Cubeless in Montreal & I Hate These Types of Blog Posts.
These types. Like this one, right here, the you’re reading. You know, the one that’s going to APOLOGIZE for being M.I.A. for the past while. I HATE these types of blog posts. What I HATE even more is that I’m the one writing it. So, let’s get it out of the way:
Hey there. What’s going on? I’ve been very busy lately moving and shit so I’m sorry if I haven’t updated.
There. I’m done. Now that that’s out of the way I can tell you where the f*ck I’ve been. I’ve been busy moving and getting ready for the move. Yes, I’m officially on my own. Amazing. However, I’m stuck to sleeping on a couch since my bedroom is not exactly ready but it’s alright. I’m living with some of my buddies, basically the whole Salty Pigs troupe.
Speaking of The Salty Pigs, well, what the hell is The Salty Pigs? Well, The Salty Pigs is the name of the comedy troupe my friends and I created to encompass all our Italian-oriented comedy starting with the famous Nonna Maria. We’ll be adding more shows and videos in the very near future. But, why The Salty Pigs? – Good question there, Jonathan. The Salty Pigs is actually derieved from the word Prosciutto, which, if you don’t know, is basically Italian ham. It’s a cured pig leg that we slice up and eat and sometimes wrap around canteloupe or eat with bocconcini. In either way, it’s deliciously delicious.
Okay, let’s go back to me and not updating this site in like forever. Here are some important announcements -
Firstly, the CUBE. The Nissan Cube. You know, the car shaped like a Cube that I nagged you all about to go and vote for me every single day. Well, I lost. That’s right. No Cube for me. I’m stuck with my Volkswagen that I need to unlock by using a string that goes into my trunk ( if ever I meet you in real life and you’ve read this, ask me to show you how it works, you’ll freak out). That’s okay though. I mean, the party was fun. There was a crazy amount of candy that pretty much hurt all our tummies (er, crap factories) for the rest of the night. The simulcast with Vancouver and Toronto was pretty cool and so were the people there. In either case, I still have my styrofoam Cube that I built myself. How many Cube winners can say that?!? Eh?!? Well… none of them… but… they can say they got a real Cube.
Also, during the Cube run I did a little contest where people can enter to win a Wildcard shirt, a copy of Rock’n'Rolla on Blu-Ray, an autographed drawn picture by me, and a stapler remover. Well, the winner is…. here it comes:
PAUL – ( @djoneiro )
Congrats Paul, not only will you look stylish in your Wildcard shirt but you can now remove unwanted staples from places where staples are not wanted.
Finally – lets all take this moment to remember Michael Jackson… starting now…
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Despite what anyone says about MJ, I’m going to miss the guy. As a kid he inspired me with his music, dance moves, mystery, his messages on hate and tolerance. We truly lost a great person. The thing is, though, we lost a regular person. We lost a person just like you and me who’s greatness was measured by the amount of scrutiny he was under. Every action he took was scrutinized, lied about, or blown out of proportion. It’s sad to see someone get consumed by the world around him. Reminds me of the episode of South Park with Britney Spears.
I’m working on something to commemorate Michael Jackson and see if we can raise some funds for his charity. I’ll let you know when it happens. Your support and love would be appreciated.
Read MoreIn Which the Squirrel Climbed a Tree and Found a Friend
Lately my thoughts have felt rather reminiscent of tree houses. I didn’t have a terrific tree house as a kid, but I made friends with plenty of trees and spent a hearty portion of the 1980s up said foliage. It was not unusual in suburban Chicago to catch sight of an even scrawnier version of myself halfway up the neighborhood oak, Choose Your Own Adventure paperback held tight between my teeth and PF Flyers kicking free. That’s where I could escape and no one could reach me (even if they could see me through the leaves).
I am still frequently overwhelmed by the urge to shimmy up some branches as I make my way around the world. That’s not always an option, unfortunately. People don’t look too kindly on a grown woman scaling municipal trees. For example, Beverly Hills has amazing trees, and I exercised a non-human level of self control by not disappearing up one or two just off Rodeo. Well, this time, anyway.
Like I said, I didn’t have an awesome tree house, I just made do with whatever tree I happened by. But my best friend Katie had the best tree house ever. This wasn’t some rickety box her brothers threw together one weekend- this was a handcrafted, architectural masterpiece! The hardwood floors were sanded so smooth you could film an Olde English Pledge commercial there (I probably tried, come to think of it. That was about the same time the camcorder entered my life and I started writing Saturday morning comedies a la Saved by the Bell). The square footage alone could easily pull a couple G’s in Manhattan. It was spectacular.
So what’s got my head up in the trees today? It’s hard to say, but I think it has something to do with Twitter. It seems that the time I spend online lately leaves me feeling the same way I did after an afternoon hanging out in the tree house with my best friend, listening to music and laughing until it hurts.
See, the life of a writer can be lonely. We’re odd, moody creatures that simultaneously crave and loathe attention. We love to read people and struggle to understand them, but want to keep a measurable distance just out of reach of anyone trying to understand us. I don’t know, maybe it’s in the vain attempt of objectivity, but I think it’s mostly a defense mechanism (like I said, writers are odd ducks).
For me, writing is like climbing trees. It’s solitary observation a safe distance from the world below. Now what I’ve found is happening with Twitter of late, is that I’ve taken up with other writers of the tree climbing persuasion. We were all up on our branches, miles from each other, drawing the world as we want it to be. Then one day a Retweet catches your eye, and you see someone sitting in a tree somewhere just like you. Soon Tweets turn into conversations, and conversations to games. Next thing you know, you’ve built a tree house where you can hide with your friends, telling stories and laughing until it hurts.
Twitter has made a measurable impact on my life, but it’s not just because the stunning infrastructure invites play and conversation. It’s the people in the tree house with me. We can climb onto our respective TweetDecks and hide from the other 89% of the world, playing our games and making up new stories so that when it’s time to go home for dinner, we have things to chuckle about until we meet again.
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When Sarah Crisman isn’t climbing trees or trying to break into your kid’s tree house you can find her over at SarahCrisman.com or tweeting away on Twitter. Follow her! Don’t let me slap you!
Guest Post: Jackass Letters – Archbishop of Canterbury
Get it? It’s a donkey writing a letter! You know… Jackass Letters… donkey..
Welcome to The Zimp’s first ever guest post! Who better to be my first ever guest poster than a man who spends his time writing jackass-y letters to REAL people.
That’s right, Christopher L. Jorgensen of Jackass Letters has gladly shared one of his letters with The Zimp. It seems no one is safe from Christopher’s letter writing. Going through Christopher’s massive collection of letters you can see that he’s fired off letters in almost every direction – to Ben and Jerry’s all the way to Hillary Rodham Clinton.
Here’s Christopher’s letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Rowan Williams.
December 8, 2008
Archbishop of Canterbury Dr. Rowan Williams
Lambeth Palace
London
SE1 7JU
Dear Dr. Rowan Williams,
It’s totally cool that you write poetry. Not enough people do that these days. I am sending you some of mine to look over. I am including “Man of God,” and “Paramour.” You probably won’t like them though. Feel free to let me know what you think. If you do like them you can include them in your church newsletter!
Would it be possible for me to get an autographed photo? It would be my first autograph by a published poet. That would be cool of you!
I’m writing because there’s a worldwide recession going on, with cutbacks, layoffs, and permanent job losses. This got me to wondering if the Church of England has had to face such hardships! I hope not, but if so, I had an idea. You could start outsourcing prayer.
I know this seems ludicrous on the face or it, but if you think it through I am sure you will decide the idea has its merits. Many members of the Church of England are busy people with little time for things like prayer, and there are places like India with lots of people that need employment. I figure a system could be set up whereby for a small fee Britons could pay one of these needy people to doing the praying on their behalf.
Money would be funneled into impoverished areas of India, Britons would have more time to do good works instead of just praying, and as an added bonus thousands of Indians could be exposed to your ministries!
It seems like a win all around if you ask me.
Sincerely,
Christopher L. Jorgensen
Here’s the reply recieved from the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Archbishop of Canterbury
Lambeth Palace
London SE1 7JU
27 January 2009
Mr Christopher Jorgensen
PO Box 93042
Des Moines, IA 50393
USA
Dear Mr Jorgensen,
I’m very sorry not to have replied sooner to your letter, but it got a bit buried in the Christmas rush, I’m afraid. I just wanted to say thank you for writing to so kindly. Are you still writing poetry? I thought there was a lot of energy in what you wrote, and in the first poem the way in which you use the blood metaphor and the phrase ‘I sell my soul to a god that does not exist’ are particularly powerful. The second has some very good stuff, but seems to close at some points to the raw data (for example, the use of a person’s name in a poem needs careful thought, and I’m not absolutely sure it’s justified here), and reads more like work in progress. But I do hope you’ll carry on with the creativity.
Outsourcing prayer? Well, in a way we do it all the time simply by the constant exchange of prayer requests across the world (we have a lot that come in here). What I can’t quite get my mind around is paying people to pray; I suspect that God might raise an eyebrow…
Photo enclosed; thank you again and best wishes for the New Year.
Yours sincerely
Rowan Williams
Christopher’s Commentary:
I sent essentially the same letter to the Presiding Bishop and Primate The Episcopal Church but all I got back from her was a photo. I sent the Archbishop two poems I wrote a while back. “Man of God,” and “Paramour.” I didn’t spend much time picking them out. I grabbed a religious poem about an atheist losing his faith to get the girl, and an S&M poem that used the word “dildo!” Yes, I know I am promptly going to hell.
I am writing the Archbishop back, I am going to send him two chapbooks of my poetry, an autographed photo of myself, and a couple “quid.” I’ll let you know if he writes back! We might becomes fast friends and I’ll end up with a couch to crash on if I ever visit England. He’s welcome on mine.
Official website: The Archbishop of Canterbury.
Check out jackassletters.com if you’re feeling frisky!
Follow Christopher on Twitter!
and check out his personal website!
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