The Skillz Report

 

That Escalated Quickly (June 30, 2015)

 

June ends with me entering a shopping mall whose shops have not opened yet. A few steps behind me, a man and his son make the same discovery. As I reach my car, the man's young son is tantrumming as they walk through the lot back to their car. A middle-aged black lady tries to soothe him, in a calm, happy manner. All seems well.

 

A few moments later, I check my rearview mirror and find the woman now beating the living hell out of the boy. Dad naturally intervenes, and the two adults wallop each other into unconsciousness. I debate for several moments whether or not to dial 911 before my aunt—who I didn't even know was there—jumps in the car. 911 is forgotten—I gotta share this tale with my auntie!

 

 

Stand In Line...To SELL Pizza? (June 29, 2015)

 

IRL, I'd commented on a friend's Facebook page regarding an injury her 9-year-old kid suffered. They both appear in tonight's vision, with my friend super-micro-overprotective-managing me...loading her kid in the car. Furrowed brow, bitchy instructions, the general feeling I am f-----g it up. Why I'm loading the kid at all instead of her isn't explained.

 

Skip to some random high-rise office—I'm delivering pizza, and my boss has the cleaning woman ride up with us to reduce "overhead". If there's logic behind that strategy, I'm not smart enough to decipher it.

 

I exit the elevator and head toward the office alone. There is a long line outside, and I am forced to wait along with everyone else (to deliver pizza?!). Eventually I get inside, and a staffer tries to confirm her order. Having no clue what she ordered, I fake a confirmation. Only after leaving do I realize she kept my "delivery forms", so my boss and I are forced to wait again to retrieve them. A premature awakening by my kid is actually welcomed for once.

 

 

They're Why I'm Everything I Am (June 28, 2015)

 

Don't know whose brilliant idea this was, but an NBA-vs-fans 3-on-3 is underway; I watch it with my boy Fleazoe. Some chick he knows, after an earlier personal space violation, plops herself right on my lap and helps herself to my fries. We ditch the, uh, "competition" for Fleazoe's (fictional) new mansion.

There, our entire crew meets up—with some of us belting out "Because You Loved Me" by Celine Dion. Beautiful.

 

After a throwaway segment—some softball players pissed me off by trying to have a dog bat—I end up on my old junior high basketball courts. Apparently my assignment is to measure a suitable distance for a ball-throwing contest of some sort.

But the courts are overrun by cars—at least until practically all of them start up and take off. One car pins me against another, not enough to hurt but enough to warrant a worry-filled apology. I get neither.

 

 

Oh, Snap! (June 27, 2015)

 

Watching a Maury-esque talk show; relatives of murder victims are interviewed. Several guests speak; the mood is serious and somber as emotional tales are shared.

 

Eventually, audience members chime in. One 30ish woman directs her comment toward a guy who'd spoken earlier. At first she's warm and sympathetic, but out of nowhere she flips, wondering if the guest's "fat ass" didn't commit the murder himself. Everyone is shocked; the guy keeps his composure and holds his own but after the outburst, the topic changes mid-show to illegal immigrants—prompting two women seated upfront to nervously move to the back.

 

 

Larry Legend Had Jimmy's Shoes (June 26, 2015)

 

A sizable gathering is underway outside the 1250—we're having a BBQ. Joba Chamberlain (former Yankee pitcher; current Tiger) is present, though he looks more like ex-Giant Aubrey Huff and is far more affable. Also there is "Rick", who is plastered and wants to fight him for no clear reason. Despite this, Joba hits it off with a very attractive blonde and they make plans for a date—all are happy for the young pair.

 

Later, I'm watching a Knicks game. Their opponent is, well, crappy, since every miss on their end leads to a fastbreak dunk by Pat Ewing.

As the blowout wears on, Muggsy Bogues plays his final game (which happened over a decade ago IRL) and Larry Bird attempts a flat-footed dunk from the foul line—impressively making it to the rim somehow.

 

Skip to a parking lot late at night, where I debate pilfering antifreeze that inexplicably is stored outside the auto shop well after closing. Ultimately, the risk of a security camera deters me. (Not my morals, which weren't as strong as I thought.)

 

 

 

How To Get Away With SEXY (June 25, 2015)

 

Tina Turner is in my presence. My mom wants to hook up with her (not like that) but neither of us know where she lives. The search leads me to a very attractive chick who resembles a younger Viola Davis, in cutoff jean shorts and thick as hell. I become obsessed with landing her...and finally do! Score one for Skillz.

 

After that, it's a mashup of a very sexy Melinda Culea (Amy from The A-Team) in lingerie on a magazine cover, me executing a fastbreak dunk that ends with my whole arm in the basket Vince-Carter style, me losing my patience with an idiot convenience store clerk, and my mom and cousin lying on the 1250 bedroom floors throwing stuff at each other across the hall. Nobody said night visions have to make sense.

 

 

Who Owns Five Rubix Cubes? (June 23, 2015)

 

I'm trying to navigate Louisiana Street in the 707 but can't, because a giant red wooden fence is blocking the railroad tracks. I ponder jumping it but ultimately just kick it a few times.

 

Skip to a toy store; I see an entire section of stuff Josie would like, but it turns out this section is actually the property of a woman who lives in the toy store—she's packing up to move. Good for her.

 

 

"With The 7th Pick, The Warriors Select Harrison Barnes, NBA..." (June 22 2015)

 

Foggy, except for the Warriors re-drafting Harrison Barnes and issuing him the #45 instead of his usual #40.

 

 

Hey, Cops Play DraftKings Too! (June 20, 2015)

 

The infamous Bundys from Married With Children are introduced on some show, and Al gets "served" onstage. Which isn't hard to do, but still.

 

Skip to the 1250, where a passing cop wants to talk Reggie Bush with me. (?) I then get a call from "the party"; a jolly guy didn't get my phone number (yet he called me somehow?)

We talk ball for a few, but I have literally no clue who he is. Of course, that doesn't matter to some folks.

 

Lastly, still outside the 1250, night has fallen and a junk yard appears. Hostages have been taken and they're guarded by Russians—whose leader is a young, waify single mother. After sneaking up on a few guards/combatants and clobbering them with a bat, my kid wakes me up for breakfast. Damnit!

 

 

The New Ryan Lewis (June 19, 2015)

 

My musical collaboration with Macklemore has been rewarded with a Grammy—which I somehow know in advance—and I must head to...Monterey, CA, for the award show. Upon arrival, I film a promo with myself, a white-suited Justin Timberlake, and two nameless skanks each entering an elevator. Justin is cool but when he and one skank leave, I get a frosty shoulder from the remaining skank. Hey, I didn't do anything!

 

Inside the auditorium, I find there is no seat for me at all—not under my real name or nickname. Macklemore is pissed off but I chalk it up to incompetence and just leave. I'm more pissed about forgetting to drop shoes off at my cousin's house in San Jose than the Grammy snafu.

 

(There was also something about Manny Ramirez and a broken street where the residents determine which corners get signs...but I couldn't defragment it.)

 

 

STTOPPPPP!!! (June 18, 2015)

 

I'm riding back to our warehouse with Dawn from the Rob, Arnie and Dawn radio show, along with some other Boris Kodjoe-type dude at the wheel. I'm after a goodbye smooch from Dawn and can't wait to return. However, plans are dashed by Boris' poor driving—he is about to back over a small trailer while parking at the warehouse.

 

The music is up loud and Boris cannot hear my warnings...CRUNCH. Somehow the front end is damaged by backing over the trailer—our boss Rob is displeased, and Dawn gets away before I get my smooch. Instead, I'm stuck eating at a picnic table with a former IRL classmate who won't shut up for two seconds. At this moment, I'm really hating life and my crap luck.

 

 

There, There, Mom. Open Wide. (June 17, 2015)

 

A General Hospital vision for old times' sake. A lead character has died, and his brother returns home to comfort their mother. And by comfort, I mean basically make out with her. 

When another character won't let me rearrange his room—which is full of my IRL furniture—Goren and Eames of Law & Order: Criminal Intent show up with a bevy of questions. (One of them should be "Skillz, why do you keep drinking apple juice right before sleep?")

 

 

What, Facebook Was Down? (June 16, 2015)

 

The 49ers have at last won another Super Bowl, all because of my winning punt return! But nobody I know is aware I even play for them—or particularly interested. I go around some campus buying up school newspapers to prove my heroics really happened.

 

Next, a mouthy teen student shoves the instructor. I challenge her to shove me, which she does. SO I simply hoist her over my shoulder and physically throw her out of class.

 

In closing, I find myself driving a bus with steering wheels at both ends. My "route" takes me through offices, and I literally have to knock furniture out of the way with my hand to fit on the "road". Meanwhile, passengers are trying to take advantage of my distraction by requesting unscheduled stops and fare refunds. Hey, help me with this damn furniture and maybe I'll accomodate!

 

 

Worst Fear (June 15, 2015)

 

This one isn't particularly one to remember.

It starts at some crib with Chicken and one of his boyz, who hands us all a piece of random, unnamed meat to snack on that could be gorilla for all we know. As we snack, our host gets in a HUGE argument with his family, forcing Chicken, myself, Josie and a friend of hers (?) to awkwardly split. Chicken, however, is drunk, and charges out way ahead of the rest of us.

 

Trying so hard to catch up to him (our ride) separates me from the kids; I FREAK and somehow teleport home, calling anyone and everyone for help through petrified sobs. When I realize I have a car of my own—fancy that—I take off on my own search, but it's unresolved. (You're damn right I hugged my kid tight upon awakening.)

 

At least things end light. Buster Posey is catching for the Giants, but while he's looking away his pitcher hits him in the leg with a curveball. Inexplicably, Posey blames the batter.

 

 

Stop, Or I'll Blow Your Makeup Off! (June 14, 2015)

 

I'm protecting the "President"—a small, uninteresting woman—inside a bank. My weapon of choice is a two-grip semi of some sort that more resembles a squirt gun than anything. Across the way, a 40ish blonde teller is angry about my having a gun on the premises and vocalizes it at length.

 

Somehow, I follow her home and create a rape scenario during which a gun just might come in handy. Her response: a frustrated "I could use a good rape right about now!" The conversation has turned. Okaaaay, then. 

 

Meanwhile, the "President" has gone missing outside and is not found.

 

 

Psychos? Yes. Pans? No (June 13, 2015)

 

Alex' daughter Jade is rooming with me overnight at some San Jose hotel, which happens to be hosting a psych convention. (Don't go there, pervs. She's 13) We are subject to many patient outbursts throughout the evening, along with staff going in and out of our room without so much as a knock—one even measures drapes for the next guest! There is even a staffer at a desk in the restroom. 

 

When a stack of dirty pans manifests itself, I briefly step out of our room...and the door simply vanishes, though it reappears after I brush my teeth with a mini scrub brush by accident. Soon, it hits me I gotta get this girl to school an hour away the next day...only to realize school is now out. Jade asks me what I think about hyphenating "Ferguson" to her existing name.

 

 

"F" This Class (June 12, 2015)

 

I am seated next to a classmate who, IRL, I haven't seen in 17 years, was never friends with, and don't care about at all. I keep grabbing her stuff by accident (which is spread all over our joined desk mixed with mine), angering her. When the instructor sees this, he returns a stack of assignments to me—each one stamped with "F". So I just walk out, never to return.

 

 

What, No Slap? Nice... (June 10, 2015)

 

A friend is talking too much, so I start massaging her boobs, saying "Doesn't that feel gooood?" Also, we watch an A-Team episode from 1920.

 

Later, an IRL former classmate I haven't seen in at least 20 years, Derek, is now the son of NBA Hall-of-Famer David Robinson.

I come across Robinson stabbed repeatedly in a hotel room hallway. Rather than call 911, I'm riddled with thoughts of how I'm going to break it to Derek. Only when I finally break it to Derek do I realize I never called for help...and am relieved that someone else did. (Robinson lives).

 

 

Maybe It Was The President? (June 9, 2015)

 

Riding along in a vehicle with...John Henton, I viciously struggle to keep my parked car stopped in place as the vehicle in front of me pulls away. The car becomes a taxi, and I deliver a passenger to "Pennsylvania Street" for 67 cents. Randomly—to put it mildly—things end with Miley and some other whore practicing twerking in a department store women's section.

.

 

Delete The Texts This Time! (June 7, 2015)

 

This is confusing: Kyrie Irving and Kevin Love—injured members of the Cavaliers who IRL are currently playing the Warriors in the NBA Finals—are now Hawks, who are playing the Warriors in my Night Vision edition of the Finals. Two more Hawks get hurt and the Warriors are winning easily behind the contributions of Harrison Barnes and Leandro Barbosa. But the ball is slightly smaller than normal and whispers of another "DeflateGate" start.

 

 

Visions Of Ex-Friends (June 6, 2015)

 

I'm at the parking lot of my mom's apartment, waiting for others to vacate her space. When they do, rather than park a car, I practice my dribbling skillz while two black chicks gossip a few feet away. (BTW, I'm a far better dribbler here than I could ever hope to be IRL.)

 

Soon, the gossipee—a young Eva LaRue—appears. We end up cuddling right there in the space (of course, I manage to feel her up and down under the guise of "comfort"). I discover an IRL ex-friend has loaned my car out to some stranger, and this segment concludes with me pacing up and down the street until dawn waiting for my car to re-emerge.

 

(Additionally, I ended up in a fight with another IRL ex-friend as Giants announcer Mike Krukow supplied combat tips. Don't ask. I just document them.)

 

 

Is That With Or Without The Pounds Of Gold? (June 5, 2015)

 

My buds and I are literally in a pile on grass near one of our houses. A few other buds are "covertly" lying in higher grass in an attempt to "get paid" by snapping pix of some girl in a bikini (who didn't appear to be a celeb).

 

Things weirden up when I suddenly find myself at a Giants game. An idiot kid reaches over a brick wall (in foul ground, which doesn't exist at AT&T Park IRL) to interfere with a Hunter Pence popup catch. Replay takes so long I'm compelled to check on some milk in the outfield....unaware it's actually in a fridge. Fancy that. 

 

Tonight wraps with Face from The A-Team using Carlton from The Fresh Prince to calculate the odds of beating B.A. in a race. I can't make this stuff up. Nobody can make this stuff up.

 

 

Officer Mailman (June 4, 2015)

 

I have reunited with the kids of a former family friend (who, mysteriously, are still the same ages they were 20 years ago). Wondering where the third sibling is, I'm told she choked to death. Okay, then.

 

Later, I'm approaching Target and spot my 5th-grade teacher Mr. Kleine and old pal Paul in front of me. I finally catch up to Mr. Kleine, who isn't in Target to shop—he now works at the Panera inside. I briefly turn my head and when I turn back, Mr. Kleine has morphed from a 6'4", ponytailed white man to a 5'8" short-haired Filipino. That's some powerful Panera.

 

On foot again, I pass by—not enter—the 1250. A mailman stops me and demands to see proof that I once lived there. ??? 

 

 

Soaps And Urine (June 3, 2015)

 

This one was about General Hospital, so I'll skip details only fans would understand and just tell you about the lawyer. His name is Mark Aguirre (pronounced Uhg-wire) and his client, a military official of some kind, is played by Mark McGwire. Learning his counsel's name, McGwire's character plays on the name similarity with this gut-buster: "Seems hard to spell." HAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!!!

 

During commercial, I head to pee. An undershirt is pitched to the floor tent-like, about a foot off the ground. I pee in that rather than the toilet. It holds somehow. Since I wake up right then, disposal isn't dealt with.

 

 

There Better Not Be A Smelly Cat Inside! (June 2, 2015)

 

I'm an armed courier, and I've stopped at CVS to buy a pair of women's sneakers. Afterward, I get the brilliant idea to leave my bag outside the store while I service the businesses across the street. But then I realize A) the businesses are farther than I realized, and B) somebody might steal the shoes.

 

So I drive across the street and meet with my trainee. He is instructed to service a buffet while I service a small Japanese (?) bar. My cusotmer is busy so I join the trainee in the buffet—finding his dropped money bag outside the office. I'm about to scold him, but he, the manager, and the entire staff are circled around a table with an expensive bike on it, trying to figure out how to protect it. 

 

We are asked to take it and are rewarded with two huge to-go boxes labeled to "Ross" and "Phoebe".

 

 

 

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