Welcome to the Sep 1999 archive of Stream - you can click the planet to the left to get back to Jimbo's World if you're lost.

STREAM OF ^urine
CONSCIOUSNESS

• "The Everready Corporation does not support the use of drugs, sir/ma'am."
  'Scuse me?  Wanna explain how you came up with a "Pocket Trout", then?
• "We at Everready believe that the American people are mature enough to make their own decisions."
  Heh heh... yeah, I can see that.  Time to change the ol' bong water, though, isn't it?
• "I'm not at liberty to give out that kind of information, sir/ma'am."
  Oh, c'mon... I bet you guys give that all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet hell at lunch, don'tcha?  Yeah, that's what I thought.  Don't worry, Cheech, we won't spoil your ride.  Say, uh... you guys hiring?

or there's always the honest and well-informed answer, which
no telephone jockey is likely to be willing or able to give you...

"Um, sir/ma'am, you've never actually tried to staff a marketing
department, have you...?  At least they're not coke-heads."

The bad news is, there's nothing but a farewell message at Beeyotch.  Dammit. 

jimbo. i'm sorry, but your comment about me looking like marty mcfly's mom is totally hilarious. i broke out laughing when i read i, and i haven't stopped since. the funny part is that it's true!!!!!!! (the fact is that's the look i was going for--it was a sorority formal and i had a very 50's dress.) anyway, gotta go--my social calendar calls. just wanted to thank you for the laughs!

Hey, and that brutal social calendar of hers leaves a bit of time for email with the little people!   The life of a social butterfly and her friends is, apparently, somewhat less strenuous than previously thought...

"Hi, my name is Hunter.
Welcome to the Under
The Sea dance!"

Wow - that does look tacky,
but at least they're clean.

Let me level with you, GIRLS-- I would think long and hard before I wore white shoes under any circumstances. I mean, sometimes you have to, and I know that. The main thing that makes white shoes look tacky is that there are so many outdated styles of white shoes being worn on the streets of today's cities, and to make matters worse, people let them get dirty and yellow. There is just no excuse for that.

Hear, hear!  Just look at Nikki Steele over there - do you think she'd let her white shoes get all dirty and yellow?  Not on your life!  Unfortunately, it seems that Nikki missed out on the rest of Hunter's advice:

Nude ho's are tacky, white shoes are tacky, and together they form one of the tackiest combinations known to mankind.

Or was that nude "hose"...?  Ah, well.  While Hunter's graciousness and etiquette with "social inferiors" may need a bit of work, her knowledge of fashion is clearly flawless.

• The Jimbo that can be found at "hometown.aol.com" is not the true Jimbo.
• The Jimbo that misunderstands the function of the caps lock key is not the true Jimbo.
• The Jimbo that has NINE animated GIFs on his index page is not the true Jimbo.
• The Jimbo that has some gay-ass midi of "Great Balls of Fire" on his index page is not the true Jimbo.
• The Jimbo that has some gay-ass background wav on his index page is not the true Jimbo.

Not even if he sets the <title> tag on his page to "JIMBO'S WORLD"... including the quotes.  Dear god, the horror...!

Worse yet, cgi.dreambooks.com appears to be broken... which means that you can look at either my guestbook or Lisa's, but you can't post to either one.  And it means that pseudo-jimbo's goofy little sexual manifesto is the last thing visible on Lisa's guestbook.

Suck!

If you have a strong stomach, go visit the boy wonder at "Hometown AOL".  And please... don't forget to sign his guestbook.

note: the guestbooks are working again now, thank ghod... so go sign mine. =)

Anyway, there's nothing new to my longtime readers there yet - but if you're new and you haven't seen the old crazy Jedi pix, then by all means, rush on over and take a gander.  Don't forget to check back when I find the Blastmaster Jedi T one in a day or three; I think that was prolly the best one.

Oh yeah, I put a template page up where the Ask Professor Stoner Column will reappear... but there's no content there yet because you people still haven't asked any questions.  Sheesh.  G'wan, already... ask the Professor a question.  You know you want to.

There is necessarily a bit of tech talk in there, since we are after all talking about a web hosting provider, but it should be easy enough to follow even if you aren't technically inclined - I included quick descriptions of what the few tech terms I used mean.

If none of the above scared you off, then by all means, go get some.

Oh yeah... on a completely unrelated note, I know some of you folks use Netscape...  If you're one of those folks, could you please tell me if everything looks normal (tables work properly, no weird line breaks, et cetera), please?  Go ahead, drop me a line or sign the guestbook or something.  Thanks.

The sound quality is pretty crappy, and Howard Stern's obnoxious worthless ass keeps talking, but it's WELL worth the listen anyway.  If anybody can find a copy of this with better sound quality or no Howard Stern voiceovers, email me!

Oh yeah - if you're not used to scammin' MP3s, you should be aware that you'll need to rename the file once you download it... I made the file suffix ".lo2", so just rename it to ".mp3" and you'll be good to go.  And if you don't have an MP3 player (what the hell is wrong with you, anyway?) then go to www.winamp.com and get one.

Ate enough prime rib, at various points in the day, to lethally injure a full-grown cow if harvested directly.

Continued abusing the JetSki.

Shot a couple of games of pool, drank a couple of beers, ate some more prime rib.

Returned to abusing the JetSki.

Overnight camping trip on some crazy little island rained out, so everybody decided to "rough it" with 20 or 30 other crazy company types at the local Holiday Inn instead.

Abused the Jetski one last time before leaving.

Took two friends to the local Applebee's. Took two and a half hours to get served really, truly bad food. (One of us was "lucky" enough to get served in only one hour!) Got our own drink refills, as the waitress was refusing to go anywhere near our table, and the manager was refusing to emerge from the back no matter how many OTHER waitresses we sent back after him. Took great pleasure in informing the waitress - who only showed up, after two and a half hours, to deliver a check - in no uncertain terms, that the manager could apply the "employee discount" to our food all he liked, but that "I am not paying a thin dime for this."

Return to the Holiday Inn, after securing such overlooked necessities as dental floss and tonic water. Oh yes, and something completely useless but incredibly amusing that is made by the Eveready corporation - a "Pocket Trout." Yes, I shit you not, that's what it says on the box - "Pocket Trout." If you squeeze it, it glows. Wtf?   I had to make the purchase... decided that when I got home I'd give it to PeeT as a "souvenir."  (If anything, PeeT was even more amused than I was.  He took to carrying it around, holding it outside moving car windows and gleefully yelling "swim, pocket trout, swim!")

mandatory drug testing clearly needed at Eveready Corporation

Meanwhile, back at the Holiday Inn, I proceeded about the business of getting seriously intoxicated, in the room of the friends I went to Applebee's with...  Tony (one of the friends) got the bright idea that we should "make the rounds" around the other 20+ rooms the company rented. We began doing exactly that.

The grave shift desk clerk started to get noticeably fidgety and nervous as the group trudging from one room to the next every ten minutes or so kept gaining members. By the time there were 15 or so of us, he'd acquired a visible nervous tic.

Invaded an annoying person's room. Three people distracted him and his girlfriend while another accomplice quietly picked up the phone and ordered a 5AM wakeup call.  Sweet!

Proceeded to the pool area.  Stuffed so many people in the Jacuzzi that when we got out, the water level VISIBLY dropped...  Males who were jammed up close to attractive females in the Jacuzzi suddenly realized that semi-embarassing physical states can often be visible through wet bathing suits, and immediately jumped in the pool.   The women followed them.  Everyone suddenly realizes just how hot that jacuzzi was, and just how cold that pool is, and immediately gets the hell out... and women who jumped in that freezing-ass pool suddenly realize that semi-embarassing physical states are VERY visible through THEIR wet bathing suits.  Heh heh heh... =)

After going back inside and again frightening Milquetoast, our intrepid night clerk, the grand party dispersed like bad gas on a crowded school bus. Some people got together and partied a few hours more, others immediately headed for their own rooms and crashed. Eventually, unconsciousness reigned supreme - and, one presumes, Milquetoast breathed a ragged sigh of relief.

5:30 AM: the victim of last night's divide-and-conquer wake-up-call tactic retaliated by pounding on random doors and screaming. Unfortunately for said victim, almost everyone else was far too comatose to bother responding.  Grunting and rolling over was perhaps the most common reaction, closely followed by the "pillow-over-the-head" maneuver. Eventually, the victim gave up, checked out early, and departed.

9:30 AM: the rest of the miscreants begin slowly, erratically moving in groups of twos and threes to the Jacuzzi. Tony and I, who commandeered the Jetskis for nearly the entire day Sunday, seriously contemplated drowning ourselves in the Jacuzzi so we'd never be forced to leave it under our own power.

11:45 AM: the last of the bedraggled party survivors (me!) finally got done showering and packing and checking out. Groan... now all I gotta do is drive two hours home in a front wheel drive car with no power steering and a 2.5 turn lock-to-lock ratio, with arms like overdone penne pasta... auuuggghhhh

--------

I consider the weekend to have been a smashing success.

My officemate and I went back out to the CEO's lake house again the day before for a meeting and some beers, and stayed the night to go to the local office's sales meeting and go for a ride in his ludicrously overpowered tunnel-hull boat.

Only problem is, the boat's got two-cycle outboards - you have to mix gas and oil, 40:1 - and he'd run it almost dry before he refilled it.  And WHEN he refilled it, he wasn't thinking about it and he dumped better than a full gallon of oil in an almost empty tank and then put all the gas in afterwards.  Unfortunately, oil is a LOT heavier than gas - if you put the oil in first, it's really difficult to get the oil and the gas to mix... in other words, when he started the motor, he put a slug of almost pure oil into it.  Whoops!  We wound up limpin' home on one engine at 15MPH. Suck.

So Friday after we got back from the meeting, he pulled the plugs - yeah, oil fouled as hell.  Cleaned 'em, stuck 'em back in - no dice. Pulled 'em again - fouled again.   He went through that three or four times, and finally said "well, hell, I guess I'll have to call the mechanic."

Who do you think jumped in there with a screwdriver and a couple of gallon oil jugs and saved the day?  Yeah, that's right.   I pulled the fuel return line, powered up the fuel pump and pumped out the first two gallons of fuel - which were almost all oil - dumped 'em back in the tank from the top, reconnected the return line, hit the ignition - and that puppy fired right the hell up.  Just picture me staring silently yet gleefully my CEO's $110K offshore racing boat, thinking "who's your daddy?"

The Talon Marine T-25... ahhhh, yeah.

After that, we spent the rest of the day zooming around the lake... and I do mean zooming, that bad boy is mean.  We dethroned the local kings of the lake (in a ridiculously overpowered bass boat) in a particularly humiliating fashion... saw 'em hauling ass across the lake doing about 75MPH or so (which is MOVING for a bass boat!), but because we were behind them at an angle, they couldn't see us.  We snuck up on 'em in a little passage through two islands where they'd had to slow back down to 30MPH or so... timed it so that they just noticed us pulled up beside them, a few boatlengths away, just as we were coming out of the slow zone.  We let them stay just a nose ahead all the way up to about 70MPH, where their acceleration was just at that stage of squeezing out those final, painful few MPH... and slammed the throttle home.  ZOOOOOOM, there went us at 100MPH with our hair on fire...  Life was good.

Information Systems Managers... they're not just for computers anymore. Damn that was a good day.

You kids can expect a chronicle of my final email communications with U2ME3 very soon, by the way... never have I seen such a cocksucking Nazi in all my days.  He's threatened to sue me if I make any of our communications public, but, well... the asshole doesn't have a legal leg to stand on anyway, so I fart in his general direction.  Keep tuned for more antagonistic goodness.

Also "soon to come": stories of my boat-fu, the first MP3 of the Week, some images most of you have already seen (the Blastmaster Jedi T and Darth Three stuff, to go in the new Images section), and... a rare, never-before-seen photograph of the elusive Pocket Trout.  Really.

Oh yeah, and dammit, some of you people better start asking the Professor some questions, since all of my old Professor Stoner content died in the great U2ME3 crash. =(

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