28 April 2006

Broken Nuts

On the way to work last night I stopped off at one of those warehouse stores that specialize in selling overstocked goods at normal prices. You know these places...everything is just piled randomly on the shelves with no apparent order. And...I purchased cashews. On the label it read 'some cashews may have been broken during shipping and handling.' Curious man that I am, I decided to investigate this nutty phenomenon. And...it's true, some were actually broken.

I am soooooo glad they put this warning on the label. I might have been confused about the picture of all those non-broken nuts on the front of the can.

27 April 2006

3:51 AM

Yep, that's the actual time. EST. And Mr. Jason is wide awake.

Thinking of something poignant to say right now...hmmm, let's see. I went to church tonight, which I always do on Wednesdays. Two weeks ago our church had services every night until nearly midnight. Needless to say I missed a lot of work. Tonight when I got my paycheck stub, I discovered my boss reimbursed me for the time I missed.

Think of that...I got paid to go to church.

BTW, our web site is www.dominionchristiancenter.com.

25 April 2006


$3.00 per gallon. That's about how much 89 octane costs in Tidewater, Virginia now. If it hadn't been in the news, I might not have noticed. I don't worry about things like this. It simply does not bother me. It's not like it's the end of the world. I consider Life a game of sorts. Perhaps this is why I consider the thought of people hauling ten-gallon jugs to Exxon at two in the morning amusing.

Contrary to what most in the media say, I think President Bush is doing a good job. He's not perfect, but I shudder to think what would have happened had that guy from Taxachuttes been elected. If people don't like this country...then they should move out. Why not? Canada or Mexico will take you in. Just make sure you take your fur coat if going North or a crate of Dasani and pepto-bismol if going South.

This is the final week of the semester. You have nooooooo idea how glad I am.

22 April 2006

The Wedding

Theodore and Carolyn are officially husband and wife now and presumably are on their way to Jamaica. Knowing my cousin, he may end up in Europe...Anyways. It was good to see alot of the family from Maine to Florida to Oklahoma and all points in-between.

I sat beside one 4 year old relative who besides being bored, was very hungry. After discovering his napkin wasn't edible he proceeded to chew the petals on the rose that was pinned to his jacket. Fortunately, he got some food which he ate with his fingers. Non-finger food that is.

The garter toss was...ummmm....let's just say some guys can't catch well. Ted eventually stood about 3 feet from a guy and practically handed it to him. There was lots of applause. I think when I get married, I'm keeping the garter. I'll put it in my pocket and tell the other guys if they want womans underware go to the mall and get it yourself.

Ted and Carolyn started seeing one another seriously around the first of 2005. He finally proposed marriage the first weekend in October of last year. It must be nice being married now.

I'd prefer a small wedding, but I'm not choosy. Perhaps there will be 1,000 people...who knows. I've not met her yet. Not to my immediate knowledge anyways. Will I know her when we first meet? I cannot answer that question. Once I thought yes, now...let's say I've been musing a lot lately. It's that time of the year again. Springtime. Weddings. New Life.

20 April 2006


I feel like Jason has just got run over by a truck and shot with a vial of bubonic plague. Everything hurts. Jason hates pain.

I'm...right now...a little high on pseudoepinephrin with HCl (that's Hydrocloric acid) and lots of vitamin C (that's Ascorbic acid). That's a lot of acid my friend. There's also caffeine and iboprofen coursing through my veins. I'm dehydrated and dizzy.

Jason got no sleep last night. He might be hallucinating. Logical Jason says, "don't be silly, I've always had pink elephants as pets in my 750 sq ft apartment."

At EXACTLY 9:11 AM...this is bizaar...All the phlegm in my nasal cavities converged to a certain spot to which I could no longer breathe. I coughed a huge cough, gasped, and raised myself from my bed of sloth...remember the ants Oh' though sluggard...Yep. I almost died from snot asphyxiation. I thought this is absolutely ridiculous. We all die someday, but I prefer to be doing some gallant deed like crashing the spacecraft into Mars or rescuing Alicia Silverstone from a gang of knife-wielding hoodlums while vacationing in Monaco.

LOCAL MAN DIES FROM A SNOT TO THE HEAD...as a headline is not how I want to discover heaven.

Druggily Yours,

The Reshpeckabiggle

18 April 2006

Albino hamburgers

Yes, gentle readers, albino hamburgers do exist.

They're not made from ham and they're not made from albinos. They're made from ground turkey. It's simple see. You take ground turkey and fry them in olive oil and lo and behold. . . you have a white hamburger.

I made one today.

Tastes like chicken.

The OTHER white meat.

17 April 2006


I worked something like 100 hours last week. Today, I slept and dreamed strange dreams. I had a migraine and called off work.

And in exactly 20'' I plan to eat lasagna and garlic bread and return to slumber. Personally, I think God is forcing me to do this. Taking a Sabbath...resting. You can only run your body like a mad man for so long before it collapses. Last night I was running on fumes and mountain dew. Even caffeine is ineffective after a certain point.

10 April 2006

Busy like a ant

Family: Formicidae
Common name: ant

I am beyond busy.

08 April 2006

The Confessions of St. Jason

This is an e-mail I sent to one of my best friends last year. She enjoyed it so I thought I'd post it here. The only change is...I deleted her name so nobody but me knows her secret identity.

I have a confession to make. A secret I’ve told no one else. An addiction..It’s a trivial thing, really, but it’s something I’ve got to get off my chest. Brace yourself, find a chair, make yourself comfortable, eat some cantaloupe, this could be long. Rotisserie chicken. I’m mad about it. Absolutely mad. It’s 4 A.M. I’m finishing up at the lab. I’m alone. I’m hungry. I’m single. This is normal, you ask? I pull into the local Farm Fresh grocery store at 530 A.M. Saunter casually to the entrance, and bump my head into the magical glass doors I expect to open. Closed. I weep silently. They don’t open till 600 A.M. There’s people inside. I can see them. People in white lab coats and gloves, just like me. Except these people are cooking rotisserie chickens, not petrochemicals. I press my nose to the glass like a small lost puppy looking for table scraps. I change my countenance to resemble Oliver Twist. Nothing. The women in white stare at me...and mock. A little old grandma picks up a large fork and stabs a roasting chicken. Holds it aloft and waves. No mercy. A dark shadow crosses my path. Security guard.
"You not loitering here, are you son?"
"No Sir, I’m waiting," I reply. "I just want a chicken, rotisserie chicken that is."
"He looks confused, squints his eyes, and says "It’s 530 in the morning, No one wants rotisserie chicken this time of the day. Be gone!"
I take the man’s advice, since he appears wise...and carries a gun. SuperWalmart. 545 A.M. Open 24 hours. I love this country. I walk through the magic doors. This time they open and my nostrils immediately pick up the scent of hot, spicy, dead foul. I perk up my nose like a bloodhound and walk past an old man born during WWI, that asks me if I want a cart. I make no response. He tells me I’m rude. I tell him I’m just a New Yorker. He understands...calm. I pick up the scent of rotisserie chicken again. I’m in a trance. The siren call of the spice beckons. I heed. I heed to aisle 3, past the endless boxes of cereal, past the 13 rows of ketchup, past the display of cantaloupes from Costa Rica. I pause. "Hmm, not yet. Later." I continue on to the deli section and stop. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a row of rotisserie chickens, that fills my heart with cheer. My hands tremble, I salivate like Pavlov’s dog. I fight giggling out loud lest the stock boys think I’ve escaped from the institute again. Sale. Transaction. Debit Card. 605 A.M. Back at the apartment. Shutters are closed, door is locked. The deed is done. The hot spicy aroma stokes my olfactory furnaces to the breaking point. With a fork in my right, and BBQ sauce in my left, I indulge for the next thirty minutes. I turn into a human tyrannosaur, a carnivorous sapien, and then...calm.

06 April 2006

It's melting. . .

At exactly midnight last night, I accidently caught a screwdriver on fire. "How did you manage this?" I asked myself. Ummm....it's a long story. When one works the night shift in a chemistry lab things happen you know. The hard part is explaining to your boss that you melted an honest to goodness screwdriver since this not exactly an everyday occurence.

"I'm not exactly sure, Mr. G. I walked back to the sulfur analyzer machine and noticed a little black plume of smoke wafting from the table. Upon further examination, I noticed a flaming mass of burning plastic. After repeated attempts to put it out, I finally used some metal tongs to toss it into a sink, where I then baptised the flaming tool."

My boss has a lot of stress in his life. This is despite the fact he's in his mid-50s and still lives at home with his mother.

I still have no idea who the canine was who called me yesterday. Any time a beast of the Earth rings you up requesting dialogue it...you would think...would be fairly important. Perhaps not.

Maybe a cat will call today.

05 April 2006

Updatin' the Wiggleblog

Half an hour ago a dog called me on the phone. It must have been a dog since it was barking.

After a few seconds a voice goes "Jason?...Jason?"

Does this mean dogs can utter speech like us humans? If true, this opens a world of possibilities for communication theorists everywhere. Not to mention the huge unopen market for: ipods for dogs...and what would we call ipods for dogs???

dogpods, terrierpods, icollies, ishepherds, seeing-eye idogs...this could get confusing.

And what does one call ipods for marshwiggles?



and should a dufflepud...or a monopod...use a lilypod what would one call it?

dufflepod, mon-i-pod...(sounds like a rap group)

04 April 2006

Nothing new under the sun

Nothing new under the sun today. I'm looking for a birthday present for my mom. Thinking an original Greek statue from ancient Athens on E-bay would fit the bill since she doesn't have any of these yet.

I've been spending most of my time either reading or writing articles for school.

03 April 2006

Escrivez maintenant

I did not race Saturday. Long story, let's just say I simply was not prepared.

I feel like my name is Drudge and I'm a servant to Mr. Sensible in the dungeon of the Spirit of the Age. That's putting it mildly.

Saturday was my 14th birthday. I became a Christian exactly 14 years to that day...April's Fools Day...and that's no joke. Was it a coincidence. Perhaps. I truly think not. I'm not sure there are such things as coincidences in the grande scheme of Life. Think hard about this. God is the author of Life, of everything...the first cause of the effect known as History. He knows everything and in this great book he's writing is well aware of every 'coincidence.' If he knows when every sparrow dies, think it no accident that a man becomes a Christian on April Fool' Day. I'm sure he's got his reasons. Will we ever know why? Again...perhaps.

Why does God not tell us everything we ask him? Are we not capable of comprehending it? Must be. When I was 3 I was absolutely flabbergasted when I was trying to hide from my mom under a clothes basket. I felt certain that I was invisible to her. I even growled like a dragon to make her think that some dreadful creature lay under her little green see-through basket.

I would like to write more but I've a thousand things to do today.