Jumpee!!! Random entry, with love

Somebody has to save this blog and it might as well be me. This is the story of how yours truly managed to dye his hair red…BY ACCIDENT!!!

 So there I was, eleven years old and sporting a high-top fade; don’t blame me, that was just the style of the time. As per usual, I was running late for the bus. Now riding the same bus my whole life with my bus driver Mr. Sealy was always hilarious. He had driven my older sister to school and had known me all my life. He was a good ol’ country boy and the shop teacher. There was the rumor that he only had one testicle as the result of being gored by bull during a rodeo event. Oh and everyday (and this will explain A LOT TO A LOT OF PEOPLE) and I do mean everyday, he would blare Slippery When Wet on his radio. Now this description of Mr. Sealy holds no bearing on the story of my red hair, but who doesn’t like hearing about a one testicled bull riding Jon Bon Jovi singing school bus driver.

Now on to me and my being late for the bus. You see, I was always a pretty boy. Already late, I didn’t have that much time to fix my hair. I had a high-top fade and it wasn’t appropriately coiffed and action needed to be taken. By this time my sister had moved out so I couldn’t steal any of her hair products, so I darted into my moms bathroom. I grabbed the first bottle that looked like it would be of some use to me. Spritzing and darting out the house in a mad dash to get my morning JBJ fix… ‘scuse me for a second’

* (furiously playing air guitar)
Shot through the heart
And you’re to blame
You give love a bad name
I play my part and you play your game
You give love a bad name
You give love a bad name*

Sorry just had to get that out of my system. Back on topic:

Spritzing and darting out the house in a mad dash to catch the bus, I gave little to no thought about my hair and what I was putting in it. I was sure that it would suffice until gym class and then I would have to redo it anyway.

Arriving at school, I go to hang out with some of my friends before homeroom. There was a bully that didn’t give me so much trouble because he knew my cousins would crush him, but he always tried to have something smart to say. So when he made a flippant comment about my hair looking like I had dipped it in kool-aid, I thought nothing of it. However, when my friend Justin informed me that, indeed, there was something a bit more colorful going on with my “do”, I thought I may need to check it out.

I sprinted to the nearest bathroom and found a mirror followed by my crew, who at this point were laughing and calling me “Malcolm”. Upon gazing at my emblazoned visage in the mirror, it was unmistakable; somehow, I had turned my hair red. Shocked and awed more than some country that’s pissed off President Bush, I quickly went into spin control. Knowing that not liking it myself would have only lent myself to more ridicule, I had to embrace the change in my appearance. I was now “Red” just as Malcolm X was before. LOL

That was a long day, but I still had no idea what had happened. I tore through the front door and called my mom at work. “Momma… I turned my hair red.” All she did was laugh. That’s my momma for you. LOL So she asked what I put in my hair. Describing the bottle that I grabbed from her counter that didn’t really have a label, I was informed that I had grabbed this:

*editors note: The original bottle did not look like this. I would have known better to grab something pink. The bottle I grabbed was white with a rubbed off white label. LOL*

When it was all said and done, it was great for my persona. I worked the whole red hair thing and continued to use Sun In for several years. Finally around the age of 14 I discontinued use and went back to my natural color. Six years later I began to shave my hair completely. So that’s the story of one man’s bout with hair coloring. Hope you enjoyed. Now back to your regularly schedule programing.

Jumpee Wednesday. . .early, and worth the wait.

This will be the last Jumpee for a while.  I just need a break to recharge the ol’ batteries.

As all great stories do, this all began with an idea: How do you embarrass a friend so that even random passerbys will recognize the awesomeness they’ve just seen?  I worked on that idea for the weeks leading up to St. Patrick’s Day.  You see, I have this friend named Patrick aka B’ster and I feel that every St. Patty’s Day is an opportunity to enjoy a wee little bit of fun with the ol’ chap. Last year was no different, but it ended up being just the start of what became the most EPIC St. Patrick’s Day EVAR (until Saturday that is).

There were brainstorming sessions with my other best friend Chris aka DUB.  You will remember Dub from such great stories as, ”Jumpee tried to break up your wedding“, or that fine adventure,  “We got lost at Kyle Field and all I got was this video” and lest we forget my favorite and why I call him DUB, “Spinning the Spinners“.  But I digress, DUB and I were looking at a way to play a nice practical joke on the third member of our little triumvirate, B’ster.  So I sat around for weeks with DUB hypothesizing on what would embarrass him the most.  I can’t even remember why this became a need, but somehow it began to border on obsession.  And then it dawned on me… I have untold amounts of photos of B’ster doing the silliest shit imaginable and it was time to unleash my plan unto the world.  We would get t-shirts made consisting of the greatest picture of all:

B’ster being kissed by two drunk and somewhat unattractive chicks from Mardis Gras.  Honestly…look at that one chick licking him…how could this not be made into a t-shirt… LOL

*Fast Forward to St. Patty’s Day…well…day*

So DUB and I head down to Fado’s Irish Pub outdoor festival with our t-shirts concealed beneath our regular shirts and waiting to ambush B’ster with our awesome joke.  But whilst we wait for that to happen, we do what people do for St. Patty’s Day…drink until you can see the Irish in everyone.  So as we are drinking I run into my twin brother Shawn aka Tyrone *fyi, not my real brother and my twin name is Jyrone…don’t ask* and my used to be favorite Aggie Jules Verne.  As you can see from this picture:

we were fucking hammered.  Hell, Tyrone looks like Jon Arbuckle from Garfield and Jules Verne is just out of her mind.   I love those two.  *I’m sure they will make another appearance this year as well*

At some point during the evening DUB and I actually gain favor with the staff that is working the gates at our end of the festival.  Apparently they were listening in on our conversations and thought we were hilarious.  Next thing I know I’m taking pictures with the staff and convincing them that I should be allowed to card people.  All of a sudden, I have official badges and am telling people that if you buy me a beer, you can cut in line.  This young lady, Vera I believe her name was, decided that I shouldn’t take bribes as it might incite a riot or two.

She was really cool and I have no idea why I was making that face.

*moment of inspiration*

Yeah…that face was totally uncalled for in this case.  Oh wait, now I remember.  Of course, I was really drunk.  I was informed that this guy with an overly manicured beard that looked too much like that guy from Backstreet Boys was hitting on my married friend DUB and told him that he, DUB, was cute and that he, overly manicured bearded guy, would like to buy DUB a beer once he got inside the festival.  I can’t remember if DUB ever got that drink, but I never let him forget that it was offered.  And I asked DUB what would he do if the guy really bought him a drink and DUB says, “I guess I’d have to let him grab my ass, right?!?”  Okay, that last part was a lie, but DUB said he didn’t have any trouble accepting a beer with no intent on putting out…LOL  Me and Tyrone kept making jokes about DUB knowing what it must be like to be a girl at the bar now.  HAHAHAHAHA

Around this time B’ster shows up…with his GIRLFRIEND!!!  Could this be anymore perfect?  No, it couldn’t.  Now we don’t have any actual documentation of the actual flashing, but here is the finished product of the t-shirts:

*will be wearing this shirt again on Saturday*

Now here is when this thing got right and out of control.  If you will remember back last year, they were out promoting a little movie called Nacho Libre.  Last St. Patty’s Day, there were all these awesome costumed street team members handing out Nacho Libre postcards.  I got my postcards, but drunk Jumpee also had to get a couple of photos:

*notice the B’ster shirt under the badges that let me work the gates*

And what’s better than Uno Luchadore….

DOS…. DOS LUCHADORES!!!!!

The evening was already bordering on EPIC, but this next story is gory yet offensive.  Now first, the portapotty situation is disgusting.  By the end of the night, they were overflowing and you kind of had to shoot a 3-point shot into the toilet and just hope to avoid the splash.  Thankfully, the alcohol had rendered me unable to care about such issues associated with continued drinking.  So here I am walking out of the portapotty and for some reason EVERYONE is looking in my direction.  Now this isn’t something that I’m unfamiliar with, but the guys jaws were dropping and the women were looking in disgust…quite the opposite reaction that I’m used to mind you.  So I turn around and see DUB wielding my camera and what do I see…but this:

That’s my friend Charlos, who throws the greatest after parties known to man, standing in front of the pedi-cab driver that hopped the fence, dropped trou and began to handle her business for ALL OF THE FADO’S TENT PARTY-GOERS TO SEE!!!  She was so…so…. so, gangsta, is the only word to come to mind.  The lines were, “too long to wait”, she said.  I’m still glad DUB was sober enough to get some pictures of the whole event as it went down.

All in all it was a great evening.  Luckily I took enough pictures as I had to go to work the next day at 4AM.  Why lucky you say…?  Well my old boss had one rule; you can be as late to work as you want on Saturdays, but you better have someone cover for you, plenty of pictures and an EPIC story…

*actual picture taken at 6am the next day*

And there was no way I would have made it into work the next day with my whole world looking this fuzzy, so I’m glad this story is as EPIC as I could have hoped.

Peafe Nation

Jumpee Wednesday

Sorry for the lateness of jumpee wednesday.  Todays entry comes from the car wash as I get ready for my evening out.  I wanted to tell one story, but felt I needed to introduce the character of Baby A first before I jumped right into the middle of our greatest tandem adventure.  So here is the story of how Baby A and Jumpee took over Polly Esther’s Austin.

Right after the turn of the millennium I was hitting my stride as a party animal of sorts.  I had finally extricated myself from my first serious relationship and was on my way to drinking my liver into an early retirement.  Now I’m sort of an eccentric music aficionado.  I love all kinds, but most of all I love something that you can move to.  A friend of mine had a party that ended up at Polly Esther’s and I fell in love.  There was a crazy door girl, an accessible DJ AND A STAGE WHERE I COULD DANCE.  I don’t know if you realize this fact about me, but my ego is bigger than whatever room you are currently residing in right now.  So to be seen by the whole club as I did my “thang” was the biggest draw to this club for me.

Since Polly’s is no longer standing (fuck Vicci), I’ll describe it for you.  It had two stages with sort of a stair stepping quality.  There were three steps to walk up to the stages *this is where THE SNIPER was born* and two more raised corner squares.  The main dance floor, which consisted of flashing color squares, was roughly two-feet below the stage.  This place was 70′s gold and I loved every bit of it.  They played several genres of music and it was the only club that stayed open until 4am.

Over the years I begin to entrench myself with everyone that worked there.  The bouncers were called, The Peace Patrol, and they were all muscle bound.  I knew everyone and over the years my $200 tabs became less and less.  Eventually I didn’t have to pay for anything and when I walked into the club it was like I was in the mob.  Everyone would hug me and come shake me and my crews hands.  The DJ would even announce when I got there and if I showed up after midnight would say, “Nice of you to show up Sterling.”  I loved that they had karaoke in the back area.  This place had it all. 

*these are all facts that can easily be verified DoL*

ENTER MY BROTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER

I owned that club, but one day while I was dancing my ass off in the EXACT MIDDLE of the stage a little white guy kept getting in my way.  He too wanted the middle of the stage.  More surprising than that was the fact that he could actually dance AS WELL AS ME.  It was an outrage.  He dressed as well as me, he could dance as well as me and we even had the exact metallic chain necklace.  Once we realized that if we worked together we could get even more women, Baby A and I were inseparable.  He was the ying to my yang…or is that yang to my ying.  Either way, with our tandem dance moves *I always contend that having back up dancers makes you way cooler…look at New Edition* made us even more legendary.  We had drinks delivered to us on the dance floor.  We partied with the bar staff after hours.  It was epic.

But what really let me know how awesome it was to run a club was on Baby A’s 30th birthday.  You see Baby A is 5 years older than me.  And of course for his birthday we would go to our favorite place and both get just plastered for free.  Now Baby A is about 5’5″, but he was recon in Dessert Storm and was undefeated wrestler in high school.  Apparently he was legen…wait for it…dary.   Well on his 30th birthday this drunk college kid decided he would dance directly behind Baby A as the stage was a little crowded.  The kid kept bumping into Baby A.  All of a sudden I see Baby A turn around and tell the guy to give him some room…  The guy pushes Baby A off the stage.

*for legal purposes, the following never happened and is completely made up*

I don’t think I’ve ever hit someone as hard as I hit this kid.  People who saw the punch say that it looked like it was in slow motion.  I was probably hoping someone would get a picture of it.  Anyway, I lay out the first guy, but I suddenly realize that this guy had friends…big drunk college frat guy friends.  Now I don’t like to be punch in or about the face as that’s how I make my money PLUS I bruise easily, so I do the smart thing and hop off the stage to better gauge my adversaries.  On my way off the stage I see this little flash of angry man fly by me as he hops back onto the stage.  Baby A has fought his way through the crowd and grabs the kid that I knocked out and starts trying to plant his head through the stage. 

At this point I notice frat guys friend pulling back ready to hit Baby A.  I hop back up on stage…looking rather dashing in my steel toed black and white wing tips… and punch the hugest guy in the side of the head.  He falls over and I feel someone from behind grab me.  Then in a blur I see all of the Peace Patrol surround all of us and they start trying to take us off stage.  At this point, like I’m a celebrity, I start yelling, “Let me go, do you know who I am…I’m *Jumpee*.”

*it has been verified that I actually said, do you know who I am…LOL* 

The head of security comes over and informs the Peace Patrol to let me and Baby A go and to toss all of the college kids.  That’s when I started laughing in the frat guys faces…   Funny epilogue to that story.  The frat guys wanted some more…as they just had their asses handed to them by a short white guy and black guy wearing black and white wing tips (I mean, come on…they had to feel horrible right… ).  They waited outside and one of the Peace Patrol told us to go outside.  The head of security said, “If you wanna do this, we can go whoop their asses for you.”  I thought better of it and told everyone to head back into the club and let’s all just finish partying and that I was buying a round.  Baby A and I spent the rest of the night laughing at our other friends that ran to get security instead of helping out….buncha pansies. 

And that’s the one and only fight that I’ve been in as an adult.

Peafe Nation

Jumpee Wednesday (we’re not counting weeks anymore)

I thought since today was a “holiday” *I can barely type that without exposing my insides to the world*, I would take a break from the general theme of Jumpee Wednesdays and bring you a blog more apropos to the day.  This is a little something I’d been working on with a lawyer friend of mine before he passed away.  You might have heard of him…A Mr. Johnny Cochran.  I contend that the Walt Disney company is at the root of the problem of divorce in this country.  So here is a little something I like to call….

Disney gave women unrealistic expectations about love.

This is my general thesis.  I intend to prove that we should file a class action lawsuit against those smarmy bastards.  How dare they lead me to believe that an average fellow can get “THE PRINCESS”.  Hell, once they even let “THE BEAST”, with all his money, get the girl.  Hell, we all know Belle was just a gold digger trying to marry rich anyway.  These “fairy tales” about living “happily ever after” are falsehoods that can no longer be ignored.  We as a society must bring down these purveyors of smut.  I contend that Walt Disney movies are obscene and should be removed; nay banished from our lexicon.

How dare they contend that I have to “wait” that long to be with a woman as they did in Snow White.  Hell, I’d have just called up her sister.  But now women want me to chase them and once I catch them, THEY STILL WANT ME TO BE PRINCE CHARMING.  That’s just…that’s just… unrealistic.  And look at the case of Cinderella.  Now I’m supposed to go door to door looking for a woman.  Sheesh.  If I’m a prince, you sure as hell better come looking for me sweet cheeks otherwise someone is going to be SOL and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me.  I’m the prince.

I contend that they only made one good movie…The Little Mermaid.  This was the only time when the woman was willing to change for the man.  *sigh*  And what man doesn’t want to just leave his wife’s family behind never to see again.  Those people are always crazy anyway.

Big shout out to my muse Natty Lou

Peafe Nation and Happy Valentines Day

*ugh, I just threw up a little in my mouth*

Jumpee Wednesday (Week Whatever)

When I was in college I joined a little organization called Student Online Services.  In that organization I met two of my greatest friends that I’m still friends with today.  One of these gentlemen was my good friend Hannibal aka H.  H is a great guy and one of the nicest that you’ll ever meet.  He and I became fast friends thanks to another of our mutual friends Flashtek.  Flashtek introduced me to SOS as a way to get me some real world experience doing networking and cabling campus buildings etc.  This sounded like something I would like to do, so we decided I would check it out.  I was invited by Flashtek to a gathering at Pizza Hut where he would introduce me to everyone.  I still remember his words to this day…

*queue dream sequence*

Flashtek: “Dude, you can’t just go around making fun of everyone when we get there.”

Jumpee:  “What do you mean?  I don’t really make fun……*laughs out loud* Sorry, I couldn’t keep a straight face…  Why can’t I just be myself? “

Flashtek:  “First, most people don’t like you and second these people are nerds and they’re sensitive.  They aren’t quite as well adjusted and cool as us.”

Jumpee:  “US!!!  You mean me!!!”

Flashtek:  “See, that’s what you can’t do.  I can take it, but they don’t know ANYONE like you.  Just try not to get kicked out.”

Jumpee: “Fine, I’ll tone it down, but if anyone has on a set of Spock ears, I’m pointing and laughing… *lol*”

So we get to Pizza Hut and everyone is already there.  Somehow I’m placed at the very center of the table as apparently this was a get to know “me” lunch where they would decide if I could fit in with this group.  I was pleasantly surprised as not everyone looked as uptight as Flashtek had described, but there were still some pretty nerdy looking people there.  One of which was David Sebestia, MY NEMESIS!!!!  *shakes angry fist*

*clears throat*

Sorry about that, but I might get around to telling more DS stories later and you will understand that he became the bane of my existence…  but as always, I digress.

Here I am, a fresh faced 18 yr old hanging with all of these older people ranging in age from 19 to mid 40s.  We were all just sitting around shooting the shit until DS opens his mouth and tries to tell a joke.  Now this was right around the time Mike Tyson was biting off people’s ears, and there were plenty of funny jokes that could have been told.  However DS decided to tell this one….”Why did Mike Tyson bite Evander Holyfield’s ear?  Because he thought it was an ear of corn…”

*utter silence*

*insane maniacal laughter comes out of nowhere*

 Everyone looks over to see where the laughter is coming from…everyone but me.  Why wasn’t I looking?  Well I was too busy rolling around on the ground, as I had fallen from my chair, laughing hysterically at what I had just heard.  Everyone thought me to be a little crazy.  I caught a glimpse of Flashtek looking on in horrid disbelief.  I saw the table of Sherrifs deputies looking over to see what was happening, but I didn’t care.  What I had heard was too funny to ignore?

 After several seconds, maybe minutes, I composed myself and returned to my seat.  Then the question came from H that would seal our friendship in laughter for years to come.  “Why the hell were you laughing?  That joke wasn’t funny in the least.”  Everyone was on the edge of their seats awaiting what would be the most important words that I would speak for years to come…

My answer: “I wasn’t laughing at the joke…. I was laughing at the silence that followed.”  We were almost kicked out of Pizza Hut that day as all you could here after my last statement was laughing.  There was so much laughing.  Some mimicked my falling out of the chair.  Some spit soda all over their neighbor.  Some people cried.  But everyone thoroughly enjoyed my hilarious nature except one person… David Sebestia. *shakes angry fist*  He just sat there…trying to fathom why the new guy had everyone laughing at him.

And that, my friends is the story how I met my best friend Hannibal.  Maybe one day I’ll tell you about my failed coup d’etat of SOS.

***********
(I’m so glad you’re back, my pretty Jumpee!)

Jumpee Guest Blog Week 6

Snippy Note:  My apologies for the tardiness of this entry.  Jumpee did, indeed, send it to me in time, but some of us have business and stuff to conduct, and didn’t have time to mess with things like blogs today.  Enjoy. . .

Edited to add:  And, it didn’t copy and paste right, so it looks all funky but being as it’s 3am and I have a big day ahead of me tomorrow, I’m gonna go ahead and call this not important enough to deal with right now.  More apologies.

*************************************

In a time before there was time, I was a different person.  Truthfully I was mostly
who I am today, but the decisions I made were not tempered with the age and
experience that I have acquired since.  I was, to put it bluntly, an asshole.  But
enough about me, this is story is about a couple that lives happily ever in spite of
a plot to destroy their engagement.  Who, might you ask, was behind this nefarious
plot?  Why, you’re good friend Jumpee….

*audible gasp from the audience*

Maybe I should begin with my second favorite book of all time: Bring Me The Head
of Prince Charming. My favorite book of course being: The Monstor at the
End of This Book…  That Grover…  He just didn’t want me to turn the page
again, but I wouldn’t listen.  I was so precocious and…wait, what…oh yeah.  So
in BMtHoPC,  the demon Azzie Elbub tries to prove that the whole happily
ever after fairy tale is a myth.  He sets in motion a sleeping beauty fairy tale
with all of the pieces built and rigged by him a la Frankenstein.  Azzie was
determined to prove the myth a failure, yet fails miserably. In him, however, I had
my muse.

My best friend is Chris.  As long as I’d known him, he was engaged to Erin.  However
as they got closer to the date of their impending nuptials, I was seeing less and
less of my wingman, my com padre, my best friend.  During those days I was consumed
with the power of being a local club celebrity at Polly Esthers.  You think I’m
cocky now….LOL  So I thought if I made my case, my best friend would realize the
mistake of getting married and come to his senses.  Together we could have ruled the
Austin club scene.  Sadly *at the time* this was not the case.  Chris had decided to
get maried at the young age of 24 and RUIN all of MY partying.  Then I remembered
Azzie.

*maniacal laughter, fade to black and director shouts CUT*

All I needed was a plan.  I had to break up this senseless marriage and return my
best friend to his rightful spot along side me at the bars picking up random women.
The plan I settled on was simple.   How could a woman love a man that would openly
lie to her?  *experience has since taught me that this is a common occurrence..
LOL*  But how to do it…?

Like many couples, Chris and Erin had a few wedding registries around town.  There
were the normal housewares and the such on the list, but nothing his guy friends
would get him.  So I got all of our friends together and said we should get Chris
something from HIS friends like a xbox.  Our mutual friends were all for it, so now
my plan was in motion.  Chris and I worked together and one day as we were goofing
off at work playing Quake, I informed him that I wasn’t going to get him any of
that…. I believe the words I used at the time were, “punk ass shit from that
registry that I know you don’t want”.  I told him that we would buy him a xbox, xbox
Live and some games….all he had to do was go create a *quotation fingers*
SECRET*quotation fingers* registry that Erin didn’t know about and
we would be happy to purchase these items for his wedding.  The next day at
lunch, the registry was uploaded onto Target.com.  LOL

Now here is where it gets funny.  Fast forward until about a month away from the
wedding.  Chris is at his parents house with his wife-to-be cooking dinner.
Everything is going fine until Erin’s phone rings.  Chris at the time thinks nothing
of it and continues cooking as Miss Erin goes into the computer room.  He couldn’t
see what was going on, but then Erin calls for Chris’ mom to come look at something.
HAHAHAHAHAHA  Chris stays in the kitchen minding his own business and then he hears
the words, “Hey Chris, do you know anything about a registry for us on Target.com?”
*I didn’t mean for him to lie to his mom too…*  Now even I would have had to fess
up to my mom, but Chris stayed strong.  *idiot…LOL*  “No ma’am”, he says.  It had
their wedding date, both of their names and all of these XBOX games.  Erin and his
mom both come into the kitchen and Chris is trapped.  Finally he confesses that
JUMPEE made him do it.  I think his ears are still ringing from that tongue lashing

*I still can’t believe he sold me out…  that’s why the mafia is falling apart now;
no loyalty.  sheesh*

Apparently this still wasn’t enough to get Erin and Chris to break up and I’m
thankful for that every day.

*takes a shot at softening the blow of how much of a dick he used to be by including
pictures of babies….LOL*

Because without their marriage Erin, Chris and I wouldn’t be such great friends
today and I wouldn’t have the most beautiful niece in the world…

Kaleigh McKenzie

Jumpee Wednesday Week 5

Part 1: The Season 

The year, 2004. The sport, beer league softball. The location, Austin, Tx.

I don’t have a clever opening for this story because in this case no hyperbole is needed.  Finally I get to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  Extensive research was done to use the appropriate PC terms whenever possible.

It was the spring session of the Austin Municipal Softball D-League.  The D-League is also known as beer league due to the abundance of guts stretching over the waistlines of the players in this particular league grouping.  It’s where family men escape their families for a couple hours a week in order to drink a few bottles of beer and get in some of that oh so special male bonding.  It is a Shangri-La of sorts for them.  However that year would be different. That year would be special.  It would be the year they would be placed in: THE ALTERNATIVE LIFESTYLE SOFTBALL LEAGUE.

I guess a little background is in order.  My boss and several of my c0-workers love to play softball.  They’ve had a team for years and enjoy it a little more than they should.   Well this particular year there were a lot of Chicago Cubs fans on the team.  They had gotten together and decided that year the team name would be the “Cubbies”.  Now this to them meant an affiliation to their favorite team, but to others it meant something TOTALLY different.

Over the years I would always go watch them play because we would always have a cookout before games and drink a couple of beers.  We would take pictures with the opposing teams and it was generally a good time. However this year would be a little different. Now I’m from the Seinfeld School when dealing with homosexuals…”Not that there’s anything wrong with that”, but I’m only one man that loves to laugh at hilarious situations.  When you put a lot of gay guys together with a bunch of red meat eating “Real” Texans, sadly the outcome is generally something that ends up in a hate crime.  It was apparent after the very first game that something was up with the other teams.  The guys that my co-workers played were clearly gay.  Flaming is what I believe the appropriate term is for their behavior.

This was truly funny.  The gay guys were awesome. The manly, “tops” were playing and the more girly “bottoms” were sitting in the stands…heckling the other team.  That’s what the fans did.  We would all heckle each other, the players, the fans, the umps, everyone. However, I didn’t quite know what to say.  *As you should have figured out by now, I was our teams lead heckler* I didn’t want to offend anyone, so I sat quietly and watched the games.  The other teams did the opposite.  They would shout the most outrageous things at our players.  “Hey, you have a really nice ass there number 22.”  “I hope he can handle other long things as good as he can handle that bat.”  “You can see he’s already good at handling big balls.”  I’m sure you get the idea at this point. LOL

Well after the first game of the season I decided to do some research and see what was up with this league that my boss’ team was placed.  I found out that the City Manager had decided to put the Alternative Lifestyle softball teams all in the same league so they wouldn’t have to deal with redneck assholes.  Well, I thought to myself, that’s a fine enough idea *cough*segregation*cough*.  But my boss’ team would fall more into the dumb redneck category on all accounts, so why were they placed in this league.  Here is the list of the teams that were placed in the league: Big Bad Woofs, AssAsians(at first look it read assassins, but it was Ass Asians…LOL), Southern Stars (LOL), Bat Boys and the Cubbies. After researching the etymology of the word with an emphasis on gay slang, I came across something so glorious that I still make mention of it every time I see any of the players on our company team.  In that lifestyle, a “Cubby” is a small hairless gay man, generally a bottom. LMFAO.  The “Bear” is a large hairy gentleman that was generally a top.  They thought my boss’s team was gay…

*breathe….breathe….too funny….can’t catch my breath*

I brought my findings directly to my boss and the other players that were on our company team.  They couldn’t believe it.  Maybe they just didn’t want to believe.  But sure enough the next team they played had a heavy gay contingent.  This time though, some of the wives and girlfriends showed up to “defend” their men.  I might not have been able to heckle the gay guys, but thanks to a nice little double standard, the women could say whatever they wanted.  The funniest one was my friend Ben’s girlfriend at the time, now his wife.  She was none too happy that the gay guys really liked her husband.  I’d never seen such a tiny demure young lady scream such nasty things.  The ref had to warn her that he would throw her out of the park if she continued at one point.  She said something about, “He doesn’t smoke pole.” and “His ass is exit only.” LOL Of course I was in heaven as this was the greatest thing I had ever seen in person.  They played the rest of the season without incident. The Bat Boys won the season as they were a serious team that was pissed to even be in the “beer” league.  That in and of itself would be a great story, but this wouldn’t be much of a Jumpee story to end like that now would it.

Part 2: 1300AM The Zone

Somehow word got out of the “Gay” League.  There is a local radio station 1300 The Zone and their morning show guy, Bucky, talks mad trash to everyone.  Well when he heard there was a “Gay” League he decided that there is no way a group of his listeners could lose to the champion Bat Boys.  Well, the Bat Boys Manager called in…I’m going to stop right here for a second.  The Bat Boys are a traveling softball team.  They play in tournaments all around the state and country and they should never have been in the beer league. This is why that whole putting the “gays” together was wrong because this team kicked ass (pun not intended).  Anyway.  The Bat Boys called up to 1300 and told Bucky that if he could put together a team that the Bat Boys would play them and that…and I quote, “Were already well versed in kicking the asses of straight guys on the softball field.” Hmmmm….could you think of any team that they may have been talking about… You’re right if you guessed the CUBBIES….LOL I heard all of this on the way to work and when I walked into work everyone was crowded around the radio listening and praying no one would call them out on being the “straight” guys that lost to the “gay” guys. Bucky actually implored someone from the team to call.  I wanted to call so badly, but everyone was so embarrassed that I felt sorry and didn’t call into the show.

For weeks afterwards Bucky hyped up the match up between his team and the Bat Boys.  Everyday he would ask for the straight team that lost to call into the show, but none of us ever did. I laughed at my co-workers and boss everyday mocking them that they’d be outed by someone.  But then something awesome happened…the Bat Boys ABSO*FUCK*LUTELY MURDERED Bucky’s team.  It wasn’t even close.   They got twenty run ruled.  Eventually there was a rematch and it went about the same.  So now the Cubbies weren’t the only straight guys to take it from the Bat Boys.  And that my friend’s is the time my boss accidentally joined an Alternative Lifestyle Softball League.  LOL I hope you enjoyed.

FORECLOSURE (Jumpee Week 4)

“The worm turned that day…and right there on its belly read the word FORECLOSURE” ~~ Magnus Macabre [an excerpt from Til The Day We Die: The Beginning of the End of Rock]

Those are the words, they say, that began it all. Here we stand ten years down the road and FORECLOSURE (always meant to be capitalized) is still setting attendance records that will never be matched. I was lucky enough to catch up to the band on one of their favorite stops. To quote the band “Austin motherfucking Texas baby”.

Everyone knows their story. Four small town kids that became legends. Magnus Macabre, Dram Atic, Johnny “Gimme Dat” Doe and last but not least the most famous lead singer to grace our five senses, STELLA. Together they form Voltro…I mean FORECLOSURE. What follows are several rare pictures from one of their more intimate shows <venue name withheld as fans have been known to rip up the carpet and steal chairs or anything else from anywhere FORECLOSURE performs.>

(L-R: Magnus, Stella, and John “Gimme Dat” Doe)

(L-R: Magnus and Stella handling the bass duties)

(L-R: Stella and [a rare photo] Dram Atic)

The Crowd Was WILD

That was my time with the greatest band of all time… FORECLOSURE

I Should Have Gone Into Politics (Jumpee Week 3)

High school was fun for me.  Well, the part after I moved back from Georgia to go to my old school in Waco, Tx for my Junior and Senior years.  My family built their trophy case.  Every teacher I ever had there began the first day of school with either, “Are you Luke Bryant’s nephew?” or “Is Stephanie your sister?”  My older cousin Mercury and his brother, my younger cousin were the current superstars both academically and athletically.  I had a lot of cousins that went to school with me. It was great.  I never had to worry about bullies or the normal clique shit.  I got to hang out with all the cool kids all the time because we were all family.  This afforded me, and my enormous imagination a great opportunity to pull off some of the greatest Senior Pranks to ever come from my high school.  I did my family proud.  What follows is an account of how I rigged the Homecoming Queen Court elections for the homecoming court.  As you will see…92.5%Ag Circa 19 and 96 was a burgeoning Danny Ocean.  At this point in my life, during Senior year I was still just a small time Class Clown.  I was well known by both students and faculty, but hadn’t done anything to cement my legacy…yet.

For the uninitiated, the Home Coming Queen Court is pretty important to small town Texas girls. They get to go out on the football field during halftime of the Home Coming game.  In small town Texas, all of this is a big deal in a young lady’s life.  I really don’t remember how the idea came to me; too much free time and free alcohol I suppose.  We were going to pull off the biggest upset of all time.  We were going to get Martha Beeko elected to the Home Coming Queen Court.

*dum dum dum dummmmmm*

*regrets not having a picture to depict Ms. Beeko*

I have the ability to be loquacious at times.  Let us see if I can paint the whole picture here…  She was not attractive, but that is not it.  She was mean, surly, vindictive.  I suppose high school was no picnic for her, but she did her own part to make it hell for other people that were my friends.  She had made her way onto my radar and I was in need of a plot device for my farce.  How surreal would it be in small town Texas to have the mean and unpopular girl with the jehri curl elected to the Home Coming Queen Court that is generally populated by the future Miss America Wanna Be Club?  I didn’t have the answer, but I wanted to see.  All I needed was a plan.

Now I could have tried to talk everyone into voting for her, but that plan didn’t look like it would have a high rate of success.  I needed a more proactive approach. That’s where my cousin on the student council came into play.  Merc’s younger brother Alvis.  He was privy to the Home Coming Planning Committee as a member of student council.  His information was key to the whole plan.  You see he let me know how the whole vote was to take place.

*queue narration scene monologue and montage*

At 9:15 of Second Period there would be an announcement that in 15 minutes representatives of student council would be coming by with the votes for the Home Coming Queen Court.  We would have 10 minutes to vote.  The votes were simple.  Two separate votes; one each for the king and queen and placed in two buckets marked with a K or a Q.  Then *dramatic pause, camera comes back to me to end the montage* all the votes would be taken to the library to count.  *Yeah, seriously I know. Could they make this any easier for me?*  Later in the afternoon they would announce the court to be voted on and announced at the homecoming dance.

*End Scene*

I had the beginnings of a plan, but I needed to get my hands on those votes. Without the official votes, no plan would have worked.  Yes they were just photocopied pieces of paper, but the official vote always had some message about your current year from the student council.  This was generally handled by the girls of the council so Alvis was no help there.  I enlisted the first of my accomplices. J.P. was a really good friend and he had a locker next to one of the girls on the student council that was sure to handle the votes.  He was also my key to getting her combination on her locker.  I was going to need that combination at least two days before the voting was to take place and he was the perfect man to watch her put it in period after period catching those numbers as they flew by.  He had two weeks, but I had faith he could get it done and sure enough a week in he said he had it. Me not liking to leave anything to chance decided to make a trial run to ensure the combo worked.  We would hang out during basketball practice in a couple of days and wander back when no one is around and check it.  No chance of getting caught then. /sarcasm

While JP was working on getting that combination I was working on what to do once 9:15am hit.  I would need people out of class.  That was easy enough, but I didn’t want to sacrifice my good friends on the one task that was sure to draw attention…the smash and grab.  I was going to need some two people to steal the buckets like bag snatchers on Halloween.  They would be the only exposed members of the team.  I also deduced that they should be Freshman as it would be written off as a stupid Freshman prank [them just running off with the buckets] and not the more diabolical plan that I had in mind [me replacing votes in the bucket with prefilled ballots].  Thanks to the Texas public school system demanding that for me to graduate I had to take a class that wasn’t available in Georgia, Texas History, I was placed in the traditionally freshman class my Senior year.  I only see opportunity and I knew those kids would be useful that year.  I enlisted three of the knuckleheads to “bucket-jack” the council reps for me for only $10 a piece. They would move the buckets to the boys bathroom on the southside of the school. There JP and our friend Nathan would replace approx. 1/10 of the ballots with our pre-filled Martha Beeko ballots.  I just wanted her in the court and I didn’t want it to be in a landslide.  The administration would have known something was up if it was a statistical impossibility…LOL  Now all I needed were those ballots.

6:15pm during basketball practice.  I waited for my cousin to get through with practice and would just ride home with him.  It was quiet in the lunchroom now as I was doing some homework.  Most of the teachers were gone and the cleaning crew was showing up.  This was my chance to test that combination.  I began to wander back to the lockers as the hum of vacuum cleaners whirred in the background.  Finally I found “Tiffany’s” locker.  I put in the combo and *chunk*…nothing.  I turn it three times to reset it and desperately try one more time and suddenly… I’m startled by the janitor that informs me, “hey kid, you aren’t supposed to be back here this late”.  I unflinchingly reply, “I’m just grabbing a book before I leave.” and pull down on the lock praying that it opens.

*Click*

I open the locker and grab a book.  I bid the impatient janitor a good evening and make my way back to the gym.  I had to remember to drop that book off in the lost & found that next morning.

*I was untouchable*

So with combination in hand all I had to do was have JP notify me when she left her bag in her locker.  This was easy because she was in lots of clubs.  I would only get one or two shots at getting a copy of those ballots at least the night before. Alvis let me know when the ballots were done.  JP let me know when her bag was in her locker before Fifth Period Calculus.  I took a bathroom break and proceeded to Tiffany’s locker.  I strolled up like it was my locker and everything went as planned.  One day before the voting took place I had a ballot.  A few photo copies and different handwriting samples later different pens and pencils later, we had our pre-filled ballots.  They were folded up into the pockets of large jackets ready to replace those real votes when the time came.  Each operative had enough to do the job by himself if he were the only one to get out of class and make it to the bathroom in time.

*I had thought of everything*

What can I say….?  Like Hannibal from the A-Team, I love it when a plan comes together.  At 9:32 I voted for Christy “something-or-other” for Home Coming Queen Court.  I held a spirited debate on the vote…    Those Freshman got the ballots to the bathroom at 9:44.  JP and Nathan got the votes replaced and the Freshman took the buckets back, all the while apologizing for “joking around”, at approx. 9:49. The Freshmen were each given detention and $10 for their trouble.

Later that afternoon during Seventh Period, we were called into the gym.  I sat in the same spot I aways did.  Top right side, in the cool section two rows from the top.  That is where I would watch my drama unfold.  I knew it had worked.  Alvis had told me of the spirited debate on the council during lunch as to how Martha Beeko had garnered the amount of votes to attain a seat at the “HAVES” table.  For wasn’t she, at least in their eyes, a “HAVE NOT”.  Alvis being the good soldier that he is suggested that no matter the reason a vote is a vote and it’s too late to hold another one.  “We should just announce the results as is.”, he said.  His part was the most important and he pulled it off to a ‘T’.

*You always need a good face man.*

So there I sat waiting, but then it happened.  The court consisted of six girls. The top six vote getters would be in the court.  They called out five girls and hadn’t called my girl.  I was a little nervous as I had told people to expect this. My reputation was on the line.  Had they figured it out?  Did someone crack?  I can’t go back to priso…wait, what?  Then it came.  “And the last, but not least member of your Home Coming Queen Court is….Martha Beeko…”

*silence*

It was anything but anti-climactic.  Girls were crying…OMG, THEY’RE CRYING!!!! *BWUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!  Someone shouts, “I WAS ROBBED!!!!”  It was glorious.   My friends were cracking up and slapping me on the back.  I was informing them that it
was not the best to draw so much attention to myself.  *LOL*

In the end, Martha decided it was better that she didn’t want to take advantage of the opportunity.  She was not in the Home Coming Queen Court that night and we only had five ladies on the field.  Thankfully though, her name was said over the loudspeaker at halftime of the Home Coming game as, “She couldn’t be here with us tonight”.  If I remember right, I believe I took a bow.  My sister really thought it was funny as I was living with her at the time and she would ask for daily updates of how my plan was unfolding.  She always thought I was funny.  She always said this was her favorite of all my high school pranks.

Carl Rove ain’t got nothing on me.   *wink*

*Bill Clinton they can’t touch me cartwheel*

Jumpee Special Edition

 Jumpee posted this in the comments of his own entry. . . and I just couldn’t leave it there to be lost in the shuffle.  It’s too great a story.

*How I started a fire trying to make cinnamon toast*

So there I am, my parents and big sis had gone over to my grandmothers house [to get my Nintendo I presumed] and I had the munchies. Not those kinds of munchies [those would come later and life and be used to explain my sudden dip in GPA]. At this point in my life I was only adept at providing myself sustenance in a few ways. Begging my sister to make me something to eat, begging my mother to make me something to eat or making cinnamon toast.

Now the cinnamon toast making came as both my mother and my sister were tired of me bugging them and thought they’d be slick and teach me how to make it. Inevitably I would always get the mixture wrong and there would be WAY too much cinnamon and never enough sugar. To fix this problem I was given a pre-made mixture that would allow me to maintain my girlish *wait, what* figure on my own.

Cinnamon toast had become a snap to make. I was making it all the time. Morning, noon and night. It was a glorious time for me in my youth as I felt self sufficient, completely untethered from adults…in a word, “FREE”.

As I look back on that time of my life, maybe, just maybe I had become too cocky. On the night before I was ensured my Nintendo I decided that I would do a little snooping in my gifts that were already under the tree. These were always the clothes and other knick knacks that I never cared for as my parents knew that I would snoop. The good stuff never arrived until after I had fallen asleep. So I placed the toast in the toaster and went into the living room to inspect my future bounties. After about 10 minutes I realized that I had not heard that familiar *chunk* of the toaster releasing my toast from it’s depths. I ran into kitchen and there it was…A BLAZING INFERNO.

The flames, if I recall, were forty feet high. The heat singed off my eyebrows. My life flashed before my eyes… Okay, none of that is true, but to a seven year old that just started a fire on Christmas Eve, I was scared shitless. But, as a man [I’m so gonna pay for that one…LOL j/k geez], I went right into problem solving action. Just minutes earlier I found out that I was getting a pair of Spider-Man pajamas. That’s the answer I thought…they must be flame resistant… Spider-Man will save the day. I mean, they were SPIDER-MAN’s OWN PERSONAL PAJAMAS. Running back to the living room, I quickly unwrapped my present and darted back to the kitchen to fan out the flames.

Sadly…as the plastic melted away from the packaging and my Spider-Man pajamas began to singe I realized that maybe this wasn’t the best of ideas. I knew from school that using water on electrical fires was not the greatest of ideas either, so I smothered it with a kitchen towel. It was a little hard to explain to my mother how I almost burned down the house and why I decided it was okay to unwrap my gift. Maybe Santa was watching that night and I ended up being placed on the Naughty list at the last moment.

Jumpee Wednesday Installment 2

The year was 1985. I was just a small town boy, living in a looooonely world. I took the midnight train going anywheeeerrreeee…what, wait, that’s Journey. Let me start again.

Anyway. It was 19 and 85. Bands like Klymaxx, Simple Minds and Ready For the World ruled the airwaves. We still loved Mel Gibson as Mad Max after he returned from the Thunderdome with Tina Turner and all was good in the world. However, I only had one thing on my mind [just like now, but different ]…

8-bits of glory called the Nintendo Entertainment System. It’s all I thought about. I had a commodore 64 and pretty much every Atari under the sun, but this represented the new age. There was no way I was going to be the only kid on the block without one. My friends and I all had the same wish and had come up with an ingenious plan. We would all ask for A) a NES and B) we would each put in a request for a different game. This couldn’t fail. Dammit, I was middle class. I couldn’t be denied. I submitted my letter to Santa in triplicate several months in advance and was ensured of my NES’s arrival by my older sister Stephanie.

Fast forward to Christmas morning at about 5am [For the sake of space I will skip the part where I put out a fire I started in the toaster while trying to make some cinnamon toast with my new spider man PJs that my mom bought me for Christmas that I wasn't supposed to know about... ]. I rush in and rip off the packaging and what do I find….

The fucking original Sega GameSystem. Have you even heard of this POS? I hadn’t either. Now we all know how the Sega Genesis went on to dominate the market for years to come and force the evolution of the gaming industry, but [as stated previously] this was 19 and 85 and none of that had happened yet. The original sega was a POS and it showed all over my face [Years later I apologized to my mom for the disappointment I showed that day...but hey, I was a spoiled brat.    However on that day...I could not have been more upset. There was an organized meeting with my friends in a few hours to discuss how we would share which games and how was I going to explain my incompatibility with the crew. I was doomed.

I turned to my mother that morning and asked her, "Why, oh why would you do this to me?" Her response, "Because Ella [her best friend from work. I hated her kids and they lived on the other side of Waco...] got her boys this and it seemed just as good as that nintenbox that you wanted. Aren’t they all the same?” I felt like Charlie Brown must feel with everyone against him.

*insert Charlie Brown cry of anguish here*

My sister tried to console me by saying it’s not so bad and hooking up the Sega for me. She played it and convinced me to as well, but I new it wasn’t the same thing. Even back then I was trying to work the angles. “But moooooooooooom, if you take this back and get me the Nintendo it will cost less because I will get to share games with my friends.” All I heard back was, “You can share games with Ella’s boys.” Ugh….

Several years later I got my NES, but I’ll always look back on that day as the day when I told Santa to, “Kiss My Ass“.

The epitome of true friendship, right here.

I present to you, dear Internet, 92.5%Ag, now my best friend ever for being ambitious enough to write a guest blog without even being asked, just for the sake of saving my ass with my readers.  Much love, Jumpee, much love.

************************************************ 

As guest blogger today, I’m going to take aim at a subject that, while not near and dear to my heart, is rather appropriate. Enjoy.

So you know when That Guy let’s that little kid draw Family Circus and it looks like crap. How does That Guy get away with that? I’m not even going to take my time to remember That Guy’s name and the name of the child he is exploiting. Is that kid getting residuals? Where is the mom? This has been bugging me for a while and has really started to affect my comic reading. I think I’ve found someone to blame.

You know who I blame… 50 Cent. Yes, that 50 Cent. I’m tired of these rappers with their cars and their money and their curse words corrupting America’s conservative family cartoons. Him and MTV. But the way I hear the word from the “street” That Guy spends all his time hanging with 50 Cent and that…what do they call themselves again. Oh yeah, G-Unit. That Guy needs his ass kicked and get back to drawing that cartoon. I mean really, it’s not like it’s Calvin and Hobbes, right? He’s only got one panel and IT’S NOT EVEN A SQUARE.

So in closing(like it’s a high school paper). That Guy, you really need to quit hanging with 50 Cent and get back to work. Ruining that poor kids childhood. Wait, what??? There really is no kid Billy. Oh… I see.

I’d like to take a moment to apologize to Mr. Bill Keane and his family. However, I still don’t think it’s that great of an idea to hang out with 50 Cent.

This has been your 92.5%Ag guest blog.

Peafe Nation