Well chicos, this is it. Here ends yet another chapter (er, or the first) of Jeety’s Joint. I am writing from the Jester Center for the final time, ever (can you hear the angels singing?). The year went fast and included quite a few milestones. The Vertigo U2 concert, Kevin & Jen getting a new car…. and then a new life form, a National Championship, a Superbowl win, Jackson went blind, Mom acquired the covetted “grandma” role, Scott fell in a pool, Jackie’s flyin’ helicopters and sellin’ pills (my dealer!) and the list goes on and on… I did a few things too. Not the point.

Okay, so when I started this post (several hours ago) I had “Great Expectations” (ohhh, Dickens reference! who’s classy?), but now I’m just pretty tired. I’m about to crawl in the oh-so-comfortable Jester bed for the last time… turn the lights off and say adios to Freshman year! Thanks for reading, if you have been. My guess is that I’ll be taking the summer off, but I honestly have no idea. Maybe I’ll be motivated to keep it going (but I sorta doubt it, except maybe major events). Anyways, “See you in September… or lose you, to another blog.” …as they say.

Be cool, my babies.

I forgot to take this before I began taking everything down… it’s not an authentic view of the room in its prime, but it’s sorta close.

Being a celebrity like me… it’s not easy. People constantly spotting you on the streets… begging for autographs. Yes people, I AM the Jeets of Jeety’s Joint. Quoting the words of Jerry Seinfeld, who quotes the tagline of the movie “The Elephant Man,” … I AM NOT AN ANIMAL!

Perhaps my feelings would best be described by Sally Weaver, college roommate of Susan Ross, George Costanza’s former fiancee. After her immediate skyrocketing success with her one-woman show, “Jerry Seinfeld is the Devil,” she had this to say to Kramer, who had recently just taken a vow of silence: (note: in your inner monologue, you have to read the following lines in Kathy Griffin’s voice, running even faster than usual, for optimal effect)

Hey! Your Jerry’s friend. You’re Goofy, mind if I sit. My show is going really well. Have you seen it yet? you should. Everybody else have and you know what? I got recognized the other day, how weird is that? I know. At first I liked the attention but it’s like Whoa!! take three steps back, get a life, okay. But then there wouldn’t be a Sally Weaver without the fans, know what I mean? But who am I, anyway? I mean there’s Sally Weaver the woman, Sally Weaver the artist, Sally Weaver the person…

Well, that was fun. But seriously folks, there ARE perks to my job. See, since The University of Texas knows that “I’m kind of a big deal… people know me,” they really roll out the red carpet when I come around. The most recent case was getting an all-inclusive, exclusive tour of UT’s basketball facilities. I’m talkin’ locker rooms(men and women), showers, hot tubs, team lounges, coaches rooms, treatment/training room, work out room, practice courts and finally onto the floor of the Erwin Center iteself. Our tour guide? None of than Rick Barnes himself, Texas’ mens’ basketball coach.

He is one classy man, let me tell you. Evidence of this: I noticed as we were walking around the Cooley Pavilion (where all the stuff actually is–the facilities in the Erwin Center aren’t so great and are only really used at halftime, I guess) that on the cuff of his shirt was stitched “RB.” How classy is that? Not only that, but the whole tour took over an hour… who just gives up an hour to tote around a few college students and season ticket holders? Unbelievable. Anyways, here are a few pictures from our wild adventure with MUH BOY, Rick Barnes:

Well, just in case you thought I was lying, here’s photographic evidence! That’s me, my best friend RB and Sammy’s roommate Jaime. Shortly after this picture was taken, Rick asked me if anything should happen to him, if I would take care of his kids. We’re tight like that. Anyways, on the right is what’s painted above the guy’s practice court. Pretty intense, eh?

Here’s all the ridiculous trophies that T.J. Ford acquired, while here at Texas. Unfortunately at the moment, all this stuff is in a restricted place, where nobody can see. They’re currently working on getting a place to display all their awesome trophies, jerseys, photos, etc. And the final picture is Coach B in the locker room. Let me just say… that their locker room is nicer than most hotel lobbies. Each locker has the capability of having a TV lodged in it (though they don’t, because as he said, if they did it, everyone would want to). There are 8×10s above each locker, along with a plaque for the name of the player. A huge flat screen tv is in the front of the room along with a huge sledge hammer, awarded to the player with the biggest hit (If there’s not one, no one gets it. He’s very serious about that, which I find awesome. Also, another note about flat screen TVs. Both the women and men’s lounges have FIVE enormous flat screen plasma TVs on the walls. The recliners in those rooms were selected after watching Shaq’s episode of Cribs. Yeah.) I may or may not have more pictures later, none of these are mine. Sam and her friends took a bunch, so we’ll see. Anyways, Rick just called, so I gotta go. Enjoy!

Sadly, many great moments in history aren’t documented until a time much later than the actual event. This… is one such case.

I don’t have any specific dates or anything, but I’m fairly certain that come May 12-18… somewhere in that range, a significant anniversary will take place. Ten years ago, that week, the nickname Jeets was born. Hard to believe? It’s true. And because of this fact, that means that after May 16th (ish) I will have been known as Jeets longer than my God-given name. (What was it, again?)

By no means was this an easy process, however. “Jeets” did not just spring forth from nowhere. And with that, I will now launch into the Jeets story, perhaps for the first time in writing.

Third grade was winding down. You know how it is… old lady Dawson was really pushin’ our noses to the grindstone. As if the first year with Science and Social Studies wasn’t enough, she made huge cut backs in story time. (Okay, all of this is basically a lie. She was the coolest teacher in Elementary school, but it provides for better exposition.) Third graders had to eat lunch on the stage, since the first and second graders filled up the cafeteria and “couldn’t handle” the tightly enclosed space on the stage. Whatever. Needless to say, it was a rough year.

But alas! What’s that on the horizon? ‘Tis Kennywood day! The school picnic, the most glorious day of the year. Sometime during my birthday week every year, Beaver Area school district sponsored a day where the students could let loose (hm, though it WAS on a Saturday… kind of lame) at Kennywood Park, the local amusement park. It may not have the fanciest rollercoasters or snazziest (BOOYA! Snazzy!) games, but it was home.

To be honest, I don’t really have any idea who I went with that year. At some point however, I definitely met up with Kevin and Jen… and Jeff Dawson. I remember that distinctly, in line for the Magic Carpet or the Pirate Ship (I’m thinking Carpet). And unfortunately, the rest of the details of that trip are a bit vague. I have no idea if Matt Belgie, my church’s youth pastor and good friend of the family, was there or not. But he would have a part to play, yet!

Back in the day, Kennywood used to have an awesome measuring system for certain rides. You know the deal, there’s some animal/vegetable/mineral that the children measure themselves against, to see if they can partake in the gloriousness of that particular ride. Kennywood’s system used to involve these completely arbitrary characters that no one knew anything about, and Kennywood never bothered explaining them. They were wooden, flat people painted in a vast array of retina-burning colors. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the names of the other characters, but the most important was, of course, Jeeters.

Who? What? Why? No one knows.

The young man was a white, caucasian male, dressed in yellow overalls and a green top hat. The top hat was a source of great hatred, for many children. Exactly how tall is he, under that hat? Why can Jeeters ride the ride, if he’s not even as tall as he says? Who does this fraud think he is?! And why does he keep smiling like that?!?!

The connection between the wooden Jeeters and the 3rd grade Jeeters is a bit of a fuzzy one. Matt Belgie, the culprit or honorable namer, depending on how you look at it, either felt I had a physical resemblance to him or I was not tall enough for a certain ride. Either way, the name was bestowed upon me at some point on Kennywood Day. And from that day forth, I was forever known as some form of Jeeters by him, my brothers and soon many many others.

Jeeters was not quite enough though. A series of taglines followed, the first of which was “McFresh.” I’m not entirely sure where this one came from, but obviously I had some sort of fresh appeal that people seemed to enjoy. The next change came after I attended a series of graduation parties and well, needless to say, I tore up the dance floors. I mean… c’mon. McFresh was officially changed to McFly, by JB Bittner at Jamie Biss’s graduation party (the day after Erin Windles, I believe). At that point, I still wasn’t sure I liked “Jeeters” in the first place. But all these changes were too much to handle. After all, it was MY name.

After a while and about a thousand other changes, I got used to it. Eventually, the tags became too long and even Jeeters itself was shrunk to just “Jeets” and there it stayed for a while, and there it would return. The following is the best list I can compile of the different names between then now and everything in between. Unfortunately, they do not reflect any order or length of use. They are as follows: Jeeters McFresh, Jeeters McFly, Jeeters, Jeets, Jeets2000, Jeets2K, J2K, Jeet, Jeety, Beatnik Jeet, Jeetsy, Jeety Baby, J Baby (NOT Baby J. That’s Christmastime Jesus) and Jeetis. Botched attempts, mostly supplied by Mr. Brauch, my soccer coach include: Beach, Meat, Geez and Bleachers. (Uhh, yeah. Dunno about that last one.)

Some have opted to stick with the singular Jeet, while others return to the more traditional Jeets. It’s really personal preference. Then there are those people who call me Jeff, or some form thereof. I don’t know what that’s all about. Okay, not really. Some people are uncomfortable with nicknames. It’s alright. In fact, I sometimes feel weird calling myself Jeets, but have no problem with being called it.

Well, I think that might be it. Not terribly exicitng, but people always ask and now I’ll have a place to point them. I highly encourage any additions or comments on this story. Testimonials would be great. I obviously don’t remember quite a few of the details, so… have at it.

I will leave you now, with a history of OTHER nicknames I’ve had, which might make you realize why I embrace this one. Enjoy…

Geoffery Beane, Wild Borg Bean, Borg, Bean, Blue Bean, Eater, and my personal favorite, Troll.

Here is a scenic shot of Kennywood, with the Phantom’s Revenge in the background. On the right, we have Yang Gu. I took this picture from his blog, because it’s awkward.