My sister and I should be in charge of programming at MTV

Sarika: Oh Christ. How are birthers getting so much airtime?!
Jaime: I don't know -- I mean, why are we even legitimizing their bullshit? I'm just going to start making up baseless rumors.
Sarika: Seriously, you'll get on cable news in minutes
Jaime: Sean Hannity was born a black woman in antebellum Mississippi

Sarika: Nah, stick with unknown repubs, get them some airtime. That dude who was on the Real World is running for the house as a conservative republican that's actually true
Jaime: NO WAY!
Sarika: yep, the one from boston season. the guy who was a lumberjack
Jaime: Oh! Sean!
Sarika: http://3pts.wordpress.com/2009/07/02/ashland-county-district-attorney-sean-duffy-likely-to-run-for-congress/
Jaime: He married Rachel from RW 3 -- the Cuban Republican
Sarika: oh geez, well, he's running against a popular republican so he'll probably lose
Jaime: I don't know -- people are stupid and easily lead
Sarika: popular democrat* sorry
Jaime: Especially young people
Sarika: also, apparently, a lot of people in DC are pissed about the real world cast being there
Jaime: Although that season was a while ago, so who knows? They might not even know him!
Sarika: Probably, considering that he didn't have a three way in a hot tub while trying to further his rap career
Jaime: Career? Please! You know how much money those idiots make on the lecture circuit?
Sarika: Wait, seriously? Why the hell would anyone want them to lecture about ANYTHING?
Jaime: Go on real world and then, bum around for the next ten years doing club appearances and lectures

Sarika: Part of me wants to go on the show and just ruin things
Jaime: Yep -- they visit colleges all over the place and talk about their experiences. How so?
Sarika: like when people are having an argument go into the room and start singing or yelling loudly. that'll piss not only the roommates off, but the editors too.
Jaime: Start stumping for some insane political ideal -- "WHIG PARTY FOREVER!"
Sarika: so they can't use the footage
Jaime: Or just use a bunch of copyrighted terms -- "Oh Coca-Cola! You ARE the real thing!""Nike, you Just Do It better than the rest!"
Sarika: And paint things on the walls, like arbitrary political slogans -"Tippecanoe and Tyler too!""McGovern 72!"
Jaime: I Like Ike!
Sarika: Now you're getting it!
Jaime: God, that would be my favorite season ever
Sarika: I want to make it impossible to use any of my footage. And then ruin others' on air time
Jaime: Also, you should ask the blindingly obvious questions that the audience is screaming at the television - "So, hooked up with a married guy, huh? How's that being a whore thing treating you?"
Sarika: "Why are you yelling about a Snapple? is it because the camera is there?"
Jaime: "It's a good thing they're blurring your genitals because they're embarrassingly small."
Sarika: "do you really think your rap career will succeed? you're not very good.""no, NOT using a condom is the number one contributor to pregnancy"
Jaime: "You're just kissing that girl to get back at your father for not being around..."
Sarika: "why are you talking about gay marriage? you're completely politically uninformed. do you even know who your congressman is?"

Sarika: have you noticed that people's names on that show are getting more and more strange?
Jaime: Oh sweet Jesus, they're SO bad
Sarika: Khymmberlie. I made that up, but it is possible
Jaime: Ayiiaa. I didn't make that one up
Sarika: This season, i saw a commercial for it, there's a girl named Aiyaa. Yeah! Something like that, I knew it. TOO MANY VOWELS
Jaime: Cohutta. I KNOW!
Sarika: Brawny! That's an adjective!
Jaime: The quilted quicker picker upper or Connecticut WASP? You decide!
Sarika: I want there to be people who are in school on that show or working
Jaime: Kaia -- whose real name was Margaret. Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret. God, I'm tired of being a chubby outcast. Can you turn me into a pseudo-intellectual bulimic hipster with a ridiculous name?
Sarika: prayer answered
Jaime: I want that show to return to its roots -- first season, they lived in a cool loft, actually talked about things besides sex and had some diversity. Now? Generic hot people all vying for STDs and camera time
Sarika: I am going to go on now. i won't smoke, drink, or cause any drama. i will be non confrontational, but will paint copyrighted slogans everywhere and will play mind games with everyone by being entirely normal. i will find a job and ruin this show.
Jaime: Also, you can sing Prince songs EVERY time you're on camera. He's a litigious little leprechaun. They'll never be able to air that footage.

Have you ever been to Florida? It's a criminal population. It's America's Australia.

Florida is all humidity, sun-baked palm trees, six-second showers and heat that smothers around you like a thick, heavy blanket.

It's big bombastic thunderstorms that rattle the windowpanes and cause car alarms to blare. It's rain so heavy, you can't see five feet in front of your face. It's the nostalgia and familiarity of Jason Davis and the Elevator From Hell. It's driving 20 mph on 95 due to the weather, singing along to non-offensive pop rock from the 90s and Steve Miller's Rockin' Me over and over and over again.

It's trying to surprise your mom but failing (thanks for keeping the secret, asshole) and walking into her work shouting, "Hey lady! How much for a shirt?" It's remembering just how tiny your Mom is. It's giving your dad a big hug and surprising yourself by getting teary-eyed over how much you missed the guy.



It's the world sweetest, smartest dogs -- Phoebedog's noises, Maya's wagging tail, Nala's big brown eyes, bellyrubs, stinky kisses and stealthy poops.



It's hugs-hugs-hugs-hugs, new jokes with old friends, apologizing for apologizing for calling one of your best friends a bitch while playing video games, dirty words on the board at Lush Manor, margaritas, Sparkletinis, berry vodka with soda while watching your memories flicker on screen and listening to the craziest, dirty-dirtiest hip hop.



It's homemade Indian food and the constant pestering to eat more, gossiping until midnight, the omnipresent prattle of the Indian satellite channel and watching Mom go gangbusters on bugs with her broom. It's the world's most comfortable couches, the head-nodding lullaby of the fan and raindrops hitting the big window, discovering ancient Judy Blume books in your old bedroom and laughing hysterically at Just As Long As We're Together and Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret.



It's Spanglish on the radio, reggaeton blaring from souped-up Hondas, the excitement of discovering Jarritos in plastic bottles, it's talking about the space-time continuum from Lost and the grandfather paradox at the kitchen table and seeing condoms and pregnancy tests next to one another in the clearance aisle.



It's home. It's family. It's your heart. It's never wanting to leave but knowing you can always come back.

Now just to clarify, when you say sister, you mean...

My sister might be coming to Philly for my birthday!

Best. Gift. Ever!

A conversation between Mom and Myself

Mom: Oh, I talked to your cousin today.
Jaime: Yeah? How is he?
Mom: He's good, he's good. He lost his job.
Jaime: .....

Losing your job is good if:

+ You're a drug mule who shoves heroin-filled balloons up your ass.
+ You're an interspecies erotica artist.
+ You work on the set of an Aaron Seltzer and Jason Friedberg movie.

My cousin works in finance.

Right....

Mom thinks I'm stupid

My mom's never been a big advocate of Western medicine and prefers to treat any sort of illness with natural cures. Me, on the other hand? I think along the same lines as Denis Leary:




So, I'm taking to Mom yesterday and she's telling me how to cure my irritatingly persistent cough.

Mom: Jemmy, do you want me to send you some ginger?
Me: Ginger? What? No. What am I gonna do with a hunk of ginger? Can you even mail ginger?
Mom: It'll help your cough and then, you can cook with whatever's left over.
Me: Firstly, I never use ginger when I cook. Ever. And secondly, I could just take some cough medicine.
Mom: Jemmy, those medicines aren't good for you. You should use natural cures. I was watching TV and this doctor was talking about how medicine actually makes you sick.
Me: Mom, was this a real doctor or like, a doctor of poetry? 'Cause seriously, anyone can be a doctor.
Mom: You couldn't.
Me (pause): Thanks, Mom. Thanks.

Indian woman doesn't think her offspring would succeed in the field of medicine. That's gotta be a first.

Be it ever so humble...

So, I'm walking through the living room to get to the kitchen when Mom shoots me a dirty look and shouts, "Hey!"

I look at her confused -- I'm not blocking the TV and I'm wearing pants. What grievous infraction have I committed now?

Apparently, I was walking "too loud."

I was barefoot and weight 97 lbs.

Yeah.

Something tells me I'm gonna miss all this real soon...

Happy Father's Day

This is my dad (the one on the right. Not the one rocking the idiotic sunglasses. That would be me).

I've never called him 'Dad', though. He's always been Papa. I think that suits him better.

He's funny, but thinks he's funnier than he actually is. He comes up with absolutely crap idea for movies. He embellishes the most ridiculous details. He's a complete smart-ass and because he's married to my mom, has the war wounds to prove it. He's infuriatingly stubborn and equally infuriatingly endearing. He'll never ask for directions, he hurls abuses at the television while watching sports and his sense of spontaneity and adventure are parallel only to his sense of humor.

All in all, he's a good man. The kind of guy you could count on in a pinch. The kind of guy you could knock back a couple of beers with. The kind of guy who will engage you in a passionate debate and not once cross that line into 'pompous jackass' territory. The kind of guy who believes in you like you want to believe in yourself.

The kind of guy who was born to be a dad...or in this case, a papa.

So, to Paps on Father's Day -- thanks for being a good guy and setting the bar so high. I'm lucky to know you and luckier still to be your daughter...but Walthamstow is still a completely crap idea. Really.

You say asshole, I say sister.

(In reference to a girl's MySpace picture)

Sparky: She looks too fat for that hat!
Jaime: How do you look too fat for a hat?!
Sparky: She does! Her body was too big and her hat was too small. She looked like the Michelin Man, Jemmy. A tanner version of the Michelin Man...and uglier. She's got to be easy.
Jaime: She is!
Sparky: She probably puts out after 38 seconds.
Jaime: She puts out when someone bags her groceries.
Sparky: And she works at (insert name of well-known grocery chain)!
Sparky: Why didn't you warn me that you were looking at her MySpace? Now it's going to haunt me. I'll be eating my ice-cream cone and I'll think of her and....It's like an incentive to lose weight!

Make somebody happy and you will be happy too

My Grandpa passed away last Sunday.

It's tough to say and even tougher to see in writing.

He was sick for a while -- his kidneys were failing, he was on dialysis, he suffered from multiple strokes and before he died, the doctors told him that they'd have to amputate both of his legs.

It's unfair to put a man through so much during his last days. Especially a man as fiercely proud and independent as my grandfather.

The funeral was last Thursday.

Everyone said he looked so peaceful and he did, but I don't want to remember a peaceful man.

I want to remember the man he really was -- the way his eyes lit up when any of his grandkids came home. His great appetite for life. I want to remember him for his sense of humor and the way he held both your hands during a handshake. Hell, I want to remember him for how stubborn he was -- a trait passed onto most of his progeny and further still.

I'm still a little messed up but I'm trying to get through it.

Stuff like this made me really appreciate the people in my life. Not just my mom and dad, Sparky and Dan, The Best Friend and the Crew, but everyone -- the guy at Blockbuster who quotes Talledega Nights and makes you laugh when you didn't think it was possible (thanks guy). The cashier at Publix who genuinely smiles at you and tells you to enjoy your day. The guy who lets you in at a particularly crowded intersection. The waitress who refills your sweet tea without you saying a word.

You can write it off by saying, "They're just doing their job," but it's more than that. These people don't owe you anything. They don't have to be nice nor friendly, but they are.

These are all tiny kindnesses that we, for the most part, ignore. I don't want to do that anymore.

Leave an extra buck. Smile back. Tell them that they're doing a great job and that you appreciate it. It takes all of five seconds and honestly -- you can't tell people enough.