I'm bored at work, so I'm gonna tell you all about Jimmy Murphy.
This is Jimmy on the right. I'm on the left, obviously offended by something he's said.
He has tubes in his head, has had thirty-three brain surgeries, and has died on the operating table more than his fair share of times.
Despite all this, Jimmy is one happy-go-lucky motherfucker, who enjoys sandwiches, being barked at by his dog Spud, Late Night with Conan, and generally being Jimmy.
I don't think I can convey the true essence of Jimmy to you effectively over the Internet, but I'll tell two stories from Fest last year.
Jimmy, perhaps as a result of aforementioned brain surgeries, is slightly absentminded. When we went to Gainesville, I told him repeatedly not to lose his wallet, as he needed the return Greyhound ticket within to return home.
Saturday morning at nine AM, who should come knocking at the door of our motel room but Jimmy. I half-drunkenly stumble to the door, only to find Jimmy there, staring at me. "I lost my wallet," he said.
This sends me into a blind rage, and I begin stomping around the motel room, screaming at him. "Goddammit, Jimmy!" I say, "You lost the one fucking thing I told you not to lose!"
"I know!" he cries, standing in the doorway, watching me attempt to look around the room. I'm still too drunk and half asleep, so everything is blurry and I'm not really looking, I'm just throwing shit around and cursing.
"How the fuck are you gonna get back now? You've screwed the pooch on this one, Jimmy!"
"I know!" he yells at me, still standing in the doorway.
I kick my friend Fee, who's sleeping at the foot of the bed. "Whazzat?" he groans, and I look at him and yell, "Jimmy lost his fucking wallet!"
"What the fuck, Jimmy?" comes Fee's half-awake response.
" wailed Jimmy.
"You know what?" I said, rubbing my eyes and squinting in the light coming in from behind Jimmy. "Fuck it, let me go back to sleep."
Two hours later, we found it in the corner of the room, wrapped in a pair of Jimmy's boxers.
Later that day, we were out walking near Common Grounds and Jimmy was carrying a jug of water. Paddy was standing on a streetcorner with some people, we said hey. Paddy asked Jimmy for some water, and was offered an Aderol in return. Jimmy turned it down, and we spent the rest of the day yelling at him about it.
Jimmy can party - if you see him at Fest, scream, "Jimmy Murphy!" as loud as possible, then go over and say hello. It'll confuse the hell out of him, much to the enjoyment of you and those around you.