I'm just answering the questions from Chuck Klosterman's book.

1. Let us assume you met a rudimentary magician. Let us assume he can do five simple tricks--he can pull a rabbit out of his hat, he can make a coin disappear, he can turn the ace of spades into the Joker card, and two others in a similar vein. These are his only tricks and he can't learn any more; he can only do these five. HOWEVER, it turns out he's doing these five tricks with real magic. It's not an illusion; he can actually conjure the bunny out of the ether and he can move the coin through space. He's legitimately magical, but extremely limited in scope and influence.

Would this person be more impressive than Albert Einstein?

What's better? Originality or an easy button?

Please don't say easy button.

2. Let us assume a fully grown, completely healthy Clydesdale horse has his hooves shackled to the ground while his head is held in place with thick rope. He is conscious and standing upright, but completely immobile. And let us assume that--for some reason--every political prisoner on earth (as cited by Amnesty International) will be released from captivity if you can kick this horse to death in less than twenty minutes. You are allowed to wear steel-toed boots.

Would you attempt to do this?

Definately not. Why should the horse suffer a brutal death (Hey, I can kick hard) because some dude in China felt like taking on the Chairman. Sorry Chinese guy, pick your battles better.

3. Let us assume there are two boxes on a table. In one box, there is a relatively normal turtle; in the other, Adolf Hitler's skull. You have to select one of these items for your home. If you select the turtle, you can't give it away and you have to keep it alive for two years; if either of these parameters are not met, you will be fined $999 by the state. If you select Hitler's skull, you are required to display it in a semi-prominent location in your living room for the same amount of time, although you will be paid a stipend of $120 per month for doing so. Display of the skull must be apolitical.

Which option do you select?

Uhhh, it's Hitler's skull. Talk about a conversation starter. Also, I'm not a fan of turtles that don't eat pizza and skateboard down the sewer pipe.

4. Genetic engineers at Johns Hopkins University announce that they have developed a so-called "super gorilla." Though the animal cannot speak, it has a sign language lexicon of over twelve thousand words, an I.Q. of almost 85, and--most notably--a vague sense of self-awareness. Oddly, the creature (who weighs seven hundred pounds) becomes fascinated by football. The gorilla aspires to play the game at its highest level and quickly develops the rudimentary skills of a defensive end. ESPN analyst Tom Jackson speculates that this gorilla would be "borderline unblockable" and would likely average six sacks a game (although Jackson concedes the beast might be susceptible to counters and misdirection plays). Meanwhile, the gorilla has made it clear he would never intentionally injure any opponent.

You are commissioner of the NFL: Would you allow this gorilla to sign with the Oakland Raiders?

Not unless I could convince the USOC to let some dolphin race against Michael Phelps.

5. You meet your soul mate. However, there is a catch: Every three years, someone will break both of your soul mate's collarbones with a Crescent wrench, and there is only one way you can stop this from happening: You must swallow a pill that will make every song you hear--for the rest of your life--sound as if it's being performed by the band Alice in Chains. When you hear Creedence Clearwater Revival on the radio, it will sound (to your ears) like it's being played by Alice in Chains. If you see Radiohead live, every one of their tunes will sound like it's being covered by Alice in Chains. When you hear a commercial jingle on TV, it will sound like Alice in Chains; if you sing to yourself in the shower, your voice will sound like deceased Alice vocalist Layne Staley performing a capella (but it will only sound this way to you).

Would you swallow the pill?

It depends on whether or not this chick thought I was her soul mate. I'd be pretty pissed if I did this and then she just wanted to hang out in the friend zone for the rest of eternity like 96% of all girls I like.

6. At long last, someone invents "the dream VCR." This machine allows you to tape an entire evening's worth of your own dreams, which you can then watch at your leisure. However, the inventor of the dream VCR will only allow you to use this device of you agree to a strange caveat: When you watch your dreams, you must do so with your family and your closest friends in the same room. They get to watch your dreams along with you. And if you don't agree to this, you can't use the dream VCR.

Would you still do this?

Absolutely not. I dream every night and always remember them. Also, I dream some fucked up shit that might make people think I'm weirder than what's already assumed.

7. Defying all expectation, a group of Scottish marine biologists capture a live Loch Ness Monster. In an almost unbelievable coincidence, a bear hunter in the Pacific Northwest shoots a Sasquatch in the thigh, thereby allowing zoologists to take the furry monster into captivity. These events happen on the same afternoon. That evening, the president announces he may have thyroid cancer and will undergo a biopsy later that week.

You are the front page editor of The New York Times: What do you play as the biggest story?

If Chris Brown and Rihanna get "Breaking News" coverage on CNN, I'm gonna throw up a side by side photo of Sasquatch and the Loch Ness Monster with a "Who Would Win" caption.

8. You meet the perfect person. Romantically, this person is ideal: You find them physically attractive, intellectually stimulating, consistently funny, and deeply compassionate. However, they have one quirk: This individual is obsessed with Jim Henson's gothic puppet fantasy The Dark Crystal. Beyond watching it on DVD at least once a month, he/she peppers casual conversation with Dark Crystal references, uses Dark Crystal analogies to explain everyday events, and occasionally likes to talk intensely about the film's "deeper philosophy."

Would this be enough to stop you from marrying this individual?

Of course not. I've found that smiling and chuckling a little in conversation make everyone else happy, so I'll just do that for the rest of my life.

Besides, maybe I'd like this gothic puppet fantasy - I do love Suicide Girls.

9. A novel titled Interior Mirror is released to mammoth commerical success (despite middling reviews). However, a curious social trend emerges: Though no one can prove a direct scientific link, it appears that almost 30 percent of the people who read this book immediately become homosexual. Many of these newfound homosexuals credit the book for helping them reach this conclusion about their orientation, despite the fact that Interior Mirror is ostensibly a crime novel with no homoerotic content (and was written by a straight man).

Would this phenomenon increase (or decrease) the likliehood of you reading this book?

Increase. I'd consider it a challenge. Don't tell me this book turns me into a unicorn loving rainbow warrior! I'll show you, book!

10. This is the opening line of Jay McInerney's Bright Lights, Big City: "You are not the kind of guy who would be in a place like this at this time of the morning." Think about that line in the context of the novel (assuming you've read it). Now go to your CD collection and find Heart's Little Queen album (assuming you own it). Listen to the opening riff to "Barracuda."

Which of these two introductions is a higher form of art?

The opening line of Bright Lights, Big City. Classic book, one of the few that I feel I can relate to on that emotional level people like to talk about.

Although Barracuda IS my favorite song to play on Guitar Hero.

11. You are watching a movie in a crowded theater. Though the plot is mediocre, you find yourself dazzled by the special effects. But with twenty minutes left in the film, you are struck with an undeniable feeling of doom: You are suddenly certain your mother has just died. There is no logical reason for this to be true, but you are certain of it. You are overtaken with the irrational metaphysical sense that--somewhere--your mom has just perished. But this is only an intuitive, amorphous feeling; there is no evidence for this, and your mother has not been ill.

Would you immediately exit the theater, or would you finish watching the movie?

I'd probably send a text. I'm not a big believer in all that intuition nonsense.

12. You meet a wizard in downtown Chicago. The wizard tells you he can make you more attractive if you pay him money. When you ask how this process works, the wizard points to a random person on the street. You look at this random stranger. The wizard says, "I will now make them a dollar more attractive." He waves his magic wand. Ostensibly, this person does not change at all; as far as you can tell, nothing is different. But--somehow--this person is suddenly a little more appealing. The tangible difference is invisible to the naked eye, but you can't deny that this person is vaguely sexier. This wizard has a weird rule, though--you can only pay him once. You can't keep giving him money until you're satisfied. You can only pay him one lump sum up front.

How much cash do you give the wizard?

I'd hope like hell there was an ATM close by, then I'd probably empty the coffers. I mean, c'mon, I'm not that sexy and everyone knows good-looking people rule the world.

13. Every person you have ever slept with is invited to a banquet where you are the guest of honor. No one will be in attendance except you, the collection of your former lovers, and the catering service. After the meal, you are asked to give a fifteen-minute speech to the assembly.

What do you talk about?

How there are not that many people there.

14. For reasons that cannot be explained, cats can suddenly read at a twelfth-grade level. They can't talk and they can't write, but they can read silently and understand the text. Many cats love this new skill, because they now have something to do all day while they lay around the house; however, a few cats become depressed, because reading forces them to realize the limitations of their existence (not to mention the utter frustration of being unable to express themselves).

This being the case, do you think the average cat would enjoy Garfield, or would cats find this cartoon to be an insulting caricature?

The average cat would definately enjoy it. I mean, Jesus, the average human enjoys TMZ.

15. You have a brain tumor. Though there is no discomfort at the moment, this tumor would unquestionably kill you in six months. However, your life can (and will) be saved by an operation; the only downside is that there will be a brutal incision to your frontal lobe. After the surgery, you will be significantly less intelligent. You will still be a fully functioning adult, but you will be less logical, you will have a terrible memory, and you will have little ability to understand complex concepts or difficult ideas. The surgery is in two weeks.

How do you spend the next fourteen days?

Explaining to my parents why not getting surgery is for the best. I have no interest in having below average intelligence.

16. Someone builds and optical portal that allows you to see a vision of your own life in the future (it’s essentially a crystal ball that shows a randomly selected image of what your life will be like in twenty years). You can only see into this portal for thirty seconds. When you finally peer into the crystal, you see yourself in a living room, two decades older than you are today. You are watching a Canadian football game, and you are extremely happy. You are wearing a CFL jersey. Your chair is surrounded by books and magazines that promote the Canadian Football League, and there are CFL pennants covering your walls. You are alone in the room, but you are gleefully muttering about historical moments in Canadian football history. It becomes clear that—for some unknown reason—you have become obsessed with Canadian football. And this future is static and absolute; no matter what you do, this future will happen. The optical portal is never wrong. This destiny cannot be changed.

The next day, you are flipping through television channels and randomly come across a pre-season CFL game between the Toronto Argonauts and the Saskatchewan Roughriders. Knowing your inevitable future, do you now watch it?

What's the rush? If I'm going to spend the elder part of my life cheering for America's Hat, I'll spend the younger ones watching porn and playing video games.

17. You are sitting in an empty bar (in a town you’ve never before visited), drinking Bacardi with a soft-spoken acquaintance you barely know. After an hour, a third individual walks into the tavern and sits by himself, and you ask your acquaintance who the new man is. “Be careful of that guy,” you are told. “He is a man with a past.” A few minutes later, a fourth person enters the bar; he also sits alone. You ask your acquaintance who this new individual is. “Be careful of that guy, too,” he says. “He is a man with no past.”

Which of these two people do you trust less?

The soft-spoken acquaintance. Over-dramaticize much? Yes, dramaticize. 

18. You have won a prize. The prize has two options, and you can choose either (but not both). The first option is a year in Europe with a monthly stipend of $2,000. The second option is ten minutes on the moon.

Which option do you select?

Dude? The Giant Tomato Fight? Running with the Bulls? Kid's gonna have a blast.

19. Your best friend is taking a nap on the floor of your living room. Suddenly, you are faced with a bizarre existential problem: This friend is going to die unless you kick them (as hard as you can) in the rib cage. If you don’t kick them while they slumber, they will never wake up. However, you can never explain this to your friend; if you later inform them that you did this to save their life, they will also die from that. So you have to kick a sleeping friend in the ribs, and you can’t tell them why.

Since you cannot tell your friend the truth, what excuse will you fabricate to explain this (seemingly inexplicable) attack?

"Haha, I just kicked you in the ribs".

20. For whatever the reason, two unauthorized movies are made about your life. The first is an independently released documentary, primarily comprised of interviews with people who know you and bootleg footage from your actual life. Critics are describing the documentary as “brutally honest and relentlessly fair.” Meanwhile, Columbia Tri-Star has produced a big-budget biopic of your life, casting major Hollywood stars as you and all your acquaintances; though the movie is based on actual events, screenwriters have taken some liberties with the facts. Critics are split on the artistic merits of this fictionalized account, but audiences love it.

Which film would you be most interested in seeing?

Big budget obviously. I know the brutally honest version of my life already, let's see it where I'm played by Nick Frost. Yeah, that's right, Nick Frost.

21. Imagine you could go back to the age of five and relive the rest of your life, knowing everything that you know now. You will reexperience your entire adolescence with both the cognitive ability of an adult and the memories of everything you’ve learned form having lived your life previously.

Would you lose your virginity earlier or later than you did the first time around (and by how many years)?

Earlier. The premise of this question is I have the maturity of a 26 year old. I'd probably be considered good to a high school girl.

That came out wrong.

Oh shit - Chris Hanson is here.

22. You work in an office. Generally, you are popular with your coworkers. However, you discover that there are currently two rumors circulating the office gossip mill, and both involve you. The first rumor is that you got drunk at the office holiday party and had sex with one of your married coworkers. This rumor is completely true, but most people don’t believe it. The second rumor is that you have been stealing hundreds of dollars of office supplies (and then selling them to cover a gambling debt). This rumor is completely false, but virtually everyone assumes it is factual.

Hahahahahahaahahahhahaha this question is the best.

It's like Chuck Klosterman asked my former employers questions about me.

23. Consider this possibility:

a. Think about deceased TV star John Ritter.

b. Now, pretend Ritter had never become famous. Pretend he was never affected by the trappings of fame, and try to imagine what his personality would have been like.

c. Now, imagine that this person—the unfamous John Ritter—is a character in a situation comedy.

d. Now, you are also a character in this sitcom, and the unfamous John Ritter character is your sitcom father.

e. However, this sitcom is actually your real life. In other words, you are living inside a sitcom: Everything about our life is a construction, featuring the unfamous John Ritter playing himself (in the role of your TV father). But this is not a sitcom. This is your real life.

How would you feel about this?

Hmmm - well The Truman Show was a good movie, so hopefully the Jimbo Show is a good sitcom.

As I may have pointed out in the past, I hate people. A lot. So much so that the highlight of my recent Ohio Adventure was finding out that my flight to Philly was about 35% booked – so I was going to have tons of lounge space.

Yeah. Good things don’t happen to me.

I walk to the back row (window seat) and immerse myself in headphone bliss. I’m pretty much the only person situated in the last 5 rows. AWESOME.

Of course this means about 3 seconds later some girl walks to the next to last row and sits right in front of me. I silently throw some F bombs at her, then decide that seeing its only about an hour flight, it’s not really worth getting mad.

Then she decides she wants to nap on the flight.

She must have put her entire 80 pound frame into the button push, because her seat flies back and stings me with the most debilitating ATTILB (Airline Tray Table Inflicted Low Blow) in history. To her credit, she turned around really quickly to apologize – but I couldn’t breathe and was dealing with a super stomach ache, so I didn’t acknowledge her.

She rolled her eyes and made some snide comment about “Well…I AM sorry….”

Whatever, bitch….my balls hurt.

Obviously this would make a flight suck for normal people…but I am not normal, and if something bad happens to me it has to go to the extreme.

A few minutes later my stomach stops killing me and I start flipping through a Sky Mall magazine.

Did you know you can buy a Harry Potter wand? You can….

Anyway, all of a sudden some 70 year old bag drops her leathery ass in the seat right next to me. You’ve got to be kidding me. I slowly gaze in her direction to shoot a wide eyed “you’ve got to be kidding me” look – only to find ouot she’s shotting some googly eyes in my direction.

Jim: ……hi.
Lady: I hope you don’t mind me sitting here.
Jim: Uhhh…….is that your seat?
Lady: No, but I have this thing about flying, and I need to be in the back row.
Jim: The other row is empty.
Lady: *Heavy Sigh* I’m already sitting down. Is it that big of a deal? You can move if you want to.
Jim: ……….whatever. I’m already buckled anyway.

And that my friends, is the breakdown of a terrible decision.

We take off and instantaneously I’m wishing death on this lady. She’s a cougher. Every 31 seconds I get a throat clear, a flem throw, or some other annoying noise. This goes on for about 20 minutes until the stewardess comes by with drinks. I get my diet coke, finish it off, and then start chewing on the ice.

Yes, I’m an ice chewer. Get over it.

Jim: chompchompchomp
*I notice the old hag looking at me*
Jim: chewchewchew
Lady: *COUGH*
Jim: crunchcrunchcrunch.
Lady: Excuse me, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but do you mind not chewing your ice? It’s terribly annoying.
Jim: ……………………………………………………………………………….are you serious?
Lady: Yes, it’s just getting under my skin a little bit. I’m really sorry.
Jim: Yeah……I’m sorry. But I have to chew the ice. I’m kinda/sorta OCD and I chew ice after I finish a drink. I don’t know what to tell you.
Lady: *Super Heavy Sigh* You know what? Just forget it, why would you listen to me anyway.
Jim: Wow.
Lady: What?
Jim: Nothing.

So I’m ready for the plane to land any time now. Of course, this means we run into some heavy turbulence. And I’m not exaggerating the heavy – it was pretty bad. Naturally, the lady next to me sits in the back of planes because she is PETRIFIED of flying, and somehow feels safer back there.

She goes nuts.

She basically just starts screaming and yelling out bible verses. I’m not kidding. At this point, the girl in front of me turns around to stare at us, then looks at me like I’m supposed to do something about it.

I just shrug my shoulders and say, “She’s freaking out, huh?”

This does not get a laugh, and the chick walks around to the old lady to try to comfort her and whatnot.

Lady: I don’t feel good. I don’t feel good. I don’t feel good.
Girl: It’ll be ok, don’t worry. We’re almost there.
Lady: I’m going to be sick.
*At this point I try to squeeze as close to the window as I can*
Lady: I’m going to throw up.
Jim: There’s the bag. Just do it in there. Away from me.
*Girl scowls at me*

At this point, the Golden Girl starting puking her brains out in her little baggie.

She has terrible aim.

She’s getting half of it in the bag, which means half of it is splashing on my shoes. I try to move, and when that is unsuccessful, I grab the Sky Mall and try to form a ‘superfluous items no one should buy’ blockade. This helps my shoes, but it doesn’t help my face, as now the bottom of my chin is getting speckled with belly bits.

The smell isn’t helping, and I feel like now I am going to puke for days.

She runs off to the bathroom finally, and an over apologetic flight attendant gives me some wet paper towels. Because that’s going to make me hygienic.

I scrub myself down, but now to my dismay it now looks like I decided to go to the bathroom without unzipping my pants.

My plan now is to basically run off this plane, hit the bathroom, and change into a different pair of jeans.

I forgot to pack a 2nd pair of jeans.

I am an idiot.

The next flight is super-full, and it’s basically standing room only at the gate.

I’m the kid with the wet spot near his crotch.

Everyone is staring at me.

I hate the world.

 1. Detroit Lions - Matt Stafford
They're idiots for not going with Eugene Monroe, whose going to end up being the best LT in the bunch. I mean, they're gonna suck this year. Just wait for Sam Bradford.

2. St Louis Rams - Jason Smith
See #1. For some reason he's getting more pub than Monroe. I don't see it. 

3. KC Chiefs - Aaron Curry
I actually doubt that Curry is the pick here. New England took a LB in RD 1 last year for the first time in a decade, and people seem to think that means Piloi is now in love with taking linebackers. The only reason I have him going now is because I'm starting to get nightmares that both he and Crabtree will be on the board at 5 and Mangenius will have to pass on one.

4. Seattle Seahawks - Mark Sanchez
They were inches from cutting Hasselback in the offseason - and if that happened Seneca Wallace would be the starter. Yeah. I think they can afford to take Vinnie Chase to groom and still go 10-6 or something if no one gets hurt. I'm also crying if reports are true and he goes to Cleveland, so I'm taking that option off the board.

5. Cleveland Browns - Michael Crabtree
Well, I guess ending up with the 2nd best player in the draft at number 5 is ok. 

6. Cincinnatti Bengals - Eugene Monroe
Best tackle in the draft, Levi Jones is no longer Levi Jones.

7. Oakland Raiders - Michael Johnson
Dude's a good athlete - Al Davis is an idiot.

8. Jacksonville Jaguars - Darrius Heyward-Bey
Matt Jones!

9. Green Bay Packers - BJ Raji
Green Bay seems intent on going to the 3-4, so I suppose drafting the main component of one would be a decent idea.

10. San Francisco 49ers - Brian Orakpo
He's probably going earlier than this but I forgot that he existed.

11. Buffalo Bills - Robert Ayers
They almost had as few sacks as Cleveland last season.

12. Denver Broncos - Everette Brown
Kam Wimbley with sacks!

13. Washington Redskins - Michael Oher
They need them some tackles. Andre Smith is probably the pick though.

14. New Orleans Saints - Malcolm Jenkins
It's him or Beanie I think. I vaguely recall Jason David being on their team, so I'm going with the DB.

15. Houson Texans - Clay Matthews Jr
CMIII is slowly crawling up the "number one reason I get banned from forums list". He currently only trails Brady Quinn and Braylon Edwards.

16. San Diego Chargers - Andre Smith
I can't think of their RT's name - and that means he isn't any good since I know everything about every team in the NFL.

17. New York Jets - Ray Maleauga
I'm thinking Rex Ryan wouldn't mind the good version of Ray Lewis.

18. Denver Broncos - Josh Freeman
They might take him 12 - and they can't honestly believe Orton is a long term solution.

19. Tampa Bay Bucs - Aaron Maybin
Who cares what Tampa does, they just gave Kellen Winslow money like he's not going to retire in 2 years.

20. Detroit Lions - Eben Britton
I suppose a tackle is the way to go here, even if it's going to end up being a RT.

21. Philadelphia Eagles - Beanie Wells
I love going to mock draft sites and they posts facts like "Andy Reid hasn't drafted a 1st RD RB since the gold rush". He had Brian Westbrook you idiots. Why would he? Now Westbrook is in an assisted-living complex.

22. Minnesota Vikings - Jeremy Maclin
Falls a bit, good match with MN though.

23. New England Patriots - Darius Butler
LOTW! Book it! Get There! Another Saying! No, I'm not kidding. Bet the house if you can.

24. Atlanta Falcons - Brandon Pettigrew
Every other mock draft has him going here, so why not mine?

25. Miami Dolphins - Vontae Davis
He's gotta go in RD 1 and I can't think of anywhere else to put him. Also, I may cry if he goes to Baltimore. As much as I did when Mendenhall went to Pitt last year.

26. Baltimore Ravens - Connor Barwin
Only 3-4 edge rusher dude I could think of. He's not going to be good for 2-3 years though, so that probably precludes Ozzie from taking him.

27. Indianapolis Colts - Peria Jerry
I'm really tempted to take Kenny Britt or Hakeem Nicks.

28. Buffalo Bills - William Beatty
Hey Buffalo, if Monroe is there at 5 feel free to send 11 and 28 to Cleveland. We'll accept!

29. Cleveland Browns (via NYG)- Knoshown Moreno
Hey, it's my mock draft. I'll give them Crabtree and Knoshown if I want to.

30. Tennessee Titans - Hakeem Nicks
I'm giving them a WR every year until I am right.

31. Arizona Cardinals - Donald Brown
They'll probably wait till RD 2 to add Rashard Jennings, but whatever, I'm getting lazy at this point.

32. Pittsburgh Steelers - Max Unger
I don't know. Everyone and their mother has them going OLine here. I think the CB from Wake Forest is probably a better pick. Alphonso Butler I believe his name is.

Notes:

I hope the Browns get Sean Smith in RD2. And a Center who isn't Hank Fraley.

I hope they trade Quinn for a 1, but I don't believe the rumors because I also believe no team is stupid enough to trade a 1 for Brady Quinn.

Derek Anderson is a slightly above average QB - and that is better than Brady Quinn.

I fucking hate Brady Quinn.

Brady Quinn got knocked out by Sean Smith and no one made a big deal about it. Isn't that proof people hate him? It should.

Fuck Brady Quinn.

Knoshawn is the next great RB.

Tyson Jackson is the next Richard Seymour.

Maclin will make all his money in the return game the first 3 years.

I think Matt Stafford will be really good.

Random thoughts while watching some thinking the Philly airport was some of the most ridiculous looking girls in America...

I'm currently reading IV, by Chuck Klosterman. It's fucking awesome/hilarious/true. I need to read more of him.

I've lasted a week with no booze/drugs - but I think I've consumed 410% more calories daily during that time.

I'm leaving my apartment finally, and will be in a new place by June 1. I'm quite excited about moving closer to work and closing the Fairhaven/New Bedford chapter of my life.

Starting Monday I'm going to start gymming it - fanatically. One of the places I'm looking at is on the beach. Literally, on the beach. I want to be able to go to American Eagle and buy an overpriced flower-printed bathing suit and rock it everyday.

Crap these girls are hot.

I hope Scott Lewis pitches well tonight.

I haven't slept for months.

Screw it, I'm going to the gym fanatically just so I can hang out at the Philadelphia airport.

-------
random funny lines from past (random time frame)
-------
(driving sinko home: blvd of broken dreams is on radio)
Sinko: Hey Jimbo, if I had to pick a song that described you - I'd pick this one.
Jimbo: .........


wbone1085: im gonna make a match.com account
JimMorton52: why? you find girls easy, you just can't make them not hate you after 2 dates.
wbone1085: ya i need to be like u
JimMorton52: sure about that?
wbone1085: hahahaha your right.


Marky: Want to go out tonight?
Jimbo: Where?
Marky: Prov.
Jimbo: Hhahahahahahaha. Club Ultra? Club...hell, I can't even think of the names of those 18+ places.
Marky: I need a wingman.
Jimbo: I'm retired.
Marky: C'mon we need to hang out with girls.
Jimbo: Yes, but I haven't even tried for a girl in months and my first go at it isn't going to be pretending to like someone so you can have sex for two days then have a new person who doesn't want you alive.
Marky: You might get some.
Jimbo: I'm almost 26. In my life I'm probably a .090 hitter in the random girl department. That era is over.
Marky: All that means is your gonna focus on people you might actually like someday...
Jimbo: That's the idea. Find someone who can hold a conversation and go from there.
Marky: But they'll eventually tell you no and then you will be all heart broken.
Jimbo: Thanks.....friend?

Soumya the Indian Girl: Do you think we can clean this?
Jimbo: Ask the janitor.
Soumya the Indian Girl: Ok.
*10 Minutes Later*
Soumya: You didn't clean it.
Jim: I'm not going to...ask the janitor.
*10 Minutes Later*
Soumya: I brought a mop - can you clean it?
Jim: .........................
Soumya: I don't want there to be a mess.
Jim: Then don't spill your coffee.
Soumya: You are so funny!
Jim: ..................

So whatever the last version of AIM is automatically logs all conversations.

I was doing some basic maintenance and read some of the conversations I start at 1:30 in the morning.

Ex: jimmorton52: yoursa ptrtty




I suppose the deletion of facebook, myspace, and all internet communication is for the best.

I'll have interweb again in 3-5 business days. Wahoooooo.

I've lost 20 lbs since October and I look the same. Boo.

UC Berkley I think is offering a Starcraft class. Those guys are probably way betterer than me.

I'm not cutting my hair till 2010. I was planning on trying to do it anyway, but Nate and Marky said no way I could even last till my birthday.

I have to show up at work this weekend. What garbage is that?

Yay tax return money. Also, I find it hardly fair that I only worked from May on last year and got more money back than usual. And I don't think I lied or anything.

Please don't audit me Taxman.

Boo first/last/security on new apartments. They should see my charming smile and warm exterior and let me live for free.

Well since I have no Xbox and internet I'm going to finish reading On the Origins of War by your boy Donald Keegan. Well, I think it's Keegan...but I'm not going to double check.

Contrary to some reports, I am indeed still alive. I've gone out once in the last two months - and I abandoned Matt Menard at the Ice Chest when I realized I was at the Ice Chest...again. Sorry Matt.

I work at the rope factory again. I think people know this, but who knows what I tell people, I don't really keep track.

On second thought, I went out a couple times with Manny Moss when he was down for the first week of December. Those days were fun. I have not had fun since then.

I quit drugs and alcohol for New Years, and my "friends" are making it very difficult on me. It's been 4 days. I want to drink.

Artie Lange wrote a good book.

I spent Christmas in North Carolina. That was cool. Coming home after hours of plane delays/cancellations to an ice storm and an unplowed road was not quite as super.

I have a pair of white Air Force 1's now. I would try to dunk a basketball, but even with cool shoes I am still the whitest kid on the planet - so I'm not sure I could dunk a basketball.

Maybe I won't blow layups now.

Happy Birthday C.

Pandora Radio is the greatest invention ever, and basically gets me through the 4-10pm time frame.

Work sucks when Nate's email doesn't work. Complaining about everything is a lot more fun when someone else hates people in funnier ways than I do.

I've been promised a move to the night shift, which will complete my transformation into that funny kid you kinda/sorta remember but don't really know why. Of course I realize the why is my awesomeness.

I've been power searching for a new apartment locale, since I've heard some rumors my "landlord" wants to sell the house. The sale of this house would not help me with my payment by means of things other than cash.

Kenny is an idiot. Kid drags me back into Survivor then acts like an idiot once they get down to 7 people.

I wish I was as rich as I was when I was 21-23. I'm pretty poor by those standards. Stupid credit cards.

I want to thank my parents for getting me a "Music Hits: 2001 Edition". Now whenever I feel nostalgic, I can play the Baja Men, Evan and Jaron, Vitamin C, Nine Days, 3LW, and a plethora of others. Thanks!

I have to be in three places on Jan 24th. That should be a tiresome day. Especially considering they're in three different states.

I've woken up at 1:36 ON THE DOT the last 5 days. I'm seriously considering waiting up that late and seeing if a vampirous mummy runs through the house or something. It's getting ridiculous.

Ricky Martin is also on the music cd, but it's not the William Hung song or the Vida Loca one. It's one I've never heard of, so I'm not sure if it actually as the merits to be on a "Hits" cd.

I remembered Will Hung's name?

I'm going to Indians Opening Day. Cliff Lee vs Roy Halladay - decent matchup.

Scrubs is on tomorrow!!!!!!!

I had half a story written and now I can't find it - and my brain is so fried I don't even know what I was writing about.

I'm quitting drugs and alcohol.

Last Friday started out as any other day. I woke up around 5:30 and then stumbled into the bathroom to start the usual morning routine. After about an hour of zombie-walking around the apartment, I finally make it outside.

Phat flat tire.

After spending an in ordinarily long time putting on the spare, I'm off to work. Naturally, today is the first time in four months that my boss decides to come in early, and is pulling into the parking lot the same times as me.

Boss: You're coming in now?
Jimbo: (I hate stupid questions.) Uh..ya. I had a flat tire and I had to throw a spare on.
Boss: We really can't have you be late here, Jim.
Jimbo: Yea, I know. I just couldn't drive here with 3 tires.
Boss: Well, we hired you on the assumption that you had reliable transportation.
Jimbo: (Oh yea! That time I overslept by three hours I said I had truck trouble.) Oh, ya. Well this wasn't really anything I could control. I just had a flat tire. It happens, I guess.
Boss: We need to make sure this doesn't happen again.
Jimbo: (Slightly exasperated voice) Ok, I'll be more careful to not drive over nails.
Boss: (Raised eyebrows)

So as you can tell, I was in leave me alone mode much of the day.

The thing is - the guy who works near me at work is pretty much a thirteen year old girl at a slumber party. Just doesn't know how to shut up. Incessant rambling is his specialty.

Co-Dude: Having fun?!
Jimbo: .....yup.
Co-Dude: Taking lunch at 12:30?!
Jimbo: Yup.
Co-Dude: See the baseball game last night?!
Jimbo: .....yup.
Co-Dude: Want to grab lunch together?!?!
Jimbo: .....yup. Wait, what?
Co-Dude: How's Subway?
Jimbo: Uh, it's Subway.
Co-Dude: I've never had it.
Jimbo: How have you never ate at Subway?
Co-Dude: So we're going to Subway?
Jimbo: ...........

So after eight hours of that garbage I drive home only to walk into my roommate and his girlfriend talking with some financial planner guy. Normally, this isn't something that would get on my nerves - but after the day I had I didn't want to come home to listen to questions about whether or not they're thinking of getting married and if they were smokers or not. (The answers should have been "no and no" - but I get subjected to "Well, ya know, maybe one day, I mean, um")

At some point the third roommate comes home and walks into my room to chill. While explaining to him that many different ways I wanted to snuff the life out of myself I start failing my arms wildly to help my words gain emotion.

Bad idea.

I had my sunglasses resting on my forehead, and the second my hand touched them they snapped in three. RIP Prescription Sunglasses.

Seriously, how is that even possible? One small love tap and they break? Fuck.

At this point the douchebag starts a cackle-fest which forces me to angry walk around the corner to the packy to purchase the biggest bottle I can with a price tag of twenty bucks.

The lucky winner was this plastic bottle of whiskey. I believe it was called something creative like “Canadian Whiskey”. It was also in the form of a milk carton.

So I head back to the apartment, and walk through the door lugging the brown plastic bag like all the high quality individuals who live in New Bedford. As I walk in I hear one of the assholes say, “Oh! Here he is!”

I then get confronted by Principal Pyramid Scheme telling me all the ways he can make my bills disappear. I am in no mood for this.

Cock: Every thought of a way to get out of debt?
Jimbo: Pay my bills?
Bag: Well….yea. But you could also listen to my presentation and come up with some new ideas on how to save.
Jimbo: I could probably not drink.
Tool: Well, everyone likes to drink a few every now and then.
Jimbo: I’m a borderline alcoholic.
Box: ………
--Jimbo opens brown bag—
Douche: Wow.
Jimbo: Yea, I buy milk in the form of whiskey.
*Enter giggling laughter from the roommates*
Clown: Heh…heh…..well, here’s my card – if you ever want help with your bills, let me know.
Jimbo: drinkdrinkdrinkdrink

In a state of incredible, Nate Goldrick-esque anger/annoyance – I decide that power drinking is the best course of actions.

Idiot.

Well, obviously about ¼ of a gallon in (quart? I don’t remember my units of measure too well) I’m pretty toast since I don’t eat after 4pm anymore, and then I decide it’s a positively great idea to follow both roommates to their favorite bar, JT’s.

Now, I’ve never been to JT’s – but they talk about it all the time and I was under the impression that I was going to walk into the greatest drinking establishment in the history of places that allow drinking.

Nope.

Typical New Bedford Bar.

So I walk in, immediately look for the “hottest bartender of all-time”, and become incredibly disappointed. I know all bartenders are hot – mainly because I’m trashed when I’m looking at them, but these guys made this chick seem like a young Eliza Dushku – and this chick was an old Dakota Fanning. FBI – please don’t arrest me.

So now I’m insanely annoyed, drunk, and disappointed – not a terribly productive combo. I sit at the bar, order a beer, and fixate myself on the Brewers-Phillies NLDS game so I can watch CC suck for another team come playoff time.

After a couple beers, Ryan walks in, asks me to move over so he can sit closer to his man-crushes, then goes on a long winded diatribe about why life isn’t fair and everyone is out to get him. Since I’m in no mood for this bullshit, I interrupt.

Jimbo: Ryan.
Ryan: What.
Jimbo: Didn’t you run over someone once but got off because they were supposedly zooted out on heroine?
Ryan: Well, I didn’t “get off”. They legitimately were out of their mind.
Jimbo: YOU RAN OVER SOMEBODY AND ARE NOT IN JAIL. YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO BITCH ABOUT KARMA, LIFE, BAD LUCK, AND/OR ANYTHNG ELSE. YOU ARE THE LUCKIEST PERSON IN EXSISTENCE.
Ryan: Dude, so I get one good break.
Chick next to us: Oh, shut up Ryan. All you’re going to do is bitch for half an hour, have a few drinks, then start talking about how you’re going to put in offers for bars so you can run one the “way it’s supposed to be run”
Ryan: ……….
Jimbo: I’ve only been more in love once….

*cue Scrubs-style flashback*

Scene: Jake’s house, NFL Draft on TV, big cookout the day after his wedding with all the important wedding guests scattered amongst the living room.

Roger Goodell: With the 6th pick in the 2008 NFL Draft, the New York Jets select, from Ohio State, Outside Linebacker Vernon Gholston.

Random Girl from the Chick Side of Family: Man, I don’t like that pick. He’s had one decent season, they’ve got Calvin Pace, and I don’t think he’s going to be a fit with Mangini’s style of defense.
Jimbo: ……………….
Nate: Jimbo, you’re staring.
Jimbo: I want to make sweet love to her for a long enough time for her to consider me Captain Stud Pants.
Nate: Hahahahah - What? Why.
Jimbo: She knows footbally things.
Chris Berman: Vernon “Some gay ass nickname” Gholston everyone!
Chick: God, I hate Chris Berman.
Jimbo: Holy shit.
Nate: What? Hating some announcer on TV is all it takes to make you fall for someone? And beer?
--I look over (eyebrows raises)--
Nate: Dumb question, huh?

Ok, back to reality.

Jimbo: I can’t believe you actually said that.
Girl: Why? All he does is talk – he’s basically the worst kid ever.
Jimbo: I love you.
Girl: What?
Jimbo: I love you.
Girl: Does this love mean you’re going to buy me a drink?
Jimbo: Love has its limits.
Girl: …….are you serious?
Jimbo: Well, mine does.
Girl: Wow.
Jimbo: Oh relax, I’m kidding.
Girl: Hahah, you’re so funny!
Jimbo: …………(motherfucker).

At that point I naturally assumed that I made another friend who would not be keen on felating me later on in the night, so I get her a drink then start putting all my energy into not being hammered so Dakota Fanning won’t cut me off. Eventually (Hey look, the Phillies won!) the bar wench seems a little reticent of giving me another beer, so I assure her it will be my last then turn to the Menards.

Well, the Menards aren’t there.

Woah.

Jimbo: What the…..
Ryan: ….and that’s why I decided to start Brett Favre.
Jimbo: …….huh?
Ryan: Dude – I just spent like 15 minutes explaining my fantasy team.
Jimbo: Brett Favre sucks.
Ryan: Finish your beer, you’ve had like seventeen kid.
Jimbo: Sweet.
Ryan: Alright, I’m going to go. Later.
Jimbo: Peace.

3….2….1….

Amazingly, I am now at some random dive bar with no ride home. Typical Me.

Jimbo: Shit.
Girl: What’s wrong?
Jimbo: Oh wow, you’re still here?
Girl: Yea, I was playing pool for awhile – sorry.
Jimbo (secretly glad I didn’t just ignore her for an hour): Oh, that’s cool. I was just mad the kids I came with left without me; I’m probably going to have to walk home. I boo that.
Girl: Hahahaha, so funny! (Jim: …..) Don’t worry, let’s get some more drinks then I’ll bring you back.

Now it’s basically an episode of the Twilight Zone for me. For the most part, my pick-up technique resembles Steve Carell the first time he goes out to 8 dollar beer night with the Smart Tech guys (“I need to find the drunk people”). Tonight it seems my sloshed-ness is making me funnier and more attractive, just like I always thought it did! She finishes her drink and we head to her car.

Girl: Do you smoke?

Seeing as I don’t, I go with the obvious answer.

Jimbo: Sure.

She passes me a cigarette and I try not to cough up a lung. We sit in her car for a few, make idle chit chat, and then decide it’s time to bring me home.

I then woke up sitting in the papasan chair – completely naked except for dress socks that were pulled up as far as they could go.

Seriously. What the hell?

What happened? Why did I change my socks? Why did I take all my clothes off?

The world needs answers.

And the next day really, REALLY sucked.

I've been trying to pump out a story for awhile now - but every time I get a few paragraphs in I proofread and it seems stupid and spectularly boring.

Sorry.

I just had an hour flight with a crying baby behind me the whole time. Half an hour in the mom gave it a tickle me fucking elmo. I would rather have had the crying than the incessant "elmo love youuuuu" and "can elmo be your friennnnnnnnd"

Fuck you elmo.

I got wii again. Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.

My plane from DC to Prov got delayed two hours, the entire seating area is empty near the gate, when I began this email two older women sat down on both sides of me. I've spent the whole email being stared at by the twin cruella devilles as they ask me questions like "oh man is that a keyboard on your phone" and "oh man how'd you learn to use something like that".

I learned it by not being a 80 year old with alzheimers you saggy boobed bag of idiocy.

Now I'm not leaving till 11:04, which means I'm getting in at 1215, which means I have to pay for another days worth of parking for the 15 fucking minutes over midnite it was in the lot. Nevermind it got there at like 9pm, those 3 hours....1 day. Nevermind I'm getting it out at 1215, those 15min....1day.

I hate you world, with all, with all of my soul.

In the midst of the drunken debauchery that was Matt Ponte’s bachelor party, Josh Charpentier told me that he was going to be having a graduation party the following weekend, that there would be much alcohol, much more females, and I should come by.

I am not one to turn down that kind of invitation.

So I spend the week mastering the intricacies of spider solitaire, and once Saturday hits, I am happy to be me once more. Josh had told me it was going to start around noon, and seeing as I’ve effectively phased out the part of my psyche that wants to show up “fashionably late”, I arrive at 11:57.

As I enter the backyard, I think to myself, “Man, I hope I’m not the only kid here.” I wasn’t. I guess you could say that noon was when the cool cats would arrive, before that? Nice family breakfast. And by family, I mean every Charpentier who has ever graced Fairhaven.

In my sudden awkwardness, however, I see Dorgan and Tom hanging out on the deck starting to light up the grill. Yay. I walk over, throwing hellos and head-nods to people I don’t know, and make my way to the grill. After the pleasantries, Tom asks me if I want a beer.

Jimbo: Where is it?
T Charps: Dude, turn around.

And my head swivels to a ginormous Tupperware thing, honestly the size of a hot tub, full of ice with four kegs in it.

I love graduation parties.

After drinking four or five beers pretty quickly to get into my groove, some more kids start showing up. It’s basically a real good time, we get a game of baseball going in their field (Team Jimbo got obliterated), jump in the pool, eat lots of grilled goodness, you know, that sort of thing. However, seeing as nothing fun happens to me until I see triple, let’s fast forward to the good stuff.

After getting my keg stand on, Matt Menard and I are discussing many important things, such as boobs and bums, when Joshy comes up to us and asks if we can run to the store and pick up some red cups. Sure, no problem we say. Well, he gives us a twenty, and don’t ask me how, or why, but damnit, we bought twenty dollars worth of plastic cups.

Sorry Josh, it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Some point after we get back to mingling, what to mine eyes see? Rosamaria Carlozzi. Ahh, the freshman fantasies I had about her. She notices me, mainly due to the fact that she was our class advisor (smallest graduating class ever), and decides she wants to see how I’m doing. Great.

(Jimbo thought bubbles in parentheses)

Rosamaria: James! How are you! It’s been so long!
Jimbo: (Buhhhhhhhh.) Hi.
Rosamaria: It’s so good to see you! What’ve you been up to?
Jimbo: (You look so ridiculous.). Nothing.
Rosamaria: Do you work? You’ve graduated already, right?
Jimbo: (No.) …..yes. (Shit.)
Rosamaria: Awesome! Good job! What did you study?
Jimbo: (Fuck.) Uh, Business.
Rosamaria: Where?
Jimbo: (I can’t believe I wanted to talk to you.) Framingham State.
Rosamaria: Oh man! I’m so proud of you.
Jimbo: (Haha.) Thanks!
Rosamaria: Why don’t you tell me the truth?
Jimbo: (AHHHHHHSHITFUCK.) Huh? What do you mean?
Rosamaria: Your shirt. It says you’re probably lying, hehehe.
Jimbo: (I hate this fucking shirt.) I hate this fucking shirt.
Rosamaria (clearly affronted): WHAT?
Jimbo: Ahhhhh, ummmm, oh look its Myles.

I avoided her after that.

A few hours later I was in a state where someone could have asked me if I wanted to frolic merrily in poison oak, and I would have thought it was a grand idea. At some point, Matt taps me on the shoulder and says,

Matt Menard: Want to go to the Ice Chest?
Jimbo: Isn’t there beer here?
Matty Ice: Yea, but I want to talk to a bartender.
Jimbo: Ok, let’s go.
*Marky walks over*
Marky: What’s up guys.
Jimbo: We’re going to the Ice Chest.
Marky: That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Why?
Jim “Don’t Tell Me What To Do” Morton: ICE CHEST!

And off we went.

I don’t know exactly how we got there, but eventually I sitting on a barstool paying for beer when there’s three perfectly beautiful kegs at the place I just left. What an idiot I can be. We order our beers, Matt’s trying to get into a deep meaningful conversation with one of the beer wenches, when all of a sudden I’m the victim of a drive-by reach-around.

Jimbo: Gahhh. *Turns* Ohhhh. Hmmm. Hey Lynn.
Lynn: I though it was you!
Jimbo: You’d do that before you were sure?
Lynn: Never mind that! I haven’t seen you in forever! How long has it been?!? Last summer, right?
Jimbo: Uhhh, ya. Sometime around then.
Lynn: Why haven’t I seen you! You used to always go out!
Jimbo: Well, Matt and Mike don’t work in Fairhaven anymore, and now you work here instead of Mike’s, and no offense, but the Ice Chest doesn’t have prime rib sandwiches.
Lynn: You could come and say hi!
Jimbo: ……….
Lynn: The last time we hung out, was when? That time we - *insert dawning comprehension* - went to 6th Bristol?
Jimbo: I still can’t believe I went to that place with you.
Lynn: Well, I have to get back to work, but come find me later, we need to catch up!
*Lynn walks away*
Jimbo: Not enough alcohol yet, not enough alcohol…..
*Jim orders a stronger drink*

After Matt finally realizes that trying to flirt with a bartender on a packed Saturday night is futile, we decide to head back to the party. On the way there, my phone blows up and it’s Marky wondering where the hell we were. Apparently we were gone for about 4 hours. I did find it strange that it was dark when we left the bar, alas…

We walk back into the backyard after finding some big piles of rocks to break the seal for the umpteenth time – and find that the party has exploded. Matt abruptly stops in front of me, and after knocking him halfway over, I find out the reason.

The biggest pair of boobs I’ve ever seen. Ever. In my life. And not in a sweatshirt, but in a really small tank top. God did good there, he did.

Matt: Holy shit.
Jimbo: Indeed.
Matt: Is that…?
Jimbo: Yup.
Matt: Sucks she’s such a bitch.
Jimbo: You can’t motorboat a personality.
Matt: AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA. Did you just think of that on your own?
Jimbo: No, but that won’t stop me from talking credit.
Matt: That was great. Let’s go play flip cup.

As we walk to the table, everyone starts staring at me. Apparently at some point in the previous four hours I got punched in the face, because my face was covered in blood. Well, the portion of my face below my nose. Weird, you would think I would have noticed it, or at least Matt would have. Perhaps we were a little drunker than we thought.

Well, we ended up spending a few more hours there, mostly sitting on the deck next to the hot tub passing the tray of Jell-O shots back and forth, because hey, it’s just like Jell-O, so it won’t make you drunker. Eventually everyone starts the slow stumble to their cars, and a terrible idea, no doubt born from the not so jello-esque Jell-O, forms between my ears.

Jimbo: Hey Matt.
Matt: Yo.
Jimbo: Give me Lynn’s number.
Matt (blank shock): Are you sure?
Jimbo: Yea. I want to call her.
Matt: You’re hammered.
Jimbo: I’ve made worse decisions.
Matt: You really want to deal with her again.
Jimbo: No, but I want some boobs in my face.
Matt: I don’t know…
Jimbo: Remember that time I (long winded summary of an embarrassing Matt story where I played the role of wingman of the year).
Matt: One second..
Jimbo: Thank you, sir.

After I make it home, I do the typical drunk routine of emptying my pockets, throwing them all over the floor, pouring myself a glass of water, and lay in bed. I realize I “need” to call Lynn, so I crawl out of bed, across the floor, through the kitchen, and into the living room. I jack myself up against the couch, pull my phone out, and about 11 minutes later I finally have the correct seven digit number in, and hit the fateful send button.

I’m so stupid.

*Ring*
*Ring*
Jimbo: This is dumb. I hope she doesn’t pick up. I should hang up on her.
*Ring*
Lynn: Hello?
Jimbo: Hey Lynn.
Lynn: Who’s this?
Jimbo: Jim.
Lynn: Jim?
Jimbo: *Sigh* Bo.
Lynn: Jimbo!
Jimbo: I hate that everyone still calls me Jimbo.
Lynn: Why?
Jimbo: Girls don’t sleep with a Jimbo. Jimbo sounds like a funny kid who’s everyone’s friend.
Lynn: But you are funny!
Jimbo: ……yes.

At this point, I fell asleep, passed out, whatever. According to call log statistics, I was on the phone for another 11 minutes. I hope I had phone sex.

Ah well, now that I was sober, I realized that I was glad she didn’t come over. She’s the worst. No repercussions! First time ever! Woo!

At 6pm I got a text message, “be by in 15”.

Phat.

Just so you know.

I've started playing every night again. What am I thinking?

This place blows.