There was this girl in second grade that used to wait until the other students got out of their chairs, then she would go over to the seat, kneel on the floor and put her face like two inches from the chair and take a big whiff. We had two Marlas in that class. She was one.

I don’t know why on EARTH she popped into my brain like that. And God only knows why I’m telling YOU people.

But there was the requisite paste-eater, whose name was Suzanne. She had pretty red hair and amazing green eyes and was nice. Marla was a jackass. Everybody gave Suzanne HELL for the paste-eating, but no one ever said anything to Marla (except for loudmouth me) for her extremely nasty and disconcerting habit.

People are fucked up, kids.

Moral of the story: Make sure you are lambasting the chair-sniffer before you grab the glue-eater by the scruff of the neck and shake.

A bunch of randomy-ness:

Haha, clever Maxim. Every few days he changes the title under the icon that we click to sign on to the InterWeb. Last week he scribbled ‘I broke mah BEARD’. This morning I found ‘The Amazing Jett Sprayer’. That Maxim is so funny! I will laugh all the way to the graveyard, on our way to bury him. Do NOT poke the rabid tiger. DO NOT. (Scientific question: DO tigers in fact get rabies?)

Today amidst the spam about J Lo giving a dancer a blow job (der…what do you think happens on the road??) and how all sorts of people want to make amazingjettgrrrl’s penis larger (yep, still getting that one) I got an e-mail from a young man residing out in the desert and calling himself ‘the dude’. Apparently the Llama comes with all sorts of free accessories, one of which is kooky friends. This is why I love Llama so. So ‘the dude’ writes a whole bunch of stuff to me via e-mail, then writes a whole bunch more (funny, I got the impression that he was maybe chemically altered…or maybe his meds were just wearing off), and down around the end of things he writes,

Jett I get the feeling that right about 17 lines up ago, you say, “hey,
who the fuck, and why the fuck do I care?”
And to this I say, ‘the dude’, you made me laugh, because I walk around saying that CONSTANTLY. Thank you for e-mailing me. Now stop it. <--that was a joke....humor eases the throbbing painium in my cranium

Talked to Keith, the ringwebmaster from giparty, last night and he is decorating his speech with ‘darlin’ these days. It works for me. All d00ds should go through a ‘darlin’ phase; some should stay in it. Chicks dig it, man, I’m here to tell ya.

My favorite spam o’ tha day was this:

On January 1st 2002, the European countries began
using the new Euro. Never before have so
many countries with such powerful economies united
to use a single currency. Get your piece of history
now! We would like to send you a FREE Euro
and a FREE report on world currency. Just visit
our site to request your Euro and Euro report.

No thank you, Satan. I exercise what little rights I still have to opt out. Speaking of Satan and what little rights I have left, here is an open call to you design freeeks out there: I am wanting to tattoo a barcode onto my ass. I’ve wanted to do this for years, even before I started getting inked. I need a good one. Anyone game enough to craft one and send it to me? When I finally get it put on, I’ll send a picture of it mounted on my flesh to the person that came up with the design I end up (geddit? END UP? HA!) using. THIS should be fun.

TACKY PACK^tm submissions are still open.

Before I forget to bitch about this (because LORD KNOWS I have so much bitching to do that some of it is bound to get lost in the mix), running a search on google of “All blogged up and nowhere to go” yields these results. Most of them are references to my site directly (either the old GeoShitties one, which amazingly still gets traffic, or this one right here that you be squattin’ on) or those who have my site linked somewhere in their own little Cyberian Word Farm. This one has nothing to do with me. Her diary is linked by MY title in several other places on Kuro5hin. Over here you find it being used as a tag line for somebody else’s site(the site in question appears to be defunct now, but still…) Here it is the lead-in to a post.

This is not the first time it’s happened and not the first time I’ve been rankled by it.

Sure, it was an off-the-cuff title, because I was stuck for a good one when creating my account at Blogger. I grabbed what came to me, what was original (I searched it before using it!), what was glib, thinking I would come up with a better one later and change it. Before I got off of my lazy brain to do so, I found myself linked at a couple different places (by the blog title) and just said –in true Jett fashion– “Ahhhh, what the fuck…”

The title is stupid, really, and I am aware of that. But the term was coined by me, to the best of my knowledge, and was nowhere to be found when I started this weblog. As I stated before, I Googled it prior to using it as my title, because I didn’t want to infringe upon someone else. Hell, I even Googled “All blogged up” before proceeding, because “what if“?? Even the truncated versions like “All blogged up” annoy me when I see them on other people’s sites, because it is a term that I –by all rights and appearances– have coined as the title to my collection of work here on the InterWeb. You NEVER saw it before I created this blog.

I am taking into account that maybe –just maybe– some of these people saw it in passing on the Blogger site in the ‘recently updated’ section and the term kinda hung somewhere in the subconcious. BUT STILL…I am pissed off. I can’t seem to help it, even though I conciously try to be the ‘bigger person’ about it.

Do I not have the right to be annoyed? Shouldn’t I be protective of the moniker that I use to identify my ‘work’ here on the web with?

I gotta end this post and go for a walk or something. The more I write about this, the more furious I become. Time for a break. Time to breathe. Time to not take this fucking box and hurl it at the wall. Time to not get out the VeVe dolls and start poking them with pins.

Please, *rubs temples, gestures toward the monitor* comment. By all means, comment.

My most favorite Girls Are Pretty entry to date.

Faye is a cocksucker to me.

No matter how nice, indifferent or quietly surly I’ve been with Faye, she has come back at me putrescently aloof, indignant and just plain mean. I’ve done nothing (I swear on my mother’s eyeballs) to merit this sort of treatment. Faye is just “one of those people”, and has chosen me as her unwitting target.

Little ole puckered-faced Faye knows not with whom she messeth.

After foolishly returning her surliness a couple times, I have come to a monumental decision. I am going to kill Faye with kindness.

I am going to do this because Faye WANTS me to hate her back, WANTS me to treat her with ugliness so that she will have an excuse for her own behavior.

Just the other day when I saw her, I beamed widely and greeted her by name with genuine goodwill. She gave me a look of contempt mixed with a dollop of suspicion.

As she engaged another party in conversation, shutting me out, half-turned from me (the usual), I just stood there and smiled as hard as I fucking well could into the back of her little (she’s five-two) neck as I went about my business.

I smiled and smiiiiiiled. And smiled some more. I smiled so much that I actually felt my already-fair mood slide up a notch or two. Before too very long I began noticing that Faye was grabbing furtive little glances at me, then looking away quickly.

“Ahh-HA, you codgy bitch…I gotcha!!” I thought to myself, and I was so pleased that the next time she snuck a look-see at me, I stretched my already-dopey grin even wider and gave Miss Faye a little nod. It was fucking great, I tell ya; I was in fine form!

She beat a hasty retreat in fairly short fashion. She prolly thinks I’m insane or retarded or a criminal combination of both, but I surely don’t fucking care, because she left, negating the need to deal with her unreasonable grumpy buttholeness further. YAY TEAM!

I am SO looking forward to seeing her again!

Welllllll, I was gonna throw a BIGCRAZYSEXAAAAYTERRIFICOVERBOSE post up here, but I got Hoovered (J. Edgar or otherwise) into The HeroMachine over at UnderGroundOnline and it mercilessly sucked up all my time. Once the resident techno’tard (read: me) figures out the whole screen capture business, I may just throw a couple of my creations up here for your perusal.

Heh. Forgot all about my yahoo (I refuse to capitalize or add the ridiculous !EXCLAMATION! point….yahoo’s nothing to get excited about) personal ovah heeyah.

ChristInY’all: “Your Christ is too small.” I believe I’ll have that put on a t-shirt. It speaks volumes to me, although not in the way that they’d intended, I’d wager…

Get outta here and submit for a TACKY PACK^tm! You know you want one….this month’s topic is “The Inscription for Jett’s Headstone”. Hell, I’m laughing so hard at the ones that have already been submitted, it may even become a separate section for this site. Wheee!

I forgot to say ‘cogent’ in this post, so there, I just said it. COGENT. COGENTcogentCOGENT.

*cough*

They are doing something that totally freaks me out at the neighborhood Piggly Wiggly.

The area grocery magnate, Mary Hardin (known as the ‘First Lady of Piggly Wiggly’, she was the first female to ever own one of the stores), recently died. A large funeral stand of flowers has been placed at each door in every store she owned. They pay all the requisite sympathy hoo-ha in big gold letters splashed across trailing white ribbons.

Is it just me, or is that shit more than a little creepy? I think it is; I think it’s downright fucked up. Seeing those funeral arrangements situated on the other side of the sliding glass pneumatic grocery store doors as I approached was like finding a turd not in the punchbowl, but in the ladle as I was filling my cup. Eeeee!

I hope the brilliant mind that placed the flowers there plans to remove them soon; it freaks me right the fuck out (I know I said that before, but I cannot emphasize enough how uncomfortable I got). You usually only see those huge floral stands where there’s a body. With those things standing sentry at the doors, the macabre thought that ole Ms. Hardin might be laid out in one of the upright coolers somewhere dances crazily at the back of my head.

And yeah, this chain of Pig (‘Pig’….that’s what the locals call Piggly Wiggly…) stores is big on running contests as promotions….

“Locate the cooler where we’ve laid out Miss Mary and win $250 IN GROCERIES AND A NEW LEAF BLOWER!!”

We are not crazy here in the South. We are….eccentric and chah-min’.

For the record, I mean no disrespect to Miss Mary….thank God for women of vision with a penchant for giving largely of self. My condolences to her daughters and all others that love(d) her.

OH, HEY! Nearly forgot….TACKY PACK^tm submissions are open…go to it!

If you recall, I suggested that this month’s topic should be “Jett’s Headstone Inscription”. Fire away, lads and lasses.