JANE DOE – DOE OR DEER?
Note to readers. I just got back from vacation and I am too tired to write another genius posting, so instead I’m running an interview with an old friend, Jane. You’ll find Jane very amusing. I wrote the questions, and the answers are all hers. Granted, she’s not as funny as she is weird, but you’re still in for quite a treat because she’s really, really weird. As for some background info, Jane was my friend in high school and a bridesmaid at my wedding. I had her wash my wedding gown, mop the church floor, and clean off the tables at the reception. And now, on to the posting, already in progress.
Every now and then, I would like to acknowledge some of our loyal readers who savor every line that I write and eagerly post comments within minutes of my publishing the blog. One such reader is the infamous Jane Doe, also known as Jersey Jane. She’s the one who verbally attacked a poor, sweet Amish man who wrote a comment on my blog. Some say this was an obvious attempt by Jane to make herself feel superior. Others say they don’t really care why she did it. Fascinating!
What does makes Jane Doe tick? When did she get that pacemaker anyway? And why is she so obsessed with The Way I See It? The answers to those riveting questions and more are below in an exclusive one-on-one interview that won’t be found anywhere else – not in People Magazine, not on the E! Channel.
Jackie: Jane, when did you first start reading my blog?
Jane: Right after you threatened to burn down my house if I didn’t.
Jackie: Why do you spend time on the computer reading what others write instead of attending to your husband and 11 children?
Jane: I read your blog whenever I’m feeling down. It immediately cheers me by reminding me that I’m not you.
Jackie: How did you come to have 11 children? Was it planned? Do you like having a family that is that large?
Jane: Eleven children?? Not me. You’ve confused me with one of your other bloggers . . . that woman named Bubba.
Jackie: What do you do for a living?
Jane: I’m a professional model who is finishing up my PhD. This Ivy League education will give me something to fall back on once my looks begin to fail as badly yours have. Too bad you never followed through with your own education and finished getting your GED. Then perhaps you wouldn’t be such the drain on the public welfare system that you are today.
Jackie: What is it you admire most about me?
Jane: Your moxie. It amazes me how someone as pathetic as you can continue to face the world each day.
Jackie: If you could be any fruit in the world, what fruit would you be and why?
Jane: A pineapple. They come from the most exotic locations and are in all of the cool cocktails. [Jackie’s note: That isn’t funny. It’s not even interesting. It was such a boring response that I yawned when she said that. Also, my son tells me that technically, pineapples aren’t fruits anyway. All fruits have seeds, and pineapples do not. I hope Jane doesn’t read this part. She’s sensitive and may be offended.]
Jackie: What if you could be a vegetable?
Jane: I’d be Jackie Phillips. It would be fascinating to learn what goes on (or doesn’t go on) in that so-called brain.
Jackie: Have you ever wanted to learn origami?
Jane: No, I avoid all things Asian for fear of getting the bird flu.
Jackie: Gee, look how quickly the time has flown by. I have to wrap up the interview. Is there anything about yourself that you would like the readers to know?
Jane: No, because quite frankly I’m afraid of your readers. I do my best to steer clear of prisoners, psychos and homeless people. The less they know about me the better.
Well, readers, there you have it, straight from the horse’s mouth. Hope you enjoyed meeting Jane. She’s refreshing as a root canal and quite the treasure. Her husband, “John Doe,” is a lucky man. Thank you, Jane, for opening your mind and heart to the public eye. I owe you one. Have a great week everyone.
Jackie
COMMENTS:
So you're claiming to have a friend? That's adorable.
~Bob Loblaw, Anytown, USA
Does Jane have a sister?
~Bill Clinton
I was unable to locate your unextensive playlist. However, Lady Gaga started vocalizing about playing cards and being one crazy girl while I was trying to discern your anti-Jersey comments. Is she part of your musical repetoire?
~AJR
AJR, you scrolled down and still didn't find the playlist? It's there. Try it again, but this time without the vodka. Also, it takes a bit for your computer to load the playlist box, so give it time. Since your computer is a 1928 model, it may take longer than other models.
~Jackie
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Aug 8, 2009
Jul 30, 2009
Ain't Nothing Wrong with New Jersey
I was watching ABC World News on July 23 when I heard Charlie Gibson say the state of NJ “has a long history of corruption.” I take exception to that negativity. New Jersey is a state I once called home, and my family still lives there. I have very fond memories of NJ -- the Jersey shore, boardwalks, Philly cheesesteaks, pretzels, Italian water ice. And let’s not forget the toxic waste dumps, mafia, the highest car insurance rates in the nation, full-serve gas stations, and Wawa convenience stores.
But why is it that every time NJ is mentioned in the news, it’s always something bad? The state is a national joke, but it’s not funny to me. When we lived in Maryland, we used to call NJ the “armpit of the nation.” Now that’s funny.
If you’re not familiar with NJ, just think of the state as a giant suburb to New York City or Philadelphia. It’s also known for being a turnpike to those traveling to more important places, like Manhattan or D.C. The only part of NJ that really has its own identity is the Jersey shore, which New Jersians promptly put fences around and charge people high rates to use. Doesn't anyone admire that ingenuity? NJ also has the Pine Barrens in the south, a rural, sparsely populated forest area near the beaches that is home to the legendary Jersey Devil. It is said that the Jersey Devil was born a baby, but instantly changed into a winged devil monster that scares the locals and unsuspecting campers. Now that’s the NJ charm!
You can’t bottle all that goodness, but as I watched the news, Charlie Gibson talked about the dark side, saying 44 public officials, including three mayors, deputy majors, assemblymen, councilmen, rabbis and more were charged with taking bribes. What are people going to think about NJ now? The news reports hardly ever mention that NJ is called the Garden State or that it boasts a lovely, crime-free area surrounding the Atlantic City casinos!
Some people say corruption and criminal behavior are part of NJ life, but I say people from New Jersey are just more open to new experiences. For example, a Christian preschool teacher asked my Italian friend if he does “favors.” My friend understood the mistake (after all, he looks Italian) and told her he wasn’t connected. No biggie in NJ, but everywhere else people would make a federal case of having a preschool teacher ask if you could knock off someone for them. But my friend was born and raised in NJ, so he didn’t pay any attention to it. See, that’s called charming. New Jersians take life in stride and don’t let things bother them. “Fugget about it” is their motto, which they stole from New Yorkers.
What I see as the New Jersey persona begins to take shape quite early in a New Jersian’s life. Cute little toddlers would flip me off from their mom’s grocery cart if I smiled at them in the Shop Rite or Acme. Their parents had taught them to be wary of strangers, and the tots took it to heart. By first grade, street-smart youngsters were playing blackjack on the playground and told my sons that there was no Santa Claus or Easter bunny (which is just not true). I went to high school with a boy linked to a crime family and thought nothing of it -- in my mind, who didn’t know someone linked to the mob? When I was in college, I remember a group of truant 10-year-olds throwing beer bottles at me and other terrorized students as we tried to enter a building on Rutgers’ Camden campus. There was broken glass everywhere. Again, kids are kids. They just want to have a little fun. Are you telling me you think all those people will grow up to be corrupt or criminals? I’m 72% certain they won’t.
People look at the abrasiveness and anger, but don’t see the state’s focus on education. When a 12-year-old punk shot out my dad’s car window with a bb gun for kicks and my husband grabbed the little rascal by the neck, the kid shouted, “F--- you. I’m a minor. If you touch me, you’ll go to jail.” Now some teacher did a great job of teaching that youngster the law! That child was certainly not “left behind.”
Put all these stories together and you’ll get a bad image of NJ, but if you witnessed only one of these incidents each day, they’d soon become part of your daily routine and blend in with the woodwork. Eventually, it doesn’t even bother you. Heck, if you don’t get accosted or threatened in some way on a daily basis, you’ll begin to feel unsettled, as if the world is losing its balance.
I know that from experience. When I moved to the Midwest and no strangers accosted me or cursed at me for days, I felt sort of homesick, as if people here were just disinterested. Where’s the passion? Was something wrong with me?
My favorite NJ story occurred in South Jersey. My friend told me about it at a Jewish bakery, right after we dropped off our sons at preschool. She said the previous night, her sons were playing on her bedroom floor while she and her husband watched TV on the bed. The boys kept saying there was a man under the bed, which she thought was a game. Finally, she looked under the bed and found that there was an intruder hiding there! Talking with a mouth full of pastry, my friend calmly told me that she pulled the guy out from under the bed and “beat the sh— out of him” before her husband even had a chance to get to him. Her story was so matter-of-fact, a reflection that assaulting an intruder is no biggie for a Jersey girl. I looked at my friend in awe. What a story, and that too, told between bites of hamentashen!
I felt awkward, as if I needed to prove I was tough too. I thought about telling her what just happened in my neighborhood -- how the cops finally arrested a peeping Tom who made nightly visits to my backyard and my neighbor’s yard for almost a month. But how could I tell her I never confronted the guy? I would just call the cops at each sighting. My friend would have tackled him and put him in a headlock. I felt ashamed. I didn’t even have the guts to throw a rock at him. Well, we all have regrets in life.
Regardless, I may not be a Jersey girl, but I still love the state. My friends there are real friends, and I’m not just saying that because I’m frightened of them, especially Cindy. So what if a few rabbis, public officials, cops and mayors got arrested in the fifth-smallest state? It could happen anywhere. As my friend Jane would say, “Yous need to fugget about it.”
COMMENTS:
-- From Jersey Jane: "You misquoted me. It should read, "Yous need to fugget about it you morons."
And HOW could you write such a glowing article about NJ and fail to mention our favorite son: Jim "I am a gay American" McGreevey? You disappoint me, you moron."
-- You forgot to ask, "You from Jersey? What exit?"
~Ron
-- BTW - more profound polls please. Especially if they use European spelling, as in "colour."
Favourably,
~AJR
-- I think NJ is a great state. It's so tiny and inferior that I don't have to hear about its problems. Its sports teams are also really bad, so my favorite teams always beat them. That's why I like NJ.
~Tim
-- I was unable to locate your unextensive playlist. However, Lady Gaga started vocalizing about playing cards and being one crazy girl while I was trying to discern your anti-Jersey comments. Is she part of your musical repetoire?
~AJR
-- Apparently, I was not scroll-happy enough. I have now located the musak portion of this blog. Poker Face happens to be one of Riley's favorite songs....the video does have two huge dogs in it after all.
~AJR
Jackie's comment: Sure, whatever you say, crazy person. I love dogs too.
<>
But why is it that every time NJ is mentioned in the news, it’s always something bad? The state is a national joke, but it’s not funny to me. When we lived in Maryland, we used to call NJ the “armpit of the nation.” Now that’s funny.
If you’re not familiar with NJ, just think of the state as a giant suburb to New York City or Philadelphia. It’s also known for being a turnpike to those traveling to more important places, like Manhattan or D.C. The only part of NJ that really has its own identity is the Jersey shore, which New Jersians promptly put fences around and charge people high rates to use. Doesn't anyone admire that ingenuity? NJ also has the Pine Barrens in the south, a rural, sparsely populated forest area near the beaches that is home to the legendary Jersey Devil. It is said that the Jersey Devil was born a baby, but instantly changed into a winged devil monster that scares the locals and unsuspecting campers. Now that’s the NJ charm!
You can’t bottle all that goodness, but as I watched the news, Charlie Gibson talked about the dark side, saying 44 public officials, including three mayors, deputy majors, assemblymen, councilmen, rabbis and more were charged with taking bribes. What are people going to think about NJ now? The news reports hardly ever mention that NJ is called the Garden State or that it boasts a lovely, crime-free area surrounding the Atlantic City casinos!
Some people say corruption and criminal behavior are part of NJ life, but I say people from New Jersey are just more open to new experiences. For example, a Christian preschool teacher asked my Italian friend if he does “favors.” My friend understood the mistake (after all, he looks Italian) and told her he wasn’t connected. No biggie in NJ, but everywhere else people would make a federal case of having a preschool teacher ask if you could knock off someone for them. But my friend was born and raised in NJ, so he didn’t pay any attention to it. See, that’s called charming. New Jersians take life in stride and don’t let things bother them. “Fugget about it” is their motto, which they stole from New Yorkers.
What I see as the New Jersey persona begins to take shape quite early in a New Jersian’s life. Cute little toddlers would flip me off from their mom’s grocery cart if I smiled at them in the Shop Rite or Acme. Their parents had taught them to be wary of strangers, and the tots took it to heart. By first grade, street-smart youngsters were playing blackjack on the playground and told my sons that there was no Santa Claus or Easter bunny (which is just not true). I went to high school with a boy linked to a crime family and thought nothing of it -- in my mind, who didn’t know someone linked to the mob? When I was in college, I remember a group of truant 10-year-olds throwing beer bottles at me and other terrorized students as we tried to enter a building on Rutgers’ Camden campus. There was broken glass everywhere. Again, kids are kids. They just want to have a little fun. Are you telling me you think all those people will grow up to be corrupt or criminals? I’m 72% certain they won’t.
People look at the abrasiveness and anger, but don’t see the state’s focus on education. When a 12-year-old punk shot out my dad’s car window with a bb gun for kicks and my husband grabbed the little rascal by the neck, the kid shouted, “F--- you. I’m a minor. If you touch me, you’ll go to jail.” Now some teacher did a great job of teaching that youngster the law! That child was certainly not “left behind.”
Put all these stories together and you’ll get a bad image of NJ, but if you witnessed only one of these incidents each day, they’d soon become part of your daily routine and blend in with the woodwork. Eventually, it doesn’t even bother you. Heck, if you don’t get accosted or threatened in some way on a daily basis, you’ll begin to feel unsettled, as if the world is losing its balance.
I know that from experience. When I moved to the Midwest and no strangers accosted me or cursed at me for days, I felt sort of homesick, as if people here were just disinterested. Where’s the passion? Was something wrong with me?
My favorite NJ story occurred in South Jersey. My friend told me about it at a Jewish bakery, right after we dropped off our sons at preschool. She said the previous night, her sons were playing on her bedroom floor while she and her husband watched TV on the bed. The boys kept saying there was a man under the bed, which she thought was a game. Finally, she looked under the bed and found that there was an intruder hiding there! Talking with a mouth full of pastry, my friend calmly told me that she pulled the guy out from under the bed and “beat the sh— out of him” before her husband even had a chance to get to him. Her story was so matter-of-fact, a reflection that assaulting an intruder is no biggie for a Jersey girl. I looked at my friend in awe. What a story, and that too, told between bites of hamentashen!
I felt awkward, as if I needed to prove I was tough too. I thought about telling her what just happened in my neighborhood -- how the cops finally arrested a peeping Tom who made nightly visits to my backyard and my neighbor’s yard for almost a month. But how could I tell her I never confronted the guy? I would just call the cops at each sighting. My friend would have tackled him and put him in a headlock. I felt ashamed. I didn’t even have the guts to throw a rock at him. Well, we all have regrets in life.
Regardless, I may not be a Jersey girl, but I still love the state. My friends there are real friends, and I’m not just saying that because I’m frightened of them, especially Cindy. So what if a few rabbis, public officials, cops and mayors got arrested in the fifth-smallest state? It could happen anywhere. As my friend Jane would say, “Yous need to fugget about it.”
COMMENTS:
-- From Jersey Jane: "You misquoted me. It should read, "Yous need to fugget about it you morons."
And HOW could you write such a glowing article about NJ and fail to mention our favorite son: Jim "I am a gay American" McGreevey? You disappoint me, you moron."
-- You forgot to ask, "You from Jersey? What exit?"
~Ron
-- BTW - more profound polls please. Especially if they use European spelling, as in "colour."
Favourably,
~AJR
-- I think NJ is a great state. It's so tiny and inferior that I don't have to hear about its problems. Its sports teams are also really bad, so my favorite teams always beat them. That's why I like NJ.
~Tim
-- I was unable to locate your unextensive playlist. However, Lady Gaga started vocalizing about playing cards and being one crazy girl while I was trying to discern your anti-Jersey comments. Is she part of your musical repetoire?
~AJR
-- Apparently, I was not scroll-happy enough. I have now located the musak portion of this blog. Poker Face happens to be one of Riley's favorite songs....the video does have two huge dogs in it after all.
~AJR
Jackie's comment: Sure, whatever you say, crazy person. I love dogs too.
<>
Jul 23, 2009
Facebook or Satan's Playground?
I was talking to some friends at a party a few weeks ago when the hostess took me aside and asked me if I was on Twitter. On Twitter?!! The nerve! I threw my glass of soda in her face and told her I’ve never done drugs in my life. What an accusation!
Later that day, my kids explained that Twitter was a social messaging site on the computer. They said there are similar sites called Facebook and My Space.
The whole thought of someone communicating with others on a computer for social purposes seems ridiculous to me. If it was actually possible, wouldn’t it be awfully nerdy to sit at the computer talking to people you can’t see all day? Maybe shut-ins and hired assassins would have reason to do it, but certainly not teens or members of Generation X! And the claim that you can talk to lots of people simultaneously seems preposterous. Anyone who says you can type a message and hit one button to send it to over five people at a time is an outright liar. I’d stake my reputation on that – or so I thought. In the back of my mind, though, I knew I’d have to do some further investigating.
I began my quest at the nursing home where our family volunteers. Millie, the wisest woman I know, lives there. She was celebrating her 95th birthday when I asked what she knows about social networking sites on the Internet. She told me that all social networking tools and websites are part of a satanic cult! Millie met President Calvin Coolidge in her youth, so I believe her. Millie’s words scared me. I don’t want to be involved with Satan! I don’t know about you guys, but in my family, we don’t even like Satan. In fact, we have a sign painted above the inside of our front door that says, “Live, laugh, love” and then, on the adjacent wall, another painted sign reads, “We hate Satan.”
If Millie is right, our family was in danger. “Why did we buy the kids 13 computers this past Christmas?” I asked myself. But this wasn’t a time for regrets. It was a time for action. I invited my priest, Daniel, to dinner and asked him to bless our computers. He blessed them and doused them with holy water, rendering 11 of them useless and mistakenly electrocuting my son, whose hands were on one computer's plug and an electrical outlet at the time. Roberto was electrocuted only a little bit, but whined and cried like a school girl, despite still having full use of both legs. Both the priest and I told him to act like a man. Anyway, I am getting off track.
I needed to investigate more in order to give you some advice. I advise from direct experience, not just hearsay. For example, when my sons were little, I didn’t just tell them not to cross the street without looking both ways -- I showed them what I meant. Without looking, I ran into the street in front of my house as my neighbors were driving home from work. Although I sustained severe injuries, it was worth it. My kids now had practical knowledge and, more importantly, they learned that they can trust whatever I say. My method is so effective that one son is 17 now and never crosses the street. Another son is 15, and he doesn’t even leave the house. Of course, he’s developed crazy fears about the outside world, but that’s probably due to the influence of public schooling.
Anyway, the next step was for me to actually get on Facebook. I said a prayer and then created an account. I was armed with Bible passages to keep evil influences away. What I discovered will blow your mind. Facebook is an absolute delight! It turns out that Facebook isn’t a cult and Satan isn’t involved. The site is wonderful. I posted a status, and then people wrote back to me. I already have THREE friends, a testament to my immediate popularity.
So I take back what I said earlier. I now fully endorse the site and feel confident that I can speak for President Coolidge in saying that if he were alive and used a computer with an Intel processor, he would endorse Facebook too. So go ahead and create an account, and search for me, Jackie Phillips. I’ve posted a picture of my dog on the account so that you’ll recognize that it’s me. Put in a friend request, and I’ll befriend you, if that is the correct technical term.
As for Twitter and My Space, however, I have NOT tested those sites, so please DO NOT use them until further notice. I cannot assure you that they are Satan-free. My friends, Jill and Carole, have encouraged me to get on Twitter, which makes me distrust the site even more.
You’re probably thoroughly confused now. Twitter . . . Facebook. . . which is ok? Let’s make this as simple as possible. Just remember the acronym FUP, which means Facebook is Undeniably Pleasant. Twitter and My Space, on the other hand, are “Potentially Satanic – Do Not Use” or PSDNU (pronounced “Sudnew” because the P is silent). FUP and PSDNU should help you keep these lessons organized. Have a great day and remember to think outside the blog.
Jackie
<>
COMMENTS: This post was so funny!!! You're the best Jackie, whoever you are lol. ~ Kaydia
Later that day, my kids explained that Twitter was a social messaging site on the computer. They said there are similar sites called Facebook and My Space.
The whole thought of someone communicating with others on a computer for social purposes seems ridiculous to me. If it was actually possible, wouldn’t it be awfully nerdy to sit at the computer talking to people you can’t see all day? Maybe shut-ins and hired assassins would have reason to do it, but certainly not teens or members of Generation X! And the claim that you can talk to lots of people simultaneously seems preposterous. Anyone who says you can type a message and hit one button to send it to over five people at a time is an outright liar. I’d stake my reputation on that – or so I thought. In the back of my mind, though, I knew I’d have to do some further investigating.
I began my quest at the nursing home where our family volunteers. Millie, the wisest woman I know, lives there. She was celebrating her 95th birthday when I asked what she knows about social networking sites on the Internet. She told me that all social networking tools and websites are part of a satanic cult! Millie met President Calvin Coolidge in her youth, so I believe her. Millie’s words scared me. I don’t want to be involved with Satan! I don’t know about you guys, but in my family, we don’t even like Satan. In fact, we have a sign painted above the inside of our front door that says, “Live, laugh, love” and then, on the adjacent wall, another painted sign reads, “We hate Satan.”
If Millie is right, our family was in danger. “Why did we buy the kids 13 computers this past Christmas?” I asked myself. But this wasn’t a time for regrets. It was a time for action. I invited my priest, Daniel, to dinner and asked him to bless our computers. He blessed them and doused them with holy water, rendering 11 of them useless and mistakenly electrocuting my son, whose hands were on one computer's plug and an electrical outlet at the time. Roberto was electrocuted only a little bit, but whined and cried like a school girl, despite still having full use of both legs. Both the priest and I told him to act like a man. Anyway, I am getting off track.
I needed to investigate more in order to give you some advice. I advise from direct experience, not just hearsay. For example, when my sons were little, I didn’t just tell them not to cross the street without looking both ways -- I showed them what I meant. Without looking, I ran into the street in front of my house as my neighbors were driving home from work. Although I sustained severe injuries, it was worth it. My kids now had practical knowledge and, more importantly, they learned that they can trust whatever I say. My method is so effective that one son is 17 now and never crosses the street. Another son is 15, and he doesn’t even leave the house. Of course, he’s developed crazy fears about the outside world, but that’s probably due to the influence of public schooling.
Anyway, the next step was for me to actually get on Facebook. I said a prayer and then created an account. I was armed with Bible passages to keep evil influences away. What I discovered will blow your mind. Facebook is an absolute delight! It turns out that Facebook isn’t a cult and Satan isn’t involved. The site is wonderful. I posted a status, and then people wrote back to me. I already have THREE friends, a testament to my immediate popularity.
So I take back what I said earlier. I now fully endorse the site and feel confident that I can speak for President Coolidge in saying that if he were alive and used a computer with an Intel processor, he would endorse Facebook too. So go ahead and create an account, and search for me, Jackie Phillips. I’ve posted a picture of my dog on the account so that you’ll recognize that it’s me. Put in a friend request, and I’ll befriend you, if that is the correct technical term.
As for Twitter and My Space, however, I have NOT tested those sites, so please DO NOT use them until further notice. I cannot assure you that they are Satan-free. My friends, Jill and Carole, have encouraged me to get on Twitter, which makes me distrust the site even more.
You’re probably thoroughly confused now. Twitter . . . Facebook. . . which is ok? Let’s make this as simple as possible. Just remember the acronym FUP, which means Facebook is Undeniably Pleasant. Twitter and My Space, on the other hand, are “Potentially Satanic – Do Not Use” or PSDNU (pronounced “Sudnew” because the P is silent). FUP and PSDNU should help you keep these lessons organized. Have a great day and remember to think outside the blog.
Jackie
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COMMENTS: This post was so funny!!! You're the best Jackie, whoever you are lol. ~ Kaydia
Jun 22, 2009
Layoffs Abound
My husband was laid off from his job recently. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, the unemployment rate rose to 9.4% in the month of May.
I’m not one to turn the attention to myself, but I was laid off once, and it was a very shocking experience. I was completely blindsided by it. I remember how it happened. My good friend/boss called me into his office and, me being naïve, I figured he was just chatting with me or showing me that day’s cartoon from his Dilbert calendar. But as I walked in, I saw that his face was serious and his expression pained. I wondered if it was a health issue. I asked him if he was ok. “I’ve got bad news,” he responded. “Corporate has been tightening our belts, and some positions have been eliminated in our company.”
“Oh my goodness!” I empathized. “I can’t believe they’ve cut your job!” I was dense. I started to offer my sympathy when it clicked in my brain that it was me, not him. Once his words registered, everything began to happen in slow motion. “Whaat? I’m laaaid oooooffffffff? Wheeennnnn?” I was incredulous. The room started to spin. How could this be? I’m Jackie, I thought. Nothing bad happens to me.
Random images and recollections flashed in my brain. . . the lunar landing, “One giant step for mankind,” . . . the theme song from Gilligan’s Island (the version where they sing “and the rest,” not “the Professor and MaryAnn” version), . . . the part of Star Wars when Darth Vadar tells Skywalker, “Luke, I am your father.” It was too much to bear all at once!
Within seconds, disbelief quickly gave way to reality and the fight-or-flight instinct took over. My martial arts background made the former my immediate reaction. Within two seconds, my boss had two black eyes, a dislocated shoulder, and a groin injury. I then surprised myself by unleashing a stream of unexpected obscenities that I heard on South Park on TV the night before.
What happened even after that was a blur. I know there was crying, biting, and I remember seeing a goat flying through the air in the office. When the incident was over, the goat was hiding behind a chair, and my battered boss tried to muster a sympathetic, understanding smile. He told me he’d take me to lunch in a few days. I apologized for the assault and attempted to make amends by petting the frightened goat. I threw a half-eaten Baby Ruth bar on the chair for him as a peace offering.
Though my head cleared later, I couldn’t figure out why the goat was present at the layoff, but when I called my old work number by mistake a few days later, I was taken aback to hear bleating on the other side of the phone. I should’ve known my boss was already grooming my replacement! And to think I shared a Baby Ruth with that goat!
My husband’s layoff was not a giant surprise, and no goat was present. Joe’s reaction to his layoff was different from mine -- very methodical and level-headed. He was upset at first, but like a machine, he generated resumes, made phone calls, and contacted the unemployment office. He has a routine he follows every day to look into new leads, make calls to old contacts, etc. It’s a wait-and-see game for us.
I don’t have a good stomach for such games, but Joe has his fail-safe backup plan of becoming a male stripper or male model if nothing happens in another month or so. He’s amazing!
The children are chipping in by waking at the crack of dawn and panhandling in front of the neighbors’ garages each morning. When the neighbors leave for work, the children let themselves in their houses and bring us food and clothing. They never steal valuables, however. That kind of behavior is beneath us.
I too have a back-up plan, unbeknownst to the family. I have taken all the money we have in savings and in the kids' college funds and bought TV network time at 8:30 p.m. on the 4th of July. I’m going to have a telethon to raise money for our family. It’s ingenious! I've contracted the most popular celebrities who appeared on The Love Boat and Fantasy Island. These celebrities have great draw and somehow they all cleared their busy schedules and agreed to put on a variety show/telethon to raise money for our cause.
According to my calculations, in that single half hour (which will preempt the fireworks), we’ll raise enough money to live off of, to send the kids to college, and even to take a trip to Europe! I’m so excited. I am hoping my husband won’t discover that I’ve depleted our bank accounts and savings before the 4th of July. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.
When I think of myself and all my wonderful attributes, I’d say creativity is one of my greatest strengths. I must also give credit to Abe Lincoln, whose words at his inauguration have inspired me. He said, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade,” and that’s just what I intend to do. Remember to tune in on the Fourth of July and send money.
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I’m not one to turn the attention to myself, but I was laid off once, and it was a very shocking experience. I was completely blindsided by it. I remember how it happened. My good friend/boss called me into his office and, me being naïve, I figured he was just chatting with me or showing me that day’s cartoon from his Dilbert calendar. But as I walked in, I saw that his face was serious and his expression pained. I wondered if it was a health issue. I asked him if he was ok. “I’ve got bad news,” he responded. “Corporate has been tightening our belts, and some positions have been eliminated in our company.”
“Oh my goodness!” I empathized. “I can’t believe they’ve cut your job!” I was dense. I started to offer my sympathy when it clicked in my brain that it was me, not him. Once his words registered, everything began to happen in slow motion. “Whaat? I’m laaaid oooooffffffff? Wheeennnnn?” I was incredulous. The room started to spin. How could this be? I’m Jackie, I thought. Nothing bad happens to me.
Random images and recollections flashed in my brain. . . the lunar landing, “One giant step for mankind,” . . . the theme song from Gilligan’s Island (the version where they sing “and the rest,” not “the Professor and MaryAnn” version), . . . the part of Star Wars when Darth Vadar tells Skywalker, “Luke, I am your father.” It was too much to bear all at once!
Within seconds, disbelief quickly gave way to reality and the fight-or-flight instinct took over. My martial arts background made the former my immediate reaction. Within two seconds, my boss had two black eyes, a dislocated shoulder, and a groin injury. I then surprised myself by unleashing a stream of unexpected obscenities that I heard on South Park on TV the night before.
What happened even after that was a blur. I know there was crying, biting, and I remember seeing a goat flying through the air in the office. When the incident was over, the goat was hiding behind a chair, and my battered boss tried to muster a sympathetic, understanding smile. He told me he’d take me to lunch in a few days. I apologized for the assault and attempted to make amends by petting the frightened goat. I threw a half-eaten Baby Ruth bar on the chair for him as a peace offering.
Though my head cleared later, I couldn’t figure out why the goat was present at the layoff, but when I called my old work number by mistake a few days later, I was taken aback to hear bleating on the other side of the phone. I should’ve known my boss was already grooming my replacement! And to think I shared a Baby Ruth with that goat!
My husband’s layoff was not a giant surprise, and no goat was present. Joe’s reaction to his layoff was different from mine -- very methodical and level-headed. He was upset at first, but like a machine, he generated resumes, made phone calls, and contacted the unemployment office. He has a routine he follows every day to look into new leads, make calls to old contacts, etc. It’s a wait-and-see game for us.
I don’t have a good stomach for such games, but Joe has his fail-safe backup plan of becoming a male stripper or male model if nothing happens in another month or so. He’s amazing!
The children are chipping in by waking at the crack of dawn and panhandling in front of the neighbors’ garages each morning. When the neighbors leave for work, the children let themselves in their houses and bring us food and clothing. They never steal valuables, however. That kind of behavior is beneath us.
I too have a back-up plan, unbeknownst to the family. I have taken all the money we have in savings and in the kids' college funds and bought TV network time at 8:30 p.m. on the 4th of July. I’m going to have a telethon to raise money for our family. It’s ingenious! I've contracted the most popular celebrities who appeared on The Love Boat and Fantasy Island. These celebrities have great draw and somehow they all cleared their busy schedules and agreed to put on a variety show/telethon to raise money for our cause.
According to my calculations, in that single half hour (which will preempt the fireworks), we’ll raise enough money to live off of, to send the kids to college, and even to take a trip to Europe! I’m so excited. I am hoping my husband won’t discover that I’ve depleted our bank accounts and savings before the 4th of July. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.
When I think of myself and all my wonderful attributes, I’d say creativity is one of my greatest strengths. I must also give credit to Abe Lincoln, whose words at his inauguration have inspired me. He said, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade,” and that’s just what I intend to do. Remember to tune in on the Fourth of July and send money.
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