June 1998

June 6, 1998
Just now, in the past few minutes, I finally got the punch line of a joke I heard back in the fifth grade. Of course, back then I laughed, pretending I got the joke, as did my classmates, probably including the teller of the joke (who heard it from his big brother). And after all these years, I can say that the joke wasn't that funny.

June 7, 1998
If I could be anyone in the world, I would be Miss America. Imagine all of that good will you could share with folks all over the country. Sure, they'd be staring at my breasts and trying to peek up my dress, but I'd still be spreading good will, and that's all that really matters when you're Miss America like me.

June 8, 1998
There is an uneaten apple sitting on my desk since last week. Life is like that. My generation is like that. Once you get past the thickened skin of indifference, past the fleshy meat, down the the core, the very center, you find inedible seeds, seeds that if concentrated, would kill a man. But if taken in small doses, will only cause diarrhea. I always have a difficult time spelling the word "diarrhea" and usually end up, whooped, running to the dictionary. Must be something in my childhood.

June 9, 1998
I have yet to live this day.

June 10, 1998
Festive? You might say. In fact, you might even say that I was feeling down right jovial last night. After I got the call I sat amazed and pondered it for a while until the reality finally set in. Yes, I will have to pack up everything that I own and try to explain my height upon my arrival, but I'm going to be the best darn circus midget this country's ever seen! Oh, and I finally ate that crusty old apple that's been sitting on my desk. It tasted awful, but alas it was not wasted and that's what mommy always taught me. That's what I'll tell the doctor when he pumps my stomach.

June 11, 1998
On my drive in to work, I thought a lot about life, growing older, and gingersnaps. As a child, gingersnaps were a delicacy, much sought after but rarely obtained. Now, having attained adult status, I can (and frequently do) go into any store and buy out their entire supply of gingersnaps. Then I can take them home, fill the bathtub with them, strip down and dive right in. And while I enjoy this new-found intimacy with these tasty molasses cookies, some of the mystery of my youth is gone--along with the yearning for them. Perhaps it is knowing that I can have them, that they are not out of reach, that day or night (thanks to the modern 24 hours supermarket), I can fill my gullet with mounds of gingersnaps. I never really liked the taste of gingersnaps but I seem helpless to stop myself from frolicking among them. I don't have much furniture any more. Had to move it all out to make way for gingersnaps. My friends don't come around much. I personally like to sit on a mound of crunchy 'snaps and don't mind pushing my way through the crushed, dusty remains of their brothers to get to the bathroom. I... don't... feel well... right now. I hear them calling me...

June 12, 1998
I just realized that I spend a lot of my free time working on Internet sites, sites that only a few people will see, people who, collectively, will spend far less time looking at the site than I spent making it. And it makes me wonder, is it really worth the effort, this new art form of Web Page Design. Is it worth the pain of horrible mouse fingers? Could I spend my time better serving the world by instead feeding the poor, visiting ailing senior citizens in rest homes, taking bastards to the zoo or the playground in the place of their real fathers, or perhaps just improving myself by reading a book about how to align my chakras using a pair of tweezers and an orange Tupperware™ melon baller. But then I realize, "Hey, it's time for 'Talk Soup'!" and I forget such useless fancies.

June 13, 1998
"Hello." That's something I've needed to say to myself for a long time now. "Hello, me. Hello!"

June 14, 1998
Remember the song "99 Red Balloons" by that German gal named Nena, or something like that? Remember how you could hear that song on the radio in both English and German? Oh, and remember the first time you saw the video for the song and how she had hairy arm pits? Remember that? Eeeeeyuuuuu. I guess it's just a European thing. Then there was that song called "The Kommisar's In Town" by Falco. Didn't he also sing, "Amadeus"? Boy those German folks sure can crank out the hits.

June 15, 1998
There is a cheese called Gorgonzola. I heard that in Japan they originally wanted to use this name for the monster that we now know as "Godzilla". They had no idea that the translation for the word was some type of cheese. Can you imagine New York or Tokyo under attack by a giant wheel of cheese? Now THAT would be worth seeing.

June 16, 1998
Today I inadvertently ate an entire 8-pack of AA batteries. As they have been moving through my digestive track, there are moments where the ends touch against each other and I let off sparks. This could be a really bad thing if it turns out that batteries give me gas. I better take some Pepcid AC fast.

June 17, 1998
I completely forgot about Flag Day this year. Every year I make a Groundhog's Day resolution to remember the "lesser holidays" and once again I've forgotten. Ok, Citizenship Day is September 17th. I can't forget this time.

June 18, 1998
Love...exciting and new. Come aboard, we're expecting you...and love, life's sweetest reward. Let it float, it floats back to you..............The Love Boat, soon will me making another run. The Love Boat, promises something for everyone. So set a course for adventure your mind on a new romance....(something like that)

June 19, 1998
I've yet to see Titanic. Other movies I have not seen include Men In Black, Independence Day, and Dumb & Dumber. I'm rather proud of the fact that I take a different direction than the rest of the world when it comes to art. Now, if you want to see a REEL movie (Pun intended and thank you very much ladies and gentlemen, I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your waitresses.), check out Home Alone 3. I almost liked it as much as That Darn Cat.

June 20, 1998
It's Saturday. Today I walked about the house in my underpants, drinking beer as I yelled at the neighbors whenever they approached my yard. They have no right stepping into my yard or even thinking about the notion. As one of the neighbor boys leaned over the barbed wire fence to retrieve a baseball I shot a .45 into the air. The blow was too much for the MetLife blimp passing by which landed in my lawn. The damage wouldn't have been so severe if not for the barbed wire fence. But, then again, I was thinking about an incident just like this when I ordered the high voltage fence. The blimp was fixed overnight and managed to make it to it's destination only a day late. The neighbor boy, on the other hand, was killed on contact.

June 21, 1998
Sunday, what is there to do on Sunday. Sure, I could go to church, but those folks are nothing but hippo...uh....hippa....err....two-faced folks. By the way, I finally figured out how to splice into my neighbors cable today without the cable company noticing. Feel free to drop me a line if you want in on the details. Oh, and if paying that pesky postage is keeping you from mailing me a letter, I can fill you in on all kinds of ways to beat the post office at their own game. Just order a copy of my newest book, "How to Cheat the Federal Government". This book is the follow-up to my best-selling, "How to Cheat Your State Government"....ad

June 22, 1998
Imagine just for one moment that you were a tree in a rainforest. For years you were allowed to grow and mature giving off essential nutrients to the plants and creatures living around you. Your instincts allowed you to not only live in harmony with the beauty of tropical nature living around you, but you magnificently contributed to a growing and thriving ecosystem. The only problem was those damn parrots pooping all over your branches. "Get off of me you freaky colored song birds! Go poop on the stupid monkeys!"

June 23, 1998
I'm back from my week-long vacation where I spent vast amounts of time watching two slugs mate on the gray vinyl siding on my house (some fetishes just cannot be denied!). It's frightening how easy it was to get up and switch back into the automatic-pilot mode that allows me to shower, eat breakfast, and drive to work without thinking. Now if only I could manage to add "get dressed" to that list, I would have been able to enter the building...

June 24, 1998
Today was a special day for me, a trip down memory lane replete with charred slices of fried okra. You see, today, whilst within the confines of the "Handy Mart" by my work, I managed to pick up a package of Milk Duds, a childhood favorite. On Halloween, I would be overjoyed to open my sack back at home and find those tiny boxes into which two or (perish the thought) THREE milk duds had been crammed, and quickly transfer the contents to my mouth. Buy you may have noticed that I said "pick up" Milk Duds and not "pay for" said Duds. Yes, I attempted to steal the chocolate coated caramels from the store, only to be confronted by a very overweight employee, and later arrested for my cleptic tendencies. Yes, there's just something about the smell of a holding cell that brings the memories flooding through my brain.

June 25, 1998
I have received skags of letters from the readers of this site (that would be one Mr. Shuman) and I would like to address some of these fan letters.
Mr. Cruller writes:
"I enjoy reading your journal entries each day. They are the bestest thing I've read since that Readers Digest article back in '63 about how Kennedy would start a war. I mean it, this stuff is great... FOR ME TO POOP ON!"
My Reply:
Mr. Cruller, Thank you for your continued interest in the Journal pages of Gristle Pop. You may also want to check out the reviews and stories for further illumination. I have carefully hidden messages into them FOR YOUR EYES ONLY, messages that will teach you of THE WAY and of gestational diabetes.
Cryptically - Mr. Sanguine

June 26, 1998
I don't have time to write today and I am busy trying to get these panty hose on. Yeah, it's pretty strange to wear women's clothing (at work, at least), but in the last employee meeting, they mentioned something about "cross training" and I figured I had better get an early start. Crap. ANOTHER run! I don't know how you females do it!

June 27, 1998
Things I've eaten today: bowl of Captain Crunch original flavor knock-off cereal, milk, cup of blueberry swiss-style yogurt, hamburger (with tomato slice on wheat bun), apple, french fries, ketchup, milk duds (including resinous glaze, tapioca dextrin, maltodextrin, xantham gum, and TWO helpings of lecithin!), water, orange juice, two girl scout peanut butter patty cookies, an emu (fried), more water, and, because I enjoyed it so much, I just had an extra helping of maltodextrin. Good stuff! Better with ketchup, though.

June 28, 1998
Something about this day always brings back a funny little memory from my past. It used to be that every Sunday daddy would take us to the trash dump to rummage about for anything useful. Daddy would take whatever we found and turn it into a profit. On one occasion, he made nearly fifty cents profit on an old shoehorn ("the kind with teeth, people should get beat up for statin' their beliefs"... but I digress). Anyway, there was one Sunday where I was working through the northeastern corner of the dump and was bitten by what appeared to be a nest of angry rats. The bites were severe and I lost a lot of blood. To top it all off, I developed some sort of neurological disease from an infection and was on bed rest for nearly a month. Come to think of it, it's not much of a funny little memory after all.

June 29, 1998
I'm feeling perky today. Not something I can control so I can't be held accountable. In fact, I seem so durn perky, I think I'll apply for a job at a health club with all the other ex-cheerleaders, so I can walk around and tell people perky things to encourage them to look more like me. They will be glad to have been told such perkolisms and will secretly wish to be like me. Perky.

June 30, 1998
Last night, while drifting off to sleep, my mind drifted back to childhood memories in a past life when I was a hedgehog. Me and my nine siblings (thirteen before that lawnmower incident) would scurry around our borrows with out shaggy coats, playfully threatening each other with the sharp spines on our backs, eating insects and curling up into perfect orbs and rolling down steep hills into traffic, getting crushed under five of the eighteen wheels on a big rig. Memories.

June 31, 1998
Yesterday, a good friend of mine took his youth group to King's Island. I was invited, but told him I could not make it. But I went anyway. I followed their creaky van all the way to Cincinnati and followed him around the park, being careful not to be seen, every so often shouting out "ONLY WAN NICKEL TUH SEE THE AMAZING SPLEEN BOY! GIT YER TICKETS RAUGHT HERE!" and then ducking behind large women in bright, floral muumuus as he looked around. Then, when I had my fill, I broke into their van and replaced all their cool CCM rock tapes with recordings of John Denver, William Shatner, and Florance Henderson. Then I drove home, chuckling the entire way to myself.