Dear Jackie O, (Week 8)

A weekly (or not so weekly) installment answering your most pressing questions.

Dear Jackie O,
You? Me? Green Papaya? Cheap Viet hippie food is so urban-chic. You know you want it. I’m so hot you’d be lucky to be seen in public with me.

Slummin’ it on Oak Lawn,
Ponied Up

Dear SMU’er Driving Parentally-Purchased Rover w/ “2 Long” Plates,
First of all, who lied and told you it was cool to not only have an SMU sticker on your car, but to also purchase custom SMU vanity plates… setting aside for just a moment the vanity plate lettering that you should be punched in the ovaries for.

That’s right. The ovaries.

It’s the same feeling I get when I see the ghetto-ass letters all over the back of a car spelling out a last name, or a fine community group like Ride 'R Dirty as you can see here. Someone, at some point, in some social circle had to imply that last names in the shape of a half-moon were not only socially acceptable, but also something worth paying for. Your group’s influencer has apparently done the same thing, and I’d like to punch him or her in the ovaries as well.

Now, all you need is a Lake Kiowa sticker and a glove compartment full of AAC platinum parking passes to round out the “I make up for my deep insecurities from my childhood days, when popularity wasn’t based on my parents' checkbook, by flaunting said checkbook to which I contribute nothing... not a damn thing” superfecta. Go get ‘em, tiger.

All my love,
Jackie O

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Dear Jackie O,
You gonna watch me on that there color box this Wednesday? It’s going to be the least politically-motivated manifestation of an agenda you will have ever laid your eyes on!

Makin’ Waves,
Tom Tom

Dear Mayor Tom Leppert,
I saw the press release. Looks interesting. But riddle me this… I know in those looks-to-good-to-be-true downtown development renderings it’s a piece of cake,
but how do you Photoshop out all the drunk hobo SWAG & underage Purgatory regulars (the more shameful of the two I’m not sure) in a tv show?

All my love,
Jackie O

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Dear Jackie O,
Whaaa…what happened? Why am I in jail?

Dizzy in Dallas,
3-to-Fiver

Dear This Guy,
Because not only did you drive drunk, but you were dumb enough to subsequently slam into a building and injure some SMU chick whose dad is likely a partner at any one of the illustrious law firms in this great city. The funny thing is, I’d put a ten-spot on the fact that you yourself also attended SMU. And if you had been fortunate enough for some older jackass of a drunk driver to pin you to a wall & sue the pants off of him when you were a sophomore, you would likely have never ended up a depressed 24-year-old working for the family biz, realizing you actually don’t have an ambitious bone in your body, & getting so bored you were forced to get tee-tee gonzalezed and slam into an apartment. Orrrr… you were just simply wasted. It happens.

All my love,
Jackie O

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Dear Jackie O,

You hear about our new Tony Hawk ride opening in May? Come on out & I'll give you a free season pass!

Still Dancin',
Weirdest Choice for a Brand Icon Ever

Dear Six Flags' Creepy Old Dancing Man,
Unfortunately for me and my dorky self, I already have a season pass for this year. So, no thanks. And until your park, the childhood memories of which were so very different, stops smelling like pee & attracting the most white trash crowd of overweight, sweaty, creepy...

Okay, okay... fine. You got me. Here's the truth. Rides make me nauseous. Bottom line. Used to not be that way. Now it is. Sue me. I'm a realist these days. I respect gravity. And as long as thin cables and tiny bolts are the glue holding some of those rides together, I fear they will always create a little nausea party in my tummy.

So... to answer your question two paragraphs later... no. Freestyle skateboarding while moving 40mph & spinning upside down simply ain't my cup of tea.

But Mini-Mine Train? I'm rowdy rowdy, 'bout it 'bout it.

All my love,
Jackie O