Category Archives: being annoying

The Cough, a horror story.


Warning, this is gross.  Not quite as gross as that time I accidentally Carried my sex buddy, but if this story becomes a stage show, you’re definately going to want to stay out of the splash zone in the first few rows. 

Can I offer you one of my ..... tissues?

Getting over a nasty little cold has left me with a particularly bad Cough.  To understand why I’ve capitalized the C in cough, you have to understand that this is not the bodily function of the politely dying Victorian consumptive, this is more like a pull start motor in the throes of an exorcism.  From flubber demons.

"You're my new mommy!"

My Cough demands attention, and a certain begrudging respect.  Strangers stop and say “Woah.”  And then often cross themselves, scoot away and start googling “death rattle” on their phones.  My cat won’t have anything to do with me, she just hides and dreams of better days when I didn’t hack thunderclaps at her.  A trash truck driver actually stopped his work to look around for what the ruckus was.

"Do you hear something?"

And now that I’m moving through what my friend Helena politely calls the “expecterant phase,” it’s gotten messier.  And she’s pretty much the only person willing to be around me during it, bless her heart.  For her trouble, she and two of her unsuspecting friends got to witness the following this morning.

We’re driving and I start to feel the cough tickle come on.  It sounds and feels like a tick-tick-tick in my chest because I’m breathing through a film of semi-gelatized snot.  Once I start coughing, I have to finish, I have to hack it up or I feel like I’m going to choke on it.  (I did warn you this was going to be gross.)  I start hacking and my leg starts twitching like a dog getting it’s belly rubbed and then it ends with me with a mouthful of demon-snot.  I can feel it’s firmer consistancy floating in my salivia.  I’m out of tissues in my purse, so I try to sidetalk out of one side of my mouth with the debris and various Cough shrapnel floating in the other, “are your windows up back there in the back seat and does anyone mind if I spit out the window?”

They don’t so much agree as realize they have no real good choices here and say, “um sure?”  I roll down my window and wind up for the pitch but get firmly checked by the seatbelt’s shoulder strap.  I recoil and make a second windup but the whole missile launch has already been thrown dangerously offbalance.  In that slow-mo that only bad memories come in, I realize that it lacks the critical OUMPH! but there is no return. 

It's too late to take lessons.

I fall back into my seat with snot and salvia streaming across my right check and tendrils extending into my hair.  “Babies spit up more effectively than that,” I offer feebly.   A hand extending from the backseat, belonging to a girl I’ve just met moments before (and probably never again, now) offers me two crumpled Rubios napkins.  I realize that most of the damage is to the shoulder of my own top, where I’ve Jackson Pollocked a fist-sized green and yellow painting of my viral illness.

Not that I'm suggesting he's anything less than a genius.

I hear the two girls in the back seat discuss the contents of the one girl’s purse, from whence the napkins came, probably because they’re desperate to distract themselves from the horror of what they’ve just seen.

I continue to take stock of the damage.  One ambitious bit of snot has broken my body’s gravity and streaked away like a green comet of nasty across the back passenger side window.  This is now the view of a nice girl named Cynthia, whom I barely know.

But with a daytime background.

 At least I made sure that window was UP?  Small saving graces, I guess.

“That pretty much could not have gone worse.”

We arrive at my destination and I offer goodbyes.  “Ok, thanks and can we not talk about my harffing a snotball all over everything?”

………………. Silence.

“No,” I continued.  “That was so bad that I think it enters the realm of funny and we must joke about it.” 

“Yes,” came the chorus from the backseat, as the final word on the subject.

A Little’s Enough


I wrote fan mail once and I mean like once in my whole life. 

I facebooked Tom Delonge from Angels & Airwaves (also Blink 182) and tried at first to NOT sound like a deranged teenager and then gave up because who cares?  I wrote about what his music had meant to me at an especially wounded time.  I went ahead and threw in a “you saved my life.”  I’d be more ashamed except I really truly meant it.

Secret Crowds

Everything’s Magic

Love Like Rockets

A Little’s Enough


As I was writing a chat window popped up and “Tom” asked me for my info to send me free tickets.  It was obviously a hacker, and I don’t recall whether I bothered to hit send on my email or not.

All that to say that as much as I like to think of myself as someone who holds her shit together around people who are celebrities, Tom Delonge was above and beyond.  If I met him?  Pregnant and out on rape charges.  That’s how that would go down.

This weekend I had a mild inner ear infection.  The kind that make you dizzy, really, really dizzy.  I spent my weekend on the couch crocheting.  I was feeling better today and in yoga pants I’d put on Friday night and never bothered to change, I took my bike up to the corner grocery store.  It’s important to have a visual of my wet hair, sequined tshirt with cat hair, and bike helmet.  I had about 18 items in my cart but since I’m in that store like every third day I know that the express lanes are often waiting and totally accepting of more items.  I have the decency to pretend to care when I start unloading my items onto the counter. 

“I hope they don’t count past 15,” I mutter to the tattooed elbow in the corner of my vision, just so I don’t seem like the bitch who ignores signs.  Rocket ship tattoos, it registers.  Really awesome rocke- HOLYSHIT.




HOLYSHIT.  I know who that is.  I glance at the clock beyond his head.  Yep, that’s Tom Delonge.  I pretend to consult my blank wrist to the time on the clock.  Still very Tom Delonge.  Stop looking at a blank wrist.  Tom is buying groceries with his daughter Ava.  I am melting down while wearing cat hair, sequins and a bike helmet.  He’s attempting to do normal people things.  I’M attempting to do normal people things while watching him do normal people things.  Do not touch him.  DO NOT BURY YOUR FACE IN HIS TSHIRT AND CRY, VJ.  STOP MUTTERING THESE INSTRUCTIONS TO YOURSELF  TO YOURSELF UNDER YOUR BREATH HE MIGHT HEAR YOU.

He turns and looks at me.  I hope I wasn’t making strange strangled noises, I don’t think I was, but who really fucking knows?  His eyes meet mine and my face splits in an enormous smile and there was a moment of I-know-you-know-that-I-know-and-I-know-that-you-know-that-I-know and Ava said “Daddy!  something I didn’t catch.”



The cashier said “cash back?” and I stopped blinking. 
“That was Tom Delonge from Blink-182, you know.”
“Was it?”
“He’s kind of the only person that I don’t know that I totally care about.”
“You should catch him in the parking lot.  I’ll hold your stuff.”
“No ……. I don’t think I could do any better with words.”

Gosh, even Cash Cab lets you have one Phone-A-Friend.


I was waltzing into the grocery store the other night and yes, maybe I was actually waltzing.  It was 80 degrees warm and I was happy.

This trim, bright-eyed thing asks me right before the doors, “can I ask you just two questions for my sociology thesis?”  The only possible answer to that in my polite, sunset-beach world is yes, yes of course!

“Yay!  Ok.  Which immigrant group has been most beneficial to the US?”

I smiled an indulgent smile.  She must have misspoke.  We don’t ask questions like that.

I got blank brightness and realized that was really her question.  I mean …. goodness.   I stammered a bit around the word “diversity,” but I can’t recall a single coherent thought I expressed so it’s no shock she wasn’t making notes.   Finally I threw out “Canadians!  My boyfriend is a Canadian and he’s totally my favorite.”  And then mentally facepalmed at hearing myself sound so, like totally smart.

“Ok.  Great.  So.  Which immigrant group coming to the US causes the most problems.  In your opinion.”


I checked back two or three times at her face this time, the same innocent expectance on her features.  I suppose I should have seen that question coming but ….. she really expected me to Answer That Question.  With Words.  There was some more stammering from me about diversity being inherently valuable but it was probably less coherent that the last time.  

She really wasn’t going to let me off the hook, and to walk away seemed like it was saying “screw you and education along with it!” 

I flashed on saying, “Duh, WHITE PEOPLE,” but it was clear she was referring to the modern nation, not the continent as a whole.  (Although in hindsight that answer still doesn’t seem to be …. incorrect.)  So I flubbed out something about how our lack of understanding and appreciation for other cultures is really most often the problem.  Why, just for example I recently saw this video where muslims are gathering in LA to fundraise for local LA charities and they’re heckled by a bunch of  rednec……… oh shit, she’s going to take the short answer of what I said as “muslims.”


She nodded at my discomfort (finally!) but her pen was raising to her pad.  “I see,” she said.

As she wrote her lips seemed to mouth her words, “very uncomfortable,” and I can only PRAY her study wasn’t on American immigrants but on how retardedly silly white people are when they talk about it.

The Word.


Just the other day, I got this in the mail.

A letter all in Korean, and two fliers.  According to the pictures, they appeared to be literature on how not to be homeless, and how to domesticate brown bears.  Seriously, right there in the lower right, that little girl is patting a bear while her mother looks on.

Careful inspection shows an address on the back that belongs to the Jehovah’s Witness church.  This is either a mistake, or a prank.  I’m hoping prank.  (“Lola?”)

And it made me think of something.

About eight years ago I lived in an apartment at the end of a long hallway.  There we were, right next to an apartment with two guys, age 18 and 20.  Their girlfriends were 16 and 18.  At least four nights a week I’d have to wade through a hallway full of drunk (occasionally crying) high school girls, there for some party.  Being knee deep in impressionable young pussy didn’t stop either of these guys from knocking on the wall between us, calling out for sex.   We were friends, in a fashion, but their habits GOT OLD FAST.

One morning there was a knock on the door.  I checked my alarm clock (remember those?) and it was 7:30 am.  Slightly too late for the party twins.  I checked the peephole, saw a little kid, and opened it up. 

Classic bait move.  Jehovah’s Witnesses.  They said they’d like to share a scripture with me.  That always makes me chuckle because I’ve never met a missionary who’s more familiar with the Bible than me, much to their chagrin.  (HI JOEL!)  The whole book is so contradictory, and it’s like a ring in their nose, you can lead them in circles for your own amusement for hoursssssssssss.

And then one popped into my head.  Romans 12:19 says “Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written,* Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.”  *(This is, a reference to Deuteronomy 32:35, “To me belongeth vengeance and recompence; their foot shall slide in due time: for the day of their calamity is at hand, and the things that shall come upon them make haste.”)

Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.  I decided to take him up on his offer.

“Oh thanks guys.  I’m already a member of your church.  And I’m so glad you’re here.  The guys across the street, they’re really hostile at times but ….. the other night one of them was telling me that he’s really not sure where he’s going in life and ……… well, I shared some of the Word with him and he was upset that his roommate might find out but he really wanted to read more ….. I could really use a hand.  You just gotta ignore what they say, they really wanna hear this.  Could you guys put them on the list?”

“Oh!  Of course!  Thanks for spreading the good news with them!”

“Well of course.  Oh and ……….. the only time to catch them at home is really early in the mornings.”

“Got it.  God bless!”

“Oh, you too.  YOU TOO.”

I’m not sure if they got religion, or just the early morning wakeups got to them, but either way ……….. peace reigned in our building after that.

Need To Know


Bethany – “The front runner is now Ella.”

Valancy Jane – “Hm?”

Bethany – “For my sister’s baby.  They’re leaning towards the name Ella.”

Jesse – “Ella, ella, eh, eh, eh.

Valancy Jane – “You’d better call them back and warn them, that he’s going to do that, everytime they say Ella.”

Jesse – “Ella, ella, eh, eh, eh.”

One thing in these emails ISN’T a lie.


The Emperor to Jesse

Oh, man. I haven’t been to a party that good since my days as a Rho Omicron Omicron, and even then, we never had a bounce house or a jello pit in the living room (my only suggestion on this is: switch to lime, orange made the dwarf look like an Oompa Loompa). I’d also like to apologize for breaking your glass, but you KNOW how excited I get when the Humpty Dance comes on. The more I think about it, the more excited I get that I was a part of it. Also, the more I think about it, the more questions I have. Did that girl ever put your sheets back? Did she ever remember where she left her clothes? I know we found her panties in the wine cabinet, I’d wear gloves when opening the merlot. I’d still like to know what Jessica and Steve were up to when they came out of the bathroom and there was a map of Delaware on his chest in lipstick.

OH! I hope your dryer’s ok! That was a brilliant plan, though, using it to shake up sodas for the SDSU boys who showed up. Communications? That’s not a major and everyone knows it. And were those the poi firedancers from Oceanside? My ex tried to do a research paper on them, but they continually flaked on us every time we’d show up. I can’t believe they only left a few singed plants when that one guy dropped his. I’d never seen Rebecca run that fast EVER. She was like a gazelle running from a lion, which is impressive when you consider how many people were there. Speaking of, what did the cops say? They seemed NONE TOO PLEASED when the male strippers came as cops. While the Hot Cops and the REAL cops were chatting, I was able to hit up the petting zoo. Let people know that the goat likes to bite. I supposed I’ll need a new tuxedo T-shirt, but that’s fine. It’s not surprising that your sister was bogarting the pony and I’ve never seen a piglet doing beer bongs. Effing epic. My roommates and I will always remember the Portofino Party.

The Derailleur to Jesse

Last night, between the batches of macaroni and cheese boiling over
(luckily, Matt brought his dog to clean up that mess) and the largest
joint ever made contest, I lost my toothbrush. It has soft purple
bristles and is pink with sparkles.

Willow to Jesse

Hey Jesse,
Just wanted to say thanks for hosting such a rocking party last night.
My favorite part was the bearded lady. Not because of her beard but
because of the gobs of liquor she was able to down using just her
feet! Impressive! Let me know where you found her. I’d like to use her
at my next party.

My Homie in Marketing to Jesse

Dude! Kick-ass party last night. I have to say that when I walked in and saw the big sign saying “Donkey Raffle”, I had no idea what I was in store for. However, I had a fantastic time. I never thought that I could have that much fun in one of those bouncey houses, but I tell you what, never again will I drink and bounce. Not a good mix.
When my buddy and I were coming back in the cab (I left my car at your place, hope you don’t mind… we were a little drunk) he asked me who’s party it was again and then I realized that I’m not sure I saw you all night. I know I saw Sarah a couple of times, but not sure I ever said Hi to you, so I wanted to at least say thanks for the kick-ass party and you did a great job hosting it.
Next time though… I wouldn’t bring fire dancers. I thought that was a little much… and I doubt you’re going to get that burn mark to come out.
Thanks again, I’ll pick up my car today sometime.

Jonny Opinion to Jesse

Great party last night dude. Woke up this morning with a dildo in my ear – can’t tell you how long it’s been since that happened. That girl Melanie a friend of yours from work? She’s gotta be the sexiest one-eyed catholic topless trombonist in America. Man. Where the f**k you get an inflatable Obama anyway? On horseback as well lol! He’d make a great transvestite. Speaking of which, tried to upload some pictures I took from the bathroom sink onto flickr and facebook – both sites removed them within an hour – laying low in case they close either of my accounts. Oh and btw, I owe you one microwave, four blank CDs about 1/2 a liter of sunflower oil.
Later bro

Jadon to Jesse

Hello Jesse, hey thanks again if Sarah didn’t pass it on I guess you busy being a great host -Donkey raffle- ? Who would’ve thought?!?- That was worth wait’n for…. I needed to sober up anyways.
I was surprised the fire dancers could perform with in such close prox. to the crowd.
All do something MUCH smaller next month and your totally invited!!!

Jared to Jesse

Merry Christmas Jesse,
I just wanted to thank you again for your hospitality. I have to say, of all the Christmas Eve soirees I’ve attended, yours was, by far, the most spectacular! The fire-dancers out back were over the top, though I must admit I didn’t quite understand the bunny in the bathtub with a reindeer name. I’m so sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet you in person, I just couldn’t find you through the crowd. Either way, I’m sure you’re a hell of a guy extending invites to all your sisters friends like that!
I really hope the bouncy castle didn’t flatten the grass too much and if you need any suggestions for getting the wine stains out of the carpet, just let me know. I managed to convince them to keep the kegs in the garage, but you know how drunk girls can be with red wine… whoopsie!
You’re the best and I look forward to meeting you one day soon!!!
PS. You can definitely count me in for the New Years Eve party your sister mentioned! Mud wrestling and jello shots… I LOVE it!!!

Ikey to Jesse

Thanks for hosting this wikked party last night. I’ll be by to pick up my second place winnings from the donkey raffle. I couldn’t get the box through the crowds, as you can well imagine. Cheers!

Lisslo to Jesse

Jesse! That party was amazing last night. I can’t believe I didn’t see you once — I left at around 4 this morning when the cops were arresting the midget mud wrestlers who were dressed like Mr. and Mrs. Claus. Nice touch, by the way. Anyway, make sure you send me an invite to your next blowout, and I hope you’re having a Merry Christmas. I’m pretty sure I’m still tipsy from all of the eggnog!
Melissa (the one in the purple dress and jingle bell earrings)
P.S. Sorry about the lampshade. I really didn’t think the marbles would do that.

I guess you get the idea. I figure once Jesse gets home and finds out there wasn’t a home-trashing house party, he’ll be less pissed about the glass I broke.