“I hear ya, troopah! Wipe your wicked ass!”

In honor of Jackie’s birthday which is today: Random quotes, each with a whole story behind it:

— “Where is the delivery boy with that fabric morgue??”

— “I had to wear 40 fuckin’ corsets on that shoot. 40 fuckin’ corsets.”

— “I was married to that Nazi bastid for 30 years and I got NOTHIN’.”

Tequila shots and Caroline

— The famous M., my old flame, calls my house – Jackie picks up. What I love about this exchange, is that they just both went with the game. Ba-dum-ching.
Jackie: “Hello. Tony’s Pizza Palace.”
M.: “I’d like a Sheila to go.”
Jackie: “And what would you like on that?”
M.: “Nothing.”

— “Beneath the bad haircut and the 2 dollar jeans beats a heart of gold.”

— “Are those …. your tents? Tell ’em Mrs. Baaaaarney sent ya…… They’ll know.” (I seriously need to write up the story of Mrs. Barney one day. It is humor on an almost apocalyptic level.)

— We did a production of My Cup Ranneth Over (excerpt from play here) – one of my favorite college productions I ever did. And, like, 40 people saw it. Major great memories working with Jackie.

— At an open mike with her in Chicago. We sang as a duo. A fuse blew – and the entire bar was plunged into darkness. We were there with M., my guy – my grumpy curmudgeonly guy. There were all these musicians there, with guitars that needed to be plugged in, the microphones didn’t work – no electricity – so the open mike came to a stop – Mayhem ensued. M. yelled thru the dark at the organizer, “Hey, there’s an a capella group over here!!!” Being helpful. I had a MAJOR heart-crack. So Jackie and I made our way to the stage – PITCH BLACK – the place was packed – people were still drinking – the cash register happened to be an old-fashionied manual one – so you could hear the pounding of the keys – and Jackie and I sang our entire repertoire, a capella, until the lights came back on. One of the most magical nights of my entire time in Chicago. You could have heard a pin drop in that place while we were singing.

— Jackie and I worked in a factory after college. We had to be “on the line” at 6 am. Which meant Jackie had to come and pick me up every morning at 5:15. The headlights of her car pulling into the drive. Coffee in the darkness. Grim silence between us. We sat on the assembly line all day. We met up by the lunch truck on our breaks, to commiserate, share our misery. We made references to Officer and a Gentleman to try to lighten the mood.

— Our Sunday night dates when I first moved to Chicago: We would walk down the street to My Pie (only the “pie” was spelled with the sign for Pi) – and we would have a mug of beer each, and share a pizza. My favorite pizza joint in Chicago. Then we would walk back to her place and pull the TV out of the closet (she kept it in there for the majority of the time) – to watch Life Goes On – a show we were completely addicted to.

— “He ripped my brown wool leg-wraps.”

— Oh. The carnage we caused.

— All the men we dated. The HOURS of conversation about them. Meeting up for coffee, or drinks .. to talk about this or that man. Supporting each other. Laughing. Crying. Whatever. Just there for each other. I was there on the day she kind of “discovered” that she loved the man who is now her husband. A magical freezing day. They weren’t even dating yet … but something shifted that day. Something shifted.

— I sang at their wedding.

— Jackie and Mitchell came to a Halloween party dressed as Jackie’s grandparents, Chester and Millie. (Click below the fold to see the image.) Chester and Millie were FAMOUS to all of us – as well as beloved. That is one of my favorite photos of my friends EVER. TAKEN. There is so much that is delicious about it. Look at the anxiety in Mitchell’s eyes. Like … Chester doesn’t know WHAT is going on, and he feels a little bit out of his comfort zone. He is frightened. And look at Jackie’s face. Her mouth is open. Her hand pats Chester’s arm comfortingly. WHAT IS SHE SAYING TO HIM? It’s hilarious. She is so obviously soothing Chester. “It’s all right, dear, it’s all right …”

— There was one infamous day in Chicago when I had double-booked myself. I had a date in the afternoon with one guy, a date in the evening with another guy, and I was stressing out. I was talking with Jackie about it on the phone, and in the middle of the conversation, I got another call and it was a THIRD man calling me up to ask me out for the NEXT day. I am not bragging – seriously, it was actually not even a pleasant experience. I felt like: ARGH, all on one weekend? I don’t even LIKE dates!! I hung up with Third Guy and clicked back over to Jackie, and filled her in. “That was Third-Guy. He wants to go out tomorrow.” There was a short pause and Jackie said in a flat emotionless voice, “You are a burning icon in the Chicago sky.”

Photo booth at Lounge Ax – I love that picture of Jackie.

— One night Jackie and I decided to walk to the beach, in Rhode Island, to see the sunrise. It was a 7 mile walk. This is a story I NEED to write as an essay. It’s an entire novel, what happened on that damn walk.

— We were the first to come upon a drunk driving accident once, on a lonely country road, at midnight. We saw a car on its side. It had obviously been coming from the opposite direction, came into our lane, went up on the field embankment, and flipped. It was freaky to be the first ones there. We clearly heard someone moaning in the car. Jackie went running up to one of the dark houses … and banged on the door, shouting for them to call for an ambulance. Within minutes, the entire fire department, police department, and EMT staff came screaming out of the country dark.

Jackie and I ended up standing up on a nearby grassy knoll, watching the entire thing. There was a wasted fat gentleman standing up in the car – which was on its side. So he was standing, with his feet on the passenger window, banging against the driver-window which was now above his head. His belly was protruding and hard – a serious beer gut. He looked like he was trapped in a fish tank. He could have not only fucking killed someone, but he could have killed US. If we had come around that corner 15 seconds earlier, he would have smashed right into us. So I have no sympathy for him. He’s lucky he’s alive. Another car came along, and decided to stop and watch – because the whole road was blocked off. Two really cute and friendly college guys stood and watched, and ended up joining Jackie and I on the grassy knoll. MUCH flirting then occurred. We were shamelessly flirting at the scene of a drunken car accident. Jackie and I roared about this later. The EMTs finally got the guy out of the car – and he put up a struggle – A policeman scolded him, saying, “You need to do what we say, sir.” And fat-drunk man uttered these now-mythic words – “I hear ya, trooper!” He said it in a jolly tone, a cooperative tone, a buddy-buddy tone. Also, let’s add on the Rhode Island accent. “I heah yah, troopah!” To this day, Jackie and I still use “I heah ya, troopah” in normal everyday conversation. “I mean, I’m just really upset right now … do you hear what I’m saying?” “I heah yah, troopah.”

— We got to have an enormous stage fight that opened the show of Edwin Drood. I actually got to flip Jackie over a ledge, and she plummeted down through the air. (A mattress was placed at the bottom – out of sight of the audience – for her to land). Can I tell you how fun it was to have a raging FIGHT with Jackie? We rolled down stairs together. We stamped on each other’s feet. We shouted obscenities – in thick Cockney accents. We chased each other up and down the aisles. We pulled each other’s wigs. It has to be the most fun I’ve ever had on stage. And the ending was always the best. When I just grabbed onto her (in a highly rehearsed way, of course) and flipped her over the ledge. Also, we were dressed up in mid-19th century Music Hall get-ups – with huge feathers coming out of our heads, and flashy petticoats, and heaving bosoms, and sillks and taffetas – slutty-looking (those Music Hall girls were often prostitutes) and yet – with some of the charm of the era. Not showing EVERYthing. We were circus horses. So the two of us – in our Music Hall outfits, and outlandish makeup – beating the crap up out of each other. GLORIOUS!!!

— “Jeremy, wipe your wicked ass.” No way can I ever explain that quote – give context – how it came about. It is unexplainable. But I am STILL laughing about it. It needs to be said in a nasal priggish voice, vaguely British: “Jeremy, wipe your wicked ass.” The words “wicked ass” must be RELISHED, too – give them more emphasis than the other words. You judge the ass as being “wicked” – yet you also find the “wicked”-ness of the ass strangely titillating.

“Oo say drak.”

— Morning after a wine-drenched debauched night in college. Jackie, Brooke and I lay in my bed. Aching with our hangovers, not talking, We were HURTING. Jackie slowly opened her eyes, perceived her condition for a silent moment, and then stated, flatly, “You could tap my liver and feed communion to a small Catholic church.”

I love you, Jackie!!! Happy birthday!

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8 Responses to “I hear ya, troopah! Wipe your wicked ass!”

  1. amelie says:

    sheila —

    remember the time i asked you if it was okay that i love mitchell, even though i’ve never met him?

    … lather, rinse, repeat with jackie.

    happy whatnot, jackie!

  2. red says:

    I actually don’t remember that conversation, amelie – but yes. My friends are awesome and I DEMAND that they be loved!!

    jackie’s the best.

  3. tracey says:

    Jackie’s hilarious.

    Happy Birthday to Jackie!

  4. jackie says:

    I am filled and overcome with love. How blessed am I to have you in my life Sheila. The women of CT pale in comparison. Thank you for the years of friendship … and please, wipe your wicked ass!

  5. Travis says:

    I am SO sad I don’t drink anymore. That quote about tapping one’s liver is the BOMB!!

    Happy Birthday, Jackie. We don’t know each other, but you must be one lovely person. :)

    Travis

  6. Meredith says:

    Just stumbled upon your blog by accident yesterday and I’m glad I did. Man, is it bloody addictive to read!!

    I hope Jackie has the happiest of birthdays!
    Take care,
    M

  7. Liz says:

    Sheila and J –
    Please tell me you sang Jordan River the night the fuse blew at open mike night in Chicago?

    Many years ago, there were so many nights that the amazing improv talents of Sheila, Jackie and Mitchell (and others) thoroughly entertained and overwhelmed me and the other common folk. I miss you guys very much! And for those nights you let me join in, thanks a million!

    Happy birthday, J!

    And Ms. Sheila, thanks for posting the memories… I truly enjoyed reading.

    Love, Liz (MJF’s HS girl)

  8. red says:

    Liz!!! Wow!

    We did indeed sing Jordan River the night the fuse blew – at the top of our lungs!

    So good to hear from you!!

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