Chat with Craig

Craig

hi

12:37pmMe

hi

12:38pmCraig

my friend told me 795-chat makes it sound like I'm trying to run a late night singles chat line.

haha

12:40pmMe

ha ha

yeah

true

12:40pmCraig

so I'm thinking about changing my number again

615-663-6673 is available

what do you think? easy to remember? or too many 6 and 3

12:43pmMe

we live in an era where people don't know any phone numbers. we just save them in our cell phones and dial a person by name. you are overthinking your number

12:44pmCraig

true, but that's what I do

so what do you think of the number?

12:45pmMe

it's fine. i don't know. i'm not good at remembering numbers unless it is 123 456 7890

12:45pmCraig

how about 615-one-nose

that's what it spells, haha

12:45pmMe

uh huh...

12:46pmCraig

so I could point at my nose and say "how many do I have"

12:46pmMe

:p

12:47pmMe

how about:

615-IMA-DORK

615-IMA-NERD

615-IMA-GEEK

ha ha ha

12:47pmCraig

I think I checked those already

Sunday Sermon Notes

There's nothing more riveting on a Sunday morning than a good old-fashioned "end of times" sermon.

70 Weeks Prophecy

Lisa Gilbert

(green ink on archival offering envelope)

10 (+) Year Old Valentine

Dear Annie,

Sorting through all of my old letters tonight, I ran across a stack of mail from my parents, which they had sent me while I was in boarding academy and college. A couple stood out above the rest.

One is a Valentine's Day card from February of 1997, when I was 17. It says:

"Daughter, our Valentine wish for you is the same as always... that Cupid will take aim at a well-mannered young gentleman with a good job who has nothing pierced or tattooed."

The funniest part of the card is what my Father wrote underneath:

"- and no sooner than 10 years from now!" Love Daddy

Thanks a lot, DADDY! And he wonders why he doesn't have any grandchildren yet! (Out of spite I've given him two more years than his request!)

Another highlight is a poem that my mother copied down for me in a letter. It reminded me of you!

It ever has been since time began,

and ever will be, till time lose breath,

That love is a mood- no more- to man,

And love to a woman is life or death.

- Ella Wheeler Wilcox 1850 - 1919

Love,

Taintedsky

Saturday Night Baker

Dear Annie,

This evening I found myself driving through an LAPD checkpoint.

"Ma'am, have you had anything to drink tonight?"

There are so many witty retorts I could have used:

"I wish."

"Not yet."

"You busy later?"

"Is it free drink night with the LAPD? I'll

take an Amaretto Sour."

But as the officer bent over and shined his flashlight on me, it was apparent by the look on his face that he did not require an answer. My corduroy pants, cleavageless shirt, messy hair and salivating mouth, made it obvious that I was a girl on a different sort of mission.

Operation: ACQUIRE CHOCOLATE

That's right, Christian girls don't drink. Instead, I sheepishly said "No," and drove on to the grocery store, where I had to suffer through the humiliation of a bag boy making fun of my ever so conspicuous shopping cart.

"Mmmm. Mmmm. Ghirardelli double chocolate brownies. You know you could get a Hershey's bar to go with this on aisle 4... or a nice carton of homogenized whole milk."

I informed him that the two pints of Häagen-Dazs accompanying my purchase would suffice.



Now it is midnight, and I have a whole batch of brownies sitting on my counter along with those pints of Vanilla and Amazon Valley Chocolate ice cream in my freezer (which I barely touched).

I think I have finished reading all three amusing posts on craigslist for the night, so now it is time to go to sleep.

MADE BROWNIES, CAN'T FINISH - 29 - (North Hollywood)

I made brownies tonight and there is no way I'll be able to eat them all by myself.

I'm a SWF, cute, intelligent, not fat (yet), looking for a kind, honest, Christian man who likes baked goods. If we have a connection, there may be room for seconds.

Must love ice cream.

No nuts.

Delectably Yours,
Taintedsky

To My Future Children

Dear Annie,

The only time I ignored a fire alarm, there was actually a fire.

This incident occurred at boarding academy one lazy afternoon, and it wasn't until I heard girls running through the hallway, screams, and doors slamming that I finally felt curious enough to see what the fuss was all about. I opened my door and the entire hall was filled with smoke.

“Huh.”

It wasn't my fault that I had ignored the alarm. I'll blame my dawdling on many years of fire drills in elementary school. The administration, for some reason, felt the need to train the students what to do in the event that there was a real fire. All it did, instead, was render us immune to the screeching sound and its intended warning.

The absolute worst drill in school was the one they set off for earthquakes. The noise it made was akin, perhaps, to a rebel yell: a wail both completely indescribable and terrifyingly chilling. It made my skin crawl. I don't understand the purpose of an earthquake alarm: do you really need to be notified that the ground beneath your feet is shaking violently?

Now that I think about it, my childhood was filled with apocalyptic warnings, mostly from my loving parents cautioning me weekly as to the trials and tribulations my future would hold if I did not heed their every word. My father used to tell me: “A foolish man learns from his own mistakes, a wise man learns from the mistakes of others.” But of course I didn't understand or listen to half of what they told me until it was too late. Only now am I learning to obey my mother when she gives me advice, and it is still tough, even at 29. When I'm struggling with potential life changing decisions, I have to call her repeatedly and let her brainwash me for hours on end so that I don't screw up my life. The sad truth of it is that she has never been wrong. Never.

Why is wisdom so counterintuitive?

A year or two ago I tried to create a YouTube video for my future children. I thought that perhaps my 15 year old daughter would rather listen to a semi-wizened 27 year old Lisa than to her painfully uncool, decrepit old mother (who uses words like "uncool"). I never posted the video because, after I edited it, I looked so old and boring in the thing that it depressed me.

So, I've decided that I shall write my sage advice here, instead.

Advice for My Future Children

One.
To a Daughter: Wait till you are at least 20 to start dating.

To a Son: Wait till you are at least 30 to start dating.

Two.
Daughter: Challenge yourself, have a myriad of hobbies. The sooner you figure out what your passion is and develop it, the better chance you have of turning it into a successful career.

Son: Don't play video games.

Three.
Daughter: Read lots of books by old dead guys.

Son: The word "tomorrow" is not spelled "tommarow." And please learn the difference between "your" and "you're."

Four.
Daughter: A certain kind of man will say anything to get whatever it is he wants from you. Yes, anything! He will tell you you are the most beautiful woman he has ever met, he will say he loves you, he will tell you you are the reason for which he exists if he thinks these words will help him accomplish his mission. And then, when he gets what he wants or you don't live up to his expectations, he will discard you like a used piece of rubbish. Run from a man who promises you the world.

Son: Contraceptives are not foolproof. Don't be a fool.

Five.
Daughter: Learn the art of femininity: how to dress, poise, etiquette. Wear dangling earrings, curl your hair, but don't put on too much make up - just enough will do.

Son: Brush your teeth.

Love,
Taintedsky

Amazing Grace

John Newton
(1725-1807)

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Then when we've first begun.

Unrequited

Dear Annie,

Everyone thought my first boyfriend was gay...

During my sophomore year of boarding academy, I had many suitors. Three of them declared their undying love for me in the same week, two wrestled each other with me as the intended prize and one chased me across campus.

I dated none of them.

Instead, I dated Jesse,* the weirdest freshman in school.

"Dude! Did you hear that Jesse has a girlfriend?"
"No way! I feel sorry for her."

It was true. Jesse was a bit... odd. He was highly intelligent, eloquent and magnetic. He loved literature and the arts. He was also so flamboyant that everyone just assumed he was gay. Jesse claimed it wasn’t true. In fact, I got to know him through my friend Heather, on whom he had a big crush. He did however love theater and the arts, wear makeup and there were rumors of him running around the boy's dormitory one night in hot pink polyester pants. It didn't matter to me. I was smitten. Eventually we began dating.

At times, I too, had my doubts about Jesse’s sexual orientation. He never cared to sit by me in church, we never kissed, and he even refused to hold my hand because, as he said, "our hands just don't fit together."

Jesse and I talked about books, philosophy and politics. Every night we walked around "the loop," which was a road encircling the entire campus. He told me that his mother used to date Bill Gates, and that he knew the guy personally. His parents were divorced and he much preferred his estranged father to his crazy mother. Jesse aspired to be a politician, seeing that he had connections with the higher-ups. He told me that he had been born in Essex, England, and that his mother had smuggled him back to the USA so that he could be a true US citizen.

On the last day of school, Jesse kissed me goodbye. It was my first kiss, and also the last time I saw Jesse. My parents shipped me off to Spain that summer, and even though I wrote to him every day, the only message he ever sent back was a short email letting me know that he was dying and had four months to live. He made up some name for his disease. My dad couldn't find it in any medical text book, and a phone call to his mother confirmed our suspicions. Almost every wild story Jesse ever told me was a lie. How very pathological of him.

I suppose when you are a 15 year old boy who wants to dump your overly devoted girlfriend, it is just as easy to tell her you are going to DIE. In retrospect, I was insanely obsessed, so we'll just give him the benefit of the doubt.

Jesse is still alive of course. He's since been married... and divorced. He smokes, drinks, is an atheist and a liberal.

I know, because I Google.

Love,
Taintedsky

*Names not changed to protect the almost gays.