Barbecued Hummus: The Ms. Jackson Saga

I would like to tell you boys and girls a story about one of my new best pals, Ms. Jackson. She is super fucking cool, (I'm just super cool, if you need a benchmark) and is one of the most fun people to hang out with I've ever met. I can't wait to hang out with her and Diego at the same time; I may have a good time overdose. She's also one of those people that have their own gravitational pull. After a few minutes of talking to her, you are drawn in and really want to hear what she has to say. To top it all off, besides my sweet porkchop granny, she is the nicest, most genuine person I have met. So to recap: Super fucking cool, fun as hell, very interesting, super sweet, and for some reason, enjoys hanging out with this asshole. Oh yeah, she also has chronic flatulence. How's that for character development?

One day after work last week, we went out to meet Ms. Jackson's cousin, Jem (she's totally outrageous!). MJ wanted us to meet because she thought we would get along and have some good times. We met and Jem is also super fucking cool (and super fucking sexy, heh). After meeting her, I wondered if Ms. Jackson's family possessed a super fucking cool gene and it was passed on through hereditary means. Anyway, we had a blast and I ended up telling my anal sex disaster story (Don't Drunk Fuck a Girl on Extacy) for some reason or another. They really enjoyed it and for a moment I considered joining the circus and traveling the land as a professional storyteller. Later on, MJ totally smoked me in pool and what was left of my dignity is now on display at some dive pool hall. I did reclaim it at lunch a few days later by owning her and Super Trooper in a couple games of cut-throat.

Friday, MJ & I left work early and went to the bar to discuss a little business venture we are trying to start up. As we walked in the bar, she told me, "You know, we don't always have to drink." I thought, oh shit, she thinks I am a total lush (which is true); but she was saying that because she assumed I thought SHE was a total lush (which she totally is). We had a good laugh, but it was a foreboding and foreshadowing moment for the events to come. We were having some drinks and coming up with some kick ass ideas when all of the sudden, she suggested we take a spontaneous road trip. I was super psyched, as it has been years since I have done that, but MJ is smarter than me and decided that the combined $50 we had to our names wasn't gonna cut it. I can always tell when she is getting drunk. She is always eating salsa and the drunker she gets; the more salsa ends up on her than in her mouth. As you know, I am food phobic and that bleeds into how I cannot stand to get food on me. I am napkin crazy and wipe my mouth and hands after every fucking bite. Damn, I am weird. Little did I know, this was another foreshadowing moment.

We were talking about our pals and she wanted to meet the Elkins Mafia. I called Bocephus and made plans to go out to their pad. A few minutes later, I noticed MJ was slurring like a motherfucker and started to talk in incoherencies. She said she needed to go home and I thought that was a pretty good idea. However, she was in no condition to walk, much less drive, so I told her I'd drive her home in Sally and take her back to her car the next morning. That did not go over well and we argued in the parking lot for an eternity. Finally, I just drove her car to her house and would worry about finding my way back to my car later. However, I didn't know where she lived, and she did not think that it was important to tell me directions, so I drove around town forever before we finally found her house. When we got there, she was telling me about her hammock and how she really wanted to lay in it. I told her it was a bad idea since it had just rained and the fucking thing looked like a swamp. She did not heed my warnings and laid down in the marsh anyway, which soaked her from head to toe. She went inside and changed into the craziest fucking outfit I've ever seen. It reminded me of a little girl raiding her mother's closet. That's when she broke out the beansprouts (which I promise was really a Chia pet) and hummus. Her sloppy eating skills ensured that she was covered in hummus and then she broke out the barbecue sauce and poured a gallon of it on some health nut tortilla. Her hand looked like that priest's from Indiana Jones when he ripped that dude's heart out. Then she decided she wanted to give me a hug for being her "best friend ever." So I had this barbecue sauce and hummus covered creature coming at me like the shower lady in The Shining. I was bobbing and weaving like Ali trying to dodge this thing from a Romero movie. I successfully rope-a-doped her and tired her out.

Then she started speaking fluent French. She told me the next day she can't speak French, but I took enough of it in school to understand bits of her tirade. She also told me of her God, Panasonic and how remote controls make the decision for her on how she should fix her hair each day (her finger also comes into play in the decision. What?) She also asked me to write of this incident, so here you go. After she laid in the hammock again and ruined her second ensamble of the night, I knew it was time for me to get the fuck out of there. I called the cab (remember, there is only one cab in Arkansas) and bid her farewell and waited in the front yard. The cab passed me up and I channeled my inner Flo-Jo to do a 100-yard dash in record time. I got home and looked at myself and I was indeed covered in hummus and BBQ sauce; my previous dodging efforts were in vain. My adventures in babysitting had tired me out, so I went to bed before midnight for the first time in a long time. However, we were going to Jem's house on Saturday because she was having a party for her husband's co-workers. I was planning my payback, because nobody outdrunks the TB and gets away with it.

We arrived at Jem's house - wait, farm - the next day and it was a kick-ass spread. One of those places that you can literally have sex with nature. It was awesome. Jem's super sexiness was confirmed as she has a grotto, ala Hef. Sweet! I met her husband and he was super fucking cool too. I like to meet super fucking cool people, but damn, when it was the four of us, I was the lamest one since I haven't reached super fucking cool status yet. That sucked and now I know how the rest of you people feel when you're hanging out with me. Soon others started showing up and I wasn't the lamest for too long. Yay. I had brought a 12-pack of brew and immediately started pounding them. I was in a mental race with MJ to get drunker faster, so the events of the previous night would be flipped. I won.

After a few folks started showing up, Ms. Jackson's parents, MR. & MRS. Jackson (clever) showed up. They too were super fucking cool and it confirmed that the super fucking cool gene does exist. I had fun getting drunk and talking to them. I kept telling MRS. Jackson I was gonna totally make out with her and it threw her for a loop at first, but later on, she was having fun with it. After everyone left, Jem's husband showed me this graphic novel one-shot that was fucking amazing and beautiful. It seriously was a profoundary. I've got to get him to draw my super dope comic I have written in my brain. So I was the drunk one this night and Ms. Jackson had to drive me. Fuck yeah! She drove Sally like shit, but I didn't care as she fell in love with Blue October AND had a coke for me.

So children, that is the story of Ms. Jackson. I have a feeling that she will be a recurring character in these dumb ass writings and I am super glad for that. I sure use the adjective "super" a lot, eh? Maybe I should ask for a thesaurus for my birthday.