Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Jade came back, Now I'm writing to Katie

Dear Katie,

Hi! How are you? How are things going with that man that you’re ignoring because that’s the rules of the game? Personally, I prefer “Settlers of Catan” where the rules are a little less vague and invariable.

One day I was walking to class and I found a fabulous stick. It was beautiful and had served its purpose well. I picked it up and walked to work with it. By the time I arrived at the Admin Building, I knew exactly what to do with it. I put it by Dr. Steckel’s door with a note that read: “Dear Dr. Steckel. This stick is for you to beat your students with when they are dumb. Love, Maaike.” Not too long after that I told Pablo about the stick and he wanted one. Eventually I found a stick that was good enough and dragged it to the third floor of the Admin building. Pablo was quite pleased and was soon using his stick to “herd” Monika down the hallways and around the office. Monika came to me asking for a stick. I found one for her that was just a tiny bit taller than she is. She put it by her desk and has since been left alone by Pablo. I have two sticks here at the apartment that I thought were fabulous and had to keep myself. Then I brought one home for Jade. Today I brought home another stick. This one is for Ben Stellmon. He wanted a stick and I’d seen this beautiful one laying on the “Hello Walk” for about five days. It’s the perfect stick for Ben. So, today I dragged it home. I was wondering how many people have seen me dragging sticks to and from the Administration Building and was curious as to if I’ve earned the name of “Crazy Stick Lady” among pedestrians and drivers of the campus.

Remember the story of the tighty-whities that I put on Jade’s monkey? Well, a couple of days after that I was getting ready for bed when I found them underneath my pillow! I folded them nicely and put them in Tennille’s drawer by her bed. She found them and laughed, and we’re all waiting to see where they’ll turn up next.

Ben Stellmon was telling us about a crazy lady in Russia that would talk in church and read letters that she got from God. “I got another letter from God today,” she’d say and read them to the congregation. Adam Stellmon said, “You only get letters? God sent me a bunt cake.” Those Stellmon brothers are a HOOT and a half. Ben is my sweetie. (Daniel’s my Squishy, Ben’s my Sweetie). But, although Ben is quite handsome I couldn’t marry him simply because of the fact that I love to sleep in PITCH BLACKNESS and he’s afraid of the dark. So, there goes another relationship.

There is someone I quite fancy. But, it seems that I’ve found more ways to piss him off than to endear him to me. I guess that’s a miss, too. I’m ever so pissed! (It must be true because I even dreamt that he told me to quit “cheesing him off”. I don’t know if it’s possible to actually “cheese” someone off, but that’s what I like to say; I guess that’s why it appeared in my dream.) I’d choose him over Angel any day (or Billy, or Vincent…etc. but don’t tell them. I know they’d be heart broken.). In fact, I had another dream in which Brad Pitt was madly in love with me, following me places, buying me fancy presents and all my girlfriends were so jealous…but I didn’t care because my heart belonged to the man I continually cheese. My Daddy told me once what my problem was. He said, “Maaike, you’re looking for someone just like me. They don’t exist. I am the only perfect man.” My Daddy’s a hoot.

Jamie Freeman used to make fun of me because I drove my car all around with the trunk filled with empty boxes. Don’t tell him, but I’m doing it again. Since my job ends in May, and my apartment lease is up in May and I don’t really know what I’m doing or where I’m going after that, I figured I’d need some packing boxes. Sherill’s been giving me some great ones so I just drive them around in my car.

Speaking of Sherill the funniest thing happened at work on Thursday. The satellite television wasn’t picking up anything and Joan was trying to record some French programs for her class. Sherill and Joan worked on it for a few minutes then Joan went off to see if the TV in the other room was still working. I was turning off the computers when I heard Sherill start laughing. “I just did a Fonzi” she said. I looked at her then up at the TV. It was working perfectly. “Did you hit it?” I asked. “Yep” she said, “just like Fonzi. But don’t tell Joan.” She cracks me up.

I got an email from Jeff Beck that made me giggle. I have to share it with you.

Yes, I think you could say that I am getting more settled into things here in Wyoming. It has been cold the past couple of weeks. It snows, but not much usually. I am going to apply for yet another faculty position at Oregon State University. I am looking forward to that. Someday I am going to land that dream job and then I will stick with it, buy my dream home, and eventually I may be cremated. I know that sounds morbid, but I do think about death from time to time and how I would like to be disposed.

The truth is I miss Jeff. He’s such a riot. Christina, Nathan, Jeff and I all went out to Chinese once and Jeff told the funniest story about capturing squirrels here on campus. He did this “evil squirrel” impersonation that Christina and I still laugh about. Just imagine Jeff pretending to be a squirrel, holding the bars of the cage with his little squirrel hands. Now add an angry grimace and a very evil—yet entirely squirrelly—“GRRRR” sound. I miss that Jeffy!

My goal of drowning myself in “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Angel” is working, but not to the best extent. I’ve been finding myself too busy to watch it. The funniest thing happened on one episode, however; there was this vampire from the 70’s dancing all these dances that were totally dated. He started doing one called “The Sprinkler” which I first saw performed LIVE in the living room of someone I promised I wouldn’t tell that he did the dance. I started laughing SO HARD! It’s funny how the first time you experience something it’s always associated with that person forever and ever. Like sex. (Oh, can I use that word in a letter from one Mormon to another? Maybe I should spell it out so not everyone knows that I just said S-E-X.)

By the way, SEX is worth 12 points in Scrabble. And worth $1.98 from certain sorority girls—Oh! One day I was driving with Skeeter (Stephen Cleverly) and there was this girl wearing a very short skirt, some FM shoes and a shirt that was almost just a bra. I looked at her and said, “Take me home for $1.98.” To which Skeeter replied, “Hey! I’ve got three bucks!”

Pablo just walked in…and stared at the computer screen—maybe he was hoping to find his name there. Remember the Pablo-induced Drama of last year? Boy, I sure do. I promised myself that that was the LAST time I’d give my heart to a Libra (BP being the first Libra—you knew there’d have to be a mention of the Passey somewhere in my letter, right?). I’ve had a trauma or two with Cancers and Geminis and some Aries, too. I’ll soon run out of Zodiac signs and have to date men only born on other planets. But I guess if we take into consideration the variations of Western Zodiac with Chinese Zodiac I could go through a whole slew of men before I find the right combination. BUT, remember, the palm-reader said that I’d have my heart broken seven times before I find my “true” love (To BLAVE). However, she didn’t tell me that number seven was going to break my heart more than once. Does that move him up to eight and the palm reader was wrong? Or does he stick around as seven and just get a gold star in “Heart-breaking”. (Email from Kylie: You are so fabulous that one time making you cry is too many!) Hmm. Maybe I need a second palm reader’s opinion. One that doesn’t look at all the lines in my hand and say, “I think you’re schizophrenic.”
That reminds me…other planets, that is. I dreamt last night that the earth was invaded by Robot-Skeleton-Clowns. HOLY CRAP they were terrifying!! I’d joined the military to help save the earth. (In my dream I was a man, but I was still very much attracted to men, so I guess I was a gay man—thank heavens for that “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy they’ve got now.) Anyway, upon the initial invasion of the earth all other military personnel were killed other than my lieutenant and me. And I was subsequently crushed by a giant falling boulder. The doctors replaced all of my bones with metal…the upside was that whenever I punched anyone it hurt them very, very much! My lieutenant and I decided to free the “nice” prisoners from jail to help us fight the Robot-Skeleton-Clowns but the guards of the prison were unwilling to let them out. So we had to fight them too. There was this one guard that was about seven feet tall. When my lieutenant walked up to him the man just towered above my normal sized lieutenant. I just looked at the other guards and said, (about the seven-foot tall guy) “He’s gonna get his ass kicked.” And my lieutenant did thoroughly kick his ass. (I’d like to quit typing “My Lieutenant” over and over, but other than his rank I have no idea who he was—he wasn’t anyone from my real life either. The only real-life participant in this particular dream was Jade who was eating a box of hard-boiled egg-yolks for the protein.) Then three football players—dressed in long white skirts—ran by trying to escape the Robot-Skeleton-Clowns. We tried to get the prisoners to enlist in helping to save the earth, but they didn’t care. In my dream I remember thinking that although my lieutenant and I were going to fight to the end; it was going to be a fruitless battle. Poor earth. (“But I am le tired!”)

Speaking of my dreams…after I did the Feng Shui thing I stopped having angry dreams. But I also stopped dreaming full-stop. I love my dreams. They’re so very entertaining. Anyway, I got a bit fed up with my art being all over the floor, and people mushing it when they’d sit in my chair to talk to me, that I put it all back under my bed. Then the dreams started again. I’m happy.

This morning I made my bed. (Doesn’t happen often at all—I learned that from my Daddy. He figured, “why make a bed, you’re going to get right back into it and then you have to untuck it all for your feet again!” He’s right.) Because I made my bed Eddie-Phil couldn’t sleep all day. I asked him what he wanted to do. He wanted Piggy to come over. So I went to Jade and asked if Piggy was free for the day. So Eddie-Phil and Piggy are sitting on my nicely made bed wearing their so cute sweaters and talking about how loving Jade and I are to them.

Last night I had a “date” with Gabe Zimmerman. It’s funny I always wondered what it would be like to be on a date with him. The reason “date” is in quotation marks is because he was supposed to be my date for dinner, but didn’t show up until everyone else had left (but Katie and Damon) no one saw that he was my date. So, I figured it’s like all the imaginary dates I’ve been on before.

Speaking of imaginary…I was talking to Randy on Tuesday evening (well, actually crying to him more than talking) and then I told him I had to go because Jade and Ben had just arrived and I’d promised Ben that I’d stay awake long enough to talk to him. Randy said, “These are real people, right?” and I said that they were. He said, “Next time have them make noises in the background so I’ll know they’re real. Actually, have them call you by name so I’ll know you’re not just standing in the mall.” What a nut. I left my room and went to the living room. Ben gave me a hug. It helped. But it still doesn’t prove to Randy that he exists. I think I’ll have to start taking pictures of these people. Maybe a picture of them with me, so that Randy doesn’t think I just took random pictures of people at the mall.

Um...I have a confession to make. Yesterday I bought a Dr. Pepper. I’m trying not to drink it because I know it’s bad for me...and one of the main contributing factor to the size of my thighs (my ass is fabulous, as we all know—I mean, I’m not called “the heart-shaped butt girl” for nothing!). But that’s not what I’m confessing. Yesterday I threw a half a bottle of Dr. Pepper into the trash at work. I was proud of myself for at least only drinking half. Well, this morning when I got to work I was feeling a bit...well, ooky. I really wanted a Dr. Pepper, but the machines only sell Pepsi products. So this morning: now here’s where the confession comes in, I took my discarded Dr. Pepper out of the garbage can and DRANK IT! I guess if I die tonight you’ll have something to tell the doctors. I guess you could also tell them that I’m a bevel short of plumb, too.

Man, this has been a boring day at work. I’ve been here for five hours and have helped three people. Oh, but I did get to take a screwdriver to the front row of desks and remove the front panel on six of them. That way, the students can’t cheat and look at each other’s papers, but I can look straight at them and know what they’re doing. EHEHEH! (Evil laugh, opposite of HEHEHE!) I also used some of the screws to fix the broken desk. I love taking things apart and putting them back together. I think I’ve missed my true calling as an auto mechanic.

Speaking of true callings…I have another strange confession to make. Luckily this one does NOT include a garbage can. You know I’ve applied for Grad school in the Dramatic Writing program. But, I’m afraid of something. All of my life I’ve been rather content seeing the different groups of people, (i.e. The Jocks, the Intelligentsia, the Goths, the Mollys, etc.) and being happily outside of them all and existing simply as Maaike, where, just like Tigger, “I’m the only one.” Anyway, my confession: I’m dreadfully afraid that hanging out with the theatre crowd I’ll find my niche! What if I’m meant to hang out with the drama crowd, coffee-sipping, black-clothes-wearing, self-expressing, emotionally-in-touch-with-ing crowd? What if I find out where I belong and start becoming the SAME. ACK! It’s one of the biggest things frightening me about going to grad school. I don’t want to fit in! Please, Mommy, don’t make me! I guess if I do start feeling like I’m fitting in I’ll just have to take to writing things on myself again to remind me that “I know something you don’t know!”

Is it wrong to wear a sports bra when one is not at that moment doing any sport? Since I need to do my laundry I had the choice this morning of wearing either a sports bra or an uncomfortable one. I chose the uncomfortable one because I thought I’d be betraying the purpose of the sports bra. So, what’s your opinion on this issue?

In my book of “2001 things to do before you die” I’m supposed to give someone a pedicure. I think I’ll cheat and give someone a foot massage. But whom? Who is 1) willing to let me touch their feet and 2) worthy to have me touch their feet? It’s almost as difficult a dilemma as the sports bra issue. I actually love giving massages…the man who eventually breaks down and earns that $20.00 from my Mom will find that he’ll get plenty of massages! I’ve always thought it would be fun when my husband got home from work to give him a few minutes to himself, then, after dinner, massage his feet while he told me about his day. Ah…that would be a wonderful moment to share with the man I love. (Ooh, I’m so mushy! A hopeless romantic (but not a Hopeless (capital H) one. I blame Jane Austen.)

Well, Katie, I’d better let you go. I hope you have a FABULOUS week.


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