1/17/07...

Okay here goes. Jonesy's Night 1/17/2007.

I go have a few drinks after work with some co-workers. I'm a little
tipsy by the time I make it home around 7:30pm.

I'm starving. So I order a BBQ sandwich from Hecky's (of all places)

Netflix came in the mail. Finally I get to see Talledega Nights. Life is good.

Come 8:30pm. Been an hour. Where the hell is my food?

Around 8:45pm I smell a weird burning plastic smell. I think the guys
downstairs must be farting around in the kitchen. I think I hear a
smoke detector going off but can't be certain.

8:55pm. Is that a fire truck on my street? They go into the
building next door and leave after like 5-10 minutes. Probably some
girl burnt her Lean Cuisine.

9:00pm. So, that was a fun little distraction. Where in the name of
Allah is my fucking sandwich??

9:05pm. I get a phone call. Strange number. I bet this is my
delivery guy. Lost or something. I am right. Problem is he
doesn't speak ONE SYLLABLE of English. He is repeating some
phrase over and over again but I can't make it out. All I do is yell
back (you're supposed to yell, right?) my address over and over. Are
you downstairs? I ask. We get nowhere. So I wait for the doorbell
to ring. Nothing. I go downstairs and check the front porch.
Nothing.

9:15pm. Another phone call from delivery guy. We do the same dance.
Our language barrier is like the fucking Great Wall Of China.

9:17pm. I call Hecky's and explain to them that I think their
delivery guy is trying to call me. Perhaps he is lost? I am not
angry I just want to make sure he finds my place. I mean, it's pretty
cold outside. They explain to me that he doesn't speak a word of
English OR understand a word of English. Great. I wait...

9:20pm. He calls back again. This time I spring to action. I have
to keep him on the phone and talking long enough in gibberish (to me
at least) so I can TRACK HIM DOWN OUTSIDE BY THE SOUND OF HIS VOICE.

Did I mention I am not sober at all at this point?

I step outside on the porch and I swear this guy darts over to me like
Jackie Chan on crack.

He is super nice and apologetic. I tell him it's no problem, welcomed
him to our country and tipped him well for his effort.

The sandwich was great ... Talledega Nights, eh, not so much.

-Jonesy

Can someone please explain to me what Mountain Glacier smells like?

Look, it's hard enough for a guy to spend more than a comfortable 37 seconds browsing the aisles of ANY drugstore... so why must companies make it so damn hard for us to choose a deodorant scent?

Spring Breeze? Arctic Blast? Sport??? How the fuck is "Sport" considered an adjective that describes a smell?

So, I've done the research and here are my findings. Each scent is followed by it's ideal situational usage.

Fresh = perfect scent for those "morning afters" when you wake up hungover at 8:17AM with an important meeting scheduled downtown for 8:30AM. No time to shower.

Cool Blast = excellent choice for those desperate evenings out on the town when you are determined to hook up at all costs. So horny you'd hump a mailbox.

Ocean Surf = a nice middle-of-the-road standby scent. plain and boring like everything else about your earthly existence

Unscented = when you just don't give a fuck any more. Life isn't worth it. who cares if you smell like an elderly immigrant's diaper


Next week, my article ... "Cologne: The Cute Counter Girl Lied To You...You Smell Like Ass"



-Jonesy