COLLECTION: Snow Day
Wow, lets see, where did I let off… oh right, I had balls and wanted respect (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, click on the last post COLLECTION: I Got Balls and all will be explained). As always, the first thing I though of was showing ‘em off to the ladies. Enter Erin Ness.
Check it out, she likes ‘em. I don’t know why, but I’m itching to make a snow-job joke. Sorry, done with the puns. Promise.
Next we went to the roof, where I planned on launching them at tourists.
Just look at how happy even the thought of it makes me. Very. Very happy. You know how gross it feels when a random drop of water drips on you from some unseen ledge? Multiply that by a hundred and you’re still nowhere near the panic a summertime snowball would cause.
Er, they are kind of hard though.
And this is where the plan falls apart.
Erin was like, “Why don’t I throw one at you first… like a test run… see if it hurts.”
“No.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Nada.”
“Please.”
“Never.”
“Seriously, it’ll be funny.”
“Nope.”
“We’ll set it up with the auto-timer and get the perfect shot. It’ll be so much fun. “
“The perfect shot?”
“Yeah, I’ll get a shot with the ball mid-air coming at you. It’ll be cool. Besides, you can always throw them at tourists later. At least that way you’ll have something to show for it all if you miss from up here.”
(pause)
As something of a photographer myself ‘the perfect shot’ had a cool ring to it. Why not?
“Fine,”
She said she wouldn’t throw hard… I should’ve known better.
“Did’ja get it—the perfect shot?”
“Missed it. I think you should turn around though. And take off your shirt.”
Luckily, I’m the owner of a catcher’s mask. It wasn’t until I geared-up though that she spotted welt number one taking shape. Still, I wasn’t ready to give up.
“Did’ja get it?”
“No.”
“Did’ja get it?”
“Nope. One more.”
“Now?”
“No, missed it.”
“Now?”
“No, timing's all off.”
“Now?”
“Not even close.”
“Now?”
“No, the ball's not even in the shot.”
Those of you reading the fine print will notice the spots are now multiplying.
“Now?”
“Closer. Just a few more.”
"Now?"
"Now?"
"Anything?"
Perfect shot, my ass. After lose to 30 minutes of home girl pegging me with chunks of ice (that didn’t look any worse for the wear I might add) the only thing I had to show for my effort was a collection of bruises forming.
And maybe a new appreciation for Ms Ness’ arm? No.
A new respect for the power of nature? No.
A true understanding of what it means to suffer for art? No.
Just bruises. Really. Nothing but bruises.
I hope you enjoyed it though. Erin did.
Still, I’d like to take a moment to point out that all four ice-balls are now safely back in my freezer where they’ll age like wine until sometime in August when I’ll get my revenge. That’s right, don’t lower the terror alert just yet, this is by no means done.
Check it out, she likes ‘em. I don’t know why, but I’m itching to make a snow-job joke. Sorry, done with the puns. Promise.
Next we went to the roof, where I planned on launching them at tourists.
Just look at how happy even the thought of it makes me. Very. Very happy. You know how gross it feels when a random drop of water drips on you from some unseen ledge? Multiply that by a hundred and you’re still nowhere near the panic a summertime snowball would cause.
Er, they are kind of hard though.
And this is where the plan falls apart.
Erin was like, “Why don’t I throw one at you first… like a test run… see if it hurts.”
“No.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Nada.”
“Please.”
“Never.”
“Seriously, it’ll be funny.”
“Nope.”
“We’ll set it up with the auto-timer and get the perfect shot. It’ll be so much fun. “
“The perfect shot?”
“Yeah, I’ll get a shot with the ball mid-air coming at you. It’ll be cool. Besides, you can always throw them at tourists later. At least that way you’ll have something to show for it all if you miss from up here.”
(pause)
As something of a photographer myself ‘the perfect shot’ had a cool ring to it. Why not?
“Fine,”
She said she wouldn’t throw hard… I should’ve known better.
“Did’ja get it—the perfect shot?”
“Missed it. I think you should turn around though. And take off your shirt.”
Luckily, I’m the owner of a catcher’s mask. It wasn’t until I geared-up though that she spotted welt number one taking shape. Still, I wasn’t ready to give up.
“Did’ja get it?”
“No.”
“Did’ja get it?”
“Nope. One more.”
“Now?”
“No, missed it.”
“Now?”
“No, timing's all off.”
“Now?”
“Not even close.”
“Now?”
“No, the ball's not even in the shot.”
Those of you reading the fine print will notice the spots are now multiplying.
“Now?”
“Closer. Just a few more.”
"Now?"
"Now?"
"Anything?"
Perfect shot, my ass. After lose to 30 minutes of home girl pegging me with chunks of ice (that didn’t look any worse for the wear I might add) the only thing I had to show for my effort was a collection of bruises forming.
And maybe a new appreciation for Ms Ness’ arm? No.
A new respect for the power of nature? No.
A true understanding of what it means to suffer for art? No.
Just bruises. Really. Nothing but bruises.
I hope you enjoyed it though. Erin did.
Still, I’d like to take a moment to point out that all four ice-balls are now safely back in my freezer where they’ll age like wine until sometime in August when I’ll get my revenge. That’s right, don’t lower the terror alert just yet, this is by no means done.
posted by Jakehimself at 10:35 AM
17 Comments:
See . . . I told, there's nothing like Colorado Snow. I do have to say, however, that the balls in the bag is a good idea. The last time I tried to freeze snow balls, I just put them in the freezer and they shrunk! My balls shrunk. (oh, the puns just keep on comin' don't they). Anyways, have fun with your balls.
You crazy... but I think I like crazy... are you on the market?
Looks like you had a very Philly day—at least T-shirt wise—as both G*Mart (the shirt you had on in the last post from earlier in the day) and Bikini Bandits (the shirt you're wearing now) are owned by Philly's own Gyro. I don't know what my point is. I guess I just wanted to show off my awesome brain-power.
Yo, your ideas are hilarious! I think we need some NAKED pics of you and your snowball games!
nutbag
Erin can throw a fastball, play poker and she's hot. I love her.
intense
Women want you, men want to be you. Why? You look like a dumbass to me.
If you're ever in Miami though, give me a call, sometimes dumbasses make the best wing-men.
hey man... your page is FU|@#~|@ hilarious... and you're fuc~€¬ nuts.. but it's a not missin' any update..and man your friend is really really nice..say hello from Colombia to her!!!.. and to you!!
Suerte!!!!
honey hello. i wish i was erin. very jackass-like but with a jake twist. i love it!
Jake,
you have hot friends.
OUCH!
hi there, Captain Strangeperson.
I wonder if you are on flickr.com? if so, I want to be your contact. if not, you should be -- it's right up your alley. in fact, so keen is my desire to get you flickring that I will offer up one of the free Pro accounts that flickr gave me (as part of the awesome thank-you bounty for going Pro in beta phase - easily the best move I've made in the last two years or so).
if you are interested, you can get in touch with me at flickr:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/trixiepix/
hope to see you there.
Jake, u have such a nice body.
hehe
my favorite part is the look of sheer glee on erin's face as she's inflicting bodily harm to you....
so what's her dayjob?
http://workroom.org/journal/e_costume.jpg
; P
I would marry you, just because I don't know anyone that would let someone do that to them. I wish my boyfriend would let me throw shit at him...i mean without him throwing stuff back.
i am an erin's fan
she's so hot....
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