Jar Jar's new speeder

Aint she a bute'!
Did all the custom work myself.
I could tell Jar Jar was impressed.
He gave me the money and I gave him the keys. He just couldn't wait to take it for a spin. I asked him if he ever drove before. "Messa drive Big Wheels alsa time!" he proudly replied.
Who am I to argue.

I took this snap shot as he flew away with his new ride. I think he might be having a bit of trouble with the clutch.













...Another satisfied customer!

Everybody sells out

So there I was, waiting around for Jar Jar to make up his mind what type of speeder he wants and flipping through some old issues of JEDHI-TIMES I found back at the pad, (I'm pretty sure they belonged to Qui-Gon) when my bright little eyes spotted something quite amazing. An add. Not just any add but an add endorsed by the Sith Lord himself, Count Dooku.
























He sold out!
I remember when Jedi Masters (good or bad) stood for somthing -had principles. It wasn't about the money or the fame, it was about the music (of life). As a young impressionable Jawa, I would look up the the Jedi knights as leaders of a much bigger movement. They showed me how to dream. They helped expand our minds as well as expand the force. They were going to change the world.
Oh, they did all right. Some fell to the dark side and became greedy. Most just rolled over and let that greed take over (or they got killed...same difference) Now almost no one remembers the true reasons and beliefs the Jedi once stood for. They're all out just to make a buck.

So next time you see one of your fellow Jedi selling out, just remember...it didn't use to be like that.






















....Oh, how the mighty have fallen....

So You Want A New Speeder, eh?

Only a few days on coruscant and I'm already gaining a reputation for acquiring great deals for tricked out speeders. It seems Jar Jar wants a new speeder so I asked he to come my way. After all, who better than a jawa can hot wir....eh...find a great speeder for half price?
At first he was a little leary (or maybe he was drunk, hard to tell with Gungan) but then I told him of my last customer just the other day.
Anikan has been whining to me since the party that he needs some 'Dope-crazy-fly' speeder so he can pick up some 'dogs in heat' ...or something like that. So after a quick twenty-four hour search and a few special modifications, look at the tricked out speeder he now has.


As you can see, this pimped out ride has got everything the new 'thugged-out' Jedi could want!
So come on down, Jar Jar, and I'll get you a ride made to your own specifications. (I already have a twenty-four caret gold drool cup ready to install for you.)

Cleaning on a Hangover

Oohhhh. My head is killin' me. Where's my Jawa-Java? Oh, right...here it is...I should have took some Chaser last night...
Now...where was I...? Oh ya. While I still have a blood alcohol level that would kill a rancor, I would like to send out a big thanks to everyone who showed up at the party the other night. It was a blast! And even though there was no one around the next morning to help clean up, I would do it all again (-and may).
But in my stumbling miasmic state, I seem to have found a few articles left behind that just may belong to a few of you out there.

• A book called "Keeping it real" by a Dr. Phil
• A half eaten ten foot hoggie (I wouldn't normaly make a fuss but it's begining to move)
• A red spandex suit with the words "Sexy Jedi Killa" on it
• A discount card for Bubba Joe's Dagobah-style, all you can eat Swamp Restaurants.
• A tee shirt that says Sith Lord Galaxy Tour: 3785-present
• Another book: Everybody Poos (?)
• A lightsaber toothpick (or a lightsaber for squirrels)
• A few CD's: A Wayne Newton tribute to Nine Inch Nails, Dolly Parton & Marilyn Manson Duets, the soundtrack to Beaches
• an armadillo (I may keep him. I can use a pet)
• Another book: "How to win freinds and influence people then when they're not looking, stab them in the back and slaughter the whole order. A beginners guide" by Senator Palpatine
• 2 tickets to paradice (no, wait...that's two pair of dice...)
• a tuba
• 11 maids a'milking
• Another book: How to pick up chicks in the Ether
  
• A button that reads "Cross-dressers need love too" Found this next to a pair of white pumps size 22 extra wide. I'm not here to judge, I just want this stuff out of my home...Mace
  
• A plastic New Jedi Order Secret Decoder Ring
• a six inch diameter ball of string
• a twenty-seven inch diameter ball of hair (still kinda' wet)
  
• Another book (what's with all the books? I don't remember anyone reading...) Tracing Wookie Pedigrees throught he ages.
• a Hello Kitty lightsaber
• and a little black book with lots of girls names in it followed by numerous stars next to them. It looks like it might belong to someone called 'the Obi-nator'

That's all I got for now. And that's just what I found in the kitchen

If any of these belong to you, feel free to come by and pick them up.
I'll be here all weekend.

By the way, Qui Gon (or Dooku); any good hangover remedies?

Post Rescue/ Housewarming Party!

If there was ever a place to have a big ol' bash, it's in my new pad! Just look at it! Qui Gon knew how do decorate the place, that's for sure. And it was already stocked with these yummy things called brownies. So I called out the invites and turned the music up high.

7:45 : The first one to arrive was Obi Wan. He gave me a hasty greeting and raced over to the chips. He kinda stayed there for a few hours.

8:12 : Anakin arrived next. I didn't invite him. I pulled his hair back once while traveling the transport together and he now thinks we're "best buds" or something. Mace Windu was right behind him, with a scowl that followed Anakin where ever he walked. That is until he spotted the plate of brownies.

8:54 : Had to open another bag of cheetos for Ben. Anakin starts to compose a new gangsta' rap song. Chewie then arrives thinking he heard one of his kin scream for trouble. A moment later, he looks at Anakin and shakes his head in discust.

9:30 : Master Yoda, Fluke Starbucker and Aayla Secura finally make it here. (I'm not sure how they got transported from Tatooine but I suppose they'll tell us in their own time...by that time of night, I was already on my third Dookutini and a little too buzzed to ask.) Fluke raised his arms to the crowd taking bows and saying "Thank you...thank you all. It was a hard mission, but thank the Spores, I...Fluke Starbucker...founder of the new Jedi Order wannabe, pulled it off again. I'll be available for autographs between ten and ten fifteen." He then made a clicking noise with his mouth while pointing his finger at everyone and winking. Aayla and Yoda rolled their eyes and headed straight to the mini bar.

10:15 : Fluke, after sitting in a corner for fifteen minutes surrounded by numerous 8x10 glossies of himself and a look of pure bafflement, finally gives up and wandered over to the mini bar.

11:02 : Padme and her pet frog finaly show up fashionably late. She said she had trouble deciding what to wear that said "I'm like...such a cool senator but i'm slumming it tonight." It looked like she was about to leave when she spied Anakin dancing around the room with a lamp shade on his head yelling "Who let the Trogs out?!? WHO! WHO-WHO!?!" I could have sworn she sighed and muttered under her breath, "Ain't he dreamy..."

11:53 : By now the place was really rockin'! Obi Wan, Mace and Yoda were playing quarters. -Funny how they always made Mace drink. Fluke was starting to make the moves on Aayla but I don't think his approach of "hey, pull my finger now" was working too well. Jar Jar was somewhere passed out in the shower after his first Bud Light.

Sometime after midnight : At this point, things start to get a bit hazy for me. I think Obi Wan was on his fifth bag of Cheetos and developing a fine crust on his robes. The last thing I remember was Yoda sitting on the couch sucking down another Mai Tai muttering "Much wisdom I give them. Listen, they do not. Mix drinks, you mustn't or spend much time praying to the porcelain god, you will. Stupid Skywalker..." At that point I heard the retching sounds of Anakin somewhere far away and shuddered.

The last thing I remember before drifting off was seeing the image of Qui Gon shimmering in the air and standing proudly overseeing us all with a content smile on his face. I think he then started singing "Comfortably Numb" but I'm not sure.

And that was it for me. I know the party lasted throughout the night but I was curled up in a corner drooling. I'm sure much more happend that night. Does anyone else remember anything? What other stories can you recall out there?

I Hate Public Innergalactic Transportaion

...And here's the reason why. Inevitably I always get stuck next to someone who gets sick. It never fails. Case in point. I finaly get off that poor excuse of a planet, Tatooine, only to have to spend the next 8 hours next to some supposed Jedi who constantly made strange gurgling noises and kept distorting his face in a very diquieting way. I made the mistake of asking how he was doing. He glowered at me and said, "Dude...I think I ate a rancid chili dog before I came aboard."

I began to edge away.

"It's cramping me up inside something fierce, dog."

Eyeing an emply seat, I made my move to slip away.

"Dude, you got any Malox? You must have some, don't you?" When I shook my head no, he grabbed me by the cowl and edged in so close, I thought I heard the dog begin to bark. "Man, why are you a hater? This is all Obi Wan's fault! He dared me to eat it. He said I could never eat as much as him. But I showed him. You know... in many ways... I'm better than him...but he keeps holding me back... Says I'm not ready for the chili-dog eating contest. Well, I showed him....urp...oh god...where's the bag...?"

Just at that moment, the announcement came...
"We will be jumping into hyper-space on our non-stop flight to Coruscant any minute now. Please fasten you safety belts as there will be a fue minutes of weightlessness. Thank you."

...never again...

I'm a Free Jawa!!

My crazy uncle E'eooti came through and bailed me out the other day. Now I can get back to buisness...or so I thought. It seems my co-workers have decided to take the month off and hit the Monster Crawler circuit. Apparently there's good money in destroying landspeaders this way. Of course they all got up and left without me while I was languishing away with harden criminals. But hey, at least I got this cool tatoo of Suzanne Summers!

Now that I'd be out of work for a month, I told my uncle I had no way to pay him back. But this, he corrected me on. It seems he wants me to clean up some newly acquired property on Corrisant. (Apparently my uncle has been holding out on the rest of the family. It seems he owns a huge chunk of stock in the Toshi Station Franchise and has been living like one the Hutts without our knowing about it.) It's some deluxe penthouse appartment that once belonged to a Jedi who has been dead for quite a while. (...some Qui Gon Gin or whatever) He says I need to open up the place and let it air out. ...Lots of strange odors. And there's a couple of odd rooms to clean up too. --a hot house garden where strange sticky plants have grown wild...a purple plush carpet passion pit...a kitchen crammed full of twenty year old brownies...hmmm. Maybe I'll stay there for a month or so.

The only draw back is that from time to time the appartment gets squattes...migrants who travel the universe following some guy named Phish. In any case, this will be my first trip off this rock and I'm looking forward to finally getting away.

Musings from a Dark & Dusty Cell

Yup, still in this crappy cell at the Anchorhead Minimum Security Detention Facility. It's been days since I've seen the suns in the sky, felt the abrasive sand scrape against my little flashlight eyes, eaten anything besides what my cell mate leaves behind (...and I don't mean uneaten food either...eeew!) It's been three days since I used my one call to get a hold of my Uncle E'eooti. I left a message on his machine but he still hasn't come. That can only mean one of two things: He's either in the high canyon area scrounging for his roadkill taxidermy collection or he's in the bathroom. Gods, I hope it's not the latter.

Fluke Starbucker did offer to come by and bail me out once his mission to Jabba's chateau was finished but I'd sooner believe Qui Gon check himself into drug rehab before I believe fluke has enough money to even buy a stick of Innergalactic Gum. (No offence, Fluke, but the last time I asked if you had any credits you said sure...street credit.--Who do you think you are, Anakin?) I thought about asking Master Yoda to bail me out also, since he gave Fluke a lift, but I don't think he will. He's always had a kind of "short persons complex" when around me. (I am, after all, four inches taller than him.)

But sitting in this cell has given me plenty of time to think about my life (and where everything went wrong). We were a poor family living out in the middle of nowhere. Where most jawas live in the back alleys of cities or giant trailer park clusters (called Wynn'na Bay-gos), my dad packed up the family and settled smack in the middle of the dune sea. He said he wanted to get away from it all. I told him we're on Tattooine...we are away from it all!

For most of my childhood, me and my fourteen other siblings lived in a converted Rl-2 Landspeeder Stationwagon where the closest store was a beat-down 7-11 five hours walk away. ...and there's no way I'm going to walk that far just for a Bantha Berry slurpee!!!

We were poor, alright. My dad's job as a part-time ottoman for one of the Hutts didn't exactly bring home a lot of pay. As a result, toys were fue and far between. The best thing we could hope for on our birthdays was either a pail and shovel or a Pet Rock. But having so much free time allowed me to get into trouble. Unfortunately there was no one else around to see it. But as I got older, this allowed me to get into some other kind of mischief. (the kind that might make young jawas go blind if they aren't careful.) Which brings me to my adolescence...

eh? Looks like someone is opening my cell door. I hope that means I'm finally out of here and not another strip search. I mean, seven times a day seems a little excessive, but what do I know.

I Now Have a Record

Who knew that buyin' and sellin' Susan Powter lazerdiscs was illegal in this sector. I mean, come on! Anyone who has a video tape called "Trailer Park Yoga" and a book called "The Politics of Stupid" is just beggin' to be sold on Tatooine. But there they were, the local authorities, swooping in to make a bust not five minutes after I delivered the discs to Jabba. They came in, handcuffed me and the boys, confiscated the credits we got from the sale and impounded our sandcrawler. When I asked them why they don't go into Jabba's home and arrest him, they told me that it's not illegal to own the discs...just trafficking them. (quickly followed by a swift exchange of credits between Jabba's lanky doorman and one of the officers.)

Next thing you know, I'm sharring a cell with five Tusken Raiders, two Rodian body piercing artists and a dewback molester named Bob. Needless to say, I had a hard time falling asleep that night.

Later that night, they finally came to fingerprint me, take my picture and fill out the paper work. "What's your name, they asked me.
"You wouldn't be able to pronounce it," I had to tell them.
After a couple of whacks to the ribs with a tire iron (stormtroopers are not known for their subtlety) they asked me again. I had to convince them that it rhymes with Hog-eclair-gazebo-smelt-obstetric-silverfish-bung-wombat. The officer then just wrote in Bob.

So here I sit. Stuck in the Anchorhead Minimum Security Detention Facility sharing a cell with some alien that kinda resembles a tuna-fish sandwich on steiroids and waiting for my crazy Uncle E'etooi to come bail me out. Thank the scrap heap above that they had a running Commidor 64 in the rec room or else I wouldn't have been able to blog this.

Oh why didn't I listen to my mother and become a Wamprat Rancher?

I hate my co-workers

Today we had to unload some "hot merchandise". No big deal. Just some Susan Powter Laserdiscs we aquired from some guy in a robe. Couldn't see his face but his hands were unnaturally orange and thick like he had been eating cheetos for weeks. Not much call for stuff like this. I think only Jabba the Hut still owns a Laserdisc player. So we packed up the goods to head out to his little chateau past the dune sea. It was then I got a good look at our sandcrawler.
"What the hell is that?" I asked my co-workers. They just opened their arms wide and yelled,"Mabbittt?"
Somehow during the night they had modified our sandcrawler. "We can now grab some serious air out in the dune sea," they tell me. Then they proceded to let me know that they signed up "King-Crawler" at the Mos Eisley Monster Truck Pull this Sunday.
I feel like such a hic!

Playing chess with Yoda

As you can guess, there isn't much to do when I'm not out scrounging for droids. It's a lonely life, that of a droid-repo jawa. But at least I can call my own hours.

I decided to take up playing chess during my down time. I thought it was time I did something else besides drink "Ol' Mos Eisley" and shoot wamp rats with a B-B gun like the rest of my co-workers. I'm still not that good at it and there's hardly anyone else to play with. I was fortunate one day to find Master Yoda in one of those seldom visited coffee house cantinas and he was more than willing to help me further my game. As a wise Jedi Master, he was always there with a helpful hint or suggestion on my skills.
"The knight, you don't want to move," he would tell me.
"I don't want to move the knight," I would reply.
"The pawn, you wish to move," he added.
"I think I'll move this pawn."
"Now along you must move."
"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying."

He really helped me out a lot. I still haven't won one game with him yet, but that is to be expected. He is, after all, a master.

It's the same thing, day in and day out. Drive the sandcrawler through the desert...look for droids...clean up the droids...try to sell the droids to inbred yokals who don't know the difference between an R2 unit and a 1982 K-mart toaster oven. And then they have to haggle over the price. "What? you think I'm doing this for free?" I ask them. "You think I like being out here in in this 120 degree heat so I can make you feel better about getting a great deal?" And those Skywalkers are the worst. Always secretly stuffing gum in the droids before they buy them so they can complain when they blow a fuse then demand an "upgrade" for a better one. Gods, they piss me off.

It's not like my co-workers are any great prize to be around either. When they're not jumping around screaming "OO-Teen-EE!" (what ever the hell that means) , they're driving the sandcrawler off "gnarly sand ramps" and grabbing air. Of course who is it that has to dig out the wheels when we get stuck? I do. They forget that this is a buisness. We're Jawas! What else are we going to do? There's only so much dressing up as a clown for kids birthday parties I can stand.