Are you awesome?
No. I’m Jessie.
This is like when my kids come running up to me whining, “I’m hungry,” or “I’m thirsty.” I say “Hi, hungry, I’m Jessie. What can I do for you.” And because they are on the spectrum, they then have to scramble to find the words to describe hunger and thirst without saying “I’m hungry”. It’s not really cruel. They need to be able to do this. But someday? Someday they will turn it on me and I will rue the tactic.
Do you like nachos?
Yes. But the question brings an inappropriate joke to mind. It’s not Jester-style inappropriate either, but full-out racist of the “I wish I hadn’t heard it, now it’s lodged forever in my brain with the word Nacho”. I won’t repeat the joke, but the word after nacho is cheese. I hate jokes like that. They aren’t funny, and they are compelling for all the wrong reasons
Do you know a person named Ashley?
I know someone with the last name Ashley. Does that count?
Do you have blog?
This should be answered with some kind of a gang sign, shouldn’t it? Yeah. I got blog. You want some? Gonna cost you.
What’s your favorite food?
Steak, appropriately seasoned, and cooked rare or, at most, medium rare. Please no A-1 or Worcestershire sauce unless the piece of meat is already tough, tasteless, and dry. In which case, why the FUCK did you serve it to me?? You may feel free to get me a Texas Road House gift certificate to atone for your sins.
Puppies, kittens, or pot-bellied pigs?
Puppies, and kittens, and pigs. OH MY.
Pigs get bigger than most owners expect, and they often become mean.
Kittehs are sweet little sociopaths, and I wish Scott weren’t allergic.
Do you forward those irritating chain e-mails?
No. About the only ‘chain’ I do is those blog awards that require you to answer seven questions about your gerbil, confess to being a monk in your last life, and compose a discourse on the Diet of Worms.
Do you have any stickers?
Is this a euphemism, or are you asking if my kid has decorated me yet today? If it’s a euphemism…eeewwww. If it’s the kid thing, no, but he’ll get around to me. He’s just still working on the dog.
Does your mom have the same color hair as you?
Roughly, yes. Except hers is gray now and mine is brown streaked with gray. Random. I really love my daughter’s my little ponies with the interchangeable plastic hair. It’s like a cross between pony-fun, Mr. Potato-Head, and wig wonders.
How many times a day do you go to facebook?
You assume I ever log OFF of facebook.
When was the last time you had a staring contest?
Oh. Yesterday. In Sam’s club. Sam was being a perfect little shit. (Exhausted and too many stores. No choice, but I knew it was coming). And we got to a point where I just locked eyes with him while he debated his next move. This rarely ends well. I finally said, “You have two choices. We can leave, or you can crawl under the cart and ride around like a little prisoner.” For reasons I do not understand, he thought the second choice was hilarious, and for the rest of the trip, he lay under the cart, riding around like he was the dog food or soda pop. Everybody we met cooed over him.
When was the last time you fell asleep with the TV on?
The third of Never. I rarely watch TV. I only recently even got one that goes to the outside world.
Has anyone kissed you today?
Now they have, thanks for asking. I’m sure my husband wonders to what he owes me running into the room and yanking him into my embrace while he wielded a paring knife against a pear.
Do you believe in love at first sight?
What do you see when you turn out the light?
Are vampires real?
Once upon a time, Bram Stoker had a vision. Elizabeth Kostova is one of his few true literary heirs. I enjoy Ann Rice. But she’s not what I’m talking about. There are a limited number of real, extraordinary vampire stories out there. But yes, oh yes, they are real. The stories, I mean. Outside of literature, vampire bats are real as hell. They just aren’t what you think.
Jessie Powell is the Jester Queen. She likes to tell you about her dog, her kids, her fiction, and her blog, but not necessarily in that order.