Sports Documentaries & Strolls Down Memory Lane

MY/OUR WORLD COMBO:

Let me get my sea legs back before you start judging me again. Admittedly, I’m very out of writing-shape…

Is becoming obsessed with watching documentaries a natural part of aging? Are cool 17 year-old dudes who just got home from lifting in their friends’ garage, DURING A FREAKING PANDEMIC, asking their Mom’s to remember to DVR the Lance Armstrong documentary? (Yes, there are a group of dudes who lift in a garage down my block and…would I be forever honored if they invited me one time? Sure. Is that so wrong? IS LIFTING WEIGHTS WITH SOME COOL GUYS SO WRONG?!?!)

Somewhere around the debut of “30 for 30”, or getting married, or realizing that saying I watched a documentary was as close as I could get to saying I read a book, I decided that documentaries were worth more than the average flick. Maybe there just aren’t a ton of television shows you can watch and then brag about what you “learned” afterward. “Last night’s Vanderpump Rules really taught me that doing cocaine in your late 30s just makes a person look like a sweaty lunatic.”

Or maybe, the more likely reasoning behind our new documentary obsession, is that it’s fun to relive the parts of your life that were happening parallel to some memorable national or local storyline. (Is he done with this pseudo-philosophical rant, yet? I know it’s been a while since he last wrote, but Jesus Christ GET TO THE FUCKING POINT!) For those like me, constantly looking for a documentary to watch, I’ve got some quick takes on ones I’ve seen recently. However, because I’m one spicy baby, I’m going to give you an insight into the parts of my life I got to relive while watching said documentary. Hopefully, this will give you a better appreciation for what The VP of Ops has to deal with. (What if this makes me really jealous of The VP of Ops, though? Like, should I tell her how lucky she is to live with such a cerebral individual who pulls off the jeans and sandals look better than a 90s GAP model?!?!)

THE LAST DANCE: DA MICHAEL JORDAN DOC

We all agree that we don’t need fancy names for documentaries, right? Like, everyone just calls it “The _________ doc” no matter what the title is, right? When you were talking to your friends about “The Last Dance”, there’s no way you weren’t just calling it “The Jordan doc” or “The Bulls doc”. Great. Just had to establish that.

Every once in a while, a movie or show or documentary comes along where you are POSITIVE it’s going to be great. (Nacho Libre!) The first few that come to my mind are: “The Dark Knight”, “The Departed”, and “Old School”. Once you see the trailer, it’s a LOCK that, that movie is going to be awesome and you’ve already gotten defensive just thinking about anyone who would disagree with you.

That was The Jordan Doc. Going into it, I was salivating at the thought of The VP saying ANYTHING the least bit critical of this doc. There could’ve been an episode entitled “The One Where Michael Jordan Talks About How Much He Hates Women From Mississippi” and I would’ve shot The VP my patented “Don’t Say Anything Negative About Michael Jordan”-glare.

Fortunately, there was not an episode centered around Michael Jordan hating where my wife is from. (Phew!) Instead, there was the Michael Jordan version of everything that happened during the most engaging run the NBA has ever seen. Spare me the takes about what Jordan embellished or, fuck even lied about, because who cares? We all know what happened. What we didn’t know was how Jordan’s mind worked while it all happened. An insight into the mind of the most charismatic athlete of our generation? Yeah, I guess that sounds FUCKING INCREDIBLE.

And it was. How do you become the best basketball player of all-time? When I was a kid, I’d watch Jordan in a game, and then go out into the driveway and shoot, and run towards the hoop like I had a shot in hell of dunking, and then go back inside and tell my parents that what I really needed was his newest pair of shoes if I wanted to play like Mike. If only I had been able to watch this when I was a kid, I would’ve known that all I had to do was to manipulate any situation into a deeply personal challenge that was worth DYING FOR to overcome. (Like that time The VP told you that chicken you grilled was “good” but you knew the way she said “good” meant it wasn’t that good? And then you used that slight to motivate you to open up a Michelin-starred restaurant that you called “Still Think It’s Just “Good” Chicken NOW?!?!?!”)

MEMORY LANE STROLL DURING THIS DOC:

The most exciting time in my life was when Jordan began practicing with the Bulls again after his first retirement. He hadn’t decided to come back yet, but there were news reports everyday about how his car was parked in the Bulls parking lot, and how he was practicing with the team.

I remember I’d run upstairs so I could watch the local news talk about this possible Jordan return on my shitty antenna TV. When the TV would get fuzzy, I’d gently adjust the rabbit ears while saying prayers to God that sounded something like, “Dear God, please let me see Alison Rosati throw it to the Channel 5 field reporter standing in front of the Bulls practice facility!” Every 5PM local news felt like a potential Christmas morning where the best present EVER was possibly under the tree.

Finally, that present came in the form of a fax that said “I’m back.” Even now, the thought of those words makes me want to wake up jump on my bed and wake up my smelly wife while yelling “He’s back!!!!”

LANCE: DA LANCE ARMSTRONG DOC

This followed up the Jordan doc in ESPN’s “Is This a 30 for 30?” doc-series, and I went in ready to dunk on anyone who wasn’t a Lance fan going into it. Pre-conceived notions are the best! (Try singing Aerosmith’s “Sweet Emotion” but substitute “Preeeeeee-conceived notions” because that’s just what I did and I want you to UNDERSTAND MY LIFE!) A guy raised hundreds of millions of dollars for cancer research and inspired generations of people with the scariest disease you can get, but we have to hate him because he lied about taking drugs in a sport where…everyone lied about taking drugs? What was I missing? (Nothing. You never miss anything, Jimmy. You’re so smart and aware.)

And then…this thing happened where I watched the documentary and started having these “Uh oh”-thoughts. Like, when his first coach was talking about how much of a dick Lance was. Or, when he left his first wife pretty soon after they had their first kid. Or, when multiple teammates of his talked about how they were never given a chance to compete because everything was about supporting Lance. Or, when his former team trainer talked about how Lance tried to ruin her life for telling a story about how she saw him use ‘roids… And “Uh oh, Lance is kind of a dick.”

Thankfully, I watched this alone, so I didn’t have to defend my Preeeeee-conceiveeeeeed notions. If, like me, you think that overcoming cancer, raising HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS of dollars in cancer research (HUNDREDS!), and inspiring countless people who are fighting CANCER(!), gives you a free pass to act however you want in all other areas of your life, this doc puts that to the test! I still think that the good heavily outweighs the bad with Mr. BikeMan, but get ready to cringe a few times and look over your shoulder scared someone is going to ask, “you still think that guy is a good guy?”

MEMORY LANE STROLL DURING THIS DOC:

Who didn’t have a Livestrong bracelet? I remember the Livestrong bracelet led to a SERIES of unfortunate jewelry choices on my part. I felt so cool and good about the yellow band, that I thought, “what’s better than one rubber band?” So I started wearing like 5…on each wrist…Then, THAT snowballed when I saw the lead singer of Coldplay wearing like 200 thin bands around his wrists. (No Jimmy…don’t say that you…) So I bought the exact bands Chris Martin was wearing and wore like 100 little bands around my wrists for a while! Like, more than a month!

Here’s a piece of advice that I wish ANYONE IN MY LIFE had given me when I was going through the “wear as much shit around your wrists”-phase of my life: Just because one of the biggest rockstars in the world looks cool in something, doesn’t mean YOU will cool in that same thing. Especially when you’re a waiter who hasn’t had a girlfriend in over 4 years.

YIIIIIIIIKES!

LONG GONE SUMMER: DA MARK MCGWIRE AND SAMMY SOSA DOC

I’m not going to lie to you because that’s the thing you write before you say something that’s somewhat revealing and/or surprising: I watched like 7 minutes of this doc. (Honey? Today’s Jimmyschair has a review about a documentary he hasn’t even really watched. Make sure you don’t miss it!) Unlike the Jordan doc, Da Sosa Doc had the feel of a surefire terrible movie from the start. Like, you saw the trailer and thought you were in because that was a fun baseball summer, but then you woke up sweaty later that night and yelled, “I BET THEY’RE NOT EVEN GOING TO TALK ABOUT STEROIDS THAT MUCH!!!”

And from everything that I heard, they didn’t, and it sucked, and I’m happy I didn’t try to convince The VP that it would actually be good. (What’s worse than standing up for a movie that your spouse doesn’t want to watch, only to have it be horrible?) In case you haven’t heard similar things, now is when I suggest you listen to me and SKIP THIS DOC!

MEMORY LANE STROLL DURING THIS DOC:

The only Cubs game my Mom brought me to where it was just her and I, was during this home run derby summer. She brought me to the game where Sosa hit his 60^th homer (I think? Don’t google it and point out that he hit his 60^th on the road or something…JUST GO WITH THIS) If it wasn’t his 60^th, it was somewhere around there because Wrigley went absolutely BONKERS when he hit it. One of those few times I remember being at Wrigley and having a great time BEFORE booze was involved in these trips.

After watching an entire Cubs game in Wrigley SOBER (should a documentary be made about me?) my Mom and I got onto the train home and ended up sitting across from my little brother’s Godfather, Kevin. What I didn’t know at the time is that Kevin was enjoying this game in the A.B. column and Kevin was BLITZED OUT OF HIS MIND on this train. I remember wondering why his face and eyes were so red and why he couldn’t really talk. My Mom covered it up pretty well because I didn’t think about him being hammered until recently, when I realized that almost everyone over the age of 19 leaves Wrigley not being able to walk or talk.

And now that a lot of my friends have kids, and I still don’t, I’m thinking that I may be on the Kevin path…Where my friends’ wife is going to have to lie to her kids about why Uncle Jimmy couldn’t talk that one time they saw him on the train. Please, just tell your kids “he’s had a hard life. Give him a break.”

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you cook chicken breast and it actually doesn’t taste like the most bland bullshit ever. We used some Trader Joe’s rub on chicken breasts last night because I’ve gotten PUDGY and I didn’t hate them! But, you know what I do hate?

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

That thing that I just wrote about the chicken breasts. Jesus Christ was that boring and lame AND I HAVE NO PERSONALITY ANYMORE NOW THAT I LIVE IN THE SUBURBS. I LIVE A LIFE OF BLAH!!!!!!

HERE’S A SONG I LIKE:

Jimmy Butler is Giving Jimmy’s a Bad Name and I Won’t Stand For It (10/11/18)

SPORTS WORLD:

*NEW SECION ALERT?!?! Sometimes I feel very passionate about sports and I want to go off on rants, but I haven’t here much because I don’t want to ostracize readers who don’t like sports. But…sometimes, like today, I have to do it. I promise, even if you don’t love sports, I’m going to do my best to make it relatable and still enjoyable. We’ll see how that goes…

Imagine walking into work today and seeing a co-worker, lets call him Hector, who had been bitching non-stop about his salary for the last 4 months. He would always start his bitch-a-thons with “I’m not going to make a big deal about this, but…” and then he would proceed to make a big deal out of every little action that management did or did not take. “You see the way our Bubba Bossman just BCC’d me on that e-mail, but then says nothing to me? Yeah, he needs me, but doesn’t want to admit it,” is a thing Hector says a lot. You hear these ramblings and pretend to seem interested while praying that a time machine is invented so you can go back to when you made your college choice without realizing you were signing up for a lifetime of student loan debt and, in turn, forcing yourself to work a job less inspiring than that horribly bruised banana that you’ve just been too lazy or depressed to throw out for the last 8 days. Will this soul-crushing student loan debt help you wrestle the “Most Depressed Family Member”-title away from your cousin Alex whose parents divorce sent him into a deep depression even though he was 38 when it happened? You hope not, but if so, at least you get to root for that school’s football team! IT’S NOT THAT BAD, ALEX, YOUR PARENTS ARE HAPPIER NOW!

So Hector comes in today and begins railing against you, the rest of the office and, without fear of repercussions, against the higher-ups. He’s firing off e-mails with panache; hitting the button on his mouse hard with his fist and yelling “SENT ANOTHER ONE!” after each reply. “How many have you sent Jimmy?” he asks loud enough for Bubba Bossman to hear, but you’re still working through why Hector needs a fucking mouse when he uses a laptop…

“Uh, I don’t know, probably like-”

“You don’t know is fuckin’ right! YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT! YOU DON’T DO SHIT!” Hector snarls at your lackadaisical response to a question that’s not even that relevant because it’s not like you’re judged on how many e-mails you send, but whatever. Hector is on fire and arguing with him would take the kind of effort reserved for a job you don’t kinda’ hate. So you let him continue, and he does. Stalking around the office like he built it; calling out Sara Ann for scrolling through Facebook “I didn’t know we were being paid by how many statuses we ‘liked’ Sara Ann! You see this Bubba? You see me pull shit like this?”; ripping Larry’s leftover salmon out of his hand before he’s able to put it in the microwave, “Reheating fish, Larry? EVERY GODDAMN DAY?” as he whips the tupperware container into the fat stomach of Phil, the guy in the office who people like but have no idea what he does and it just seems like he walks around to chat with everyone.

Is everything Hector is doing completely unwarranted? Probably not, but he’s acting like such a cock you’ve got to be thinking “dude, just let me get through my day so I can get back to numbing my endless waterfall of personal dissatisfaction with alcohol, television and my dog who doesn’t get to play outside enough because I can only afford a 1-bedroom apartment in a neighborhood without a dog park.”

Do you know Jimmy Butler? Well now you do. Jimmy Butler was Hector yesterday in Timberwolves practice. The look-at-me try-hard at work; the co-worker who loves to sigh at their desk and mutter, just loud enough for people to hear, “god, I’m so busy.” It’s insecure and obnoxious and, we get it, you’re letting people know that you do your job. The difference, though, between Jimmy Butler and YOUR insecure co-worker, is that Jimmy Butler is currently on a contract set to pay him over $18.4 million dollars this year. But he’s not happy because he claims that his co-workers don’t try as hard as he does and his bosses, after offering him a 4 year, $110 million dollar contract over the summer, haven’t made him feel important enough. Don’t believe me? Here’s what Butler actually said to a reporter following his Hector-like outburst at practice yesterday: “It’s kinda like, I don’t know – a slap in the face? I don’t know how to put it but it made me think like maybe I’m not that important to your organization.” HE ACTUALLY SAID THAT IN FRONT OF A CAMERA THAT WAS RECORDING TO BE PLAYED ON A SHOW WATCHED BY MILLIONS OF PEOPLE.

Now I’m sure that some of his teammates, like some of your co-workers, don’t try as hard as they can all the time. I’m sure there are days when Karl Anthony-Towns shows up late and hungover and rolls his eyes whenever Coach Thibs tells him to “PICK UP THE PACE!” Fine. But if your idea of leading, as it is Jimmy Butler’s, is to embarrass you in front of said-boss while also putting on a “look how hard I try!”-show, welcome to the world of the delusional because you aren’t leading as much as you are making everyone around you hate your fucking guts. (In other news, I really have to go poop right now and have been waiting for The VP to leave for work to do so and her Uber keeps canceling and I’M ABOUT TO LOSE IT!)

A while back, it became easy to poke holes and make fun of fan arguments that began with “when you make that much money…” And maybe that’s because those arguments were coming out of mouths stuffed full of half-eaten bratwurst spewing their thick Chicago accent and scrambled thought progression onto sports radio airwaves. But, if we’re being totally honest, wouldn’t you react to your co-worker the same way? Wouldn’t you want to tell Hector to go fuck right off if you were the one he was calling out or you were the boss who had just offered him a hefty raise within a brand-new 4 year contract? And isn’t it very very understandable that these “go fuck right off”-emotions are amplified by the fact that the person acting like this will make more money this year than your entire 23andMe roster will ever make in all of their lifetimes combined? Jimmy Butler is very good at basketball, but he’s very bad at making fans want to root for him. And if Jimmy wants to really examine his whole fall-back of an excuse-mantra of “this is about business,” you know what he would find? He would find that an organization trying to attract new fans by signing HIM would be making a BAD business decision. To hell with Jimmy Butler, he can fuck right off.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I saw my favorite band Death Cab for Cutie over the weekend and they were amazing and I can’t wait to write about it. Here’s a live version of my favorite song off their new album? I may have posted this before but I don’t care.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

It’s pretty cold outside today. It’s cold enough to make you remember that winter is around the corner and that means: snow, and slush, and salt stains on your wood floor that you may not be able to ever get out and then you’re gonna have to pay some sort of penalty when your lease is up and FUCK!!!! WINTER IS COMING!!!

JIMMY GAMBLES:

For me, I’ve lost a lot of money recently and if you can’t tell from the rest of today’s blog, it has not put me in a good mood.

K bye.

The Current State of (like, some) Television (10-3-18)

OUR WORLD:

When all you do for a couple weeks is go to work, hang at home with a recovering VP (remember El Lumperoni? Yeah, that’s gone now), sleep and eat and okay, there was some other stuff too….(stay focused Jimmy, this is what writing takes!) THE POINT IS WE’VE DONE A LOT OF EATING AND WATCHING TELEVISION LATELY BECAUSE SURGERY IS A PERFECT EXCUSE TO DO JUST THAT AND NOT FEEL TOO GUILTY ABOUT IT! One of the few cool things about helping your wife recover from a surgery is that you kinda’ get to act like you’re recovering too and that means eating whatever you want and not going out and watching as much television as you want WITHOUT GUILT!!! I have descended into full-on “it’s okay if we don’t do that”-mode. So, in an effort to take a break from being completely useless in the name of solidarity (no, my ankle is still not fully whole, but I’m not a look-at-me-guy) I would like to provide some quick reviews for tv shows that you can watch when your mother in law is staying with you as your wife recovers from lumperoni surgery:

“The First” (Netflix)

Hand up, it was going to be nearly impossible for me not to love this show. It’s about space and Sean Penn is the star? Even if it turned out to be a rap-musical with Penn doing an Arnold Schwarzenneger voice, I would probably talk myself into loving it because “Sean Penn takes chances!” Fortunately, SEAN PENN USED HIS NORMAL VOICE AND IT’S NOT A RAP-MUSICAL! (For a second, I thought about just leaving my review for this show at that. Can you even imagine?!?! Aren’t I a GOOF?!?!?!)

This show is about Sean Penn trying to be a part of the first mission to Mars while repairing a fractured relationship with a college-aged daughter who likes doing the scary drugs sometimes. I know what you’re thinking: “Didn’t Sean Penn also play father to a college-aged daughter in ‘Mystic River’?” Uh, you bet your fucking ass he did! CAN YOU SAY WHEELHOUSE?!?! If you weren’t convinced yet that Sean Penn isn’t the best “I love my daughter, but I have personal demons”-actor in the game, this show settles that. Nobody walks the tightrope of love and struggle better than Penn, and that’s on display again in “The First”. Remember the “is that my daughter?!?!” scene in “Mystic River”? There are a couple of those scenes throughout the first season of this show, and they are not overacted, or overdramatic. They give you goosebumps as you shake your head and say “nobody is a better actor than Sean Penn.”

So like, have I driven home the fact that I love Sean Penn enough yet? K, got it. Aside from King Sean, this show is deliberate with it’s storylines and relationships. Nothing feels forced or manipulated or not completely realistic. For a show about going to mars 20ish years in the future, that’s not a minor accomplishment. The technological advances they show in society feel attainable and not silly. There are no flying cars, but there are self-driven cars and…uh…Jimmy likey (dude, 3rd person, really?) This is the kind of show that comes on five years ago and everyone is blown away by how well-done it is. TV is so crowded with fantastic shows now that the top tier don’t get the sort of adulation that they used to. “The First” belongs on that top tier.

Final Jimmyschair Verdict: Watch it and please don’t try to enlighten me about Sean Penn’s potentially sketchy personal life because I don’t care about that.

“The Voice” (NBC)

I used to be very ready to jump to the defense of this show whenever the HATERS would start to get lippy. “But Blake and Adam have real chemistry!” is definitely a sentence I have said in the past. Unfortunately, my muscles are tired from not working them out (isn’t that called atrophy? I SAID THEY’RE TIRED!) so I don’t have it in me to defend this show like I used to. Kelly Clarkson and Jennifer Hudson now sit in between Adam and Blake and everything in this show just feels kinda’ played out and pointless.

Blake and Adam pretend to talk shit to each other, but it’s hard to replicate genuine shit talk when you’re on NBC and can’t say things that real guy friends say to each other, like “oh yeah? How about you go fuck yourself?” I know these dudes have that in them too because Blake drinks a lot and Adam has been on Howard Stern. You know they’re dying to tell each other to “suck on deez nuts,” but they can’t because of the government so instead they gently make fun of their manicured wardrobes. Oh, and that’s another thing, can Adam cool it with the sweatpants? He’s gotta be almost 40 and is still not in a cool enough rock band to wear whatever he wants without consequences. He’s wearing sweatpants and Jordans and I, for one, have had enough.

The real weak spot of the show though is that neither myself or The VP or The VP’s mom or your mom or anyone you know can think of one actual star that this show has produced. Quick, who is the biggest star to ever come from the contestant pool of “The Voice”? That, my friends, is what we in the biz like to call “a problem.” If you connect with a contestant and are rooting for them to become the next Kelly Clarkson, then there are stakes and a real pot of gold at the end of their rainbow. But when you’re rooting for someone to be as famous as that country guy who sang rock songs a few years back and no one has heard from since, it feels less critical. And speaking of Kelly Clarkson, who knew she was unbelievably annoying? She thinks everything she says is hilarious, she gets up and walks around on stage way too much and makes everything about her. Hey Kelly, please stick to singing songs that nobody I know actually likes that much and GET OUT OF MY FACE!

Final Jimmyschair Verdict: Welcome to Skipville, USA. This show has run its course and Adam Levine is beginning to realize it’s happening right before his band becomes the most unpopular pick to ever play the Super Bowl Halftime Show.

“Chopped” (Food Network)

This show is perfect background noise while you scroll Twitter and Instagram and Snapchat and your group chat and GMail and espn.com and WE’RE ALL ADDICTED TO OUR PHONES! Did background noise shows like this exist before we were all more interested in staring at our phones? Or, did they come about because some twisted Hollywood genius was like “maybe we should create shows that are non-offensive and don’t take much attention so people can Instagram-stalk their co-workers overweight aunt with the weird hair.” Chicken or the egg, am I right?

Non-offensive background noise is a new category of television show that I believe is VASTLY under appreciated. Most of the time, when I ask The VP what she wants to watch, I’m hit with a “I don’t care” as she continues to not look at me, transfixed by her phone screen. I’m not throwing shade at that answer, either, because I know I do the same thing sometimes. When either of us are in that mode, we can’t put on a new cool show that takes concentration because we’ll get annoyed that one of us is constantly asking “wait, who’s that guy?” So instead, it’s easier to put on some non-offensive, minimum concentration required type of show that masks our new most glaring addiction. These types of shows are especially valuable when your mother in law is in town and staying at your place. (Real talk, I like when my mother in law stays with us. No snappy zinger coming, I just do like it.)

Oh, so “Chopped”? You know it. The show does what it’s supposed to do. So instead of evaluating specific aspects of a show that you’re watching to avoid needing to monitor specifics, here are some other shows that fall into the “Non-offensive Background Noise” category: All of Food Network, “The Office” reruns, “Parks and Rec” reruns, “Seinfeld” reruns, “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee”, and regular season baseball games.

Final Jimmyschair Verdict: Put this on and get back to what you really want to do–watching videos of kids getting hurt on Instagram. Seriously, check out @kidsgettinghurt on Insta. It’s gold.

MY WORLD:

So I still need to finish my Ireland recaps, but I was starting to get self-conscious that the 7 readers of this blog were like “we get it, you went to Ireland!” Hitting the pause button on those for now. As I alluded to in the above section, the VP had surgery last week to get that lump out of her booby. It went well and our friends are amazing and I want to write about it but my writing muscles, like the rest of my body, are out of shape right now. Gimme a couple of days back in the gym (aka on my dining room table chair sitting and writing) and I’ll turn out a decent “my world”. If this section is reading like an excuse today, that’s because it is. Honestly only here.

LET’S LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The new album from Metric is AMAZING. Here’s a live version of my favorite song off of it…

LET’S HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

That Cubs game last night.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I have been an absolute fiend gambling on everything since I got back from Ireland. I got up over $400, so I pulled $300 out (a check I have yet to receive yet btw but I’m not even worried about it…not even one little bit that I haven’t received a check I asked for 11 days ago now). Feeling especially hot, I bet almost every college football game last weekend and lost every single bet I made. Not kidding. Every single bet. So, I made another deposit for NFL Sunday and, again, lost every single bet I made. Then I made another deposit last night before the Cubs game because the year they won the World Series I bet on them every game so it was really for luck’s sake. And the Cubs lost last night. In short, things have been going less than ideal.

(My account is currently at: $0.00)

K bye.

Movie Trailer Reviews (Pt. 1) and I’m Getting Fat (8/15/18)

OUR WORLD:

Every few months, on a random lazy night, The VP and I will go full-on short-attention span Millennial and choose to watch a bunch of 2 minute movie trailers instead of diving into a new show. (So watching a show has become too hard for you? Says a lot.) For the sake of all of my devoted readers, The VP and I did the thing at the end of each trailer where we look at each other and either raise our eye-brows and purse our lips together, crunch up our nose and furrow our brows, or something in-between. It’s a complicated grading scale, I know, but here’s the breakdown:

GOOD = “Even though we’ll eventually talk ourselves out of it, we should DEFINITELY see that movie when it comes out!”

okay = “It’s going to take someone I trust freaking out about how good this movie is, but I’m not shutting the door.”

BAD = “That movie is going to stink worse than a VP taco fart.”

Before I get into the trailers we watched, I would like to point out that the pictures of me above were taken this morning at roughly 6:45 AM. Why did I use those? Well, you know in the swimsuit issue when they have pictures of “curvier” women to show that there are women of all different shapes and sizes? And then those women are hailed for being brave? Well, I used these pictures to show that there are men out there with bad morning hair and large foreheads that shouldn’t be afraid to SHOW IT OFF! WE’RE JUST AS VALUABLE AS HOT GUYS! If this inspires even just one guy with bad morning hair and a big forehead to head out into public without running a comb through his hair, then I’ve done my job. We can’t all be Johnny Hotbod AND THAT’S OKAY! IT’S NOT OUR FAULT!

ONTO GRADING THE TRAILERS!

“A Star is Born”

Bradley Cooper could not look cooler and is definitely making me think about trying to grow my hair out AGAIN because “maybe this is the time it looks like movie star hair!” I know this is a remake because my dad told me (Dads!) but let’s be real, none of us are going to watch the original because nobody my age cares about Barbara Streisand or Kris Kristofferson. You know who we do care about? Dave Chappelle playing a gravely-voiced wisdom-doling friend to Bradley HotHair. We should all try to find a friend who smokes, wears an old tank and tells us when our “social” drinking has become an issue.

Best line in this trailer is HANDS DOWN when Cooper drops this heater on Lady GaGa as she walks away from him:

Bradley: “Hey”

Lady: “What?” (as she turns around)

Bradley: “I just want to take another look at ya.”

MELT-ALERT! If you’re single, I would HIGHLY suggest using this line on some unsuspecting philly who may have self-esteem issues (I used it on my dog Belle this morning and it didn’t land. She just kept walking…Fuckin’ bitch.)

As far as Lady GaGa goes, here’s the deal: VP loves her and I’m iffy. She does seem like a bit of a try-hard who too easily vacillates between “elegant, sparkly dress singer lady with Tony Bennett” and “dirty shirt, dive bar every-woman”. It usually bugs me, but I’m buying her in this preview. Matta a’ Fack, this feels like PERFECT casting. When she starts singing towards the end of the trailer, The VP started crying and my body was RAVAGED by goosebumps. If you’re not tingling at the 2:06 mark, check yourself into the nearest morgue because you, my friend, are a dead person.

JIMMYSCHAIR FACE REVIEW:

GOOD

“The Old Man & The Gun”

I want to be more excited about this than I am. When we first watched it, I def gave the “gotta see this”-face because I was trying to convince myself. Robert Redford is my Mom’s all-time crush and makes a wrinkly face look cool. He’s also a forever-star and this feels like the last time he’s going to be in a movie that allows him to be the star (felt bad writing that). Then they drop the “it’s a true story” bomb right on our big, dumb heads and we’re thinking “oh triple-fuck-yeah!”

But how interesting can a movie about an old, polite bank robber be? I love bank robbin’ movies as much as any other genre, but the best parts of those movies are the guns, chase scenes, and fiery “we’re going down in a blaze of glory!” speeches that the leader ALWAYS gives to the rest of the crew towards the end. Redford giving soft smiles and cute shoulder shrugs takes away from the “he could die!”-tension. Casey Affleck playing the cop who’s hunting Redford is a solid choice because Casey knocked that role out of the park in “Gone Baby Gone,” but even he seems charmed by Redford’s cute antics. Give me Jon Hamm getting pissed about the “not fuckin’ around crew” in “The Town” ALL DAY over Casey blushing about the note Redford left on a stolen dollar bill for him.

Redford does deliver a patented cool-guy line when he talking to Sissy Spacek about life metaphors, and says: “You know what I do when the door closes? I jump out the window.” Can anyone pull a line like that off in real life? There has to be a documentary somewhere about a real-life bank robber who tries to talk like that, but it just comes off as cringeworthy, right?

Oh, real quick, Tom Waits is in the movie and when I hear his voice all I can think about is how Heath Ledger based his “Joker”-voice off of Tom Waits. Sorry Tom, but you’re the Joker forever now.

JIMMYSCHAIR FACE REVIEW:

okay

“Life Itself”

This movie CAN’T WAIT to make you pretend not to be crying while sitting next to your weeping wife. One hundred percent chance that you’ll look down at your feet at some point in this movie while telling yourself to “fucking get it together, you’re an adult in public.”

First off, is the “Hola”-guy fat Channing Tatum with a mustache? Once that guy hit the screen, all I could think about was “what the hell happened, Channing?” Anyway, I’m torn on this trailer because I think I’m falling madly, deeply in love with Olivia Wilde, but I can’t remember anything she has been in that’s actually good. She’s stunningly gorgeous, and ALWAYS comes off as “down to earth” because she has weird haircuts and wears college-girlfriend clothes, but is she a good actress? If she was, I’d be able to think of ONE role where I thought she was good, right? (Hey Olivia, welcome to Jimmy’s attempt to play hard-to-get. I assure you, however, that he is not hard to get at all.)

Meanwhile, Oscar Isaac has officially wrestled the “that guy who’s in everything I hear is good but don’t see”-trophy from Viggo Mortensen. He’s a good actor because he looks actory and I say “Oh, I like this guy” when I’m around other people, but I’m not positive I’ve actually seen anything he has been in. This casting is feeling like some sort of magic trick. Like, at the end of the trailer, I’m half-expecting David Blaine to just show up dangling a pocket watch in front of me while whispering “you DO want to see this movie.” I do? I DO! Wait…do I?

The voiceover dialogue is heavy handed but well-written. The song playing in the background makes me feel…emotions…and makes me want to…probably wait to watch this on demand. The dead parents joke towards the end is solid, but then immediately feels off-putting when we see beardy Oscar Isaac having a MOMENT with a Starbucks in his hand. This is the movie that your parents see and your Dad stays completely silent while your Mom assures you that it’s “INCREDIBLE!”

JIMMYSCHAIR FACE REVIEW:

okay

MY WORLD:

Should I just get fat? I have a fantastic excuse of my badly sprained ankle to put some weight on AND get sympathy at the same time. In fact, I think if I put weight on it’ll only draw attention to my horrible, horrible, “he’s tougher than me for walking on it”-ankle injury. How would that happen? Thanks for asking; people would see me, immediately think to themselves that “wow, he has let himself go,” only to be smacked right in their dumb, judgmental face with me lifting my right pant leg to reveal A FREAKING ANKLE BRACE! I’d plunge the dagger deeper with a line like, “killing me not being able to workout.” And you better believe the only shirt I’ll be wearing is my 2013 Chicago Marathon shirt that has gotten VERY TIGHT. Get ready to feel bad about your inner thoughts re: my weight.

Real talk, I have felt a little bit bigger since this horrific, horrific injury and I am getting self-conscious about it. You ever put a pair of pants on that feel tighter than they usually do, but then quickly tell yourself “I mean, they did just come out of the dryer”? Because that was me yesterday–blaming the dryer and not the fact that I’ve eaten maybe 37 mini-York peppermint patties over the past…uh…one day. Why was it hard to get to the third notch of the belt? I mean, I probably just tried to fasten the belt lower on my hips than normal. Hips are wider than waist. Obviously. I definitely pulled my pants up a few times yesterday and sucked in to be like “yeah, they’re still loose!” They weren’t loose though, guys. I repeat, not loose.

Shouldn’t my body realize that I’m not able to workout and compensate accordingly? Hey body, I’m not lying on my back while eating an entire bag of Goldfish because my ankle DOESN’T hurt! How ’bout a little help, metabolism? Maybe Mr. Metabolism could pick up some slack one fucking time.

Since Mr. Metabolism and my dumb body are too lazy to help me out and keep my waistline in check, I’m thinking I just lean into this to prove what assholes my body and my metabolism are. “Wait, so they clearly know your injured, and they’re not doing anything to help you out? And yeah, you deserve to eat chip products on your back with an ankle like that!” THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This song came on this morning and I stopped what I was doing to just smile and bop my head around to the beat. Try it.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The street we live on is closed through the weekend for a children’s carnival. Great. I can’t wait to see how calm Belle is about getting walked next to screaming kids who think they’re allowed to pet anything that comes near them. Hey kids, if you like your fingers, I suggest keeping them away from my anxiety-ridden doggo.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I got a “bonus” from Bovada yesterday because THEY LOVE ME! and definitely not because I’ve been losing at an alarming pace and Bovada has nicknamed me “The ATM”. I’m not kidding, I can’t remember the last win I had. I am in full-on, betting only parlays mode because I need a big win to make up for recent losses. This strategy, thus far, has proved fruitless. Its gotten so bad that I have begged for picks from a guy I work while referring to him as “Baseball Guy” because he talks about baseball sometimes. Talk about baseball once in my presence? Guy MUST know how to pick games. I lost the first parlay he gave me.

(Account currently at $11.42)

K bye.

Reality Shows That Should Happen and Are We Going To Move? (7/31/18)

OUR WORLD:

“The Men Tell All” episode of “The Bachelorette” was on last night and, I’ll admit, Jordan was an electric factory. He got me laughing a few times and did make me ask The VP “is he in on the joke?” I kinda’ think that he is, which makes it funnier when he’s bragging about how he owns billboards in everyone’s head and should’ve been wearing a work vest to this episode. Bravo, Jordan, bravo (I’m making that aristocratic face rn while nodding and giving a very pompous round of applause.) But then the episode kept going and going and I remembered that I don’t give a shit about “The Bachelorette” this year. IS BECCA GONNA PICK THE LOW-KEY RACIST OR THAT SMILEY DUDE WHO HAS ZERO PERSONALITY?!?! I hate when my guy friends make fun of all of the shitty reality TV that I like, and I hate even more that I’m now one of those guys with this season of “The Bachelorette”. However, there is a silver lining! With the part of my brain normally devoted to this show now FREE, I have dedicated it to thinking of some reality shows that NEED to happen. Here are the first 3 that I’ve come up with:

“Serving Patricia: The Story of Michael Kelcourse”

I’m officially all caught up on “Southern Charm” and I’d like to thank all my supporters for sticking by me while I caught up. Took a lot of courage on your part to stand by a “reality fan” who had yet to watch the crown jewel of the south. (Are you crying? I am too!!! WE DID IT!!!) I’m sure there will be spin-offs from this show most likely revolving around Shep or Craig or Naomie or the T-Rav rape trial (yikes…) BUT there is only ONE spin-off of “Southern Charm” that is absolutely necessary: the story of Patricia’s old-man butler Michael. I’d like to call it “Serving Patricia: The Story of Michael Kelcourse”. (Wow, creative Jimmy.)

WARNING: this will not be your typical lite Bravo fare. I want this show on AMC or HBO or some other network that specializes in shaky, handheld camera documentary-style reality shows.

I want one cameraman following Michael Kelcourse (the fact that I spent time googling “Patricia Southern Charm Butler” is not something I’ll tell my grandkids about). I want this one cameraman to, essentially, become Michael’s only real friend in the world; allowing him to open up about all the things that Patricia makes him do that we DON’T see on “Southern Charm”. Patricia has “Michael, there is a body in the freezer outside that I’d like you take care of”-written ALL OVER HER. She’s been married like 19 times, you don’t think ONE of those former husbands “disappeared mysteriously”? GET YOUR DUMB HEAD OUT OF YOUR FAT BUTT! MICHAEL KNOWS WHERE THE BODIES ARE!

Maybe one night after returning to his chambers (does he have “chambers”? does he live in a cage in Patricia’s basement?) Michael pours a glass of bourbon for himself and his new best friend Cameraman Jack. About halfway through their first glass, but not yet talking, Michael lets out a deep exhale and brings his fingers to his tear-filled eyes. “I’ve done bad things, Jack. I’ve done bad things.” Jack would lean forward, pour a little more bourbon in Michael’s glass and say “we all have.” Michael would start gently shaking his head, though, and when he lifted it up we’d see his eyes were full-blown red from crying: “I was just following orders.” That’s when the camera would be set down, but not off, and we’d hear Michael cry and reveal where all of the holes are that he had to dig for Patricia’s ex-husbands.

OR…Is there a dark side to this seemingly permanently-chipper old man butler? I bet there is guys…I REALLY, REALLY BET THERE IS!!! There is no way that you can bring dirty martinis to some stuck up lady with a face doesn’t move all day, every day without retreating to some secret drug dungeon that allows you to put up with a life you can’t believe you’re living. I don’t actually think that Butler Michael is a closet opium addict, but look at the eyes, there’s something…something dark beneath….and, if there’s not, maybe he could teach all of us how to be happy living a life other than the one you dreamt of when you were 19.

michael kelcourse

“Backstage Pass”

I want to know what the backstage scene looks like for old bands that USED to be known for RAGING party scenes before and after shows. Think along the lines of: The Rolling Stones, The Who, and Aerosmith. Listen, I don’t actually know if these bands were known for being fucking party animals, but I just assume that older rock bands all did cool drugs and were skinny alcoholics during their heydays SO JUST GO WITH IT!

They’re probably a bunch of recovering addicts now, but doesn’t being backstage after a show trigger some “man, I’d love a fucking beer right now”-urges for these guys? How do they overcome that? If I’ve had a weekend of hard drinking, I’ll tell myself on Monday that I’m not going to drink for a few days. Then, I’ll go for a run, get home, open the fridge and think to myself “Sweet Baby Jesus a beer sounds AMAZING.” 3 beers later, I’m talking to The VP about how “I deserve these.” And that’s from the rush of running on a treadmill! Give me the rush of having 30 plus thousand people treating me like the coolest cult leader of all-time and I’d be doing keg stands on the hood of a convertible weaving down a congested highway!

Or maybe they’re not able to overcome those urges and the code of being backstage just shields them from having to publicly admit that they’re actually not sober. Like, maybe you have to sign a non-disclosure agreement that says “when you see Keith Richards drain his 6 pack of wine bottles, you are not allowed to text your high school friends that Keith’s new biography ‘Sober & Feeling Great!’ is a book of lies”? And if they’re not drinking or doing drugs or COOL STUFF LIKE THAT, what are these aging bands doing backstage? Are Keith and Mick sitting at opposite ends of a big open room just flicking each other off in between telling their young girlfriends why The Beatles are overrated? WE NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS!

“Overnight Pharmacist”

There are 24-hour pharmacies (right? Googling….yep! There are! Continue!) which means that there are pharmacists who have to work the 11PM to 7AM shift. And you know what that means?!?!?! Guys with panicked looks on their faces asking for “uh, the, uh, ya’ know that pill that…the no baby pill?” and people TWEAKING out on god knows what handing over “scripts” written in crayon that say: “Just whatever he asks for. Yours Truly, Doctor”. If I were a pharmacist asked to work the overnight shift, I would insist on wearing a full suit of armor and having a current Navy Seal Sniper Badass Killerguy as my personal bodyguard.

If you’re looking for a magic combination of elements to create drool-worthy reality television, mixing drugs, threats of violence, and darkness with a “person just trying to do their job” seems like a safe bet to me. As for the production costs, you really wouldn’t have any. All you’d have to do is outfit the CVS in rural Arkansas with higher grade security cameras and install some microphones and BOOM, get out of the way and let the night do nighttime things!

I will throw a bit of caution in here that this show does have the potential to be insanely sad and depressing and “this is making me feel horrible about everything.” How do we get around this? Simple, EDITING. The editor of this show will play a VITAL role in dumping the inevitably heartbreakingly sad moments that must occur in pharmacies overnight. Nobody in the world needs to see the stuff that I don’t even want to write about happening because i know that it does and I know that it would make me cry. So…you know what, let’s just make it easy: let’s just have it be the scenes of people being nervous trying to get Plan B pills or unsuccessfully trying to get other sexual-related drugs. An old guy coming in with a fake script for Viagra is comedy gold. GOLD! In fact, let’s just rename the show “Overnight Pharmacist: Only The Funny Sex Stuff and Not The Sad Other Drug Stuff”. THAT SHOW DEFINITELY DOESN’T SOUND DEPRESSING!

MY WORLD:

The VP and I went to Nashville this past weekend, and it made me think about whether or not I could move again. And if I can’t, what does that say about the rest of my life?

When I went to Los Angeles for grad school and student lo-(nobody wants to hear about your debt) I was VERY single and poor at an age where it was socially acceptable to be unable to afford clothes from somewhere other than Old Navy. When I moved back to Chicago it was for legitimate family and personal reasons and I was still VERY single (The VP is beginning to question all of the “ex-girlfriend” stories…”Was I your first girlfriend?”-VP to me tonight.) But now at the seasoned age of 33, with a WIFE!, stable job that pays some to most of our bills, and on the verge of maybe trying to become a parent (Am I having a seizure?) do I have the courage to move again?

While out with our BEST FRIENDS who moved to Nashville a couple years ago, and some other super awesome friends of ours, I was flattered to have been asked multiple times “so when are you guys moving down here?” My answers ranged from “oh, ha ha, we’ll see” to “when you find me a job where the pay is good and the uniform is a t-shirt and minimal effort.” The real answer is that I may be too scared to bet on being able to restart my life again at 33 when I’m not the only one that matters to me anymore. The idea of tossing our stuff in a truck and driving off to a new southern adventure is tantalizing, I won’t lie. But that means finding a new place to live and a new job and dealing with a new boss and what if I have to work for a mean lady?!?! WHAT IF SHE YELLS AT ME AND CALLS ME FARTFACE?!?!

Lately, thoughts of blinking and living the same life 10 years from now have been consistent and consistently terrifying. When you drive around alone all day, your mind can only stay focused on reality show butlers for so long. Wading into the murky “what just touched my leg?!?!”-waters of figuring out exactly what I want the VP and my future to be is fun and scary and constant. Is settling into the rest of our lives right now, not only safe, but the financially responsible thing to do? We have both have 401k’s! Or is swinging for something bigger and better than slightly above average, sooner rather than later a risk that we won’t be able to even think about in a few years? The clock is ticking! What type of life necessitates shaking it up with a move? Something worse than ours, right? There are no answers to these questions, I know.

Courage is what it comes down to. I mean, planning would be a major part of a potential move too, but it’s courage first and foremost. Instead of waiting to get suddenly brave or find some big, cool blanket that makes me feel secure enough to stay here, I’ve decided to start something VERY cheesy with The VP. Starting tomorrow, we are committing a half hour, each night to “Dream Time”: where we will put our phones down, put some music on and start writing down about things or places or (hopefully not people) we want to see and do. It’s cringeworthy and I’m sure that The VP will not fully appreciate me outing our lameness on an INTERNATIONALLY READ BLOG. While I may not yet have the courage to pull the trigger on a move or toss an immovable anchor where we currently are, I do have the courage to be honest. When will we move? Maybe sometime. Maybe never. I don’t know, but we are going to start dreaming with our eyes open.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

It’s an emo-Jimmy you’re getting today, so I’m going to lean into it and put up a song that reflects how where I’m at. The lyrics are insightful and if you don’t sway in your chair while listening to this then you’re dead.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Putting on a pair of pants that you’re sure are tight because they’re a 33 waist but then you take them off to look at the size tag and they’re a 34. Can someone please invent cookie-flavored diet pills? Tysm.

JIMMY GAMBLES

No lie, I’ve been taking big-time baths lately on baseball because betting baseball, apparently, IS FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE. Football is coming soon and with it will come the return of this section.

(My account currently at $4.71)

K bye.

Movie Remakes That Would Get You In The Theaters (7/24/18)

OUR WORLD:

What is the age where you stop going to the movies? All of a sudden, it’s some special occasion to go sit with strangers in the dark, overpay for soda in an embarrassingly huge cup, and order a small popcorn (watching that figure) that you have to be careful not to finish before the previews end. (Ever get to the start of the movie and look into your popcorn bag just to see seeds? Enjoy the next 120 minutes of feeling disgusted with yourself!) Going to the movie theaters used to be a thing I’d decide to do on a random Wednesday because…uh…I wanted to. It wasn’t a whole fucking production where I’d have to research the movie on 18 different websites to make sure I wasn’t about to waste 14 of my hard earned dollars. And finding a movie that your wife is ALSO into, so you don’t have to apologize forever if it sucks, is CRITICAL. Few things in life are worse than having to wear a bad movie pick. “Hey, remember that time you talked me into seeing ‘Suicide Squad’?”-is something I still say to a friend of mine 2+ years later. It’s a sharp knife that cuts deep.

I think the age when going to the movies changes is 26. Now, the advent of Netflix and On Demand and all the other shit is not what I’m talking about because that’s a bigger discussion that I DON’T WANT TO WRITE ABOUT! 26 is when you look in the mirror and go “hmmm, I should probably start to prove to people that I’m not a selfish piece of shit.” You start dating another human being; begin thinking about “career path” and actually trying at work, and maybe even buy a dog. You trade “hey bro, wanna go see that cop movie?” for “hey babe, did Belle make a big poop or a little poop on her walk?…NO POOP!?!?!” By the time you get to 33 (guys! That’s my age!) and you’re consumed with work and saving money and talking to your friends about how lame you are now that you’re over 30, going to the movies becomes a long shot. (I’m aware I don’t have kids yet, and I’m sure my friends who are parents are rolling their eyes like “he doesn’t know the first thing about responsibility.” Yeah, you’re right. But I’m writing this blog, so you can back the fuck off.)

In trying to figure out ways to get all of us 30-somethings back into theaters, I would like to propose some remakes of films that let us all down just a little bit. Obviously, we don’t want to see remakes of films that were FUCKING AMAZING because…uh…they can only get worse. But what about those movies that were sooooooo close to being amazing? You know that feeling where you look to the person next to you after 20 minutes and go “holy shit!” but then leave the theater talking about how it JUST missed? Looking back on our pre-26 free wheeling, movie going days, here are the films that JUST missed being great, but would immediately get all our whiny asses back in the theater. Ladies and gentlemen, the “Almost Great Movie Re-Do”:

WAR OF THE WORLDS (2005):

IMDB PLOT SUMMARY FOR THE DUMMIES THAT DON’T REMEMBER THIS MOVIE: Ray Ferrier (Cruise) is a divorced dockworker and less-than-perfect father. When his ex-wife and her new husband drop off his teenage son Robbie and young daughter Rachel for a rare weekend visit, a strange and powerful lightning storm suddenly touches down. What follows is the extraordinary battle for the future of humankind through the eyes of one American family fighting to survive it in this contemporary retelling of H.G. Wells seminal classic sci-fi thriller.

Look, I get that it’s easy to stamp Tom Cruise as a certified WEIRDO, but his IMDB page is a list of “Oh, I loved that”s and if you disagree then you, muchacho, have a big dump in your pants. “War of the Worlds” stands out to me because I remember sitting in the theater after the initial alien invasion, about 20 minutes through the movie, thinking “I cannot wait to watch this every time I see it on TNT for the rest of my life.” And then the last two thirds of the movie didn’t live up to the first act (movie term, UCLA film school nbd…the debt from UCLA film school, however, is a VERY big deal. Shit.) Alien invasion survival movies are in my wheelhouse, though, and the story of a divorced dad trying to save his family, while proving that he’s not the dirtbag everyone thought he was, has JIMMY LIKEY written all over it. (Jimmy relating to a dirtbag divorcee…interesting…) 13 years later, let’s take a shot at recasting:

Ray Ferrier (Originally Tom Cruise): Bradley Cooper–In the 4 years since “American Sniper” he hasn’t been in anything that matters. Time for B. Coop to take on a movie that allows him to be the bright shining star that he is. Combine the cocky dickbag he played in “The Hangover” with the quiet, tough guy he was in “American Sniper” and you have the EXACT divorced dad I wanna watch trying to save his family.

Rachel Ferrier (Ray’s daughter, originally Dakota Fanning): Millie Bobbie Brown–the lead girl in “Stranger Things”. Millie is this decade’s Dakota Fanning; the only teen girl actress that adult men know. That’s why I picked her…I legit couldn’t think of another name and if you can, then congrats, you’re creepy!

Robbie Ferrier (Ray’s son, you’ve never heard of the original actor): Lucas Hedges–the kid from “Manchester By The Sea”. You need a dude who’s almost a full-blown adult (Lucas is 21) so he can rebel against Ray throughout the movie while building up to the scene at the end where we see Ray hug his crying son for the first time in years. Lucas has a great cry-face too, which is VITAL for that climactic “I love you Dad” scene at the end.

Mary Ann Otto (Ray’s ex-wife, you’ve never heard of the original actress): Vera Farmiga–the psychiatrist from “The Departed”. Did I pick her because I have an all-time crush on her? Very much YES. However, when you need someone who isn’t overwhelmingly beautiful (realism, folks) and can also toss a cutting “you were never home!” towards the Ray character, you take the lady who tricked Clooney into falling in love with her like Vera did in “Up In The Air.”

MIAMI VICE (2006):

IMDB PLOT SUMMARY FOR THE DUMMIES THAT DON’T REMEMBER THIS MOVIE: Ricardo Tubbs is urbane and dead smart. He lives with Bronx-born Intel analyst Trudy, as they work undercover transporting drug loads into South Florida to identify a group responsible for three murders. Sonny Crockett [to the untrained eye, his presentation may seem unorthodox, but procedurally, he is sound] is charismatic and flirtatious until – while undercover working with the supplier of the South Florida group – he gets romantically entangled with Isabella, the Chinese-Cuban wife of an arms and drugs trafficker. The best undercover identity is oneself with the volume turned up and restraint unplugged. The intensity of the case pushes Crockett and Tubbs out onto the edge where identity and fabrication become blurred, where cop and player become one – especially for Crockett in his romance with Isabella and for Tubbs in the provocation of an assault on those he loves.

If you told me the director of “Heat” was making a movie about drug-running undercover cops, but the only way I could see it is if I PROVED that I could fly, I would immediately start jumping off buildings. So…I’d essentially kill myself to see Michael Mann direct this kind of movie. I remember seeing it when it first came out and thinking it was too long and too boring and too artsy. There aren’t specific scenes or lines that I remember, and that sucks because this is the kind of movie that you should be quoting to your buddies ten years later. Real, dead serious question for everyone: who doesn’t like movies about potentially dirty cops with personal issues? “Training Day”, “Heat”, “American Gangster”, “Serpico”, and “The Departed” ALL feature these characters and ALL are “I’m not changing the channel until this is over”-classics. Therefore, whenever a movie with potentially dirty cops who have personal issues doesn’t become a “I’m not changing the channel until this is over”-classic they should just keep remaking it until they find the right balance.

Sonny Crockett (Originally Colin Farrell): Tom Hardy–if Tom Hardy isn’t the first name to come to mind when trying to think of a badass with good hair and underlying personal demons, then you need to get some electroshock therapy cuz your mind is BUSTED. Listen, Tom Hardy could be in a movie about birdwatching and I’d stand in line to go see it, but him getting to play a coked out cop who falls in love with the wrong girl is what he was born to do. Who else is excited for the scene where he kills a bad guy with his bare hands and then flips his hair back and looks at the camera like a dog with rabies trying to catch his breath? I SEE IT IN MY DREAMS!!!

Ricardo Tubbs (Originally Jamie Foxx): Chiwetel Ejiofor–We need a smart looking guy (check!) who also isn’t a total pushover. Combine the character he played in “The Martian” (smart, kinda nerdy dude) with the “whoa, this is a little too realistic”-performance he gave in “12 Years A Slave” and you have someone who can tell coked out Tom Hardy to “JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN!” Will there be a scene where Chiwetel shoves Hardy against the wall after Hardy got a little too physical with a potential witness? You fucking bet there will be!

Isabella (Sonny’s romantic interest, originally Li Gong): Rooney Mara–Let’s think of a girl who we could see married to a drug kingpin. She’s going to have to look a little scary, but also be able to pull off a little “girl next door” so that Tom Hardy can save her with his cool hair and reckless behavior. Rooney proved her scary chops in “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” where I remember thinking “I would rather date Michael Myers than this girl.” AND! She proved her “girl next door” chops as the Mark Zuckerberg’s opening-scene girlfriend in “The Social Network.” Her signature scene in this will be when she’s next to her drug kingpin bad guy but giving the “we shouldn’t do this”-eyes to Tom Hardy. FORBIDDEN LOVE IS ALIVE AND WELL!

BATMAN BEGINS (2005):

IMDB PLOT SUMMARY FOR THE DUMMIES THAT DON’T REMEMBER THIS MOVIE: When his parents are killed, billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne relocates to Asia where he is mentored by Henri Ducard and Ra’s Al Ghul in how to fight evil. When learning about the plan to wipe out evil in Gotham City by Ducard, Bruce prevents this plan from getting any further and heads back to his home. Back in his original surroundings, Bruce adopts the image of a bat to strike fear into the criminals and the corrupt as the icon known as ‘Batman’. But it doesn’t stay quiet for long.

Maybe in hindsight this movie looks worse than it really is, but “The Dark Knight” and “Dark Knight Rises” were so much better than the first in this trilogy that I’m dying for Chris Nolan to ask for a do-over. It’s a Nolan Batman movie so it’s still watchable, but tell me one scene that you actually remember from this movie and I’ll be your butler for the rest of my life. You can’t do it. Meanwhile, we can all basically remember EVERY. SINGLE. SCENE. from “The Dark Knight” and most of Tom Hardy’s scenes from “Dark Knight Rises”. What do I think went wrong? I think it wasn’t dark enough and Liam Neeson just isn’t THAT captivating of a villain. Tough to go up against Ledger’s “Joker” and Hardy’s “Bane”, but the most memorable part of Neeson’s “Ducard” is his weird facial hair. Whenever some dummy asks you “well, what sequel was EVER better than the original?” you should start with this.

Bruce Wayne/Batman (Originally Christian Bale): Michael B. Jordan–Trying to think of who should play Batman next is always a fun game. This time, I just kept going back to MBJ. Yes, him being the first black Batman would cause a social media meltdown in both good and bad ways, but he checks ALL of the boxes we need for a Batman. Young enough to kick off a franchise that could span the next decade? Check. A big enough star that people would be excited to see him don the cape? Check. Ability to look great in a tux, built enough to kick many many asses, and acting chops to carry a love story? Proved his love story chops in “Friday Night Lights” and this dude is built like a shit brickhouse in “Creed”. Try this exercise: Look at the IMDB picture of MBJ. He’s in a tux and smiling. Now close your eyes and imagine if you had to name that person any name in the world, what would you name him? Bruce. Fucking. Wayne.

Ducard (Originally Liam Neeson): Joaquin Phoenix–We need an older guy, who can pull off weird facial hair and go to creepy enough places to create a memorable villain. You don’t get much more enigmatic than Joaquin, folks. The only reason I hesitated casting him in this role is because whenever they inevitably remake “The Dark Knight,” I think Joaquin would make the PERFECT Joker. Too bad, I got him for this first! One of the most underrated actors ever, Joaquin has a nice enough smile to kinda’ trust, with eyes that scream “something DARK is going on behind those!”

Rachel Dawes (Originally Katie Holmes): Elizabeth Olsen–The lesser known, but super beautiful Olsen sister. Katie Holmes was a weird casting decision because she’s not beautiful enough to reel in Batman. Point blank, NOT HOT ENOUGH. It’s friggin’ Batman for chrissake. So we need a KNOCKOUT ROCKET who can pull off the “Bruce! Help!” scream in a not-cheesy way. Check out Olsen in “Wind River”. Stunningly beautiful who can knock the wind out of you with her “I’m about to cry cuz I’m scared”-face.

Jim Gordon (Originally Gary Oldman): Kyle Chandler–This guy was meant to play Jim Gordon and I will not hear any arguments that say otherwise.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

A guy I’m kinda’ friends with on Facebook posted this and I almost fainted.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you have to pick up your wife from the airport at 10PM on a Sunday while making sure to pretend that you’re not SUPER SALTY that she ruined your martini and HBO weekend sendoff.

K bye.

Common Drunk Mistakes and Not Going to the Gym (7/10/18)

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.

Becca is RUINING “The Bachelorette” (6/26/18)

OUR WORLD:

I’m doing my best to hold out for the many many MANY readers who are waiting on baited breath for my takes on reality television, but I have to come clean: I’m about to bail on this season of “The Bachelorette”. Why? (Solid question, thanks for asking) Because Becca stinks. Excuse me, Becca doesn’t stink, she STINKS LIKE DIRTY RAT PIG! “The Bachelorette” is meant to have a somewhat likable, pretty lady make a bunch of douchey guys look silly while we kinda’ root for her to find the one normal-ish dude in the bunch (it’s like a game of pin the tail on the non-douche!) This whole equation goes right down the crapper when we’re forced to watch an overdramatic Ice Queen play the victim 24/7/365. With the popularity of this blog soaring to new heights EVERY. GODDAMN. SECOND. I’m thinking that this reaches Becca, herself. Therefore, Becca, I’m going to write directly to you.

What’s the deal with the sparkle dresses? The VP of Ops said last night that you “dress like a dickhead” and, being a fashion icon myself (Jimmy Fashion, ever heard of him?), I must say that I agree. You dress like a dickhead. Nobody wears sparkles as often as you do. After a while, it’s like “we get that we’re supposed to look at you, you’re THE bachelorette on ‘The Bachelorette!” Insecure much? (Girrrrrrrlllllll!!!!) And, trust me, I’ve done my best to defend you and your “look at me” sparkles to the VP, but when you turn around and wear some ridiculous crop top on the next group date it amounts to a slap in my face. Aren’t you 30? Do you know what it’s like to defend your dumb sparkles for an entire solo date and then have The VP give me the “told ya'” eyes when in THE NEXT SCENE you’re wearing a t-shirt that’s too small for a baby? BABY’S WEAR LONGER SHIRTS THAN YOU! Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and you best believe Imma write a blog about how I’m FINISHED with you. BELIE ‘DAT! (We get it Jimmy, we’re reading the blog.)

Now let’s get into last night’s episode. There was no part of you that thought “you know, Chris really went all in on that stupid Danke Scheoen performance, I’m going to make sure I talk to him!” Nope. After performing a Wayne Newton cover in front of Waxy Wayne HIMSELF, national television cameras, and a crowd of strangers ALL FOR YOU, you still thought to yourself “I’m only going to believe Chris likes me if he seeks me out later during the group date!” THAT’S LOONEY TOONS!!! If I buy one roll of paper towels for our apartment and The VP doesn’t give me a sincere “thank you so much,” I’m holding a grudge for the rest of the night. And Becca, we have a happy marriage! But nope, you saw a sliver of an opportunity to make yourself into the victim again and BOOM, you took it! When Chris tucked his balls away later and offered that “apology” I almost threw up. He should’ve told you that he was Team Arie and gone back to the Wayne Newton show to see about scooping up the one groupie under the age of 72.

Speaking of Arie, how long are we supposed to feel bad for you? Forever? It’s not like you were in a 7 year relationship that ended on the altar in front of a nationwide audience. You “fell” for an obvious tool who you went on like 4 dates with in a 6 week span. He gave you a ring and then said “nah, never mind I like the blonde more” a couple weeks later. Was it nice of him? Of course not, but he also didn’t tie an anchor to your foot and invite you to go scuba diving. I’ve had rougher break-ups with toothbrushes (but I don’t wanna spend $7 at CVS!!!) Yet, every chance you get, you toss out the “remember, I’m the forever victim”-eyes. You will get no more sympathy from me, you ordered up a big plate of Arie. When The VP orders sushi on a hungover Sunday, I don’t feel bad for her. Just like I tell The VP, “It’s your decision, but we all know it’s going to end horribly.”

Finally Becca, lets talk about Lincoln. We’re getting into the heart of this season and you just picked him over a dude who built the Venmo app. Seriously? You think some mumble-mouth muppet, who cried about a wet picture frame, is more husband material than a guy who LITERALLY built the app that gives you money? Every psychiatrist in the universe who watched that just diagnosed you as a certified IDIOT. I’m sure you have a therapist, so here’s a spoiler for your next session: they’ve labeled you a “lost cause” and are going to drop you as a patient. If this is a ploy to get on Dr. Drew’s new show “Celebrity Idiots,” then congratulations, you just locked up a spot on the inaugural season.

I tried defending you, Becca. But, between the sparkles and the crop tops and the Lincoln stuff and the death glares, I have officially decided that I am out on you. While I doubt I will watch ALL of the rest of the season, I am now rooting for an epic finale. In my dream scenario, you pick someone, Colton probably, and he gets down on a knee. With your heart about to explode with happiness, Colton opens a ring-sized box and says…SIIIIIKKKKKEEE!!!! Then, Arie’s new wife, Lauren, runs out and slaps you in the face right before making out with Colton right in front of you as Arie laughs in the background. Either that, or you pick Garrett without realizing he’s the head of the KKK’s Minnesota chapter.

MY WORLD:

I’m stressed.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I’ve always thought I should like Weezer than I should, but I really do LOVE this cover. I can’t tell if they’re trying to be funny or if this is a cheesy song, but it gets the coveted Jimmyschair “Stamp of Like”!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This whole Pete Davidson/Ariana Grande relationship is making everyone uncomfortable. Can you guys just stop?

I’M TAKING A MINI-BREAK FROM GAMBLING THAT MAY LAST AS LONG AS 4 DAYS BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN ON A DREADFUL LOSING STREAK AND BETTING ON BASEBALL AND SOCCER IS REALLY STARTING TO PISS ME OFF. GIVE ME FOOTBALL NOW.

K bye.

Donald Trump and I Have The Same Birthday (6/14/18)

MY WORLD:

It’s my birthday and if you have yet to wish me a happy birthday, please know that I am aware of it and putting my relationship with you under evaluation. While not a “birthday guy” it is a good excuse to do things that I normally wouldn’t do on a Thursday. This year? I’m thinking of eating a big fancy donut and maybe having a Coke at lunch. (A THRILL A MINUTE WITH THIS GUY!!!) The VP of Ops is taking me out to dinner tonight and is very excited about the present she got me. Unfortunately, The VP has cried on my birthday the past 3 years (not a joke) for reasons varying from “You think I’m a bad wife!” to “You weren’t THAT surprised!” Pairing that history with her excitement for this year’s present means I’m going to have to practice my “Oh my God, this is the best moment of my entire life!”-face for the rest of the day. Odds are that we make it 4 straight years that she has cried. If you have her number, try face timing with The VP around 9:18 tonight to see crocodile tears.

Before I get into a fun list that I felt like writing because IT’S MY GODDAMN BIRTHDAY! I had to touch on one thing that’s driving me nuts. Donald Trump has the same birthday as me. I repeat: Donald Fucking Trump has the same birthday as yours truly. If you’ve thought to yourself “Boy, he’s really ruining everything” lately, AT LEAST HE’S NOT RUINING THE ONE DAY A YEAR THAT’S ALL ABOUT YOU!

If you’re curious about my politics, here’s a hint: I hate our President with all of my heart. An oozing wound with working vocal chords who keeps leaking through his bandages only to tell those surrounding him that it’s not puss, but liquid gold. The fact that some people are mistaking this puss for currency is maddening. Instead of trying to convince the “It’s gold because he told us it is!”-crowd of their shortcomings, I would just like to take a moment to highlight some differences between myself and my birthday twin (god that makes me want to puke).

1) I work out.

2) Bill and Hilary Clinton didn’t come to my wedding.

3) My Dad was not arrested during a KKK rally on Memorial Day in 1927 for fighting ALONGSIDE klansmen. He wasn’t alive back then, guys!

4) I would rather starve than eat a filet of fish from McDonald’s.

5) I’ve never cheated on my wife with a porn star.

6) I think Robert DeNiro is awesome.

7) I have a jawline.

8) I own a dog who loves me.

9) I have not filed 6 of my businesses for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy and then bragged about my business acumen.

10) If my wife was going into surgery and spending multiple days in the hospital, I would not simply “visit” her and then wait for applause when I announced my “visit” on Twitter. I’d hold her hand on the gurney until the doctor told me “we’ll take it from here.” Quick test: if your significant other is going into surgery and you aren’t there with him/her, you’re a bad person.

To beat you over the head with the point of this exercise: supporting President GooGooGaGa is the same as advocating for the opposite of all of the statements above. HAVE FUN WITH THAT!

LET’S GET TO A FUN LIST NOW!

Last night I sat outside, had a few Brewbabies and went through Spotify looking for my 10 Favorite songs. Here’s what I’ve got in no particular order because that’s too hard and BIRTHDAY’S ARE DAYS WITHOUT HARD STUFF! I will warn you that this is not the official JimmyGoodTime’s playlist–actually, a lot of these songs are kinda darker. Let’s call this my “If this song comes on in the car, I’m not getting out until it’s over”-playlist.

*Yes, a lot of these videos have ads, but you can skip past them after 5 seconds so RELAX! I did my best to find cool live versions too. SEE HOW HARD I WORK FOR YOU PEOPLE?!?!

Death Cab for Cutie “Transatlanticism” If the drums at the end don’t give you the chills, you might be dead.

Dave Matthews Band “All Along The Watchtower” Like it more than the Hendrix version…YEAH, I SAID IT!

Kanye West “Through The Wire” I hate that I love his music but Old Kanye was really fucking awesome.

Interpol “Rest My Chemistry” I miss this band.

Queens of the Stone Age “In The Fade” Sneaky good song to run to.

Steve Winwood “Valerie” It’s not a joke how much I love this song. If I ever am in DIRE need of a smile, this song puts one on my big round face.

The Joy Formidable “The Greatest Light Is The Greatest Shade” Girls who sing lead for cool rock bands are, most definitely, the coolest humans on the planet.

Pearl Jam “Black” Unplugged Maybe the most intense acoustic performance of all-time? So jealous that The VP gets to share her bday with my #1 ManCrush

Minus The Bear “Pachuca Sunrise” Brought my brothers to a Minus The Bear concert and my youngest brother got us kicked out before the show even started. This is my favorite song of theirs.

Radiohead “I Might Be Wrong” Do you ever try to mimic the convulsion-like dance moves of Thom Yorke while alone and feel really cool while doing it? Yeah, me too.

Since it’s all about me today, I’m not giving you an “Our World”. OFF TO HAVE THAT DONUT!

K bye

THIS BACHELORETTE STINKS LIKE POOP-AND-WHY I’M NOW A CLUB GUY (6/12/18)

OUR WORLD:

I’m close to being out on this season of The Bachelorette, guys. When the episode started last night, I was having too much fun cooking shrimp tacos and drinking a beer by myself in the kitchen that I just told The VP to let me know if anything crazy happened. The tacos were actually done and I just kept stirring the shrimps while sipping my DEEEELISH beer and making “AHHHH!” sounds after ever sip. After a few, “Oh my god”s coming from the living room, though, I felt it was my duty to soldier on through this episode (salute my sacrifice!) Unfortunately, after toughing my way through that 2 hours of GUCK, I felt even closer to being out. Let’s go over some reasons why:

1) Becca is the definition of “Meh”: The VP does not think she’s hot at all and I go back and forth on it. She dresses like a dickhead, and when Jimmy Fashion is calling out your outfit choices, you KNOW there’s an issue. We get it, you have a flat stomach. Now, how ’bout you act like the near-30 year old you are and wear a full shirt. (Grandpa Jimmy’s getting his gun! RUN!!!) Aside from debating about her looks (Which I didn’t even want to do because that’s superficial and stuff. The VP goes into mean-girl mode and drags me down with her. SHE MAKES ME DO IT!) She’s not interesting or funny or villainous or….ANYTHING EXCEPT “MEH”, though. Has she said anything that has made you close to laughing? She had the perfect opportunity to dunk on Jordan with a joke about his tinder stuff and, instead, she gave a super awkward, passive-aggressive high-five. Look, Jordan is a tool (I actually don’t totally hate him FWIW) but maybe Becca could break out something better than her best ABC Family joke? When she did that and then tried to calm Jordan down by saying “I was just trying to lighten the mood with a joke” I almost drove to the bazooka store to buy a bazooka5000 JUST to shoot my 11 year-old Vizio flat-screen to FUCKING BITS! Next time you’re trying to lighten the mood, make one person in the entire world at least chuckle.

I also think that Becca took acting classes taught by a former construction worker recovering from the “look out for that huge steel beam!”-moment. Are producers telling her to ham up every minor difficulty? Sure, but that’s where anyone who ISN’T an AWFUL actress, just bites their lip and shakes their head while saying “I just don’t know…” Becca, on the other hand, tries to force tears any chance she gets while saying things like “I have nothing left.” She actually said “I have nothing left” when Clay told her he had to leave the show. Really Becca? Clay, while a nice enough dude, was about as charismatic as a used paper towel and had ZERO chance of actually winning this show. Walgreens not having your favorite flavor of KIND Bars is more emotionally devastating than Clay leaving the show. Meanwhile, Becca is clawing near her eyes to wipe away her nonexistent tears. I’m no eye-makeup expert (please do not bring up my college emo phase thx!) but if a woman who wears GOBS of eye-makeup, like Becca, started crying, wouldn’t SOMETHING run down her cheek? IT’S LIKE SHE TAKES US FOR FOOLS!

2) Who are we supposed to be rooting for? I think the answer to this question is Colton, but how hard can you root for a virgin football player? (Jesus, Jimmy’s banging on the virgin again….YOU BET I FUCKIN’ AM!) Seriously, you’re one WHOPPER of a DOOF if you can’t parlay being in the N-F-FRIGGIN-L into one. sexual. encounter. Lying about playing HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL got me laid; this dude has NFL YouTube highlights and can’t get past first base with Tia. I’m sorry, but when you’re a guy who’s just a little too sweet and nice and cute…you enter into Creepsville. Colton seems to be on a mission to Creepsville, USA.

So who else? Garrett? Oh, you mean the douche who supports the theory about David Hogg and the Parkland students being crisis actors? Yeah, I’m gonna pass on this Alex Jones fanboy. If you haven’t read up on the tweets and instagram posts that Garrett liked, do yourself a favor and google it. The VP had tried telling me about it throughout the first few episodes but I wanted to ignore it because trashy TV isn’t supposed to be political! But…uh….this dude is just an asshole. In a sick way, I’m hoping he wins and Becca has to spend the entire reunion show explaining how she doesn’t support making fun of the trans community, tossing immigrant children over a wall, and bullying high school kids who had their friends murdered in front of them. Because Garrett, that fun-loving, gun-toting outdoorsman who just wants to show Becca a good time, enjoys all of those things. Who else would love getting to see Chris Harrison squirm as he asks Becca what she thinks of Trump’s barbaric immigration policies? (Here’s a link to the tweets/instagram posts that Garrett liked: https://twitter.com/AshleySpivey/status/999755526257954816/photo/1)

The one guy who is worthy of rooting for is the stuntman Leo (SWOON ALERT!). The dude with the preposterous hair who makes me laugh in his 48 seconds of weekly screen time, however, has about the same chance of winning as my great great grandfather which is funny because HE’S DEAD! (Yikes, that was dark.) Barring another “he fell off the top bunk”-situation, the final 3 look to be Garrett, Colton, and Blake. A triumvirate better known as “Who gives a shit?”

3) The villains aren’t “villain-y” enough: The VP does seem to genuinely hate Jordan, but how seriously can you hate a guy who talks the way he does? His whole “my professionality is my personality” diatribe was just plain silly. The guys around him were kinda laughing and that’s not what villains engender. You remember Chad? Guys were peeing their pants around him because he was so scary. If one of them would’ve made the “I’m trying not to laugh”-face that all the dudes were making during Jordan’s spat, Chad would’ve torn their heads off their necks and snacked on their brains. LITERALLY, GUYS! And Jordan’s nemesis is weasel-faced David who isn’t coordinated enough to SLEEP without sending himself to the ICU. Also, real quick real quick, in the history of “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette” has a tattle-tail ever won? When David ran to tell Mom, I mean Becca, about Jordan’s tinder stuff he might as well have just left the house. Is Jordan a tool? Of course. But, David is a rich kid with that permanent “You obviously don’t know who my father is”-smirk. Did you see any of the SNL skits this year where they’d have Don Jr. and Eric Trump acting like petulant, idiot babies? DAVID IS THE SNL-EXAGGERATED VERSION OF ERIC TRUMP:

If you want me to hate a character, as ABC obviously does with Jordan, you’ve gotta give me a better adversary than the “where are the railings on the top bunk?”-guy.

MY WORLD:

I went to kind of a club place a couple weekends ago, and I think I’m a club-guy now! (Jimmy NOOOOO!!!!!) Let me know explain. The VP had some super cool Southern friends in town (Southern girls > Northern girls. FACTS ONLY IN THIS BLOG!) and they wanted me to meet up with them after a work thing I had. It wasn’t just me and the gals as there were some boyfriends there too (don’t hate the juicy goss I get to hear when it is just me and the gals TBH) but they were at some place in downtown Chicago I had never heard of. Place I haven’t heard of PLUS downtown Chicago definitely means it was clubby. Knowing this, I decided NOT to change my outfit following my work thang. This meant that I showed up to a club in dirty shorts that are no less than 7 years old, high-socks, gym shoes, and a backwards hat. The VP was mortified. My entrance was a success.

Being the worst dressed male on the disastrously douchey rooftop, and making The VP incredibly uncomfortable in the process, turned into the most fun I’ve had in a club maybe ever? Looking like a high school gym teacher in a sea of hair gel and vodka sodas wasn’t enough for me, though. I would only be drinking canned beers and would NOT be shy about throwing out some painfully uncoordinated “sway-like” dance moves while standing next to The VP. Whenever I’d feel her getting some separation from Coach Me, I’d throw my chin up in the air and belch out a thick Chicago-accented “hey babe, where you going?!?!” I never call her “babe” and I never talk in a thick Chicago accent. I was on a mission to be THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE of every other guy on that rooftop.

While some may say this whole charade was simply a weak attempt to mask my insecurities, I would say…yeah, that’s probably right. In all likelihood, I was in the bottom 11% of guys on that rooftop in terms of looks and bank accounts. If I’m being completely SUPREMELY honest, there were some guys up there who I’m pretty sure were male models. They were tools, but one of them danced with a friend of The VP and all I could think was “thank God, Captain Delicious didn’t ask The VP for a dance” because he was way bigger and better looking than me. If, after a few “hey, I’m just casual”-canned beers, Captain Delicious would have hit on The VP, I would’ve said something like say “Hey…can you not do that?” while simultaneously praying that this dude didn’t feel like showing The VP how far he could throw me. Thankfully, the adonis I referred to in my head as “Captain Delicious” danced with The VPs friend a few yards away from me; allowing me to whisper cutting remarks about his DUMB HAT in the VPs ear. Yeah, I’m one tough hombre.

Following this near-death experience, though, I went back to making The VP uncomfortable while earning a beer buzz in a place known for low-cal libations. The music was silly and thumpy, but different enough that me yelling “how about some Incubus?!?!” at the DJ earned a few chuckles. (Real talk: who wants to open an Incubus-only bar with me? Incubus on the speakers, and a menu that only consists of nachos and cheap whiskey shots. GET READY FOR FUN!) Clubs are supremely uncomfortable for non-douchebags when they’re single. However, 6 years later, when these non-douchebags are now married, clubs are a bastion of inadvertent comedy. Now that I’m married and in my 30s, I’m a club guy. CATCH ME ON THE DANCE FLOOR!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Getting a chocolate chip cookie from Potbelly at lunch because it’s your birthday week and calories don’t count that week.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Getting sleepy at work 2 hours after you ate a massive sandwich and chocolate chip cookie from Potbelly during your birthday week.

K bye.