A brand new low...

Well I certainly created a bit of a splash in my first full day in Rankin. I really wish I had a theme song for my "Jackie antics" entries. They seem to be getting more and more frequent. Scary.

So, I was loaned the CBC vehicle last night, so I could do any grocery shopping etc. I needed to do... as well the guy that was supposed to take it home went home early, and left it with me.

I was thrilled, because that meant that Jaime and I could go on a driving tour of Rankin... rather than a walking, shivering tour of Rankin.

So to kill time, and to pick up a few things before I picked her up... I headed to the Northern (and apparently parked in the "for sale vehicles" area... oops!) I waste a sufficient amount of time, and head back out to my car.... and somehow set off the car alarm.... AND I CAN'T TURN IT OFF. So after about ten minutes of trying to turn it off... I give in, and call my producer. She drives down to help me out. She can't stop the alarm either. Then three kids ask me if I'm robbing my own car. Actually, it went more like this:

Kid: "Is there a robber?"
Me: "No, *engaging smile* I just set of the alarm by mistake"
Kid (to friends): She's robbing the car.


THEN. My producer and I jump in her car, head to CBC tech guy's place, because he knows how to fix it. He tells her. We try it. No dice.

By this time it is at least 20 minutes after I said I was going to meet Jaime.

THEN producer leaves me in the car, (to sit totally awkwardly, and freezing-ly in the screaming vehicle) to go get tech guy. Twenty minutes pass. No producer. No tech guy. Turns out in this time, he came, and tried to find me, but because I was parked in the "for sale" parking lot, thought all was fine.

FINALLY, I am rescued, and he drops me off at home, and then takes me to Jaime's place. A good hour after I said I was going to be there.

Or so I thought.

Turns out I'm an idiot... and got the wrong building, but decided I didn't need my wallet to go to Jaime's so I have NO MONEY. So I walk BACK to the Northern. And call 411. Ok I have her number. Can I remember my calling card number? Not a chance. Solution?

BEG FOR MONEY AT THE NORTHERN. That's right. I had to scam a quarter off a 12-year old in the Northern. How low can you go?

Anyways, I finally got there, had some fan-freakin-tastic cheese pizza... some classic "Beauty and the Geek" and broke out the Wii. I'm no longer a Wii-virgin. And now I want one. Blame Jaime.

Oh, and now I'm not allowed to take the car home for awhile. I think they are worried I might set it off in the middle of the night, and they don't want me to wake them up haha.


Kara and Matt October 17, 2007 at 9:31 PM  

aahahhahahahahahha sooo sorry to laugh at all of your misfortune, but man it is so fricken hilarious! You poor girl! I really hope for your sake that everything turns around. However, that might make the blog a little boring :)

Jackie S October 17, 2007 at 9:37 PM  


Don't even sweat it for a second.
I am fully aware of how random the situations are I get myself into.
When I am actually upset, my tone is decidedly less sarcastic, and more mellow.

For now, laugh away!

J Consortium October 17, 2007 at 10:43 PM  

Now you definitely have to join the Wii nights! Haha.

I love the Wii mostly because you can buy the old games for so cheap. They release new games on the Wii shop every Monday. Fun fun fun!


Anonymous October 18, 2007 at 8:59 AM  

This was good for a chuckle this morning. This might even beat the sheep in France story.


Kara and Matt October 18, 2007 at 9:49 AM  

ohhhh sheep in France your mom says? I think we all need to hear that story now!

Anonymous October 18, 2007 at 9:57 AM  


I enjoy your blog very much. Hope you don't mind that it is read by the distant Island relatives.

All things that happen and you wish the ground would open up and swallow you so you can escape are so terrible at the moment but are laughable later when you distance yourself from it.

We have enjoyed a good laugh at your expense. Or maybe is was how you wrote it up that makes the story so good. You are a journalist and now I know you picked the career for you as you are a gifted writer!


Jackie S October 18, 2007 at 10:04 AM  

So I'm not new to blogging, and managed to keep my old blog from last summer (when I was in France... and had my famous run-in with the sheep...) and because I'm painfully lazy, I have copied and pasted it for your enjoyment, Kara.

Here it is!


So I've done it. I've officially had my "never live it down" story of the summer... though I must admit, mine is a lot less scandalous than most (so far they range from streaking, falling asleep outside a bar, picking up a "married virgin" - the jury's still out on that one - you get the picture). I think so far, mine is the only one not to have involved alcohol, but at least that would have given me an excuse...

So, so far, this summer I've spent a lot of my spare time at BH (Beaumont Hamel... current workplace for those just joining or who have forgotten...) has been spent watching our resident sheep. They get moved about the grounds every week and a half or so, in one of the nine or ten different pens, chowing down/mowing the grass as they go. Ann (co-worker) and I often find our selves seeking refuge at the back end of the site, giggling at the baby lambs fall into crater holes and generally being dangerously amusing.

The one thing about sheep though, is that they can get pretty grimy what with the general sitting around in their own feces most of the day and having it get stuck in their wool. On top of that, those coats can get pretty warm... especially in the dead heat of summer... which the site has recently blessed/cursed us with since the first week of June (of course, directly following two and a half weeks of hurricane weather....).

So one day, the sheep were well past due to be sheared, and the sheapard - Mr. Shitquatte (pronounced Shit-Cat. Yep, we're mature) - set the date and the time for this to take place. No problem, our only role in the whole process was to not freak out and think they had all escaped when this was scheduled to happen.

But then they actually DID escape. For some reason, one of the sheapard's dogs went bezerk and lost about 50 of the sheep, and they ended up beside the monument in an area without fences. But they seemed pretty content, and we decided to stand guard until someone came to get them.

And by we I mean me. And by come to get them, I mean when Mr. Shitquatte and his dog came out of nowhere and the sheep attacked me.

Sheep may look like docile creatures, but trust me. They're not (their hair whorl is way too high on the forehead.... anyone? Geekfest 2003? Anyone???). So all of a sudden I have 50-odd sheep stampeding towards me... and my reaction is to shreak into the walkie-talkie "The SHEEP!"

And then run away. Like the pathetic little girl I am.

Ok no big deal, I ran from the sheep. Not THAT embarrassing right? True. And here comes the truly pathetic part of the story. So I dodge out of the way of the sheep, and make way for them as they alternate stampeding and standing around aimlessly. Just as the last few of them pass by me, I back up a little bit and turn over on my ankle.

Then I flip over backwards over a string/wire fence (didn't hurt, but it sure did bounce me around a bit) tumble down a communication trench, sprain my wrist when I fell and land in a patch of stinging nettles.

Ok. Yes that's embarrassing, but I thought that I could just pick myself up and deal with it, once I realized that I could walk and my wrist wasn't broken. And I peeked out of the trench to check if anyone had actually witnessed my little tumble (hoping that I could just get away with the personal embarrassment ... and leave with a little pride). Everything looked A-OK.

Mmmmhmmm. Not so much. In fact it wasn't until I climbed out of the trench that I spotted a large group of 11-year olds and their tour leader that I realized that I totally wasn't in the clear and I wasn't going to live this one down at all.

Lets just say that not only do all my co-workers know about my little foray into the British trenches ... but as do all the people I live with (as he later asked about me/my condition the next day at the Vimy memorial), probably all the children at that school... as well as all the tour operators at Kingswood.

Ouch, oh my pride.

Anonymous October 18, 2007 at 9:05 PM  

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA omg, i had completely forgotten about that story! Classic Jackie :)