tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372018362024-03-07T11:00:05.746-08:00I'm Just Drunk in Someone's GarageThis blog is devoted to one man and his peccadilloes, a man of vision and of grace, a man who knows and does not know, a man who dares to think big and live small. His name is J.J. Dufresne. These are his sins and his joys, his crimes and his good deeds. This is his life.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-23385346374508234432007-10-08T09:05:00.000-07:002007-10-08T09:06:51.887-07:00A recent email from JJ Dufresnei'm growing out a mustache for halloween. i dont know what i'm going as though. maybe a pedophile. any ideas what i can do with a mustache? actually i'm growing it all out but will shave into whatever i can salvage from the thin scattering that is my beard. maybe i'll go as a cancer vicitm, cancer of the face.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-46704296854341171822007-07-12T19:36:00.000-07:002007-07-12T19:49:00.942-07:00JJ and his friend Pete got all wasted out at the bar. Pete ended up crashing on JJ's couch. The next morning they peel themselves out of the apartment and go to breakfast. At breakfast they chug down some coffee and eggs. During the meal Pete excuses himself and goes and takes a big dump at the cafe. While he's gone JJ gets a text message saying that there is pot available if they want it. <br /><br />They do. <br /><br />They make arrangements to go over to the dealers place because the liaison who informed them of the stuff was out of town. JJ has met the dealer on a couple of occasions. She's a fun cute hippie chick. On the drive over JJ complains to Pete that he has to shit something fierce, so bad in fact that he is getting a cramp in his colon and it hurts really bad. Pete responds that he has to shit again. They both have to shit really bad, yet they have to do some business across town before they can pay any attention to our intestinal needs.<br /><br />They pull up to the place and go in. The dealer says hi and they say hi and then Pete asks where her bathroom is. She tells him. While he's gone everything gets portioned out and the deal goes down. Pete is gone for quite a while. Ihe dealer and Pete make small talk. Then ben emerges and they leave.<br /><br />Fast forward to this past weekend. JJ gets a text from the liaison and he says that the dealer says that Pete broke her toilet when he shat at her place. The liaison says dealer is quite upset.<br /><br />So JJ's question is do you think this will hurt his prospects of getting another sack from this chick? He isn't the one who shat in and broke her toilet, Pete is. Of course JJ is the guy who brought the guy over who shat in and broke her toilet but why should he pay for that? He did none of the shitting and none of the toilet breaking.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-59914885833457993082007-07-09T14:03:00.000-07:002007-07-09T14:15:06.522-07:00Yesterday JJ went on this run (a chick has agreed to have a few beers with him so he decided to tighten up his flab as much as possible before the date.) So he goes on this run, he's choosing new routes, this one is a little more hilly and therefore he's probably burning up more fat, hooray.<br /><br />It was stormy here yesterday and the wind was blowing all hard and there were branches all over his route. He had gotten high before he left his apartment (it helps you forget that you are running and it doesnt seem so hard of a task.) He made a game of timing his steps to land on the branches and twigs scattered all over just to get that satisfaction of hearing and feeling that "snap" under his foot. He got to the this park at the end of his route and decided to go walk through, sit down and rest before turning around and running back. As he was climbing a hill at this park he noticed there were even more branches down here on account of the more trees and he realized that this is a kid's dream stick-gun shop. There were branches everywhere and it couldnt take a kid long to find those sticks that have the perfect break and look like guns. <br /><br />When JJ was a kid he'd pack up a giant artillery. Of course he had a couple plastic toy guns but a lot of the arsenal was made up of stick guns. He remembered putting two in each sock, a couple in a tattered old back pack, two stuck in his waist and then carrying a branch just as tall as he was that he could barely even lift. He was fucking ready for WWIII. The town where he lived was redoing their power lines so JJ and his friends had these deep, long trenches to fight each other in. <br /><br />The simple rules of war back then were as follows:<br /><br />1. You have to be honest if you got shot, if someone claims they got you, they most likely are correct and you have to fall down and count to 25 before you could become a new guy and get up to help fight the warfront.<br /><br />It was a magical time. if you weren't playing guns and saving the day with your buddies you were playing guns by yourself, you were the commando sent in to save the president's daughter who you just knew was going to fall in love with you.<br /><br />Back at the park, JJ decided he was going to find the coolest stick-gun and bring it back home. But once he started looking, he noticed that none of the branches and sticks had the look or shape of a gun. Sure, there were a few that he could have redesigned and formed a stick-gun, but he wanted the ones offered straight up by nature. And he couldnt find one. His past experience told him that it should have only taken a few minutes to find a stick-gun. But there really werent any around. <br /><br />JJ promised himself he wouldn't go home without a stick-gun.<br /><br />He searched that fucking park for a good twenty minutes and found nothing. No pistols, no rifles, no big cannons. Nothing. <br /><br />Then he walked down the other side of the hill and saw this little garden fountain area near the park with a few more trees. He decided to search there. Nothing. It was really pissing him off. And that's when he saw the fucking sign for the park. <br /><br />"Lyndale Park Peace Garden"<br /><br />Fucking hippies. JJ blames this all on them. Their anti-gun lobby has wormed its way into mother nature via the vast left wing conspiracy of global warming. JJ's inability to find a stick-gun is all because of hippies and their global warmings. <br /><br />This really pissed him off so he just turned around in front of the peace garden sign and ran back home. He still had his vow to pick up any stick-gun he saw. But there was nothing, and as he brooded over how much he hates hippies, he was distracted by a couple of kids playing out in their front yard. A ten year old girl, an eight year old girl and a three year old boy just chasing each other around their small front yard. Their dad was sitting on the steps watching them. <br /><br />And that's when he saw it. <br /><br />On the yard a few feet away from the dad is a perfectly shaped stick gun. JJ broke his vow, he didn't run over to the stick, snatch it up, and take it home. He just kept going.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-48522099515058578582007-06-30T17:33:00.000-07:002007-06-30T17:34:30.645-07:00JJ RETURNS!!!He had this to say:<br /><br />I just went and took a piss. As i opened the men’s room door an odor overcame me. However it wasn’t a typical shit smell. When i opened that door it smelled like a Burger King burger. I’m telling you the smell was identical. The worst part is, i am hungry as all hell and my stomach actually growled when i was pissing. Now this could be due to the fact that some schmuck was in there minutes before i was with a bag of take out burger king. However, what if that isnt the case? What if that smell came from someone’s butt? What if i went in there and actually enjoyed the smell of someone else’s shit?Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-22822818961034614162007-04-29T16:35:00.000-07:002007-04-29T16:37:16.172-07:00Super Man JJ<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0iR3Dpf1QxYI8UkyLLpOH4FxBLexX8zY792tE5N9PZsiJQltP9Fc9QGJpKwy8sJu5TSU8QyyamuHGyCpWp-kFqdx8zLBnLlB043tE0mqA8z_C3Nwto8D2sfWzyHlGLDaaeqLg/s1600-h/jer.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0iR3Dpf1QxYI8UkyLLpOH4FxBLexX8zY792tE5N9PZsiJQltP9Fc9QGJpKwy8sJu5TSU8QyyamuHGyCpWp-kFqdx8zLBnLlB043tE0mqA8z_C3Nwto8D2sfWzyHlGLDaaeqLg/s400/jer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058998267776943986" /></a>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-42669854438288514382007-04-18T09:11:00.000-07:002007-04-18T09:12:23.098-07:00This Just In From JJ Dufresne<em>i went into work at 8:30 am yesterday and left at 5:30 AM this morning. Now i came back at 11:00 am. 13 hours of overtime and about 4 hours of sleep. On the way back to work today my grandparents were floating outside the car eating ice cream and flipping me off. It's said that the beatles wrote "Lucy in the sky with diamonds" after an lsd hallucination. My song after sleep depreivation would be, "Maybelle in the sky with chocolate chip and a middle finger."</em>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-75034136669529631452007-04-12T13:53:00.000-07:002007-04-12T13:56:31.496-07:00JJ Dufresne: A Man with a Moustache<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6pG8tw0cCuZqq1RLjscg08u8wKRGuG0b4IL9eg_-p6cD5ShEVrnUB8sYd-WGnXVQt8QwP0w09oGAeGt521YzPdIgeD1iucXIOW3zcG7zzTCDgPlV8AKTHVT7zHlENeddQn4E/s1600-h/jerbaby2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052648377714536562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6pG8tw0cCuZqq1RLjscg08u8wKRGuG0b4IL9eg_-p6cD5ShEVrnUB8sYd-WGnXVQt8QwP0w09oGAeGt521YzPdIgeD1iucXIOW3zcG7zzTCDgPlV8AKTHVT7zHlENeddQn4E/s400/jerbaby2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5r36mIHJiGc25Yc3lzoa4Ai-m6q8qj2vWplufdg6YTN2CQNSoecdvJCrPIyXboXYrKpNTxG6EDABZ28FGssZBLggssQTFmvl42n6vBpirlq1F3ghy4LcZ5S36dkPIw9czLTeq/s1600-h/jerbaby3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052648085656760418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5r36mIHJiGc25Yc3lzoa4Ai-m6q8qj2vWplufdg6YTN2CQNSoecdvJCrPIyXboXYrKpNTxG6EDABZ28FGssZBLggssQTFmvl42n6vBpirlq1F3ghy4LcZ5S36dkPIw9czLTeq/s400/jerbaby3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div></div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-91881011064090236022007-04-10T13:48:00.000-07:002007-04-12T18:33:04.387-07:00JJ Tells Mamma Some StuffJJ got tagged by <a href="http://mammaloves.blogspot.com/">Mamma</a>. She asked; he revealed.<br /><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>FOUR SENTENCES I'VE NEVER SAID.</strong><br /><br />1. "Oh, Christ how I wish I had genital leprosy.<br /><br />2. "Bestiality has its privileges."<br /><br />3. "I adore and respect Paris Hilton."<br /><br />4. "Go Packers!"<br /><br /><br /><br /><strong>SONG TITLES THAT REFLECT HOW I'VE FELT THIS WEEK</strong><br /><br />1. Sunday morning coming down (I got Drink-Drank-DRUNK on Saturday).<br /><br />2. The best of all possible worlds (if date goes well).<br /><br />3. Only in Dreams (if date goes poorly).<br /><br />4. Mary Jane's last dance (I'm all out).<br /><br />5. We are the champions (it's been a good week).<br /><br /><br /><strong>WHAT I'D BE DOING ON A PERFECT DAY.</strong><br /><br />Well, it goes without saying that crash landing (in a field of cannabis) on a planet inhabited only by scantily clad, baby-oiled, hot and bothered teenaged girls would be a perfect day, so I'll say something less cliché.<br /><br />Perfect day for me would be simple: Napping on the couch watching the football game with my infant daughter sleeping on my chest (with the bong and a beer nearby of course).<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Administrators' Note: The image of an infant daughter sleeping on JJ's chest is especially dear because he doesn't have an infant daughter or an infant son. He does, however, have a hell cat named Marvin.<br /></span><br /><br /><strong>5 ROCK BAND NAMES I CAME UP</strong> <strong>WITH </strong><br /><br />1. The gerbil pipers.<br /><br />2. The fuggers<br /><br />3. Butt wart<br /><br />4. Nincompoopery<br /><br />5. Moist<br /><br /><br /><strong>I GET TO GO BACK IN TIME AND STOP 3 SONGS FROM BEING WRITTEN<br /></strong><br />1. "My heart will go on" - don't know who wrote it but dont care either. Just as long as i dont have to be exposed to any version.<br /><br />2. "You don't bring me flowers" - barbra striesand and neil diamond. My brief research of babs said this was an early hit for her. I wanted to pick the song that shot her to fame and then get rid of it as soon as I stepped off the time machine. With any luck she'd get all despondent and throw herself and her big nose off the tallest building around. I only hope that my actions of getting rid of this song doesn’t hurt neil diamond's career though.<br /><br />3. 'Big yellow taxi'-joni mitchel. I hate this song, I hate the melody and I hate each and every cover anyone or any band has ever sung. There is no reason to remake this song. It sucks, Period. but everyone from fucking Amy Grant to Cake has covered it. Why? I don’t get it.<br /><br /><strong><em>JJ says, "Keep the questions coming." </em></strong>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-21379749817489292402007-04-09T18:33:00.000-07:002007-04-09T18:34:54.730-07:00JJ Dufresne: On His Yacht<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55vxkBrhTSsfiB-OZPvWTNse6LwujetdY7NFNdG11IbfIdeitLsWPxcFyzpsEj2LmeWeXOHF7m_lcoJhjkgqGXXXy9Z3UhXoQ-ZTbLMSiH3czBooVQTNV-an2wkUDXSwM_2kI/s1600-h/jerbaby.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55vxkBrhTSsfiB-OZPvWTNse6LwujetdY7NFNdG11IbfIdeitLsWPxcFyzpsEj2LmeWeXOHF7m_lcoJhjkgqGXXXy9Z3UhXoQ-ZTbLMSiH3czBooVQTNV-an2wkUDXSwM_2kI/s400/jerbaby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051606753655976018" /></a>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-14130682605523563072007-04-05T11:41:00.000-07:002007-04-05T11:45:40.508-07:00JJ Dufresne Tells Maybelline Some StuffJJ Dufresne got tagged by <a href="http://becrazedandconfused.blogspot.com/">Maybelline Jones.</a> She asked; he revealed.<br /><br />5 THINGS THAT GIVE YOU PHYSICAL PLEASURE<br /> <br />1.) Masturbation (I'd say 'sex' but i never have it so the big M is my answer).<br /> <br />2.) A good dump (and any fart anytime).<br /> <br />3.) A homosexual encounter with Mr. Bubble and a hot bath.<br /> <br />4.) A nap<br /> <br />5.) A good 2 mile run.<br /> <br /><br />5 THINGS THAT BRING YOU IMMEDIATE ANGER<br /> <br />1.) Stupid leftist dorks (not all leftist dorks, just the stupid ones) who automatically assume those who lean to the right are all a bunch of xenophobic, Bible thumping, prudish, rich, racist bigots. Don't get me wrong, there are a bunch of those types on the right but a lot of us just want lower taxes and a smaller government.<br /> <br />2.) Stupid rightist dorks (not all rightist dorks, just the stupid ones) who call themselves conservative (by which i mean those who want less government intrusion) but think the government should intrude in people's personal lives and make same sex marriage and abortion illegal. Conservative philosophy 101 says that government should stay out of the way as much as possible. Well okay, then how the fuck do these rightist fucks justify wanting the government to barge into personal lives and deny individuals certain freedoms?<br /> <br />3.) Accessory (or toy) dogs and their owners. All dogs including but not limited to chihuahuas and pomeranians should have cigars extinguished in their eyeballs and be punted into a wood chipper (that goes for their owners as well). If you want a small dog like that just get a fucking guinea pig.<br /> <br />4.) ChoMos. Catholic priests and NAMBLA members and anyone who touches a kid in a sexual manner should have their balls nailed to the ground and be beaten unconscious with a tire iron and then wakened up by a red hot poker shoved up their butt (repeat process until the fucker is dead).<br /> <br />5.) Angelina Jolie (or Angie Voight as my brother calls her). Someone needs to stop that woman. Adopting kids is not a sport or a fad you stupid bitch.<br /><br />5 THINGS THAT MAKE YOU AUTOMATICALLY HAPPY<br /> <br />1.) Pot.<br /> <br />2.) Hot, nasty sluts.<br /> <br />3.) Making people laugh (especially mom and dad).<br /> <br />4.) Getting off work early<br /> <br />5.) Pot.<br /> <br />5 THINGS THAT MAE YOU AUTOMATICALLY SAD<br /> <br />1.) Making mom cry.<br /> <br />2.) When people don't trust me (that could go in the 'mad' category as well).<br /> <br />3.) When the Twins or Vikes lose.<br /> <br />4.) When favorite actors die.<br /> <br />5.) when i'm out of pot.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-63475241094628484852007-03-30T14:14:00.000-07:002007-03-30T14:17:18.997-07:00JJ Dufresne is Looking For LoveJJ Dufresne e-mailed a couple of chicks on Match.com. He hasn't received any responses as of yet. One chick he's interested in said in her profile that she worked all night once and then went straight home to bed; apparently, little later she woke up and had to go "potty." She got up to go but her bedroom door jammed and she ended up getting locked in her bedroom for a few hours until the handy man could come let her out. <br /><br />JJ responded: "Did you poop and/or pee your pants or did you make it in time?" he asked. He was curious because she never said how the story ended. He felt obligated to ask.<br /><br />If she responds, JJ is thinking, this might be the one. She might be his wife.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-87721177471174233512007-03-04T18:54:00.000-08:002007-03-04T20:27:58.294-08:00From the Mind of JJ DufresneJJ thinks a good way for a guy to settle his inner anguish of suffering from the curiousity of what it would be like to fuck a dude in the ass would be to fuck the bearded lady. It’s akin of the desire to throw yourself off a stairway or ledge or cliff, that unsatiable urge to know what it would feel like just to do so.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-20840259935623212932007-02-23T05:59:00.000-08:002007-02-23T06:08:48.122-08:00J.J. Dufresne Thinks The Porn-Watching Neighbor Is a Real Dumbass<blockquote>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.<br /><br />"Now I feel stupid," said James Van Iveren, who has been charged in the case. "This really is nothing, nothing but a mistake."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />"Where is she?" Van Iveren demanded, thrusting the sword at the neighbor, the complaint said. "Where is she?"<br /><br />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.<br /><br />The neighbor later played for police the part of the DVD he believed Van Iveren heard downstairs.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />"I intended to hold it behind my back and knock. But I froze and instead, what happened happened," he told the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />"I had the sword extended, but that was all," he said.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Police seized Van Iveren's sword, which he said was a family heirloom.</blockquote><br /><br /><br />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. <br /><br />He thinks it proper to watch on mute.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-34734153965095085832007-02-22T09:03:00.000-08:002007-02-22T09:08:43.372-08:00An Open Letter to Nielsen Research MediaI 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.<br /><br />thank you for considering my application,<br /><br />sincerely,<br />J.J. DufresneDianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-22488059339393565802007-02-20T08:59:00.000-08:002007-02-20T09:01:04.802-08:00J.J. Says, "Heeeeeey There, Girlie."<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v87/kiddojes/jjgun.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />"Want to go upstairs and take your clothes off?"Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09389821796508983553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-84749494963503709602007-02-15T11:17:00.000-08:002007-02-15T16:13:40.654-08:00Continued Evidence of J.J. Dufresne's Class and SubtletyLast spring Diana threw a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Cinco</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">de</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">side street</span> when she's driving people home and will stay there until they have finished talking at 6 AM. But last spring at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Cinco</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">de</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">tres</span> leches cake with my hands, and I'd spooned a lot of salsa--even one that was labeled as the <em>Sweet Christ!</em> 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.<br /><br />And it's nice to know that when that happens, there's a boy like J.J. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Dufresne</span> around. A boy who will have my back. A boy who <em>isn't</em> the boy I've gone with to the dark and quiet place, but <em>is</em> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">NEXT DOOR</span> GETTING THE COCK, OKAY?! THIS IS GOOD FOR HER. DO YOU HEAR ME? GOOD! FOR! HER!"Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09389821796508983553noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-63576305670263786702007-02-15T08:23:00.000-08:002007-02-15T08:32:59.339-08:00You 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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-46615990262349409312007-02-14T20:01:00.000-08:002007-02-14T20:23:32.164-08:00Go Forth, J.J. Dufresne. Be Fruitful. Multiply.<span style="font-weight:bold;">FIRST</span><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">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'. </span><br /><br /><br /><A HREF='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbcZ35pKPWIhF8n9jywmkQus3y7L5kTa1jJnCux_NxCtw35Pgf86BwCponWHHv8AKIcBh9MSBh4RVkVgjXBAWZqqd8hRiQgW8GlnTViL1ycSMpEv92LJ40H637CtVfJesDKNfi/s1600-h/jjhead.jpg'><IMG SRC='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbcZ35pKPWIhF8n9jywmkQus3y7L5kTa1jJnCux_NxCtw35Pgf86BwCponWHHv8AKIcBh9MSBh4RVkVgjXBAWZqqd8hRiQgW8GlnTViL1ycSMpEv92LJ40H637CtVfJesDKNfi/s320/jjhead.jpg' border=0 alt='' id='BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_' style='clear:both;float:left;'></A> <div style='clear:both; text-align:LEFT'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">LATER</span><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">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.</span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-36083558268518884242007-02-12T19:42:00.001-08:002007-02-13T20:40:40.890-08:00What Would Jesus Do? What would J.J. Do?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7XCjoRnoYiqxCmti5Przkgzy0NT3UFZIj-e8Y0SQg_gwQJrT8bhGJZe-R9KYK5E2MhMU8j9XtjtCundP0wl50tLNGF0LjsfVTyU-r7TsgJGRwg8GGZSuFoIvSmh9377LnukD/s1600-h/JJD.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7XCjoRnoYiqxCmti5Przkgzy0NT3UFZIj-e8Y0SQg_gwQJrT8bhGJZe-R9KYK5E2MhMU8j9XtjtCundP0wl50tLNGF0LjsfVTyU-r7TsgJGRwg8GGZSuFoIvSmh9377LnukD/s400/JJD.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031245112716337186" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />What would you do, not for a Klondike bar, but for the chance to swap spit with Jefferson James Dufresne?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqBYT5Wu3CHRTGcdvYWmuzW9CufQ-4oJ2SZL0UkfdyhqfPoaT3NbceKngLZ6Tf3p42QVQsp_T1sQFY__4LwVjxvGbikj9BIqRiySW283XBDaAkcIyS4MRs1dQQtCZzisSRusuq/s1600-h/estelle.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqBYT5Wu3CHRTGcdvYWmuzW9CufQ-4oJ2SZL0UkfdyhqfPoaT3NbceKngLZ6Tf3p42QVQsp_T1sQFY__4LwVjxvGbikj9BIqRiySW283XBDaAkcIyS4MRs1dQQtCZzisSRusuq/s400/estelle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030861615086477314" /></a><br /><br />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. <br /><br />What would <span style="font-style:italic;">you</span> do? We, the Administrators of "I'm Just Drunk in Someone's Garage" want to know.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-45389326105649932942007-02-08T10:43:00.000-08:002007-02-08T10:39:09.684-08:00If Mamma Ain't Happy...<em>OK, </em>Mamma says. <em>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?</em><br /><br />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, <a href="http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://datelinehollywood.com/wp-content/britneyvagina.jpg&imgrefurl=http://datelinehollywood.com/archives/2006/12/04/britney-spears-vagina-asks-press-for-privacy/&amp;h=127&w=248&sz=21&hl=en&start=7&tbnid=D6Ulrl14MJxG_M:&amp;tbnh=57&tbnw=111&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dbritney%2527s%2Bvagina%26svnum%3D10%26hl%3Den%26rls%3DGGLD,GGLD:2006-49,GGLD:en%26sa%3DN">we looked at it</a>, too), not share the same keen interest in a modern day Renaissance Man.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />It's a mystery.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />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!<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5029239586327404498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmYEFe1A-0vFH14KXlr405ogGtIDSLpDzuBfo-0cdP0w3kkwDfMTzMxXLi2THtQyU5P9xMA7D9G1QDZVgZWQIm1fqZwvIq7jN6ssqmwpFKlq-vG0iEcPnDc9GzW2FsHP7XfaK/s400/fireworks.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#330099;">CONGRATULATIONS, <a href="http://mammaloves.blogspot.com/">MAMMA</a>!!!</span></div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-10616252186285648742007-02-08T07:50:00.000-08:002007-02-08T07:54:51.669-08:00Sexy Thursday Time with J.J. Dufresne and Fan<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v87/kiddojes/sexytuesday.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And by <em>fan</em> I mean <em>me</em>. See how he's way more interested in the beer?Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09389821796508983553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-67624576946431024272007-02-06T17:49:00.000-08:002007-02-06T17:51:01.876-08:00A Recent Email from J.J. Dufresne<span style="font-size:130%;">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. </span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-37218358843793737642007-02-05T15:33:00.000-08:002007-02-05T15:57:26.730-08:00Superbowl J.J.It <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">occurred</span> to me today that I don't know if J.J. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Dufresne</span> likes football. I know the following things about J.J.:<br /><br />1. He likes cats<br />2. He likes beer<br />3. He likes a glass of milk with his pancakes<br />4. He likes pretty girls<br />5. He likes <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">baseball</span> (an awful lot)<br /><br />But I have no clue if J.J. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Dufresne</span> 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 <em>You're fucking kidding me!</em> 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">commercial</span>. They say mean things about Kevin <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Federline</span>. 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 <em>J.J.! We love you! </em>all through the night.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09389821796508983553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-24359395661041495332007-02-02T18:15:00.000-08:002007-02-02T19:17:01.126-08:00Feed Him And He Will Come<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v87/kiddojes/hungryjj.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />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.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09389821796508983553noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37201836.post-3468285770341267442007-02-01T00:05:00.000-08:002007-02-01T00:07:00.715-08:00ShirtsJ.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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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! <br /><br />Grown-up J.J. sent me the following email:<br /><br /><em>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?</em>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15810886336623723914noreply@blogger.com2