J.J. Dufresne Thinks The Porn-Watching Neighbor Is a Real Dumbass

OCONOMOWOC, Wisconsin (AP) -- A man says he broke into an apartment with a cavalry sword because he thought he heard a woman being raped, but the sound actually was from a pornographic movie his upstairs neighbor was watching.

"Now I feel stupid," said James Van Iveren, who has been charged in the case. "This really is nothing, nothing but a mistake."

According to a criminal complaint, the neighbor told police that Van Iveren pounded on the door and kicked it open without warning February 12, damaging the frame and lock.

"Where is she?" Van Iveren demanded, thrusting the sword at the neighbor, the complaint said. "Where is she?"

The neighbor told police Van Iveren became increasingly aggressive as he repeated the question, insisting that he had heard a woman being raped. The complaint said that, with the sword pointed at him, the neighbor led Van Iveren throughout the apartment, opening closet doors to prove he was alone.

The neighbor later played for police the part of the DVD he believed Van Iveren heard downstairs.

Van Iveren, 39, of Oconomowoc, was charged with criminal trespass, criminal damage and disorderly conduct, all while using a dangerous weapon, and is scheduled to appear in court March 5. Together, the misdemeanor counts carry a maximum sentence of 33 months in jail.

Van Iveren said Tuesday that he heard a woman "screaming for help," grabbed the sword, bounded up the stairs, kicked in the apartment door and confronted the man who lived there.

"I intended to hold it behind my back and knock. But I froze and instead, what happened happened," he told the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.

Contesting his neighbor's account, Van Iveren said he didn't look anywhere in the apartment except the front room, and that he never threatened the neighbor with the sword.

"I had the sword extended, but that was all," he said.

Van Iveren, who lives with his mother in the downstairs apartment, said he did not call police when he heard the noises because he does not have a telephone. He said he barely knew the upstairs tenant.

Police seized Van Iveren's sword, which he said was a family heirloom.

Sometimes JJ watches with mute on when he knows his neighbor is home for this reason precisely. Is it possible his paranoia has averted a similar situation? Perhaps in a parallel universe the Parallel JJ watches his porn without muting and is raped by his neighbor with a bowling pin. Then the Parallel JJ dies from collapsed lungs when the bowling pin reaches its maximum depth. Parallel JJ's body isnt found for a month. Parallel Marvin-the-Cat has resorted to eating the rotting remains of Parallel JJ. Parallel JJ's Mom would have to bury a sexually mutilated, half mummified, half eaten youngest son.

He thinks it proper to watch on mute.

An Open Letter to Nielsen Research Media

I would like to apply to become a member of the Nielsen family, mostly because I have been on a big Law and Order: Criminal Intent kick lately, and want to help kick up their ratings. D'onofrio kicks ass even if he fainted on set a few times because KERRY LOST (boo fucking hoo) anyway the show is on tuesday nights. And in a way to avoid my other responsibilities i decide to find something that's on right before Law and Order CI. What I've chosen is the show on NBC at 7:00, To catch a predator (i love the use of the 'to catch' as if its this romantic noble virtue. To kill a mocking bird? NO TO CATCH A PREDATOR!) anyway its the show where they catch those pederasts who reel in minors on-line and then make arrangements to meet where they have sex (rape). Anyway it's the show where they get a guy to come over and then a guy or girl actor gets the guy to come in and make some creepy remark and then out comes this Stone Phillips wannabe and starts embarrassing the hell out of the dude. It's totally sketchy and NBC should be ashamed of themselves for borderline setting these guys up but HOT DAMN is it funny seeing these low lifes get pinched. Another great aspect is how the producers thunk it a good idea to re-enact via voice over the e-mails and chat room messages between NBC and the unsuspecting pervert. hearing some older male voice actor say creepy things to a young female voice actor is great."Are you a virgin?""Kind of""I can help you with that you know."then the perv shows his cock and nuts via web cam.hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahaha. The actors are terrible, they should say it with feeling, instead they read through in monotone.

thank you for considering my application,

sincerely,
J.J. Dufresne

J.J. Says, "Heeeeeey There, Girlie."

"Want to go upstairs and take your clothes off?"

Continued Evidence of J.J. Dufresne's Class and Subtlety

Last spring Diana threw a Cinco de Mayo party. Usually I am the girl who goes to the bitter end of parties, a girl who will sit at the bar until close and then get talked into eating pie at the all-night greasy spoon down the road, a girl who will park her car on a side street when she's driving people home and will stay there until they have finished talking at 6 AM. But last spring at the Cinco de Mayo party, I did not make it to the bitter end. I was not there when the first-to-leaves left, and I was not there when the next-to-leaves left. I'd guzzled tequila like it was mouthwash, I'd picked up slices of tres leches cake with my hands, and I'd spooned a lot of salsa--even one that was labeled as the Sweet Christ! variety--into my mouth. That's enough to make a girl feel warm inside, like she needs to go somewhere dark and quiet with a boy.

And it's nice to know that when that happens, there's a boy like J.J. Dufresne around. A boy who will have my back. A boy who isn't the boy I've gone with to the dark and quiet place, but is the boy who, when someone asks, "Where's Jess?" will announce to the whole block, the whole city, the whole state of Minnesota that, "JESS IS NEXT DOOR GETTING THE COCK, OKAY?! THIS IS GOOD FOR HER. DO YOU HEAR ME? GOOD! FOR! HER!"

You just want to tell him, "Look, friend, everything's going to be okay."

There are times when J.J. Dufresne is made sluggish by depression. He thinks he’s a loser, a slacker, a jackass, an idiot. J. J. Dufresne knows he’s a mess. All the signs point to it: he drinks too much, eats too much and he smokes a lot of dope. His car is a piece of shit. He’s driving on fumes. His boxer shorts have holes in them. His mom and dad, on occasion, pay his rent and/or buy his groceries. He watches a lot of cartoons, movies, Twins games, porn. He understands why he does this, all of it, the booze, the dope, the wacking off, the hours sitting on the couch in front of the television, how it’s all a way to distract himself from himself, to put off self-loathing until self-loathing is inevitable, unavoidable, all that’s left.

One afternoon last spring, when J.J. went to see his doctor it was because he suspected he had an ear infection. But the doctor didn’t seem interested in his ear. Instead, the doctor wanted to know if he was hung-over. Well, yeah, J.J. told her. He was hung-over, but nothing too terrible. He’s had much worse hang-overs. “Hold out your hands,” the doctor said, so J.J. did, and then he saw what the doctor saw. The shakes. His trembling hands. He had the shakes. The doctor asked him a lot of questions about alcohol and his consumption of it. How much he drank, how often. She wanted to know if he thought he had a problem. He didn't want to say.

I didn’t know J.J. listed me as a reference on job applications until I heard myself telling bold lies about J.J. Dufresne’s work habits. When Christy from Human Resources asked me in what capacity do I know Mr. Dufresne, I said he was in my employment for three years. When Christy asked about the quality of Mr. Dufresne’s work, I said he’s innovative and he pays attention to detail, he gets the job done right the first time, though really, he’s more likely to be slipshod, slashdash, half-assed. He mowed some of our lawn that month we were out of town, but left parts of it overgrown, claiming those waist-high grassy places gave the dog a private place to poop.

When Christy wanted to know about J.J.’s weaknesses, I said he’s self-critical, he’s hard on himself, and that’s true, he is, which one reason why I’m not.

Go Forth, J.J. Dufresne. Be Fruitful. Multiply.

FIRST
i just sent in an application for a 6 month study to donate sperm once a week, up to $100-200 a week per each acceptable specimen. My specimens will only be worth about $5 bucks each but considering i've been doing my own study for the past 23 years (yes i started spanking in 2nd grade) i figure i might as well get paid for it. anyway, i'm going to be journaling it in a 'spank log'.


 

LATER
They shot me down. They don't want my guys. Probably took a look at the extensive list of chemicals, residue and chunks of god-only-knows-what floating in my system and said, no way can we in good conscience allow this guy to father any children. I guess instead of collecting specimens in a test tube i'll go back to collecting specimens in a towel, my spankerchief. I'm really bummed. I really wanted to do the study. oh well.

What Would Jesus Do? What would J.J. Do?

What would you do, not for a Klondike bar, but for the chance to swap spit with Jefferson James Dufresne?




I would give Estelle Getty a sponge bath but instead of a sponge, I would use my hands. I swear to God, I would, I really would.

What would you do? We, the Administrators of "I'm Just Drunk in Someone's Garage" want to know.

If Mamma Ain't Happy...

OK, Mamma says. I'm getting tired of being the only one commenting over here. What's wrong with the world?! Don't they understand the fabulousness that is JJ?

Mamma, we the Administrators of "I'm Just Drunk in Someone's Garage," both share your enthusiasm for all things Dufresne and understand your frustration. We don't get it, either: how can a world fascinated by Britney's trembling and hairless girl-parts (okay, fine, we looked at it, too), not share the same keen interest in a modern day Renaissance Man.





It's a mystery.





But we appreciate your spunk and devotion, your stubborn dedication, and thus are pleased to inform you that you, Mamma, have been granted NUMBER ONE FAN STATUS!

CONGRATULATIONS, MAMMA!!!

Sexy Thursday Time with J.J. Dufresne and Fan

And by fan I mean me. See how he's way more interested in the beer?

A Recent Email from J.J. Dufresne

If i were Bill Oefelein, that astronaut what got the love triangle going where the one broad astronaut tried kidnapping the other astronaut broad, if i were him i would pour a drink, smoke a jay, lean back in my seat, elbows up and out, fingers clasped behind my head and i would look down at my crotch and nod approvingly with the knowledge that my penis has wreaked absolute havoc and has received national attention for doing so. His penis has ruined many lives, his, his wife and family, the one in custody, her husband and family, the other chick and her husband and family. That nutjub wanted his dick up her butt so bad she was willing to kill for it. Christ. She's a doctor of science, too im sure.

Superbowl J.J.

It occurred to me today that I don't know if J.J. Dufresne likes football. I know the following things about J.J.:

1. He likes cats
2. He likes beer
3. He likes a glass of milk with his pancakes
4. He likes pretty girls
5. He likes baseball (an awful lot)

But I have no clue if J.J. Dufresne likes football, or if he was even remotely interested in last night's game, which I watched with my father, who was only half-interested. Today I wondered what J.J. did with himself last night. Did he sit home with Marvin the Cat and drink some beer? Did he go to a party thrown by some of his old-time friends? Did he eat as much pizza as I did? Did he yell You're fucking kidding me! at the TV screen? Did he go to bed early? Did he like the commercial that featured the talking monkeys? Or how about that one with the crabs? I bet he liked the one where the girls in tank tops sprayed each other with fizzy things: pop, champagne, and beer.

This is the way I like to picture it: There's J.J. He's in his apartment, and he's got a case of beer at his feet. He is balancing both Marvin and a beer on his stomach. He's got them angled so he can see through them, so he has a unobstructed view of the television.

A few of J.J.'s friends are over, too. They're in the corner. They've brought food. After all, they are charmingly Midwestern and they know the rules: don't show up empty-handed. They brought with them two bags of Doritos and a bottle of ranch dip. They are eating the Doritos out of the bag, but J.J. put the ranch dip in a bowl that has previously served as Marvin's water bowl. It's been washed, though.

I think the boys are rooting for Chicago, because that seems like the thing Minnesota boys would do when left to choose between Indianapolis and Chicago. They are very excited by the opening kickoff return. They make manly comments and grunt. Marvin twitches his nose when they grunt, because they are deep grunts that come from the stomach, which interrupts his resting spot.

When Chicago loses and the beer is gone, the boys talk about the commercials in a witty way. They make comments about the girls' breasts in the Go Daddy commercial. They say mean things about Kevin Federline. Then, because it's a Sunday night and J.J. has to go to work tomorrow morning, because he has to defend the American--and, more specifically, the Minnesotan--way of life, his friends leave early so J.J. can take out his contacts and feed Marvin and crank up the laptop for one more look at porn before he goes to bed, where he will dream about girls who wrestle in vats of ranch dressing, girls who call out J.J.! We love you! all through the night.

Feed Him And He Will Come

This is J.J. posing with festive cupcakes at a party thrown by Diana. There were miniature plastic babies inside these cupcakes. No foolin'. People loved them. Especially J.J.

Shirts

J.J. Dufresne is in my living room, keeping track of the Twins in their wildcard match against the White Sox while he pairs up his socks. Then he shakes out a tee-shirt that says “Knowing Is Half the Battle” across the front. He holds it pinched at the shoulders and flaps it smooth before he begins to fold it.

There is something meticulous about the way J.J. Dufresne folds a tee-shirt. First, he folds over each sleeve. Then he folds the bottom to the top. Then he folds it in thirds from side to side. Then he folds it in half again from bottom to top. By the time he’s finished, the shirt is about the size of a handkerchief. I’ve never seen a man fold like that before, so exact and precise, almost fussy. It will take J.J. almost forty minutes to fold a single basket of tee-shirts.

Watching him fold a tee-shirt that says “Pork Chop Sandwiches,” it isn’t hard for me to see J.J. as a little boy with a red pillowcase knotted around his shoulders, hanging out with his mom as a way to avoid getting caught alone with his brothers. Nancy Dufresne is folding a basket of laundry, and while her husband Ted rakes the leaves in the front lawn, and the big boys shoot hoops in the driveway, she shows J.J. how it’s done, how to fold up shirts nice and neat. Good job! she tells him. It’s almost suppertime in Cosmos, Minnesota, and Nancy has a hamburger-cheesy-macaroni hot dish in the oven. Earlier, she baked and frosted an angel food cake for dessert. Poop on your head and your brains! the big boys shout at the other, but Nancy and I don’t hear them. We’re telling J.J. he’s a good little helper. What a wonderful child you are! we say. Such a nice boy!

Grown-up J.J. sent me the following email:

tonight a bunch of us are going over to Tom's place (ex-roommate from DC) I think it is safe to say that his wife is out of town because we are going over to play 'guitar hero II' on his play station. she made him bring 'guitar hero I' over to my house because she wasnt into Tom's hard core rocking. have you seen the ads for this game? its the latest craze for 30 year old boys. two toy guitars you plug into the game and you play a bunch of songs. it's great. you can either play as a team or you can duel each other. also, next weekend my friend jodi is having a kegger with a 'rock and roll' theme. i cant think what to wear. the only thing i have now is to take a t-shirt and burn a bunch of holes in it and go as a fan who went to that Great White concert that burned and 100 fans died. you got any ideas?