Well, what do you know ... I've been rejected. Turned down. Kicked out. Told, in no uncertain terms, that I am not welcome wherever the hell it was that I was taken yesterday! Apparently my snide remarks about not wanting to be caught dead in that horrendous outift and my refusal to eat the chicken in white sauce that was served for lunch were not appreciated by the rest of the group.
I knew I was in even more trouble when, after "luncheon" (they couldn't just call it "lunch", could they?), we all had to congregate in some sort of activity room, sit in a circle, and introduce ourselves. One by one, we were to stand up, say our name, and then tell everyone what our particular "skill" was. Apparently everyone there is supposed to know how to do something "useful".
The first woman, a real beauty named Sharon, stood up, nervously tugged her sweater down over an ass that had seen way too much white sauce in its day, and then whispered, "I can fold bottom sheets just as perfectly as they are in the package." She sat down quickly and stared at her hands, which would not stop shaking. Her announcement was met with almost thunderous applause and a great deal of laughter. The woman to her left pulled her into a hug.
Another woman, this one named Mrs. Miller, proudly informed the group that her skill was making needlepoint samplers that included whimsical sayings. "The one most folks like best is the one that says 'Bless This Mess'," she said, much to everyone's delight.
When it was my turn, I stood up, mumbled a fake name, and announced my skill.
"I'm sorry, Clarissa, but Pilates is not a skill," the woman who appeared to be the group's "leader" said, completely unimpressed. "What we're looking for is something useful. Do you make potato salad? Refinish old furniture? Garden? Do you own a glue gun?"
I sat down and crossed my arms defiantly over my lighthouse sweater, cursing gently under my breath.
"All right," she continued, struggling to identify my skill. "Can you replace drawstrings when they make their way out of, say, a sweatshirt or yoga pants?
Little did she know that just that morning I had finally gotten around to replacing the drawstring that came out of a pair of my own yoga pants last month. (I used a straw.)
"No," I said, feigning disappointment. "I can't."
The door didn't even have time to hit my ass on the way out.
fresh-baked at 09:48 AMWhew! I'm back! I found that little tart from Kansas. She's on another bender. I ripped the ruby slippers off her eleven and a half EEE feet, put them on and clicked them three times. Son of a ... it worked!
Offered by: Mad Genius on November 8, 2002 4:45 PMJeez Thomas... it's just a story. Get over it.
Obviously people are free to like or dislike stuff about any website, but we don't need to start piling on the complaints like it's something you've paid good money for. At least she bothers to sit down and write something.
My own site's disclaimer states, "quite frankly, as you're getting this for free, you're in no position to complain."
I think the same applies for Because I Say So.
Offered by: Max on November 8, 2002 4:27 PMPersonally I felt the death story line was unbelievable.
I mean - ALL of your regular readers know that you're immortal Jodi. But thanks for trying relating to us common-folk.
It really means a lot.
[sniff]
Offered by: leo on November 8, 2002 12:49 PMSo wait...does this mean that you won't be able to serve as County Clerk?
Offered by: aaron on November 8, 2002 12:49 PMI enjoy YOU, Jodi, just not the prospect of you shedding this mortal coil.
And like anyone here would read a pamphlet, let alone a masterpiece, from my own hand. They're here to see the Ring Mistress of this circus, not the carnie running the "Pop the Balloon" game... (Although I DO have several stuffed animals that were manufactured in Korea)
Offered by: Thomas on November 8, 2002 12:20 PMMrs. Miller sounds just like my aunt. I bet they took you to the regular folks limbo, Jodi, and they're not ready for skills such as yours in there. Should have taken you to the classy, dressy, fashion diva's limbo, and still, you could have turned the place upside down!
Smart of you to keep quiet. See, if you'd said, say, "I can write", they'd put you down to writing the daily "luncheon" menu, or worse, maybe they'd have you penciling in name tags for everyone. Ugh. Glad to have you back on the ground.
Meow. I love you.
Offered by: Scott-the one you like on November 8, 2002 12:05 PMDarling. How did you get back? I'm stuck here with a trunk full of size 2 palazzo pants, fabulous tops and a shitload of Jimmy Choos. God! Oops, sorry! I didn't mean to say that! It's hot in here!
Offered by: Mad Genius on November 8, 2002 12:04 PMThanks, Sally, for the perspective!
Thomas, I personally don't care if you personally don't care for this "story line". Please feel free to go to another site. Or create your own masterpiece.
Offered by: Jodi on November 8, 2002 11:29 AMLet me get this straight; Are you back to being alive now, or are you still dead yet disenfranchised? I personally don't care for the whole "I'm dead and I see..." story line. (And yes; Fuck me for saying it.)
Offered by: Thomas on November 8, 2002 11:22 AMWelcome back Jodi! You, of course have skills...you have fashion sense and you don't say luncheon.
Offered by: sally on November 8, 2002 10:59 AM
