sorry so sloppy

Immm-hmmm. Well. Alright.

Dear Patrick,

It seems that there was a gathering of journallers who all got together to play Cranium because they had heard that I enjoyed the game. I understand that you were one of them. It also seems that you and your friends had an easy time with the game and quickly decided to rename the game in my honor. That would normally be flattering, but in this case the renaming was called “Pamie is really dumb.”

Oh, excuse me for a moment while I wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes.

Oh no, those are tears of pain. My mistake.

Let me say these few words in my defense. You were playing Cranium with a bunch of actors. Of course you can knock out a quick Nicholson impression and the entire table knows what it is. I have been playing this game with families. Families aren’t all actors, you know. Also, you guys had really just met, right? Well, when you’ve got eleven people who know each other playing and there’s a Club Cranium where both teams are playing at once, well, blood can be drawn over which team guessed “James Brown” first.

You’re playing with polite actors. Have you ever played this game with my father? No, you haven’t. Let me tell you what it’s like. He doesn’t do the acting cards. He doesn’t do the drawing cards. He doesn’t do the clay. He sits there like a puppet master while I act and sing and hum and dance and charade my ass off. He just sits there because he has a thing about not guessing until he’s pretty sure of the answer. So it looks like I’m playing Charades with Chief from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and my mother is shouting, “She wants you to guess,” and he’s shouting, “Well, I can’t guess if I don’t know the answer,” and then the timer runs out.

See, I’m playing on a different caliber than you are, Mr. Patrick.

And I’d like to see you make “atomic bomb” out of clay and get your team to know you aren’t making a mushroom.

I’m not dumb. I’m playing with a group of friends/family/strangers that makes for a very different game.

Oh, and how can you cheat? Ask Eric. If he’s playing and I’m up against him in a Club Cranium and you both turn towards your respective teams to begin charading “Energizer Bunny,” Eric’s advice is to give a sharp elbow to the chin, and when the opponent is bent over holding her bruised jaw you begin clashing your imaginary cymbals until your team gets it. Then you sit down and pretend you never hit anyone.

And yeah, some of my teammates had too much to drink. They would spell forwards when they were supposed to spell backwards. At one point I thought I had made up the words “nuclear fusion.”

Sorry you’re too stuffy to have fun.

Love,
Pamie

[db]

Dear Billy Blanks (TM),

What’s up with Advanced Live #4, yo? I can understand that you don’t want us getting bored, but how come you’ve completely lost your mind in this tape?

First of all, I don’t think it’s fun to just keep jumping for an hour. Don’t make jokes about how you’re not going to say “walk it out.” Those are your magic words, Mr. Blanks.

Second, please make Shelley shutup. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but apparently she now thinks that the World Famous Billy Blanks World Training Center is some sort of Club Paradox or something, because in between round house kicks she’s shouting “Ho! Ho! Somebody say ‘Hooo-oooo!’” and I don’t want to shout anything because I am too busy crying and I hate her so much because she never seems to be affected by anything that you do to her body. Even when you dead-legged her standing leg during a machine gun kick. It’s sick.

Third. Hey, what’s with the crazy clown-circus music? I understand you wanted us to have a bit of fun and dance the monkey or whatever, but the crazy clowny-clown clown music was bothering me. Plus you had that scary sweaty grin on your face as you looked right into the camera and pretended you were moving my shoulders– it’s getting weird, Billy. It’s getting too weird. I feel like you really feel like you’re in my living room, and I’m worried that it’s not clean enough for you and I’m worried that Shelley will somehow start marching and clapping around my house.

And my ass really hurts today, Billy. What’s up with the standing leg lifts, huh? There’s this part where my lower back was on fire and then you turned to me and said, “Now this part is probably really hurting. That’s okay.” But you know what? It wasn’t okay. Today I hurt. Yesterday my back cramped up from all of the back kicks. You are out of your mind.

I can’t believe there’s another tape that I haven’t even tried yet as well. Advanced Live #5 is just looking at me, and I can’t help but wonder what fresh hell you have in store for me there. What, are we putting our feet behind our heads and jumping? Do we do the undercut punches to “I Wanna Sexx You Up?” Does Shelley pop out of the box and try and arm wrestle me? I mean it, she’s like a machine. At the end of the tape when everyone’s all sweaty and tired and about to drop but you make them walk over and high five you and hug you she’s still marching and clapping and looking like she didn’t even feel the past hour. It’s not normal.

Okay, look. I’ll make a deal. I’ll do whatever you want. Just no more clown music, okay? I don’t like being scared when I work out.

Thanks.

Love,
A conqueror in Austin,
Pamie

[db]

Dear Everyone,

My Holiday Cards are starting to come in. Whee! Thank you!

Love,
Pamie