Tongue Tied Tim

I’m going to eat a Sloppy Joe for lunch today.

FACT: the Sloppy Joe was invented by a drunk named Joe in the 1850’s. His Original recipe, by accident, included vomit and a stale piece of bread he found on the bar room floor. The town folk used to say, “ohh no here comes that sloppy Joe, he is disgusting.”

Over the years, Joe would eventually get clean and rename his invention, the Manwhich. With the help of monkeys (his only friends left), who would throw the mix against the walls like poop, Joe found the perfect blend of meat, sauce, monkey drool and lead paint from those kitchen walls; he would go on to become rich and famous. not for the sandwiches; no, those made people go crazy due to all the lead. he became rich and famous for being the guy who invented the scrunchy.

Tim: Just watched men’s figure skating, women’s half pipe and the women’s downhill between the flag thingies. haha, I’ll watch any sport the Americans are competing in. Country pride; giving straight guys an excuse to be able to watch men in sparkly tights with mullets dance around on ice.

Coco: I remember back in the day when you were obsessed with obtaining Olympic gold as a male figure skater. You trained for years at the Clackamas Town Center with Tonya Harding as your coach and mentor and became devastated when the mall eventually removed the ice rink. You were good Tim….you were really good. Wish you would have stuck with it and you too could have stood on the podium at the Winter Games. Your mother and grandmother designed some really great costumes too. My favorite was the fairy costume they created for you in your moving tribute to the film “FernGully: The Last Rainforest.” Perhaps you should use your skills to find a second job as a trainer for a young protege. After all…there is a little Tim in all of us….isn’t there?

Tim: Sadly, it’s all very much based on semi truths and the dreams of a teen with a broken heart. But seriously, after all I did for you and how I covered for you in the tenth grade for that one thing you did – you still go and out me. It’s okay, I’ll keep my side of the agreement and never tell what you did to that entire troop of boy scouts.

Brad: Don’t worry, The Tim Winter, if masturbating your bosses to get ahead were an Olympic event, you’d have platinum by now.

Tim: Look Brad! I thought that was standard practice in Los Angeles’s corporate world; it seems to be the best way to get ahead in the Hollywood movie business. Oh, speaking of which!!! thanks for getting me that work on that film….did you rally think I would be okay with holding the boom mic on a set for gay bondage porn? My ears are still ringing from hearing the words Jamaica Bobsled Team…which you probably think is the safe word but it was NOT!! Apparently it is a new sexual position they invented.

Jenn: This entire conversation has been eye opening. I’m learning things about Tim that he clearly wanted hidden. Hidden like his love for Johnny Weir’s tight ass.

Brad: “Boom mic”? Is that what they call it now? The Tim Winter, you fool, I told you the film was “Bobbing for Big Bob,” not Bobsledding… and I told you, “If you wanna get HEAD in Los Angeles, suck up to the Boss,” not “ahead.” You need to get your hearing checked! And Jenn, if you check The Tim’s closet, you’ll find a huge collection of Weir’s outfits. They’re right behind all those vertical-striped shirts and Tom Cruise.

Tim: I happen to be wearing one of those vertical stripped shirts right now; underneath that, I’m wearing a bright green sequence jumpsuit in support of all those skaters

Jenn: Oooo….I can’t wait to see that tonight. I’m not sure if that’s sexy or not.

Coco: Tim didn’t always shine as a solo performer, he did have a partner for a brief period of time, his brother Peter. The entire mall stood up and cheered as they skated to “My Heart Will Go On,” the love-theme from TITANIC. Their clever use of throws and triple sow-cow, double toe-looped combos really got the crowd going. However, it wasn’t until Peter hoisted Tim high into the air (by grabbing his taint) and Tim shouting “I’M KING OF THE WORLD” that the routine really became a winner. You two should go on a reunion tour.

Jenn: I would financially back a reunion tour if only to see the hoisting via the taint.

Brad: Useless Trivia: Peter hoisted The Tim Winter in the air via Tim’s crotch. That explains Tim’s unusually high-pitched voice when he screamed, “I’m the king of the world…” …because The Tim likes it that way. BTW, I loved how Plushenko kept blowing out his snot during our national anthem.

Jenn: He’s a class act!

Tim: It was a shame when I put on my freshmen 15; Pete was never able to throw me the same. Conor you know I used to wear padded tights so really I could barely feel his thumb in my butt. Here we go again, Conor, always exaggerating the truth. Brad, how do you know how I like it? did your mom tell you? I want to grow my hair like Plushenko, it’s sweet!

Brad: Uh, Tim… my dad told me. and Plushenko must die

Tim: …and… scene

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Continued from Petite Man (part 1)

Junior (part 2)

When I arrived at the bar I quickly scanned the room to see if my date was there. I didn’t see anyone sitting alone so I took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. I decided to keep a tab open hoping that my date would pick it up at the end of the night. After 5 minutes or so of getting anxious and excited to meet this guy he arrives at my side. Instantly disappointed… I’m not trying to be harsh it’s just that I think I was hoping for something (or someone) stunning and he was just a normal dude. We relocated to a table and he proceeded to ask me the usual first date questions. The conversation somehow turned to my recent psychic encounter. As I was leading up to telling him about the psychics predictions, I felt that I should explain to him that I had not been in a relationship in 4 years and didn’t feel like I had any issues to discuss but the psychic brought up my upcoming marriage on her own accord. Before I could even finish my sentence, the guy chimes in, you haven’t been in a relationship in 4 years and you don’t think you have issues (insert very judgmental tone)? Ummm, Fuck you, asshole, it’s a choice. Anyway, he was totally into the psychic stuff and wanted to know how I got to a “place” where I would seek out a psychic and believe in it. He told me that he went to psychic conventions in Arizona with his aunt and uncle and a bunch of other weird shit that I forgot the second after he told me. He also said that before the date he was feeling pressured and anxious thinking that I may be his future and wondering what our kids were going to look like, etc. Whoa! What guy talks like that? And especially on the first date? He then went on to tell me how he’d like to buy a home soon but what’s the point unless he has a family to fill it with.

I steered the conversation to a different path and asked him what he prefers to be called (since his voicemail says one thing, Sam calls him something else and his email says another). His name is James Johnson Jr. After a bit of prodding he finally told me that he prefers to be called Jimmy or Junior. Now, if he were 12 years old those names would be perfectly fine but he is twenty fucking eight and apparently wants to get married and have babies ASAP so he should think about making the switch to something slightly more appropriate. Can you imagine calling out Junior mid orgasm? Fuck me, Junior, fuck me! The thought of it is actually revolting.

I decided I’d have two drinks with him–since that seemed like the polite thing to do–and then call it a night. When the waitress dropped off our checks he did not even offer to pick up the 2 fucking beers I had. So, I drove all the way over to his neighborhood and paid for my own drinks? As we were walking out I started to walk one direction and he another. He stopped me and said, no this way. I laughed thinking that I was just confused and he was going to walk me to my car (because I had told him I walked through a dark alley in the rain to get from my parking space to the bar and also because its just what a man should do) but no… we walked to his car. He hugged me goodbye and neither of us made any mention of a second date or calling. I felt relieved to be getting out of there without any strange goodbye.

Later that night Junior text me this: Hi Laura, I enjoyed sharing a beer and conversation with you, thanks again! I hope you have a lot of fun this weekend! You’re a good hugger too J Take care. My response was this: I am a good hugger.

This boy and I had nothing in common. He is an only child and I come from a large family. He went to prep school and I’m basically trashy with a classy exterior. It was never going to work…

Ironically enough, Junior has a friend who knows my girl, Emily. They spoke about our date the other night and it turns out that Junior says talking to me is like pulling teeth…or its like pulling teeth getting me to talk. Whatever, you get what I’m saying.

A Petite Man (Part 1)

Times have been tough lately so my girlfriend, Sam, offered to set me up on a date with her boyfriend’s friend. Since I haven’t been out on a date in a while, I agreed before I even heard anything about the guy. I should have said no when Sam used the word petite to describe him. Uh, what the hell does that mean? Am I going out with a midget? Or is this a really tiny guy who will inevitably have a really tiny wiener (I mean, come on, guys are typically pretty proportionate). I’ve had my fair share of tiny wieners so I’m not looking to get involved with another one. In fact, a few weeks ago I told some friends, I don’t have sex with a guy, I have sex with their dick… Now I know that sounds awfully slutty of me, but in my defense, I was fairly intoxicated at the time and I’ve become much less promiscuous in my old age so I may just be all talk.

Anyway, back to the petite man… I saw a picture of him on facebook and thought he looked alright (but who doesn’t in their profile pictures??). I told Sam she could give him my number. A few days later Sam told me that her friend remembers meeting me at a Christmas sweater pub-crawl. Fucking great. I was in rare form that night. I spent most of that night pounding pitchers of PBR and chasing around a sailor who was home on leave for the holidays. Toward the end of that night, I puked in the bathroom of the bar and managed to get the sailors number from a mutual friend. I text the sailor this message at 3am: I want you to come with me to St. Johns. I want to get naughty with you in my bosses house, in her room, in her bed. I’m going to put it all out there and if you’re not cool with that, then fine. But why leave any mystery to what I want (Note: I happen to be house-sitting for my boss who lives a solid 30minute drive from where we were drinking). Unfortunately I never saw the sailor again this Christmas… but that’s not the story we’re talking about. So the petite fellow remembers me like that and still wants to go on a date? Hmm… OK.

For some reason the petite man wanted to go on a double date. Now, I’ve been on a few blind dates and they can be pretty awkward (especially when you decide to meet at a bar and you walk in not knowing if they are there yet and then your mind starts to race about whether you should walk around the bar looking for someone sitting alone and if so how much time do you spend looking or if you should just go up to the bar and order yourself a drink then coyly look over the top of you drink while you pray to God that the guy wearing a jean jacket who just walked in is not your date) but this seems rather junior high to me. After several failed attempts on Sam’s part to coordinate the date via email, I got tired of all the bullshit and hit reply all that the petite fellow could call me if he wanted to meet me for a drink. Sam is constantly giving me dating advice; telling me that if I want to get a guy I need to act less interested and more reserved…clearly I don’t follow her advice very well so I was pretty sure she was not going to approve of my email. Later that day the petite man called me and suggested we meet at a dive bar near his house later in the week. I was hesitant but excited after our phone conversation. He sounded really sweet and confident and most importantly, he laughed at my jokes. The week before, I had gone to see a psychic for various life reasons and she told me (with a great deal of certainty) that I was going to be “settled” with a partner (assuming she means a man) within two years. In the back of my mind I kept thinking that this guy could be him. I felt very unsure about that possibility. I mean, I wanted to have some consistent, meaningful, ridiculously awesome sex but I wasn’t sure if that translated into me having a husband. I knew that I would just know instantly if he were the one the psychic was referring to… continue to Junior (Part 2)

Tim: I’m at my new job literally right across the street from my old job. IB peeps, I can see you, come wave out the window. Ohh and yes we have a ping pong table too — and a pool table — and an xbox — and a tv — free sodas.

Brad: Very funny, Tim. And do you also get a personal testicle washer?

Pat:Your life is like the movie “Momma’s Boy”

Tim: I’ll never play any of them but i will drink some soda. the office is nice. i’ll post pics when I can. the floors are carpeted in furs from endangered animals, the walls are wallpapered in $100 bills and everyday there is a five o clock free crack giveaway. and yes Brad, there is a bathroom attendant to wipe my butt. well, when I become salary. i still have to wipe until then.

Brad:I said “testicle washer,” you idiot. They already have butt-wipers here at IB.

Tim: I only let a few people touch my testicles — I am making Jenn watch a training video, a safety video before I let her even look at them let alone wash them in her mouth.

Brad: Jenn? But Tim, I thought she had “TGIF” tattooed on her mouth. (Toes go in first.)

Tim: Turds go in first

Brad: Oopps, my brad

Tim: My “brad”? really is that your new catch phrase? You know, mine is “you can’t spell Tim without tmi.”

Brad: It’s an old catchphrase. I use it whenever I feel like it.

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Tim: I wore deodorant for the first time in a few months – seriously – when I ran out last, I stopped buying it. I never smelled bad at all when I did not wear it. It was only because of my new job that I bought some. The junk made my armpits smell bad. I think I’m just not going to use it. Damn society telling me that’s wrong.

Sara: Next time buy men’s deodorant. Women scent on men just don’t go right.

Matt: Thai crystals are a new-age hippie scam!

Jenn: I didn’t want to hurt your feelings but…..

Tim: Jenn? seriously? no way you wouldn’t have said anything…plus I know i did not smell.

Jenn: You didn’t smell. I would have said “Dude. You stink.” You totally didn’t stink.

Tim: Except for that night i pooped the bed.

Jenn: We agreed never to speak of that again.

Matt: Pooping in bed is a great way to get rid of people you never want to see again.

Jenn: I think that might be what he was going for…yet I’m still here. I guess I’m not too great at taking all the massive hints.

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Tim: Only day 8 of my new job and I worked over time. I know some special little lady that is going to be able to super size it on Valentine’s Day.

Plain Jane: LOL! Oh shit… that was funny

Jenn: You can’t super size it at Costco….

Jenn: At least not at the “restaurant” anyway.

Plain Jane: Oooh, is he taking you for the $1.50 dog and soda combo? That sounds awesome. I wish I had a valentine : (
On a side note, I was thinking you guys should come to PDX for a visit…and soon.

Jenn: Well….Friday night he took me to Costco for a weiner and a Coke. It was a night full of weiner. We ate in the car, in the rain. The gentle tap, tap of rain on the roof; the pungent odor of mustard filled the air; the cloying scent of relish wafted upwards; the windows fogged as my mouth wrapped around my weiner(s). Swoon. I’m not sure he can top that on V-Day. ; )

A PDX trip would be awesome! I need a vacay.

Rob: TMI

Jenn: Oh Rig – it’s your mind that went to THAT place. I was clearly referencing the delicious hot weiner at Costco. Although I can see how you might confuse that with Tim. ; )

Tim: It was a real hot dog cart in the car that night.

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Plain Jane: To celebrate Valentines Day, change your Profile Picture to you and your significant other. Tell how long you’ve been together! Almost 3 years together! 2 years as my boss

Plain Jane: And the rumor you might have heard — Its true. She took my virginity. I’ve been holding out on her for so many months I thought I’d finally give in.

Plain Jane:By the way, gay is the new straight.

Tim I think this whole idea is stupid. Haha, Jane is a liar; it was not Erin who took it, it was our mentally challenged neighbor down the street. She tried to convince us he wasn’t but we knew he was; all the Special Olympics medals hanging up in his room was kind of a give away. it was the start of a long line of retards that she would go on to date and bang.

Plain Jane: that is so horrible, Tim… but I had to laugh.

Ryan: Well I was going to put TO backup there but I decided not to. And ya Tim harsh! Nobody ridicules you for having sex with sheep, retards need love too!

Tim:That sheep said he was 18! dude! I’m never going to live that one down am I.

Ryan: Not a chance, but for a cheap price I will keep my mouth shut about the tranny? Oops

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Plain Jane: Look out Jennifer! You’ve got competition! With Tim’s new job now he can afford to buy himself this new woman. Roxxxy the Sex Robot

Jenn: I thought he was growing tired of me. He deserves better anyway. This sounds like the perfect replacement.

Tim: Duh Jenn! have you never heard of a three-way?

Jenn: Ummm….that’s what I was suggesting — Coincidentally, on KROQ this morning, they interviewed a guy that lives in LA that is legally married to a mannequin. He’s real and he’s real crazy.

Tim: Legally? that’s BS. The Gays can’t even marry in this state. wtf?

Brad: “Hines believes that Roxxxy is a step above other love dolls — the similar but mute RealDoll costs about $5,500.” Why pay $1,500 more for a doll to talk? I know guys who’d pay their girlfriends/wives to shut up.

Tim: good point Brad

Jenn: Apparently a judge in Beverly Hills married them. He moved to DC w/the mannie but people broke her legs off. Now he needs to fix her legs cause he’s currently carrying them around in her day bag.

There’s a little thing called a gagball Brad. Tim does that to me when we’re playing BadGirl. Oddly we only ever play BadGirl when the Ducks are on….

Tim: that gag ball was really a cat toy for your cats, you are the one who put it in her mouth one drunk night.

Brad: I think that Beverly Hills judge was a Winter — and I meant that in a good way.

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Tim: I’m finally getting my tune up for my Mac before the Apple Care runs out. Since I will likely not have a laptop for a week and I’m starting a new job, I won’t be around for awhile. In the mean time, Brad will be your go to guy for stupid status updates. Brad, don’t let me down. Good thing I have a GF right now, otherwise I’d be freaking out about not having access to free porn. She said if I’m lucky, I might be able to see a boob soon. and something about looking in the mirror.

Brad: You know, I’ve actually never posted a status message before. I’m just not half as witty as you, The Tim Winter. HOWEVER… I know Jennifer will try to fill your shoes.

Jenn: Fill his shoes with cat poop? Oh yes I can, and will, do that tonight while he’s sleeping.

Brad: I think human feces would be more appropriate.

Jenn: Well that could be tough. I’ll eat lots of fiber this weekend.

Brad: I didn’t say it had to be yours.

Jenn: Okay good cause I don’t poop. Girls don’t do that. Also, the Queen of England doesn’t fart. Tim does though.

Tim: I once pooped in an ex girlfriend’s shoes once. I guess I wouldn’t want to know what it would be like to be in her shoes. Ohh, God, that was a lame thing to say. But seriously, Jenn don’t poop in my shoes. You and your sick fetishes.

Brad: Tim, weren’t you the one who made murals with his own feces? Oh wait, that was me!




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