Church of JISM

CJ's Pub. One week hence. Bring your Jesus pants...the first official meeting of the Church of JISM is nigh. What are we about?

1. Jesus Is Savior of Man.
2. Jesus would like you to enjoy an icy cold AmberBock and a greasy delicious superpub.
3. Jesus recommends you do not fill up on popcorn.
   
4. Jesus would like you to rub your belly post-haste.

If my blasphemy alone has not convinced you to join up, I urge you to consider this color photograph taken with love by one Nicholas B. Kimlinger--man, you should've seen him go to town on that burger. It was incredible...and beautiful.

Secondly--did everyone see that good ol' John L. actually sent players out to guard the 50 from marauding ND flag-planters after the game on Saturday? Please pardon my language, but what a douche. Here's some rando that put it more eloquently than I did:

The win and the post game celebration were made all the more sweet by Smith's juvenile attempt to "protect the S" as if it were a battle between the neighborhood toughies on The East Side Kids. Smith actually had three players stand at the 50 yard line for at least 20 minutes after the game ended, thinking Notre Dame players would even care to plant a flag at midfield. It's hard to imagine a leader of college age men directing such an inappropriate and immature act, but such is the character of John L. Smith.

I'd love to credit it, but I have no idea who wrote that. It came to me in a dream, or an email from Mothball, or something. I'm guessing he's old, since I have no idea what the hell The East Side Kids is. Anyway, here's a graphic from some other rando who has way more time than me to make hilarious graphics. Please feel free to let the smugness wash over you. Mmmmmm, unearned smugness.

Lastly, things are in the works for next weekend. Good things. BRC things. I'll keep you posted. Or not. Lizett's in town. Screw off, everyone else!

All The Way Back

This was our Busy Two Weeks where we do all the initial course scheduling for the departments. My trained and skilled partner in scheduling recently left the office to devote herself full time to prostitution, leaving me with her as yet untrained and unskilled replacement, so it has been a bit hectic. Our office used to have a team of 10 or 12 people going full tilt for 2 weeks to get things done--through my near god-like genius I have been able to cut that down to a team of 3, but it turns out a team of 2 trying to get it done while simultaneously training a new person may have been a bit...insane. We got it done though. So it's done.

Secondly--Chipotle opens in the Bend tomorrow. Freaking sweeeeeeeet!

Thirdly, now that I finally have some time to waste, as I have grown accustomed to during work hours...it's time for my vacation wrap-up.

So I picked Lizett up at the Raleigh/Durham airport Friday night, and I had just seen her that Monday, which is totally unusual for us--usually we don’t see each other for several weeks at a time. I had something running through my head about how nice it was to see her again so soon, how it didn’t feel like a big reunion but just...seeing her, like normal people see each other, but what actually came out of my mouth was "You know, I think this is the least excited I’ve ever been to see you." Smooooooooooth! Oh well, that’s why God invented makeup sex. After marriage, of course.

We stayed at my brother's house in Durham Friday night and headed out for Topsail Beach on Saturday morning. It was pretty awesome. The hurricane had cleared out most of the bad weather, the house was big, comfy, and right on the beach, and the whole family was there. It was Lizett’s first time meeting everyone, but fortunately they were able to bond over mercilessly making fun of me, so that was a real ice breaker. Although I guess the ice was already broken, as the first thing she heard my brother-in-law Todd say was "Mmm, I love to watch Eric shower." Please enjoy that quote with no context or explanation whatsoever.

First things first, we went and frolicked in the ocean a la Rocky III. We took a football with us and repeatedly played the prank where you throw it just as a big wave is coming in and it totally nails the receiver. This is funny every time. EVERY time. You know what else is funny? When your girlfriend is out on the beach just meeting your family for the first time and--SNAP!--her tankini strap pops open. Classic Lizett! Always showing your bosoms to people.

The rest of the vacation was much as you’d expect. Walks on the beach, big dinners, sitting around and chatting, board games, all that stuff. It was a really good time. And there were babies. Babies and beaches means baby swimsuits!

Actually that picture was taken several weeks before for a pool visit, but you get the point. They were adorable. They are both just learning to talk, and for some reason Natalie tends to just say the beginning of words, while Gwen just says the end. To Natalie, fish are fee, to Gwen, chips are ips. Together they are some sort of super-intelligent genius baby. They were a little scared of the ocean, and rightly so, as they are only about a foot and a half tall a piece and have never seen anything remotely like it, but I think they really started to enjoy themselves. Todd and Lisa would hold them by the arms at the edge of the water and lift them up as the waves came in, and they giggled like--and this will shock you--little girls.

So that was NC. Good food, family together time, and babies. Bah-BEEEES, as Natalie would say. Lizett and I ended up leaving early Thursday because we wanted to be back in South Bend for the Penn State game, and I wanted to stop off overnight in Columbus and show her home. It was quite a drive, I think we made it in a little under 11 hours, proving we are indeed meant to be together, because if you can ride in a car with someone for 11 hours and only punch her once, brother, you’ve got it made.

We were pretty exhausted by the time we got to Columbus, but by GOD not too exhausted to go to the Lube. It's so delicious. It makes Hooters wings seem like a big pile of dead swallows. European swallows. And the next day we went to Donatos, pretty much by far the most delicious pizza ever. So…those were our two big adventures in my hometown. We...ate, twice. And as Lizett mentioned, were nearly killed when a bathtub spontaneously plummeted from the sky...fortunately narrowly missing us and hitting some nearby republicans instead. We headed back to the Bend that afternoon and--there we are. I think I already wrote the rest. Thus concludes my magical backwards journey through the mind. Screw you, jerkwads!

The Game

I don’t have much to say about the game. I know it was painful for everyone, but I’d wager most of you weren't actually in the stadium sitting next to a rabid lifelong Michigan fan. I could actually feel the smugness and self-satisfaction radiating from him. It smelled like bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches.

After the game I fell asleep in my camping chair at the post-tailgate and woke up to the Rocky Raul love machine humping my face from both sides. That’s how you know who your real friends are...some people would just draw a penis on your face in that situation, but with these two, it's real life penis-to-face contact. Thanks fellas, you really know how to make a guy feel horribly, horribly violated. The point of the story is, as horrifying as that mental image may be--and there are pictures, so look forward to experiencing that glory for yourself--it felt like a sensual massage from some sort of hot female Jesus compared to the pain and horror of what I had already been through that day. It was that bad. Not USC bad, but bad.

In other news, I got my first bill from Cingular today--$656.18! Apparently in the act of signing up for a new contract, what I actually did was cancel three previous lines still under contract for the low low price of $175 each. I don’t remember signing three previous contracts with Cingular, nor cancelling them immediately after signing up for a brand new one, but it’s on my bill so it must be true. It would seem God does not want me to be happy with my wireless provider.

Callback

Back by popular demand, by which I mean one person asked for it, I bring you good luck against Michigan tomorrow in the form of The Mothball Post-Michigan Victory Happy Dance of Joy!

My pick:

ND: Sinatra
Michigan: Man Capris

Wait

I think I screwed that math up. Forgot to carry the lettoose.

+

=

Good catch, Jism.

Fact.

+

=

Working Further Backwards

All the way back to the actual vacation. It was extremely awesome once I got there. Getting there was only kind of awesome. First thing we had to do was take the dogs to the kennel. We have two big dogs, Oscar and Phoebe. They are great dogs, wonderful dogs, but they are not good dogs, and certainly not good-smelling dogs. It's not their fault--I'm pretty sure I'd start to stink too if I didn't shower every day, and I don't have the benefit of carrying dead birds in my mouth or rolling around in raccoon poop. So these two big stinky slobbery dog-beasts knew something was up--I was home, suitcases were laying around, everyone was up early packing the cars--their primitive dog-minds could not quite wrap around the situation, but they knew they must run and jump and slobber with utmost urgency and enthusiasm. Getting them into the car was an ordeal which I cannot even write about. Ever got your ass whooped by a golden retriever? It was funny in Air Bud; in real life it just wounds your pride and your body. Once we had them in the back, they really started freaking out, lunging at my mother in the driver's seat with the apparent intention of killing us all, so I had to go sit bitch and put my arms around them in such a manner that, if they had been two fine ladies, would have caused me to do that lip thing white guys do when they're being studly and say awwwwwwwwwww yeeeaaaaaaa. But they were not two fine ladies, they were two 100lb stinky slobber machines suffering under the delusion that they are lap dogs. Oscar just sat there staring at me, panting hot breath directly into my face and visibly shedding. It was gross. Real gross. Phoebe could not be consoled, I'm afraid, and just started running around in circles. How can a 100lb dog run around in circles in the back seat of a Honda while constrained in my grasp? I don't know. I was there and I have no freaking idea. I only know that it is so. Well, enough about dogs.

The drive down was an adventure. I drove with my dad. God decided to kick me in the nuts and make the rainclouds follow us all the way to NC. Thank God my wiper blades had gone bad. That helped a lot. Also getting pulled over at 68 in a 55 was pretty pleasant. Right at the border of Ohio--almost made it. I don't even know what happened. I'm a pretty safe driver, 2, 3 mph over the speed limit in general, right lane kind of guy--I was going down a hill, oblivious to my speed until I saw the trooper car pass, then looked down--shit. So he turned around, pulled me over, I said "sir" a lot, and--bizarrely--he told me to come sit in his cruiser while he checked out my information. Whaaaat? That's not normal, is it? What'd my car come up stolen or something? So I looked at my dad, and he shrugged, and the cop was already walking away, so what could I do but follow? I kind of did this awkward finger wiggling motion like, front seat or back seat? He laughed at pointed to the front seat, so that was reassuring. He saw my plates, obviously, so he sat there chatting about the upcoming football season while he wrote out all my information. He was quite a friendly fellow, I think he just wanted to talk some football. I had only been pulled over once before, in Indiana, and that guy was a real dick, so score one for Meigs County, OH. My phone rang, and he said I could go ahead and answer it--it turned out to be a text from Lizett saying she hoped my trip was going well so far. By then we were BFF so I showed him the text and he goes--I swear this is true--"...Mother of God." No, it's not true, I just wanted to give you that split second of happiness. He really did burst out laughing though--apparently the irony of receiving that particular message in a police cruiser tickled him too. But not enough to let me off with a warning. 100 bucks! Balls.

Well, I haven't gotten to actual vacationing yet, but this is long. Next time.

Working Backwards

So before the Ultimate Lost Marathon, there was a football game. And before the football game was a tailgate. And even before that some alumni came and met us at BtB, which made the tailgate a little rough at first, but these things happen. AmyPawlowicz said a bad word. THE bad word--I want to make sure everyone knows that. Labeled...for her pleasure.

The tailgate was good, lots of alums. Not a lot of tickets. The Vnaks brought their wee little baby Vnaks, and they were some outrageously cute little mofos. If Lizett had not lost my spleen earlier in the week in a high stakes poker game, it would almost definitely have exploded. It was kind of nuts to actually see them with their babies--you're YOUNGER than me, Vnaks! You once fell asleep on my bathroom floor curled up with the very towel I use to dry my genitals! Other notables included the Angelo-Beth combo, the B-Puff-Amy combo, the scolson-Eliz combo, the Nick-Jess combo, the Cock-Christine combo, the Lizett-Big-Sexy combo, and the Raul-Rocky love machine. That's right, if I didn't mention you, you're not notable. Specifically you, Jan. It also occurred to me much later that I didn't really talk to any of the aforementioned people, because I am an anti-social loser. Also I felt like revelry-induced-shite for much of the morning and was in Oh-God-Lizett-Is-Leaving-Tomorrow mode to boot, so I was pretty much attached to her at the ass all day. We walk ass to ass sometimes. It's kind of Our Thing. I'll catch you at Stanford, everyone else.

Speaking of Lizett and ass, she wanted to hit up the concert on the steps because she was not satisfied with the previous 28 times she went, so I got to traipse along for that and stand awkwardly while she was berated with hugs from a torrent of underclassmen who I not only did not know, but no longer even recognize. Theoretically I could've gone to say hi to the few remaining 'tones I know, but instead I opted...to not do that. To complete our anti-social loser theme, we actually retreated to the Registrar's Office after that to enjoy some frosty sodas instead of going to see the stepoff, so screw you everyone! Man, getting into the stadium was a breeze, and we were still there in plenty of time for everything, I'm never following the band in again.

The game was awesome. We were Hulk Hogan, Penn State was a sickly midget with a limp. We had our way with you and then used your broken bodies to mop up your tears. We chewed on your souls and flossed with your spirits. We are awesome and you suck. Retroactive pick:

ND: Heart-medicine-laced submarine sandwich
Penn State: Fondling sweaters

Oh, I actually took a picture with my digital camera, hugely out of character. I believe Lizett forced me:

That’s right, I’m pretending to lick her face. I even made it the background of my phone so every time I flip it open everyone can know how wacky and outrageous I am.

Finally, you must trust me, for I speak-a Spanish: You must never give the drunk Rocky-Raul love machine the keys to your home, under any circumstances. I don’t know what happened while I was at the game. I don’t want to know. I know only that when I got home Raul was gone, along with my key. Rocky was in some sort of delusional state of waking sleep. The laundry I’d had churning in the dryer was inexplicably strewn across the carpet. There was vomit on Ball’s toilet, my bathroom floor was under half an inch of water, and my bath towel—the very towel one Mr. Vnak once cuddled with—was a soaking wet ball in the bathtub. My backup bath towel had something…something yellow on it. Potato-sacking sons of bitches.

I'm Back

I hurt my back yesterday watching 12 episodes of Lost in a row. That's not something I should've just jumped right into after a week of little to no TV, you need to work up to that. I'm sitting at what looks like a jaunty angle at my desk, but it's not jaunty at all. It's more of a, I have to sit like this or I'll start crying like an infant. I think I may need physical therapy, but my back-rubbing device was shipped back to Texas yesterday. Maybe I'll get Raul drunk tonight. Raul gives pretty good backrubs.