Because of the great computer upgrade of dickety-aught-ein-dickety, I cannot draw pictures for awhile.
Prepare to read, losers!
Uh, in your face, visually impaired people! FACE!
Anyhoo, I am sitting here on my lunch break, and Lulu, the very large African American girl who is my only friend, is on the computer next to me.
She is playing some game where you move the mouse over Elmo and he laughs uproariously.
Her face is less than an inch from the screen and she is whispering something over and over again.
I lean in to listen.
"Meet my ass, girlfriend," she is saying, in her breathy, Billie Holiday-gets-a-piggyback-on-Fat-Albert voice.
"Why are you saying that?" I ask.
She shrugs and answers, "I don't know."
Elmo laughs like a complete idiot in the background.
Meet my ass, girlfriend.
I am sculpting the mashed potatoes of Lulu's echolalic thinking and my only conclusion is that, by God, this means something.
Back last week when I could draw stuff, I had an idea for a post about a spelling bee.
I even invented a new character, the Under Qualified Spelling Bee Monitor guy.
The whole story revolved around me having a spelling bee showdown with my arch-rival, Steven Fung.
This was in the late eighties, when Asians were just beginning their domination of the verbal sports.
Steve's final word was "ventriloquism" and of course he nailed it.
Mine was shillelagh (pronounced shill-lay-lee).
I felt the awful despair unique to those who mount the squared podium of the spelling bee arena of spelling.
"Can you use it in a sentence, please?" My voice sounded so much like a girl's back in the 80s. Things were different then, more innocent, more full of hair and lean of trunk.
Cue first appearance of Under Qualified Spelling Bee Monitor man.
When I ask him to use shillelagh in a sentence, he looks down nervously and shuffles his papers.
He clears his throat and fiddles with the faux-emerald rock seated atop his class ring.
"Er...there's a shillelagh right there.....man."
Not even the vacuum of space could be as hushed as that auditorium.
Sweat runs over my eyes, burning, and all I can see is Steven Fung's smug countenance.
He writes a word in the air with his finger, then karate chops it to pieces.
We both know what he is implying; that I can't spell the word and I will karate chop my chance of victory into tiny invisible particles that disperse themselves into the air.
"Mr. Monitor, can you use it in a different sentence?"
By now, the monitor is so uncomfortable in his seat that he has twisted himself into the exact position that little girls assume when they have to pee but refuse to stop playing dollies.
His fellow monitors watch in horror.
After a long, pained sigh, he says, "Last night...." pauses to halfheartedly shoo an invisible fly then continues, "last night was sure shillelagh."
When he's finished, he lifts his arms in a gesture of triumph and relief.
With nothing to go on, I completely bungle the spelling and Steven Fung wins.
He pulls one faded dollar bill from his pocket and throws it into the air. The dollar flutters around for a second before awkwardly settling at his feet.
"Cash money make it rain," he shouts. "Hey you," he says to me, "you can New Jack swing onto deeze nuts." One of his fingers points downwards to his private place.
Then he laughs evilly, him and all of his friends, some of whom are cosplaying as Dr.Wily's evil robots from Megaman 2.
I thought of all this, but a few problematic elements arose when even considering such a post.
For one, it is not at all true, as I have never been in a spelling bee; and in fact the whole idea came about because the word "shillelagh" popped into my head while eating my lunch.
And also between that potential post, and the one I did about Blevin the Chinese Minivan Seller, people who are of a sensitive persuasion might have ammunition with which to accuse me of being prejudicial towards Asians.
Hate to play the race card on you politically correct fascists, but I happen to be one-sixteenth Japanese....so how bok that choy, whitey??!?