Wednesday, October 31, 2007


The biggest reason I go to work anymore...

...well, other than the money to pay my bills and mortgage.

I really have to come up with some fresh material. I know these overheard bits and pieces of conversation have to be wearing a bit thin. I have the distinct feeling that Halloween tonight, and my rager of a Halloween Hellraiser this weekend will provide some fodder for Spork Nation, or at the very least, inappropriate photographs.

JT: Robert just touched my ass!
Robert: I did not, I was pushed into it. It was accidental hand-to-ass contact!
Brian: Doesn't matter. It's very similar to a roughing the kicker penalty. Even if you were blocked into the kicker, you still have to pay the penalty.
Robert: What's the penalty?
Brian: (hands me a beer) You just bought Josh a beer.
JT: Damn, I love this place.

Robert: Hey! Do we deliver to P.T.'s Cabaret?
JT: We should, it's in our delivery range, right down Harden Street.
(Robert finishes up taking the phone order and brings the ticket into the kitchen. Mo starts giggling uncontrollably.)
Robert: What the hell is so funny?
Mo: P.T.'s Cabaret is a gay bar.
Robert: So?
Mo: The delivery instructions say "Use back door only!"
Pandemonium ensues.

On $1.00 Bud and Bud Light night
Drunk Frat Boy: Give me a Bud Light.
Moses: We're all out of the dollar beers.
Drunk Frat Boy: Okay, I'll have a Budweiser then.
Moses: We're all out of the dollar beers. Bud Light and Bud.
Drunk Frat Boy: Do you have any other beers for a dollar?
Moses: Nope, we're all out of the dollar beers. All both of them.
Drunk Frat Boy: How much is a Miller Lite?
Moses: $2.50. All of our domestics are $2.50.
Drunk Frat Boy: How much is a Coors Light?
Moses: $2.50. All of our domestics are $2.50.
Drunk Frat Boy: How much is a Michelob Light?
Moses: Who's on first?
Drunk Frat Boy: Huh?
Moses: You're cut off.

It's Sunday night. The Sox have swept the World Series. The Village Idiot, being the Red Sox bar of Columbia, is full of loud, boisterous drunks. Myself included.

Drunken Giant: (After watching Liz fall backwards off of her barstool, and rise back up laughing her ass off) Do you need training wheels for that thing?

We're cleaning up the bar, getting ready to lock up. Liz throws a stack of shot cups towards the trash can. They hit the front rim and bounce towards me, hitting me in the crotch, then rebounding into the trash can.
Liz: Liz shoots, Josh's dick with the assist!
JT: Damnit. Even my dick is better than me at basketball.

Happy Halloween, kids! Have fun tonight, and remember: crazy people put razorblades in apples.

JT out.

Monday, October 29, 2007


86 Colorado

Some people wear throwback jerseys. Some people wear throwback kicks. I use throwback images. Animated .gifs, mofo. I'm keepin' it real. I stay street. Look at you posers usin' flash animation, and javascipt. Shit. I was animating images when you bitches was gnawing on teething rings, ya heard?

Red Sox sweep, baby!

Clean sweep, bitches.

A pitching phenomenon. Batting? Yeah, we had that too. Oh, defense? Word. I should explain. Yes, I live in South Carolina. Yes, I grew up here. Do I have any ties to Boston? Only indirectly. Why do I love the Red Sox so much? Well, to be honest, it started out in 2004. I had traditionally been a Cincinnati Reds fan. I still am. I still will fight you tooth and nail over why Pete Rose deserves a spot in the Hall of Fame. I hate Bud Selig.

When the Sox began the American League Championship Series against the Yankees, I was pulling for them, but not with much hope. Like many people outside of New York City, one of my favorite baseball teams is whoever happens to be playing the Yankees. Not only that, but the devil-may-care attitude, the beards, the long hair, I loved it.

Finally, a band of misfits would defeat the pin-striped, uptight Yankees. Screw you Steinbrenner. This is our time. I don't give a damn how much you can pay your players. Of course, Johnny Damon had to go and ruin the image in the off-season by cutting his hair, shaving his beard, and signing with the Yanks. Hey Damon - how does it feel to be not only a sell-out, but a loser also? Even A-Rod may bail on this sorry team. As of tonight, he has opted out of his renewal.

All of this being said, I apologize for the lack of updates. I was operating under superstition. As long as I did not update, the Red Sox would keep winning. Kind of like how Brian would not allow anyone, not even his wife, behind the bar tonight. The one time anyone else was back there, the Rockies hit a home run.

Tomorrow, when I have had some sleep, I will update with a barrage of funny comments I have heard in the bar over the past week...but for now...

JT out.

Monday, October 22, 2007


86 The Tribe

What an emotional win for the Red Sox last night. Brian, the owner of the Village Idiot, and one of the most ardent Boston fans I know, was bartending, and got so excited at one point that we think he may have pulled a hamstring by jumping up and down. Although, if I have to hear Sweet Caroline one more time before the beginning of the Series on Wednesday, I will stab someone. I think I heard it at least twenty times last night, and that's barely an exaggeration.

Without further ado, here are some random snatches of conversation from the Idiot this weekend. (also, Bubba, now that you've pointed out that I say "Thank you for calling the Village Idiot" when I answer the phone, I cringe a bit every time I say it. Thanks for giving me a complex.)

Captain and I are sitting at the bar, minding our own business, drinking beer and watching football. Neither of us are working, so neither of us is wearing anything to suggest that we work here. This guy just walked up and sat right next to Captain, at a mostly empty bar.
Random Drunk Hippie: Can I speak freely to you?
JT: Sure...why not.
Random Drunk Hippie: I mean it...can I be open and honest with you and you not take offense?
JT: Maybe, but usually when people start a conversation that way I wind up pissed off. I'm not promising anything.
Random Drunk Hippie: You've got a nice beard, man. The moustache part is really well developed.
JT: Well...thank you, I suppose. (I'm trying to make it obvious that I want to sit quietly and watch football without being too rude)
Random Drunk Hippie: I mean it, but let me say one more thing...this part (gestures wildly with his hands around the neck and cheeks) this part right here...don't shave that, man. Let it grow. And don't trim your beard back, man. Let it get big and full, man. Don't be ashamed of it. You've got a great beard.
JT: I'll take that into consideration.
Random Drunk Hippie: I mean it. I bet you keep it short and neat like that for chicks. Who cares what chicks think?
Captain: Most heterosexual males. Can we just watch football here?
JT: That would be fantastic. Also, I keep my beard like this because I think it looks better, and I need to have a professional appearance for my job. Would you like for me to share my feelings on your beard, or can we watch football?
Random Drunk Hippie: Man, you need to respect me, man.
Captain: Why? What have you done since you sat down and interrupted us to earn our respect?
Random Drunk Hippie: Man...
At this point, he just sulked, angrily shooting us looks and sighing until some poor sap was unfortunate to sit down on the other side of him.

We had a little mishap with some bread getting burnt in the oven last night.
Amy, a waitress: Ugh...what the hell are you guys burning in there?
JT: The body of the last waitress who asked too many damn questions.

Last night, we ran out of a lot of toppings. Saturday was the second busiest day of the year. By the time I closed the kitchen, we only had enough dough left to make seven more pizzas, and were out of flour, so we couldn't have made more dough if we had wanted to. Brian told me to go ahead and shut it down early, since we weren't making much food anyway. People were mostly drinking and watching the Red Sox game.

JT: Thank you for calling the Village Idiot.
Random Drunk Girl: I'd like to place an order for delivery.
JT: Sorry, the kitchen closed down early tonight.
Random Drunk Girl: Oh...well, I saw online that you can order two large cheese pizzas for $14.99?
JT: Yes, but that special pricing is only available if you order online.
Random Drunk Girl: So I can't place an order on the phone and get that price?
JT: You nailed it.
Random Drunk Girl: Oh. Well, what is the regular price?
JT: They're regularly $10.45 plus tax.
Random Drunk Girl: Oh. Well, then let me just order a large pepperoni with extra cheese.
JT: The kitchen is closed for the night, sorry.
Random Drunk Girl: I'll come pick it up, you don't have to deliver!
(Yes, this is just what we need. Someone who is drunk enough to not grasp the meaning of "The kitchen is closed" to be on the roads.)
JT: It doesn't matter. The kitchen is closed entirely. I'm not making anymore food, regardless of if the order is for delivery, pick up, dine in, or for the Pope. No more food tonight.
Random Drunk Girl: Asshole.
JT: Have a great evening!

Also, at some point, Captain earned himself another nickname. He is now known as "The Main Event." None of us can quite remember why.

Hope everyone had a great weekend, back to the grind of the regular workweek.

JT out.

Friday, October 19, 2007


Oh...I thought you said "goats."

Below is a copy of an email I just received:

GhostControl ( to me
show details 12:59 pm (22 minutes ago)

Three houses in your neighborhood have had high amounts of spiritual activity. Our instruments show strange energy radiating directly from your home.

Please dont wait until it is too late!

Click Here to find out if your house is Haunted.


Click Here

Of course, I realize those odd noises in my house are predominantly caused by leprechauns, unicorns, and the occasional centaur. However, I have been hearing chains clinking lately, and short of my roommate indulging in some sort of dungeon fetish play, I have to suspect ghosts or an escaped convict.

Feeling it was my duty to my loyal readers to investigate further, I followed the link to see what I could find out. I was asked a series of in depth questions, such as my city of residence, if I had recently broken a mirror, if I found that things were randomly missing from my house, and if I would like another beer (okay, I made that last one up, but I would like one, thank you very much.)

Then, at the end, I was asked to enter in my cell phone number and they would text me the results...for $9.99 per month...maybe in case my house isn't haunted this month, but the Ghost of Christmas Past shows up in 8 weeks or so?

Thanks anyway, I'll just make a deal with the centaurs to keep the ghosts at bay, and ask my roommate to keep the chain clinking to a minimum next Tuesday (We have a carefully orchestrated fetish calendar at our house. Wednesday is reserved for Melissa and I to engage in costume play. I get to dress up as Cinderella this week, and she's my evil stepmother. Could get kinky.) Enjoy the weekend, and feel free to share any haunting or fetish play stories in the comments section.

JT out.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007


Peeple r smrt.

Sometimes I am amazed at the ridiculous things people say. Actually, I suppose that "amazed" is no longer the correct term. I was amazed about 10 years ago, now I've grown so accustomed to people speaking before thinking that it simply amuses me or pisses me off, depending on my mood and the circumstances. Of course, working in a bar, surrounded by people who have been drinking, I probably am subject to some of the more ludicrous statements. In addition, I occasionally answer the phone and take delivery orders. We have a lot of drunk people calling late at night.

For lack of anything more creative to write (I'm truly exhausted these past few weeks, the working two jobs thing is starting to grind on me,) I choose to share them with you here.

On The Phone

JT: Thank you for calling the Village Idiot.
Random Drunk: ...yeah...Is this Carolina Wings?
JT: Yes...yes it is. (then I hung up.)

JT: Thank you for calling the Village Idiot.
Random Drunk Lady: Do y'all deliver to the Hampton Inn?
JT: Which one are you staying in?
Random Drunk Lady: I don't know. (holds muffled conversation with someone else) We're not sure.
JT: What street are you on, ma'am?
Random Drunk Lady: I have no idea. I'm from out of town. I can see the zoo. (No, no she could not. There is not a Hampton Inn anywhere near the zoo. Trust me, both my house and my old office are near the zoo.)
JT: Hmmm...I'm not familiar with that one. What else can you see out of the window?
Random Drunk Lady: Gilligan's. (There is no such place in Columbia. There is one about 15 miles away, in Lexington, my hometown, but not in Columbia.)
JT: Hold on for just a second, ma'am.
At this point, I handed over the phone to my boss's wife. We eventually figured out she was right downtown, next to Jillian's. We still have no idea what she thought was the zoo. Also, when our delivery guy got there, there was no one in the room. As he was giving up and leaving, an obviously drunk lady came stumbling down the hall with some ice. She apologized, explaining that she had to go get some more ice, because her beer was getting too cold.

This one I wasn't actually around for, but it's too good not to share.
Flip: Thank you for calling the Village Idiot.
Random Lady: Yes, could you please tell me what is in your pub?
Flip: In my pub? Well, we have a bar, tables, chairs, a few video game machines...(the lady cuts him off)
Random Lady: No, no, no...your pub. I want to know what is in the pub.
Flip: I'm sorry, I'm not sure quite what you're asking.
Random Lady: Well, let me make it simple. Your establishment is called "The Village Idiot Pizza and Pub." I know what goes into a pizza, I need to know what goes into a pub.
Flip: Ma'am, "pub" is another word for "bar." Just pretend we're called "The Village Idiot Pizza and Bar."
Random Lady: Oh.

At The Bar

Random Drunk Girl: It's my birthday!
E-Rock: Happy birthday! How old are you?
Random Drunk Girl: I'm 20!
E-Rock: You're going to have to leave.

Random Drunk Lady: Excuse me, you're the owner, aren't you?
JT: No, but he's around somewhere.
Random Drunk Lady: You sure look a lot like him.
JT: I've been told that. Other than him being a few years older and me having a beard, we do look a lot alike.
I get this a lot. Brian and I do look pretty similar (other than the beard.)
Five minutes, maybe ten pass...

Random Drunk Lady: You're the owner, right?
JT:: (still have a beard, haven't shaved at the kitchen...seems like a health code violation of some sort.) No, no I am not.

Captain: (A very inebriated co-worker of mine, off the clock and watching football). FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK! (He notices a girl a few stools down staring at him) Sorry, hope you're not offended by my language.
Girl: No, don't worry about it at all.
I was still in the kitchen at this point, but heard all of it and started laughing so loudly it could perhaps be called a "guffaw." Captain heard me laughing, knew he was onto a classic, and proceeded to yell "Dogshitballfarts" periodically for the next 4 hours or so. I laughed every time.

I have many, many more, but don't want to waste the time writing it all out if no one is interested. Also, I'm going to bed. Let me know if you want to see more of this!

JT out.

Friday, October 12, 2007


Red Handed

I don't often post anything political. Not because I don't care, simply because politics is one of those somewhat taboo subjects that easily offends people. If anyone is offended by this artwork...well...I don't apologize, because I feel strongly about the current administration and this sums it up.

I just ask you to keep an open mind. This is my little corner of the interweb, feel free to express yourself in yours. Keep it real. If it's donkey shows or sea monkeys that gets your gears grinding, have problems. Anyway. Ben over at Killer SandBox Productions, who you may remember from the ketchup commercial, has an artwork site up. Go check it out. Even if you don't necessarily agree with his viewpoint, he is a talented artist in several mediums, and at least he cares enough to have an opinion.

Enjoy the weekend, kids. I have most of it off, so I'm due for some much-needed rest and betting on football.

JT out.

Tuesday, October 09, 2007


Resistance is Futile.

Damnit. I've been assimilated. I finally broke down and got a Bluetooth earpiece for my phone. I've been spending so much time on my phone while driving with the new sales job that I decided I needed a hands-free piece to reduce the distraction while driving. I know I'm still running a risk, but it's kind of hard to make sales, place orders, and still have time to do everything I need to do without being on the phone while driving.

I wasn't planning on Bluetooth for two reasons. One, I thought they were fairly expensive. Two, I hate those jackasses that walk around in the grocery store/movie theater/office bathroom (not kidding on that one) using their Bluetooth just to try and look cool. I look cool all by myself, without any outside help. Stop laughing. All of you.

However, my boss and several other salespeople I know all recommended them highly. Then, when I arrived at Best Buy, this one was on sale for about $25.00. I think that's because it's blue and most people want black or silver, since the same model in black or silver was $50.00. Since I only plan to use this while driving, and don't care about appearance so much as function, I gladly paid half price for a blue one.

I hate to admit it, but I'm a pretty big fan of this little gadget. It works incredibly well, I barely notice I'm wearing it, and it's extremely user-friendly. It really does reduce the distraction of holding a phone while driving. Don't worry, though, you won't catch me crip-walking down the street flashing my Rolex and talking into my earpiece...yet.

Resistance is Futile.

JT out.

Friday, October 05, 2007


Peeber Update (finally)

First: We found out that Peeber is a girl. Her name is now Peeber Anne, which is a solid Southern girl's name. She only gets the full name action when she's being bad, which is 943% of the time (no, I didn't forget to put a decimal there, I mean 943.)

I know everyone (especially Bubba and the CDP) has been asking about Peeber for a few weeks. Unfortunately, I am slack and kept forgetting to take my camera over to Melissa's house so I could get pictures. Then it turns out that Peeber is really, really difficult to photograph. Everytime I would point the camera, Peeber would instantly move. It didn't matter how long a certain position had been held prior to the shutter opening, it was instantaneous action. So, after taking approximately 948 shots, I wound up with three that aren't blurry or of the top of a cat's head. Next time I'm giving Peeber some kind of sleeping pills before the photoshoot, or I may just set up some kind of motion-sensor camera and leave it running for nine days. That should generate at least seven or eight good shots.

This is one of Peeber's favorite activities, next to attacking your feet in the middle of the night when you need to use the restroom, or first thing in the morning when you're rushing to get out the door for work. Peeber likes to hang on the edge of the bed. This enables her to determine if we are awake or not. If we are awake, she will usually stare at us for a bit and then hop down. If we are asleep, she will climb on up and start licking my face and purring loudly in order to wake me up. This causes me to try to pet her, and then she bites my finger until I am wide awake. Then, when I am wide awake, she snuggles down on my chest to sleep while I lay there awake. In all seriousness, she does this and hangs there for several minutes at a time, and I think it's adorable.

She really, really likes to gnaw on my fingers. I think it has a lot to do with me working in the kitchen at the Village Idiot. I can never quite seem to get the smell of flour, garlic, and pepperoni off of my hands.

So, as you all can see, she is growing up to be a very pretty cat with a really long and fluffy tail. We think she's mostly Maine Coon, based on appearance and her exceptionally quick learning (she's already reading on a 10th grade level, and is fluent in Italian, which is a shame since neither Melissa or I speak it.) As much as I hate to admit it, being a predominantly dog guy, I do love this bad little kitten.

Enjoy your weekend!

JT out.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007


That's My Girl!

Yet another short video post. In this one, my roommate Kyle adopts his alternate personality of "Toby," and my girlfriend demonstrates her drink making abilities. I finally have new pictures of Peeber, so expect a Peeber update tomorrow or Friday!

JT out.

Monday, October 01, 2007


The Evolution of the High Five

I know I'm doing a lot of video posts recently, but I've been meaning to post a lot of this for quite some time and just now found the time to do the editing and put a few of them together.

This one is aptly titled The Evolution of the High Five. I believe Shawn and Kyle came up with this idea about a year ago, and it has just evolved and gotten sillier over time. Probably because of the beer. Now, without further ado, I present...

JT out.

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