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1 Sep 20, 8 tweets, 3 min read
Friends, I have decided that this week's story will be the last for a little while. Not forever—just for a bit. I have some big projects coming due, and I also need to avoid the Internet after Away comes out. I am a delicate creature.
But thank you sincerely for your kindness, for making me laugh, and for telling me your own stories. I can't always reply but I read them all.

Friday's story will be the 21st. This week I'll count down your favourite five, for the benefit of the late joiners.
Coming in at No. 5—and also the first quarantine story, from April 8: "Pete Simon Saves the Day."

(And which also featured a very special cameo in the comments.)

The fourth-most popular quarantine story was a recent one: "The Best Joe in America." Joe, who is smart and redneck enough not to be on Twitter, appreciated the love. I did, too.

Nearly forgot! The third-most popular quarantine story (so far): "Let's Do Bert and Ernie." It upset some readers, and I wish I could edit it a little. Improvement will have to wait for future editions. It's like me that way.

Quarantine story No. 2 is a story about No. 1: "Pissboy Sat Alone." Still totally perplexed why this one did as well as it did: 2.5 million readers!

I thought it would tank. *Fozzy Bear mouth*

And the most popular of the quarantine stories so far: "Dr. Ross is Not Real."

One more today at noon, and then a little break. One day you'll just be sitting here, minding your own business, and suddenly there I'll be, telling a story about poop.

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More from @EnswellJones

Chris Jones Profile picture
29 Jan
Back in 2004, Ricky Williams, the American football player, left the Miami Dolphins after a third strike for smoking weed and disappeared. He’d had a notable career besides, but this was the capper: He said goodbye to his coach from Hawaii and vanished off the face of the Earth.
I was like, I want to be the guy who finds him. My memory is a little foggy here, but I think I got Ricky’s email address from the godfather of one of Esquire’s editors. It was an AOL account, I remember. I wrote Ricky and asked him if he’d talk to me if I found him.
He replied! And he said if I found him, he would tell me everything. AMAZING. But first—finding him. There were reports that he’d been in Italy, Fiji, Japan, and, most recently, Australia. A guy who’d felt trapped was now making the most of his freedom. Ricky was on THE MOVE.
Read 15 tweets
Chris Jones Profile picture
15 Jan
In 2009, I was driving to Montana to teach at U of M. (I can only apologize to my former students. You can imagine how many mistakes I made.) Plan was, I’d drive with all our stuff. My then-wife and still-current-kids would fly out after I got settled. What could go wrong?
At the time, I had a very big beard. En route, I decided I would look younger, and therefore seem cooler to my students, without it. I was 36 at the time. There was no way any student would ever think I was anything like “cool.” Still. It was time for my manky beard to go.
I was in a hotel in Fargo when I took it off. If you’ve never removed a beard, I must tell you: A beard looks better on your face than in the sink. My mum hates when I have a beard, and two Christmases ago, I shaved it off and wrapped it for her as a present. It looked like this:
Read 11 tweets
Chris Jones Profile picture
8 Jan
After I shit the bed with my dad in it in Hong Kong*, my bowels were never quite right and got progressively worse. My calamitous movements became legend. At one friend’s house, there was a sign in the bathroom. PEOPLE WHO CAN’T TAKE DUMPS HERE: CHRIS.
My guts were so rank, I remember my GOOD poops more than my bad ones. In 1996, I took a poop in a French youth hostel that I still think about like a lost love. That poop was transcendent. People who poop like that all the time… They have no idea how lucky they are.
Things came to a head, so to speak, when I went to university. (Hi, @UBishops!) I lived in a dorm, Mackinnon, that had two big bathrooms for, like, 40 kids. They were co-ed. Absolute nightmare. But my first day, I somehow got in and out without anyone else seeing me.
Read 15 tweets
Chris Jones Profile picture
18 Dec 20
My parents didn’t have much at Christmas when they were kids. My mum remembers one year she got an orange, and it was a big deal. For our first few years in Canada, money was tight. Somehow, they still gave us ridiculous Christmases. I mean, Santa helped. But still.
My brother, my sister, and I would get up early, run downstairs, see our piles of presents, wake up my parents—who always seemed strangely tired to me—and then take turns opening gift after gift. I remember an Atari 2600. A GI Joe hovercraft. A Norco Spitfire BMX. Awesome.
Anyway, as we grew up, my parents took to hiding our gifts off-site, because my brother was a snoopy bastard. One year, they hid everything at our neighbours, the Browns. We lived in the country, so they were pretty far away. Christmas Eve, there was a massive ice storm.
Read 14 tweets
Chris Jones Profile picture
27 Nov 20
Charley, my 14-year-old son, is autistic. One of his peccadillos: He’s constantly asking people questions about themselves. Sometimes that’s fine. Sometimes that’s awkward, like when he asks a stranger, “Have you always been chubby?” or “Why are you missing your arm?”
There is zero malicious intent. He’s just curious, and he files away every answer. We have tried to curtail it, mostly because we worry about Charley asking the wrong person the wrong question. But autistic kids aren’t always open to modification. They are firm in their beliefs.
Charley loves a hot tub more than anything. There’s something about the bubbles. So one weekend when he was 10 or 11, we went to a hotel in Kingston that has a waterslide and a hot tub. It was winter and quiet and we retreated to the hot tub for a snuggle. Perfection.
Read 14 tweets
Chris Jones Profile picture
20 Nov 20
So one time, GOLF magazine asked me to play a round with Arturo Gatti and Micky Ward and write about it. If you don’t know those names, they were two tough-as-nails boxers who fought three hellacious fights against each other and somehow became golf buddies.
The night before, we all went out for dinner at an Italian restaurant. Arturo and Micky spent the meal laughing about the permanent damage they’d done to each other. Arturo started, lifting up his shirt to show off a lump in his midsection that Micky had somehow made in him.
Micky—he was played by Mark Wahlberg in The Fighter and has a terrific Boston accent—went next, talking about how Arturo had basically knocked his eye out and he couldn’t see anymore. Their friendship had literally started in the hospital. I was like, these two guys are insane.
Read 15 tweets

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