OUR WORLD:
I didn’t drink yesterday! I’m planning to not drink today too!!! (Planning is an interesting word, Jimmy). Sobriety is one slippery serpent around summer holidays (and stressful workweeks, and Fridays, and Saturdays, and winter holidays, and football Sundays, and…people I work with/for may be reading this so GIVE IT A REST, PAL!) but that mutant Wednesday holiday was a real jolt to my drinking equilibrium. Is anyone REALLY mad if we just start celebrating Independence Day on the first Friday in July? Lets give everyone a 3 day weekend and cool it with the midweek hangover. Am I the only one who felt like last Wednesday was a test? Paranoid-Jimmy sensed judgmental bitches out in FORCE on Thursday, taking stock of everyone wearing sunglasses and eating McDonald’s out of paper bags in their cars while parked outside suburban dialysis centers (you just got too specific there, Jimmy. They know it’s you now). I could almost hear these people saying “I guess SOMEBODY couldn’t control themselves on a midweek holiday. REVOKE HIS ADULTHOOD CARD!” Before I go off into a real tangent, I would like to propose that all McDonald’s drive-thru attendants begin each order by telling the person in the car that “everything is going to be okay. Now, what can I get you?” The amount of anxiety those simple words would help ease in the world could lead to the end of anti-depressants ALL TOGETHER. Exaggeration? Well duh, but how many people going through the McDonald’s drive thru are really just searching for someone to tell them that “everything is going to be okay”? My educated guess would be 100%.
Now, to the issue at hand. Over the past week-ish, through observing and participating in some alcohol-fueled escapades, I’ve begun assembling a list of mistakes that all of us drinking folk make time after time after time. We’ll tell ourselves that we’re going to make sure we do this or make sure we don’t do that, and then we have beers and shots and FUN and start thinking “EVERYONE LOVES EVERYTHING I DO!” They don’t. My initial goal of this piece was to help us to learn and better ourselves, but I’m no fool. For the vast majority of us, this may simply be a therapeutic exercise in communal immaturity. Here are the drunk-person mistakes that all us drinkers make and will continue to make because drinking impairs our decision-making abilities. Or, as I like to call it, the first edition of the “Oh, I’m not the only who gets drunk and”-list of missteps.
Makes extravagant plans with friends about “finally putting a group trip together!” only to never talk about that trip until the next time you’re all very drunk.
I’ve agreed no less than 28 times to start planning a group trip to Michigan or Wisconsin or some other moderately priced, drive-able location while out drinking with friends. It always happens when someone in the group just got back from a trip. They have a tan and are happier/less stressed than normal because they just returned from “a relaxing few days.” Everyone around them is jealous and saying things like “but I wanna!” to their significant others. Natural progression includes the person who just returned from vacay proposing that the whole group goes to where they just were. “Yay!” is usually what I think and ALWAYS what the VP actually says out loud. Aside from the two friends at the bar thinking they’re taking “secret” shots even though everyone can see them, everyone agrees that this trip is something that MUST happen.
This is when trouble begins to arise. Who is going to take the lead on planning this? NOBODY in the entire universe wants that responsibility. Hey Friendo, when you’re done with work and walking your dog and paying your bills and cooking your dinner and doing your laundry and parking on the street in the city and going to the gym and apologizing to your wife for losing the iPhone charger, would you mind corralling a group of functioning alcoholics to all agree on which weekend they should all spend more than really want to, to go to some place in Wisconsin they haven’t been since they were children? TYSM!!!
So what ends up happening is…uh….nothing. And most of the time, honestly, I’m relieved. I have heard of people going on their phones while IN the bar and making reservations THAT NIGHT. While I applaud the immediate follow-through, I’ve gotta admit that if I were part of that group I would IMMEDIATELY start thinking of potential excuses to drop a week before the actual trip. Yes, friend trips are fun, but agreeing to spend a bunch of money while you’re already drunk and already spending a bunch of money at the bar? Folks, that right there is the origin story of most panic attacks for 30 year olds (surprised you didn’t know that. Also, if you’re over 30, like me, referring to yourself as a “30 year old” is a nice cheat-code to feel younger.)
Orders shots for all the people you’re with and immediately regrets having to pay $48 for 6 Fireball shots and a sure-fire hangover.
I love thinking about how shots must’ve been invented. You know some drunk guy named Terry was out one night thinking “I love drinking beer, but I want to get drunk faster. Liquor? Yeah, but I hate the taste. What if…someone could like shoot something into my mouth REAL quick to get me drunk and I could go back to drinking beer? SHOTS!” Once Terry’s friend, Lorenzo, heard of this idea he joined in the fray and asked the bartender to just add a bunch of sugar to his “shot” to also help mask the taste. Said bartender then, one late night, tired of feeling like candy dealer, put on a bowtie, grew a mustache and invented simple syrup. “It’s actually not sugar, it’s a cocktail ingredient known as simple syrup,” said the first ever douchey Mixologist. Boom, I just gave you the evolution of alcohol. (I have done no research into that, but I don’t want to know if it’s wrong. I don’t care what anyone says. No chance someone other than a dude named Terry invented shots. NOW GET BACK TO THE FUCKING POINT, JIMMY!)
The point is that now, age thirty tuoeiwe, shots are but an illicit daydream while out at the bar with friends. No one is really going to ask the crew if they WANT shots because nobody wants to be met with the “you have a problem, don’t you?”-looks. The way around this, however, is to just show up to the table with a tray of shots. It’s a risky move because the majority of the table is going to be pseudo-pissed at you, but that’ll fade. The people that are excited, though, will think of you as their Dark Knight of fireball for allowing them to use the “it would be rude NOT to take this”-excuse. In the words of Chief Gordon, the Dark Knight of Fireball endures the ridicule “Because he can take it, because he’s not a hero. He’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector, a Dark Knight.”
Are you, like me, one of these Dark Knights of Fireball? Let’s talk. Like me, I bet you told yourself before going out “no shots tonight.” I bet once you got to the bar and had a few POPS you started laughing and having an absolute ball. You’re doing some dance moves by yourself to the faint Top 40 songs playing on the speakers (excuse me DJ, can you please play some Steve Winwood? Yeah, I’ll settle for Katy Perry.) Next thing you know, you’re in the bathroom thinking to yourself “I’ve got my lady here, my friends here and just pulled off a killer flossing routine in the middle of the bar, how could this night get better?!?!” That’s when you slowly look up from washing your hands and catch yourself in the mirror…”Shots.” It’s exciting in the same way that the idea of smoking a cigarette is. (Look cool and get a little extra buzz in the process!)
You’re in full-on “ignoring consequences”-mode until directly after you put down the empty shot glass. Fireball isn’t cheap, but you can’t close out your tab right this second because…uh…I STILL WANNA HAVE FUN! So now you’re panicking as you run through all the times you bought fireball shots in the past trying to figure out how much it’s going to cost. The “oh no”-face begins to take hold of you, but you have to play it off when your wife asks if everything is okay because NOBODY likes the “can we split that tray of shots?”-guy. (Honestly, I’ve never seen one of the Dark Knights of Fireball ask to split the cost afterwards, but I’m POSITIVE they all think about asking.) So you’re now stuck in the bar trying to do math (legally impossible after beer #7) while pretending that you’re still having a good time. On top of that, you broke your “no shots” rule and you’re thinking about it now because panic spares no potential suitor. When it begins, the panic zombie-goblins come back to life and begin feeding on any potential fear-inducing topic. 2 hours later, when you finally do close out your tab and sign your check, you nearly hyperventilate while thinking about your bank account, tomorrow’s hangover, and how your pants are going to feel after you DEMOLISH late-night pizza. Everything is, most certainly, not okay.
Thinks that no matter where you are, walking home is a good idea.
I don’t care if I’m at a bar in the middle of the goddamn ocean, the second close out my tab I’m thinking “walkin’ time!” There are so many reasons for this, but the top one has to be that walking home allows for the possibility of stopping at a late-night eatery for some delicious delicious treats. (I’ve gotta do a list of “Best Late Night Eats” at some point.) Asking an Uber to go through a drive-thru includes feeling ashamed for involving a stranger in your excess (this is our little secret!) AND ALSO risks the driver messing up your order when he asks what he should say into the drive-thru speaker. If you’re walking, you get to play the “well, I mean, McDonald’s is right there” game of chicken with your spouse. Saying ‘no’ to McDonald’s after midnight is the type of self-control that is written about in books that smarter people than me read. Whenever I’m late-night walking with The VP and toss out the “McDonald’s?” she shrugs in an effort to mask how OVERWHELMINGLY EXCITED she is that I was the one to suggest it. (The Dark Knight strikes again).
Unfortunately, when you live in a city like Chicago, with tons of stories about drunk idiots (me? are you talking about me?) getting mugged, walking home is NOT. SAFE. When I’m going out without The VP, she actually makes me promise her that I won’t walk home. Little does The VP of Ops know that my toes are crossed when I make this promise and YOU CAN’T GET MAD ABOUT CROSSIES!!! YOU CAN’T! If I simply plan to speed-walk home while zig-zagging down the sidewalk, “tough to hit a moving target”-style, I should be fine (I’m legit V nervous that I just jinxed myself.) When I’m descending into panic-mode following my OUTRAGEOUS bar spend, skipping the $13 Uber ride is going to make me feel just a little bit better. And at that point of the night, every little bit counts!
Finally, I don’t care what kind of shape you’re in, everyone loves breaking into the “I just want to be home right this second”-drunksprint and we’re ALL convinced that our drunksprint is faster than any car ever put on this earth. The next “Fast & The Furious” movie should really be about dueling drunksprinters.
MY WORLD:
I’ve taken the last week off from working out because during my last run I felt some crazy pulling on my hamstrings. I told myself that I needed the rest, which I probably did, but I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t A BILLION PERCENT THRILLED to have a legitimate excuse to not go to the gym for a little while. The downside of this MANDATORY vacation, however, is the guilt associated following every meal. Some of the things I’ve considered to combat this fat-guilt I’ve been experiencing, include:
-Shaving my beard: Shaving makes your face look thinner. I’ve had a “beard” (stop laughing Dad!) for a few months now, so if I shaved it, I think people would be like “whoa, have you been losing weight?” Tricked ya!
-Cutting my hair: I need a haircut and have been wearing a hat for about 5 weeks straight now to hide this fact. Along the same lines as the beard thing, if I get a haircut, it could distract people from my widening torso. If I got a SUPER new haircut, like a buzz or one of those cool hipster/hitler-youth haircuts, people would def not notice that I’m wearing my “the diet is not going well”-jeans.
-Embracing being bigger: I just don’t think I’m tall enough to pull off “big guy”. It stinks because I feel like there are taller guys who are overweight, but they wear it well so they can just be “the big guy.” I wanna be “the big guy”! When I gain weight, I’m stocky and NOBODY wants to be “the stocky guy”. Is there any other way I can embrace the inevitability of getting bigger? I’m open to suggestions here.
LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:
My Dad sent me the link to this song last week. I remember when I told people that I hated country music. I do not feel that way anymore. This song is fabulous.
LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:
When you bring your car in for an inspection and the body shop guy comes into the waiting room because he “needs to talk to you about something.” GREAT!
JIMMY GAMBLES:
Been really up and down lately. Hit big on some World Cup bets last week but also learned the hard lesson that betting the moneyline in soccer means your team has to win by the end of regulation. I realized this while celebrating my Croatia “win” and assuring my gambling partners that Bovada must be malfunctioning because it hadn’t paid us out yet. After about 19 page refreshes, The VP googled “soccer gambling” for me and broke my heart while reading the moneyline regulation rules. If I would’ve known gambling involved reading and learning, I never would’ve gotten into it. Today I’ve got Belgium because I bet on them before the tournament started and don’t want to start rooting against them now even though I’m TERRIFIED of that fast French dude MBappe.
(Current balance at $31.87)
K bye.
Jimmy's Chair 