My First Gig

Hello Chinchillas,

I apologize that it has taken me so long to write. Seems like the last time that I had time to jot down my thoughts was when I was watching the series finale of Dallas. On another note, as we all know, the economy is still in the pooper. Everyone keeps saying, "Oh it will get better, the housing market will pick up." I'm a waitin for the turnaround... But so far I have seen zilch, zero, nada. I'd have a better chance of seeing Courtney Love at an AA meeting than I would seeing the economy spiral back up.

Like most other families, mine has been in termoil for the past few years. My mom can barely afford to buy a box of wheaties to tide us off for the week let alone meet the payments on our sub par apartment in Wheaton's southside (some may call it a shack). By the way, that is mold growing in my shower mom, not ivory... So stop calling it Wrigley Field Jr.

Anyhow, since I assume the role of Chief Male in the house, I felt the sincere and deep yearning to provide a stellar life for my family. Since my surgery, I have been on disability but that ended last week. Nowadays, I can barely rub two pennies together to keep warm. I no longer have the luxury of buying that special head and shoulder shampoo for my dander ridden mane either.

I knew that I needed to step up to the plate ASAP. I envisioned myself as Babe Ruth and the ball as my bitch. I was going to be knocking applications out of the park until I found a high paying job that would bring riches, fame and all the Twinkies and hoho's I could imagine. Three weeks passed and I had already completed 101 applications to symbolize each dalmation in my favorite film. Was I qualified for half of the jobs? Financial analyst, CEO of a Fortune 500 Company, Toll House Elf Costume Designer, Chemical Engineer...just to name a few. Well, you be the judge.

I heard back from most of the companies two weeks later. Financial analyst-
Was told that I was less qualified than Palin was for Vice President. CEO- was told that they'd rather hire a monkey who doesn't speak English. Costume designer- they told me I'd have better luck designing outfits for Princess Beatrice. Chemical engineer- they just respond with Ha Ha Ha. I was down to one last hope and this one was the big kahuna... Head chef at Taco Bell. Clearly I had a culinary bachground (used to fry roadkill for homeless kittens) and I would even consider myself overly qualified.

"Ring ring" the phone sounded one somber spring day. I picked it up, "Phoenix and mom's house. Phoenix speaking." I heard a voice clear their throat at the other end, "Hey mang, I seen joor application for da head jeff gig. I noticed you has a backgrounds of cooking dead meow meows and road skunks. We think joor the perfect fit."

It was like the angels has lifted this huge weight off of my shoulders! Me? Head chef at the Grade-A, classy beyond classy taco bell? I was humbled! Of course I gave them my verbal agreement over the phone right away. By the next week I was frying up cheesy gordita crunches and mexican pizzas like there was no manana.

I became very popular at work. Everyone was always giving me free snacks. "This one is on the house. You are looking thin today" they would tell me. I even became part of the in-crowd that would go to Dave and Busters every week for beers and wings. The group consisted of my co-workers Cleetus, Arthur, Jollyrancher, Destiny and her child also tagged along. I must have gained at least 10 lbs in my first month working there. I looked like a furry Michelin man.

By month 2, I was even heavier. I was embarrassed to leave my house except to go to work. Co-workers continued to tell me that I looked fabulous and under weight, but the man in the mirror told a different story. How had I let myself get like this? Now I know how Arnold Shwarzanegger must feel. One day you are a chisled sex symbol and the eye candy of hundreds of Americans and the next day you're the fat disgrace that wants to crawl under a rock and die.

Month 3 at work changed everything. It was a normal Monday and I had just started frying up a chalupa. I rang the bell, which indicated that i needed more mystery meat to complete my chalupa masterpiece. Nobody answered my ring-a-ding so I decided to fetch the meat for myself. As I was walking toward the fridge, I saw a bunch of papers scattered across my manager, San Felipe's desk. I couldn't help but notice my picture on one of the pages. Naturally I stopped to admire my own image. But I couldn't have ever been prepared for what I saw on the page.

"Cheesy Gor-Pheeta crunch coming this August" the paper read. What? Me! How? My place of employment was going to chop me up into little pieces and serve me as a promotional sale item? They could have at least had the common courtesy to add me to the featured menu item of the week. But all that was beside the point! The real story here was that my co-workers were trying to fatten me up so they could cook me and serve me to customers.

I turned over my shoulder and saw San Felipe standing there with a surprised look on his face. He lunged toward me and I ran as fast as I could in the other direction. I glanced back and I saw San Felipe grab a knife off the counter as he chased me. "Oh no, this is it, I am a goner" I thought to myself. San Felipe got a hold of my collar and held the knife to my throat.

"Dis is da end of the line for joo, mang. Danks for being a good employee, but I regret to informing jew that jew are August's special, yea." As he wisked his arm back to chop my neck I heard a sexy voice yell "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeere's Johnny". The next thing I knew, San Felipe's head had been blown off by an apple gun. It was not Jack Nicholson's character from the Shining that had come to my rescue and it certainly was not Johnny Depp. Low and behold, the one and only Johnny Appleseed had saved me from my demise.

Fast forward a few months later and I Johnny and I have become the best of friends. Not only did he save my life, but he helped me get my weight back in tact. He could whip up a mean apple strudel if you know what I mean. I can also honestly say that I am the happiest that I have ever been. The large settlement that I sued Taco Bell for also had a lot to do with my current mood.

Call me Ishmael, but I am uncertain of what the future holds. Perhaps I will be a globetrotter or an astronaut. It is possible that I could make a run for President. But for now.. I am just happy and healthy being Phee.

Love,

Pheedel

They Don't Call it the Windy City for Nothin'

Hello Compadres,

I am sorry it has been so long since I dusted off the old Macintosh and wrote to you all again. Life has been crazy lately. I went from recovering from major surgery to reeling and dealing to get my career of the ground. I used to sit at home and wait for an opportunity to get out and launch my acting career while watching reruns of the All My Children. Today, I barely have time to sit down and enjoy a nice meal of smoked kibbles and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc (let alone keep track of what Erica Kane’s ass is doing on AMC). But like they say, when it rains it pours… Or in my case, when it snows in blizzards!

Let me take a break from my acting career to tell you about my near death experience in the blizzard. It all started at 4pm when the winds were just starting to pick up and the snow was whirling around like Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz. I was at home in front of the fire with a sappy Nicholas Sparks novel in one hand and a Peppermint Mocha Latte in the other. As I approached Chapter 4 of “Nights in Rodanthe” I realized that it was Wine Wednesday.  With my busy schedule, I had completely forgot that tonight was my turn to pick up the Moscato D’ Asti that my mother thought so fondly of. On a side note, watching her drink a bottle of Moscato was like watching a toddler at feeding time- my momma sucked that thing down like there was no tomorrow.

Anyhow, I knew that I had to put my life at risk and weather to storm so my mom could partake in Wednesday’s normal festivities after her hectic Hump Day. I bundled up in my snow gear and definitely resembeled Ralphie’s brother on a Christmas story.  I went to the garage, started my Barbie GTX Turbo cruiser and headed out in the blizzard.  Before I even pulled out of my neighborhood, my car felt like it had slid more times than Albert Pujols in a double header. But, my momma needed wine and I needed to be the brave man that I was and cater to my momma’s needs. I mean, she was the woman who spent 72 hours in labor with me for Christ sake.

After more slippin' and slidin' I finally made it to the crowned jewel of all liquor stores…. Binny’s Beverage Depot. I immediately went to the Italian wine section and snatched up 5 bottles of the pricey $4.99 Barefoot brand Moscato, checked out and was off again. Just when I was about to turn onto my street, I saw the most magnificent snowflake land on my windshield. This snowflake was perfect in every way and was the kind of snowflake that people write about in books. It was the kind of snowflake that school teachers so desperately try to make out of paper and scissors to display in their classrooms for parent teacher conferences. It captured my attention and mezmerized me to the point of forgetting that I was operating a barbie motor vehicle.

When I looked up, I realized that I was about to hit a stop sign. I slammed on the brakes as my beautiful pink car did a 360, smashed into a snow bank and ejected me from out the top (note that Barbie cruisers have no roof). As I was hurling through the air like a boomerang, I thought that I was a goner for sure. I landed plump in the middle of the street and instead of crashing on the concrete, my Ralphie’s brother’s-esque wardrobe bounced me back up and caused me to stick my landing  on my hind two's like Dominique Dawes in her prime. My beloved snow suit had saved my from an unlikely demise. Thank goodness I wasn’t that famous yet, or else my photos would be plastered all over tabloids like Charles Barkley after his DUI.

Standing there alone, I did all that I could. I popped open the trunk of my snow bank ridden car, got out the 5 bottles of Moscato and headed down the road. Was I sad that my car was probably toast? A little. Was I sad that I had to walk 3 blocks in one of Chicago’s worst storms? I guess. Was I happy to be alive? Of course. But most importantly, was I happy to get home safely and enjoy a night of drinking with my mother? ABSOLUTELY! 

Signing off,

Phoenix Jaquim 

Chuggin' Along

……Continued

Clementine inched closer and closer toward me and started rubbing my back. I won’t lie to you- that girl could give a massage… But thinking of the ugly creature that was rubbing me immediately turned off all of the good vibrations that I was feeling. Think of it this way… Would you want Christopher Walken giving you a massage? That’s what I thought…

Anyhow, Clementine relentlessly rubbed my muscular back as she tried to spit game with me. “You be so strong my little Clydesdale” she kept saying.  She slowly inched her way forward and there she was face to face with me. Oh no, she was going to plant one on me and I was going to get aids or sars or something. I had to do something to stop the kiss from happening…. I did the only thing that I could think of... I smacked her right square in the face. This was no light blow, this blow was reminiscent of Sugar Ray Leonard. Then I heard a voice…

“Phoenix…. Phoenix” the voice kept saying to me. “Phoenix, wake up you are done with surgery”. Oh no… You have got to be kidding me I thought. Was that seriously just a dream? I looked around and noticed that I was there again… At the dreaded Arboretum View-Seattle Grace Hospital. Looks like Clemetine and the Mexico trip was merely a figment of my anesthetics. It also looked like at I punched my nurse in the face, not Clementine… Oh well, I will just pull a Jamie Fox and blame it on the ah ah ah ah ah  alcohol if she decides to press charges.

With surgery number two now under my collar, I was an old pro. The results were more promising this time around as well. When the doctors split open my belly, they found that I did indeed have a liver shunt. A shunt is an abnormal blood vessel that bypasses the liver, which prevents blood from being cleansed. In layman's terms.. The shunt was causing bladder stones which made my wee wee hurt when I took a tink.

Fast forward a few weeks and here I am again... Still staying at my grandparent's house until my ma decides to pick up her broke ass and find us a place of our own. Needless to say, I do appreciate everything that my mama has done for me. She sold her car and works the vampire shift at a diner that they call Diamonds in order to pay medical bills. She is truly the most remarkable and wise woman that I know.

While recovering, my ma gave me some of the best advice that anyone could give me. She said "Phoenix, life is like a pooper scooper, you never know the size of shit that you're going to deal with everyday." These words were like chicken soup for my soul. I realized at that moment that I was put on earth for a purpose. That purpose was far more important than what I had previously thought that I was put on earth for (to be eye candy for all miniture breed dogs).

I knew that I needed to do something special. Maybe I would take a trip or go on a sabatacle.. You know, real Eat, Pray, Love type shit. I couldn't be bitter anymore for the cards that baby Jesus dealt me. I wouldn't hold a grudge for having to go on my new special rice and egg diet. Telling me to stay away from meat was like telling Lindsey Lohan to stay away from cocaine... It would be a daunting task to say the least, but with my new perspective on life- I was up for the challenge.

My purpose in life is still a little unclear, so I will have to find it somehow. Everyone has a purpose, even Pee Wee Herman and Richard Simmons have a purpose.. Don't ask me what it is, but I know that they do. I know that these next few days will be the most important days in my two years on this earth. Please bare with me as I search my soul for my true calling in life.

I will write back soon as I know my words inspire millions. In the meantime... Think about your purpose in life. Is it to put those big boats in the tiny glass bottles? Is it to go out and sell wrapping paper door to door for discounted prices? Or could it be to put the "made in china" sticker on objects? No matter how big or small... We all have a purpose. Stay tuned for mine, folks!

Much Love,


Phoenix