Nothing gives us bigger boners than concert lasers...

Earlier in 2007, Jonesy & The Wayne graced the fine people of Hoffman Estates with their presence by attending the recital of a fine group of whipper-snappers that perform under the moniker "Tool".

Now, first off, I think it should be clarified that I was under the auspice that we were attending a hardware trade show. Ticketmaster was NOT very clear in their description of the event. But, being the good sport that I am, I did not immediately demand to return to our vehicle and decided that perhaps a little culture is just what I needed.

Upon entering the venue, we were greeted with the words "Prepare to have your face melted, f*ckers!". The enthusiasm on display was encouraging. Although, initially I was a tad disappointed that we would not be treated to display upon display of the latest socket-wrenches and leaf-blowers, I soon settled into my seat and buckled in for the ride.

We made acquaintances with our section neighbors almost immediately. To our left, sat "Doug" an unemployed father of four. Tonight was Doug's 27th seeing The Tool. Directly, behind us sat "Roach" a young lad in his early teens accompanied by his girlfriend Britney. We immediately could tell that Roach was an experienced concert attendee because he even thought to bake cookies for the show. He offered a cookie to both of us and we happily obliged. They were quite tasty, albeit a tad "earthy" in flavor. But I was grateful for the snack.

Approximately another 15 minutes or so passed and the lights in the arena started to dim. The crowd began to roar. With a blast of bass and treble, the band took the stage and embarked on an onslaught of glorious rock sounds. Above the stage, a large projection screen dances with seductive imagery. And then the lasers, those sweet f*cking lasers, tickled my face. Seizure shmeizure. Give me more.

But then I lost it.

Somehow, and without much recollection, I have now managed to curl up into a sweating, nervous ball of paranoia. The arena is breathing, talking to me. It has literally come alive as it proceeds to mind-rape every lobe of my brain.

I look next to me. I'm not even able to recognize Wayne who stands only inches away. He's loving every minute of it and in my eyes is no longer my human friend but rather an evil gyrating swirl of hair. I'm all alone. Abandoned with my own insanity.

This goes on for hours. At least so I'm told.

When I finally come to my senses, I'm stumbling across a suburban parking lot. Clomping along to the shitty sounds of Daughtry blaring from the cabs of Ford F-150s. FEAR THIS window stickers as far as the eye can see.

I'm battered and weary. But much wiser. And now the biggest fan of The Tool Band. Ever.

Oh, and I also can't go near a Home Depot now without having flashbacks.

-Jonesy

Jonesy feeds the homeless this Xmas...

In doing my part for the community this year, I decided to spend Christmas Day feeding the homeless. Well, okay, true it was government-ordered community service but it's still the same in my eyes, so let's not split hairs here. Anyway, I bounce out of bed bright and early, and after a few chugs of the hair-of-the-eggnog-dog I'm on my way out the door and ready to spread some holiday cheer. I quickly realize it's about 7 degrees outside. To hell with this. I'm not ABOUT to stand outside all day scooping sweet potatoes onto paper plates. I don't care WHAT my parole officer says.

So, I climb into my van and head down the road with the BEST idea in the world.

I pull around the corner and see that the less-privileged have already started lining up in front of the rec center. It's cold outside. No one is happy to be outdoors. The sympathy is tugging at my heart.

I come to a screeching halt in front of the crowd of hungry hobos. I slide the door open and yell out with passion "Hop in f*ckers, we're going to Taco Bell!"

So, there I am cruising down Western Ave with a van-load of Chicago's finest transients. We've got Elvis' "White Christmas" blaring from the stereo and everyone is having a great time. Laughing and singing. A pint of Mint Ripple is shoved in my face. I proudly take a swig and pass it back. This sleigh is rockin', folks.

I yank the van into the Taco Bell drive-thru with authority. Soon, with military precision I'm shouting out orders...

"Stompy wants two soft tacos!" (everyone cheers)

"Milky gots to have a Nacho Bellgrande and a Mountain Dew!" (round of applause)

"Twigs needs a DOUBLE order of Pintos N' Cheese, my friend!" (hoots and hollers)

And I take it upon myself...

"Hell, a round of Meximelts for everyone!" (we are slapping high-fives, someone lights a joint)

I pay the lovely cashier and we're on our way. We drive around for an hour or so while everyone enjoys their meal. You can cut the holiday cheer with a empty beer bottle it's so thick.

Afterwards, I drop all my new friends off at the bus station and we exchange heart-felt goodbyes. A tear streams from my eye, knowing I was able to bring joy to those less fortunate this Xmas.

Total run time: less than two hours.

I'm back at my apartment in just enough time to catch "Christmas Vacation" coming on TBS.

Ahhhhhh. I'm so awesome. I can't WAIT to go to heaven. :-)

-Jonesy

Need your help! I accidently donated my water bong to the Salvation Army!

So, I was cleaning out some old junk the other day from my apartment. The boxes were really starting to pile up. Around noon that day the doorbell rang. I went to answer and standing on my porch was a young gentleman sporting a green uniform and a high & tight haircut. His name tag read "Lt. Colonel Grover Muhstird - Artillery Commander - U.S. Salvation Army". Out of respect I immediately snapped to attention and we exchanged salutes.

Colonel Muhstird quickly got down to business. He informed me that his platoon was in the area collecting items for "the Army's" Annual Holiday Christmas Drive.

As a proud citizen I told that I did in fact have some items that I wished to donate. And so I started handing him box after box of stuff that I had just recently pulled from the closet.

Proud of my duty to America, I waved goodbye to the Colonel as he continued down my street atop his armored Chrysler Lebaron.

Retreating back into my apartment, I began to realize that I had REALLY just given away quite a large amount of my personal possessions. I really got carried away.

Suddenly, my blood started to run cold as it dawned on me that one of the boxes I had given away contained the love of my life ... a five-foot glass water bong that I had named Chief Jay SmokeThunder

I quickly dash out the door and down the street, but the Salvation Army's convoy had already left the area.

So, I guess what I'm asking is this... if you live near a Salvation Army Surplus Store... can you do me a favor and peek in there and see if my water bong is sitting on one of the shelves. Or, if you happen to be a poor homeless person and they show up one day and knock on your cardboard hut/shelter and unload a huge pile of gifts for you ... can ya just check and see if one of them is Chief Jay SmokeThunder? I'd be willing to exchange for it. Like maybe a sandwich and some crack?

Best wishes this holiday season,

Jonesy

I have no idea who "Shawty" is but she's in every f*cking rap song...

I live near the West Side of Chicago, so by default I hear alot of the hip-hop. And the rappy guys on the songs are always talking to "Shawty". Is this the most popular girl in the world or what? She's mentioned on almost every single song these days. I mean the fellas must really like her because they are always saying stuff like how they wish she would bounce her ass on the "danceflo mo" and stuff like that. I wish people liked ME that much to put me in all of their musical recordings. I would like to be famous too, ya know. See! Just as I'm typing this a car drives by my apartment window and out of the speakers I hear a dude singing "Hey, Shawty, where you at cuz I wanna slap my (censored) across your face like a whiffleball bat". I mean, is this young lady getting royalties or WHAT? I'm pretty jealous.

-Jonesy

Today, I got into a knife fight with Bryant Gumbel (while I was wearing a bear suit) in downtown Chicago...

But it's really not that interesting of a story. I won't bore you with the details.

G'night,

Jonesy