The Skillz Report

 

Bart And Milhouse? (January 31, 2015)

 

Some friends and I are given some test to take at the 1250. My IRL friend Jenn blows through it so quickly, I'm ashamed to have barely started. Another dude I'm currently on the outs with IRL—we'll call him Dick—tries to buddy me up as if nothing has happened. I warn him not to touch me again. Later, after repeated brushes with one another, I attempt to call a truce. "Can't you just drop it?" whines Dick. "I'M TRYING TO HELP YOU, YOU IDIOT!" I angrily reply.

 

Then things get bizarre. After a brief wrestling match with the Warriors' Draymond Green (complete with mat and everything), I find myself as a cop responding to two 10-year-old boys—one has the other tied to a chair slingshotting rubber balls at him. I split, and quickly see other cops and the fire department racing to the scene I just left. Now there is a circle of about 12 boys present, with a cute blond officer trying to calm things down alone. The original tied-up kid wants to "press charges". (Personally, I think he just wanted more attention from the cute cop.)

 

 

 

Damn Jerks...Never Going THERE Again (January 30, 2015)

 

The laundromat? Who dreams about being at the laundromat? I do, apparently. Another patron asks me to vacate the folding table, where I'm set up with binder/paperwork. Though she's not real polite, I oblige. Picking another folding table, it happens again—only this time it's a kid mustering up the nerve. Finally I decide to sit, with a resting repairman two seats to my right and NO ONE to my left. Suddenly some big bastard plops between us. I don't hesitate: "GET UP." He does.

 

Next I've shifted to a library computer, where I can't lower the YouTube sound (my I-Tunes was on in the background IRL). An arrogant ass figures out how to turn down the entire computer volume, talking down to me all the way. I wanted to sock him so bad, but there's probably some rule against that.

 

 

 

Just Some Good Ol' Boys...Takin' Some Pills (January 29, 2015)

 

I'm in Vallejo, CA when I spot Hall-of-Fame pitcher Rollie Fingers standing around in the road (what the hell is he doing in that hole?); I decide to approach him for pitching pointers. By the time I walk the short distance to Rollie, he's taken on a bald, fat, slovenly (and mustache-less) appearance—but he still agrees to give me lessons. 

 

Running back inside, I encounter my IRL late grandma, and begin to talk about Don Zimmer, who spent 66 years in pro baseball in a variety of roles before dying last year. However, I'm claiming he spent 84 years in baseball for some reason—which would mean he entered pro baseball within weeks of exiting the womb. We actually argue until I realize I'm wrong. (BTW, IRL my grandma was as familiar with Don Zimmer as Duchess Catherine Middleton is with Death Row Records.)

 

Things conclude with the Dukes from The Dukes Of Hazzard in a Xarelto TV commercial. Why the hell wasn't it some ad I've actually paid attention to? Or at least an ad for a product I'm familiar with? RANNN-DOMMM. (BTW I'd still nail Catherine Bach today.)

 

 

 

Isn't Jim Barnett The One Who Does Interviews? (January 27, 2015)

 

After an exciting round of rearranging chairs at my mother's house (?), I find myself the sidekick to Golden State Warriors broadcaster Bob Fitzgerald—except we're detectives, not broadcasters. I don't remember a whole lot, but after we interview a suspect/witness/random individual (it wasn't clear), we exit to find we blocked the only lane of traffic in our direction by pulling over with flashers on.

 

Despite our grossly discourteous act, we are graciously allowed to cross the road and return to our car. BTW, I didn't say a word during our interview. Perhaps Fitz employed me as an intimidator??

 

 

 

Okily-Dokily, Satan! (January 26, 2015)

 

The Simpsons are on; in order to escape a meddling Homer, Ned sends himself to Hell. He does so by climbing in a homemade coffin with automated arms to close him in, and pressing a button to lower himself down. Though I can only remember one—Grampa chasing Ned's exes into a stairwell shouting "YOU take the stairs now!"—the episode is filled with funny moments and wouldn't have made a bad Halloween segment IRL.

 

Next, I'm filming a scene playing Emma Watson's....dad. (Boo! Why not sugar dad?) Emma asks me to dance with my wife, and we respond with the clumsiest, uncoordinated excuse for dance moves in creation. Then it hits me—my wife and I have no "Happy Dance" of our own! What kind of couple are we?

 

Sadly, I wake up before being told I'm not Emma's father and we can get naked. Again...boo.

 

 

 

The Janitor's Closet Used To Be Four Feet Down! (January 25, 2015)

 

A night of randomness: My IRL buds Steve and Jason fall off a stage and onto a deer, apparently killing it via broken neck. One Life To Live is resurrected...again. I'm giving a tour of remodeled local radio station KNBR, bugging everyone with my nostalgic stories of where what used to be, where who used to sit, etc. The only way tonight could've been more random: I throw a touchdown pass to Joe Biden on water skis.

 

 

 

They Dominate, Even In Dreams (January 24, 2015)

 

I am a Golden State Warrior bench warmer, and we win our first game on two late Stephen Curry 3's and 28 points from Andrew Bogut. Afterward, we all sing some pop song to Bogut in the locker room until a Klay Thompson prank sends me sprawling into a corner, to everyone's great joy. In our next game I'm allowed to play, but instructed to "do the same things at the hoop that I do 30 feet from the hoop." (Like what...inbound the ball?)

 

I do well though, and we're on our way to victory when my alarm goes off. D'oh!

 

 

 

Was The Meat Even Pork? (January 23, 2015)

 

We're having pig's feet—which in this vision, means meat removed from some chick's teeth. Seriously. Luckily, this segment lasts only briefly, because I become Hulk Hogan supervising training wrestlers in the parking lot of my mother's apartment. One needs three tries to successfully execute a suplex, which surprisingly doesn't hurt either one of them considering they land on concrete. Tough SOB's.

 

Skip to the 1250, where some spacey ex-military dude has entered uninvited, in search of my late IRL grandfather. Though he doesn't believe my explanation that Gramps is unavailable due to his being in a coffin for the past 36 years, I'm able to "escort" him outside. I then find out he got in two other times before. In real life, this would be tar-and-feather trap time.

 

 

 

In Fairness, She Didn't Say How Long (January 22, 2015)

 

For some reason I'm in CVS talking robberies with ex-NBA star Corey Maggette. A deliveryman has a stack of wine boxes topple over and I escape outside, where my "girlfriend" wants to borrow my car. She never returns. I end up sitting on the sidewalk outside in the dark while a cute CVS manager literally leans on me to do paperwork.

 

Next thing I know I'm walking a long trail behind a trio of Filipina women—one is young and fairly fit, one is slightly older with massive ankles (I'm under the impression she's getting over paralysis) and one is matronly with a cane. They are grossly slowing me down and it takes what seems like an hour to get around them. There's no reward when I finally do...cuz I wake up. Couldn't the cute one have at least winked? Come on!

 

 

 

Jermaine O'Neal Has Gone Cold (January 21, 2015)

 

I'm Tim Duncan, and my Spurs are playing the Lakers in a grocery store. When I commit three straight turnovers I attempt to bench myself, but no one else is there to sub in. Next thing I know I'm a Laker, and Spurs coach Gregg Popovich has brought the Jermaine O'Neal icicle out to unthaw and take Duncan's place.

Thinking fast, I kidnap the frozen center and hide him in the back freezer, too high for Pop to reach. Though I'm mocked for this unsportsmanlike tactic, the vision ends on a happy note with me playing with my IRL friends' kids in the middle of the frozen food aisle. That's what life is all about.

 

 

 

Better Than Her Underwear, I Suppose (January 20, 2015)

 

The scene: the "Target Customer Service Building". I enter with a huge personal bag containing a new box of vacuum parts—which I don't want. When the agents hassle me about trying to steal it, I tell them to keep it and attempt to leave. However, the building is a maze and there are literally dozens of agents moving around, congregating, blocking my way.

Finally I make it to the "real" Target, in search of a fishtank. I bring it home, since my fish are currently swimming around in a three-inch water stream on the floor.

 

Following a brief segment of George and Elaine from Seinfeld playing kickball in the grass, I find myself watching either Moesha or The Parkers, where some grandmother-type is dying. Her final wish: to see a white man wearing her gray wig. The camera acts as the man; I get a first-person perspective of Countess Vaughn and friends positioning the wig just right on the "man's head". That is the most random segment ever.

 

 

 

What Says "Fun" Like Charlie Rose? (January 19, 2015)

 

It's me and Chicken at McDonalds; I replace a drink I'm given because I suspect it's been spit in for some reason. We realize it's 6pm and the auto shop his car is at has closed. Initially turned away from a retrieval, I go off until Steve is given his car—as other customers are still waiting inside. WTF?

Next, we end up at some stranger's party. Steve gets wasted and the host is "entertaining" us with a PBS documentary, so we split to go hooping on a HUGE basketball court. (It's now morning somehow.) Before the game—which never starts—a loose ball rolls toward a group of thugs; they pretend to be ready to erupt before bursting into laughter and urging me to "chill".

 

After John Smoltz ends up in a brawl, I hit the locker room potty, passing a coach with a serious intestinal issue that is causing him to crap nonstop and fully funking up the building. End vision.

 

 

 

She's Not, She's Not Jenny From The Block (January 18, 2015)

 

Golden State Warriors broadcasters Bob Fitzgerald and Jim Barnett are working a Cardinals baseball game, with Jennifer Lopez playing LF and Todd Van Poppel the starting pitcher. When the Pirates go up 5-0, Cardinal fans boo. It is mentioned by Barnett that Sacramento Kings coach Ty Corbin's son is only on the team because it nets "free interviews" with his dad.

 

Things wrap with my IRL bud Robbie asking for info about our friends' credit card history via e-mail, and me singing Jon Secada's "Angel" in class with a former IRL classmate. Delightful. 

 

 

 

There, There. We Have A Special On 2-Topping... (January 16, 2015)

 

I walk a group of seniors to their "appointment", but when I come back for them an hour later, they're AWOL. During the search, I'm forced to deal with a construction worker dumping rocks around me and another one who won't let me pass until he pervertedly is distracted by a girl in shorts.

 

I SEARCH and SEARCH the premises, even disturbing other sleeping seniors in the process. I even am counseled by a pizza guy! Just as I remember they're on the second floor of the building...I awaken. 

 

 

 

At Least There's No Parking Meters Up There (January 15, 2015)

 

I'm zooming down Interstate 80 so wildly that my car ends up crashed high into the World Trade Center—without me in it somehow.

 

Next, I'm at my IRL dawg Ed's place, playing THE WORST baseball video game of the decade. Why do I say that? An annoying fan repeatedly chants something like "GET PAUL" over...and over...over again. Players are with the right team but the wrong uniforms (i.e. Joey Votto is a Red, his teammates are wearing Reds unis, but Votto is in Royals garb.) Of all people Jeremy Guthrie hits a two-run homer, which the announcer changes to a three-run homer for no reason. 

 

Things end with me as a mobster impersonating myself, and assualting my disbelieving mother as proof. Man alive...

 

 

 

So, WHAT'S The Deal With Bosses??? (January 13, 2015)

 

My old IRL baseball teammate, Stoph, is playing pepper against the side of the 1250. Not surprisingly, he smashes a window and books it. A pursuit begins but as I reach my driveway, I find myself at work (FedEx) instead. There, I and two partners go to a room upstairs to load our trucks (which is nowhere near how it's done for real, FYI.)

 

They leave, then S. Epatha Merkerson—Anita Van Buren from Law & Order—enters the room and fires me for being in this room unsupervised. She's remorseful but stern, so I depart. Next thing I know, I'm back home, practicing my stand-up routine. This is my most random vision of 2015 thus far.

 

 

 

Give Me Back My Look! (January 12, 2015)

 

According to my notes, someone stole the A-Team's "look" and stuck it in a safe. I do not recall that now, but I do recall my (late IRL) grandma using pets to get them back. However, Hannibal Smith salutes me for my "efforts".

Later I'm driving thru a Raley's parking lot and two separate people literally open my car door trying to sell me crap. (The crap was probably stolen along with the A-Team's "look". I'll spend way too much time trying to figure out what that meant.

 

 

 

Perhaps He Could Use A Horse And Carriage (January 11, 2015)

 

I'm driving in the 707 when suddenly my car loses power, barely able to go 5 mph. I pull over in front of a church to investigate and find my outfit has mysteriously changed to slacks and a white dress shirt—not ideal for checking under a hood.

 

Skip to me watching Married With Children and rather than me, it's Bud with the car problems. He complains to Al, who says if Bud can fix the car, a big stack of cash is his. Bud leaves—soon after the rest of the family does too, as they've decided to spend the cash promised to Bud. Seems about right.

 

 

 

That's My Ball, Bucko! (January 10, 2015)

 

Don't remember the early segments, but the final segment has me playing basketball with...Henry Winkler. I stuff a Winkler attempted layup, sending it far across the blacktop. A passing jogger throws back my ball, as well as a random ball lying around. Winkler decides he likes the other ball better and simply flings mine away like garbage. Screw you, Fonzie.

 

 

 

It's Only Flour? D'OH! (January 9, 2015)

 

I'm doing my route, which is composed of just a few stops. Arriving at one of them, one of the packages—a large box—is already wide-open. Not knowing what to do, I simply stack a whole bunch of other boxes on top of it and leave them all at the customer's door.

 

Next, I'm attempting to order some Jack-In-The-Box burger and am told it's $28. "I only wanted one!" I explain to the cashier. "I know, they're $28." she says. Things close with a soap opera scene in which a minister is hung, Homer Simpson is participating in a cocaine sting with live actors and I'm "counseling" one of the actresses on all her unplanned pregnancies.

 

 

 

Did I Walk There Myself?? (January 8, 2015)

 

My late IRL Uncle Bubba is giving me college football tips. Even though IRL he knew as much about college football as a mallard does. The news appears on TV, warning of a chemical spill on I-80—which, upon glancing outside, we just happen to be housed next to. Terrific.

 

Before we can ingest any toxins, I find myself positioned in my mom's apartment complex—with a gun. I fire five rounds sky high, then instantly realize the potential ramifications. Deciding to bury the gun, the next thing I know I'm in prison. No arrest, no trial—just lockup.

 

Prison isn't so bad; it's more like the loony bin I once called home IRL. However, I go to use the bathroom—yes, I'm able to walk unescorted down a hall to the can—it's comically small and the toilet is clogged by...waste. I'm cool with it—in prison, it's better to complain about something exiting the rear than entering.

 

 

 

Yeah, I've Been Workin' Out... (January 7, 2015)

 

I've joined The Young & The Restless. Under duress, I contribute a vote crucial to a company takeover. As I exit, a group of random skirts eye me with venom; one is poised to smack me in the back/shoulder with a magazine. "Go ahead, it won't hurt," I urge her. She sarcastically responds, "Wow. Man of steel." SO many legs in this scene—I'd melt IRL. 

 

Things should've ended right there...but my stupid brain just had to wrap things up at the 1250. Even worse, nothing interesting happened there.

 

 

 

One-Yard Penalty (January 6, 2015)

 

At my friend Diana's, where I keep asking to go pee. She directs me to go outback in the dirt, but her fictional preteen sons won't give me any privacy. I finally decide to "risk prison" and go right in front of them. As I walk back to the house, the Baseball Hall of Fame is announcing their new inductees—which include Livan Hernandez. If you don't follow baseball, Livan Hernandez belongs in the Hall of Fame as much as mustard belongs on cake.

 

Lastly, I apply for a job somewhere, and the desk girl—who's hot in a rejected groupie sort of way, if that's such a thing—directs me to the waiting area. There, I watch a Cowboys playoff game where an out-of-bounds kickoff is spotted on the 41-yard line. ???

 

 

 

Don't Ballplayers Wear Flip Glasses? (January 5, 2015)

 

I take my kid to Wal-Mart, where her IRL older sisters pelt her with rubber balls until their mom pulls into the store to load them all up. My ex is driving my IRL crush's vehicle—that's gotta mean something. After a period of logging MLB scores with Chipper Jones (who's wearing ridiculous dark glasses for some reason), I'm shown to be having an affair with an IRL bud's wife; we're agreeing to never tell my bud the truth.

 

For the millionth time, I would never, EVER do that to any of my dawgs—and have never EVER wanted to. Lovely as all their wives are, they could slither on top of me wet and nude and I WOULD...NOT...ACT. I don't know why the hell these scenes happen, but they sure bring unwarranted guilt.

 

 

 

 

Look! I'm A Referee! (January 3, 2015)

 

I am back at middle school, sharing a class with an IRL former friend who ditched me last year. I work to ignore her and eventually leave to request a schedule change; it's too difficult being with "Shannon". When I finish, I spot my IRL five-year-old daughter walking alone down the street—albeit to her mother, but still. (Personally, I'd be walking the other way, but that's another story.)

 

Skip to a Warriors/Rockets game; Golden State has somehow put up 200 points on Houston. Play is interrupted when a retarded woman repeatedly crosses the court. Two security guards finally drag her off, exposing her entire, uh, portly lower half (with panties, mercifully).

 

 

People Are People (January 2, 2015)

 

I am in charge of a group of "special" people, but their bus takes so long to pick them up, they all turn into old black people.

 

 

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