Montauk Monsters = Scary / Hot (a comic con tale)

So there I was at the 2008 Heroes Comic Con Panel in San Diego, running off stage after giving away a few HEROES dvds and explaining away the fact that Jeph Loeb wasn’t on stage yet.  Needless to say, the fans were in an uproar of glee and excitement when he arrived onstage, and even more excitement when the cast walked on… But I was in shambles folks.  Ol’ Jim Martin was in shambles.  I even screamed out loud!

BECAUSE OF THE MONTAUK MONSTER WHO SCARED THE BEJEEZUS OUT OF ME !!!  Right after I ran off, the half dead dog/rodent/turtle thing was all up at the bottom of the stage.  It totally was like “BOO!”

I got over it though – and then it hit me… I called up my boy DJ Doyle, who was in SD working comic-con  with me… and needless to say… DJ has his own little story about this guy and what happened in San Diego.

That’s it for me, (I’m Jim)… Hey DJ, why don’t you tell us what happened at the hotel…

What happens at Comic-Con…

Gets spread around the office the following week. Yup. I’ll own up to it. While Jim was running scared from the Dog-Turtle Monster, I was embracing their awkward be-flippered lovin’. Seems that these two young betties headed down to Comic-Con with little more than the wind at their backs and a song in their piggish hearts.

So you KNOW I swooped in for the kill with my mad skillz. I learned real quick that Durtle Monsters will do just about anything for a warm berth at night…  (The term berth is used to describe a bed on a boat or train… Jim didn’t know this – he’s an idiot.)

And by anything, I’m saying I shagged them.

Hugs and Kisses,

DJ

A little piece of advice.

Don’t shave with a razor you’ve had for 3 or 4 weeks and you’ve been using every day for those 3 or 4 weeks. Also you don’t ever wash it off.

Are you feeling sad?  Like a bagel sans shmear?   Like an elephant who forgot?  Like the tallest midget around?  Well here’s a tip from your good buddy who knows a thing or two about being blue, me in the mirror.

Mirror Jim Says:

Special thanks to Zach Craley for letting me know that life is worth living.  And providing me with a slab of butter the size of a baby’s fist.

How do you guys make it through and not blow your heads off in a desperate suicide attempt inspired by mornings of trite and played out breakfast sustinence?

Things I need to work on.

I’m a real bad friend (fuck you), an awful husband (as a matter of fact, some people claim that I’m not a husband at all… I bet my wife wishes that was true) and a terrible father (I don’t know / care where my kids are/aren’t) but most importantly I’m just… well, I struggle to do things in a way that people like or appreciate.

I fall down a lot.  I drink standing water.  I present documents without proper headers. My ankles tend to itch and when I scratch them, I tear skin… I’m just not very good at many things.  So, because it’s July I decided to make a list of things I need to work on. And, frankly, I don’t think the list is so great either.

You want a piece? I'm up in it, sandbagger!

You want a piece? I'm up in it, sandbagger!

  • My Fantasy Life – I’ve been fantasizing far too much about food and sleep and not nearly enough about that busty and lusty half and halfer down at the pitch & putt. What am I thinking?
I hate this car, because it isn't done yet.

I hate this car, because it isn't done yet.

  • That hot rod in the shed – It’s not going to fix itself, and let’s face it, that busty and lusty half and halfer down at the pitch & putt doesn’t blow a grease monkey who doesn’t have a slick hot rod set of wheels. (it’s a ’55!)
Home Improvement Dude

Home Improvement Dude

  • My Tim Allen – I do a fair to moderate impression of the man, but gosh darnit, that’s not enough. “More Power!” also, I need more copies of “BIG TROUBLE” to give to my loved one(s) this weekend.
What a bad o-line, though.

What a bad o-line, though.

  • My rushing YPG – I’ve been drafting well for years now, but it never seems to pay off, I’ve yet to get that Edgerrin James begets Joseph Addai type yardage year in and year out… And with A.K. Dumont out all season, I’m up shits creek. (I own and operate a small time semi-pro Football team called “The Santa Monica Breeze” we’ve been middling around 8-8 for the past few seasons, but this could be our break out year… If I work on it.)
I hate gifts that suck. Just give me the fucking cake.

I hate gifts that suck. Just give me the fucking cake.

  • My appreciation of gifts I receive – I wasn’t trying to be a bastard, but I thought it was abundantly clear that a bundt cake pan was a REALLY SHITTY GIFT for someone’s “draft dodging day” festivities. At least get me a fucking bundt cake… why the fuck would I want a pan?  Do I want to make one myself?  God… oh.. shit… see? There I go again – I really have to work on that.

Oh, and there’s more stuff too.  My innate fear of commitment, my insane loathing for mushrooms that look like flowers, ownership of post 1987 Merle Haggard records, Blue tooth compatibility…

Oh well.  I guess I’m a lot like that ol’ hot-rod.  A work in progress.  What about you, folks?  Do you have anything you need to work on?