I was in Madison this past Friday and had quite an interesting day. It was yet another rainy and crappy day, with leaves everywhere and soggy under my feet. I'm used to crunchy leaves on the ground, but instead it feels like walking on used diapers from a week ago. Regardless of what was on the ground, it was a day where an umbrella was necessary. I don't use them that often, only because I only find them useful when people are passed out at my house and we pose with umbrellas over them. It's hard to describe, but just trust me on it.

I was contemplating what the umbrella etiquette was when walking on a narrow sidewalk or walking out of a store with an umbrella open. I was walking down the sidewalk and ran into at least 5 umbrellas, two of which were pink umbrellas carried by men. There was no apology, no stopping to let the other umbrella through, and no eye contact. Everyone just walked by, laughing, giggling with their loved ones, and oblivious to my dismay. I decided to get this 68 inch umbrella and walk around bullying other small umbrellas. People around town will start calling me the "Umbrella Fella." I'll hijack trucks and airplanes and call the mission "The Umbrella Heist." Then eveyone that was involved in the heist will all get killed off by umbrellas. My journey will continue when I create A.U.I. (Artificial Umbrella Intelligence) and program them to eat hot habanero peppers and stand over people to drench them with the sweat from the peppers.

After my umbrella debaucle, Ms. Jameson and I were driving around and she commented on how nice the trees looked in the Fall. "The colors are so nice!!" she said. I replied, "They're poop colored if you ask me."

"Well that's not true at all."

I said, "There's nothing I love more than poop colored trees. Look! They even poop all over the ground and make it look like a diarrhea lake wherever you go! How nice of the trees to do that. This part of the Earth looks like a giant toilet. I want to be a kid again and instead of thinking I'm jumping into that great pile of leaves, I'd think I was jumping into a giant pile of manure. But manure is from animals, so maybe it's called "Treenure." I LOVE THIS SEASON!!"

No reply. Smart.

We continued on to a haunted house in Sun Prairie. Now I haven't been to one of these in 15 years, so my wisdom and genius had to be put on hold for this visit. Here are a few things:

1) The guy organizing the line was wearing this riduculous hat and talked a lot with his hands. The way he was talking with his hands was like he was balancing a soda can on the back of his hand every time he finished a statement. I took one look at him and saw sadness in his eyes. He must have been bummed that he was missing the gay eskimo parade that was going on where he was supposed to build a rainbow igloo on the tranny stage. Damn Halloween responsibilties.

2) There was a board with all the sponsors of the haunted house. I saw Jimmy John's, Taco Bell, etc. I pointed this out to Ms. Jameson, and she replied, "Oh yeah look! Porn also is a sponsor."

"Did you say porn?"

"No, DORN."

"Oh...damn."

3) They said no running. It was pitch black for most of the house and I walked into at least 7 walls walking at Gary pace. They might as well have told me not to eat anything I saw either. And to not punch the actors in the face when they jump out at me. Or pee in corner.

Rain Rain go away. Seriously. Go the fuck away.

The title reveals just a few of the various things that I did this past weekend. I was surrounded by legions of hand-stamped meatheads, I love college t-shirts, every slut in Milwaukee hoping to get lucky at the meet-and-greet with Dane Cook, dead flowers and fallen leaves that look like dog poop that may be dog poop but ends up not being dog poop and the other pile of leaves that doesn't look like dog poop I end up stepping in is, in fact, dog poop. Aside from the poop incident, the weekend turned out to be educational. Not in terms of personal brain development, but more in terms of things I'm glad I don't do or are a part of. Ever.

1) My roommate is a tattoo artist and sees some of the most ridiculous tattoos on Earth. Praying hands holding the carcass of the devil, evil skeletons giving it to pin-up girls doggy style, a roll of toliet paper sitting on a pile of unmarked $100 bills, and many others. After seeing some of these, he sometimes informs us of the most idiotic tattoo that he had seen that week. He arrived home the other day and told Luke (my other roommate) and I about a girl that had a penis on her foot. It apparently went from the middle of her shin all the way to begininng of her toes. He said, "She had this crazy ass tattoo, but she was a cool chick. She was normal."

Luke replied, "A normal chick with a dick on her foot?"

Couldn't. Stop. Laughing.

2) I helped a friend move into a new apartment last week. She didn't have too many things, so the move was relatively easy. She said we had to make one more stop before going to the new place, so I had no choice but to ride along. We were approaching the house when she blurted, "Oh, Pam is home. Eww she has a new boyfriend now. It's so gross."

I innocently asked, "Oh, is that your little sister?"

She replied, "No, it's my Mom."

"Oh. That's...kinda...weird."

I tried really hard not to laugh, so I looked out the window and started thinking about the Brewer's last season when Suppan lost our final game in the playoffs and the whole stadium was silent after he gave up two home runs back to back. A suffucient way to control my laughter.

Oh, I'm the weird one now? What do you think about to control laughter? Yeah, you just thought of it. You're just as weird as I am. Suck-ass.

3) I was at the Olbrich Gardens in Madison this past Saturday for the first time. Ms. Jameson assured me that it was beautiful and a time I would never forget. I approached the situation with caution, and since all the flowers were dead by this time of the year, I gave her a pretty hard time about it. I would point out how nice dead flowers looked and that I wanted to take pictures of each one. She wasn't amused after the 23rd time, so I decided to switch it up. I then pointed at every flower in the garden and asked if it was poisonous. It went something like this:

"Hey, is that flower poisonous?"

"No, it's not. None of the flowers here are, Jimmy."

"Oh, ok. How about that one? Is that one poisonous?"

"No, Jimmy. it's not."

"I thought you said they were all poisonous?"

"No. And I'm not amused."

This continued for another 10 minutes until I realized I should lay off so I can use this joke when we return in the Spring. It's called strategy.

4) I was at a college bar in Madison (yeah, really) and a friend of mine was sitting across from me. He sniffed the air around him, looked at his hand, smelled it hesitantly, and said, "My hand smells like piss. Does my had smell like piss? Take a whiff..."

I replied, "Jack, get your penis hands away from me."

He continued to sniff his hands and try to figure out if it was piss or not. I sat and watched. And took notes.

5) I met a freind of a friend previously and had forgotten his name. I asked Jack, "Hey, what's that guys name again?"

"Carrie."

It was quite loud in the bar, so I wanted to clarify. "Carrie? Like Carrie Underwood?"

"Yes. Exactly like that."

Not suprisingly, Carrie somewhat resembled Florence Nightengale. Hmmm...

On to the next...day.

So here I am, at Alterra just happy to be out of the house. I have so many ideas and stories to share but just couldn't manage to find motivation at the crib. I thought maybe rolling out in the brisk cold air would shed some light onto creativity. There are currently 10 laptops runnning in this place, 2 naughty ass kids throwing coffee beans at eachother, a she-man, and a guy with an armpit digger shirt on. Amongst all this action, I have news from the weekend:

1) My roommate was telling me that he had to pay all these parking tickets on Friday. He currently has no car, so I asked how he accumulated parking tickets without a car. He replied, "Well, I loaned Jon my liscense plate."

Really?

2) I was djing at a club this weekend and here are some of my thoughts from that evening:

a) That's a sweater lady, NOT a dress

b) Who's that guy dancing like a ballerina over there? Smatrick, I think your cousin is here

c) That's a HUGE bitch!

d) Seriously, get your ass out of my face. And get down from that speaker. You're breaking the weight limit which is 300 lb

e) Who's that dancing with that fat bitch? Is that...oh my. That IS my friend. I'm embarrassed.

3) I was texting a friend with this: "Ok, I will let you know before I contact her." I was driving at the time, and didn't look at what I was typing. The Iphone autocorrected to this: "On, I will let UPI ecoterrorism I contest Jeer."

His response: "Um, ok. I'll wait to hear from you. Ecoterrorism. Interesting."

Try typing "before" and if you mispell, it turns to "ecoterrorism." I want to work for Apple so I can suggest autocorrect words that nobody would ever use. Almost like being a Meteorologist. Say it with me: Pointless.

Intermission: Guy next to me just farted. Really fucking bad. His face is so innocent, like he didn't do anything. I looked at him, curled my eyebrows with the "that shit stinks" look, and covered my face with my hand as I looked away. He hung his head in shame, waved his hand behind his seat in a meager effort to shoo the stench away, and continued working on his work. Moving to another station.

4) I was ordering coffee and reached for my wallet. i realized it was wet, and decided to take it out of my pocket. Perplexed, I reached back in my pocket and found an empty bottle of hand santizer spray. I put two and three together and knew my wallet was soaked in sanitizer. Not wanting to waste what was left, I started rubbing my hands all over my wallet trying to get every last drop of sanitizer on my hands before it dried up.

Meanwhile, the clerk was waiting for my payment, watching me with awe the entire time. Her face didn't give away what she was thinking probably because she didn't know what to think. I got lost in the moment, forgot she was there, and was brought back to reality when she said, "Um, are you ok?"

I replied, "Just looking for my money."

I laughed nervously, handed her 2 dollar bills, and walked away.

My hands touched money. Dirty once again. Whole process was pointless. Shit.

On to the next one.

Writer's Block. Damnit.

"Billy, what did you identify this shape as for homework last night?"

"it looks like a drive shaft, Ms. Rothenchildless"

"That may be correct. It could be a various amount of things. A pitch for a tent, a flag pole, a sub sandwich with a meatball on top, an upside down view of a straw in a bubble tea drink, or a lamp without a lampshade."

"My mother reads novels, and she told me it's a quivering member. What is that, Ms. Rothenchildless?"

"Just out of curiosity, what book club is she part of? I'm just wondering because she sounds like an awfully intellingent woman."

1) There are a lot of scooters in the city of Madison. There are also a fair amount right here in Milwaukee. Every time I see one, I curse it to Hell and hope that someone steals it from them while it's parked somewhere. When they steal it, they dissect it like Gone in 60 seconds meets 2 Fast 2 Furious, and sell the parts to a local electrician artist who specializes in scooter mockery. With all that said, I have found someone that actually knows about these God-awful machines. I did not find them willingly, and am in no way a better person because of it. Our friend Smatrick just happens to be that person.

We were riding in the car the other day and a scooter passed us. I started cursing at him with the windows up (yeah, I'm bad) and threw every obscene finger gesture I knew in their general direction. I commented on how much I hate scooters, in particular the one we saw, and Smatrick says, "Hey, thats the Honda Rawkus model. Nice scooter I'd have to say."

I replied, "Get outta my car, jive turkey. NOW."

"Did you just call me a jive turkey?"

Man in the backseat said, "I think we can all agree that Jimmy called you a cocksucker."

I said, "Yeah that's what I said. Now get outta my car, you little cocksucker.

For a guy not having many points to begin with, he lost a few more.

2) I offered a piece of gum to Jer and told him it was really good gum. That it's the best gum I've ever had. He took the piece, chewed it, and said, "Wow! This IS good! I'm a gum guy and this is great gum!"

I replied, "What the Hell is a gum guy?"

He said, "I am. Stupid."

Well played.

I'm tired. Fuck this blog shit.

Until next week at least.  

"Grandpa, seriously. Can you take that hat off? It's embarrassing."

"But why? I feel so much more aerodynamic with it on. Like at any given moment I can fly to another geriatrics rescue and be the wrinkley hero of the day!"

"Gramps, I understand that. Sort of. Just do us all a favor and take it off. I'll get you your favorite prune flavored ice cream and rub it all over your sore feet. It helps with your pores you know."

"Who gives a shit about the pores on your feet? You may be my nephew, but you're a fucking idiot."

When my friends see me writing things down in my notebook, they know that they may end up on this blog. I have realized that some friends of mine have been acting quite normal around me since I started writing on a daily basis. Being polite, opening doors for me, pulling chairs out, giving me reach-arounds, offering rub-and-tugs, and complimenting me any way they can.

"Great ass, Jimmy." 

"No, no. I would never even THINK that you look like a Jonas brother."

"Wow, you weren't kidding. That IS a fire hose!"

I have found all of this to be quite amusing, and am willing to take full advantage of it. Although I will also be extra watchful for times when the normal suits come off and the true weirdness shines. Anyways, here are some things that happened to me when I left the house yesterday:

1) I went to the AT&T store to see why my rollover minutes were not showing up online when I logged in. The female associate, short and fat, ran to the front door to help me. I explained my situation, and she escorted me to her desk where she could bring my account up. I sat down, and I immediately noticed that I could see her nipples through her shirt. Her nipples were so hard they could probably cut glass. Mouth breather and extremely unattractive, I found myself not being able to keep my eyes off her chest. I'm not normally like that, but it was so blatantly obvious that they became headlights and I all of sudden I had 10-point antlers. I had to write this down quickly so I wouldn't forget, and reached in my pocket for my notebook and pen. Notebook: check. Pen: shit. No pen. I looked at the associate, glanced one more time at her hideous face, and asked, "Do you have a pen I can borrow?" She gave it to me with a smile and a wink. That may have been what I said, but what I was thinking was,

"Hey Ugly Duckings' lesbian cousin, can I borrow a pen so I can write about how unattractive you are and that maybe a bra might be a good idea so little boys that come into the store that don't know anything about tits aren't tainted for life? Because I know that nightmares are going to visit me this evening. Yeah, thanks a lot."

I'm calling customer service next time.

2) I was out to eat with a couple friends and we were sitting by a table with a daughter, baby, and parents. This was all normal and fine, but all of sudden the waiter picked up the baby and started walking around the restaurant with it. It was so awkward because the waiter brought the baby by all the raw fish and was saying, "You like that? That salmon is a pretty color, isn't it?" I started to wonder:

a) Did his children play with raw fish at home?

b) Family's thoughts: "Sure, let's let the waiter play with our baby. I'm sure he didn't just get done taking out the trash five minutes ago."

c) Get the wasabi AWAY from the baby. Yeah, don't let her grab it and play with it. Seriously. 

He finally put the baby down, and returned to the fryers where he assisted in dunking shrimp tempura for orders. With no gloves. Nice. 

3) My guy (Let's call him Rupert) was informing me that Californians spend 25% of their lives stuck in traffic. I found this to be ridiculous, but he followed up with, "Yeah man. that's like 10 years!" 

I replied, "So you're planning on living until 40 only?"

He laughed nervously, shifted his eyes from left to right, and said, "Uh, you want a shot?"

He escaped to the bar, shoving women and children out of the way to bury himself among the other thirsty patrons. 

Is this the tell tale sign for weirdos? i think so. 

Watch yourselves, friends. Watch it. I lurk like the lurker. He's a genius. 

It amazes me that anyone could actually enjoy this time of the year. I look at Fall as a preview to the depression of Winter to come. It shows that it's only a taste of the cold about to arrive, and gives me the chills more because I never know if it's simply long sleeve weather or if I have to get a stupid jacket out. Fall is the season for football, and after watching the game last night with some people at my house, some things seemed a bit off. Just like the Packers. OK:

1) The other day a conversation about toliet seat liners came about. Well, actually I brought it up because I'm still confused as to why there is a middle cut-out part on the liners. When you put it on the seat, the middle just hangs it's tip in the water like old lady's sitting poolside that don't want to get their hair wet. Let's put a bathing suit and have every intention to get wet as little as possible. Anyways, the purpose of said middle part is a mystery to me. I tried to think of possibilities of various purposes it may serve. I know there are two types of numero dos: the machine gun technique and the giving birth technique. When you're shitting, those are the two different options that your ass has when it speaks to the toilet. So for machine gun technique, the middle part (let's just call it "middley") acts as a waterfall base for your shit and enables the possibility of splashback on your ass which is no good at all. But with the giving birth technique, the middley acts as a landslide for your poop child and keeps you from danger of splashback. After experiencing both techniques, and with some trial and error, I have decided to remove middley while machine gunning and leave it attached while giving birth. I hope this helps you all out there for splash-free shits. 

Just re-read. Questionable rant.

2) Smatrick, once again, has done it again. He manages to make it on here without ever trying. Last night, during the Packer game, I noticed he was cheering for BOTH sides. Yes, the Packers AND the Vikings. I think he was confused as to what was going on, and he figured nobody would notice since everyone was drinking and cheering at various times. He was trying to cheer when everyone else did, and when he did and nobody else did, he cowered like a puppy that just pooped in the corner of your white-carpeted room and was ashamed of it. This happened a few times, and when nobody said anything, his shame turned into confidence and he cheered whenever he wanted, even during commercials. I couldn't take the cheering for Vikings first downs and Packers touchdowns anymore so I asked him why he was cheering for both sides. 

He looked, laughed nervously, and replied, "Uh, you want a shot?"

He escaped to the kitchen, shoving women and children out of the way to bury himself behind the fridge door, acting like he was looking for something. 

Man is he weird. 

3) There was a guy at my house last night that was a friend of my roommates. He walked in high as shit, and sat down immediately consuming all the pizza that was available. He then proceeded to reach to the table for the tortilla chips. He half smiled, an attempt to show some other emotion besides "I'm a dumb idiot" (yes that's an emotion). He then looked for salsa, the perfect compliment for mid-game snacking. He realized there was none in sight, and said to one of his buddies across the room, "Hey......um......Joe. Yeah. Can you......uh........get me the salsa......in the .....um.....fridge....because....I....can't." 

He wasn't kidding either. I think he puked in our kitchen sink too. On the clean dishes. 

Weirdos, weirdos, weirdos. 

4) I was telling a friend last night that Cedar Rapids have the best strip clubs. A single dollar goes a long way there. He then asked me, "Is Cedar Rapids in Canada?"

Really? I mean REALLY?

5) PJ was commenting on how great his Toyota Hybrid Camry was. He told me, "Yeah man. It has great gas mileage. It's been on a quarter tank since Sunday!"

I replied, "PJ, it's Monday. You didn't leave your house yesterday either."

He looked back at Smatrick and sent a thought through osmosis saying, "Uh, you want a shot?"

Told you it was weirdo season. I'm starting to think it should be weirdo year. Weird. 

During this season of crapiness (Fall is the worst season EVER), there are a lot of sicklings walking around trying to spread their disease. From the flu to a simple head cold, nobody considers others when coughing, sneezing, or spitting in someone's face. So, with that said, here are a few points on this subject and some other nonsense that happened this past weekend:

1) Why don't assholes wash their hands after taking care of business in the washroom? The soap is literally 6 inches away from the faucet and it takes an extra two seconds to lather up and scrub away the pubes on your hands. I ran across plenty of fools this weekend that refused to use soap. One thing about me is that when I get drunk, I ask guys why they did'nt use soap. They always answer, "Oh, well I don't need it." Yes, Motherfucker, you do. All these guys, walking around with pubes penis hands, giving high fives to everyone, grabbing chicks asses, touching their own faces, sharing food with friends, sucking on their fingers full of wing sauce and pubey salad dressing. They say a door handle is dirtier than a toilet seat. Well, when a dude is walking around with penis hands, then I completely agree. Next time I see a guy walk out of a bathroom, I'm just gonna scream, "Get your penis hands away from me jerk. You're a jerk. You're a jerk. You're a jerk. Jerk. Jerk. Jerk." 

2) I like to stay in shape and hit the gym about 5 days a week. Now with being concerned about my own body and trying to develop it so you can scrub laundry on my abs, I have learned to appreciate movie stars and their bodies with all the hard work I know they put in. I may talk of it once in a while, but I made the mistake by discussing it with Smatrick. We were having a normal conversation about it, but every time he would mention a body that he liked, say Brad Pitt in Fight Club, he would make an "ungh!" sound. He would say something like, "Yeah, like Ryan Reynolds in Blade Trinity. He's so huge! Ungh!!" I thought it was slightly odd, but what was even more odd is that it happened more than once. I mean, it happened at least 6 times before I said something. i asked, "Why do you have to make that sound when you're talking about men's bodies?"

He looked, laughed nervously, and replied, "Uh, want a shot?" 

He then escaped to the bar, shoving women and children out of his way to bury himself among other thirsty patrons. 

Man is he weird.

3) When there is a foul smell in the air, I always remark that it "smells like the inside of an ass." I find it a nice descriptive way to inform others that I do not enjoy the aroma in the room. I said this, and Ms. Jameson asked, "How do you know what that smells like?"

I answered, "Well I don't. I just think it turns heads when I say it. People say "it smells like ass" and nobody really cares. It's like saying, "I'm really stupid. Punch me in the face." 

Smatrick, who was silent this whole time, chimed in with, "I know what the inside of an ass TASTES like."

I looked at him and said, "Seriously? Do you enjoy appearing on my blog everyday? If so, just keep being yourself."

He looked, laughed nervously, and replied, "Uh, want a shot?" 

He then escaped to the bar, shoving women and children out of his way to bury himself among other thirsty patrons. 

Man is he weird.

4) While I was djing this weekend, I got three requests for "Will you be there" by Michael Jackson. It's from the Free Willy soundtrack. I told one of the girl's that requested this awful song that I didn't have it and had no intentions of ever acquiring it. She replied, "Well, the other dj at Murphy's plays it."

Bitch go there then. 

5) I went to my best friend's Navy graduation on Friday. I was djing the night before, and had to wake up at 430am to meet my ride. I got 1.5 hours of sleep and was half dead when I met up with everyone else. On the trip at about 7am, eyes still burning and coffee too hot to sip, the guy in the front seat (let's call him PJ) turned around and asked me, "Have you ever eaten goat balls?"

"No, PJ. I've never eaten goat balls. Thanks for ruining the rest of my day."

He replied, "Oh, I was just wondering."

Who wonders about shit like that at 7am? Or any time of the day for that matter?

He's weird too. 

All these weirdos, all these jerks. It almost makes the blog run itself. I like to call it A.B.I. Artificial Blog Intelligence. Yes, you are right. It IS genius.