Look, Here's The Deal:
I made a serious mistake when I started this blog by telling people in the real world about it. I was just really excited and shot my mouth off to anyone who would listen, and passed the address around to anyone who would take it. I didn't think it would be a problem.
Well, it is. I can't use this space as a place to vent, unload, or intimate personal stuff because I have to worry about who, in my real life, might be reading it. I have hurt people's feelings here, and I have been judged and criticized and made myself a target for expressing myself.
I need to start over.
So, here's the plan: I am gonna drop out of sight. I will surface with another identity at some point, and a new blog and I can ASSURE you, I will keep my real life friends and family away from it. If you fall into the category of "friend" or "family", I'm sorry but, yes, I mean you. Every one of ya. Doesn't mean I don't love you, you know. It merely means I want my privacy back.
If you know me in the real world, if we have shaken hands, or met at a party, or have gone out, or have had sex, or know where each other live, or work at the same company, or are related by blood, or any combination therein - then you are gonna have to keep tabs on me by calling me, or dropping by my house or my office, or ask me how I'm doing AFTER we've made a mess of the sheets. You won't be "catching up" with me by reading about me on the internet anymore.
If you are a friend who I've made from blogging here, if I check in on your blog now and then, if we have ever passed smartass comments to each other, if you only know about me from reading this silly blog and the closest contact we have ever had is an email or a phonecall, then I will be happy to take your email address (if I don't have it already) and privately share with you my new blog address when the time comes. Just please be sure to email me at
jimmycity@hotmail.com
and tell me how to keep in touch.
And, by the way, it won't be long before I am back. I'm looking forward to my rebirth and the freedom to speak my mind about any motherfucking thing that I want. Believe it or not, I've been editing the Hell outta myself, and that shit has got to stop!
Hope you all understand. This was fun, up to a point, but I'll do better from here on out.
Big Love,
jim
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
New Year's Resolution
If yours is nothing more than promising not to vomit on someone tonight, it's all good.
If yours is nothing more than promising not to vomit on someone tonight, it's all good.
Be careful out there, kids. And, between you and me, stop with the diaper, okay? Jesus.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Sometimes The Best Thing On TV Is The Commercials
Here are three I am enjoying:
Game Stop
Arby's
Coke/Walmart
This last one might be too gooey, but I gotta tell you, as a guy who appreciates a little ditty done well, this is a sweet 30 second Holiday spot!
Here are three I am enjoying:
Game Stop
Arby's
Coke/Walmart
This last one might be too gooey, but I gotta tell you, as a guy who appreciates a little ditty done well, this is a sweet 30 second Holiday spot!
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Completely Inappropriate
So, if Dan White had MARRIED Harvey Milk - instead of MURDERING him - he could have been Dan White-Milk, right?
So, if Dan White had MARRIED Harvey Milk - instead of MURDERING him - he could have been Dan White-Milk, right?
Meet Lily!
A coworker's finest achievement, without a doubt! Please notice that the girl already possesses more raw talent than most American Dildo contestants.
I love that she already grasps the concept of "The Big Finish!"
Gay Travel Destinations
A coworker's finest achievement, without a doubt! Please notice that the girl already possesses more raw talent than most American Dildo contestants.
I love that she already grasps the concept of "The Big Finish!"
Gay Travel Destinations
Friday, December 05, 2008
Sunday MopUp 12/06/08
The wind be blowin' in Texas, ya'll! I like it! Welcome to my weekly feeble attempt at sharing the cummings and goings of my world. I call it my "Mop Up", cuz it can get a little messy.
Leather Daddy
I have been out twice since Thanksgiving with a guy that I would label a "Leather Daddy". He is older than me by about 15 years or so. He is hypermasculine and aggressive and I am WAY outta my league with this guy. I have no idea what I'm doing when we get together. But, he sure seems to.
He looks like the LoveChild of Mr. Clean and Wilford Brimley. Shaved head, solid white goatee. Rides a Harley-Davidson. COMPLETE gentleman, when he speaks. But he doesn't talk much. More of a man of action, if you follow me...
[swoon]
I'm not sure he'll ever call back. I may have not been hardcore enough for him. It's okay. We went out twice and each time it ended up at his place and both times I ended up running away afterwards. Well, I didn't RUN run, but i sure skidattled pretty quickly. He was just SO intense. I freaked, okay? I'll spare you the details.
Anyways...I'm still learning who I am and what I want and what I like and what is important to me.
I guess I'm not a "BoyToy". At 50, I'm cool with that.
DQ
I called DQ last week and it was great to talk with him again. He tells me that he hasn't dressed up since July and, with the one exception of some "farewell show" coming up in January, is hanging his heels up for good. I wonder if that's possible...
He said some really sweet things to me, like that I opened his eyes to seeing that being a guy is a good and fun thing, and that he misses me, and that he learned some things about himself while we were dating. We agreed to keep in closer contact and I suspect I will be seeing him again soon. The sexual chemistry between us was real and good and worth a re-visit. I'm still not convinced that, besides the sex, we have much in common. But, we'll see...
Scared Of Santa
'Tis the season to freak out the little ones! For what it's worth, I'd be terrified to sit in the laps of some of these fucks, too! Click the pic to go to the site for more Horror.
The wind be blowin' in Texas, ya'll! I like it! Welcome to my weekly feeble attempt at sharing the cummings and goings of my world. I call it my "Mop Up", cuz it can get a little messy.
Leather Daddy
I have been out twice since Thanksgiving with a guy that I would label a "Leather Daddy". He is older than me by about 15 years or so. He is hypermasculine and aggressive and I am WAY outta my league with this guy. I have no idea what I'm doing when we get together. But, he sure seems to.
He looks like the LoveChild of Mr. Clean and Wilford Brimley. Shaved head, solid white goatee. Rides a Harley-Davidson. COMPLETE gentleman, when he speaks. But he doesn't talk much. More of a man of action, if you follow me...
[swoon]
I'm not sure he'll ever call back. I may have not been hardcore enough for him. It's okay. We went out twice and each time it ended up at his place and both times I ended up running away afterwards. Well, I didn't RUN run, but i sure skidattled pretty quickly. He was just SO intense. I freaked, okay? I'll spare you the details.
Anyways...I'm still learning who I am and what I want and what I like and what is important to me.
I guess I'm not a "BoyToy". At 50, I'm cool with that.
DQ
I called DQ last week and it was great to talk with him again. He tells me that he hasn't dressed up since July and, with the one exception of some "farewell show" coming up in January, is hanging his heels up for good. I wonder if that's possible...
He said some really sweet things to me, like that I opened his eyes to seeing that being a guy is a good and fun thing, and that he misses me, and that he learned some things about himself while we were dating. We agreed to keep in closer contact and I suspect I will be seeing him again soon. The sexual chemistry between us was real and good and worth a re-visit. I'm still not convinced that, besides the sex, we have much in common. But, we'll see...
Scared Of Santa
'Tis the season to freak out the little ones! For what it's worth, I'd be terrified to sit in the laps of some of these fucks, too! Click the pic to go to the site for more Horror.
Oh, One More Thing!
Fee Feasible Prophecies makes me laugh nearly every day!
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Sunday Mop Up 11/30/08
Did you survive the holiday? Are you feeling bloated and groggy from all the artery-clogging gravies, starches, and fat that you consumed over the weekend? Did you kill a relative, or fantasize about the act at any point? Did you go out and brave Black Friday with all the others, bound and determined to make your Christmas budget go as far as you can?
Me? Nope. And to tell you the truth, I kinda felt left out. Welcome to my Sunday Mop Up, made with homemade stock and slow-cooked for extra flavor!
The Time Off That Management Forgot
I have vacation time to burn before the end of the year, and I was scheduled to take Friday, the 21st through tomorrow, Dec. 1st off. I had to go in on that Friday, Monday, and yesterday due to sports events that were dropped into my department's lap at the last minute. Seems that upper-management, even in the CABLE TV industry, thinks that tv just magically "happens". Fact of the matter is, everyone is so skittish and anxious about the security of their jobs, that most of us are more than happy to jump in to prove our worth and hope that the bean counters notice and appreciate us. Naive, I know.
Now, to figure out whether I will be able to take my Christmas vacation off, and not fail to meet the expectations of The Suits. I am presently scheduled to be off from Dec 19th through January 5th. I'm nervous as a cat about it.
Fat Ass Update
I've only dropped one freaking pound in the past two and a half weeks. I refuse to worry about this, because I am slogging away at the gym, more dedicated and productive than I have ever been. My trainer points out that I'm building muscle, which will affect the number on the scale. This I know.
Mirror, Mirror On The Wall
On an impulse, I buzzed my noggin to a prickly nub. The hair on my balding head is now only as long as the full beard I have grown out. We're talking Clipper Attachment 2, people. I thought it would be fun, and practical, to keep things Super Short for a bit. Seemed jock-ish. Well, my scalp is SO balding, that I truely look like a hairy pineapple. It's frightening. Some guys look SO hot and butch all buzzed up. I ain't one of them. You've got to have a square head to pull this look off. I am Zippy, The Pinhead.
I don't regret the attempt. It makes me laugh, and I am bound and determined to figure out who I am and what is important to me.
Just to add to the Self Torture, I am now slathering Rogaine up top, and Grecian Formula all over the beard. I smell like a Beauty Shop On Acid when I start to sweat on the treadmill. I doubt I will keep this up, but I want to feel younger as I am barreling towards my 50th birthday at the end of December. Too little, too late? No shit.
Christmas Is Coming!
Did you survive the holiday? Are you feeling bloated and groggy from all the artery-clogging gravies, starches, and fat that you consumed over the weekend? Did you kill a relative, or fantasize about the act at any point? Did you go out and brave Black Friday with all the others, bound and determined to make your Christmas budget go as far as you can?
Me? Nope. And to tell you the truth, I kinda felt left out. Welcome to my Sunday Mop Up, made with homemade stock and slow-cooked for extra flavor!
The Time Off That Management Forgot
I have vacation time to burn before the end of the year, and I was scheduled to take Friday, the 21st through tomorrow, Dec. 1st off. I had to go in on that Friday, Monday, and yesterday due to sports events that were dropped into my department's lap at the last minute. Seems that upper-management, even in the CABLE TV industry, thinks that tv just magically "happens". Fact of the matter is, everyone is so skittish and anxious about the security of their jobs, that most of us are more than happy to jump in to prove our worth and hope that the bean counters notice and appreciate us. Naive, I know.
Now, to figure out whether I will be able to take my Christmas vacation off, and not fail to meet the expectations of The Suits. I am presently scheduled to be off from Dec 19th through January 5th. I'm nervous as a cat about it.
Fat Ass Update
I've only dropped one freaking pound in the past two and a half weeks. I refuse to worry about this, because I am slogging away at the gym, more dedicated and productive than I have ever been. My trainer points out that I'm building muscle, which will affect the number on the scale. This I know.
Mirror, Mirror On The Wall
On an impulse, I buzzed my noggin to a prickly nub. The hair on my balding head is now only as long as the full beard I have grown out. We're talking Clipper Attachment 2, people. I thought it would be fun, and practical, to keep things Super Short for a bit. Seemed jock-ish. Well, my scalp is SO balding, that I truely look like a hairy pineapple. It's frightening. Some guys look SO hot and butch all buzzed up. I ain't one of them. You've got to have a square head to pull this look off. I am Zippy, The Pinhead.
I don't regret the attempt. It makes me laugh, and I am bound and determined to figure out who I am and what is important to me.
Just to add to the Self Torture, I am now slathering Rogaine up top, and Grecian Formula all over the beard. I smell like a Beauty Shop On Acid when I start to sweat on the treadmill. I doubt I will keep this up, but I want to feel younger as I am barreling towards my 50th birthday at the end of December. Too little, too late? No shit.
Christmas Is Coming!
Sent to me (and the whole family, in fact) by my deaf sister, Lisa. Is it any wonder that I became the man I am when you factor in the sense of humor of my family?
Actually, this is an animated .gif that ejaculates snowballs, but I can't seem to get Blogger to accept and post it. Huh. I wonder why? Well, maybe it's best this way. You get the idea.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
News You Can Use!
Police arrest suspect vandal who allegedly left his greasy, graphic imprints around Neb. town
Associated Press
OMAHA, Neb. - Police have arrested a man suspected of leaving greasy, graphic imprints on the windows of stores, churches and schools in a small Nebraska town. A 35-year-old man was caught in the act by police early Wednesday morning, Cherry County Attorney Eric Scott said Friday. The man hasn't been charged yet, but authorities believe he is the vandal some townsfolk have dubbed the "Butt Bandit."
Beginning in spring of 2007, a mystery vandal visited businesses at night, pressing his naked behind — sometimes his groin, sometimes both — on windows. The marks were made with lotion or petroleum jelly, and while police had earlier worried copycat criminals were getting involved, Scott said they now believe it's "the act of a lone deviant."
"This isn't normal behavior for Valentine, Neb.," Scott said. "It's an embarrassment for the hardworking people who live here."
The man was spotted by police about 3:30 a.m. Wednesday and arrested without incident, Scott said. The suspect appears to be the same man caught on a surveillance camera at the middle school last year, he said.
Valentine, a town of about 2,650 in remote north-central Nebraska, lies near the scenic Niobrara River. The city was named one of the top "wilderness" towns in the country last year by National Geographic Adventure magazine.
People from around the country send Valentine's Day cards to the city's post office so they can be mailed out with the word "Valentine" stamped on them.
The past two summers, the bandit struck business after business, window after window.
He stopped over the fall and winter.
During one particularly brazen session, virtually all the windows at a local hotel were imprinted.
Police arrest suspect vandal who allegedly left his greasy, graphic imprints around Neb. town
Associated Press
OMAHA, Neb. - Police have arrested a man suspected of leaving greasy, graphic imprints on the windows of stores, churches and schools in a small Nebraska town. A 35-year-old man was caught in the act by police early Wednesday morning, Cherry County Attorney Eric Scott said Friday. The man hasn't been charged yet, but authorities believe he is the vandal some townsfolk have dubbed the "Butt Bandit."
Beginning in spring of 2007, a mystery vandal visited businesses at night, pressing his naked behind — sometimes his groin, sometimes both — on windows. The marks were made with lotion or petroleum jelly, and while police had earlier worried copycat criminals were getting involved, Scott said they now believe it's "the act of a lone deviant."
"This isn't normal behavior for Valentine, Neb.," Scott said. "It's an embarrassment for the hardworking people who live here."
The man was spotted by police about 3:30 a.m. Wednesday and arrested without incident, Scott said. The suspect appears to be the same man caught on a surveillance camera at the middle school last year, he said.
Valentine, a town of about 2,650 in remote north-central Nebraska, lies near the scenic Niobrara River. The city was named one of the top "wilderness" towns in the country last year by National Geographic Adventure magazine.
People from around the country send Valentine's Day cards to the city's post office so they can be mailed out with the word "Valentine" stamped on them.
The past two summers, the bandit struck business after business, window after window.
He stopped over the fall and winter.
During one particularly brazen session, virtually all the windows at a local hotel were imprinted.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Sunday Mop Up 11/23/08
It's chilly in Texas. I like it. It's Sunday in Texas. I like that, too. It's time for my Sunday Mop Up. Meh.
My Favorite Holiday Of The Year!
I know, I've said it over and over, but MAN I love me some Thanksgiving! What a great concept: take a day to think about your Life and all the blessings you have in it. Shut up for a little bit and bask in Gratitude and Thankfullness (is that a word?) and Humility.
The important part is to go inward and reflect on all that you have been given. Tell people that you love that you love them. Acknowledge those who put up with your bullshit on a regular basis. You DO know that you can be a pain in the ass, right? Trust.
People always assume that I love Thanksgiving because I'm a fat guy and food is all over the place on that day. Wrong. I swear to God that it aint about the food.
For those of you who check in on me here, I'd like to thank you, as well. I feel very blessed that anyone would take the time to follow along. I am quite fond of many of you. I hope your Thanksgiving is meaningful, relaxing, safe, and full of joy.
A Special Thanksgiving Message From Sarah Palin
In the event there might be two or three people in the country who haven't seen this yet, I feel compelled to share it. Let me give you some context:
Palin was invited this year to do the annual "Pardoning Of The Turkey" in Alaska. Probably a state event similar to the thing the Prez of the United States does every year, right?
Well, she goes, pardons the dang turkey, and then gets interviewed by a local news station. She talks about the presidential campaign, and what her plans for Thanksgiving will be - all while standing in front of a Turkey Slaughter Contraption while some very creepy Turkey Slaughter Technician, in blood-splattered pants, is killing turkeys directly behind her.
It's so amazingly ironic and stupid, or arrogant, that I can barely believe it wasn't a set-up. Please, judge for yourself:
Her moment as a viable political candidate on the national scene is as dead at the poor turkeys behind her. This thing may play in Alaska, but most of us are, surely, disgusted.
It's chilly in Texas. I like it. It's Sunday in Texas. I like that, too. It's time for my Sunday Mop Up. Meh.
My Favorite Holiday Of The Year!
I know, I've said it over and over, but MAN I love me some Thanksgiving! What a great concept: take a day to think about your Life and all the blessings you have in it. Shut up for a little bit and bask in Gratitude and Thankfullness (is that a word?) and Humility.
The important part is to go inward and reflect on all that you have been given. Tell people that you love that you love them. Acknowledge those who put up with your bullshit on a regular basis. You DO know that you can be a pain in the ass, right? Trust.
People always assume that I love Thanksgiving because I'm a fat guy and food is all over the place on that day. Wrong. I swear to God that it aint about the food.
For those of you who check in on me here, I'd like to thank you, as well. I feel very blessed that anyone would take the time to follow along. I am quite fond of many of you. I hope your Thanksgiving is meaningful, relaxing, safe, and full of joy.
A Special Thanksgiving Message From Sarah Palin
In the event there might be two or three people in the country who haven't seen this yet, I feel compelled to share it. Let me give you some context:
Palin was invited this year to do the annual "Pardoning Of The Turkey" in Alaska. Probably a state event similar to the thing the Prez of the United States does every year, right?
Well, she goes, pardons the dang turkey, and then gets interviewed by a local news station. She talks about the presidential campaign, and what her plans for Thanksgiving will be - all while standing in front of a Turkey Slaughter Contraption while some very creepy Turkey Slaughter Technician, in blood-splattered pants, is killing turkeys directly behind her.
It's so amazingly ironic and stupid, or arrogant, that I can barely believe it wasn't a set-up. Please, judge for yourself:
Her moment as a viable political candidate on the national scene is as dead at the poor turkeys behind her. This thing may play in Alaska, but most of us are, surely, disgusted.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Sunday Mop Up 11/09/08
Today is just a "Blow And Go". Sorry.
An Actress I Would Switch Teams For:
Elizabeth Banks
I saw Role Models this weekend. Paul Rudd is a funny damned guy. I always want to not like him in stuff, and I always get won over by him. Elizabeth Banks plays his girlfriend. She's in EVERYTHING nowadays. She was Laura Bush in "W". She was Miri in "Zack and Miri Make A Porno". She was on "Scrubs" for a while there. Chick is the new Michael Caine or something. She is in EVERYTHING.
So, back when I was a Breeder, I had a thing for blonde women. No idea why. What is weird is that blonde guys do ZILCH for me. I'd take a hairy redhead or brunette guy over a blonde ANY day. But women? Me likey the blondes.
I'm gonna see "Zack and Miri" next, cuz, you know, Seth Rogan is my babydaddy and now that I pledge my Allegiance to Elizabeth Banks, I can see it and have a hot bisexual fantasy which I will call "Seth and Elizabeth and jimmycity Make A Sex-Sammich"!
Fat Ass Update
I'm still about a pound or so away from hitting my Magic Number so that I can climb onto the scale at the gym and weigh myself. Rather than beat myself up about how slow this is going, I prefer to remind myself that by working out with a trainer, I am building some muscle mass which is cutting into the numbers on my fat loss.
It's cool; I'm dealing.
Today is just a "Blow And Go". Sorry.
An Actress I Would Switch Teams For:
Elizabeth Banks
I saw Role Models this weekend. Paul Rudd is a funny damned guy. I always want to not like him in stuff, and I always get won over by him. Elizabeth Banks plays his girlfriend. She's in EVERYTHING nowadays. She was Laura Bush in "W". She was Miri in "Zack and Miri Make A Porno". She was on "Scrubs" for a while there. Chick is the new Michael Caine or something. She is in EVERYTHING.
So, back when I was a Breeder, I had a thing for blonde women. No idea why. What is weird is that blonde guys do ZILCH for me. I'd take a hairy redhead or brunette guy over a blonde ANY day. But women? Me likey the blondes.
I'm gonna see "Zack and Miri" next, cuz, you know, Seth Rogan is my babydaddy and now that I pledge my Allegiance to Elizabeth Banks, I can see it and have a hot bisexual fantasy which I will call "Seth and Elizabeth and jimmycity Make A Sex-Sammich"!
Fat Ass Update
I'm still about a pound or so away from hitting my Magic Number so that I can climb onto the scale at the gym and weigh myself. Rather than beat myself up about how slow this is going, I prefer to remind myself that by working out with a trainer, I am building some muscle mass which is cutting into the numbers on my fat loss.
It's cool; I'm dealing.
Monday, November 03, 2008
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Sunday MopUp 11/02/08
I got an extra hour of sleep last night? Are you kidding? Why am I so drag-ass today, then? This is my week ending post I call my Mop Up, because my life could use a good swabbing on a regular basis.
I Voted Early
on Friday. So, why don't I feel good about it? Maybe because I don't buy a thing these puppets are slinging. Maybe because I am disgusted with the process. Maybe because I'm tired and scared and don't see any real leadership or ideas out there.
Look, before we can correct our problems, I believe we need three things to happen:
1. Term Limits on Congress
These fuckers are the real issue, people. Career bureaucrats who make laws that the rest of us must abide. "Public Servants" my ass!
2. Line Item Veto for the President
Want to stop the pork barrel projects and trim governmental spending? Give the President the ability to cut the crap out with a stroke of a pen.
3. Kill All Lobbyists
Feed their remains to the Homeless? Just an idea...
I'll be glad when this horrendous election is over.
jimmycity Goes To A Concert
Saw TV On The Radio on Thursday. Some kid standing next to me passed me a joint. I took a few puffs. First time I've been high in about 8 years. Freaked me OUT! I spent how many decades stoned and in this condition? Good grief! I'm done getting high, people. I'm dangerous enough sober, thank you very much. I need the few braincells I have left.
I think I drove home going about 25 miles an hour on the freeway. It'll never happen again.
The band was great, by the way. I think I have a crush on the bearded guitarist/singer in the band. He was shy, soft-spoken, chunky, and...bearded!
Christmas Shopping
Look, I'm not the kind of fag that enjoys shopping. In fact, Christmas shopping is about the most unpleasant experience I ever have. But, this year, I've known what I want to get my family for their gifts. And on Friday, I found a mailer advertising a very special sale on Saturday at Kohl's where these things would be available.
I'm giving everyone digital picture frames. The family will go ape shit over them, I'm fairly sure. But the things aint cheap. I had them priced between 80 - 200 bucks. Well, this sale offered an off-brand for $59.99. I was there Saturday morning.
Well, then I find out that if I apply for a store credit card, they will knock 15% off the sale price. If I get ACCEPTED, they will knock another 15% off. So, kiddies, I bought 5 of them and spent $217.00!
And I'm so excited about the deal, if there were ANY doubts about my sexuality, it is pretty apparent now. Gay guys love a good bargain, ya know.
Fat Ass Update
I'm working out on Thursday, my trainer in front of me, as I am squeezing a puny amount of weight on some torture contraption, when I notice that he keeps pushing on his belly around the waistline of his shorts.
"Daniel?" I ask. "Do you have a hernia?"
"Ummm..yeah. But it don't hurt or nothing," was the reply.
So, I go into a long tirade about how dangerous one can be. I point out that every time I see him, he is doing crunches, or straining and sweating and grunting. I suggest he think about going easy on provoking it with excessive strain. He looks at me like I've lost my mind. Hey, I'm a fat guy. What could I know? I leave it alone and focus on my workout.
Later, in the shower, I think about the fact that this is a kid who I have hired to help, coach, and protect ME from injury, and he doesn't have a clue about what he is doing to himself. I vow to continue on with him, because my workouts are, in comparison, pretty freaking light. But I have vowed to consider what he suggests for me carefully, as I progress. I am NOT going to hurt myself, damn it!
Then, while soaping up, I broke into a little song (sung to the tune of "Centerfold" by J. Geils Band):
He's got a bulge
But not the kind that I indulge!
My Trainer has a hernia
-Trainer has a hernia
(na na nana na na
na na na nana nana na na!)
[Late Edition Addition: I just got home from running some errands where I found gasoline for $1.999 a gallon! I was so thrilled that I filled up and considered sticking the pump nozzle up my ass just to stash an extra gallon or two. Don't worry; I didn't.]
I got an extra hour of sleep last night? Are you kidding? Why am I so drag-ass today, then? This is my week ending post I call my Mop Up, because my life could use a good swabbing on a regular basis.
I Voted Early
on Friday. So, why don't I feel good about it? Maybe because I don't buy a thing these puppets are slinging. Maybe because I am disgusted with the process. Maybe because I'm tired and scared and don't see any real leadership or ideas out there.
Look, before we can correct our problems, I believe we need three things to happen:
1. Term Limits on Congress
These fuckers are the real issue, people. Career bureaucrats who make laws that the rest of us must abide. "Public Servants" my ass!
2. Line Item Veto for the President
Want to stop the pork barrel projects and trim governmental spending? Give the President the ability to cut the crap out with a stroke of a pen.
3. Kill All Lobbyists
Feed their remains to the Homeless? Just an idea...
I'll be glad when this horrendous election is over.
jimmycity Goes To A Concert
Saw TV On The Radio on Thursday. Some kid standing next to me passed me a joint. I took a few puffs. First time I've been high in about 8 years. Freaked me OUT! I spent how many decades stoned and in this condition? Good grief! I'm done getting high, people. I'm dangerous enough sober, thank you very much. I need the few braincells I have left.
I think I drove home going about 25 miles an hour on the freeway. It'll never happen again.
The band was great, by the way. I think I have a crush on the bearded guitarist/singer in the band. He was shy, soft-spoken, chunky, and...bearded!
Christmas Shopping
Look, I'm not the kind of fag that enjoys shopping. In fact, Christmas shopping is about the most unpleasant experience I ever have. But, this year, I've known what I want to get my family for their gifts. And on Friday, I found a mailer advertising a very special sale on Saturday at Kohl's where these things would be available.
I'm giving everyone digital picture frames. The family will go ape shit over them, I'm fairly sure. But the things aint cheap. I had them priced between 80 - 200 bucks. Well, this sale offered an off-brand for $59.99. I was there Saturday morning.
Well, then I find out that if I apply for a store credit card, they will knock 15% off the sale price. If I get ACCEPTED, they will knock another 15% off. So, kiddies, I bought 5 of them and spent $217.00!
And I'm so excited about the deal, if there were ANY doubts about my sexuality, it is pretty apparent now. Gay guys love a good bargain, ya know.
Fat Ass Update
I'm working out on Thursday, my trainer in front of me, as I am squeezing a puny amount of weight on some torture contraption, when I notice that he keeps pushing on his belly around the waistline of his shorts.
"Daniel?" I ask. "Do you have a hernia?"
"Ummm..yeah. But it don't hurt or nothing," was the reply.
So, I go into a long tirade about how dangerous one can be. I point out that every time I see him, he is doing crunches, or straining and sweating and grunting. I suggest he think about going easy on provoking it with excessive strain. He looks at me like I've lost my mind. Hey, I'm a fat guy. What could I know? I leave it alone and focus on my workout.
Later, in the shower, I think about the fact that this is a kid who I have hired to help, coach, and protect ME from injury, and he doesn't have a clue about what he is doing to himself. I vow to continue on with him, because my workouts are, in comparison, pretty freaking light. But I have vowed to consider what he suggests for me carefully, as I progress. I am NOT going to hurt myself, damn it!
Then, while soaping up, I broke into a little song (sung to the tune of "Centerfold" by J. Geils Band):
He's got a bulge
But not the kind that I indulge!
My Trainer has a hernia
-Trainer has a hernia
(na na nana na na
na na na nana nana na na!)
[Late Edition Addition: I just got home from running some errands where I found gasoline for $1.999 a gallon! I was so thrilled that I filled up and considered sticking the pump nozzle up my ass just to stash an extra gallon or two. Don't worry; I didn't.]
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Sunday Mop Up 10/26/08
It's early. I am up to check to make sure the football games we captured and published to the VOD channels last night made it to air this morning.They did, and now I am wide awake. So, I made some coffee and a bowl of oatmeal and I thought I'd catch you up on the silly shit that makes up my Life. I call it my Sunday MopUp, and it goes like this:
Getting Into Hot Water
I own a townhouse that was built in 1969. Much of the place still has the original equipment from back then. This includes my electric hot water heater. Now, that is an unusually long ass life for a water heater, and I have been aware that it is on its last legs for several years now. I've procrastinated about getting a new one forever, it seems.
A few years ago, The X and I noticed a serious decrease in the hot water pressure in the upstairs shower. Being the mechanically inept homos that we were, we called a plumber and a guy came out, surveyed the situation, and informed us that the water heater was so old that it was passing chunks of calcification through the hot water line, and these chunks were causing blockages at the diverter in the shower. We just nodded like we knew what the fuck he was talking about while fantasizing about whether the guy was going to bend over at some point to reveal his hairy crack. Hey, you spend that kinda money on a service call, you expect a little show.
He went out to the water main, somewhere behind our unit, shut down the water, disassembled the shower, showed us a couple of chunks of funk within the diverter, put the whole thing back together, and charged me about a hundred bucks without ever revealing any glimpse of ass. Oh, well. When we cranked on the water in the bathroom, we were back in business. Hotness returned.
The lesson was: a new water heater needed to be bought and installed, for this would surely happen again.
That was about six years ago, I guess. Did I do anything about replacing the heater? Umm...are you serious? Don't you know me well enough by now to know better than to wonder such things?
It's early. I am up to check to make sure the football games we captured and published to the VOD channels last night made it to air this morning.They did, and now I am wide awake. So, I made some coffee and a bowl of oatmeal and I thought I'd catch you up on the silly shit that makes up my Life. I call it my Sunday MopUp, and it goes like this:
Getting Into Hot Water
I own a townhouse that was built in 1969. Much of the place still has the original equipment from back then. This includes my electric hot water heater. Now, that is an unusually long ass life for a water heater, and I have been aware that it is on its last legs for several years now. I've procrastinated about getting a new one forever, it seems.
A few years ago, The X and I noticed a serious decrease in the hot water pressure in the upstairs shower. Being the mechanically inept homos that we were, we called a plumber and a guy came out, surveyed the situation, and informed us that the water heater was so old that it was passing chunks of calcification through the hot water line, and these chunks were causing blockages at the diverter in the shower. We just nodded like we knew what the fuck he was talking about while fantasizing about whether the guy was going to bend over at some point to reveal his hairy crack. Hey, you spend that kinda money on a service call, you expect a little show.
He went out to the water main, somewhere behind our unit, shut down the water, disassembled the shower, showed us a couple of chunks of funk within the diverter, put the whole thing back together, and charged me about a hundred bucks without ever revealing any glimpse of ass. Oh, well. When we cranked on the water in the bathroom, we were back in business. Hotness returned.
The lesson was: a new water heater needed to be bought and installed, for this would surely happen again.
That was about six years ago, I guess. Did I do anything about replacing the heater? Umm...are you serious? Don't you know me well enough by now to know better than to wonder such things?
So, last week I crawl into the shower to start my day, and the hot water pressure is limp and flaccid again. Oh, great. I'm standing naked under my rain shower head, with lukewarm dribbles and drools (from the SHOWER, not me!) streaming down my chest and I realize what is going on. I curse myself for not dealing with this since the last time, and switch the diverter to Cold and take a cold shower, since the water pressure with the cold line is absolutely fine. I dance like an epileptic marionette while hosing down, lathering up, rinsing off, and shampooing.
Now, I'm days away from my next paycheck, so I think about what action to take here. Call a plumber again to clean out the line, try to clean the line out myself, or bite the bullet and finally buy the water heater that I KNOW I need? Dropping a hundred bucks on a plumber (with or without a furry butt) seemed like a waste, I CERTAINLY don't have the skills to fix this myself, and I have known all along that I needed replace the ancient contraption. I decide to wait until payday and then buy a new one.
I take cold morning showers for about a week. The friggin' HORROR! The only thing that saved me was my daily trip to the gym, where each workout was followed up with a HOT, LUXURIOUS shower in the locker room. Thank God for those. It really helped motivate me to go to the gym during that time period.
So, Friday at work, I look at Home Depot's website and find an electric water heater for $388.00 and a mention of installation services. Not a word about the cost of such installation. So, I call the 800 number and talk to a Little Thing who walks me through the process. Turns out, I am promised a replacement heater, INSTALLED ON A SATURDAY, for $663.00. Jesus, that is some serious cabbage in my world, but I cannot stand the thought of another morning of my penis retracting into my abdomen as I stand under a cold shower yet again. So, I agree to the deal, give her my credit card information, and am told that I should expect a phone call from the Install Dude by 10:30AM the next morning.
Saturday morning it is pushing 11AM and there has been no phone call. I have the phone number of the company that is to do the work, and all I get is a voice message stating that no one is there to answer the phone, please leave a message and blah-blah blah. I left a message, all right. I stated that I was promised a new water heater TODAY and I expect a call back asap. I then call Home Depot and another Little Thing puts me on hold while she calls the installation people. She comes back on the line to inform me that the company contracted out to do such things is closed on the weekend, and I will have to wait until Monday to get the water heater.
[Cue me going ballistic]
Chickiepoo apologizes and offers me a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card for my inconvenience. I state, emphatically, that 50 bucks isn't gonna cut it. I'm having visions of my shrivelled genitals lodged somewhere in my chest for two more days. I bark that I need to cancel the order, because I have to find another solution to my issue immediately.
She puts me on hold and comes back, stating that her supervisor has agreed to trim 10% off the package price, along with that fifty dollar gift card, if I can just hang on until Monday. The adjustment puts the installed tank to under $600 dollars now. I breathe deeply, tell myself that I can shower at the gym the rest of the weekend, and agree to the deal. She takes my credit card info from me again, credits me for 10% of the price, and we hang up. I immediately begin packing up for the gym.
Within fifteen minutes I get another phone call. This time it's from the contracted installation company. Installer Dude is calling to tell me that he can be at my place in an hour. I tell him that the store told me that I couldn't get the job done until Monday. He laughed and said that Home Depot has their head up their ass. I told him to come on over, and I'm giddy now that a hot shower in my house today is close to becoming a reality.
By the way, did I call Home Depot back and inform them that I was getting the work done on that day after all? Did I offer them their 10% back? C'mon now...
His name was Will, and he was a big, burly, hairy-assed (I'd bet) guy who had a little sidekick named Brandon in tow. He took one look at the old tank and pulled out his clipboard.
"We have some problems", he stated.
Seems the City of Austin requires a permit to do such work. A permit which, by law, he must follow in order to keep his company out of trouble. He showed me the permit. We went item-by-item through it. See, my old heater was installed so long ago, it wasn't up to code in a shitload of ways. Here were the additional steps, and costs, needed in order for jimmycity to have hot water once again:
1. Installation of time clock for water heater: $375.00
2. Water heater drain pan installed to Code: $124.00
3. Temperature and pressure relief valves: $65.00
4. Vacuum breaker installed on bibb hoses: $50.00
5 Smoke Alarm installed, tested, working: $45.00
$659.00 Total
Adding that figure to the cost of purchase and installation of the new tank took my cost to nearly $1250.00
[Cue me beginning to froth at the mouth as my blood pressure spikes]
Look, this wasn't Hairy-Assed-I-Bet Will's fault. This was a requirement of the City. The reason, by the way, that the time clock was so expensive, was that an electrician would need to come out and wire an electrical outlet, cuz, like, I didn't have one there.
When I was able to breathe again, I explained that I didn't have the budget to make this happen. He nodded and assured me that he would feel the same way. He suggested I find an independent person, like a buddy or something, to help me do it myself. Yeah, right.
The fact is, I could try to talk my video tech at work into taking this on as a project. I could pay him cash for his effort. He knows electric and plumbing. Hell, he BUILT his own house 20 years ago. I could work alongside him, we could hit the Plumbing Supply Store (where Hairy-Assed-I-Bet Will said I could probably find a water heater for $250.00) and probably get the whole thing up to code for HALF of what this guy wanted to charge me
I sent him on his way, called Home Depot and canceled the installation scheduled for Monday (heh!)and got the final Little Thing to credit the cost of everything back to my credit card.
I was back at Square One. Still with no hot water in the shower. Okay. Now, I needed to find a plumber on a Saturday to cut the water off and unclog my shower lines, or I would have to try to fix it myself.
What the fuck? I decided I would try to unclog the line myself. You can do this, Jim!
I found the water main. I had never seen it before. It was under a manhole cover back behind the townhouse unit, along a fence line, on a street between two tiny trees and some bushes. Once I got the cover off (no small feat in and of itself), I used a BigAss wrench to torque the rusted valve to the "Off" position. I was bent over, supporting myself again one of the small trees. I think I killed that fucker by the time I was done. I KNOW I wrenched my back in the process.
Once the water was off, I went upstairs into the bathroom and began taking the shower apart. At least fifteen pieces of shit to remove and account for, and try to remember the position they were in as well as the order in which they were removed, so I could put the bitch back together when I was done. I was swearing like a sailor. More cuss words than I use here. No kidding! Hard to believe, I know...
When I pulled the diverter out, a chuck of calcified crud fell out of the back of it. That was the problem! I checked for more stuff, found some, cleaned it out, and began the process of putting the shower back together.
What took me 10 minutes to take apart took nearly an hour to put back together. Rubik's Motherfucking Cube. No lie.
But, when I was done, I went back to the water main, grunted like a gorilla while trying to get the rusty valve open again, closed up the manhole cover (say it with me..."manhole"...yeah, that's right!), and trooped back up to the bathroom and turned on the water.
Sweet, sweet hot water poured down upon me with full pressure. Testosterone coursed through my veins. I raised my arms in Victory, sniffed my sweat-soaked armpits and rejoiced in my Manliness and Butchness. Jesus, I really needed a shower! But now, I could take one.
And, take one I did.
Some Stuff Some Friends Sent:
One Small Leap
It's July 21st, 1969, and Neil Armstrong has just taken a giant leap for mankind. In Muskogee, Oklahoma, one man is turning back the evolutionary clock.
iPodBear
I have a friend Up North who is quite good at graphic design. He sent me the following:
And, finally, since Halloween approacheth, he sent me the a really cool graphic for a Halloween card he put out this year. I meant to save it for this week and share it with you all, but managed to forget to stash the pic, and it has fallen out of my email. Damn it!
I've stated before that I hate Halloween. In MY mind, it's a kid's holiday that adults use as an excuse to get shitfaced, drive drunk, and puke around town. But those are just MY prejudices. If you love Halloween, I hope you have fun. In any case, have a safe holiday!
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Sunday MopUp 10/19/08
It's the buttcrack of dawn and there is a chill to the air. I had to get up early to check the cable system and see if a high school football game correctly published to a VOD channel and, so, I'm grumpy. The coffee will help shortly. But, welcome to what I call my "Sunday Mop Up", where God and I review the past week here in jimmycity and, together, we try to figure out who is to blame for what. I rarely point an accusing finger.
Jury Duty
I got there by 8:30AM, and sat around until nearly 9:15. Made me furious. I had to drive clear to the other end of town in morning rush hour traffic to be there on time. How do people contend with this shit on a daily basis?
There were 17 of us, and all they needed was 6 jurors. We were impaneled and interviewed for those slots. I noticed that people who volunteered information about themselves got paid a lot of attention. I figured this attention meant that they were going to be noticed and chosen as jurors. So, I kept my mouth shut. No one asked me anything directly, and I kept all opinions to myself. The case going to trial was for a black guy who was clocked going 81mph in a 65 mph zone. He was defending himself, so he was allowed to interview prospective jurors as well. One of his questions to us was "Does anyone know what 'DWB' means?" We must have looked dumbstruck, because he told us. 'DWB' meant "Driving While Black". In other words, this guy was accusing the police of profiling him because of his race.
I didn't want ANYTHING to do with THIS trial! So, I kept quiet.
After ten minutes of questions from both the prosecutor and the defendant, we were asked to leave the courtroom while jurors were determined. It was 10AM, and I figured I would be out of there within 30 minutes. When we were called back, they read the names of the jurors. They called my name. I was selected. Fuck!
I was asked to take a seat in the juror's box, along with five others. Everyone else was excused, and the six of us were given our instructions. We were to listen to the case, go back to a little room and determine who the Foreman was going to be among us, and then had to come to a UNANIMOUS decision about the case and, if guilty, determine the fine the defendant was to pay.
Before we heard the chronology of what happened, we were schooled on how a Doppler II radar unit works. The thing gets checked and tuned and tested daily by the Officer. It had been tested that very day, and was working properly. Turns out, you use tuning forks to calibrate radar guns. Huh! Who knew?
The six of us listened to the hoo-ha. 8PM on May 31st, an Officer in an unmarked patrol car was driving 65 in the right hand lane of a long stretch of highway. Suddenly, a BMW SUV blows past him in the center lane. The Officer hits a switch and turns on his radar, which clocks the SUV at 81mph. The Officer turns his lights on, pursues and pulls over the car. The driver was not argumentative or disagreeable and signs the ticket.
Now, the ticket is brought into evidence. The Officer had mistakenly marked the driver as being Asian, then crossed through that and marked African. Also brought into evidence is the report. The Officer states in it that he was driving and saw the suspect drive past him, speeding. The black guy claimed that if the Officer really HAD seen him, he would have known that he was black, not Asian. Clearly, argued the defendant, the Officer had clocked someone else.
The Officer admits that he made a mistake in checking "Asian", but corrected it on the spot. The Officer says that when, in his report, he states he saw the suspect speed past, he meant he saw the CAR speed past, not the individual in the car. The Officer explains that at no point did he ever take his eyes off the speeding vehicle, so there was no way he had used the radar on another vehicle. - It didn't help matters that, as the prosecution was laying out the case for us, the lawyer for The State referred to the car as being a "black BMW". For that matter, the Officer referred to it as a "black BMW" as well. The defendant points out that his SUV is, in fact, GRAY!
[gasp!] [insert an eyeroll from me here]
The prosecution apologizes and reminds us all that the TICKET clearly states that the color of the car in question was GRAY, it was a slip of the tongue and should not be a problem for the jury. After all, these lawyers see case after case, day after day. Is it any wonder that they can keep any of these details straight?
The defendant seemed pretty certain that these details bring the whole "beyond a reasonable doubt" rule into play. How could we, as a jury, be sure that the speeding car in question was his, when the Officer got his ethnicity wrong, and now The State and the Officer can't seem to get the color of his car correct?
We are now sent into a back room to deliberate. Our first task is to pick a Foreman. When seated around a table, the eyes turn to me, and the black guy suggests me as the Foreman. "Look," I explain, "thanks, but I would like to make another suggestion. This guy thinks he is being picked on because he is black. He mentioned that a cop who sees a black man in a BMW is going to get a second look, anyways. It will send a message to this guy that we, as a jury, felt unanimously that this guy is guilty if it is presented by another black man." A very timid Oriental woman jumped in and exclaimed "I aglee!"
It was decided. The black juror was very startled that we wanted him to be the Foreman, but seemed pleased.
The case was an easy decision. The defendant had even gone so far as to speculate that the Officer had perhaps actually clocked an Asian in a black BMW SUV, not the the black guy in question. I pointed out that not once had the defendant said that he had not been speeding, but rather, was trying to point out errors in the paperwork. He never denied that he passed the unmarked patrol car. He had mentioned being black and owning a BMW and being picked on as a way of playing the race card. It was ridiculous. The Officer who wrote the ticket was Hispanic, by the way.
We had to figure out what his fine was to be. We had a range of $1 - $200 to assess. I suggested that we find out how much the ticket would have cost. We sent a note to the bench, and found out that the ticket was for $160, and that, if found guilty, the guy would owe court costs of $105. We assessed him a fine of the $160, then. With court costs, he would have to pay 265 bucks. Done and done.
We filed back into the courtroom and the Foreman delivered our decision on a piece of paper to the judge, who read aloud what we had decided. The defendant shook his head like he had been ripped off. I shook my head and wanted to tell him that he had wasted all of our time with this flimsy dispute. We were dismissed right at noon, and I felt I had participated in my "civic duty" and was relieved to find out that, having gone through this, I wouldn't be hit up for jury duty again for a full year.
And that, kids, was how I wasted my Thursday morning.
jimmycity makes a porno
Using my digital camera, I shot a couple of minutes of a movie of me being a bit of an exhibitionist. Meat Puppet Theatre, if you will. I emailed it to a few select friends. I am now regretting that I did this am sure that at some point it will surface on the internet and my mother or father will see it and have a heart attack.
This has been my moment of TMI for the week. Sorry.
How About A Music Video?!?
...since I mentioned video, here's a clip of a song by a band that has been around for several years to whom I have just been introduced. I like it when the animals start dancing.
And here's another. Music to take drugs to, a friend has said. I disagree. I'm sober as a judge and enjoy it.
Finally, Let's Check In On "Overheard In New York"
Well I've Been Trying to Cut Back on MSG
It's the buttcrack of dawn and there is a chill to the air. I had to get up early to check the cable system and see if a high school football game correctly published to a VOD channel and, so, I'm grumpy. The coffee will help shortly. But, welcome to what I call my "Sunday Mop Up", where God and I review the past week here in jimmycity and, together, we try to figure out who is to blame for what. I rarely point an accusing finger.
Jury Duty
I got there by 8:30AM, and sat around until nearly 9:15. Made me furious. I had to drive clear to the other end of town in morning rush hour traffic to be there on time. How do people contend with this shit on a daily basis?
There were 17 of us, and all they needed was 6 jurors. We were impaneled and interviewed for those slots. I noticed that people who volunteered information about themselves got paid a lot of attention. I figured this attention meant that they were going to be noticed and chosen as jurors. So, I kept my mouth shut. No one asked me anything directly, and I kept all opinions to myself. The case going to trial was for a black guy who was clocked going 81mph in a 65 mph zone. He was defending himself, so he was allowed to interview prospective jurors as well. One of his questions to us was "Does anyone know what 'DWB' means?" We must have looked dumbstruck, because he told us. 'DWB' meant "Driving While Black". In other words, this guy was accusing the police of profiling him because of his race.
I didn't want ANYTHING to do with THIS trial! So, I kept quiet.
After ten minutes of questions from both the prosecutor and the defendant, we were asked to leave the courtroom while jurors were determined. It was 10AM, and I figured I would be out of there within 30 minutes. When we were called back, they read the names of the jurors. They called my name. I was selected. Fuck!
I was asked to take a seat in the juror's box, along with five others. Everyone else was excused, and the six of us were given our instructions. We were to listen to the case, go back to a little room and determine who the Foreman was going to be among us, and then had to come to a UNANIMOUS decision about the case and, if guilty, determine the fine the defendant was to pay.
Before we heard the chronology of what happened, we were schooled on how a Doppler II radar unit works. The thing gets checked and tuned and tested daily by the Officer. It had been tested that very day, and was working properly. Turns out, you use tuning forks to calibrate radar guns. Huh! Who knew?
The six of us listened to the hoo-ha. 8PM on May 31st, an Officer in an unmarked patrol car was driving 65 in the right hand lane of a long stretch of highway. Suddenly, a BMW SUV blows past him in the center lane. The Officer hits a switch and turns on his radar, which clocks the SUV at 81mph. The Officer turns his lights on, pursues and pulls over the car. The driver was not argumentative or disagreeable and signs the ticket.
Now, the ticket is brought into evidence. The Officer had mistakenly marked the driver as being Asian, then crossed through that and marked African. Also brought into evidence is the report. The Officer states in it that he was driving and saw the suspect drive past him, speeding. The black guy claimed that if the Officer really HAD seen him, he would have known that he was black, not Asian. Clearly, argued the defendant, the Officer had clocked someone else.
The Officer admits that he made a mistake in checking "Asian", but corrected it on the spot. The Officer says that when, in his report, he states he saw the suspect speed past, he meant he saw the CAR speed past, not the individual in the car. The Officer explains that at no point did he ever take his eyes off the speeding vehicle, so there was no way he had used the radar on another vehicle. - It didn't help matters that, as the prosecution was laying out the case for us, the lawyer for The State referred to the car as being a "black BMW". For that matter, the Officer referred to it as a "black BMW" as well. The defendant points out that his SUV is, in fact, GRAY!
[gasp!] [insert an eyeroll from me here]
The prosecution apologizes and reminds us all that the TICKET clearly states that the color of the car in question was GRAY, it was a slip of the tongue and should not be a problem for the jury. After all, these lawyers see case after case, day after day. Is it any wonder that they can keep any of these details straight?
The defendant seemed pretty certain that these details bring the whole "beyond a reasonable doubt" rule into play. How could we, as a jury, be sure that the speeding car in question was his, when the Officer got his ethnicity wrong, and now The State and the Officer can't seem to get the color of his car correct?
We are now sent into a back room to deliberate. Our first task is to pick a Foreman. When seated around a table, the eyes turn to me, and the black guy suggests me as the Foreman. "Look," I explain, "thanks, but I would like to make another suggestion. This guy thinks he is being picked on because he is black. He mentioned that a cop who sees a black man in a BMW is going to get a second look, anyways. It will send a message to this guy that we, as a jury, felt unanimously that this guy is guilty if it is presented by another black man." A very timid Oriental woman jumped in and exclaimed "I aglee!"
It was decided. The black juror was very startled that we wanted him to be the Foreman, but seemed pleased.
The case was an easy decision. The defendant had even gone so far as to speculate that the Officer had perhaps actually clocked an Asian in a black BMW SUV, not the the black guy in question. I pointed out that not once had the defendant said that he had not been speeding, but rather, was trying to point out errors in the paperwork. He never denied that he passed the unmarked patrol car. He had mentioned being black and owning a BMW and being picked on as a way of playing the race card. It was ridiculous. The Officer who wrote the ticket was Hispanic, by the way.
We had to figure out what his fine was to be. We had a range of $1 - $200 to assess. I suggested that we find out how much the ticket would have cost. We sent a note to the bench, and found out that the ticket was for $160, and that, if found guilty, the guy would owe court costs of $105. We assessed him a fine of the $160, then. With court costs, he would have to pay 265 bucks. Done and done.
We filed back into the courtroom and the Foreman delivered our decision on a piece of paper to the judge, who read aloud what we had decided. The defendant shook his head like he had been ripped off. I shook my head and wanted to tell him that he had wasted all of our time with this flimsy dispute. We were dismissed right at noon, and I felt I had participated in my "civic duty" and was relieved to find out that, having gone through this, I wouldn't be hit up for jury duty again for a full year.
And that, kids, was how I wasted my Thursday morning.
jimmycity makes a porno
Using my digital camera, I shot a couple of minutes of a movie of me being a bit of an exhibitionist. Meat Puppet Theatre, if you will. I emailed it to a few select friends. I am now regretting that I did this am sure that at some point it will surface on the internet and my mother or father will see it and have a heart attack.
This has been my moment of TMI for the week. Sorry.
How About A Music Video?!?
...since I mentioned video, here's a clip of a song by a band that has been around for several years to whom I have just been introduced. I like it when the animals start dancing.
And here's another. Music to take drugs to, a friend has said. I disagree. I'm sober as a judge and enjoy it.
Finally, Let's Check In On "Overheard In New York"
Well I've Been Trying to Cut Back on MSG
Woman to younger boyfriend: Honey, that Chinese food that you brought over is still in my fridge. I was going to throw it out.
Younger boyfriend: No, I'll eat it.
Woman: You don't think it's gone bad?
Boyfriend: It's only two days old. You're 31, and you haven't gone bad yet.
Woman: That makes no sense, and in any event, you haven't eaten me in a while either.
--Upper East Side
via Overheard in New York, Oct 18, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Sunday Mop Up 10/12/08
The windows to my townhouse are flung wide open, there is a lovely autumn breeze outside, and I have laundry working and dishes a-cleaning and most random bio-hazard safely corralled.
Welcome to my Sunday Mop Up of stuff that has happened in my little world lately!
Jim-Rat
Tuesdays and Thursdays I meet with my trainer and we see how pathetically weak I actually am. It's really surprising. That I can keep my head upright on my shoulders on a day-to-day basis is suddenly amazing, because it has become MORE than apparent to both of us that there is nothing beneath my layers of fat but rubber bands and, perhaps, some kinda paper-mache (sp?) stuff. Sure as shit isn't muscle.
He's a sweet kid, Daniel. He's twenty-three. I have underwear older than he is. He calls me the day after a workout to see if I am okay. Wanna meet him? Okay, I know you do...
The windows to my townhouse are flung wide open, there is a lovely autumn breeze outside, and I have laundry working and dishes a-cleaning and most random bio-hazard safely corralled.
Welcome to my Sunday Mop Up of stuff that has happened in my little world lately!
Jim-Rat
Tuesdays and Thursdays I meet with my trainer and we see how pathetically weak I actually am. It's really surprising. That I can keep my head upright on my shoulders on a day-to-day basis is suddenly amazing, because it has become MORE than apparent to both of us that there is nothing beneath my layers of fat but rubber bands and, perhaps, some kinda paper-mache (sp?) stuff. Sure as shit isn't muscle.
He's a sweet kid, Daniel. He's twenty-three. I have underwear older than he is. He calls me the day after a workout to see if I am okay. Wanna meet him? Okay, I know you do...
My arms are gonna look like that, one day. I'll be one of those guys that flexes his bicep and then kisses it gingerly. You'll hate me, but I won't care. Cuz I'll think I'm hot.
I told Daniel that I wanted to take his picture, so I could post it on my blog and he became very excited about it. I think he thinks more people than three (on a good week) read this, or something.
Salads
I eat them almost daily now. Big bowls of the stuff. Do you eat salad? You should, you know. All that roughage makes for a very productive poop. I'm just sayin'. I'm tryin' to help, is all.
Work
is killing me. My boss is taking the entire week off this week, and it means that my stress level will be out of SIGHT! If I had high blood pressure, I would be stroking out right about now. No kidding. My job blows at the present time.
Keeping Austin Weird
So, I was on the south side of town last weekend, and I had to check in at a store that is on a stretch of road that has become VERY trendy and hip and popular with the cool kids. All sorts of shops and restaurants and bars have popped up all up and down it, making traffic really miserable in the area. Well, after battling for a parking space, I jumped out of my truck and crossed the street to the other side, at the corner where good, law-abiding citizens cross the street. You know? I'm the kind of idiot that will try to dart out across a street anywhere I please, and I took the time to cross where pedestrians are supposed to cross: at the corner and with the light.
Well, as I am standing there, waiting to get permission to walk where I'd like to walk, I notice that there is a person in a bear suit on the other side of the street, among the other people milling about. A cute, cuddly Care-Bears kinda suit, all white and fluffy. It has some kind of design of hearts or something all over the belly, but this was a full-blown costume. Had a big-ass head, like a mascot for a sports team, or something from Disney World. Big eyes and a smile. Creepy.
"Huh. Dork in a bear suit," I said to myself. The bear was standing outside a pizza place. Why would a pizza parlor put a person dressed as a bear outside? I shrugged, the light turned green for those of us waiting to cross, and so we did.
As I got closer to the dude (I'm assuming it was a man inside, because of the person's height. From his body proportions, he was easily six feet tall, but the ginormous head made him tower to well over seven feet in height), I noticed that he wasn't keeping to the pizza place area, he was wandering down the street, now in my direction, waving and dancing. Everyone was pretty much ignoring him.
Closer still, the guy stopped and focused on me. As I was passing him, he reached out and pointed at me.
"Bear!" he exclaimed, tapping me on my chest. His voice was in this falsetto that really pumped up the creep factor. I looked down and realized I was wearing one of my t-shirts that, indeed, says "Bear" on it. Oh great.
"Yes, I am!" I replied, in sarcastic exhuberance.
He then pointed to himself with both his furry paws, touching himself on the hearts of his belly.
"Bear!" he explained with a single word and that same infantile tone. Then, he extended his arms, like he wanted a hug.
"Yes, you are!" I gushed and rolled my eyes and pushed past him. As I passed, I felt a paw reach out and rub my shoulder, the mitt sliding down my back as I hauled ass. I didn't look back.
Luckily, the store I was headed for was just of the other side of him, and I ducked quickly inside, wondering what the fuck that guy's purpose was out there. If someone had hired him to promote their business, I don't think they were getting their money's worth.
When I came back out, he was gone. No sign of him. I was worried about another confrontation, but could relax. I hiked back to the street corner, crossed again with the light, and walked down to my truck.
As I was leaving the area, a full four blocks down the strip, I passed him again. He was just kinda dancing down the street. He was getting to the point where the business district ended, and the residential area began. Dude wasn't on the clock.
I believe I had just met my first "Furry". And I think he cruised me.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Something New From the Goodie Bag!
I've said it before, I'll say it again: funny smart people turn me on. Take Kirby, for example. This guy absolutely appeals to me and I know it's because he's a clever dick. He's probably completely into women, and that's okay. He's one of my Internet Crushes, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
I've said it before, I'll say it again: funny smart people turn me on. Take Kirby, for example. This guy absolutely appeals to me and I know it's because he's a clever dick. He's probably completely into women, and that's okay. He's one of my Internet Crushes, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
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