I'm Johnson; this is Special Agent Johnson. No relation.

Part Un: Slothfulness Begets Coffee Cake

So it may be a mortal sin--arguably the most boring of them all (insert Gwyneth Paltrow's head [here])--but being disorderly apparently has its perks. Listen closely:

I'm poor. Unfortunately, this is nothing new; I just recently took a serious look at my budget instead of living in the land of unicorns and dandelions, where student loans don't have to be paid back. It's a fantastic place, most definitely, but it's just not practical. This makes this story ten times more awesome than what it actually is (which isn't that awesome, but read along anyway). Because of this, I have recently learned to depend on the kindness of others (Stelllla!), and man, do others rock. Turns out being poor is full of useful little tidbits of life lessons. I digress.

Anyway, it's any normal day, and I decide to go to Starbucks. Again, I know what you're thinking,

"Jackie, you just prefaced this with an unnecessary paragraph about you being broke. What gives?"

Relax, mon frere. I had a giftcard. I pick my friends wisely (aka for money-grubbing reasons. And friends that have stashes of giftcards that don't drink coffee. These kinds are the best kinds, regardless of what your parents told you). I get my grahnday iced coffee with nonfat milk and a shot of vanilla and decide upon some reduced-fat coffee cake (read: 107 grams of fat as opposed to 110) because the only foods I have in my house are year-old s'mores Pop Tarts and the brown rice I once soaked my iPod in 7 months ago. Turns out, the former is sort of delicious and the latter, not so much. I proceed to the window where the girl takes my card, swipes it, and makes an exceedingly extensive amount of conversation with me. She eventually hands me my coffee, bids me 'adieu' and I'm all,



"Uhh, bitch. Where my coffee cake be at?"

And she's all,



"Oh, I didn't realize that. May I see your card again?"

And I can't find it, and I can't find it. During this time, she gets impatient with me and goes to get the coffee cake (she was not Hillary Clinton; I would've mentioned this). I still can't find it. When she comes back, I say, "I think this is God telling me I don't need coffee cake today (funny how my new-found half-agnosticism lacks in certain areas of my life)." She leans over, hands me it, and tells me not to worry; I thank her with a very grateful smile, drive off, and see the giftcard two seconds later on the floor.

Summary: I'm awesome. I just scored free coffee cake because I'm disorderly (read: awesome). I will now proceed to use this tactic in other similar useful domains like the Olive Garden, the LaPorte Road Adult Emporium, and the drive-up liquor window on 5th. I will be sure to fill you in on my successes.

PS - The usage of 'all' as a quotative fell out of common usage around something like 1999 to be replaced with 'like' (I might have inverted this), which was, in turn, replaced with 'all like'. Apparently I'm a decade behind major linguistic trends (at least among 'young' people. Or maybe I'm just old.).

Part Deux: OPEN CASTING CALL

ARE YOU HIP?

ARE YOU INTO DEFYING GENDER NORMS?

ARE YOU COOL WITH INNOCENT RELIGIOUS MOCKERY?

DO YOU HAVE WAY TOO MUCH FREE TIME ON YOUR HANDS?

DO YOU LOVE WEARING WOOL AND SANDALS?

BETTER YET, DO YOU LOVE JESUS?

BETTER STILL, DO YOU LOVE ZOMBIE JESUS?

Before you ask, I'll tell you how this went down:

JK: [discussing Joseph & the Amazing Technocolor Dreamcoat] Man, you guys really need more theme nights.
ES: Tell me about it; those used to be so much fun.
JK: ...Bible Character night.
ES: ...
...
...
I CALL JESUS.
JK: Hold on; this is important: alive Jesus,



dead Jesus,



or resurrected Jesus?



ES: Zombie Jesus.
JK: Asian, female, zombie Jesus.
ES: Facebook event?
JK: ...Documentary.

If interested, please create your own costume and show up in my basement sometime in the next three weeks. Preference given to gingers and cross-gendered roles. Sorry, at this time the role of FEMALE ASIAN ZOMBIE JESUS has already been filled.

Thank you.

PS - None of the aforementioned is intended to be offensive. I, myself, think Jesus was probably the bee's knees.

Thank God For Jay-Z.

Some people are just gross. You might say, "gee, Jackie, I think that is rather obvious, don't you?", to which I will retort, "yes, of course; however, it isn't often that I get mad at others' grossness/rudeness. Their grudeness , if you will.

Last night at work, the clock struck midnight, so all glass must immediately become plastic. This woman really wanted a lemonade, but was not satisfied with her plastic cup. She opted to just dump the plastic cup into her previously attained glass. The problem: now she has two straws.

So what does she decide to do?

Because RIVERSIDE CASINO AND GOLF RESORT's lemonade (read: sugar and lemon flavoring out of a generic-branded box) is apparently just so finger-lickin' good (alert the presses), she proceeds to lick the straw up and down, full 360, (needless to say) blow-job style (sorry, Ma), and hand it to me.

Now, I'm sure you're thinking, oh God, did you vom all over her? You'll be sad to know I did not; though looking back, I sort of wish I would've. I think this makes me awesome. Not only did I take her goddamn straw (which I should've just demanded she put on my tray herself), I did it with a smile that could elicit rainbows from grumpy leprechauns.

The broad didn't tip.


Later on, I had to tell myself that I was better looking and more educated and she probably just couldn't handle it. I'm sure this doesn't seem like a big deal; we've all done grosser things. Just let me revel for a bit and dream of one day using my degree.

After a day like that, sometimes the only thing that can make you feel better is a little Jay-Z. I mean, seriously, that man is turning into a legend. It's like I woke up one day and understood why Beyonce is into that. It's 2010 and I'm still wiping the dirt off my shoulders because ladies is pimps, too. I hope that advice is bestowed upon my unborn children. Kids, listen to mommy. Now gon' brush yo' shoulders off.

I am not trying to seduce you.

Maybe there is a god...

...because sometimes weird shit happens. The alternative theory is that all cats (and dogs) turn into bipeds whilst humans are away. Or maybe just cats (and dogs) with human names. I don't think you get it. The Reader's Digest version goes a little something like this: my mom and I were talking about this froyo coupon she misplaced.

(For the record, froyo places are as abundant here as herpes in the bars of Iowa City, but less abundant than donut places. If you wanted a pie chart, it'd go donut places, froyo joints, herpes.)

Blah blah blah, can't find the coup, yadda yadda yadda. I thought she said she needed some tupperware right now so I get some out. Turns out she didn't. So I set it on the counter. We leave. We get back.

What's on top of the tupperware?

THE FROYO COUP.

So, like I said, either there's a god or cats can walk and talk (and find froyo coupons) just like the rest of us. I've heard crazier theories before. If it turns out there be a god, I don't think he'll give me very many brownie points for replacing his existence with the metamorphosis of cats. Ah, well. You win some, you lose some.

I'm not sure anything can really top that. Maybe Point Dume. Say it after me, "Point DOOOOOOOOM". But, alas, it is pronounced Point [du'meI], or doo-MAY. It would be totally cooler if it were pronounced like the former, but it's not. Luckily, it's still bitchin'. Like oceans up to your eyeballs everywhere you look bitchin'. Free stuff is always the best stuff. Like Snapple. Only Snapple isn't free and they stopped making the best kinds like, 10 years ago. Kiwi-strawberry? Fruit punch?!

Oh, Point Dume is a point in Malibu. It slightly resembles the cliff I have in my head that I want to get married on. No groom jumping jokes here, please.

I think, once I return, one of the highlights of this trip will be the insane number of times I heard the Macarena on the radio (read: 2. May not seem like much initially, but seriously think about it.) I am awed and frightened by you if you knew this title was from that song. Do you guys remember sixth grade? When we would do it in music class? ...We were awesome.

I am also turning over a new leaf. I will never have a bonfire in someone's backyard again. Because once you go beach bonfire, you never...come back.

And why does no one like mushy french fries? I love mushy french fries.

I rescued a duckling.

I'll admit it, the only reason I'm really doing this is because Ashley's doing it. I'm caving under the peer pressure. I think I started one of these when I was twelve and emo; didn't we all? Hopefully this one will be a bit more polysyllabic and a lot less angsty.

On that note, my dad got a Facebook. Don't get me wrong, my dad is awesome (read: friend my dad RIGHT NOW if you know him), but I'm pretty sure he's the type to go through all my pictures and ask me what I was doing on the night of January 27th, 2008. I don't know how you people with tech-savvy 'rents put up with it. I messaged him the other day; he's been on several times since and never gotten back to me. I never thought I would be paranoid about my own father's facebook activity. Change is good, I guess.

I've been in California since...Wednesday. What a debacle that was. One canceled flight led to $30 in food vouchers (because I'm awesome/ever fungry? Some people got $6--suck on that, Delta.), $100 in travel vouchers (not enough), and a solid three hours waiting in line. Lines, actually. If I woulda actually had things to do I would've been incredibly frustrated and angry (like the French woman next to me. Hot.) like I get in the middle of traffic jams when I'm late. In the words of Barney Stinson, "Hell, I'll punch a baby."

Yesterday, all these ducklings were stuck in the pool at my mom's place. After the gardeners couldn't get them out, I figured I'd give 'er a shot. I got one out (!!) but of course he quacked around in a circle for about 15 seconds before he just jumped right back in to join his siblings. It was sort of funny; once I got up to try to rescue them the couple of others in the pool joined me. Bystander effect, or what?

Man, my transitions suck.

What else? Oh, I'm in love with Bradley Cooper. He speaks fluent French and graduated from Georgetown in HONORS English. Don't say I never taught you anything. I know Renee Zellweger was Roxy and all in 'Chicago', but I'm sorry, the girl ain't hot. Her and Cameron Diaz. For different reasons, but same category. I give it six months before he finds a CZJ.

I applied for my second job in California. I don't know if I actually want it. But, to quote another beautiful man, "Risk nothing, gain nothing." I hope he's right.

Oh, and here's a picture to brighten your day:



Enjoy. =]