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2016: Year in Review

Should “in” be capitalized in the title?

Certain components of english I’ll seriously never master- E.g., the whole lay, laid, lie, lain fiasco. Also, what’s a past participle? Never mind, I looked it up. It’s pretty straightforward. It took me at least 25 years to master the use of “were” in a subjunctive setting, so I may be a lost cause.

Anyway, 2016. What a year! Stuff happened and other things didn’t. What. a. ride. I’ve been to a lot of weddings this year. Which made me think that there should also be divorce parties. This sounds like it could be a standup’s joke from the ’80s, but I’ve put a lot of thought into it. Obviously, those would most likely be really sad. However, if both parties were pleased with the cutting of ties, wouldn’t that be a raucous partee? Yeah, you’re right, it would be fun.

2017 should prove to be an exciting year. Tonejumpoff turns seven-years-old. I checked the wayback machine to see what posts were chronicled from the lost years, and dear lord, I wrote some crass stuff. There are a few dates registered, but only one from the good years. In other words, the years where I didn’t think about the repercussions of writing horrid shit. Lots of crazy quotes and such. I mostly miss the recounting of the Sticker Game. I also like to think about the old kickflip bet, and how funny it would be to pay it off decades later. As my body decays, that seems less likely.

Anyway, I love each and every one of you.

Center Bread

photo (23)

I like to think that some people have been checking this website every day for the past 14 months hoping for a new post. Also, what if the only reason I haven’t been posting is the fact that I forgot my password and then I finally remembered it was McDonaldsisthebestrestaurantintheworld? And the only reason I wasn’t getting access was because I kept forgetting to capitalize the D in McDonalds. Wouldn’t that be the craziest?

I’ll sometimes think about the posts I lost and get really really sad.

Black Matt Damon


I was organizing my computer when I stumbled across a word file called threewayclone.docx. I didn’t think anything of it and opened it to find this gem,

“I’ve never been more ok with someone not having a clone to 3way with.”

I’m pretty sure I said this, but i could be really fucking wrong. All I can do is hope that it was me.

TJO, loser.


Today I was working and someone asked me if I was aware of the Ghost Ship. “Ghost SHIP?!?” is what I said. Well, apparently I don’t hear well, because I was asked if I was aware of the current gossip in the lab. It was terribly disappointing. I thought there was a ghost ship people used on the 8th floor. People were just talking about how Italian Jeff Algren left his old girlfriend for the younger girl on our floor with the big naturals. Fucking. Lame.

Tonejumpoff flashback: Remember when I saw someone at McDonald’s that ordered a Big Mac without the middle bread. That person is the antichrist.

Random Access Hot Dogs


I really should retire considering that Scott’s blog is several standard deviations better than mine. Well, fuck him. Blog war.

Last week was Ultra. And oh boy, was it crazy. All the music was like wah wah wah, and boom boom, and ree ree!!. Daft Punk didn’t play, but several acts blew my dick into tiny pieces. Also, nothing feeds the soul like seeing someone in a wheelchair crowd surf. I definitely would have stolen that motherfucker’s shoes if he came anywhere near me, though.

Futuristic Tube Tranquil Game


I’ve been having ball pain lately, so I went to the doctor to get checked out. Apparently having your wiener pierced makes the doctor think that you’re riddled with sexy infections. After getting tested for the clap, they ultrasounded my balls, which was kind of nice because they squirt hot lube on your potatoes. Pam was there, too. The technician managed to examine the front of my balls and take 15,000 front-ball pics and maybe one rear view pic. I volunteered to fruit basket my package so he could get back there, but he wasn’t interested. Good news is that the front of my balls are definitely cancer free, but the back is anyone’s guess.
The doctor let me go, and said I was good, but I still had to go to the urologist. So I go to the urologist and he says, “you know how some people get headaches, you get potato-aches.” Cool!!
And now, since I’m insane, I told my primary care about how shitty my ultrasound was, she suggested Pam get tested for sexy diseases. Fucking Miami doctors.
My insurance is great, too. Oh wait, it’s shit. I was able to spend $750 to find out that I should wear more supportive undies. Come on. I fucking hate everything. Except for pizza, candy, cool people, all drugs, Chinese food, Pam, all my friends, booze, kettlebells, tonejumpoff, the bone zone, bars where you can smoke, free food, cheesesteaks, fresh fish, French food that gives me the poops because of all the butter, skateboarding, my Michael Jordan shirt, sleeping, TV, House of Cards, good movies, cool backpacks, science, getting to sleeping in, funny porn titles, looking at Glads’ belly, the dog park, hot dogs, etc.

TJO 4 life


TJO is back. I didn’t realize how much this site meant to me.

So I didn’t renew my domain and I lost everything. I have some of the old posts, but none of those were remotely entertaining. Sadly, all of the comments are gone. So if everyone could do me a HUGE favor and write in every comment they’ve ever written, that would be great. Thanks!