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Archive for December, 2006

|| December 10, 2006 || 3:44 am || Comments (0) ||

ACTIVATE! (w00t)

Wow, Gleek sure has gotten more fierce. And the Twins be lookin’ kinda hot.


‘Inbowed’ should be an official, recognized word.

Dear Patty Griffin:

I’d like to say thank you for these.

But mostly for this.

Keep doing these marvelous things,

Jett “I Get It” Superior

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Dear Interwebnets:

John Fogerty, jiggers of tequila and a shade of lipstick known simply as ‘Brave‘ helped shape tonight’s events. These things, quite unbeknownst to (or maybe just conveniently forgotten by?) me, cause havoc when blended.

I think next time I will have some Cat Stevens, two glasses of wine and wear a swipe of pale gold across my mouth.

Another lesson learned,

Jett “Porch Swings Are Too Damn Cold This Time Of Year” Superior

pee ess, have I ever mentioned that I talk with my hands? cos I do. the only difference between here and facespace is that all my gesticulating is aimed into a keyboard. One is no more deliberate or precise than the Other. and now I make my graceless, shambling exit. toodles or sommat.

::: :: ::: :: ::: :: :::

The Sunday after there was laughter in the air / Everybody had a kite / They were flying everywhere / And all the trouble went away / And it wasn’t just a dream / All the trouble went away / And it wasn’t just a dream

In the middle of the night / We try and try with all our mights / To light a little light down here / In the middle of the night / We dream of a million kites / Flying high above / The sadness and the fear

Little sister just remember / As you wander through the blue / The little kite that you sent flying / On a sunny afternoon / Made of something light as nothing / Made of joy that matters too / How the little dreams we dream / Are all we can really do

In the middle of the night / The world turns with all of it’s might / A little diamond colored blue / In the middle of the night / We keep sending little kites / Until a little light gets through

// Patty Griffin, ‘Kite Song’

A little something for one or two of you before I head out for the day….

So I went to bed about four this morning. I awoke around seven to find the television still on (dang sleep timer, arrrrgh!) and ‘Rocky‘ playing. Drifting in and out for a little bit, I kind of snapped awake at a point in the movie where he was tapping away at the speedbag. I watched intently for a minute or so and then turned my head back into the pillow.

Fast-forward three hours, and I was again suddenly, inexplicably awake. There was ‘Rocky II‘ on the tube, and again Rocky was banging away at the bag. Steady, metronomic, graceful, focused. I’m not a big fan of Sylvester Stallone –he doesn’t exactly ding my bell on any count, if you get me– but both times I was mesmerized.

There is something here, my brain kept telling me, pay attention; there is something you are supposed to catch. Then I had the expected sweet epiphany:

It’s not the fact that he’s hitting the bag. Not the fact that he’s doing it effectively and well, either. Or even that he’s training, specifically. It’s the look on his face as he’s doing so. That look makes all the difference. It reflects his mindset fully –he’s so ensconsced in hitting that bag that he’s no time to worry about what his face reveals– and determines the way the world (in this case, a moviegoing one) susses him up and responds to him.

I want to be mesmerizing; don’t you, as well?

|| December 8, 2006 || 12:04 am || Comments (4) ||

Shut UP! FAAAABulous!

Right now, at this very instant, I am talking to Clayton via the big fat Google Talk app. It is, even for a slightly phobic technotard, pretty fucking tiiiight.


CLAYTON: Hell, you sound like you ARE RIGHT HERE IN THE SAME ROOM.

The first thing Clayton thought of, as he is So Very Smart, was that we needed to test this service from various locations to see if the eerie and surreal clarity was supported over distances more vast than the Hellabama-Tejas one.

“Hokay, I’ma pack for Greece right now; see ya!” I said.

“And I’m heading for New Zealand!” he said back to me.

At present, we are talking about peeing the bed. Not as adults, you sillies, as kids. There are terms ’soggy taco’ and ‘pissbag’ being bandied about as descriptors for wet bed linens. Now THIS is what the twenty-first century is all about! Had you told me when I was nine that in a little over two decades I’d be wearing a headset and talking to nearly complete strangers from all over the place while tethered to a fairly complex box replete with screen and keyboard, I’d have drooled on myself. This would have been from ay) excitement and bee) the total incomprehensiblity of it all.

Hell, if you’d have told me the same damn thing a mere three years ago, it may well have elicited the very same reaction.

Clay just killed the call! There now, he’s dialing back. He sounds confused:

“Er, ahhh, sorry! I got clicky with shit and…”

And now I am dying with laughter. Each and every one of you had better run out and fetch yourself a headset post-haste. I will clicktocall each and every one of you, and you will indeed be sorry that Google has opened up this can of worms.

Okay, he just said, “…your little wiggly goes up and down…” with regard to the vox meter. I have to end this now, ‘cos I can’t possibly type and guffaw this hard at the same time.

|| December 7, 2006 || 2:14 pm || Comments (0) ||

You yayhoos Flickr’d out yet?

Extree-speshull Muffinasses With A Cherry On Top, you are going to be sorry that I got a Flickr account one day, I just know it. Prolly by the end of the year, I reckon, because there are all manner of retarded, uninteresting photos I could be taking and posting (WAFFLES! TOILET PAPER STUCK TO SAM’S SHOE! THE ENORMOUS ZIT THAT IS TRYING LIKE HELL TO ERUPT JUST UNDER MY CHIN!)….each and every one of you will rue the day that you ever challenged even one single voyeurnal entry as ‘overblown’, because now (well, actually, Christmas Day when the brand! new! camera! makes its appearance) I have the means to prove these things I communicate to you.

Or do you like the pictures in your head better? Vote, while you still have a voice!

We all know in our heart of hearts that it may likely be a moot point anyway. What is the overall likelihood that I’ll have a (beautiful! brand! new!) camera ready and waiting with freshly-charged batteries and enough memory with which to do anything each and every time I’m called to do so? Yeah. Most of you have been around long enough to answer that one. Oh She Of The Spastic Nature will get maybe a fourth of a fourth (what is that, like, eight percent? the mathtard needs some helps) of the shots necessary.

So yeah, WAFFLES! TOILET PAPER STUCK TO SAM’S SHOE! THE ENORMOUS ZIT THAT IS TRYING LIKE HELL TO ERUPT JUST UNDER MY CHIN! Look forward to it and weep. Until then, here is Mathias getting ready to go to the Christmas tree farm last weekend:

:: Mathias consistently brings the funny ::

All you folk just know there is a Christmas Tree Story (complete with photo of me hugging a tree, OMFGBBQANDSHIT) waiting in the wings. As always, it is chock-full of irony and Jett-specific Cosmic Twiststm that just have to be recounted. Till then, Cyberia, forever yours,

That Jett Grrrl

|| December 4, 2006 || 12:19 am || Comments (3) ||

Reason #481 why I love Sam

Reason #1,973 why I should not be left to my own devices

Yesterday afternoon, as I was getting tarted up to go out, about, and alla round, the cord just up and fell out of my favorite curling iron. You know, the juicy-fat one that tames all frizz and makes my hair do some semblance of kicking in or out all in the same general direction.

I goggled in amazement, because I’ve never-ever had a curling iron just decide to shit out its cord before. WTF??

I commenced to holler for Sam to bring me a phillips head screwdriver, because the girls are pretty useless when it comes to that sort of thing. They play dumb (“What’s this phyllis head you speak of? Where do we keep the tools again? Why can’t you just wait and let daddy fix that thing?”) and I end up getting infuriated.

Frequently it comes in handy to have fourteen-million kids milling about. They serve as excellent alibis, at times they have helpful information to impart, on occasion they can craft a tourniquet. Sometimes, they –as was the case yesterday afternoon– can even save you from yourself.

Sam stood there as I sat on my bed and disassembled the iron’s handle section so as to go about poking and prodding and saying wise things like, “Hmm. HMMMM.”

At a certain point, I’d visually absorbed as much as I thought necessary, and I set about connecting all the appropriate bits to make hair magic happen. I slid this there, aligned that with that, and then I slipped the cord’s coupling into the base of the handle, seating it just…so.

Round about then, there was a large white flash, a bigscary POP! and I shrieked. The whole shrieking thing is such an uncommon occurrence that I startled even myself and spastically slung the curling iron body away from myself, kind of pushing it dual-handed through the air, causing it to land at Sam’s feet. That boy, he didn’t move a muscle, much less blink.

JETT: *sheepish* Whoops, looks like I neglected to unplug the cord from the wall.

SAM: Give me that screwdriver. You’re done.

Whereupon he closed the six feet of distance between us, held out his hand in a very manly, decisive way and accepted the tool I handed over in an embarrassedly resigned fashion. He then turned and bent, picking up the (only slightly blackened) iron and went to deposit them both in their rightful places. Screwdriver: Utility room cabinet. Curling iron: Trash.

I unplugged the cord (finally! der!) and wrapped it around my neck, choking myself a little in penance. The end.

|| December 2, 2006 || 12:25 am || Comments (1) ||

Road Noise: Part the Final

I swear, I must be cursed. Every time I make semi-regular posts via a dial-in audioblogging platform, they pull the fucking plug on the thing. Audblog decided to stop allowing voice posts as of 1 November 06. Unlike those hapless cheesenutted selfish twits the folks at Audlink, however, Audblog has graciously decided to continue hosting all the files recorded until that date. PLUS, quite unlike the selfish shitheads powers that be at Audlink, Audblog e-mailed its users and gave us some notice. So thanks, Audblog, it was glorious while it lasted.

As you may or may not recall, at the beginning of September my best pal Tess and I took a twelve-hour road trip to Florida. Here are the few remaining audio clips of our adventures:

The summation of things is the fact that you canna even come close to capturing the magic and madness that is Tess And Me with just one format. Hell, you delightful Muffinasses should just pull out the fancy plastic crystal and have us over for drinks and charades.

Also? We are waaaaay better at Ten Top Gun Quotes In Twenty Seconds Or Less now. We could totally smoke your ass.