Where the hell I've been (two guesses... not hell.)

Hey,
I haven't forgotten this blog - I've just ignored it like crazy.
Anyway, this is what I've been up to: http://www.fayettevillefeed.com

Check it out.

Where the hell I've been (two guesses... not hell.)

Hey,
Just updating you on what I've been up to - http://www.fayettevillefeed.com

Road Trippin' 3, the Never Ending Story

Rhode to Nowhere: Part III
By James Johnson

Last time on Rhode to Nowhere: our heroes, writer James Johnson and musicians Manquillan Minniefee and Stephen Waters went on an impromptu road trip from North Carolina to Providence Rhode Island, taking with them only $200, musical talent and six of the largest balls this world has ever seen.
Now, the exciting conclusion:
For such a small city, Providence was brimming with eventfulness. So much, in fact, that I’m going to have to break this story down into concise, vague and unhelpful blurbs.

Day 1
Minniefee, Waters and I meet our new roomies, Rhode Island College students, Dan Baker, Dan Ferrell and John Birt. Before any real introductions can be made, the three students let us in on their plan to rid their apartment of a fridge that they can’t quite fit down the stairs.
“See, a cop came by and told us the fridge was blocking an exit, and when we told him that we couldn’t fit it down the steps, he said to toss it out a window,” Baker explained. “… that sounds like permission to me.”
Some celebratory fridge tossing pasta is prepared, friends are invited over, and finally the main event.
Ferrell, Birt, Minniefee and Waters crowd around the apartment sized fridge and squeeze it through the tight window opening on the side of their building. The usual hunk of metal sounds are heard, however an uninvited sound effect arises - “KER-KLASH!”
“There wasn’t any glass in that fridge,” said Ferrell, trying to peak out far enough to see what could have possibly made such a sound.
Soon enough the long arm of the law was called in (it didn’t have to stretch very far, being as their apartment is located directly across the street from a police station).
The men are given a nasty talking to by one cop after another (seriously, it was like every cop in town was forming a conga line outside), and even got a nasty ticket.

Road Trippin'

Rhode to Nowhere: Part II
I know you’re getting on in years, so let me refresh your memory … Last we spoke, I was engaging in the adventure of a life time (Gulliver’s Travels, Huckleberry Finn and Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventures all rolled into one), hitchhiking with two traveling musicians from North Carolina, to Massachusetts’ shriveled and deformed cousin, Rhode Island.
Sadly, Kerouac, I am not. The hitchhiking experiment was a failure. As it turns out, people are less likely to pick up three random strangers off of the side of a busy highway than I’d first suspected (shoulda left my murderous glint at home). So, I decided it was time to take the good old fashioned route - motorized vehicle … just like the pilgrims.
Initially I thought my musician friends, Stephens Waters (drummer, banjo player, man-beast) and Manquillan Minniefee (guitarist, silent film star, lothario), would appreciate my volunteering the use of my 1993 Toyota Corolla for the trip, but they looked at her as an uninvited pooper on the party that is their lives.
“Man, if you’d just kept walking a few more miles, we’d be having a real adventure,” complained Minniefee.
“Yeah James, you’re a wussy,” said Waters, only, he didn’t say “wussy.”
But once the boys saw what great time we were making, all complaints subsided, I.e., they fell asleep.

Alone On the Road (with two other guys)
After a couple of hours on the road, I too was dreaming of adventure on the interstate, unfortunately, I was driving on the interstate at the time. Having tried everything to keep awake, including opening a window, switching on the radio and punching myself in the face (had opposite effect), I decided a rest stop was more than called for …
Sleeping, driving, more driving, a lil’ driving and even more driving … You’ve got the gist.
What was amazing about the whole trip was the total lack of interesting things that happened during the drive. In fact, we only had to stop for gas twice!
It did get kind of interesting once we reached New York. See, driving through the Big Apple took skill, agility and cat like reflexes for those instances in which you would need to cut another driver off while simultaneously flipping the bird to some guy beside you. This was Stephen Waters’ domain (so said Stephen Waters).
What followed was a rollercoaster of tunnels, bridges and heart pounding speed - I’m pretty sure we almost died, like six different times.
Finally after an entire night and half a day of driving, we arrived in the Ocean City, Providence Rhode Island, now all we’d need was a place to stay.

HitchHiker Guide to Failing

Rhode to Nowhere
By James Johnson

Last November, on a lark, I agreed to accompany two traveling musicians on an impromptu road trip from North Carolina to Rhode Island. Two more random locations, I struggle to think of.
The mission? To get from point A.) to point B.), with only $200 between us, musical talent (of which I have none), and our wits (of which I have even less). The method? Hitchhike. Why? ‘Cause I’m a genius, that‘s why.
Before we get into the true brilliance of our plan, let me first introduce you to the sherpas to my hitchhiking journey, folk rock musicians Manquillan Minniefee and Stephen Waters.
Though just barely scratching 20 (guess who had to buy the booze), Minniefee and Waters claimed to be experienced hitchers. Hitchhiking, after all is among the most cost effective ways for them artsy types to travel, besides just being cool.
--
Disclaimer: Hitchhiking is not cool! It is reckless and dangerous, not unlike smooth tasting cigarettes, European sports cars and sex … all of the terrible things in life.
--
Still, despite their experience, both Waters and Minniefee admitted that this would be among their longest hitches to date. Much of Waters’ experience was actually in train hopping.
“I’ve probably train hopped six or 10 times when I was a kid, just to get to a bigger city,” said Waters. “I think you would have never made it on a train, and we would have been in mad trouble … ‘cause you would have died.”
“Yeah, then we’d have to get rid of your body,” Minniefee added helpfully.

It Begins

We left early in the morning so as to give ourselves plenty of day light to work with, and were dropped off by a friend at a gas station just off of highway 95. Naturally, we dressed to the nines. A hitchhiker, you see, is part salesman (the product being his or her company), and as such, should look presentable and provide a pleasant odor.. Preferably “new car smell.”
We also carried a sign written on a piece of cardboard which read “Providence, RI. We’re nice, I promise.”
Sadly, no matter how friendly our smiles, how charming our sign, or how much leg I exposed (should of shaved), the rest stop we’d been dropped off at was proving to be a lost cause.
Finally, Waters concluded that the location was not an active enough rest stop to insure us a timely pickup, and decided to make a change in our strategy.
“Lets just walk to the next exit and see if we get any better results there,” said Waters. “Maybe if we get lucky someone driving down 95 will pick us up before we get there. It’ll probably only be like a mile or two.”

16 Miles Later

I learned a lot during this magical trek.

Mile 2: Walking makes me cranky. And by “cranky,” I mean I used expletives that I wasn’t aware were a part of my vocabulary … Apparently I‘m fluent in Spanish.

Mile 4: Stephen Waters walks at about the same pace that I run. I mean my God, half the time the only way I was able to communicate with him during the walk was by calling him on the phone. No joke.

Mile 7: It is now too dark to read our sign and too cold to stop walking. I have learned to hate my sherpas. Their stupid optimistic smiles, their dumb happy-go-lucky attitudes, their idiotic insistence that we do not give up and build a new life along the edge of the interstate highway. We could build a house out of abandoned truck tires and burn my clothing for warmth!

Mile 12: Though Minniefee and Waters seem virtually unaffected by the walk, my feet are now sore and bloody, my head light and my pace staggered. Though weak, I hope to catch up with Minniefee, so that I might hop on his back and ride him the rest of the way. The world is my pony.

Mile 16: Suddenly something occurs to me - “I own a car!”

A 1993 Toyota Corolla, to be precise. We rest briefly on a bridge as I begin making phone calls to arrange a ride back home, so that we can instead drive to RI, using the power of modern technology. The money we had would easily cover the cost of gas and toll booths. The only problem would be making enough money while in RI to get us all safely home. But that’s a story for another day … Hint: As of this writing, I am no longer a car owner. Why? ‘Cause I’m a genius, that‘s why.

Web contraption gets new cog!

The other week I hinted that there would be an announcement (by saying “there will be an announcement.” Subtle, I know) and I am a man of my word.
Introducing: www.humor-column.com
That’s right, I’ve got one of those .com type deals. We’re legit, son!
Naturally, I spent much of today celebrating this news in the usual way, but after an hour of banging on pots and pans whilst blasting “the Jeffersons” theme song, I remembered that, with a great domain name, comes great responsibility.
A good professional website deserves a halfway decent professional blog, which means, no more farting around (this includes using terms like “farting around”). Expect a new column soon.

Now, where’d I put those pots and pans?

First rule of lesbian fight club ...

Small update to vent a minor complaint.
This afternoon I noticed a headline reading "Lindsay and Sam Start New Years With a Huge Lesbian Fight."

Ahem, ahem... WTF (parents, ask your kids what this means ... better yet, don't)?!

I really could give two sh*ts (count 'em, two) about Lindsay Lohan and her girlfriend, DJ Sam "What's-her-face."

For one, "DJ" will never, in my mind, qualify as an actual job title. It's up there with birthday party magician, and well - blogger.

But my gripe isn't with Sammy, but rather, the jerkass who tossed together that headline ... Yes, lesbians are pretty awesome, no one is denying that, however, unless their fight was on the topic of whether or not Ellen DeGeneres is actually a lesbian, or merely an effeminate male (et al. David Spade), or anything else directly lesbian related, there is no reason to refer to it as a "huge lesbian fight."

If Will Smith and Jada Pinkett-Smith were to have a big public brawl, would the headline read, "Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Engage in a Big Blacktastic Battle For Kwanzaa!"?