I got a voice mail from a female asking me to return the telephone call to 573-1729. The only other thing I could understand on this message was “this is very important to me, have a blessed day.” When I attempted to return the telephone call, I explained to her that she had left a message, but I couldn’t understand the rest of the voice mail and I was returning her telephone call. She told me that if I didn’t know who I was calling, I had the wrong number. The person I spoke with was clearly the same person that left the voice mail. I have no recollection of anyone with this number and think I may have gotten the voicemail by mistake. Have any of you all attempted to make contact with someone at this number? I sure don’t want her to fall through the cracks!
Darlene-Lynn Brown
Employed Vagabond
From: Aaron Simon
Sent: Monday, 13 February 2012 9:52 AM
To: Darlene-Lynn Brown
Subject: RE: Missed a phone call???!!(!)
Darlene:
I’m so, super psyched that you felt the need to tell us that you received a phone call. Here I was, wondering whether or not Darlene keeps her work phone hooked up throughout the day, and then, verily, the Lord blesses me with an answer in the form of a missed call. Truly, we live in Holy times.
Often, I receive odd calls. Sometimes, they are in Spanish, as it turns out that the previous owner of my cell phone number was an immigration lawyer. Now, the only foreign language I can speak is French, and—even then—I sound like a mentally deficient five year old. (Or, alternatively, you. I’m joking. Or am I?) So, naturally, being as compelled as I am to get in contact with these people, I will return their phone call, but only to shout, “JE NE PARLE PAS ESPAGNOL! JE NE PARLE PAS ESPAGNOL!” The people then start shouting in Spanish, and I have to continue shouting in French until either my throat starts bleeding or they hang up. Generally, after that, they don’t call again. May I suggest trying that?
I have a very important question for you, and I want you to devote all of your mental faculties to answering it: In your wall of text, you mention that a female called you. My question is this:
A female of what species?
Darlene, I know you are Southern, and thus believe science is some Satan-led plot to destroy Christianity, but you must realize that a female of any species other than homo sapiens using the telephone would be earth shattering. The way we view life would change monumentally and it would be you in the spot-light.
Maybe you could afford some language classes so you wouldn’t tack on an extra eight syllables to every word. You know. Food for thought.
Anyway, please let me know. Unlike you, I have many friends in the hard sciences would would be absolutely pumped to hear about this sort of stuff.
From: Rhonda Langley Sent: Monday, January 9, 2012 9:34 AM To: _EVERYONE Subject: FYI: From The New York Times
Nursing Homes To Patients: “Meh”
Nursing homes have been making the news for tragic reasons more than anything else. Recently, in a nursing home in Tennessee, an orderly broke a resident’s legs and then left that resident in their room, screaming, for six hours while “on break.”
The orderly was quoted as saying, “Bitch deserved it.”
This isn’t an isolated case. In nursing homes across the country, staff are abusing residents in record numbers for perceived injustices perpetrated against them by residents and management.
In Oregon, two orderlies took a paraplegic resident on a walking path and then stole his wheelchair to pawn for “drinking money.”
The nursing home has not reprimanded the orderlies other than telling them, “Do it quietly next time,” according to in-house memoranda forwarded to the New York Times by concerned staff.
Local law enforcement are reticent to step in and put a stop to the matter because, according to a police chief in Mississippi, “I got my mother-in-law in one a them homes. Reckon they’re the reason she can’t speak no more, but, hell, they did me a favor.”
—-
Rhonda Langley
Blog Watcher
“May all your day be full of sparkles!!!”
From: Aaron Simon Sent: Monday, January 9, 2012 10:13 AM To: Rhonda Langley Subject: FYI
FYI:
Aaron Simon
Enrollment Guy
“Shut up and let me finish my Goddamn drink.”
From: Rhonda Langley Sent: Monday, January 9, 2012 10:20 AM To: Aaron Simon Subject: RE: FYI
What? I don’t get it.
—-
Rhonda Langley
Blog Watcher
“May all your day be full of sparkles!!!”
From: Rhonda Langley Sent: Tuesday, January 10, 2012 9:30 AM To: _EVERYONE Subject: FYI: From The New York Times
POTUS’s New Head on Older Americans Relations: “Lolwut?”
The President’s new appointee to the position of Head on Older Americans Relations, an oversight position dealing mainly with various Federal Department of Human Services offices across the country, has come out as utterly clueless about his job.
“I hate the elderly,” he said in his introductory remarks to the press. “They smell. They’re self-entitled. They’re frail. I hate weakness.”
He went on to detail his plans for the future in the three-hour long press conference.
“I’m going to push for a three-strikes-you’re-out rule. After the third time an older American complains, they’re cut off from Medicare. Let’s see how they like the taste of that shit.”
Unsurprisingly, the AARP has reacted negatively to the appointee’s statements, calling him, among other things, “Hitler.”
—-
Rhonda Langley
Blog Watcher
“May all your day be full of sparkles!!!”
From: Aaron Simon Sent: Tuesday, January 10, 2012 9:45 AM To: Rhonda Langley Subject: FYI
FYI:
Aaron Simon
Enrollment Dude
Interblags Ruler
“Damn your eyes.”
From: Rhonda Langley Sent: Tuesday, January 10, 2012 10:02 AM To: Aaron Simon Subject: RE: FYI
What am I looking at?
—-
Rhonda Langley
Blog Watcher
“May all your day be full of sparkles!!!”
From: Rhonda Langley Sent: Wednesday, January 11, 2012 10:02 AM To: _EVERYONE Subject: FYI: From The New York Times
Romney Kicks The Elderly, Aide Says
Latest news from the campaign trail: A former campaign aide for Mitt Romney has come to the New York Times with shocking allegations that Romney has a history of breaking into nursing facilities and kicking the elderly while they sleep.
The aide, who asked to remain anonymous, said that she witnessed Mr. Romney break into three different facilities in three different states and go on what can only be described as “a serial kicking spree.”
The facilities have denied that they have any knowledge of the Presidential hopeful’s alleged elderly kicking, but it has recently come to light that several facilities have had financial windfalls that may or may not be traced to Mitt Romney’s former companies.
When reached for comment, the Head of the Older Americans Relations said, “If he loses, I might have him on staff.” He then laughed uproariously.
Mr. Romney’s campaign did not respond to requests for an interview.
—-
Rhonda Langley
Blog Watcher
“May all your day be full of sparkles!!!”
From: Aaron Simon Sent: Wednesday, January 11, 2012 10:04 AM To: Rhonda Langley Subject: FYI
FYI:
—-
Aaron Simon
Enrollment Guy
Too Old For This Shit
“Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown.”
From: Rhonda Langley Sent: Wednesday, January 11, 2012 10:12 AM To: Aaron Simon Subject: RE: FYI
Why do you keep sending me these things?
—-
Rhonda Langley
Blog Watcher
“May all your day be full of sparkles!!!”
From: Aaron Simon Sent: Wednesday, January 11, 2012 10:23 AM To: Rhonda Langley Subject: RE: RE: FYI
FYI:
—-
Aaron Simon
Guitar Shredder
“Jumbo paper clips smooth steel finish”
From: Rhonda Langley Sent: Wednesday, January 11, 2012 10:40 AM To: Aaron Simon Subject: RE: RE: FYI
…
Okay…
—-
Rhonda Langley
Blog Watcher
“May all your day be full of sparkles!!!”
From: Rhonda Langley Sent: Thursday, January 12, 2012 9:52 AM To: Aaron Simon Subject: FYI: From The New York Times
AARP To Members: “Take up arms!”
After the events of this week, the AARP has sent out a newsletter to its members advising that they “[t]ake up arms against the greatest threat to the elderly in the history of the world.”
Though the AARP has not called for violence, certain human rights’ groups are concerned that the call to arms will inevitably lead to bloodshed. “We’re fucked, man!” private Hudson of the Marines said, “That’s it man, game over man, game over! What the fuck are we gonna do now? What are we gonna do?”
The President has called for clear heads, while his appointed Head of Older Americans Relations has called this “Just the opportunity I’ve been looking for.”
—-
Rhonda Langley
Blog Watcher
“May all your day be full of sparkles!!!”
From: Aaron Simon Sent: Thursday, January 12, 2012 9:54 AM To: Rhonda Langley Subject: FYI
You meet some interesting folk on the bus, and that’s why I think more people should use public transit. See, you may do your commute by driving, and that’s fair enough—but all you’re doing is sitting and taking in information that’s been pre-processed by writers, producers, DJs, music producers, or whatever other hoops something has to go through in order to get on the air. You’re not experiencing all of the glorious, insane aspects that makes up humanity.
Take, for example, the time I was on a bus going from downtown Nashville to my home. I was sitting, reading A Dance With Dragons when a man stops in the aisle next to me. He was about 5’6”, wore what looked like a safari outfit minus the hat, and had what can only be described as a twitchy face. “Excuse me,” he said, “are you Jewish?”
Now, I’ve been living in The South long enough to know that most people who ask this don’t want to engage you in a debate about Rashi’s commentary. More often, they want to share the hilarious joke they heard on Family Guy, thinking that because it’s about Jews, you’ll find it hilarious. So, instead of saying a hearty shalom aleichem, I said, “Why?”
“Well, you look Jewish,” he said.
“Why?”
“Oh. I think it’s your glasses.”
I nodded. “Huh,” I said. “Okay then.” I went back to reading.
Or, take what happened to me this morning.
I was drained, right? Game 6 of the Series was a rollercoaster, and I really needed some sleepy time on the bus—alas, I did not get the sleepy time. For when the bus turned into the Park & Ride center, a woman and her three year-old son got on. Mind you, this was at about eight in the morning. For whatever reason, both of them were screaming their lungs out.
The woman was screaming because she seemed to be one of those people, I believe, who are incapable of not speaking in an inside voice. Perhaps she grew up in a large household, where the only way to get attention from parents was to shout. Or maybe she was just crazy. Or had a power breakfast, if you get what I’m saying.
This is what I'm saying.
Anyway, the kid was screaming because that’s what children do. It is a well-known fact that children are born screaming and, until they are fifteen, they do not stop screaming. Some cities, I’ve heard, have noise ordinances that bar children from being in public during daylight hours because Jesus Christ, some people have shit to do during the day, and they don’t want to have to hear the shrill calls of children.
I kept my head down and the Shostakovich up. I was certain that if I concentrated on the symphony, I would be able to block out the noise. Nope. That was incorrect. The woman sat down in a seat behind and to my left and immediately started screaming at the child. “I swear to Jesus, boy, you need to be quiet. There are people on this bus who probably don’t have babies and they do not want to hear you screaming no you can’t have a drink because you’re screaming you need to BE. QUIET.” The kid, of course, did not stop screaming. “I swear, boy you almost make me regret having kids, but I don’t.”
That’s when I gave a deep, rattling sigh and turned up my Metallica.
She continued addressing… I don’t know. The air, maybe. Maybe she was talking to someone, but if so, I couldn’t hear their response over my music—which was playing at full blast. I could still hear the woman, though, and this is what she said.
“I don’t know why people don’t want to have kids I looooove having kids. Think I’m gonna have a couple more when he gets too old. Just keep poppin em out. You know I look at people what make twenty million dollars a year and ain’t got but one or two kids and I say, ‘Shit, I’m gonna have more kids for you,’” she burst into laughter. “You can’t never have too many kids and you know it.”
Her child then began screaming again.
“Shut up you can’t have a drink you been drinkin too much this morning anyway. You gonna piss yourself and, what, you think I ain’t noticing that you got your pants all down your ankles. Pull them back up cause these folks don’t wanna see your butt.”
I desperately wished that my iPod could go to 110% volume, just to see if that was enough.
We were on the Interstate at this point, and she kept scream-talking to her child. I managed to zone out just a little bit until we hit the Church St. exit, where my iPod’s battery ran out of charge and I was privy to her conversation with the woman seated directly behind me:
“You a single mom?” The crazy lady asked.
“No, I don’t have children.”
“That may be good, but it’s unnatural. It’s not in God’s plan. Girl you gotta find yourself a man, cause that’s the way God wants it to be it’s only natural. Tell you what else ain’t natural: People walkin around being single all the time. You ain’t making nothing better for yourself or others when you doing that. You gotta go with God and find yourself a husband or wife and get kids.
“It’s like I know how you don’t wanna work, but you do because you ain’t got a man. Just like a man don’t wanna do dishes, you know? Girl, that’s the way it is supposed to be.” She turned her attention back to her child. “Will you shut up no one wants to hear you scream? Shit.”
Now, I told you all of that to prepare you for this:
From: Aaron Simon Sent: Thursday, September 15, 2011 10:46 AM To: _EVERYONE Subject: Organizational Day Care
Dear all,
It’s come to my attention over the past ten months that several of you have procreated.
Admittedly, I have absolutely no idea why. The world is filled with pain and suffering on a night-unimaginable scale, and bringing more humans into the world to experience it is, in my mind, a form of sadism. Reprehensible to an extreme extent, I think.
Please join me in remembering a great icon of the entertainment
community. The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection
and trauma complications from repeated pokes in the belly.. He was 71.
Doughboy was buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities
turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry
Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and
Captain Crunch. The grave site was piled high with flours.
Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and lovingly described Doughboy as a
man who never knew how much he was kneaded. Doughboy rose quickly in
show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not
considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked
schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, he still was a crusty
old man and was considered a positive roll model for millions.
Doughboy is survived by his wife Play Dough, three children: John
Dough, Jane Dough and Dosey Dough, plus they had one in the oven. He is
also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart.
The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes.
If this made you smile for even a brief second, please rise to the
occasion and take time to pass it on and share that smile with someone
else who may be having a crumby day and kneads a lift
Welp, I’ve been feeling disheartened lately. Kind of an ennui brought about by yet more rejections and some legit thought about this whole teaching abroad thing. (Which is completely different from how I decided to earn my M.A., which was more along the lines of “Hey, that’d be cool, I’ll go… there!”)
But anyway, this isn’t about my feelings, because feelings are scary and terrifying and require one to look seriously at one’s self in order to determine something, anything about one’s self. And I don’t like doing that, because that’s how literary stories are born, and I find those to be detestable and boring by virtue of their navel-gazing and lack of spaceships.
If it doesn't involve at least one X-Wing, I'm not that interested.
And I was thinking earlier, as I am sometimes wont to do, that it’s been a while since I’ve had a good blood-boiling rage-fest. Or, at the very least, had a blood-boiling rage fest directed at me. This got me thinking about my brief stint at The Daily Beacon, where I was so damn enthused to receive hate mail about all of my wholly irrelevant columns–which I might post up here one day, because hey, why not?
So, please, send me hate mail. I’ll go ahead and tell you my beliefs to make it easier for you.
Also, e-mails, please. (AaronCSimon[at]Gmail[dot]com) I forget about comments on here, and if it goes down on facebook, I’ll just try to troll you.
From: Tasha Gordon Sent: Monday, June 20, 2011 10:34 AM To: _EVERYONE Subject: Stop messing with my desk!!!!!!
I don’t know WHO it is but SOMEONE keeps putting STUPID FACES all over my desk. PLEASE STOP!!!!! Im already harased by you people enough for NO GOOD REASON and here you are TRYING TO GET ME EVEN MORE ANGRY
ARGH
Tasha Gordon
Case Manager
From: Aaron Simon Sent: Monday, June 20, 2011 10:35 AM To: Tasha Gordon Subject: RE: Stop messing with my desk!!!!!!
Aaron Simon
Enrollment Guy, Loki Impersonator, Troll Read more…
In case you’ve been completely caught up in Anthony Weiner’s debacle, you might not have been paying attention to Sarah Palin’s latest evidence of a martyr complex.
She’s been rolling around in a bus and learning “history.” I put history in quotes because I’m not sure she realizes what history is, since it has to do with a lot of facts. (Also, I should have put learning in quotes, because I’m not entirely certain that she knows how to learn.)
If you heard Palin’s account and no one else’s, then her blinking, gaping rant about how Paul Revere was riding around the colonies to tell people that the British weren’t going to take our arms.
See, the British wanted this to be us.
Aside from the fact that Revere’s ride was a) warning people about the impending march of the British Army and b) largely beefed up and lied about by Washington Irving, this whole situation is worrying because Palin seems to think that the reporter was an agent of the sinister Shout-Out Gotcha Question Media.
After spending a lot of time losing enough IQ points to understand what she was talking about with her gibberish, I understood that she seemed to believe that reporters were coming out of the woodwork to catch her unprepared and make her seem stupid.
Okay, fair enough. But:
She was asked the question while in a huddled mass of admirers and reporters. It’s highly unlikely that she didn’t think there would be questions. Although, this is Palin, so she might have thought all of the questions would have been “Why are you so damn good at what you do?” or “Why do people make a big deal of the fact that you didn’t finish one term as governor?”
It wasn’t a “gotcha” (in human-speak, this translates to “difficult to answer”) question. The reporter asked her what she’d seen that day. That’s it. It’s like asking a child what they did at school. She could have said “I saw trees” and it would have been a correct answer. Instead, she tried to buddy up to her already-sycophantic Tea Party base with an incomprehensible answer to an easy, simple question.
So, Sarah, I’m going to help you out. I’m going to try and tell you what situations would qualify as “gotcha” situations and questions, because you seem to have severe difficulties in understanding the term you made up for yourself.
I received a chain e-mail from someone I’ve never met. It’s the typical saccharine quasi-humor that gets passed around in offices where Friday is a punchline. This one, though, had to deal with health screenings and eating healthy.
A woman goes to a doctor’s office and it turns out that because of her diet, she is on the verge of having a heart attack because of high… everything. Rather than taking her doctor’s advice, she decides to eat bowl-fulls of Skittles for breakfast.
This is what passed through my head.
From: Aaron Simon
Sent: Friday, April 15, 2011 10:20 AM
To: Cathy Davidson
Subject: tickets
Hi Cathy,
You don’t know me. I work downstairs in a den of estrogen.
As you don’t know me, you wouldn’t know that, before I read your e-mail, I did not have diabetes. While I was a bit overweight, it wasn’t anything major, and, with a bit of a workout a few days a week, I would’ve hit my target weight fairly quickly. However, my health problems started when I read your e-mail this morning, decided that it was such a great idea that I should try it out.
As per your doctor’s instructions, I ate a full five-pound bag of Skittles.
Immediately after, I lost my sight and all feeling in my feet. (No doubt that you’re thinking to yourself, ‘how is he sending an e-mail after losing his sight?’ Well, Leah’s in today, and she wasn’t doing anything, so I’m dictating this to her while trying to figure out how to have a constant drip of insulin.)
Essentially, I’m dictating this e-mail to tell you to switch doctors immediately. Your current one is a scoundrel and a charlatan, and has probably never heard of the Hippocratic Oath. What is his name, so that I can file a malpractice suit.
Probably no surprise here, but as there was alcohol at this gathering, there’s going to be a lot of things to apologize for. So, with this minimal introduction out of the way, here goes nothing:
