MY WORLD:
I used to think that people who walked aggressive dogs had to be assholes themselves. The dog wouldn’t be like that if their owner wasn’t like that. Of course, that was until I adopted (oh you forgot I ADOPTED my dog? Well…don’t) an aggressive dog, Belle, and totally disproved that theory. I am SO not an asshole. How can I prove this to you? 1) I welled up during the last episode of Bravo’s “Summer House” when Carl hugged his crying mom (“welled up” = crying in guy terms but it’s not blubbering, it’s like cool sensitive guy feelings that don’t get out of hand). 2) I called my Grandpa last week just to “say hey” (and avoid the sure-to-come guilt trip from my Dad for not calling him, but that’s neither here nor there). 3) I hate clubs. BOOM. Not an asshole. Welcome to FactsOnlyVille, USA.
Now that we have established that I’m not an asshole, my dog, Belle, most certainly is. We adopted her when she was about 1.5 years old (I bought her to get back on the VP of Ops’ good side after momentarily forgetting her bday…story for another time…) We adopted her from a family in Southern Indiana who seemed normal because…they had a kid and told us they were normal. We should’ve known better. The VP of Ops and I met “The Normals” at a park in Southern Indiana and were met with a growling, ferocious beast ready to prove that she was the top of the food chain. We could only approach Belle 6 inches at a time while the owners unsuccessfully tried to calm her psycho, growling-ass down. Hindsight is 20/20, but this may have been a hint…
Belle is a total mush with the VP of Ops and I. Check out this melt-in-your-chair pic of our PRETTY GURRRRRRR
However, strangers may as well be Al-Qaeda according to her actions. Every morning before I take her out, I need to open my door (3rd floor walk-up chosen for the sake of my quads) to make sure that no other people or doggos are in the hallways…or about to enter the hallways. Seriously, if I hear someone rattling with their door lock, Belle is holding her morning tee tee poo poo (term courtesy of the VP of Operations).
Once we slink out of our building like the natural-born assassins we are, it’s a full-on cardio sesh for my eyeballs: darting to and fro attempting to avoid enemy combatants (enemy combatants = squirrels, doggos, any person, light twigs blowing down the sidewalk in the wind…) Coast is clear? It’s walkin’ time. Finding empty blocks in Chicago is dicey, however, and we are almost ALWAYS faced with some BozoTheClown trying to walk on the same side of the street as us. FUCK.
My fighter jet pilot-like eyesight will normally catch this BTC in time to cross the street, however, there are times when I convince myself that Belle has matured and now is the time to show off said maturity. A little self talk along the lines of “please God be nice,” and we’re off to HOPEFULLY walk past another human being without incident.
Normally, she’ll pull slightly on her leash, attached to the scary looking metal-teeth collar (psycho dogs wear psychokiller collars). As we approach this BozoTheClown, I’ll try to cut into Belle’s narrowing lens with a succession of quick “Hey Belle’s” or “Belle look’s”. Unfortunately, these enticing requests rarely interrupt her laser-like focus on the approaching BTC. The closer we get, the more I feel her body tensing, breathing slow, ears pin, and weight shift to her hind legs…lunge in 5, 4, 3, 2…I’ll extend my arms to wrap around her…and this fuggin’ BTC says “Hi Doggy”. THE NERVE!
Belle will lunge, I’ll grab her so she doesn’t make contact, but BTC normally cowers like the little bitch that he is (it’s easier to criticize bystanders than my dog, so get off my case). I’ll toss out an apology of sorts. “Sorry, she’s such a scaredy cat!” But, it’s too late. Damage is done. Belle has not matured and BTC probably can’t wait to tell his Uber driver what a bad dog owner I am. Hopefully, the Uber driver notices BTC’s unwelcoming aura and makes a mental note that dog’s only attack dickheads.
Flipped the script on ya’. Let’s call that the Jimmy Fliparooski.
OUR WORLD:
The Oscars are this Sunday. Let’s have a quick chat about some of the movies before I make my predictions in Friday’s blog (tease alert).
Get Out: I rented this a couple months back and watched it at home because it felt like entire friggin universe couldn’t stop talking about how groundbreaking it was. I resisted until then because I don’t like scary movies (have never understood enjoying the feelings of fear and dread…seriously, if you like scary movies, why not just make a doctor’s appointment every week so you get to hang out in the waiting room? Same feeling, right?) ANYWAY. Get ready for an unpopular opinion…this movie is supremely overrated. Sure, I laughed, but never that hard. Sure, I rooted for the good guy to escape, but never that hard. Sure, I was nervous that the bad guys were up to no good, but never that nervous. It was a movie full of me pursing my lips, nodding and going “hmm”. Like, “that was pretty good.” Confusing “pretty good” with “groundbreaking” happens when a movie no one was expecting anything from, has some decent moments. This happened with “Mad Max”, “Birdman”, and “Gravity” too. YEAH I SAID IT! Those movies, just like “Get Out”, were fine…that were turned into “groundbreaking” only in hindsight when the try-hards studied the scripts after seeing the movie and uncovered all of the hidden meanings that the unsophisticated rubes missed upon initial viewing. Guess what? If you don’t know a movie is GREAT while watching it, it’s not great. FINAL GRADE: SURE, BUT…
3 Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri: Yep! Not only the best movie of the past year, but it’s the best movie I’ve seen in the past FEW years. People’s reactions to 3 Billboards has been the opposite of Get Out: love it in the theater, then can’t wait to pick it apart a week later after they see a critic who wears cool glasses talk about how pedantic it really was (don’t know what “pedantic” means and will not look it up. It is a word that thin-mustachioed people I don’t like in my imagination use.) Here’s the thing with 3 Billboards; my mouth opened at least once every 7 minutes in this movie. “Wha?!?!” Movies are meant to consistently surprise you and I cannot tell you how hard that is to do when people have begun to catch on to movies’ rhythms’. This is why M. Night Shamalammadingdong hasn’t been the same since the “I See Dead People” movie. We caught on. Aside from acting performances that shook audiences much the way my portrayal of “Follower Rat #6” did in my elementary school’s rendering of “The Pied Piper”, 3 Billboards induced at least eight “Did you see that?!” moments between the VP of Ops and I. When you’re in front of a 90 foot screen and you turn to the person next to you to, sincerely, ask if they “saw that?” you know you’re watching something special. FINAL GRADE: YUH-HUH!
LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:
LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:
BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT PROBABLY WON’T WIN:
Last night was an absolute bloodbath. Not only did I bet on Oklahoma, but my gambling crew and I decided we should pair that bet with the Bulls (+11) in Charlotte and enter the parlay zone. Bulls lost by 15. Oklahoma lost by a trillion. I then panicked and put the rest of my account, roughly $30 on the late NBA game: Denver (-6) over LAC. Clippers stormed back from 19 down to win by 2. Fun news to wake up to.
Thankfully, Bovada is a charitable organization and gave me $13.49 in bonus funds. Full transparency, I am waiting for one of my gambling partners to make the next pick (my picks need to be quarantined).
HOWEVER, if I were to go rogue tonight…DADDY LIKES ‘DEM CELTICS (-7.5) OVER CHARLOTTE.
(My account currently at $13.49)
K bye.
Jimmy's Chair 