You know I'm going to have to run now... right?

OK... So I've put this off long enough. The address for this site is arrestednaked, so it's time I talk about how our beloved blog got its name.

A couple years ago I was celebrating my friend Joe's 21st birthday with him. I believe he and I were the last ones at the bar. We were shiiiiitcanned, but I persuaded the bartender to give us one more shot on behalf of Joe's birthday. He gave us a pine tree. I should have known what it was from the name... it was straight gin. I effing hate gin. If I were dying of thirst and I was offered gin, I would sooner die. Anyway, I blame the following story on that last shot...

Joe and I leave the bar, which was just off campus, and head back to our apartments on campus. On the way home, I realize that it's my last semester (or should have been) and I had never gone skinny-dipping in the reflection pond. I think it's necessary to do that before you graduate Clemson. No shit, I think it goes on your transcripts. I can't remember if Joe was for it or against it as I was a little fuzzy at the time, but we went for it.

So off we go into the reflection pond. We swim around for a while, good times. We're pretty much cracking up. I remember thinking "this was a really good idea!" If there's one thing I've learned from all of my drinking, it's that when I say that drunk, it's really not. Our pleasant swim is interrupted by a security guard at the library that overlooks the pond. He tells us to get out of there, we oblige. Then I had another really good idea. Instead of putting my clothes back on, I was going to streak across campus back home (even though i HAD done that before). And by streak, I mean casually walk with Joe.

We make it about halfway home without much ado besides me playfully chasing a couple of girls that were also taking a drunken stroll home. They were not naked. Sadly. Then a... we'll say ample... female security guard calls out to us.

"Hey, you... um, COME HERE!"

I look back surprised and point at myself, a puzzled look on my face like I don't actually know who she's talking to... Me? Joe? Joe? Me? She is not amused.

I stroll up to her, as casually as I had been walking with Joe, wearing a drunken smile, half-closed eyes, and little else. "Yeah, what's up?"

"What are you... why don't you have your clothes on? You... you know I'm gonna have to call the cops now, right?"

I look at her... weigh my options (kind of)... and decide on my reply.
"You... know I'm gonna have to run now... right???"

Right there, in all my glory, I strike a Heisman... my clothes as my football, my pose as the stupidest person in intramural college football. I bolt.

I'm fairly close to home, so I feel I have a good shot at making it. I hit Cherry road, one of the streets that partitions actual campus from the on-campus apartments, and in the corner of my eye there are two cop cars with their lights flashing coming up on me quick. I get across the street, and instead of taking the stairs, i hop over a little brick wall and run down a hill into the apartment area where I lived. If I had any sense at all, I would have run home or to Plumazing's apartment, both of which were nearby. But I had no sense at all. The cops are chasing me, although they're fat and slow. I run down the next hill (Clemson's in the hills, yeah boooyyyy!) One of the cops falls down the hill. It's hilarious. I'm still running, but I have a hard time running and laughing, so I actually trip up, too. Showing INCREDIBLE coordination for being as intoxicated as I was, I roll through a somersault back into a full-blown run. Didn't miss a beat. I'm still waiting for the Espy. I get to the other side of this mini-valley and start running up the stairs, but two more cop cars converge on the on the other side.

Shit. Apparently, cops have walky-talkies. Apparently, with four units on my case, the cops in Clemson have little else to do on a Tuesday night except chase naked men around campus. Apparently, Gay. I tried to run into a little wooded area to my left, but I get tripped up pretty quickly (this was a bad idea... i later had poison ivy ON MY ASS). I'm effed in the A, so I throw my hands up and admit to all the cops that "I'm retarded." They were gracious enough to let me put my clothes back on before they cuffed me. Thanks...

On the way to the car, the adrenaline gave me the chance to think clearly if only for a second... I wonder if I'm gonna be charged with indecent exposure. I didn't exactly want to be labeled a sex offender, so I ask...
"So... what am I being charged with?"

I guess I wasn't thinking TOO clearly in the way I asked. The cop busted out laughing and says to all his buddies...
"HA! The kid wants to know why he's being arrested."

Sigh... shit.

So that's my story. Striking a Heisman in the middle of campus, fully nude, was either the low point or the high point of my college career. Over three years later, I still haven't decided which...

What ever happen to predictability, the milk man, the paper boy, evening t.v

FOR REAL, WHAT HAPPEN...., You miss your old familar friends, but
waiting just around the bend. WHATS AROUND THE BEND?
SERIOUSLY, WHAT QUALIFIES AS A BEND?

Everywhere you look (everywhere) NOT LOOKING...
There's a heart (there's a heart)
A hand to hold on to. THEN REACH OUT
AND GRAB MY HAND JOHN STAMOS!

Everywhere you look (everywhere)
There's a face of somebody who needs you. SATAN?!
NO WAIT, JESUS!

When you're lost out there and your all alone
A light is waiting to carry you home AM I DEAD?!
FUCK BEANS!, I'M DEAD, AREN'T I?

Everywhere you look. I SEE DEAD PEOPLE...

(Chip-a-dee-ba-ba-dow)

SORRY, BORED AND NOBODY HAS POSTED IN A WHILE.

Well then allow me to retort...

Not now chief, I'm in the fuckin' zone

Crab Cake Sandwiches???

Nobody's written in a while. That makes My Name is Jonas a sad blogger.

Anyway, I'm no better.

It's been pretty much a useless work day... half the company is already on vacation, those that are here aren't doing jack or shit. I've already read up on all the news at ESPN, checked up on the Clemson Tiger newsboards, read a handful of online comics, and checked my college football blog... and I've been here for less than two hours. Days like today make me wonder why they even pay me.

Anyway, after I wasted the first part of my morning, I decided to get some work done... so I went and chatted with my assistant about non-work related things. (nicely done, My Name is Jonas... nicely done) Somehow it came up that she was going to order crab cake sandwiches for lunch. My gut reaction went like this... "Crab cake sandwiches???? Get the fuck out!!!!" Probably not very professional, but I couldn't really help myself. Which leads me to my obligatory nod to internet pop culture....



So, what's the haps tonight? I'm probably getting out of Dresden before 2, so... holla.

God, I hate Matt Ryan

That is all...

Oh, Lord, this is stupid...

First of all... I'm wasted. It's 2:3o, i just had too many shots of jager, and if i remember correctly (and that's a stretch right now), i just left a present in our former neighbors' front porch. Ugh. It hurts.

Anyway, besides the fact that it's amazing that I can even effing type correctly right now, I found an amazing video. A couple of my recent posts have incorporated pictures or kitsch from popular culture, but I suppose I'll adopt that as my thang... whatever. I own that. Well, here's my new fetish... white chicks with gang signs.




So retarded and yet... I want them. They flash the ghetto shit and i wanna get wit' it. Lean wit' it and rock wit' it. Is that so wrong??? FUCK YOU... I didn't want your opinion any damn way.

Right now I love the fact that I'm going to regret this in the morning.

While I'm at it... I'm going to personally guarantee that we beat Boston College. I've had too much to drink, I don't know the players, BC is as motivated as we are to get to the ACC Championship, but fuck it. We're going to win. We started Matt Ryan's career by actually killing him, and we can end it, too. See exhibit A:



Trust me, he died during that hit. Dunham laid the wood so hard that he was KILLED. However, since then he has lived as the dead to ruin the season of many an ACC opponent *ahem, Virginia Tech, cough*. He doesn't seem to know how to lose. Except for maybe to Maryland. Or to some old fart named Bobby. But fuck those discrepancies. Doesn't matter. He still doesn't know how to REALLY lose. We'll just assume that BC was kicking it to rest up for the divisional championship vs. CU. We beat both of those teams this year, and we'll show Matty Ice to the loser's bracket FOR REAL for real.

Then we're coming for you, Virginia Tech. Like a thief in the night... who might die mid-mission. I don't know. I can't guarantee that win. Even drunk, I'm not a complete idiot.

Anyway, I feel the need to leave you with hot women. Call me generous. Don't say the Jason never gave ya nothin'........





aaaaaand because i think i love her....



Alright, drunk and sleep. Peace out, bitches...

mnij

This is the problem I have...

I highly doubt that anyone else has this problem but this is the kinda stuff that toils on my mind day in and day out. First off, like most people, I sorta have mixed reviews about my job. I like money however I don't enjoy doing any work ever. Example being, I was buying some clothes Friday, the the retail mistress at the checkout had asked me "How are you doing today?" I shook my head in disgust and sorrow and said "Not too good here lady." "What's wrong?" "Well, I was playing Madden earlier and I beat the Saints to finish off my regular season then simulated the Wildcard playoffs (I had already clinched a playoff spot) and inadvertantly simulated the rest of the season, losing to the Seahwaks in the first round of the playoffs." I mean, she was at work and THIS was the worst thing that happened to me all day, excluding my dimishing stockade of champagne. So I felt sorta bad. But this isn't the problem I have. The problem I have is this. Okay, I know some of you guys wear you fancy button down shirts/suits, or a nice little polo shirt to work. Here's my typical work attire. A flannel I picked up at Goodwill, covering a plain white Hanes Shirt, with or without coffee or grease stains, and a pair of ripped jeans and a pair of Chucks (and socks adn underwear of course). In "Life's Little Instruction Manual" is says "Don't dress for the job you have, dress for the job you want." Previously, I was doing neither. However, It got me to thinking, "Ya know, I'm a 27 year old engineer and sometimes when I'm superhungover and go to 7-11 for some snacks in this attire, I may be construed as homeless. Point made, so maybe should dress nicer to work. And this is my problem. I been picking up some collared shrts that are nice enough to wear to work, it's a step up. But I don't liek these shirts enough to wear in a social setting. And typically, these shirts cost more than my social setting shirts. So in essence, I am spending more money of workshirts that I don't even like, than my regular shirts. Now I know what you're saying "Why don't you just buy workshirts that you like enough to wear outside of work?" I'm not gonna wear a collared shirt outside of work unless I'm going to court or church (Hold me to this!). Now I can't very well buy cheaper shirts cuz I will utterly hate them, and financially speaking, that is fucking nuts! Also, I can;t wear shirts I like to work cuz I'll get them dirty with grease and holes. Case in point, my barrybostwickband shirt, the old black one, I ruined my previous one and was on my last one and wore it to work, "It's black," I figured, "it can't get greasy." And sure as shit in your poop chute, I ripped it on something.

It just fucking sucks, that I have to spend money on clothes that I won't wear outside of work and like, just enough, for them to potentially get ruined at owrk.

Blog Boner

All this recent action is getting me excited... Enjoy.

Women are like Bears

And I don't mean in the sense that Stephen Colbert does when he talks about bears...

A recent work observation is that lately not very many women have been coming down to the food court to eat luch. During the warmer Spring and Summer months the female professional can be found in that habitat quite frequently. The female professionals travel in pacts and will dress up to make themselves more attractive to the male professional so that interaction such as mingling or flirting will be conductive.

When the cooler Fall and Winter months set in the female professional seems to all but disappear from the habitat. It would seem that they have filled themselves with all the calories they will need during the warmer months in preparation for the long winter slumber or hibernation. This year the cooler temperatures have set in early and the male professionals have been left to feed by themselves, it will surely be a long Fall and Winter for the hungry males.

Welcome to the party

Konkey Dong... welcome to the party. How nice of you to join us.

So you know the drill around here, each one of us posts about once every.... three weeks. In the meantime, we bitch about everyone else not posting. It's a good time.

And with this weak post, I will leave you with this: the effects of drinking entirely too many shots of whiskey...

WTF?

What The Fire...?
You guys honestly think that this fire is a good enough excuse to not be putting any posts on the blog? I know some of you lazy asses have been sitting at home for the last couple days so there is no excuse...I want action. I ecpect more from you all. I miss you.

Turkey Day!

Since we are in the Holiday season now and these things seem to be on everyone's mind I thought I would talk about my favorite day of the year. Thanksgiving is a time of family and friends, turkey and togetherness, but what is the most important part of all? I know some of you are thinking football or two days off work (yay!) but seriously folks, we all know it is about the dinking.

I for one was passed out by 7pm last year and kinda figure it will wind up the same this time around. Wake up at 7am, crack a bottle of wine and start cooking the turkey is my M.O. 8 bottles of wine, a bottle of vodka and kahlua (yes white russians have become as much of the tradition as the turkey) and a couple cases of beer later we all yell "what's up?" and you know what that means.

Tell me what your favorite part of turkey day is and maybe we can make all your dreams come true this year!

The Season is NOW!

The season is here. We are all a year older, a year wiser, we’ve exchanged bonds put down by our forefathers. We are at a time in our life where a man can be a man and women can be women. We are at one of the only times out of the year you can drink whenever you want and no one second guesses you. They don’t say “You might have a drinking problem.” Or, “I like you better when you’re sober.” Or, “Don’t I make you happy? Why do you have to drink to have a good time? What? Am I not pretty enough for you? I try to hard to make you happy. I came right over and hurried up and when I get here, you’re passed out on the floor. What do I have to do to make you love me?”

They don’t say that, because this is Halloween. There’s a chill in the air and the supermarket is flooded with pumpkin flavored beer that on any other month of the year you would hate, but love in October.

The Skinny:
What’s everyone doing for Halloween.
I personally got nothin’.

I can haz blogspace?

This will not be a full-on post. Just a couple of points...

Ok, so four of you have registered as authors. Good job. We're going to get this thing going if i have to drag you kicking and screaming across the finish line.

I'm going to make it easy for everyone to participate. Leave me a comment on a song I should learn on guitar. I'm tired of playing most of the same old stuff, and want to be entertaining next time I'm drunk off Jaeger. Leave comments of songs. Go ahead. Comment now.

Hmmm.. drunk off Jaeger. Maybe even naked off Jaeger!

Scene of the crime

How the La Jolla sink-hole is a metaphor for why I hate you…

As foretold, a blog about me being allergic to seafood and in result will not be going diving for lobsters.

O.K, hate may be a strong word, but you wanna know what really grinds my gears...people not understanding my dislike for seafood. it's a fact that nobody can except, i tell somebody i don't eat seafood and it's "what?!, are you sure? have you tried (insert sickening underwater creature here)...I'm sorry, it's gross. i had to start telling people I'm allergic to it, just because when they hear that, they're suddenly understanding, but god forbid i just don't like the sea shit, cuss then i have to listen to a ten minute speech about it being scrumptious (promise Jonas i would get that word in my first blog).

None the less, i just wanted to get this blog thing running.....so please, comment, rip me for gayness, write you're own blog...but just do something!

This is a really good idea...

Wanna know how to tell if something is a really bad idea when you're drunk?

Let's see how long this lasts.

Friends, bring it on.