter, saying,
"Hey."
He, seeming less than impressed, turned back to his search for a painful landing spot. He allowed me to come within about three feet of him before saying,
"Don't even bother PQ. It's over. Besides, I've heard all about your troubles from Seymour, you haven't got any more to live for than I do, so don't even try to tell me 'it's all gonna be alright' or any bull to that effect."
When I first arrived on the roof to see him, I'd been shocked, then sad...but now...
I was pissed.
I fought down the urge to just kick him in the ass with my red shoe by biting the inside of my mouth and taking a long, slow breath. Hoping that somehow inspiration would suddenly come to my rescue in the event that some higher power failed to speak through me, I opened my mouth and started to speak... what came out was a shock even to me... I said,
"I find your whining purile and self serving. If you're really ready to kill yourself and not just making a pathetic cry for attention, then you better do it now before the police get here and put themselves at risk trying to save your disease ridden hide. Honestly, you make me sick with your whining and complaining. Exactly what the hell are you waiting for?"
For a moment his spine straightened and he turned to look at me, considering me seriously for perhaps the first time of our entire acquaintence.
Now it was his turn to look shocked, and then furious.
Thankfully, at this point he was so pissed, he took a step toward me and away from the edge of the roof. Unfortunately, at this point, a siren sounded, startling me and Jericho both.
That would have been fine, if the roof hadn't chosen just that very moment to shift under our feet.
Oddly enough, the roof of Borders in Concord has been leaking for some time... actually that was the reason why Jericho had been allowed to get to the roof, someone thought he was a contractor... It must have been the steel-toed boots...
Anyway, the roof began to, well, slide. Small pebbles began rolling off the roof, as the metal listed to one side. The movement threw both of us flat down to our stomachs. Within seconds my nose was full of dirt and my eyes stung.
'Well, this is just freaking great,' I thought, as I felt myself sliding ever nearer to a painful death.
In another instant my feet were no longer touching anything solid, next went my legs, my torso, and eventually everything with the exception of my brightly polished fingernails. Somehow, I'd managed to find some sort of purchase on the edge of the slipping, sliding section of roof (Mother of Carlos I love aliteration).
This, as I stated at the beginning of this story, gave me just the time I needed to ponder fighting the good fight...
I suddenly realized, that I've somehow been fighting all my life... usually for other people.
This time I was fighting for me.
I don't know how I did it... how I'm doing it...
But I'm holding on with all my might...
Damn.
I hope rescue arrives pretty damn quick.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Greg Chase and the Smallness of Life, the Universe and Everything
I have always firmly held the opinion that the world is essentially a tiny, tiny place.
Tonight confirms that belief.
You see... another one of my opinions is, that if I stand still long enough in one public place, I will eventually see at least one person that I need to see for my own sanity.
Ever heard of psychic magnetism?
The idea has been around for a long time but was most recently written about in a book by one of my favorite fiction writers... The theory goes like this... if you focus on a person, maybe not even anyone specific, and then you just kind of wander without thinking too much, eventually you will inevitably find the person you are subconsciously seeking.
It's true. It happens to me all the time.
If I'm feeling depressed and unloved (as I was earlier this evening, prior to meeting MCShank for Earl Grey) I will go to some public place, clear my mind, and wander as aimlessly as possible.
Eventually I will run in to just the person I need to see.
Tonight, that person was Greg Chase.
Have I ever mentioned that I love Greg Chase?
So there I was, in the parking lot at Borders, getting ready to get in my car and slog back home, when from across the acres of blacktop, a guy on a bike shouts my name at the top of his lungs. He pedals madly across the intervening distance, and just before he runs headlong into my car, he LEAPS off his bike and throws his arms around me for the best hug this side of the Merrimack River.
We ended up talking for almost an hour while freezing our butts off outside the closed bookstore.
You know me... I generally tell outrageous stories here with just a grain of truth, but the reality of this one was so surreal, I just don't think it needs dressing up.
Greg Chase is the very same man who once told me the inevitable truth of the Tilton paradox. He said,
"Aikens... Tilton is like Las Vegas... Whatever happens in Tilton, stays in Tilton. The only problem is, unlike Vegas, no one ever LEAVES Tilton."
Oh, how right you are my friend.
I love Greg Chase.
I'm just sayin'.
Tonight confirms that belief.
You see... another one of my opinions is, that if I stand still long enough in one public place, I will eventually see at least one person that I need to see for my own sanity.
Ever heard of psychic magnetism?
The idea has been around for a long time but was most recently written about in a book by one of my favorite fiction writers... The theory goes like this... if you focus on a person, maybe not even anyone specific, and then you just kind of wander without thinking too much, eventually you will inevitably find the person you are subconsciously seeking.
It's true. It happens to me all the time.
If I'm feeling depressed and unloved (as I was earlier this evening, prior to meeting MCShank for Earl Grey) I will go to some public place, clear my mind, and wander as aimlessly as possible.
Eventually I will run in to just the person I need to see.
Tonight, that person was Greg Chase.
Have I ever mentioned that I love Greg Chase?
So there I was, in the parking lot at Borders, getting ready to get in my car and slog back home, when from across the acres of blacktop, a guy on a bike shouts my name at the top of his lungs. He pedals madly across the intervening distance, and just before he runs headlong into my car, he LEAPS off his bike and throws his arms around me for the best hug this side of the Merrimack River.
We ended up talking for almost an hour while freezing our butts off outside the closed bookstore.
You know me... I generally tell outrageous stories here with just a grain of truth, but the reality of this one was so surreal, I just don't think it needs dressing up.
Greg Chase is the very same man who once told me the inevitable truth of the Tilton paradox. He said,
"Aikens... Tilton is like Las Vegas... Whatever happens in Tilton, stays in Tilton. The only problem is, unlike Vegas, no one ever LEAVES Tilton."
Oh, how right you are my friend.
I love Greg Chase.
I'm just sayin'.
New Course Offerings at Aikens' Subterranean University
Well, it appears that there are indeed people who long for the good life of the pirate and here at ASU we strive to please... and also to take your money.
Is that spare change rattling around in your pockets? We can hear a doubloon drop from 500 paces...
We are PIRATES after all.
So, in the interest of staying current and offering a selection of courses that will appeal to one and all and after consulting with specialists in their fields, the staff here at ASU have developed some courses which will please the multitudes and continue to prepare our matriculating students for life out there in the big, bad world. They are as follows:
The Pirate to English Dictionary, or Swearing 311
This advanced language course will prepare you for whatever quirks of fortune life may send your way. Are you sick of the old standbys? (Fiddle-dee-dee, dang, crap...they've all been done to death). Here at ASU, we're all about creativity and no self respecting pirate can be expected to lack the necessary accoutrement of a good swear. After successful completion, you need never be speechless again.
Rage, Friend or Foe? 278
Ignore those pathetic whiners who say that rage is hazardous to your health. The truth is, rage is just good clean fun. Learn the benefits of a rage-filled lifestyle. In this course you will learn to transcend the boundaries of good taste, "cleanliness" of speech and good form. Take your inner pit bull and run those weak-willed pacifists into the ground!
Swearing 604
This graduate level course will continue to expand on the pirate-to-English dictionary. By the time you finish, your vocabulary will have grown to encompass not just the swears of 12 different languages but will also include all the newest Pirate idioms. There is no final exam; the course will culminate in a competition in which all students will go up against that linguistic genius, The Pirate Queen, in a battle royal for supremacy in swearing. The PQ currently holds the record for most swears without a breath... do you have what it takes to stand against her?
First Mates, Cabin Boys and Native Lackeys 708
For all those who have grown tired of serving themselves, this advanced course will instruct you in the finer points of getting others to do your dirty work. Whether you aspire to own a small island nation or become president of the United States, this valuable course offering will prepare you to subjugate anyone who looks like they might have the tiniest smidgen of leadership ability or intelligence, placing them forever under your thumb and at your mercy.
"I Curse Your Sudden but Inevitable Betrayal!" or, Famous Last Words---802
AS any successful (and many highly UN-successful) pirates know, mutiny is pretty much inevitable. This graduate level course will teach you how to "go out in style." After all... they can take you livelihood, your eye patch and your peg-leg but NEVER allow them to take your dignity. Guest speakers will include famous people who went down in a blaze of glory and will be channeled by The Pirate Queen herself. Tuition will include the cost of enough rum to enable the PQ to "reach out to the forces of the beyond." (Warning: This one could be expensive).
"Don't'cha Hate it When that Happens?" or, Sailing Basics 100-- After a disastrous class of '08 shipwreck on the shoals of Emerald Lake last spring, ASU has discovered the need for a remedial sailing course for all the scurvy swabs admitted to our institution... In a world populated by weak-willed nancys who've never been without electricity, it's time to toughen you up and teach you what it's really like to be a pirate. Tuition is free. The course will culminate in a 1 month sailing voyage along the eastern seaboard in January '09. Includes all the weevil-infested hard-tack and salt pork you can shake a peg-leg at. This course will fill quickly, so act now and register soon.
__________________________________________________
As you can see... Here at ASU, it's all about what YOU need.
Unlike other higher learning institutions, the staff at Aikens' Subterranean University keeps its ear to the ground and listens for the hoof beats of progress... or rather, the lack thereof.
Don't hesitate!
Haven't you always wanted to be a pirate? Well now, you can be.
And remember, here at ASU...
We never spare the rum.
Yo-ho, y0-ho MATEY!
Is that spare change rattling around in your pockets? We can hear a doubloon drop from 500 paces...
We are PIRATES after all.
So, in the interest of staying current and offering a selection of courses that will appeal to one and all and after consulting with specialists in their fields, the staff here at ASU have developed some courses which will please the multitudes and continue to prepare our matriculating students for life out there in the big, bad world. They are as follows:
The Pirate to English Dictionary, or Swearing 311
This advanced language course will prepare you for whatever quirks of fortune life may send your way. Are you sick of the old standbys? (Fiddle-dee-dee, dang, crap...they've all been done to death). Here at ASU, we're all about creativity and no self respecting pirate can be expected to lack the necessary accoutrement of a good swear. After successful completion, you need never be speechless again.
Rage, Friend or Foe? 278
Ignore those pathetic whiners who say that rage is hazardous to your health. The truth is, rage is just good clean fun. Learn the benefits of a rage-filled lifestyle. In this course you will learn to transcend the boundaries of good taste, "cleanliness" of speech and good form. Take your inner pit bull and run those weak-willed pacifists into the ground!
Swearing 604
This graduate level course will continue to expand on the pirate-to-English dictionary. By the time you finish, your vocabulary will have grown to encompass not just the swears of 12 different languages but will also include all the newest Pirate idioms. There is no final exam; the course will culminate in a competition in which all students will go up against that linguistic genius, The Pirate Queen, in a battle royal for supremacy in swearing. The PQ currently holds the record for most swears without a breath... do you have what it takes to stand against her?
First Mates, Cabin Boys and Native Lackeys 708
For all those who have grown tired of serving themselves, this advanced course will instruct you in the finer points of getting others to do your dirty work. Whether you aspire to own a small island nation or become president of the United States, this valuable course offering will prepare you to subjugate anyone who looks like they might have the tiniest smidgen of leadership ability or intelligence, placing them forever under your thumb and at your mercy.
"I Curse Your Sudden but Inevitable Betrayal!" or, Famous Last Words---802
AS any successful (and many highly UN-successful) pirates know, mutiny is pretty much inevitable. This graduate level course will teach you how to "go out in style." After all... they can take you livelihood, your eye patch and your peg-leg but NEVER allow them to take your dignity. Guest speakers will include famous people who went down in a blaze of glory and will be channeled by The Pirate Queen herself. Tuition will include the cost of enough rum to enable the PQ to "reach out to the forces of the beyond." (Warning: This one could be expensive).
"Don't'cha Hate it When that Happens?" or, Sailing Basics 100-- After a disastrous class of '08 shipwreck on the shoals of Emerald Lake last spring, ASU has discovered the need for a remedial sailing course for all the scurvy swabs admitted to our institution... In a world populated by weak-willed nancys who've never been without electricity, it's time to toughen you up and teach you what it's really like to be a pirate. Tuition is free. The course will culminate in a 1 month sailing voyage along the eastern seaboard in January '09. Includes all the weevil-infested hard-tack and salt pork you can shake a peg-leg at. This course will fill quickly, so act now and register soon.
__________________________________________________
As you can see... Here at ASU, it's all about what YOU need.
Unlike other higher learning institutions, the staff at Aikens' Subterranean University keeps its ear to the ground and listens for the hoof beats of progress... or rather, the lack thereof.
Don't hesitate!
Haven't you always wanted to be a pirate? Well now, you can be.
And remember, here at ASU...
We never spare the rum.
Yo-ho, y0-ho MATEY!
For a Good Time, Call...
The Pirate Queen.
Oh yeah, I said it.
As you may already know, I am currently footloose and fancy free... Well, not really. Mostly, I'm just under-employed.
The bad news is... I have $1.83 in my bank account and my gas tank is almost always on "E."
The good news is... I have had some incredible adventures and I'm going to share them with you.
For the past three days I have been subbing a newspaper route for the Daily Union Monitor in Concord, NH.
Concord is kind of like vanilla yogurt... only it lacks culture.
Don't get me wrong... I like doing paper routes. It's easy, I can drive like a crazy person, play my music at MAX VOL and talk to myself with no one around to judge me.
Plus, I'm desperate for money.
But I also have to admit... Concord is a looney bin, and it is a damn good time at 3am.
So here they are for your perusal... some honest-to-Carlos moments in the life of the Pirate Queen as a paper girl... (Even I can't make this crap up).
______________________________________________________
1:30am --Friday-- I show up at the dock. I am wearing a red velvet bustier, a black zip-up hoodie (not zipped), black patent heels and low-rise blue jeans. I have a serious case of classic Pirate Queen bedhead...and I look like I just left a club. (It's laundry day and my flats have gone AWOL...quit judging me).
The guy on the dock looks at me and says,
"Uhhhh...hel--lo there."
I ask him when I can load my car up. He replies,
"Uhhh...he-re" (He manages to give the word "here" at least two syllables...what a charmer).
I tell him, "I'm going to back up now." He says,
"Uhhh...you can do whatever you want."
I can't manage to avoid feeling his eyes crawl down my body like the coils of a large snake. I shudder and turn away.
When I back up, I almost (accidentally of course) hit him with the door of my car.
He finally wipes the drool off his chin and steps back.
______
2:00am --Friday-- Just as I finish loading my car chock full of newsy goodness, I overhear the following snippet of conversation from the car next to me, which is occupied by two people of dubious moral fiber (and this is ME talking) wearing flannel. One is male and one is female... only I can't actually tell which is which.
"I just don't get it." (man/woman #1)
"You don't get what?" (man/woman #2)
"My cat." (man/woman #1)
"What about her?" (man/woman #2)
"She hates me. She scratched the shit out of my hand today... I just don't get it. I mean, I give her a bath EVERY day... Doesn't she know I love her?" (man/woman #1)
"That's weird. Maybe she just doesn't like the soap you're using..." (man/woman #2)
I can't manage to pull out before I let out a snort of derisive laughter.
I almost feel superior, until I realize... I'm unemployed, broke, over-educated...and doing exactly the same job these two clueless half-wits are doing.
At the nearest stop sign I pull over and bang my head against the steering wheel as hard as I can until the world makes sense again.
____
3:47am --Friday-- On Fisherville Rd I drive at my usual sedate pace... 45mph, slowing down enough to just barely pull into the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot without taking out the stop sign at the drive entrance.
I am getting out to fill the paper box with D.U.M.s (heh heh) when I see blue lights...
Police Officer: "Having fun ma'am?"
P.Queen: "Umm... yes?"
Police Officer: *sigh* "Please slow it down, I've been following you for a mile... you hit the speed limit once and never looked back."
P.Queen: "I'm... uh, sorry..."
Police Officer: (looking unconvinced) "O--kay."
_____
4:54am --Friday -- On Jennings Drive in Concord, just before I stop for the newspaper box, a middle aged man runs out into the road and lays down directly in the path of my car.
I slam on my breaks, get out, step over him, fill the paperbox, get back into my car, put it in reverse, cut the wheel hard, put it in drive and slowly go around him.
When I look in the rear view mirror, he is standing in the middle of the road, giving me the finger.
_____
1:30am --Saturday -- On the dock, picking up my papers, I hear this little bit of conversation:
"Oh yea? Well, I don't really have to work... I get $2,000 dollars a month for my disability. I'm just working here for fun."
"Really? Me too! I started working here a month ago... I still haven't cashed my first paycheck."
Once again, I leave the parking lot, stop at the stop sign, put the car in park and bang my head against the steering wheel until the pain in my forehead drives away my desire to go buy a gun.
Besides, I wouldn't know who to shoot first--them? Or myself?
_____
2:08am --Saturday -- Once again, I'm in Penacook.
Once again, I'm going 45 in a 30.
Only this time, I run a red light outside of 30 Pines Convenience Store... and make an illegal left turn in to the car wash parking lot.
Blue lights...
Heavy footsteps...
P.Queen: "Oh, hello officer."
Police Officer: "Do you know you just---"
P.Queen: "Ran a red light?"
Police Officer: "And you also--"
P.Queen: "Made an illegal turn?"
By this time he's taken out his flashlight and is shining it in my eyes, making them water. There is a long silence while I blink back tears...
Police Officer: "Oh, it's you... again." (pained sigh)
P.Queen: "Umm... sorry?" (queasy smile)
Police Officer: "Oh nevermind."
He gets back into his car and peels out.
____
2:36am --Saturday -- I'm in the parking lot of the Taco Bell on Loudon Rd. (aka The Stoner Cafe)... When out of the shadow of the overhang of the chain restaurant comes a teenage boy, wandering in slow motion across the parking lot, no doubt from the effects of one too many puffs of something illegal...and maybe a few too many Chalupas (I nearly got a contact high from being in his general vicinity).
He sees me.
He stops.
He reaches far down into a pocket of his jeans...
I just have time to wonder if I should have brought my mace, when he pulls out a packet of Domino's Sugar, rips it open and proceeds to sprinkle both me and my car with the white crystals.
Now it's my turn to drool in confusion.
He turns to me and says,
"Now you'll have good luck... Oh, nice butterfly by the way," and staggers back off into the night.
I still can't figure out if he was referring to my tattoo or the sticker on my car.
____
5:17am-- Saturday-- I'm in the 7-11 on Loudon Road in Concord.
There is a new guy working behind the counter. He takes my $7.50 in quarters and okays me to pump gas on #5.
He got off the plane from Pakistan about 3 weeks ago. (I'm not being racist, it's the truth, he told me that in exactly those words 4 days ago).
Before I can grab my Big Gulp and leave, he cocks his head to the side and says to me,
"You are married?"
Totally dumbfounded by his temerity, I reply, "Nope," and again, turn to leave.
He says, "You have boyfriend?"
Blink, blink. "Nope."
His eyes grow wide. He continues, "Why? You no like boys?"
Once again, my mouth is hanging open in surprise. I manage to say (having briefly lost the power to utter a complete sentence that doesn't sound like it came from a 6 year old on helium) "Uh, yes, I like. I like boys very much."
Once again he cocks his head, "Then why you have no boyfriend?"
I let loose a sigh, look deeply into his eyes and reply,
"You know... I ask myself that same question... every... single... day."
He shakes his head, looks me up and down... twice, shakes his head and says,
"American men... so stupid."
For the first time since prices hit $3.00/gal. I smile while pumping my gas.
____
In three nights I spot no fewer than 16 skunks, 2 foxes, 4 opossums and a hedgehog.
I manage to avoid hitting any of them.
Go me.
Ahh.
Who wouldn't love this job?
Oh yeah, I said it.
As you may already know, I am currently footloose and fancy free... Well, not really. Mostly, I'm just under-employed.
The bad news is... I have $1.83 in my bank account and my gas tank is almost always on "E."
The good news is... I have had some incredible adventures and I'm going to share them with you.
For the past three days I have been subbing a newspaper route for the Daily Union Monitor in Concord, NH.
Concord is kind of like vanilla yogurt... only it lacks culture.
Don't get me wrong... I like doing paper routes. It's easy, I can drive like a crazy person, play my music at MAX VOL and talk to myself with no one around to judge me.
Plus, I'm desperate for money.
But I also have to admit... Concord is a looney bin, and it is a damn good time at 3am.
So here they are for your perusal... some honest-to-Carlos moments in the life of the Pirate Queen as a paper girl... (Even I can't make this crap up).
______________________________________________________
1:30am --Friday-- I show up at the dock. I am wearing a red velvet bustier, a black zip-up hoodie (not zipped), black patent heels and low-rise blue jeans. I have a serious case of classic Pirate Queen bedhead...and I look like I just left a club. (It's laundry day and my flats have gone AWOL...quit judging me).
The guy on the dock looks at me and says,
"Uhhhh...hel--lo there."
I ask him when I can load my car up. He replies,
"Uhhh...he-re" (He manages to give the word "here" at least two syllables...what a charmer).
I tell him, "I'm going to back up now." He says,
"Uhhh...you can do whatever you want."
I can't manage to avoid feeling his eyes crawl down my body like the coils of a large snake. I shudder and turn away.
When I back up, I almost (accidentally of course) hit him with the door of my car.
He finally wipes the drool off his chin and steps back.
______
2:00am --Friday-- Just as I finish loading my car chock full of newsy goodness, I overhear the following snippet of conversation from the car next to me, which is occupied by two people of dubious moral fiber (and this is ME talking) wearing flannel. One is male and one is female... only I can't actually tell which is which.
"I just don't get it." (man/woman #1)
"You don't get what?" (man/woman #2)
"My cat." (man/woman #1)
"What about her?" (man/woman #2)
"She hates me. She scratched the shit out of my hand today... I just don't get it. I mean, I give her a bath EVERY day... Doesn't she know I love her?" (man/woman #1)
"That's weird. Maybe she just doesn't like the soap you're using..." (man/woman #2)
I can't manage to pull out before I let out a snort of derisive laughter.
I almost feel superior, until I realize... I'm unemployed, broke, over-educated...and doing exactly the same job these two clueless half-wits are doing.
At the nearest stop sign I pull over and bang my head against the steering wheel as hard as I can until the world makes sense again.
____
3:47am --Friday-- On Fisherville Rd I drive at my usual sedate pace... 45mph, slowing down enough to just barely pull into the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot without taking out the stop sign at the drive entrance.
I am getting out to fill the paper box with D.U.M.s (heh heh) when I see blue lights...
Police Officer: "Having fun ma'am?"
P.Queen: "Umm... yes?"
Police Officer: *sigh* "Please slow it down, I've been following you for a mile... you hit the speed limit once and never looked back."
P.Queen: "I'm... uh, sorry..."
Police Officer: (looking unconvinced) "O--kay."
_____
4:54am --Friday -- On Jennings Drive in Concord, just before I stop for the newspaper box, a middle aged man runs out into the road and lays down directly in the path of my car.
I slam on my breaks, get out, step over him, fill the paperbox, get back into my car, put it in reverse, cut the wheel hard, put it in drive and slowly go around him.
When I look in the rear view mirror, he is standing in the middle of the road, giving me the finger.
_____
1:30am --Saturday -- On the dock, picking up my papers, I hear this little bit of conversation:
"Oh yea? Well, I don't really have to work... I get $2,000 dollars a month for my disability. I'm just working here for fun."
"Really? Me too! I started working here a month ago... I still haven't cashed my first paycheck."
Once again, I leave the parking lot, stop at the stop sign, put the car in park and bang my head against the steering wheel until the pain in my forehead drives away my desire to go buy a gun.
Besides, I wouldn't know who to shoot first--them? Or myself?
_____
2:08am --Saturday -- Once again, I'm in Penacook.
Once again, I'm going 45 in a 30.
Only this time, I run a red light outside of 30 Pines Convenience Store... and make an illegal left turn in to the car wash parking lot.
Blue lights...
Heavy footsteps...
P.Queen: "Oh, hello officer."
Police Officer: "Do you know you just---"
P.Queen: "Ran a red light?"
Police Officer: "And you also--"
P.Queen: "Made an illegal turn?"
By this time he's taken out his flashlight and is shining it in my eyes, making them water. There is a long silence while I blink back tears...
Police Officer: "Oh, it's you... again." (pained sigh)
P.Queen: "Umm... sorry?" (queasy smile)
Police Officer: "Oh nevermind."
He gets back into his car and peels out.
____
2:36am --Saturday -- I'm in the parking lot of the Taco Bell on Loudon Rd. (aka The Stoner Cafe)... When out of the shadow of the overhang of the chain restaurant comes a teenage boy, wandering in slow motion across the parking lot, no doubt from the effects of one too many puffs of something illegal...and maybe a few too many Chalupas (I nearly got a contact high from being in his general vicinity).
He sees me.
He stops.
He reaches far down into a pocket of his jeans...
I just have time to wonder if I should have brought my mace, when he pulls out a packet of Domino's Sugar, rips it open and proceeds to sprinkle both me and my car with the white crystals.
Now it's my turn to drool in confusion.
He turns to me and says,
"Now you'll have good luck... Oh, nice butterfly by the way," and staggers back off into the night.
I still can't figure out if he was referring to my tattoo or the sticker on my car.
____
5:17am-- Saturday-- I'm in the 7-11 on Loudon Road in Concord.
There is a new guy working behind the counter. He takes my $7.50 in quarters and okays me to pump gas on #5.
He got off the plane from Pakistan about 3 weeks ago. (I'm not being racist, it's the truth, he told me that in exactly those words 4 days ago).
Before I can grab my Big Gulp and leave, he cocks his head to the side and says to me,
"You are married?"
Totally dumbfounded by his temerity, I reply, "Nope," and again, turn to leave.
He says, "You have boyfriend?"
Blink, blink. "Nope."
His eyes grow wide. He continues, "Why? You no like boys?"
Once again, my mouth is hanging open in surprise. I manage to say (having briefly lost the power to utter a complete sentence that doesn't sound like it came from a 6 year old on helium) "Uh, yes, I like. I like boys very much."
Once again he cocks his head, "Then why you have no boyfriend?"
I let loose a sigh, look deeply into his eyes and reply,
"You know... I ask myself that same question... every... single... day."
He shakes his head, looks me up and down... twice, shakes his head and says,
"American men... so stupid."
For the first time since prices hit $3.00/gal. I smile while pumping my gas.
____
In three nights I spot no fewer than 16 skunks, 2 foxes, 4 opossums and a hedgehog.
I manage to avoid hitting any of them.
Go me.
Ahh.
Who wouldn't love this job?
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Aikens Subterranean University
Are you tired of the college application process?
I know I am.
And let's face facts... English 101, International Business and Finance, Calculus 102...
These are things you are never going to need.
When and how often will you actually use them?
Try... NEVER.
So here is the perfect solution for you...
My friends, I am starting my own university... ASU, Aikens Subterranean University. I got the idea from some old friends who once joked about starting their own school, but I am in deadly earnest.
At my school (soon to receive it's accreditation from the NEASC, aka New England Association of Schools and Colleges) you will learn everything you REALLY need to know... Things that they don't teach at other, inferior, schools of higher learning.
Here is my mission statement:
At ASU we strive to offer a superior curriculum which will give you the tools you need to be successful out there in the "real world." The knowledge you accumulate whilst matriculating in our hallowed hall (Aikens' basement--hence the Subterranean designation) will be of use to you no matter where you end up, or what you wind up doing once you get there. We offer a varied selection of courses all geared toward one goal: WORLD DOMINATION! (And all for a nominal fee, which makes us a good buy as well as a smart place to launch you on your path to success).
Course Offerings:
Pillaging 101--Whether you are on a small Caribbean island or in NYC, pillaging is a skill useful in any career path. Here you will learn the basics of intimidation, stealth and escape when it seems all hope is lost. Instructor: The Pirate Queen
Pillaging 102--Here you will learn more advanced pillaging skills, useful to more specific career paths such as: intellectual property law, corporate take-overs, middle management and internet piracy. Instructor: The Pirate Queen
World Domination 101--It doesn't matter if you are just starting out, or trying to overthrow the peaceful government of Lichtenstein, this course will give you all the basic tools you need to start whisper campaigns, bloody coups, and full-blown Sam Adams style revolutions. Not for the faint of heart. Instructor: The Pirate Queen
Piracy, The Path to Greatness 202--This basic course will provide you with the skills and expertise you need, not only to look the part of a great pirate but also to teach you the basics. Topics covered are: eye patches, parrot grooming and domestication, swearing, balancing on a peg leg, and managing a crew of 20+ scurvy knaves, all from the relative discomfort of our dank basement location. Instructor: The Pirate Queen
Revolutions, Hard and Soft 203--A more advanced course than World Domination, this seminar will delve into the specifics of fomenting revolution, starting from the work place and working our way up to the entire Eastern Seaboard. Controlling everyone and everything has never been this easy! Look out Wal-Mart and Microsoft--THE PIRATES ARE COMING!!! Instructor: The Pirate Queen
Leadership: Make Them Love AND Fear You 302--This course will cover the basics as well as advanced tactics for mental manipulation of underlings and foes alike. By the time you have finished this course, all those around you will be willing to die in your service if called upon to do so... After all, every pirate queen needs a loyal crew and frightened enemies. Instructor: The Pirate Queen
Mutiny: Sound Idea or Pathway to Death? 405--This seminar will not only include several hours of instruction, it will culminate with a simulated mutiny. Those who survive and avoid having to walk the plank or be left tied to the mizzenmast will graduate successfully, prepared to go out and conquer the world!
__________________________________________________________________
As you can see, the Aikens Subterranean University is the ONLY choice for those willing and able to conquer the world... It's a dirty job but someone has to do it!
Courses are commencing soon and tuition is negotiable (as is everything when you aspire to the Pirate Life).
Don't allow this golden opportunity to pass you by... There is gold in other people's pockets, and soon it will be yours!!!*
*The Aikens Subterranean University is not responsible for any acts of violence and piracy that its matriculating students may perform. If you get caught, we will deny all knowledge of your existance and your record of ever having been a student will be barbecued and eaten by the pygmy residents of a small island nation.
AHOY MATEYS!!
I know I am.
And let's face facts... English 101, International Business and Finance, Calculus 102...
These are things you are never going to need.
When and how often will you actually use them?
Try... NEVER.
So here is the perfect solution for you...
My friends, I am starting my own university... ASU, Aikens Subterranean University. I got the idea from some old friends who once joked about starting their own school, but I am in deadly earnest.
At my school (soon to receive it's accreditation from the NEASC, aka New England Association of Schools and Colleges) you will learn everything you REALLY need to know... Things that they don't teach at other, inferior, schools of higher learning.
Here is my mission statement:
At ASU we strive to offer a superior curriculum which will give you the tools you need to be successful out there in the "real world." The knowledge you accumulate whilst matriculating in our hallowed hall (Aikens' basement--hence the Subterranean designation) will be of use to you no matter where you end up, or what you wind up doing once you get there. We offer a varied selection of courses all geared toward one goal: WORLD DOMINATION! (And all for a nominal fee, which makes us a good buy as well as a smart place to launch you on your path to success).
Course Offerings:
Pillaging 101--Whether you are on a small Caribbean island or in NYC, pillaging is a skill useful in any career path. Here you will learn the basics of intimidation, stealth and escape when it seems all hope is lost. Instructor: The Pirate Queen
Pillaging 102--Here you will learn more advanced pillaging skills, useful to more specific career paths such as: intellectual property law, corporate take-overs, middle management and internet piracy. Instructor: The Pirate Queen
World Domination 101--It doesn't matter if you are just starting out, or trying to overthrow the peaceful government of Lichtenstein, this course will give you all the basic tools you need to start whisper campaigns, bloody coups, and full-blown Sam Adams style revolutions. Not for the faint of heart. Instructor: The Pirate Queen
Piracy, The Path to Greatness 202--This basic course will provide you with the skills and expertise you need, not only to look the part of a great pirate but also to teach you the basics. Topics covered are: eye patches, parrot grooming and domestication, swearing, balancing on a peg leg, and managing a crew of 20+ scurvy knaves, all from the relative discomfort of our dank basement location. Instructor: The Pirate Queen
Revolutions, Hard and Soft 203--A more advanced course than World Domination, this seminar will delve into the specifics of fomenting revolution, starting from the work place and working our way up to the entire Eastern Seaboard. Controlling everyone and everything has never been this easy! Look out Wal-Mart and Microsoft--THE PIRATES ARE COMING!!! Instructor: The Pirate Queen
Leadership: Make Them Love AND Fear You 302--This course will cover the basics as well as advanced tactics for mental manipulation of underlings and foes alike. By the time you have finished this course, all those around you will be willing to die in your service if called upon to do so... After all, every pirate queen needs a loyal crew and frightened enemies. Instructor: The Pirate Queen
Mutiny: Sound Idea or Pathway to Death? 405--This seminar will not only include several hours of instruction, it will culminate with a simulated mutiny. Those who survive and avoid having to walk the plank or be left tied to the mizzenmast will graduate successfully, prepared to go out and conquer the world!
__________________________________________________________________
As you can see, the Aikens Subterranean University is the ONLY choice for those willing and able to conquer the world... It's a dirty job but someone has to do it!
Courses are commencing soon and tuition is negotiable (as is everything when you aspire to the Pirate Life).
Don't allow this golden opportunity to pass you by... There is gold in other people's pockets, and soon it will be yours!!!*
*The Aikens Subterranean University is not responsible for any acts of violence and piracy that its matriculating students may perform. If you get caught, we will deny all knowledge of your existance and your record of ever having been a student will be barbecued and eaten by the pygmy residents of a small island nation.
AHOY MATEYS!!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The Cool Kids Table
My friend the Papergrrl and I have a long running joke in which we constantly attempt to come up with the coolest ways to go out in a blaze of glory.
Why?
I'll tell you.
You see... I long ago realized, thanks to the tremendous load of guilt heaped on me by my Christian forebears (cult members, one and all) that if there is indeed such a place as hell... the chances are pretty good that I'm going to end up there.
Of course, I'm a Buddhist now... but that's a whole other kettle of Yorkshire Terriers.
Anyway, the point is... to make the idea of hell seem just a little less scary, we concocted the idea that, if there is such a place, surely it can't be all that different from high school. And let's face it, where, in high schools every day, does one see that most esteemed of all gatherings? You know the one I'm talking about, that group of kids who are just soooo much cooler than everyone else. The kids who never end up with milk coming out of their noses... The ones who laugh at geeks and nerds like me... The ones who seem to breeze through public education with a modicum of dignity...
Yeah, you've seen them too.
Admit it.
Anyway, my idea goes something like this... someday, I am going to die.
Yes, hard to believe, I know. Still, let's face facts.
Also, if there is indeed a hell... I'm far more likely to end up there than in the "good place."
My plan is this... if high school is hell, then why shouldn't hell be just like high school?
So I fully intend to die in some spectacularly cool fashion which will earn me the right to sit "at the cool kids table" in hell.
No car accident... no heart attack in bed at 67... no getting run over by a bus.
OH no my friends, this death...will be cool.
So far my favorites are: (drumroll please)
1. Getting mauled by a tiger.
2. Getting chomped on by a shark.
3. Going out in a blaze of glory while rescuing quadraplegic kittens from a burning rescue shelter.
4. Taking a bullet for someone (or some other sort of nasty flying projectile)
5. Being forced to walk the plank of my pirate ship after a mutinous uprising over shares of loot.
Yup. That's my plan. Don't knock it.
After all... if you die after me... don't you want to get to sit at the cool kids table with me?
That would be sweeeet.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Ahh...Life's Little Jokes...One of Which, ...is ME.
WARNING: I am posting this at 2:43am on Sunday morning. As you probably already know... It's been a rough summer. The worst of my life. Worse even than that time when I got bitten by that shark. Worse than when I ran out of peanut butter. Worse than CRAMPS.
Me.
Can you believe it?
I can't.
Ever.
And then today, as if the Universe hadn't made it clear enough that it despises me and thinks I deserve to die a horrible fiery death, after a long, painful wasting disease... I was blown off by two different friends who were supposed to meet me at different times and in different places. People who I thought would keep in touch with me. Even on AIM tonight, (see my post about how AIM is the DEVIL) the few people I wanted to talk to either blew me off, ignored me, or simply made it pretty clear that they had no interest in talking to me (you know...long pauses, cursory answers, not bothering to say goodbye...shit that I would normally allow to roll off me without hurting my feelings). It all finally caught up with me.
I actually cried.
Me.
Can you believe it?
I can't.
I am broken.
Please don't get me wrong, I don't want your damn pity. I'm sure your life is every bit as miserable in it's own way to you as mine is to me. So why would you bother reading more of this drivel?
Please don't.
What you are about to read is my form of a primal scream.
Think... Vanna.
Please, don't read any further and expose yourself to my misery.
Alright, fine...I realize I'm being all...Lemony Snicket about this... but I'm serious.There's nothing to see here people.
And besides the fact that this post is miserable... it's also embarrassing.
But what does it matter?
The point is...
Don't bother reading it.
But if you do... just have a little laugh at my expense. I mean, why not? Apparently my life, everything I stood for, everything I tried to do for 11 years meant nothing. It was a joke.
I am a joke.
And not a funny one.
I'm roughly the equivalent of the "why did the chicken cross the road?" school of humor. In other words, humor that doesn't deserve the moniker.
I'm just sayin'.
Turn back now. Here...there be dragons.
______________________________________________________________
You may have noticed that the Pirate Queen has not been prolific of late.
There are a number of reasons for that.
One in particular.
As a famous Jane Austen character once said to her sister (I am about to paraphrase, and poorly too, but the emotion is there)...
"What do you know of my heart? My suffering? For months I've had this thing pressing on me, not at liberty to speak of it to a single creature! ...Believe me, if I had wanted to, I could have produced evidence enough of a broken heart... Even for you."
The Pirate Queen is at a loss. Naturally, I will give you all the details...
You knew I would.
Eventually.
After all... I never could keep anything from you, could I?
I'm almost there. I'm almost ready to tell all about it. Not just now...but soon.
You see...
It hit me just an hour or so ago...
I was there...
on-line...
and I suddenly realized...
No one is talking to me.
Even the people I thought truly cared.
The couple that I attempted to reach out to, either barely responded or simply ignored me. Bear in mind, these were people who are important to me, and whom I consider friends.
That is not a good sign.
Ever.
And I finally got it.
I no longer exist.
I have been defeated.
Deleted.
And what is much, much worse... I am pathetic and depressing. I hate that.
I would be better off disappearing completely. Eventually I will. (As will we all...don't you know?)
That's not what I want to believe.
I want to believe the following:
...that I will fight another day.
...that the people I care about also care about me.
...that I will be happy again.
...that I made a difference to someone.
...that the fact that I cared about people wasn't a complete waste.
That's what I want to believe.
But I'm afraid it's not true.
If it were true... I really doubt that I'd be alone right now.
Someone would be here, wouldn't they?
And I ask myself...
Why am I always so easy to cast aside?
Why am I so forgettable?
Why am I so god damned REPLACEABLE?
I wish I were special.
Doesn't everyone?
See?
Pathetic. I hate what's happened.
But not as much as I hate myself for feeling like this.
For caring.
They never paid me to care. But I did.
How do I make myself stop?
I'm incredibly sorry for unloading like this. If you've read my other stuff, I hope you realize that I'm not usually like this...
But being brushed off, ignored and left alone, after everything that's happened...
I'm exhausted and my heart hurts.
The Queen is out.
Monday, June 30, 2008
My Spiritual Home...Room 106
Yeah, so I would like to point out that school has been officially over for over a week now.
With the exception of Friday and Saturday... I have been in school EVERY DAY.
Why?
Well... part of the time I was getting paid to be here ($375 for 15 hours BABY!) and part of the time I was getting crap done that was supposed to be done by the last day of school (Oopsie...guess I'm a little late with that... I'm such a bad example for the children...).
And today?
I'm finishing up some stuff for an on-line class.
Yeah, notice, I said ONLINE class. Meaning of course... I could be doing it from HOME.
Yet I'm not.
Instead... I'm here.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm actually not complaining. I think the true fact of the matter is... I like it here.
You see...if I'm at home...although I really love my house, I'm away from everyone. It's very secluded, which is great and all...but slightly depressing. If, on the other hand, I make the hike up to Tilton, there's always the chance that I might see people...
In fact...case in point... Just about an hour ago, someone (The Aviator) noticed me on line, called to find out if I were in town, bought muffins and then stopped in to hang out for a while (and incidentally he fixed the stereo in my room).
You see?
This is why I keep coming here.
Because dammit... I miss you people during the summer... How sick is that?
Clearly I have issues.
...and I'm not much good at not doing anything...
And also, I can not afford real road trips, thanks to the cost of gas.
Have I mentioned that I also have three jobs, yet again, this summer? w00t w00t.
Yet...
I'm still broke...
I don't get it.
Peace out.
And oh yeah, feel free to stop by... I'll open the side door for ya. LOL
With the exception of Friday and Saturday... I have been in school EVERY DAY.
Why?
Well... part of the time I was getting paid to be here ($375 for 15 hours BABY!) and part of the time I was getting crap done that was supposed to be done by the last day of school (Oopsie...guess I'm a little late with that... I'm such a bad example for the children...).
And today?
I'm finishing up some stuff for an on-line class.
Yeah, notice, I said ONLINE class. Meaning of course... I could be doing it from HOME.
Yet I'm not.
Instead... I'm here.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm actually not complaining. I think the true fact of the matter is... I like it here.
You see...if I'm at home...although I really love my house, I'm away from everyone. It's very secluded, which is great and all...but slightly depressing. If, on the other hand, I make the hike up to Tilton, there's always the chance that I might see people...
In fact...case in point... Just about an hour ago, someone (The Aviator) noticed me on line, called to find out if I were in town, bought muffins and then stopped in to hang out for a while (and incidentally he fixed the stereo in my room).
You see?
This is why I keep coming here.
Because dammit... I miss you people during the summer... How sick is that?
Clearly I have issues.
...and I'm not much good at not doing anything...
And also, I can not afford real road trips, thanks to the cost of gas.
Have I mentioned that I also have three jobs, yet again, this summer? w00t w00t.
Yet...
I'm still broke...
I don't get it.
Peace out.
And oh yeah, feel free to stop by... I'll open the side door for ya. LOL
Sunday, June 29, 2008
A Bedtime Story
Have you ever fallen asleep on a couch?
Yeah, dumb question...of course you have. We all have at some point.
So the real question is, have you ever fallen asleep on a couch and woken up in so much pain that you quite literally had to throw yourself on the floor in order to get off?
Seriously, it was like attempted suicide...only in a very small way...
So on to the bedtime story...
But it's not what you think. This is no pink, happy tale of hopping bunnies and fuzzy puppies... This is a bedtime story with EDGE.
Just warning you...
Okay...here goes nothin'.
Once upon a time there was a person living in a house in the woods. The house was somewhat small, somewhat cozy, and highly secluded.
Mostly, this was a good thing.
Where it went horribly awry was the night of the moth.
I know, I know...you don't believe it... but it's true.
Last night, as I was about to pass out (much earlier than I expected, I might add), I heard a sound of loud bumping against the sliding glass doors of my bedroom. Thinking that Poe probably wanted to come in from off my balcony and curl up on the bed, I set my laptop down on my pillow and crawled out of bed myself to open the door...
That's when I got the biggest shock of my recent life.
There was a moth banging on the window.
I am not exaggerating here people.
IT WAS BANGING.
And it could actually do so, because it had a wingspan of somewhere between four and five inches at its widest point.
I COULD SEE ITS EYES.
It was staring at me.
Of course, I could have just turned off the light, and it might've gone away... unfortunately, I would no longer be able to see it as it attempted to drill a hole through my wall and get in my bedroom to suck my brain out through my nose.
So I went downstairs and slept on the couch.
The end.
To conclude...
My couch FUCKING sucks... Please remind me NEVER to sleep on it again. It's fine for lounging...but sleeping for longer than a 20 min nap?
No thank you.
That is all.
Over and out.
Yeah, dumb question...of course you have. We all have at some point.
So the real question is, have you ever fallen asleep on a couch and woken up in so much pain that you quite literally had to throw yourself on the floor in order to get off?
Seriously, it was like attempted suicide...only in a very small way...
So on to the bedtime story...
But it's not what you think. This is no pink, happy tale of hopping bunnies and fuzzy puppies... This is a bedtime story with EDGE.
Just warning you...
Okay...here goes nothin'.
Once upon a time there was a person living in a house in the woods. The house was somewhat small, somewhat cozy, and highly secluded.
Mostly, this was a good thing.
Where it went horribly awry was the night of the moth.
I know, I know...you don't believe it... but it's true.
Last night, as I was about to pass out (much earlier than I expected, I might add), I heard a sound of loud bumping against the sliding glass doors of my bedroom. Thinking that Poe probably wanted to come in from off my balcony and curl up on the bed, I set my laptop down on my pillow and crawled out of bed myself to open the door...
That's when I got the biggest shock of my recent life.
There was a moth banging on the window.
I am not exaggerating here people.
IT WAS BANGING.
And it could actually do so, because it had a wingspan of somewhere between four and five inches at its widest point.
I COULD SEE ITS EYES.
It was staring at me.
Of course, I could have just turned off the light, and it might've gone away... unfortunately, I would no longer be able to see it as it attempted to drill a hole through my wall and get in my bedroom to suck my brain out through my nose.
So I went downstairs and slept on the couch.
The end.
To conclude...
My couch FUCKING sucks... Please remind me NEVER to sleep on it again. It's fine for lounging...but sleeping for longer than a 20 min nap?
No thank you.
That is all.
Over and out.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Let Me Tell You a Story...
Hey buddy.
It's been a long time since we traveled this road together...
I missed you.
So come on, cop a squat and listen while I tell you about this one time when I was hanging out in a bar in South Boston with a guy named Jericho.
You see, Jericho was a rabid Irishman.
By which I naturally mean that he had green beer instead of blood in his veins, he had a shamrock tattooed over his heart and no day was complete unless he had a chance to beat the hell out of someone for a imagined insult to his "homeland."
You see, I put "homeland" in quotes because Jericho had never set so much as his pinky toe on the soil of Ireland.
In fact, I think he was from Hoboken.
But that's beside the point.
When I met him, he was drunk... as per usual.
He was also singing... again, as per usual.
I however, was not drunk. Nor did I plan to be.
I had stumbled into the dank and musty tavern intending merely to use the no doubt spotless facilities and then race back out to the GB, when he spotted me in the crowd, jumped off the stage where he'd been leading the other bar patrons in singing a rather raucous tune, and grabbed me by the arm. He insisted that I come up on stage and do a jig with him.
Since I was already jigging from the need to empty my bladder, I figured, 'what could it hurt?'
And I did it.
Thus, an instant bond was forged.
I discovered that Jericho, while incredibly spontaneous and fun, was also most definitely NOT in his right mind... Hell, he wasn't even in his LEFT mind.
Sanity had seen him coming... and made a break for points North.
So that's how I ended up making 300 bucks in tips from the patrons.
Amazing what a good jig will get you in South Boston.
I'd tell you more about the amazing adventures of Jericho and the Pirate Queen...
But then I'd have to kill you.
Until later my friend... I'll see you around.
Peace.
It's been a long time since we traveled this road together...
I missed you.
So come on, cop a squat and listen while I tell you about this one time when I was hanging out in a bar in South Boston with a guy named Jericho.
You see, Jericho was a rabid Irishman.
By which I naturally mean that he had green beer instead of blood in his veins, he had a shamrock tattooed over his heart and no day was complete unless he had a chance to beat the hell out of someone for a imagined insult to his "homeland."
You see, I put "homeland" in quotes because Jericho had never set so much as his pinky toe on the soil of Ireland.
In fact, I think he was from Hoboken.
But that's beside the point.
When I met him, he was drunk... as per usual.
He was also singing... again, as per usual.
I however, was not drunk. Nor did I plan to be.
I had stumbled into the dank and musty tavern intending merely to use the no doubt spotless facilities and then race back out to the GB, when he spotted me in the crowd, jumped off the stage where he'd been leading the other bar patrons in singing a rather raucous tune, and grabbed me by the arm. He insisted that I come up on stage and do a jig with him.
Since I was already jigging from the need to empty my bladder, I figured, 'what could it hurt?'
And I did it.
Thus, an instant bond was forged.
I discovered that Jericho, while incredibly spontaneous and fun, was also most definitely NOT in his right mind... Hell, he wasn't even in his LEFT mind.
Sanity had seen him coming... and made a break for points North.
So that's how I ended up making 300 bucks in tips from the patrons.
Amazing what a good jig will get you in South Boston.
I'd tell you more about the amazing adventures of Jericho and the Pirate Queen...
But then I'd have to kill you.
Until later my friend... I'll see you around.
Peace.
Too Smart for My Own Damn Good
I don't know about you but when I was little my mother used to tell me...
"Be careful what you go looking for...You might find it."
For most of my pirate life, I have found this to be true... Painfully true. Mostly because, in addition to being a kick-ass pirate queen, I am also incredibly goddamn nosey. I mean, the last time I stuck my nose in where it wasn't wanted, I ended up in the back seat of a '65 Buick, suspended from an overhead crane with my arms and legs bound with electrician's tape. I mean, sure... I escaped, but even still...
You think I would've learned my lesson and stopped my never ending quest for information that won't do anything but hurt and upset me... But if you think that... You just don't know who you're dealing with.
I thrive on emotional pain.
It's a gift... and a curse.
Plus, the truth is, my powers of research have left me with a great many sources... (I do teach journalism remember). Basically, if you need to get information on something, I am a pretty good source. If I don't know how to find something out...I know someone else who does know.
I am quite literally too damn smart for my own good.
Now here's where the problem comes in...
I sometimes find myself backed into a corner... I don't necessarily WANT to know things... But I find myself irresistibly attracted to information. Most of the time, this is just harmless fun... but there are other times when it comes back to bite me in the ass.
Do you see how this sort of thing can go horribly, horribly awry?
Then of course, there is the other problem...
People are always telling me things that I don't want to hear. Things for which I have absolutely no answer or response beyond..."Uhh..."
Yet, I am drawn in. And of course, though some people might find it difficult to believe... I can keep a secret. Maybe better than anyone else you know. Yes, I talk...but when it comes down to the important stuff,
Information goes in... but it doesn't come out.
If you've noticed that this posting is more than unusually vague... Make of it what you will. It's been a long FUCKING two weeks.
I have been exhausted.
I have been used.
I have been elated.
I have been appreciated.
I have been blown off.
I have been cheered up.
I have been ignored.
I have been admired.
I have been crushed.
Basically, it's been a freaking emotional rollercoaster...and pardon the language but I have to say,
I'm fucking DONE for the day.
"Be careful what you go looking for...You might find it."
For most of my pirate life, I have found this to be true... Painfully true. Mostly because, in addition to being a kick-ass pirate queen, I am also incredibly goddamn nosey. I mean, the last time I stuck my nose in where it wasn't wanted, I ended up in the back seat of a '65 Buick, suspended from an overhead crane with my arms and legs bound with electrician's tape. I mean, sure... I escaped, but even still...
You think I would've learned my lesson and stopped my never ending quest for information that won't do anything but hurt and upset me... But if you think that... You just don't know who you're dealing with.
I thrive on emotional pain.
It's a gift... and a curse.
Plus, the truth is, my powers of research have left me with a great many sources... (I do teach journalism remember). Basically, if you need to get information on something, I am a pretty good source. If I don't know how to find something out...I know someone else who does know.
I am quite literally too damn smart for my own good.
Now here's where the problem comes in...
I sometimes find myself backed into a corner... I don't necessarily WANT to know things... But I find myself irresistibly attracted to information. Most of the time, this is just harmless fun... but there are other times when it comes back to bite me in the ass.
Do you see how this sort of thing can go horribly, horribly awry?
Then of course, there is the other problem...
People are always telling me things that I don't want to hear. Things for which I have absolutely no answer or response beyond..."Uhh..."
Yet, I am drawn in. And of course, though some people might find it difficult to believe... I can keep a secret. Maybe better than anyone else you know. Yes, I talk...but when it comes down to the important stuff,
Information goes in... but it doesn't come out.
If you've noticed that this posting is more than unusually vague... Make of it what you will. It's been a long FUCKING two weeks.
I have been exhausted.
I have been used.
I have been elated.
I have been appreciated.
I have been blown off.
I have been cheered up.
I have been ignored.
I have been admired.
I have been crushed.
Basically, it's been a freaking emotional rollercoaster...and pardon the language but I have to say,
I'm fucking DONE for the day.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Yeah, I Know...
I've been AWOL a long time now. In fact, this is the longest I've gone without writing in over 8 months...I just couldn't help it.
Things around the Saltmine have been crazy and when I don't get home at a ridiculous hour, I simply crash.
There's also the fact that I was avoiding the whole SPEECH thing.
Well, I finally wrote it, for better or for worse. Personally, I'm afraid it's worse. I'm going to be delivering it this afternoon.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Things around the Saltmine have been crazy and when I don't get home at a ridiculous hour, I simply crash.
There's also the fact that I was avoiding the whole SPEECH thing.
Well, I finally wrote it, for better or for worse. Personally, I'm afraid it's worse. I'm going to be delivering it this afternoon.
I'll let you know how it goes.
For those of you who won't be in attendance... Here it is in case you feel like being totally bored for a while (Yeah, I wanted to make it funny, but thanks to some trouble a few years back, not only did I have to get it approved by the powers that be, but there was also a moratorium on FUNNY).
So here it is...
____________________________________________________________
So here it is...
____________________________________________________________
Students, friends, family members, community members school board members and esteemed faculty, thank you for attending the commencement exercises today for the class of 2008…
Wassup?
Calm down… please.
When I was first approached by the Director of this year’s graduating class, Mr. R, and asked to speak here today, my first feeling was one of humility…closely followed by complete shock...
I wonder if that’s what a doe feels like when staring into headlights…
But honestly…
When I was at last able to summon a coherent thought, I stammered out something profound…something meaningful…it went something like this…
“What were they THINKING?”
Of course, Mr. R kindly told me I could take a while to think about it… But there was nothing to think about. There was no question in my mind. I said yes before the request had barely left his lips...
Naturally…the second thought I had after saying yes was…
“What am I thinking?”
Then I took a few deep breaths, stilled my shaking knees and soon enough my ADD kicked in when something shiny caught my eye…so I was okay for a little while…
Umm…just kidding…sort of.
Now what was my point? Oh yeah…I agreed to speak here today.
Of course, the next step in my quest was to craft what I hoped would be an acceptable, respectful and with any luck at all, entertaining speech…Naturally, I went to that bottomless fountain of useful knowledge…GOOGLE.
Unfortunately, after I got done watching YouTube, playing World of Warcraft, and instant messaging everyone I had ever met, I found that I had nearly lost the will to live… But still, I persevered and dove headfirst in to my research… exhausting the possibilities of several search engines.
The results left me skeptical at best...
What I discovered was that most speakers at commencement exercises spend their time sharing advice and words of wisdom…craftily imparting valuable life lessons and witty stories, attempting to share with their captive audience a glowing picture of what the future may one day be like…
I have to be honest… That sort of thing is not for me.
After all our time spent together, I believe that the time for me to advise you has passed…
So instead, I’d like to share something else, something those other speeches don’t seem to spend enough time on in my opinion…
I’d like to tell you what you’ve taught me.
After all… I think these lovely people who’ve come here to see you deserve to know the truth…Don’t you agree?
And… I’ll tell you why…
Because this day is all about you, class of 2008. You asked me to be here and share this day with you…How could I ever say no?
Saying no was not a viable option.
After all…as you know… *stage whisper*…You’re my favorite.
So…here it is honored guests… the real reason why I could never turn down such a tremendous honor…
The people you see here, wearing those caps and gowns… They may look like just another group of soon to be former students… But really, they are more than just that…
They are heroes.
Seriously.
I know, I know…you think you know what I’m saying here… but there are some things you may not know about these students. Personally, I’ve been privy to this information for about 4 years now…In fact, there are young people in those chairs over there who have had the dubious honor of having me as a teacher for most of their high school careers… Scary thought, isn’t it?
But true.
So here’s what I’ve learned from you class of 2008…
There really are heroes in this world.
Of course, this means you.
For years you’ve struggled against enormous odds, given of yourselves, worked your tails off and continued to show up to school… even when the thought of facing yet another test made you want to curl up in a ball…
You’ve been athletic champions… as Montanna said, your team unity has shown in your performance at the local, state and regional level…
You’ve been in the spotlight…the incredible performance you gave as actors in the musical Little Shop of Horrors will no doubt become the stuff of legend…
You’ve been across the globe…some of you have seen a wider world…and know how small that world really is… Nick, Kathrine, Kristy…”We’ll always have
You’ve been on television…
You’ve been conducting Transcendentalist meditations…
You’ve been working nights and weekends…
You’ve been pirates of the best kind…Like Robin hood…champions of the under dog
You’ve been trekking off to
You’ve been making our school a better place for everyone else…
Heck, some of you have even been nursing sick plants and performing surgery on trees… (The FFA may have changed the meaning of their acronym…but it still spells “Cult” to me…I don’t care WHAT
Uhhh…just kidding…don’t stop planting flowers in front of my room please, you do great work)
You’ve been committing yourselves to serve your country…
You’ve been serving your school and your community…I can’t count the number of times the Student Council has come to our rescue as a school, designing clever games and team building activities to enrich our days here… Thank you Robert, Kier…etc.
Many of you have even taken several college courses… While still in our building!
And most of all…you’ve never given up. That’s why you’re here today, proud…and of course…squirming in your seats…wondering if I’ll ever stop so you can get your diploma and make a break for it with your family…
Dang.
I wish I could do all that. Generally, all I do is drink a Red Bull, drive to work, and then pass the buck to you… See? You’re the ones who deserve all the credit and all the reward…
In fact, if I ever grow up… I want to be just like you, class of 2008…
Would that be alright?
And please don’t ever forget this:
Everything I know about real heroes…I’ve learned from you.
So, once again, thank you for allowing me to share this wonderful day with you…and pardon any omissions, offenses or faults on my part… As Puck said in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,”
“If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream…”
I’ve done my best … And in the end, all I really wanted to do was to honor your request, and hopefully make you laugh a little.
Plus, I wanted you to see yourselves as I see you…
As Heroes.
This world is a better place with you in it. Don’t be afraid… you’ll be great.
Now go out and prove me right.
Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in a round of applause for these heroes… The graduating class of 2008.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Friendship and Cookies
Okay, so here's the deal... I don't bake anymore.
I am a Pirate Queen and as such, I am far too busy kicking ninja ass to put on an apron and pre-heat an oven to 350.
However, I used to love to cook.
Sometimes, I even miss it.
And sometimes there are people who I find to be particularly special, who move me.
Then, I work in mysterious ways my wonders to perform.
I've actually baked cookies twice in the past week...
Somebody must be pretty special... That's all I'm sayin'.
I am a Pirate Queen and as such, I am far too busy kicking ninja ass to put on an apron and pre-heat an oven to 350.
However, I used to love to cook.
Sometimes, I even miss it.
And sometimes there are people who I find to be particularly special, who move me.
Then, I work in mysterious ways my wonders to perform.
I've actually baked cookies twice in the past week...
Somebody must be pretty special... That's all I'm sayin'.
Monday, May 26, 2008
And Speaking of Crazy...
Runners are freaks.
No, really.
I mean, my personal belief has always been that the only time one should run is when being chased either by the cops or by some large, hairy animal with sharp teeth (I'm referring to Rednecks of course).
Yet somehow, through no fault of my own (I blame DanskoGirl76) I have become one of them.
In fact, about three hours ago I set off on an adventure which will most likely live on in infamy (at least as far as my hips are concerned...
It started innocently enough...It was just going to be a short jog through the outlying environs of Smallborotonville... Yet somehow it turned into a jog of epic proportions...
I "ran" 6 miles in about an hour and a half.
I place "ran" in quotation marks because I'm fairly sure that no objective observer would call what I did Running. (Seriously, at times I was certain that any self respecting blind person with a really good seeing eye dog could have walked the equivalent distance in about half the time).
It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't all UPHILL.
I swear to Carlos...Smallborotonville has more curves and hills than Scarlett Johansen.
I'm just sayin'.
Really, the only question now is, how long is it going to take before I start walking like a little old woman in need of a walker?
No, really.
I mean, my personal belief has always been that the only time one should run is when being chased either by the cops or by some large, hairy animal with sharp teeth (I'm referring to Rednecks of course).
Yet somehow, through no fault of my own (I blame DanskoGirl76) I have become one of them.
In fact, about three hours ago I set off on an adventure which will most likely live on in infamy (at least as far as my hips are concerned...
It started innocently enough...It was just going to be a short jog through the outlying environs of Smallborotonville... Yet somehow it turned into a jog of epic proportions...
I "ran" 6 miles in about an hour and a half.
I place "ran" in quotation marks because I'm fairly sure that no objective observer would call what I did Running. (Seriously, at times I was certain that any self respecting blind person with a really good seeing eye dog could have walked the equivalent distance in about half the time).
It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't all UPHILL.
I swear to Carlos...Smallborotonville has more curves and hills than Scarlett Johansen.
I'm just sayin'.
Really, the only question now is, how long is it going to take before I start walking like a little old woman in need of a walker?
Sunday, May 25, 2008
I'm Never Gonna Survive...Unless I Get a Little Bit Crazy
Do you know when the best time is to have an adventure?
I do.
9:42am on a Sunday.
Preferably the Sunday of a long weekend...
After all, that way you still have time to recover from the bruises and abrasions before you go back to work on Tuesday...
So let's face facts. I've been huddled in the Batcave for far too long and it was time for an adventure.
The minute I woke up (4:15am to be precise) I knew that it was time to head out in my never ending search for trouble... Wait, make that Trouble.
Done and done.
I set out to start the day off with a Red Bull and a scrumptious breakfast at a local pirate establishment. With those necessities out of the way, I could safely be about my business...
WORLD DOMINATION, that is.
I began my sojourn innocently enough by buying some cheap hair dye and a shovel.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
You see, the snow shovel was just sitting by the door of Rite-Aid, looking so sad and forlorn that I just felt bad for it.
I mean...who buys a snow shovel in May? In New England?
I'll tell you who... NO ONE. Well, no one except me...
The hair dye was a spur of the moment purchase which I hoped that I would live to regret...
And regret it I did.
After digging that grave, I was far too tired to dye my hair... That's all I'm sayin'.
You see... I wasn't intending to steal a corpse originally... but he, much like the shovel, seemed very lonely all by himself on that park bench... And having experienced a bit of loneliness myself the past few years, I just couldn't bring myself to leave him like that.
So that's how I ended up, at 9:42 on a Sunday, driving into the White Mountains to bury a guy I didn't know with a snow shovel.
As for the dye... I'll let you know how it turns out.
I do.
9:42am on a Sunday.
Preferably the Sunday of a long weekend...
After all, that way you still have time to recover from the bruises and abrasions before you go back to work on Tuesday...
So let's face facts. I've been huddled in the Batcave for far too long and it was time for an adventure.
The minute I woke up (4:15am to be precise) I knew that it was time to head out in my never ending search for trouble... Wait, make that Trouble.
Done and done.
I set out to start the day off with a Red Bull and a scrumptious breakfast at a local pirate establishment. With those necessities out of the way, I could safely be about my business...
WORLD DOMINATION, that is.
I began my sojourn innocently enough by buying some cheap hair dye and a shovel.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
You see, the snow shovel was just sitting by the door of Rite-Aid, looking so sad and forlorn that I just felt bad for it.
I mean...who buys a snow shovel in May? In New England?
I'll tell you who... NO ONE. Well, no one except me...
The hair dye was a spur of the moment purchase which I hoped that I would live to regret...
And regret it I did.
After digging that grave, I was far too tired to dye my hair... That's all I'm sayin'.
You see... I wasn't intending to steal a corpse originally... but he, much like the shovel, seemed very lonely all by himself on that park bench... And having experienced a bit of loneliness myself the past few years, I just couldn't bring myself to leave him like that.
So that's how I ended up, at 9:42 on a Sunday, driving into the White Mountains to bury a guy I didn't know with a snow shovel.
As for the dye... I'll let you know how it turns out.
Adventures in Grooming
Well... The Pirate Queen chopped her hair off today.
It was about time for me to stumble into the bathroom, look at my reflection, shudder, and start clipping away.
So I did it.
When I was done, you could've made an Aikens voodoo doll out of what was lying on the floor of the bathroom.
Damn. I have too much hair.
Seriously.
If anyone ever decided to kill me by dropping me off a tall building, I'd drift to the ground like a dandelion gone to seed and land harmlessly on my spiky pirate shoes with nary a scratch.
I suppose I should be grateful...
It was about time for me to stumble into the bathroom, look at my reflection, shudder, and start clipping away.
So I did it.
When I was done, you could've made an Aikens voodoo doll out of what was lying on the floor of the bathroom.
Damn. I have too much hair.
Seriously.
If anyone ever decided to kill me by dropping me off a tall building, I'd drift to the ground like a dandelion gone to seed and land harmlessly on my spiky pirate shoes with nary a scratch.
I suppose I should be grateful...
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Random Thoughts and Windless Nights
"The wise man said just walk this way
To the dawn of the light
The wind will blow into your face
As the years pass you by..."
I was roller blading through the dark with these words floating through my head...
"Hear this voice from deep inside
It's the call of your heart
Close your eyes and you will find
The passage out of the dark..."
The darkness was all around, pressing on me like a gloved hand. It was around me like a blanket. It was around me and inside me, freeing and holding me back...
Where are the heroes now?
It's just me.
Like I planned this all along...
Like this is how it was always meant to be...
I can see the future stretching out in front of me like a dark road on a windless night.
Will there ever be a bend in the road?
Or will things go on this way forever?
I'm not sure... but I know something has got to give... eventually...
"Here I am (here I am)
Will you send me an angel?
Here I am (here I am)
In the land of the morning star..."
All I can say for sure is...
There are no stars tonight my friend...
To the dawn of the light
The wind will blow into your face
As the years pass you by..."
I was roller blading through the dark with these words floating through my head...
"Hear this voice from deep inside
It's the call of your heart
Close your eyes and you will find
The passage out of the dark..."
The darkness was all around, pressing on me like a gloved hand. It was around me like a blanket. It was around me and inside me, freeing and holding me back...
Where are the heroes now?
It's just me.
Like I planned this all along...
Like this is how it was always meant to be...
I can see the future stretching out in front of me like a dark road on a windless night.
Will there ever be a bend in the road?
Or will things go on this way forever?
I'm not sure... but I know something has got to give... eventually...
"Here I am (here I am)
Will you send me an angel?
Here I am (here I am)
In the land of the morning star..."
All I can say for sure is...
There are no stars tonight my friend...
Friday, May 23, 2008
The Importance of Being First...
I have always believed that secretly every person has a list.
The list is never written down anywhere and it changes day by day, week by week... Sometimes even hour by hour.
It is a list you carry in your mind/heart of all the people who are truly important to you.
Or is it just me?
I freely admit that I have such a list. It is long, somewhat like my memory. Anyone who knows me well can tell you that I remember details... Things most people forget.
Of course, being socially retarded, I frequently find that my list of who is important to me causes me pain.
Pain is caused by unfullfilled wants.
You see, I always make the rookie mistake of assuming that simply because someone is important to me, that the reverse is also true and I must be important to them.
Yes, I know... I am a silly silly girl.
I think that this same thing is probably true of everyone to a greater or lesser degree... At least, I certainly hope so...
And that's all I have to say about that.
The list is never written down anywhere and it changes day by day, week by week... Sometimes even hour by hour.
It is a list you carry in your mind/heart of all the people who are truly important to you.
Or is it just me?
I freely admit that I have such a list. It is long, somewhat like my memory. Anyone who knows me well can tell you that I remember details... Things most people forget.
Of course, being socially retarded, I frequently find that my list of who is important to me causes me pain.
Pain is caused by unfullfilled wants.
You see, I always make the rookie mistake of assuming that simply because someone is important to me, that the reverse is also true and I must be important to them.
Yes, I know... I am a silly silly girl.
I think that this same thing is probably true of everyone to a greater or lesser degree... At least, I certainly hope so...
And that's all I have to say about that.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
And Now, After a Long Hiatus...
...We retreated back into the woods to regroup...
When last I left our Superhero tale, Shaggy, The Aviator, Lizzard and I were in the woods of Canterbury, contemplating our next move. The others were trapped inside a burning church, surrounded by an acre or so of enemies...both of the cultmember variety and ninja persuasion.
After a moment of discussion, the Aviator and Lizzard rushed back through the woods to get our vehicle and make a fly by, hoping that we could possibly just swoop down out of the sky and load our friends on board...
Shaggy, however, was not satisfied with this plan... He had every intention of taking as many evil-doers as possible down...
I intended to assist in his plan.
As bait.
The minute Lizzard and the Aviator were headed back through the woods and out of earshot, I took off running back to the church. I burst through the tree-line and into a group of Cultmembers, shouting and waving my arms, demanding that they surrender before I did something... really... bad...
They stopped what they were doing. Momentarily they recoiled and a few of them even took a step backward.
Then they realized that I was alone... and they laughed.
As they rushed me, en masse, I took a moment to revel in their stupidity...
It was then that Shaggy burst through the woods behind me and began shooting.
I put my head down, closed my eyes and rushed forward, fully prepared to take out anyone who stood in my way, with nothing for protection but my extreme solar flare-do (my hair can withstand nearly any assault by man or beast).
Luckily, this was unnecessary... within moments an entire group of the villains had been incapacitated with shots of bone from Shaggy's fists... not to mention a succession of quick kicks to the head (the taller members of the group had been so distracted by my seemingly suicidal rush that they had completely failed to make any attempt to dodge my quick friend).
I felt a flush of joy and endorphins... Any fear I had that we might not kick ass and save the day was now completely gone and I reached my hand out and jumped in the air for a quick "super" high-five before rushing forward, closer to the church itself...
The question now was... How would we get inside to save our friends?
The answer was obvious, thanks to an enormous ladder leaning against the side of the burning structure.
Unfortunately, the ladder and the side of the old church, were hot to the touch. The second my skin met the metal of the climbing device, I felt a sizzle and drew my hand back with a yelp of pain...
What to do?
And then I felt it... The charm around my neck began to grow cold... Reaching up, I touched it.
As per usual... at this point, something strange began to happen...
I looked up, searching the vicinity to see what Shaggy was doing and also looking for villains in my immediate area... There were none yet.
Shaggy however, seemed to have increased in size... and he was looking at me very strangely...
I wanted to ask why he was staring at me, when the ground began to rush toward me.
And then I began to comprehend... The ground wasn't rushing at me... I was rushing toward it...
I was shrinking.
As soon as I took my hand away from the charm, I ceased to become any smaller...
(And it was a good thing too...I really can't afford to get any shorter...)
I rocked a little on my heels and looked down...I was only about two feet tall now. I hadn't just gotten shorter, I was actually like... a mini-me...
After the look of shock left his face, Shaggy actually began laughing so hard, I thought he might fall out of the sky himself...
And then another band of ninjas came rushing around the corner of the burning edifice...
Luckily, laughter hadn't dulled my friend's sense of fury over his own suffering, or that of our friends, and he barrelled forward, a furious torpedo of flying bone splinters, fists and feet. As he dove through the air and directly into the chest of the largest ninja, the air seemed to crackle around him, sending the hapless ninjas flying. In no time at all, there was a pile of them with Shaggy hovering in the air above their bodies, cracking his knuckles and smiling a devious smile.
Before I had time to say anything (or do anything for that matter), he bounded through the air back toward me, said, "Uhh... I think we can rescue those feebs sometime today, don't you?"
Reaching down, he grabbed me by my upper arm and took off up the side of the church.
As I was hoisted unceremoniously into the stratosphere by my friend, I could only think one thing...
'HOLY SHIT, WHERE'S THE OFF BUTTON?"
I must have been so shocked that I actually screeched a little, because Shaggy laughed again and then said, "No balls! I bet you wouldn't trust me to drop you through that hole in the belfrey roof to Seymour and Boe..."
Closing my eyes against the sight of the church, which seemed to be growing smaller and farther away the higher we got, I mumbled a quiet 'Holy Mother of Carlos' to myself and then yelled,
"Yeah yeah, I trust you... Just do it!"
The next thing I knew, I was rocketing downward, back toward the church, falling through space toward a hole in the roof... Screaming in my head all the way...
...What a rush!
When last I left our Superhero tale, Shaggy, The Aviator, Lizzard and I were in the woods of Canterbury, contemplating our next move. The others were trapped inside a burning church, surrounded by an acre or so of enemies...both of the cultmember variety and ninja persuasion.
After a moment of discussion, the Aviator and Lizzard rushed back through the woods to get our vehicle and make a fly by, hoping that we could possibly just swoop down out of the sky and load our friends on board...
Shaggy, however, was not satisfied with this plan... He had every intention of taking as many evil-doers as possible down...
I intended to assist in his plan.
As bait.
The minute Lizzard and the Aviator were headed back through the woods and out of earshot, I took off running back to the church. I burst through the tree-line and into a group of Cultmembers, shouting and waving my arms, demanding that they surrender before I did something... really... bad...
They stopped what they were doing. Momentarily they recoiled and a few of them even took a step backward.
Then they realized that I was alone... and they laughed.
As they rushed me, en masse, I took a moment to revel in their stupidity...
It was then that Shaggy burst through the woods behind me and began shooting.
I put my head down, closed my eyes and rushed forward, fully prepared to take out anyone who stood in my way, with nothing for protection but my extreme solar flare-do (my hair can withstand nearly any assault by man or beast).
Luckily, this was unnecessary... within moments an entire group of the villains had been incapacitated with shots of bone from Shaggy's fists... not to mention a succession of quick kicks to the head (the taller members of the group had been so distracted by my seemingly suicidal rush that they had completely failed to make any attempt to dodge my quick friend).
I felt a flush of joy and endorphins... Any fear I had that we might not kick ass and save the day was now completely gone and I reached my hand out and jumped in the air for a quick "super" high-five before rushing forward, closer to the church itself...
The question now was... How would we get inside to save our friends?
The answer was obvious, thanks to an enormous ladder leaning against the side of the burning structure.
Unfortunately, the ladder and the side of the old church, were hot to the touch. The second my skin met the metal of the climbing device, I felt a sizzle and drew my hand back with a yelp of pain...
What to do?
And then I felt it... The charm around my neck began to grow cold... Reaching up, I touched it.
As per usual... at this point, something strange began to happen...
I looked up, searching the vicinity to see what Shaggy was doing and also looking for villains in my immediate area... There were none yet.
Shaggy however, seemed to have increased in size... and he was looking at me very strangely...
I wanted to ask why he was staring at me, when the ground began to rush toward me.
And then I began to comprehend... The ground wasn't rushing at me... I was rushing toward it...
I was shrinking.
As soon as I took my hand away from the charm, I ceased to become any smaller...
(And it was a good thing too...I really can't afford to get any shorter...)
I rocked a little on my heels and looked down...I was only about two feet tall now. I hadn't just gotten shorter, I was actually like... a mini-me...
After the look of shock left his face, Shaggy actually began laughing so hard, I thought he might fall out of the sky himself...
And then another band of ninjas came rushing around the corner of the burning edifice...
Luckily, laughter hadn't dulled my friend's sense of fury over his own suffering, or that of our friends, and he barrelled forward, a furious torpedo of flying bone splinters, fists and feet. As he dove through the air and directly into the chest of the largest ninja, the air seemed to crackle around him, sending the hapless ninjas flying. In no time at all, there was a pile of them with Shaggy hovering in the air above their bodies, cracking his knuckles and smiling a devious smile.
Before I had time to say anything (or do anything for that matter), he bounded through the air back toward me, said, "Uhh... I think we can rescue those feebs sometime today, don't you?"
Reaching down, he grabbed me by my upper arm and took off up the side of the church.
As I was hoisted unceremoniously into the stratosphere by my friend, I could only think one thing...
'HOLY SHIT, WHERE'S THE OFF BUTTON?"
I must have been so shocked that I actually screeched a little, because Shaggy laughed again and then said, "No balls! I bet you wouldn't trust me to drop you through that hole in the belfrey roof to Seymour and Boe..."
Closing my eyes against the sight of the church, which seemed to be growing smaller and farther away the higher we got, I mumbled a quiet 'Holy Mother of Carlos' to myself and then yelled,
"Yeah yeah, I trust you... Just do it!"
The next thing I knew, I was rocketing downward, back toward the church, falling through space toward a hole in the roof... Screaming in my head all the way...
...What a rush!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
"Go Home and Polish Your Twig!"
Earlier today I was headed to my usual Pirate locale for the last part of the day and unobtrusively clip-clopping my way down the Saltmine hall in my spiky pirate shoes when I was suddenly and without any warning at all, nearly knocked flat on my cute little pirate heiny by a large, ugly and somewhat angry inmate.
This particular inmate has been a problem for a long time.
He glowered at me from beneath his protruding brow and shoved me out of what he clearly considered to be his own personal space with nary a word of apology, though, just as clearly, I had done absolutely nothing to deserve this rough treatment.
I was dumb-founded...Shocked.
Without even a backward glance he proceeded down the hall, making a thump-clop sound. One foot was clad in a large boot of the shit-kicking variety and the other was absent (he has a wooden leg).
Loathe as I was to allow such treatment to pass without a word or even a sour look, the fact that this particular inmate is short one body part gave me a moment's pause... For once I was at a total loss...
Luckily, a trusty lieutenant of mine came to the proverbial rescue.
Apparently, whilst I was in the midst of my dilemma, Shaggy had come up behind and seen the whole thing from a distance of about 15 feet or so. As I stared after the rude and scurvy knave, Lt. Shaggy took the initiative, shouting, "You! Hey you!"
When the oafish lout turned our way Shaggy looked him full in the hideous face and jeered at him with glee,
"You pathetic jacanape! Yeah, I'm talking to you!"
At this, the general look of stupidity on the lout's face gave way to surprise...then a bit of rage. It was obvious from the look of utter cluelessness on his face that he hadn't decided what exactly he was going to do about this verbal assault on his person, when Lt. Shaggy fired the final shot of the altercation, "Your face makes my skin crawl, your foul odor makes me violently ill and your stupidity makes me want to read a book... Why don't you go home and POLISH YOUR TWIG!!!"
The cluelessness on the scoundrel's face was finally replaced by such a look of rage that I felt momentarily weak at the knees on my lieutenant's behalf... This could end very, very badly...
And then,
Inspiration struck me about the head and shoulders with the force of a newspaper on a naughty puppy...
The answer was right there at my elbow.
So I grabbed on for dear life and pulled...
The alarm sounded.
Thank goodness for the promptness of the local fire department...
By the time they arrived, the lieutenant and myself had positioned ourselves innocently in a classroom as though we'd been there all along...
The best part was that I finally made my childhood dream of pulling a fire alarm come true... and better still...
...Nothing was caught on tape.
HOORAY!!!
This particular inmate has been a problem for a long time.
He glowered at me from beneath his protruding brow and shoved me out of what he clearly considered to be his own personal space with nary a word of apology, though, just as clearly, I had done absolutely nothing to deserve this rough treatment.
I was dumb-founded...Shocked.
Without even a backward glance he proceeded down the hall, making a thump-clop sound. One foot was clad in a large boot of the shit-kicking variety and the other was absent (he has a wooden leg).
Loathe as I was to allow such treatment to pass without a word or even a sour look, the fact that this particular inmate is short one body part gave me a moment's pause... For once I was at a total loss...
Luckily, a trusty lieutenant of mine came to the proverbial rescue.
Apparently, whilst I was in the midst of my dilemma, Shaggy had come up behind and seen the whole thing from a distance of about 15 feet or so. As I stared after the rude and scurvy knave, Lt. Shaggy took the initiative, shouting, "You! Hey you!"
When the oafish lout turned our way Shaggy looked him full in the hideous face and jeered at him with glee,
"You pathetic jacanape! Yeah, I'm talking to you!"
At this, the general look of stupidity on the lout's face gave way to surprise...then a bit of rage. It was obvious from the look of utter cluelessness on his face that he hadn't decided what exactly he was going to do about this verbal assault on his person, when Lt. Shaggy fired the final shot of the altercation, "Your face makes my skin crawl, your foul odor makes me violently ill and your stupidity makes me want to read a book... Why don't you go home and POLISH YOUR TWIG!!!"
The cluelessness on the scoundrel's face was finally replaced by such a look of rage that I felt momentarily weak at the knees on my lieutenant's behalf... This could end very, very badly...
And then,
Inspiration struck me about the head and shoulders with the force of a newspaper on a naughty puppy...
The answer was right there at my elbow.
So I grabbed on for dear life and pulled...
The alarm sounded.
Thank goodness for the promptness of the local fire department...
By the time they arrived, the lieutenant and myself had positioned ourselves innocently in a classroom as though we'd been there all along...
The best part was that I finally made my childhood dream of pulling a fire alarm come true... and better still...
...Nothing was caught on tape.
HOORAY!!!
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Yup... you guessed it...some random person I'm putting up a picture of...no relation to me at all
Okay fine. It's me.
