day four and my junk

August 10, 2011

Get your flippers and goggles on cause we just gonna jump right into Day number four at work. Want to catch up on the earlier insanity? Day 1 had John Waters and Goblins. Everyone had a laugh with day 2 and jimi eating geese. You may be asking “where is day 3?” or “damn Jimi can’t you even count to 4?”

(Nothing gets by any of you.)

Day 3 was pretty much uneventful. I walked to work and my leg really was hurting by the end. I’m not sure why though. I had some more training and made an epic joke. The guy doing the training didn’t get it, but that is par for the course. That joke will be revealed in the next Conversations with Jimi post. So kiddies we skip ahead to day four because something funny happened. Not so funny for me, but yeah I suppose I can look back and laugh.

This was my first day to wear my big boy blazer and work a gallery all by my lonesome. Despite my manger’s inability to get my name right I was hopeful. I was assigned the Early Christian and Western Medieval galleries. These two aren’t exactly the most popular ones and so were a bit easier. I settled in for my first 8 hours alone.

The main thing in these galleries (in terms of protecting) is the floor mosaics. There are four of them in all, with 2 of them being at child level. They seem (apparently) very inviting for kids to touch. One has been damaged and we’re told to pay close attention to that area.

The shift was going pretty smoothly. I’d had lunch and was feeling pretty content. I remember thinking “ah today isn’t too bad, maybe I’ll be okay in this job.” A couple of families made their way into the gallery with the mosaics and I made sure to park myself nearby. Two kids were listening intently to what their adult was saying. Another girl was with a woman. She was paying attention to the little girl and all was okay.

Then the girl (bored or maybe just happy) started to twirl. Now she was with her mom and not near art so I stayed back. I figured I’ll let the mom handle it, so as to not appear to be telling her how to handle her kid. I decided to see what happens and if she did it again without being told to stop I’d step in. She walked on.

Twirling.

(Damn!)

I started to step forward. The mom saw her twirling and told her to stop. The girl stopped immediately. The problem? I was nearing her and her hands didn’t stop in time.

BAM!

Little girl hand meets jimi’s junk.

(OUCH.)

What came out (softly): ugrherdddddf.

For her part the little girl said sorry as soon as it happened. The mom apologized many times too. You know as I fell into the fetal position on the floor.

Okay it didn’t hurt that bad but it hurt. Those tiny fingers managed to find the right spot to cause most pain.

Yeah.

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The one where I get a handy on stage

December 20, 2010

Sunday bloody Sunday….no you didn’t accidentally come across Bono or the edges secret blog.

(I imagine their blog would consist solely of them repeating lyrics and giving grooming tips.)

One of these days I’ll figure out why I use parenthesis for statements like that.

Can he stop making the same joke every post?

(I dunno can i?)

Probably not. This weekend was all about the live shows it seems. Friday I went (all by myself. Sniff Sniff) to a wrestling show. It was held in a church banquet/bingo hall in Lakewood. The show was AIWs (Absolute Intense Wrestling) Nightmare before X-Mas 4. It was a good time and has its own story that sometime soon will be up here. Saturday night the wifey and I went to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat at the Beck Center. The show was decent but also not the point of this post.

What is the point you ask? I’m not sure there really ever is a point.

Anypointless the next thing we attended was a dinner theatre production of A Christmas Carol. This was way out in Geneva. Now I am not a big fan of A Christmas Carol. I mean not play or movie wise. I’m tired of it. I don’t need to see it again—ever. If it isn’t Scrooged I really don’t need to see it ever again.

Now her dad and stepmom didn’t know this. They just wanted to share something they enjoyed and thought was great. They’ve been to the place that does the dinner theatre on numerous occasions. One of which was a Poe themed one that they rave about and continually say how they wish I could’ve been there. They care. They know how important theatre is in our (wife and I) lives and it’s done with love. So you know when they wanted us to go to a show there I was willing to. I mean it would be an easy way to make them happy and they’ve done so much for me.

Oh it’s for A Christmas Carol? Damn.

Okay fine fine. It’ll make them happy. Then it happened that I would be out of time. Darn. The wife would be attending without me. It happens. They’d still be happy to go with her. Then it turns out that I would be in town and they could get us all tickets.

Damn.

Oh well you know bite the bullet and all that jazz. I was prepared to go once. Okay I’m in. They are buying after all. I do preach supporting live. Wait Sunday at 2pm? Like during the Browns game?

DAMN.

Okay. I can handle it. That’s fine. We drive up there—which was no picnic—and had to listen to Christmas music most of the ride up. Then we got the Browns game on the radio and it was okay. We get there and are seated and what not. You know at tables with other people.

Aw crap.

Oh well nice people I’m sure and at least they aren’t trying to talk to me. Oh man why does the kid have to sit next to me? Oh booze. Hello. First up I had a white Christmas: Makers Mark bourbon and eggnog. Yummy.
Oh what is this? A drink called The Ghost of Christmas Past.

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This included 7 different liquors that I can’t tell you because I left my program in the wifeys purse. I can tell you that there 2 different kind of rums in it. Whatever. They only let you get 2 per guest. The wife wouldn’t let me drink more than 2 drinks.

(Buzz Kill huh? Go here and tell her that.)

Anydrinky soon the show started. Well actually the play went on in scenes (most do) and then there would be a different course given. The food was delicious—or at least very good. Then they started bring audience into the play for certain scenes.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

Can you guess what eventually happened?

(Go on try.)

Yeah yours truly was chosen. Really bad choice because they were lucky I didn’t stab them with my fork. I went up angrily but you know willing to not give the actors shit. They have enough to deal with no? I was up there with my Cleveland City Stars scarf just hoping for it to be over. Apparently the wifey took a picture of me up there looking pissed but she has not given or even shown me it.

(Oh well.)

AnyfuckingParenthesis so there I am up there. They pass out birthday hats with numbers on them. The numbers are 1-12. Yep they want us to help them do the 12 days of Christmas. I was number 4. So they explain that we have to come up with a sound and noise associated with the number we had. I was 4 calling birds. As they worked on what some people would say (most peeps attention were on them and the group) something amazing happened. I of course was standing next to #3. I was on stage and she was on the floor next to me. She did her little French hen thing—which would be saying oui oui and doing some hand motions—and then she lost her balance.

She flailed. She grabbed for anything to catch her balance. Her hand went back and she grabbed my junk.
I mean this as literally as possible. A great big handful of jimis oui oui. And she held on to it too. For about 15-20 seconds before looking back and realizing it. She let go and mumbled something. Yeah.

Then we did are little 12 days rendition. Like a billion times. What was my thing?

Well I was 4 calling birds and when it came to me I waved and said:

“Hey birds.”

The people they laughed. Each and every time I did that. The in-laws totally got a kick out of it and repeated it often.


The one where I’m the gimp

July 14, 2010

We’ve all been there before. You know sitting in a chair and hurting. In the middle of having a heated discussion with someone and then you hear a simple sentence: Bring out the gimp.

Someone leaves. There is a whole bunch of noise. Chains can be heard.

(“What the hell?” you think.) Then you see this:

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And you just know that the throbbing in your foot is the least of your worries because you know you’re going to get bleeped in your butt. And believe me there ain’t no sword wielding Bruce Willis to save you either.

Okay woah! Timeout here people. What is the matter with you? How long were you going to let me go on with that? Sick people some of you are. Okay so I’m pretty sure none of you can relate to that. If you can then all I can say is sorry some men tied you up and butt raped you like the scene from Pulp Fiction. Also that I hope your butt feels better. I couldn’t resist putting that in here because well the next in the cult movie series at the Cedar Lee is Pulp Fiction. You’ll see the other reason soon. I didn’t do it because butt rape is funny or did I? No I didn’t why would you even ask that?

Anybuttrape on to the real story. This is the true story… of seven strangers… picked to live in a house…work together and have their lives taped… to find out what happens… when people stop being polite… and start getting real…The Real World.

Scratch all of that. If I can be serious for a moment. (Yeah! Late 90s early 2000’s wrestling reference! Lance Storm High Five) Truth is I woke up the other day and the right heel of my right foot hurt like a mofo! Like my foot was a new porn star and its butt (heel) was being slammed by an angry Ron Jeremy.
Just like that you all bring butt sex back into this.

Anylongdong I think there was a point to this. Ah yes my foot hurts like a mofo (but I already said that) and I don’t like it. It appears to be Gout but forget the self diagnosis jive you want some fun stuff.

Butt sex

So this morning I was faced with a real problem. I needed to go get the kitties some food. You know like walk somewhere. I had to because if they chose to revolt and eat me it’d be a lot easier to with my gimpy leg. Off I trudged (you know across the street) to the little Coventry convenience store. I was too far away (and too gimpy) to make it to the cross walk so at the red light I crossed mid street. As I limped lamely across a red truck turned. I suppose the driver had known how many points hitting a long haired dude with a limp was. I should have asked him how many. I know from The Toxic Avenger that it’s 28 points if you get the kid and the bike! He sped up and hit his horn at the same time.

“Move it gimp”

Yeah he actually yelled that at me. Bummed by the fact that my foot hurts, I got pwned by a douche in a chevy from like 1980 I limped sadly in to the store. I picked up the kitty food and some various other things and checked out. This helped cheer me up:

(A young kid points at a magazine where a woman sits on a car with a big butt and a tiny bathing suit on)
Kid: Daddy mommy has a butt like that.

And then when I limped up to the counter this happened.

Lady: You hurt your foot sweetie?
Me: Oh yeah. The heel.
Lady: Oh sweetie how?
Me: You know the running of the bulls?
Lady: Yeah!
Me: Well we do the running of the chickens. It’s in Lakewood.*
Lady: Oh seriously?
Guy behind counter: I think he’s pulling your leg.
Lady: That’s not funny.
Me: Have a good day.

*this is not true I clearly made it all up (some asked)

See sometimes you have to get through the butt sex pain to get to the funny.

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