The GeekMan may make himself known this coming week, so this could be my last chance to hijack his weblog.

First and foremost:

Five-Year Old Goddaughter: Hi Auntie Jill, will you come over today? I’m not really sick.

JadedJu: Not really sick? What does that mean?

Goddaughter: Weeeeeeell, I threw up before, but I’m really okay now! You can come over!

JadedJu: So you’re all better?

Goddaugher: Yes! I’m all better! I’m only…ummmmm…[long pause] 1/8th sick now!

JadedJu: Excellent, because my absolute limit on exposure is 1/4th. I’ll be right over.

Second of all:

There is no second of all. It rained this morning, the first such weather in many months. On a freeway on-ramp, driving slowly in accordance with the conditions, I momentarily lost control of the car, fishtailing right and then left. I’m pleased to report that I had both hands on the steering wheel at the moment of occurence, and was therefore able to regain control without incident. This is only worth reporting because it is so rare for me to have both hands anywhere near the wheel. Just moments earlier I had been holding the newspaper in one hand, reading headlines while driving. Before scanning the paper I had placed a few calls on my cell phone. You might not be surprised to hear that I’m often drinking some iced decaf coffee or diet gingerale while I’m reading, gabbing with friends, and just incidently, driving.* The events this morning chastened me, however. I kept both hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road, and I’m happy to report that the rest of the trip was completed without incident.
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Dear GeekMan:

Blah blah blah, you’ve got a new place to live. Whatever. Like that makes a speck of difference to me, here in California. The fact is, the internetisphere has slowed nearly to a standstill during your rude abandonment of your site and your readers.

We’ve tried to a. be patient, and b. make meager attempts to keep your site updated in your absence (and I do emphasize the meagerness of our efforts–but hey, I’m not updating my own site at all, so that makes it seem that I’m posting nonstop with yours.) But the truth is, not a single one of your readers (and we seem to be certain that there are at least seven of them) cares one whit about your guest posters. They come here everyday with the desperate hope that you and your past(r)y minions will have returned.

Anywaste, as you would say if you were here (but you’re not, and why is that exactly?), I’ve got a few other things to talk about while I’m logged in. Like the woman I had a work meeting with today who said that she “dibbled” in writing, when what she meant was that she “dabbled”. I proceeded to buy her book (because I’m a sucker like that,) and I can tell you now that she was correct in calling it dibbling. Indeed, it’s dibbling down my chin right now.

Then there was the guy I met with this week who thinks I’m going to kiss his feet and hand him an empire, in order than he be able to build on the empire he already stole. I’m going to pretend to hand him my empire while I simultaneously go about undermining his. I can’t wait to witness his surprise, though my dastardly plan will take some time to execute. There’s never a rush when you wish someone ill, however. Like Tony Soprano, I believe that revenge is like serving coldcuts.

In closing, I would like to say that if I call your house and ask to speak with your five year old daughter, I am not interested in a return phone call from you. I have no interest in you, unless you can prove that yesterday was your first day of kindergarten, and not your daughter’s.

Colorado Springs is a city of about half a million people. This week I found the one guy (well, I’m hoping he was the only one) who wanted to sell us his religion.

My three travel mates and I were running late, due to the delayed arrival of our transportation. Relieved when a cab pulled up, we quickly piled in, three in back and me and my fat rear end and long legs in front. As we rolled away from the hotel, our driver autolocked the doors, and our visit to Satan’s den began.
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If you are a sub for the real author of a blog, and you need to go away on a business trip, are you then obligated to find a sub to sub for you? And if the answer is yes, should the sub be someone that the real author of the blog would approve of, or are you now free to request help from someone who knows you but has no familiarity with said blog author? Such a dilemma. However, it’s one I won’t be able to answer until I return this Friday from the above referenced business trip.

In the meantime, think of GeekMan, butt deep in the dust bunnies that were exposed when he went to move his bed to the new house.

What is it about me that attracts people without a firm grasp on reality? I’m not aware of doing anything to solicit this, yet I am never without a “special friend”.

A couple of jobs ago, while working for an organization serving the lesbian and gay community, I had an elderly woman, a Chinese immigrant, who came by the office once or twice a week seeking my assistance. She spoke few words of English, and her dialect of Chinese was spoken by no one in my office nor by any of the Chinese community organizations that I tried to pull in. We communicated by a combination of sign language (hers) and badly misspelled handwritten notes (mine). There were a few phrases she had that I could always identify, “Bad man, bad man!” being one, and “Call policee Miss Jill, call policee” being another. She had two essential complaints, one about the merchant running the store next to hers (he was the “bad man”), and the other about the large urban high school half a block from her (she wanted me to call the police about the kids who, when they left campus, often came into her laundromat and tormented her blind husband). I spoke to the police on her behalf many dozens of times, and even called the school principal more than once. But I knew we had both crossed the line when she offered me $2,000 to close the school. While it was flattering to realize that she thought such a thing was within my power, I had a tough time picturing me, Ms. Lesbian/Gay Community, calling for the closing of the campus. (Plus, if I could pull off such a thing, wouldn’t it be worth a whole lot more than two thousand bucks?)

This week I was out of town leading trainings for staff and teachers of a school district. At the end of a session a meek gray woman, barely 5 feet tall, approached me and asked for my phone number. I imagined that she was hoping that I might come and make a presentation to her classroom. As I wrote my digits on a slip of paper, she asked me how much I charged for an hour of consultation. I told her that would really depend on what she needed.

Her emotional floodgates opened, she launched into a story about her son, who she alleged was sexually molested by his father. She said that her son’s lawyer was now accusing her of being a religious fanatic and she needed advice on what to do. This wasn’t a normal sized flood, her problems were Noah and his Ark in size.

Let’s review: I have no expertise in the area of sexual molestation. I possess no legal background. I am scared of religious fanatics of all stripes and colors. I just facilitated a training in ABSOLUTELY NO WAY related to her question. Why are we having this conversation, and why can’t I tell her to never call my phone number? I pointed at my fellow trainer, who had entered the room while we spoke. I said, “That’s probably the woman you want to speak with, she’s really the one in charge.”

I left the training in search of a special friend who has a problem I can actually help with. What d’ya got?

I believe that GMan asked me to be one of his guest writers so that I could deliver some gay content to his readers. Naturally this content will be rated “G”, but I’m here to please. Here’s some gay content:

I’m very happy. Happy, happy, happy. Life is happy and gay. Gay, gay, gay. Happy, happy, happy. Gay, gay, gay.

Okay, back to the non-gay content. You know, when GeekMan passed along his blog keys to me I was under the impression he was letting me have HoBiscuit as well. Imagine my disappointment when I learned that Geeky was planning to give me a dry old Bisquick Biscuit, not HoBiscuit.

Actually, maybe he invited me to guestpost here in order to deliver some Jewish content to his readers. Oy, oy, oy. Gay, Gay, Gay. Goya, Goya, Goya. Happy, happy, happy.