HolyJuan

It begins with a lie and ends with a lie

2012-01-25T20:16:00.000-05:00

I was a late bloomer. I was a good kid in high school. I didn't drink until after football season my senior year. I didn't sneak out of the house until I did for the first time.

I'm not sure when it was, but I'm sure I was still living at home when my parents expected me to come home as much as they expected me not to. After an older brother and an older sister, I'm sure that the midnight path out the sliding glass door was well worn.

The worst part of this story is that I do not remember it. I've asked some of the people I was with and they don't remember it either. The best part of this story that I cannot remember is that I will never forget it.

One night I probably lied and said I was going out and would be back late. I left the house after being picked up. If it was Jeff, it would have been in a Trans-Am. If it was Russ, it would have been the Nissan.

What I don't remember is who, what and where. What I do remember is the thrill of being out all night. Not having a home to crash at. Trying to find something to do. Driving with the windows down. Drinking Mountain Dew. Going to girls' houses and having them sneak out to talk to us. At some point, we met up with others and a gang of us went to Kathy's house. I asked Kathy if she remembers the night. She doesn't. I remember by the time we got to her house the birds that sing an hour before sunrise were singing. I remember joking about Kathy's hands. Her hands contained zero bones, but 27 servings of Jell-o.

Then at some point, as the sun was just peeking up above the horizon, I was dropped off at home. Sneaking back in is always harder than sneaking out.

In the front door. Up the stairs. Across the creaky floor. In bed, clothes and all.

"Doug!"

(Fake sleepily) Yeah?

"Did you just get in?"

(More fake sleepily) No.

A second lie and then asleep, smelling of grass and sweat and Mountain Dew and being young.

Removing MyWebSearch from Firefox

2012-01-15T14:23:00.000-05:00

If you run Firefox and are trying to remove MyWebSearch, try the following:

Delete any "MyWebSeach" extensions under menu TOOLS and then ADD-ONS and EXTENSIONS.

Next, in the address bar, type "about:config" without the quotation marks.

You will see a warning about voiding your warranty. Click "I'll be careful, I promise!" and move on.

In the filter bar, type "myweb."

Right click any items that have "mywebseach" in them and select the "reset" option.

Restart Firefox.

I do not know much about MyWebSearch except that it block pages that have anything to do with "Removing Mywebsearch." If it is blocking those pages, it can block other information as well. Jerks.

Where did you lose your virginity?

2012-01-15T05:35:00.000-05:00

Help me with this completely unscientific experiment by mapping where you lost your virginity. Click on the link below to access a map of the world. Zoom in to your location and then click to add an icon to that spot. Feel free to add a note about how you lost it. No names please.

Click here to add an icon to the map.

Thanks to the folks at www.mapservices.org!

Soda Jerk

2011-12-16T20:34:00.000-05:00

Remember how f'ing hot this last summer was? And do remember that one time I was a dick to you and you wanted to get me back? These two unrelated statements came together a number of months ago. I had been leaving my car windows down because of the heat. I went out to my car one afternoon and as I sat in the driver's seat, something seemed... odd. I then realized that the steering wheel was sticky. And so was the dash. And the seat. Someone had, on purpose or accidentally, thrown a cup of pop in my car. It was brown and sticky. It fucking pissed me off.

Someone thought it was pretty funny to coat the inside of my car with pop or maybe they were carrying a soda pop when all of a sudden they were attacked by a mountain lion and their only chance to survive was to ditch their Coke and run like the dickens.

For about two days I would get in my car in the morning and be reminded of the prank. (Yeah, I kept forgetting to clean it out.) I'd think about it on my way to work... if it was an accident, the person would have told be about it. If it was a joke, they were just sitting back and waiting for the right moment to ask me about my sticky mess and they would have a good laugh. So I waited for an answer.

And on the third day I got my answer.

I needed to throw some crap in my back seat when I saw this:

There are two Coke cans. The one without the lid blown off is from Puerto Rico. Keegan brought it back to show me the smaller can and that their Coke contains less salt and more (real) sugar. The one with the blown off top is an American Coke can with more salt and less sugar. I was going to do a post on HolyJuan about how American Coke is salty so you drink more.

The heat caused the can to expand and blow the top off, which happened to shoot right between the driver and passenger seats and all over the dash and steering wheel.

In the end, my co-workers were not assholes. There was no mountain lion. And I never did that post on HolyJuan about the salt levels of American Coke vs Puerto Rico Coke. Unless you count this one.

I need some scientists to tell me if the additional salt in American Coke would cause it to expand more and thus blow off the top. Or maybe the can was engineered differently. I'll call this the Coke Challenge. Get to work scientists!

Dear Ray

2011-12-13T20:44:00.000-05:00

Dear Ray,

First off, I know you are not reading this. I think we would both agree that this time we have on Earth is one shot only and there’s not much after that. I guess I am writing this more for others to read. But it feels good to pretend. You can’t fault me for that.

We had your celebration of life last night. It was a blast. First off, open bar. That was unexpected and completely awesome. Thanks for the Guinness! And the second. And so on.

I came right at 6:00pm because didn’t want to miss a thing. When I showed up, the place was seemingly full already. There were a cluster of people at the bottom of the stairs. Keri was there handing out the programs. An impromptu welcome line had formed around Cindy, Keegan and Zoe.

People continued to pour in. Friends from old COSI, friends from new COSI, work friends, neighbors, family… so many people. You were very popular.

We all drank. We all lamented at how bravely you fought and how quickly you left. We laughed. We told stories. Just like you wanted.

You would be happy to know that at one point in the night, I was telling a story and Shorty found it funny enough to guffaw a mouthful of beer on my shirt.

Keri did a great job at helping to produce the event. She held it together where I would have fallen apart.

And then the bag pipe player began upstairs. Not quietly because that’s not how those things work. He came down the stairs and I could not help but cry. It was perfect. He came through the room and into the small stage where the microphone was set up. He was pretty damn tall. I assume you paid extra for that.

Keri started off the speeches. Joe followed up and made us all very introspective. Ron spoke of your love for the Marx brothers. Adelaide did not realize how funny her story about you fixing her luggage carrier was going to be. Zoe was overcome with emotion, but came back later to tell us about how you helped her to overcome her fears. Keegan spoke well and is his father’s son. Others came up to tell their stories. I told the food poisoning one. They were funny. They were poignant. We laughed and we cried. We all really miss you.

Then at the end, the bag pipe player played you out. He played Hector the Hero, just like you wanted.

And I know it sounds cheesy. But as he walked off through the room, the people moved out of the way. And then up the stairs. The music faded. And it was as if I could finally let go. Another chance to say goodbye. This time with happiness. Surround by the many many people whose lives were changed by you.

And now I realize that I’m not writing this for others. I’m writing it for me.

Thanks, Ray.

Family Photo at the Office

2011-12-09T13:11:00.001-05:00

Everyone knows that the amount of love you feel for your family is based upon the size of their photo you have at your desk.

I win.

Photo by Erlina Kim photography. 36" x 24" on canvas.

For the Motorcycle Enthusiast

2011-12-06T23:00:00.001-05:00

Do you have a motorcycle enthusiast on your Christmas list? Stumped as to what to get them? Look no further! Let them decorate their bike with Bikr Chix!

These dolls are easy to attach, but impossible to remove from your heart.

Get yours today!

Feed the Pets

2011-12-06T21:57:00.001-05:00

This photo is from the past summer, but I'm starting to get my HolyJuan groove back so I'm digging thought the archives to see what I neglected to post.

We were our of town for a few days and had Sally's friend Carrie come over to feed the pets. We left out instructions:

Velveeta’s Mix 08/2002

2011-12-03T10:06:00.001-05:00

The thing about nicknames is that you usually do not get the opportunity to choose your own. Most the time, people do something stupid and then they are stuck with a nickname for life. Nicknames like Car Trunk, Forrest Gump and Palmolive are nicknames that are hard to get rid of.

My nickname, to some, is Velveeta. While there are many reasons for this nickname, I like to think it is because Velveeta is the cheesiest. Either way, I like the nickname Velveeta and I’ve somehow been able to have people call me that instead of Dog Poop Hida.

About 10 years ago, my friend Anne (Chia) gave me a mix CD. We had worked together for about four years and she was moving on to bigger and better things. On her way out the door, she gave me a CD called Velveeta’s Mix.

It was an awesome CD.

Was?

Yeah, well, because I am an idiot, I lost the CD cover and eventually the CD was scratched to shit and unplayable in my CD player.

But I kept the CD because it meant a lot to me.

Fast forward to yesterday and Miss Sally requesting I burn a CD for her. As I was digging though the dust to find that stack of 100 cds that I bought right before thumb drives came out, I found Anne’s mix cd.

For shits and giggles, I put it in my computer and tried to rip it or at least listen to it skip and digitally static its way to the end.

It worked.

It’s a great mix and I thought I would share it with you:

Faces – Ooh La La

Stereo Total – C’est La Mort

U2 – Beautiful Day

Peter Gabriel – Love to be Loved

David Byrne-Dance On Vaseline (Thievery Corporation Remix)

The Smiths – Big Mouth Strikes Again

Arling & Cameron - Dirty Robot

U2 – Lemon

David Byrne – Flowers

Lucinda Williams – Lonely Girls

Ben and Jason – Romeo and Juliet are Drowning

Misty Dixon - Beautiful Ones

David Byrne – The Great Intoxication

National Skyline - Some Will Say

Morrissey – Interesting Drug

Talking Heads – Once In a Lifetime

Talking Heads – This Must Be The Place

Thanks to my Droid 3 and the Shazam application for helping me find the songs I couldn't remember.

Because this is the internet, I can share these songs with you via a playlist on Grooveshark: Click here for Velveeta's Mix.

The REAL 13 Things Your Pizza Guy Won’t Tell You

2011-12-02T16:54:00.000-05:00

I read an article on the 13 Things Your Pizza Guy Won't Tell You. They were pretty much bullshit. Here's a list of the REAL 13 things the pizza guy wont tell you:

1. The sauce really stings the open sore on his finger.

2. The cheese that misses the pizza and lands all over the place will make it back on top a pizza at some point in the night.

3. Pizza ain’t all he’s delivering.

4. The soap is still out in the employee bathroom.

5. If you do not tip him well, your next delivered three topping pizza will have four toppings.

6. He does wish you would come to the door topless.

7. The delivery guy is not en route and you are going to get the next thing that pops out of the oven.

8. It is hard to wipe a runny nose with the plastic gloves on, but he'll keep trying!

9. 30 minutes or less is a suggestion and not a goal

10. Long, scraggly hair is in. Hair nets are out.

11. Its hard to catch the flying disc of dough, but luckily the floor has enough flour on it to keep most of it from sticking.

12. Pizza guy is always very happy and he always seems to have red, bloodshot eyes.

13. You won’t believe some of the shit that will fit in the dough presser machine.

Save Money on Nasal Rinse!

2011-11-28T22:10:00.001-05:00

Why buy new when you can save $1.50 and get used!

Thanks, Ray.

2011-11-27T19:27:00.001-05:00

Ray died today. He was a great guy. Witty. Clever. A master craftsman. He was thoughtful. He was a good listener. He was a great teacher. Here’s a collection of my Ray memories. I know that I will be reminded of more in the coming days as the people that knew Ray gather to celebrate his life, so hopefully this list will grow. Feel free to leave your Ray story in the comments or email me at holyjuan@gmail.com.

Ray was the first one to tell me about the 270 Rule, which was what ever happened outside of 270, stayed outside of 270. While we never did anything that was 270 Rule worthy, it was always nice to have that in your back pocket.

Ray once told me about how he and a group of guys outsmarted the hotel room refrigerator. In the early days of the convenience refrigerator, the hotel would put a plastic strap around the door handle. If the strap was broken, housekeeping knew to take note of how many bottles of liquor or macadamia nuts were missing. So Ray and the guys unattached the refrigerator from the wall, pulled it out and took off the back. They ate and drank their fill and put it all back together. I assume that someone a few hotel stays later had a lot of explaining to do.

Ray always sent out clever links from the internet. Most people don’t know how to do that. Ray did.

I once had to make a relief map of Australia. I asked Ray what I could put on the map for the mountains. Ray said to use Bondo because Bondo sticks to everything. Two days later the Bondo was not sticking and I asked Ray what was up. He said, “What kind of material is that?” I said it is paper coated plywood. It’s called signboard. Ray said, “Oh, Bondo won’t stick to signboard.” Ray!!!

I’ll never forget the look Ray had when a co-worker was cutting material on the table saw. A strip of material got wedged in the blade and then shot backwards, slamming into Ray’s tool chest about 9” away from Ray. Without flinching, Ray slowly turned his head, raised his eyebrows, looked down and then when right back to work. That dent is still in his tool box today.

Ray was always able to help. During busy days in the shop, he’d be helping one person and there would always be someone else hovering in the distance, waiting their turn. He was a wealth of knowledge about so many woodworking topics and tools.

Ray once named once of his dogs Doug. I like to think that it was because of me.

Back at the old COSI, Ray hung a sign over the smallest closet in the building that denoted it as my workspace in the shop. It was actually the maintenance hatch for Jeb, the coal miner in COSI’s Coal Mine exhibit.

Ray told me that the only shop machine that can used to make itself is the milling machine. I wasn’t listening, so I thought he said the lathe. I spent years arguing with people on the road about the lathe being able to make itself. Years later Ray was sure he hadn’t said lathe. “Are you sure I didn’t say milling machine?” Maybe?

Ray did not have every tool in the world, but with the tools he had, he could get the job done. He’d also make tools when he didn’t have the right one. We have one now in the shop that I refer to as the “Ray HDPE Scraper Thingy.”

I consider myself lucky that Ray’s son called me when things began to look down. The family allowed me to come over to see him, but we all knew it was to say goodbye. I didn’t know what to say. So I saddled along beside him and said that it was Doug. And he smiled for a moment, the way Ray smiled. All I could say was, “Thanks, Ray.” Then I left.

I will miss Ray, but the things that he built have been and will continue to give happiness to kids for years to come. The lessons he taught will be passed on. He will never be forgotten.

And I’ll think of Ray, tooling around at his work bench. Trying to make something that had never been made before or fix something that someone else hadn’t made quite right. His back would be to the room and I’d pop in and yell. “Ray!” He’d turn around and sarcastically say something along the lines of, “Oh, great.” But we both knew how much out friendship meant to each other.

Love you, Ray. You’ll always be with us.

Fake Dispatch Is Killing HolyJuan

2011-11-21T23:35:00.001-05:00

The first rule of blogging is to not call it blogging.
The second rule of blogging is to not talk about your blogging habits.
The third rule of anything is that you are supposed to repeat the first rule and make it the second rule.

I wrote something like that a few years ago. A smartassed tutorial about writing on a website. I have never been good about listening to my own advice.

This is a story about how Fake Dispatch is killing HolyJuan.

About 18 months ago, I began a character on Twitter called Fake Dispatch. I leveraged the 500 or so followers from my HolyJuan Twitter account to get Fake Dispatch up and running. Pretty soon, Fake Dispatch also had 500 followers. And then 1000. Then 2000. I started off making up fake headlines about Columbus. My audience grew outside of 270, so then I started in with material more suited to the whole of Ohio. Soon after that, I realized I had a nationwide audience. Over 10,000 people following me. To someone like me whose ego runneth over, this is strangely addicting.

The problem with Fake Dispatch is that he siphons many of the ideas that would have gone into a HolyJuan article and squishes down into a 140 character post. Back in the old days, I would have a crazy idea about something and figure out a way to turn that into a 300 word post. A simple idea like, “Band Names from Willie Wonka All Used Up” would be thought through, run through the computer, edited and posted. Now if I have that idea, I figure out a way to squeeze that down into 140 characters. It’s much quicker. It’s much easier. It’s pathetic. Most of the best HolyJuan posts were individual ideas that were built up. Many of the ideas I started out with would evolve into something else. Something else better. Now that does not happen as much. At all.

Now Fake Dispatch will link to old HolyJuan posts as they become relevant. People think they are hilarious. Each link to a HolyJuan article contains the date it was originally posted. Dates of 2010, 2007 and back to 2006 are a testament that I've been HolyJuan a lot longer than I have been many other things.

But will Fake Dispatch kill HolyJuan? I don’t think so. Fake Dispatch is faceless and soulless. HolyJuan is my voice and has a heart, even though I can come across heartless. I think the two can live together. I'm not promising anything, but I'm hoping that I can guilt myself into being more than just Fake Dispatch.

Follow Fake Dispatch on Twitter at this link: https://twitter.com/#!/Fake_Dispatch You know where to find HolyJuan. Hopefully you will continue to find me here.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: During the writing of this article, I wandered away and posted these two Fake Dispatch posts. I lack focus.

BREAKING: Local man does not own Skyrim, so he's doing and then quitting heroin so that he knows what it's like.

BREAKING: By 2005, Al Queda knew they couldn't hurt the US by force, so they went to marketing school and now they torture us with TV ads.

Hairs Did

2011-11-12T09:59:00.001-05:00

Here's @Freckledjenn and I getting our hairs did at the Cbusr/614 Magazine meet up at Local Bar.

The One Ring

2011-10-05T02:03:00.001-04:00

I never know if I should feel lucky or creeped out by this:

You go ahead. I don't have to pee anymore.

2011-10-02T10:53:00.003-04:00

From a bathroom in Fort Lauderdale

Jesus as a Child

2011-10-01T20:15:00.002-04:00

Boots

2011-09-28T22:49:00.000-04:00

I recently found it necessary to purchase a pair of boots. Construction site rules. So I bought a pair of boots. When I got on site, the boots were new enough that they captured the attention of one of our vendors who happens to be a good friend. He said that I should scuff the boots up so that they didn’t look so new. I said, that reminds me of a story…

When I was 19, I went from working at Baskin Robbins to Hanning’s, a roofing company in Lancaster, OH. My sister’s ex-boyfriend had worked there over previous summers and said it was hard, but rewarding work. So I applied and got a job. They said, “Wear old jeans and boots.” I didn’t have boots, so I went out and bought a pair. The boots glowed with newness and I thought that I would look like a punk kid if I had new boots on. I went into the yard and scuffed them up on rocks and grass to make it look like I had worn them for a while.

I showed up for work in my old jeans and seasoned boots. The foreman took one look at my boots and said, “Did you rub grass on your boots?” I said, “No.” He said, “It looks like you took a pair of new boots and rubbed grass on them.” I said no again, but I might as well have told him yes.

22 years later I finish telling our vendor that a pair of boots is more about what is on the inside of them and a lot less about what is on the outside of them.

He didn’t believe it for a second.

Not that it means anything, here are those boot at the end of my first summer as a roofer.

And here they are in 2006 when I finally retired them.

Here’s to my new boots. They’ve gone though a lot in their first month. Everything except grass stains.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has Competition

2011-09-22T16:52:00.001-04:00

Hotel Electricity

2011-09-17T09:37:00.001-04:00

I don't know much about electricity, but this is what I found when I went to plug in my phone charger at the hotel. If you don't see it at first, look at the black plug.

If you want to know the truth, this was the alarm clock and I didn't want to try and figure out how to set the clock, so I left it plugged in like this.

No carry on

2011-09-05T06:38:00.001-04:00

For the first time ever, I am at the airport, awaiting to take off, and I do not have a carry-on bag. My mind still thinks I do because I keep looking for it every five minutes. All I've got is my wallet, my Droid and a 2000 mile long extension cord. This Droid 3 is very nice, but it chews right through the battery. I've got it plugged in now, but I can see the airport lights dim everytime I hit a key. I'm assuming that when I do not have a signal or when my battery dies I will be sad, but until then, I will continue to keep looking for the bag that is sitting at home all alone. Two-sack is going to be pissed because I also left the most recent Donaldson book at home. I was supposed to have read that six months ago, but have not made the time. I'm sure he won't mind, seeing as the book is big enough to be a carry-on on its own.

Bathroom Sign

2011-09-02T09:43:00.001-04:00

We recently moved into new offices. There was a sign already in the bathroom when we got there saying that the door should be locked. I thought it needed a friend.

Star Wars Fan?

2011-08-21T11:17:00.000-04:00

I assume the creator of this ad on Facebook is not.

As found on Facebook.

How Bible Stories Get Started

2011-08-15T22:53:00.000-04:00

Kit's Pelotonia Fundraising Campaign

2011-08-06T23:05:00.001-04:00

My friend Kit is raising money to cure cancer by riding in the Pelotonia. Here's a personal email from Kit that he sent to our group of friends that he never thought would wind up on the internet.

"I have an opportunity for you guys. I'm going to give you the chance to donate to my Pelotonia fundraising campaign. I have it on good authority that our own hometown OSU James Cancer hospital will be finding the cure for cancer this year. They told me, though, that they can only do this if they get some donations from the midnight mountain club in Lancaster, Ohio. I know, it sounds crazy, but that’s what they told me. I offered to donate on your behalf, but they said that it had to come from you guys. They also mentioned that if they don’t get the money, that the University of Michigan will definitely find the cure. I’m not a huge Buckeye fan, but I would hate it to go to the state up north.

I’m going to donate, and I think you guys should as well. It just so happens, that I have signed up for the Pelotonia, so you can easily donate to my ride, 100% of which, will go directly to the James. I checked to make sure this method of donation would actually cure cancer, and they said ‘yes’. Here’s the website:

http://www.mypelotonia.org/riders_profile.jsp?MemberID=122960

Just in case that didn’t work, here are some other reasons to give:
·         You’re not a pussy.
·         Donations to Pelotonia are tax-deductible, you cheap bastards.
·         Donors get a year’s worth of good feelings from me, and a thank you card.
·         You can come down to Athens and party while I’m humping my bike for a 100 miles.
·         You’re not a dick.

Anyway, I look forward to seeing you guys in Athens on August 20^th.

Love,
Kit"

You can also support Kit by purchasing a "Kit Peery Bike T-shirt." I get $5 every time I sell a shirt, but I'll donate that to Kit. Go here to buy a shirt: http://skreened.com/holyjuan/kit-peery-s-bike-shirt.