the one where I’m a john

July 16, 2013

So I’ve been busy. I have been writing and enjoyed good news. I probably should have shared it here earlier. I mean what is the point of having this blog if you don’t share good news when it comes?

The good news?

A play I wrote was selected for a 10 minute play festival.

The better news?

The wifebot is the director.

The bad news?

Well unless you happened to see it over the previous three weeks then you won’t be seeing it. That’s right; it’s come and gone before I ever said anything about it here. I’ve made a list of Cleveland themed writing goals, and this production helped me check one off of the list. The play was part of the 10×10 festival held in The River Street Theatre through Chagrin Valley Little Theatre. If you ever get a chance, check it out because they’re an awesome bunch.

I suppose at this point it’ll be best to mention what would probably be the real bad news. The festival and my play got totally reamed by a reviewer. This of course comes with the territory as a writer. I can easily shrug it off—not that I was hoping for a bad review—but I do deal with a ton of rejection. The reviewer called my play a “tedious affair.”

Ouch.

(note: as I started to write this post in my head but didn’t write till now I’ve forgotten some bit about crying myself to sleep. It was funny I assure you.)

Or rather he thought John Remick’s play was a tedious affair. I feel bad for this John guy. That’s right; he got my name wrong in the review. Now at first I laughed this off as probably a good thing, but the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me.

I mean if you’re going to call someone’s hard work tedious at least get their name right.

Right?

Which is what I posted and he responded “yes, that is preferred.”

Wow.

A great time was had. I enjoyed the production. I wish I had more of a chance to work with the wifebot but that will come. The actors were awesome, and everyone had a good time. That is all that matters. Six of my coworkers even made it to see the show.

In the end, I was thrilled to see my play on stage and lucky enough to have help staying grounded by the terrible review.

 

Or at least John Remick was.


The shaving

March 22, 2011

So I shaved this morning. I shaved yesterday morning too. I even did this (both times) before having coffee. It must have been one of those rare occasions when I leave the apartment these days?

(Nope.)

I leave the apartment most days to take one of my walks (especially when it isn’t too cold) but I don’t need to shave just to be out walking.

Oh you must have been meeting a friend?

(Wrong.)

Well technically that is wrong. Tonight I will be heading over to the Lake Erie Monsters game with the lovely Rizza and her dude. So technically I more than likely would have shaven today. That is besides the point.

Is it?

(Yes! Why must you torment me with questions all the time?)

We’ll focus more on yesterday then. Happy now? I wasn’t going anywhere really. No job interviews, no lunches or anything. There was a chance I would be going grocery shopping with the wife but like I care if Giant Eagle or Aldi’s people see me unshaven. Do you get that I hate shaving and won’t a great majority of the time? If I go too many days (and yes it happens a lot) I become real Wolfman like. I can get very hairy and very fast.

Photobucket

I really hate shaving. It takes way too much effort and time. So if there is a reason to skip it. I usually shave for anything involving friends (you’re welcome) but sometimes…

For instance this past Saturday we attended a party at Lindsay’s house. Now this would usually mean I was going to shave. The problem was the night before I went to bed at about 4am. I slept till about noon and then ran out to watch some March Madness. Soon it was late in the afternoon/early evening and I was dozing off on the couch. Now the wife being a great wife let me sleep until pretty much time to go. I got up and got ready with no time to shave. So there I was everyone pretty unshaven—

(No I was unshaven the others were less hairy.)
(You all never rest do you?)

As Alicia asked about Lauren’s wedding I joked that on the day I’d show up and *maybe* shave.

(I always shave for weddings.)
(There is a point to this post.)
(I promise.)
(Maybe.)

Despite the lack of doing anything (on Monday) I still shaved. Why? Because of this:

The wifebot and I were driving home Sunday. I don’t know how the subject turned to shaving but it did.

Me: Why shave? What reason do I have to shave?
Wifebot: Me!

And then you know light bulbs turned on and correct answer bells went off. Another thing that went off is something only I seem to have. You know the Star Trek red alert thing? Well that goes off when I’m going to start to feel bad about something, or regret something. I once said to Kat (wifebot) that I probably regretted close to 85% of things I’ve ever said or done in my life.

I don’t mean huge decisions (though some are in there I suppose.) when I say that about regret. Even the tiniest most throw away things fall into the Jimi will soon regret category. This is for another blog post though.

So that went off because I realized something. All in all I’m a pretty good husband—like with anything we can all be better—but I’m not too shabby. I remember what she likes and wants. I know all our special dates. I watch a lot of sports but I’m not unwilling to pass on them to do things. I love her. I show her love.
Hugs are never lacking.

Notes, texts random weird gifts and things.

Check, check and check.

She knows I love her. I can be better at being a husband. I know this. I can be a better writer, person etc… so of course I could always stand to be a better husband. All that being said I realized that doing all the nice things you can do to show those you care things can still slip past. It didn’t dawn on me to shave for her.
Why wouldn’t she like that?

(Duh.)

I mean it is a simple thing. Of course she loves me for who I am, but that doesn’t mean she needs me to be Wolfman all the damn time. It is the little things that make everything else shine out more. It goes to show you no matter how hard you try there is always the danger of falling into the taking things for granted rut.

This post really shouldn’t see the light of the day. For numerous reasons:

1-Not very fun.
2-Not very interesting.
3-That whole admitting I regret so much. (I’ll probably regret that.)
4-It sort of just rambled and fell apart.

I suppose it deserves to live if anything just for that crude paint shop hair comparison.

Whatever go hug someone you love.


Excuse me maam: Virginia Style

November 9, 2010

Photobucket

Yep. It already happened again. This time it took place in the lovely mountains of Virginia. The Three Shillelaghs were up there on our traditional trek. The last time we were up there a brewery was being built. This year it had been up and running for a while.

Everywhere I go I like to try a local beer. So we immediately made plans to head up to The Devil’s Backbone Brewery and Restaurant. After a beautiful and relaxing morning we headed out. We stopped at an awesome place named Graves where I chased down that elusive Choco Taco! Yeah!

Photobucket

We headed up the mountain—Blue Ridge Parkway. This is also a tradition. We do enjoy our traditions, you may have noticed. Anyhoo we get up there and park. There be some optimal picture taking area. The area is beautiful and pics to come—maybe.

Oh come now (That’s what she said!) stop your whining this is another kind of post.

The day was nice. The sky bright blue and had a few puffy white cotton balls floating around in it. It wasn’t too chilly down below (TWSS!) but up on the mountain it was nippy. We enjoyed the view and snapped pictures before heading back down

Devils Backbone had a pretty full parking lot. The restaurant was no different. The sun was slowly creeping down as was the temp. There was an option given to us. Wait for who knows how long to sit inside or have dinner on the patio. It was a nice patio and a nice view too.

It was cold though. The patio did have heat. It consisted of a very lovely fireplace, two hanging heaters and then two moveable heaters. They also offered blankets. The wifey enjoyed the fireplace because she was right next to it. I was to the side/behind of it and Pelvic Joann was across the table of it. The two hanging heaters only helped the tables they were above. Those were the prime seats. The moveable heaters were not on.

In their fairness we didn’t ask about why. Eventually (as we neared the end of dinner) one was turned on and brought over to us. I sat with my hoodie on and up. The ladies took advantage of the blankets.
They were the cause of the post. I mean the blankets not the ladies. Dinner consisted of delicious meatloaf (kat), coffee braised steak (me) and the bone smoker platter (hahaha) for Pelvy. They had bread pudding for dessert.

During the meal some woman sat at the prime table in front of the fireplace AND under a heater. They eventually left and were replaced by some raucous men probably in their 50’s. I made eye contact (my face and beard clearly showing) several times. They were fans of really bad jokes and ribbing one another with even worse jokes.

As we left the ladies left the blankets on their chair. One dude tried to stop them I think. I vaguely remember hearing “hey” as I made it to their table. My front was facing them before turning my back to scoot between their table and the fireplace. My hoodie still up and my hair tucked into it. I get this tug on my arm.

“Miss. I think you ladies left some…oh never mind.”

I turned to face him at this point. Now either he noticed the blankets weren’t ours or that I had a beard and was clearly not a lady. I kept going and he turned back to his table of mid life crisesers.


Excuse me maam: Game time

November 1, 2010

First go check out the latest Monday’s Maniac over at The B Movie Brigade.

Photobucket

Yep. I get called “miss”, “maam” or “her/she” so often that I’ve turned it into a reoccurring segment here. Hooray for easy peasy posts to bore you with. Because if jimi is one thing she’s lazy

Damn. I mean he. Crap. Moving on.

The Cheap Seats is littered with posts about being called a girl. Sift through em if you like.
No? Yeah I feel ya, I was too lazy to get em for you too. Oh well. Hooray lazy. What was the point of this again? I mean other than me wanting to make a stick figure have my head on it.

(Horribly done by the way) Oh there he goes with the parenthesis again. What are those suppose to be an aside or something?

Notice the prominent beard?

Don’t worry nobody else does either. The Rizza, the pole smoker and yours truly had just walked into the crowded lobby area of the Q. She (The Rizza) went off to the “you have a purse so need to be checked out line. We being men went to the quick lanes.

A side note: The Q (Quicken Loans Arena—where the Cavs, Monsters and Gladiators play) and its staff appear to enjoy holding me up. Almost every single time (or actually whenever I attend with the Rizza) they’ve found another reason to slow me down. The pens in my pocket, my belt buckle, a notebook and etc etc.

This night was no different. In terms of holding us up I mean. I walked self assuredly (but with a manly brisk walk!) to the ticket scanner.

“Good evening my dear.” Ticket in one hand pointed at the scanner and keys in my other hand for the security to see as I pass through the detector. I left all pens and belt buckles at home. Success!

Scan.
Blrrrrrp.
Scan.
Blrrrp.
“Hmm.” She pulls the ticket into her hand. Scan.
Blrrrrp.
Scan some more.

“I knew I should have brought my personal ticket scanner.” Flash my hairy smile. Her face does not brighten however. “Damnit Jimi did you flash the grimace again instead of the smile?” I thought as she pointed over to the side.

“I’m going to need you to stand off to the side over there sir.” And then she was already on to the next customer.

Soon a squirrely looking guy walked over to her and she talked to him and pointed over at me. “Could you see him please sir.”

“For you anything.” I walked over. He smiled. I smiled (perhaps grimaced?) and the dance began. He took the ticket. He used his big boss ticket scanning scanner and of course our old buddy

Blrrrrp.

Yeah, so he looked at the ticket some more. He scanned it again. Nothing but blrrrp. He looked up into my face and presumably my hypnotizing dark brown eyes. He chuckled.

“HMMM.” A stronger version of their go to answer. He read the ticket and then ripped the bottom part of and handed it back to me.

“Well okay that was fun.”

He looked up at me from the scanner and then tapped “Florence” which is probably not her name but I don’t really care.

“Okay you can go on and let her through now. She’s good to go.”

I tugged my beard once. I tugged a second time. He stood there. She stood there. “Well thank you Flo.” I said as I passed through her line one last time.


Turning River

October 16, 2010

A new poem. I’m still working on the format and line breaks of this one. It may also grow in length. Who knows? Comments good or bad much obliged.

Turning River

I called her nikita.
the avenger.
Of course her name was Jenny
something or other.
This worked for us
against them she’d shout.
And point
an imaginary gun at some poor bastards head.
Don’t pull I’d think.
Don’t pull each time
she did and with a gusto that made me shiver.


The one with the Mount Everest of poo

September 16, 2010

Today is Thursday and you know what that means. Well yes it does mean Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia returns. That was a mean thing of you to point out. I mean I can’t compete with Sunny. Why even bother?

It also means it’s time for another TMI Thursday. I know I know you can hardly contain your excitement. It’s been a while (not really) and technically I should begin some of the chronicling the Key West roadie.

But it is our first Thursday back and well when I told Pelvic Joann and the wifey the story they were thoroughly grossed out.

So I’m back. I’m baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack in the saddle again.

So as I was thinking about what joke to make about Steven Tyler (drugs and alcohol being too easy) something hit me. This freaked me out because there’s nobody else here.

Heyoooooooooo!

I was going to go with how he resembles a (wide mouth) vase when he sings and doll up some vase with hair and scarves but that seemed like too much work.

Lazy ftw!

As I looked at pictures of Mr. Tyler there was a joke that wanted to come out but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

Because of the restraining order it has out on me. Heyoooooooooooo!
(What?)

He looked awful familiar to me—but who? And then I figured it out:

Photobucket

Am I right? He is so creepy.

Anybeautyandthebeastjokes I should probably move on. This TMI Thursday took places on the Three Shillelagh’s Hunt for the Key Master Tour (2010)

(Uhm what other year would it be?)

Sorry I digressed yet again. (I do that a lot.)

I’m writing this as we make our way into the rainy Florida night (10:33pm) on the final leg of the trip (to Key West). As we do we are listening to Katy Perry so yeah there might be some more digressing.

(Roar)

(See.)

We decided it was best to stop at a gas station and fill up the tank right before truly hitting the way to Key West. The rain was slowly coming down as we headed into the store to stock up on some drinks and what not. We bought a couple big pineapple (there were no big peach like in GA) to mix with the pinnacle whip vodka.

As Pelvy and I paid for our stuff the wife grabbed the key to the bathroom (it was outside) and took care of the diet Pepsi max she drank on the drive. I figured after I paid I’d head on over to the crapper and drain the lizard (make a sissy—take that wife!) My turn finally came and as I waited for it to be approved I felt the annoying (and often terrible) rumblings.

This did not bode well.

I mean the stomach rumblings and grumblings at a crappy looking Florida gas station late at night. Unfortunately it wasn’t going to be up for discussion. It wasn’t urgent or anything but I didn’t want to start a 3 or so hour drive with the need to film The Hunt for the Brown October.

I paid grabbed the grubby looking keys and handed off my purchases to the wifey. I made my way to the bathroom and switched the lights on. There was trash (empty candy wrappers and soda cans) on the floor. The rain from outside (or at least what I hope was mostly rain) had tracked in and made the floor very slippery.

One step in and I almost fell.

Woah.

2nd step inside as the door closes and yet another slip. This time I almost fell. I mean one foot came way up and I had to grab onto the sink to stop from falling. This is the time that my head went down near (not too near thankfully) to the toilet. Of course I was not too happy with what I saw. In the watery grave was a hill of poop and brown tinted toilet paper. It was high.

Some dick head didn’t flush this I thought to myself. Well just flush it first.

Oh.

There wasn’t even a handle. Or any other discernable way to flush either. Whatever. I can probably hold it. Maybe just take care of the pee part.

I peed.
I thought maybe I’d save someone else by destroying the fortress of poo and tp. The water in the bowl muddied a bit but otherwise the hill did not change. Washed my hands grabbed the key and made my way out.

Slip.

And as I caught myself for the 3rd time there was another slip. This one of the insides variety and it became apparent that it’d be best to take care of the filming of the sequel to the Hunt for the Red October right then and there.

Someone call Alec Baldwin!

I looked back in to the toilet. I sighed and decided that sitting down (the seat amazingly looked pretty clean) was not really an option. The hill of poop looked dangerously close to where the butt would rest. So I hovered and let go.

And let go some more.

And a little bit more.

Then I wiped and looked down.

Photobucket

If it was a math equation it would look like this: pre poo + jimi poo = poo hill over the brim.

Yes kiddies that picture isn’t exaggerating all that much. The poop reached a bit over the top of the bowl. I washed my hands, returned the keys and jumped in the car.

Of course I told them right away. The Katy Perry was momentarily replaced by a chorus of disgust by the ladies. I knew I had a tmi post for when I returned.

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine


The one with Joey Lawrence and peanut butter

August 25, 2010

First head on over to the B Movie Brigade and check out today’s “What a way to die.” It involves Space Marines, Leprechauns and Penis.

Do it! I’ll wait.

There is a mystery afoot! The unexplained has occurred.

Call Mulder
Call Scully

Actually wait just call Scully. I mean rawr. I don’t need that dick Mulder cock blocking me.

I mean uhm…these aren’t the droids you’re looking for.

Yeah X-Files and Star Wars jokes at the same time! I really am the Ron Jeremy of nerd references. I really don’t think there is anywhere this post can go from here. So I might as well just end it right? Some DMX lyrics just popped in my head but then I find that I had one of the line wrongs and it no longer applies for this joke.

Sorry Ruff Ryders.

Now that I’ve lost every single reader I guess I’ll move on to the reason we need Mulder and the very sexy Scully. Well first off I went to bed last night with a post in mind for today but somewhere between then and the morning it flew away. I’m pretty sure it was stolen by Leo and the gang Inception style.

It was either that or the fact that several times I walked into the living room and sillie bean (the wifey) was watching Melissa and Joey. Yep it’s a new show on ABC FAMILY that pairs Melissa Etheridge and Joey Mercury.

Photobucket

That’s right kiddos as if my brand of humor didn’t already chase readers off I made a reference to a nonexistent television show. A joke using a pop-based folk-rock singer with raspy vocals and an a vague wrestler.

I know how alienate everyone. It my friends is a gift.

Anyvaguejokes the actual show (there is one!) stars Melissa Joan Hart and Joey Lawrence.

(Woah)

I only went the route of the easy woah joke because we all know each of you did it at the mention of his name. Don’t try to deny it. Don’t you do it.

I will turn this blog around right now!

(woah)

What the hell was the point? Oh right the painful show that erased or warped my brain and stole my idea. That isn’t even the real mystery though. Oh no it’s weirder. I woke up and after stumbling into the kitchen to make some coffee went out to get the paper. No the mystery isn’t how come the paper was actually out there for a change.

I then proceeded into the office to sit at my computer and write this up for you. Aren’t I kind?

Well who asked you? Don’t answer that!

As I sat down I noticed something was awry. There was villainy afoot! There was something rotten in Denmark and etc. There was a spoon just sitting next to my computer:

Photobucket

There are a few possible explanations. As I wait for Scully to come sex this place up investigate I’ll go over them.

First it could have been the little elf that will complete my plays for me helping me become rich and famous. Oh they only help with shoes? Damn.

It could be that I’m crazy and eat peanut butter late at night without remembering it. Perhaps my wife sat down at the desk this morning to use my computer (hands off woman!) and eat peanut butter. She does like to snack on spoonfuls of the stuff.

I think the most plausible explanation is that overnight Joey Lawrence snuck into our apartment and surfed porn on my computer. He is a well known peanut butter fiend. The porn he watched (I imagine he watched Big Trouble in little Vagina) got him so hot that he forgot to put the spoon away. Perhaps he heard something and rushed off leaving the evidence?

Photobucket

For what it’s worth the wifey thinks she put it down to give me a hug the night before but I don’t remember that. I think she’s covering up for Joey.

Like a conspiracy woah.

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine


%d bloggers like this: