Jesco can be three people. He is Jesse, he is Jesco, and he is Elvis. Jesse is the most beautiful man that I could have ever loved. But Jesco, he's somebody else. He's the devil in hisself."
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Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Emily Posting It
So today was Papa Stock's birthday. When I called him to wish him well, I got his answering machine. Which of course, somehow within the course of the message conjures up words such as agitation, pretentious, obnoxious, pompous, affected and so on; how you may ask... Perhaps it is because the message is like 2 minutes long and includes a poem.
Now, I know what you're thinking, J-Rock, your father is a bumbling old funny man who sits around composing poetry to leave on his machine to brighten up your day, you cold, cold bitch. Please bear in mind that while you may imagine a cutesy:
We're not here, we're drinkin' beer!...this it was not. Nuh-nuh-no, this was a three-stanza poem invoking feelings of contemplation, reflection and boozy Irishness....
We're eatin' a snack, we'll be right back!
Yes, I said Irishness, my father is a Jew with Irish covetousness; he has a beard, wears cable knit sweaters, and drinks whiskey while reading Joyce and playing The Chieftains until either the neighbors complain or he is so wasted that he burns the potatoes and hallucinates leprechauns. I kid you not, so shut up. The entire joke that is my last name is based on this scenario... but I digress.
At least Papa Stock has an answering machine; he does not have a cellular phone. He was remiss to switching from rotary until it actually cost more to keep the relic. When asked why he does not possess modern conveniences, Papa Stock shakes his hand at the sky and bellows You can't control me with your satellite messages. I know where you live Stuyvesant!"
He then lifts a rock from the ground and tries lamely to heft it at the Empire State building. It quickly falls to the ground with a thud, as we are not lifting people.*
I know this is like totally beating a dead horse, and this was totally over in the 90's but this is my Dad. Someone finds this cute and endearing. I see it as the root of what is deeply wrong with me.
Answering machines, or voicemail outgoing messages should can say anything you want, but they shall be no longer than 10 seconds. We'll call this, "The 10 second rule," this also applies to the incoming message, unless it involves important details, such as directions, or when and how often to take the antidote.
There shall be no apologizing, no I am sorry, I am not here right now No you're not! Shut up, these are unnecessary words and take seconds away from my life, that I will never have back, which I am still desperate to recover after watching Wicker Park.
Suffice it to say I can't take your call right now. No, don't even say that, I already know that, otherwise you would be taking my call and I would talking to you.
There shall be no music, unless it is unintentional background noise; no intro guitar solo crap from Yngwie Malmsteen. This is neither cute, nor ironic. This will make me hate you, and I will quickly lose your number.
I hate you now, why are you even reading this? Who cares. I give up. I am now totally bored with this subject.
I made my father change his message. I yelled at him and said I would never call him again if I had to listen to that crap ever again.
Now I am sounding like a cruel bitch, but have I mentioned that my father had had this message for seven years!?!
* We are not lifting people, nor are we fighting people. We are a cruel, fragile yet beautiful people. We have secretly scoliotic spines, and oblongesque astigmatisms; but oh how our delicate features are accentuated by glasses, we are lilth** and frail, rugged yet pale. We are smart and funny, we glow, we glisten, we were also teased mercilessly as children, and now exact our revenge with our extreme attractiveness. You see my friend, I come from a long line of draft dodgers, and eccentricities, my father is right at home amongst this circus of which I call my family.
** While I recently became aware that "lilth" is not technically a word, I think you'll agree that it should be, and that its meaning is clear from the context above.
** While I recently became aware that "lilth" is not technically a word, I think you'll agree that it should be, and that its meaning is clear from the context above.
Posted 10:27 AM by J.Ro
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Okay, I Am Totally Posting This All Over The Place
Cue Theme From Greatest American Hero.
Unfortunately I fear by posting this, I am somehow jinxing something.
I also just want to say "Vote or Die," is a really stupid slogan, like the ballot, is dusted with the antidote to the Ebola-AIDS that they're going to be spraying midnight EST when the CA polls close.
Because I always vote, (even in the primarys you jerks.) I have to go serve jury duty tomorrow!
Usually I think this kind of thing is very personal, but because of the Electoral College, I am leaving the party. That statement totally brings to mind images of keggers and frats, sorry dude. I want my vote to count for something.
Oh, and...
FUCK YOU NADER!
I just have to say, if you vote for Nader, the terrorists will have won.
Posted 1:29 PM by J.Ro