Category: Films

“The Bachelorette” Recap: The Biggest Wuss in America. (6/5/18)

OUR WORLD:

Can we cool it with the crying, guys?  Last night’s episode of “The Bachelorette” was embarrassing for men everywhere.  EVERYWHERE.  From Lincoln crying about his picture with Becca being tossed into the pool, to that Southern NOBODY making an ALL-TIME cry-face after he got booted, last night may go down in history as the night millennial’s ruined manhood in America.  This episode, though, was about one thing and one thing only: Lincoln taking the crown of “Biggest Wuss in America”

I’m all for a sensitive moment, here or there, but how come every goddamn moment in this show has to be the guy proving to Becca that he’s capable of embarrassing his grandfather?  Let’s try to go through this as best as I can remember, because I am NOT going to rematch that atrocity to make sure I get the sequencing right (I HAVE WORN A TIE 4 TIMES IN THE PAST YEAR FOR CHRISSAKE!!!)  

The Lincoln Crying Part

First off, Linocln’s accent really does sound like he’s a community theater actor trying WAY too hard.  Now when the episode started and you saw guys acting excited about “being pampered” by getting to put on tuxedos, we all should’ve known that this was the start of something epically embarrassing.  What guy gets his rocks off by drinking champagne and trying on tuxedos?  That’s a fun date for a guy?  Guess I’m more of a loose cargo shorts and chicken fingers kinda’ guy (SWOON ALERT!  Also, I don’t really wear cargo shorts anymore, but I miss the times when I did.) Here’s an idea: let’s drink something that no man ACTUALLY likes while wearing clothes that make you feel like your entire body is choking.  WAIT, DO WE GET TO DRINK CHAMPAGNE IN TUXEDOS?!?! AND THESE DUDES WERE ACTING LIKE IT WAS CHRISTMAS MORNING.  Once I saw this, I turned to the VP with a “something is afoot”-look.  She knew too.

Following this misplaced excitement, Chris Harrison and the GENIUS producers threw a twist in: obstacle course time.  Guess what, Champagne Papi’s?  TIME TO GET MESSY!  YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO CRAWL THROUGH MUD!  They should’ve made the obstacle course ACTUALLY difficult and had them run up to a family member who fought in a war and then have to explain how much they enjoyed the champagne and fashion show. “Hey Grandpa Bill, remember that time you told me about you hunting Nazis in the middle of the night when you were 19?  Well, I don’t mean to show you up, but I’m 26 and just cried because I got to try on a tuxedo.”  COOL!

Lincoln “won” this obstacle course because he cheated.  Two questions: 1) What in the LIVING FUCK was Chris Harrison doing?  Was he too busy preparing to remind all the guys that one rose left on the table means that “this is the final rose” to, I don’t know, POINT OUT BLATANT CHEATING?  This should’ve been Chris “The Captain of I-Have-Done-Nothing-Meaningful-With-My-Life Mountain” Harrison’s shining moment as he swooped in with a hand in Lincoln’s cheating-ass chest to push him back to the ice tub.  But no.  Yet again, Chris Harrison’s inactivity reminds us that he’s television’s most useless human being.  The person who refill’s Hoda Kotb’s backstage wine during “The Today Show” contributes more to the success of that show than Chris Harrison does to this.

SECOND QUESTION:  None of the guys throw a John McEnroe type fit about this cheating?  They just take it like the losers they are.  This was the perfect set up for a star-making comedy turn if one of these guys would’ve lost their mind.  Maybe they get kicked off the show, but at least they’re known as the funny guy who stands up for FAIRNESS!  If it were me, I would’ve taken my shirt off, lit it on fire and whipped it around my head while screaming “WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY BASED ON RULES!!!!”

Later that night, Lincoln and his mood ring of an accent got all emotional when Becca gave him a picture of him with her after the obstacle course “victory.”  Him pretending that this was meaningful almost caused me to punch myself IN THE FUCKING FACE.  “Oh, a picture from earlier today…sweeeeeet….”  Nope, this dumbass picture was enough for Lincoln to declare this as “the best first date” of his life.  OUCH, BRO.  VERY OUCH.  How do you think the “second best first date” of Lincoln’s life went?  The girl kick him in the nuts and staple a “I have no real friends” sign to his forehead?  (“Yes, that girl did fire a staple into my forehead, but my Aunt bought me this ice cream cone so, all in all, it was a pretty good night.”-Lincoln re: the second best first date of his life, as blood pours from his forehead onto his vanilla ice cream.)  

The episode really kicked into overdrive, though, once Fitness Coach Connor (I said I’m not a trainer!) tossed the framed photo of Lincoln and Becca into the pool.  I actually respected the move at the time.  This group of dudes was WAY overdue for a meathead moment, and this was kinda’ close to that.  I was in.  But then Lincoln tattled to Becca which eventually led to Connor giving a HEARTFELT APOLOGY.  WHAT?!?!?!!? Once Connor found out that Lincoln ran to Becca to cry about that dumb picture taking a dive, he should’ve gone to the nearest gun store to buy a sawed-off JUST so he could put it to Lincoln’s head. “Now Lincoln, you’re gonna be a good boy and go back to Becca to tell her that you dropped the picture in the pool and that your good friend Connor dove in to pick it up for you.”  I’ve decided that firearms need to be introduced to this season of “The Bachelorette”.

Instead, though, Connor forced up some “that’s not me”-type apology re: the picture in the pool.  If you weren’t yelling “oh give me a fucking break!” at your television by this point, we may be different species.  Not only that, but that apology WASN’T ENOUGH FOR BECCA.  She still had to throw the “I just need some time” at Connor.  Some time for what?  To remember that grown man Lincoln ran to you like a teacher at recess?  Hey Becca, is that the kind of guy you want to BE THE FATHER TO YOUR CHILDREN?!?!?!

Lincoln wasn’t done, though.  Nope.  No way.  The next morning, while recounting this picture in the pool situation, he started crying in front of a group of guys that weren’t there.  This was the most unbelievable crying situation I’ve ever seen.  UN. BE. LIEV. ABLE.  A 26 year-old man who is built like a friggin’ adonis just cried in front of a group of guys about a picture of him with a girl he had spoken MAYBE 4 sentences to in his entire life.  You know the Starbucks barista you’ve seen a few times?  Now imagine being surrounded by a bunch of strangers, all guys, and crying about a picture of you and that Starbucks barista that was tossed into a pool.  “She always put just the right amount of foam on top of my latte!”  During this whole scene, I was DYING for one of these guys to go into straight-bully mode: point at Lincoln, laugh like any movie villain EVER, and try to stuff him in a closet somewhere in that big, dumb house.  If you showed a video of this scene during an Anti-Bully rally, you’d see the entire crowd shrug like “are we sure we don’t want ANY bullies?”

If you still think that guys with muscles can’t be ALL-TIME-WIMPS, I would like to introduce you to Bachelorette Lincoln, “The Biggest Wuss in America”.

A QUICK JIMMYSCHAIR SUGGESTION IN LIEU OF A “MY WORLD”:

The pilot episode for “Succession” on HBO was one of the best pilot episodes I have seen in a while.  Terrific acting plus solid writing equals ME LIKEY.  If you’re looking for a new show to get into, “Succession” has “You’re going to talk to your friends about this”-written all over it.  Supposedly, other reviews said the episode was “boring.”  Too bad those other reviews are stupid and should be IMMEDIATELY redacted because that is PATENTLY WRONG.  It’s funny and smart, and if you don’t think Brian Cox is the best “angry old-guy” actor going, you need to get your head out of the sand, pal!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I like this remix because I’m YOUNG!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Supposedly, this guy saw this kid messing with a bunch of cars in the parking lot, and tried to put a stop to it.  Aside from hating this kid, the reason I hate this video is that there wasn’t some other kid to act like a hero by jumping in with a tire iron to WHOMP this little brat.  If we’re being totally honest, I would’ve been fine if this adult threw this kid into an active volcano, but I don’t think I can totally advocate for that in a public forum such as this.  If, however, someone the same age as this kid, showed up with a home-run swing and a rusty tire iron, we’d all be happy, right?

 

WRITING ABOUT GAMBLING ON THE NBA FINALS IS BORING ME SO I’M GOING TO TAKE A BREAK FROM IT FOR A LITTLE BIT.  PLEASE DON’T CRY LIKE “BACHELORETTE” LINCOLN ABOUT THIS.

K bye.

Procrastination Nation and Under-The-Radar TV (5/17/18)

MY WORLD:

Are you a procrastinator?  ME TOO!  Sometimes I’ll go on like 3 week spurts where I’ll be super productive and “ahead of the curve” and then…oh, I don’t know, The VP and I will start “Game of Thrones” AND PUSH EVERYTHING ELSE TO THE SIDE.  All of a sudden, it’s Mid-May and both my drivers license (“license” is a hard word to spell FYI.  I’ve never gotten it right on the first try) and my city sticker expire in June.  Which means, folks, that I’ve basically missed the deadline to renew both of these by mail and now I need to go to the DMV in-person.  WAY TO GO, ME!  WAY TO ADD AN ABSOLUTELY MISERABLE CHORE TO YOUR LIFE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T PLAN AHEAD!  LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I GIVE YOU JIMMY “THE ASSHOLE IDIOT” POMERANTZ; GIVE HIM A ROUND OF APPLAUSE!!!

The most messed up part of this whole situation is that I remember getting a reminder about renewing my city sticker a few months back, looking at it and saying to myself “I’m probably gonna forget to do this until the last second and, therefore, force myself to go to the DMV in person.”  Seriously, I remember it like it was yesterday.  The only thing is, it was funny then, and it’s NOT FUNNY now.  When I was a boy in schooling (I don’t know why, but saying “when I was a boy in schooling” with a British accent is making me laugh V hard) I remember all of the sleek justifications for procrastination.  The schooling I’m talking about, mind you, was when I was in grad school for screenwriting (I’M LIVING MY DREAM!).  A bunch of my classmates and I would read stories of famous writers who would talk about how “all writers are procrastinators” that our framed procrastination as being almost necessary to become a successful writer.  Guess what, guys? That was total bullshit.  All writers aren’t procrastinators.  All writers get nervous when they don’t have anything to write about and then they distract themselves from facing the blank white screens because it white = failure.  DROPPIN’ TROOF BOMBS Y’ALL!

I, however, am a legitimate, red-blooded American procrastinator, and here are the things I constantly find myself addressing either at the last minute or…after the last minute…Is this an attempt to take the sting out of my failures by finding fellow procrastinators?  YOU BETCHA!

Buying toilet paper before I run out

I thought I’d get better at this after college…then after living with 3 dudes…then after getting married…and I’m still terrible at it.  If I was in a job interview tomorrow and they asked “what are some of your weaknesses?” I would be forced to tell them about how often the paper towel roll ends up in my bathroom.  It’s sad how I’ve perfected the art of tearing apart the plies of paper towel so as not to clog the toilet with a too-absorbent tissue.  Usually, it’ll take about 3 days of me walking into the bathroom and seeing the paper towel roll awkwardly hanging off the toilet paper holder for me to make a trip to CVS to rectify the situation.  Could The VP of Ops step in here and make a trip herself? Yes, but she has the FANTASTIC excuse of “well, I don’t have a car.”  For as useful as having a car is, I do wonder if the excuses I’d be able to unlock by NOT having one would be more beneficial…

Doing the laundry before I’m forced to wear the emergency pair of loose boxers

Past the age of 27, most men make the switch from boxers to boxer briefs.  Screw a Bat Mitzvah, this is when a boy becomes a man!  (Bar Mitzvah? Bat Mitzvah? You get what I’m saying.)  However, we all keep like one pair of boxers to be worn “just in case”, and that “just in case” is just in case we put off doing laundry to the point where we run out of clean boxer briefs to wear.  The “Just In Case”-Boxers will be kept in most men’s underwear drawer for a minimum of 49 years.  (Mine are from mid-college.  The elastic is BARELY working and they have multi-colored christmas trees all over.  If you happen to catch a glimpse of these peeking out above the waistband of my jeans someday, best keep your distance).  It’s not flattering, and we know that, BUT! Who’s gonna see them?  Seriously, it’s like having a fire extinguisher in your house; you hope you never have to use it, but you’re happy it’s there just in case.  These loose, awful feeling boxers are also kinda’ necessary because they do FORCE me to do laundry that same day.  Going into day 2 wearing my loose, christmas tree trunks is an absolute nightmare scenario.  NIGHTMARE. SCENARIO.

Checking my credit card balance before it gets declined at a restaurant and I act super surprised in front of everyone that heard the waiter tell me “this one didn’t work”

I JUST DON’T WANNA LOOK!  Quick aside: The VP hates when I talk about money stuff.  She’ll say “I don’t want people to think we’re living under a bridge!”  We’re not living under a bridge.  We’re actually doing relatively TOTALLY FINE, but that doesn’t stop me from throwing EVERYTHING on my Citi card so I can get POINTS POINTS POINTS!!!  (I’m a slave to points, guys.)  But then, what’ll happen is, I know I’m getting close to my limit but I put off looking at my account online because I don’t want to have to face how much I’ve spent on Cliff Bars and Waters (and candy) at 7-11 over the past 10 days.  When I do finally go to check my account online, I definitely hold my breath and wince while the “recent transactions” page loads.  Sometimes I just get so nervous that I bail out of the site before it loads (‘load’ is a funny word).  Much the way girls do, I have a “that time of the month” period where every time I hand over my Citi card (free advertising…maybe throw some points my way?) it’s a roll of the dice.  I’ll try to watch the server at the computer terminal to see if they’re running the card more than once.  If it’s more than once, I’m dead.  If they’re shaking their head or rubbing the strip on the back of the card, also dead.  If I can see this ahead of time, though, I at least have however long it takes them to get back to the table to come up with a feasible excuse.  “Weird, I thought I activated that one”-is a go to.  However, if I’m unable to see them at the computer terminal, and they sneak up on me from behind with the “I’m sorry sir, but there seems to be an issue with your card”-I’ll momentarily panic.  My instinct is to shoot a flared-nostrils look at The VP and yell “RUN!!!” Unfortunately, The VP is simply not fast enough to keep up with me.  Knowing this, I’ll usually just make some self-deprecating joke about how expensive my Peanut M&Ms habit has become.

OUR WORLD:

Are we all officially overwhelmed with the amount of television choices?  Over the past few weeks, while proudly crowing about how The VP and I had finally started “Game of Thrones”, I was normally met with a “oh that’s nice, but you HAVE to check out this show!”  If you can’t tell, I love T.V.  We all love T.V.  I’m not even counting the people who say “I don’t own a TV” because they are not people…they are animals (TOPICAL JOKE ALERT!!!)  

But sometimes too much of a good thing is bad.  (Is that the saying?)  I say this because I was planning on writing reviews of G.O.T. (that’s how cool people refer to “Game of Thrones”.  I’m part of that club now.  AND, YEAH, IT’S A BIG EFFIN’ DEAL!!!)  but then I realized that nobody would want to read reviews of a show that are SEVEN YEARS TOO LATE.  My bad on that one.

So, if like me, you’re feeling overwhelmed by every one of your friends telling you to watch a different Netflix show, I’ve compiled a list of OLDER/UNDER-THE-RADAR shows and movies that hold up.  I’m guessing you haven’t seen these or, if you have, its been so long since you have that re-watching them would be like watching them for the first time.  These are not in any order because I don’t want to get into that bullshit.  They’re just good (or I’ve heard they’re good from V reliable sources).  Giddy up!

  1.  “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” (NBC TV Series):  It’s just good. (I know, I watched it.)
  2.  “Deadwood” (HBO TV Series):  I’ve heard it’s good from V reliable sources.
  3.  “In Bruges” (Movie): It’s just good.  (I know, I watched it.)
  4.  “Boss” (Starz TV Series):  It’s just good. (I know, I watched it.)  
  5.  “Reno 911” (Comedy Central TV Series):  It’s just great.  (This show is way too overlooked when the topic of “best comedy series” of the past 20 years comes up.  This is in the discussion.  TRUST!)
  6.  “Adaptation” (Movie):  It’s just fantastic. (An all-time great screenwriter + Nicolas Cage at his best = YUP!)
  7.  “Moon” (Movie):  Think “The Martian” but grittier and more realistic.  Sam Rockwell is the most underrated actor going right now.
  8.  “Terriers” (FX TV Series):  I’ve heard it’s good from V reliable sources.
  9.  “Rescue Me” (FX TV Series):  It’s great and it has been long enough for me now that it’s entering into the “may be time to re-watch that”-category.
  10.  “Zodiac” (Movie):  The more I remember this movie, the more I think I loved it.  Downey Jr and Gyllenhaal at their best.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Top 5 Funny TV Character is “Terry” from “Reno 911”

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When a new person moves into the apartment below you and thinks that talking outside on speakerphone at 11:49 P.M. on a Wednesday night is appropriate.  (ANGRY OLD MAN ALERT!)

I DON’T WANT TO BRAG BECAUSE I’VE BEEN ON A REAL HEATER TO THE POINT WHERE I’M GOING TO ACTUALLY WITHDRAW FROM MY GAMBLING ACCOUNT, AND PUT THOSE WINNINGS INTO BITCOIN.  THIS IS NOT A JOKE, I’M A BITCOIN INVESTOR NOW AND I’M THRILLED ABOUT GETTING TO RIDE THE WAVE ON MY WAY TO BECOMING MEGA-STINKY-RICH.

I mean, I think the new section title says it all.

(My account currently at $327.55)

K bye.

Inventions That Need To Happen (5/15/18)

MY WORLD:

Remember when you were a kid and you would have invention day at school?  That day was the best.  One year, I remember I painted a big cardboard box and had a couple of slots that you’d drop bread and salami down for a “salami sandwich maker”.  (Big salami on white bread guy here.  If you like to get fancy, throw some Cheetos in there.  GAME. CHANGER.)  While dropping wonder bread and cuts of salami through a cardboard box never took off, I’ve always tried to think of stuff that I couldn’t make, but would love to see.  When I was younger, I’d say stuff like “I can’t tell you my invention ideas because you’ll steal them and get rich off my brain.”  Now, though, as a full-grown adult (but like, my doctor did say I could get over 6 feet tall one day so maybe not…) who knows his limitations (there are a lot!) I’m not afraid to share my genius invention ideas with you all.  Nobody reading this has the bandwidth (business term) to turn these into a reality and get rich off of them.  AND! Even if someone does, I’ll actually find it a little funny about how bad I just jinxed myself there.  Without further ado, here are my “Can someone smarter than me please make these things happen and then give me some money for coming up with the idea?-Inventions”

A hand dryer that makes your hands dry in less than 3 seconds

I don’t know how it is in the women’s room (because I don’t go in there because I’m not allowed) but every time I’m in the men’s room it leads to an awkward exit.  I’ll finish peeing and then wash my hands because there are people there who will judge me if I don’t EVEN THOUGH I TOTALLY DIDN’T PEE ON MY HANDS!  After washing my hands, I’ll try to dry them in those fancy new blower things that every bar has, but it takes longer than it should…and then there’s a line of a couple dudes behind me like “I remember my first hand drier!”  Usually, I get so uncomfortable with holding up the drier (dryer? drier?) line that I just leave with my hands still wet.  AND HAVING WET HANDS STINKS!  You have to dry them on your dirty pants and then, guess what? YOUR HANDS ARE DIRTY AGAIN!

Stop me if I’m asking for too much here, but can’t we have a machine that zaps our hands and they’re immediately dry?  Remember that memory eraser thing in “Men in Black”? Like one of those, but instead of erasing your memory, it just dries your hands.  If you can’t tell, I would very much be in favor of bringing paper towel dispensers back to all of the bathrooms, but I guess that’s gonna make the earth explode.  So that’s out.  Until this flash hand dryer is invented though, can we all agree that standing over someone while they’re trying to dry their hands is unnecessary?  Maybe just pretend you’re still washing your hands for another 38 seconds until my hands are actually dry?

Car slappers

This may be my favorite name for an invention of mine “The Car Slapper”.  Here’s the idea: sometimes honking just isn’t enough.  You ever driving and see a car drift into your lane or right in front of you and all you want to do is give that car a “Hey, I’m drivin’ here!”-slap?  What if, on each side of your car, there was a big inflatable hand–like, the size of a pool noodle but in the shape of a hand–that you could press a button and it would shoot out and SLAP the car next to you?  It wouldn’t damage the bad driver’s car, but it would shock them and be WAY more of a jolt to get out of your way than some lame honking sound.

Also!  I think these inflatable hands should be covered in chalk.  Therefore, if you’re on the road and get “slapped” then other drivers would know to pay extra close attention for the rest of the day because they’d see the chalky handprint on the side of your car.  It would be a scarlet letter of sorts for bad drivers.  Would some people abuse this tool?  I already thought about that, guys!  The only way you can have a car that is equipped with “The Car Slapper” is if you’ve been accident-free for 3 years.  I’m not here to invent things for bad drivers to take advantage of.  I’m here for the rest of us; the cautious drivers who aren’t afraid to stop on a yellow light, or actually pull over at the sound of police sirens.  ALSO! If anything about your car resembles anything from ANY of “The Fast and The Furious” movies, you can’t get “The Car Slapper”.  This includes: loud muffler things, lights under your car, windows that are tinted a little too much, a spoiler, or basically any Honda that has had work done on it.

The get-away-from-me shirt

The name for this one may need work, but the idea is great.  What if you had a shirt that alerted people when they were too close to you?  I don’t want this to be used as a weapon, but what if a shirt was made in a way that if someone got within 3 feet of you, they would get sprayed with a B.O. spray?  Being the guy with B.O. for the rest of the day is MORE than enough of a deterrent to stay 3 feet away from someone.  Here’s how it would work: a FASHIONABLE shirt would be made (not sacrificing fashion here) that would alert people as to what you view as your personal space.  Think, instead of a Nike swoosh on the arm, there’s a “3 FEET!” patch that lets people know that if they get within 3 feet of you, they will be shot with B.O. spray.  If they get within 6 inches of crossing into your personal space, that patch would start flashing like a warning siren that signifies “BACK UP OR SMELL LIKE B.O. FOR THE REST OF THE DAY!”

Imagine the next time you’re walking down the street and you see one of those people with a clipboard and a spiel that you don’t care about.  You see them approaching you and saying something like “Hello sir! Do you care about ending little babies being tortured?”  Of course you do, but you just wanted to get a goddamn sandwich and not talk to anyone!  If you had one of my shirts, you could just point to your “5 Feet!” patch and they’d know not to get any closer.  You wouldn’t have to say anything mean like “No, I don’t care about little babies being tortured.”  All you’d have to do is give a look down to your patch.  They’d hate it, but not as much as they’d hate smelling like “Smelly Richard” from your high school math class.

The fart silencer

Everybody farts, guys.  It’s a funny sound, but it’s also a real thing that way too many people struggle to hide while they’re at work or on a date or in a public place that’s just a little too quiet.  When The VP and I started dating, I hid my farts like a ninja who always had a pained look on his face.  It was about 4 months until she heard my first one, an accidental/laughed-too-hard fart that came out in the middle of a party.  Thankfully, The VP is cool, but it was petrifying.  I half expected her to dump me on the spot.

I’m not advocating for a diaper-like thing or an enema of sorts (too icky, right?!?!)  But maybe just some cool pants that has a muffler like device on the butt?  If I let one out, nobody would hear it because my magic pants silenced it.  I mean, there’s a device to silence a GUN SHOOTING A BULLET–there has to be a pants device to silence a BUTT SHOOTING A FART.  (If you’re not laughing at “a butt shooting a fart” then just stop reading this forever.  That’s as good as I get, folks.)  Every high school kid would immediately buy these and save themselves from confidence-crippling accidental farts.  Remember that time you were doing sit-ups in the gym next to the cute girl and you accidentally let out a RIPPER?  With these magic gym pants, Cute Girl would never know. (Could she smell it? Yes, but that’s always easy to pawn off on someone else.)

*Quick related-story:  I came up with this idea in college.  It was a U.S. History class and we were taking a final.  I was sitting next to a girl I had a crush on, and I was super nervous about that AND taking a final that I was ill-prepared for.  (Don’t worry VP, you’re way hotter than she ever was.)  Anyway, so the classroom was dead silent as everyone worked on the final.  The silence was broken, however, by my stomach growls.  I had to fart, but I couldn’t run out because I didn’t think you could leave the room during a final. So I was holding it in for dear life.  My stomach did not appreciate this, and was letting THE ENTIRE WORLD KNOW.  These growls were angry and scary and…disturbing enough that the girl I had a crush on, literally leaned over and asked if I was okay.  I never asked that girl out.

The Sober-Now Pill

If you’ve been around me much, you’ve probably heard me talk about this a lot.  (In fact, I feel like I may have talked about this in a previous blog…but I don’t want to go through all of them and check, so deal with this.)  How amazing would it be if you got to the end of your night, started to feel that “oh my god, tomorrow is gonna hurt real bad”-feeling, but were able to drop a pill into your last beer and POOF! You’re back to zero.  It would basically eliminate hangovers, drunk driving and you’d save so much on Ubers.  Get bombed, pop a sober pill, drive home.  GREAT NIGHT!

Also, the comedy that could be had would be priceless.  My favorite thing about this invention is thinking about the times I’d sneak this pill into a friend’s beer before they were ready to be sober.  They’d be in the middle of a great night, hitting peak-buzz level and finally unwinding from a stressful week when BOOM! “Did you put a sober pill in my beer, Jimmy?!?!”  GOTCHA JERK!  ENJOY PAYING THAT $90 TAB AND BEING SOBER BEFORE YOU WANTED TO BE!!!  You could never leave your drink unattended around me.  And it’s not like I’d get in trouble for “drugging” you; I’d basically be doing a public-service by ridding the public of your drunken ass.  Cops would thank me!  Please make this happen someone.

OUR WORLD:

Game of Thrones Season 1 Review will be coming possibly as soon as tomorrow!  That was a lot of words I wrote for the “My World” section so you’re gonna have to wait on this one.  BUT! The VP and I finished Season 1 last night and OOOOOOOO DOGGY!!! WE ARE SO IN ON THIS SHOW!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

New song off of Dave Matthews’ new album!  And I found a live video of it!  LOVE!

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you wear a sweater for the first time and you take it off to see that it left a bunch of fuzzies on your white t-shirt.  AND IT’S TOO HOT TO PUT THE SWEATER BACK ON!!! SO YOU HAVE TO WALK AROUND LIKE AN IDIOT COVERED IN FUZZIES!!!

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:

Not to brag, but I hit a Warriors/Vegas parlay last night.  Not to brag not to brag.  I’m getting close to the level where I’ll cash out and dump that money into bitcoin (I’ve decided I want to invest in bitcoin cuz it sounds fun!) Tonight I like Boston (-1) and Tampa Bay (+1.5).  LeBron was way too relaxed after that Game 1 ass-kicking.  He reminded me of that guy who tries to convince himself that he’s not worried when he DEFINITELY IS.  Cleveland stinks, guys.  And the Lightning? I mean, they can’t go down 3-0 without at least putting up a fight.  I say if they lose, it won’t be by more than 1.  GOD MY GAMBLING BRAIN IS FIRING ON ALL CYLINDERS TODAY!!!

(My account currently at $231.76….YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT!)

K bye.

Don’t Do These Things and Redeemable Celebs (5/11/18)

MY WORLD:

It’s Friday (ever heard of it?) and we’re all supposed to be in great moods this morning.  Even though it’s raining, we’re about to get a 2-day respite from our SOUL SUCKING places of employment (jk boss! I love my job every second!)  Who else is looking forward to acting like Jersey Shore Ron for the next 48 hours before curling up on your couch and having the Sunday scaries wash over you?!?!  And now you should hate me because I just talked about Sunday Scaries on a Friday morning.  I would like to introduce my “Things That People Do That Piss Me Off More Than They Should”:

-Talking About Sunday Scaries or Hangovers on Friday or Saturday:  This is a classic Debbie Downer move and, tell me, who does it benefit?  The “ugh, I’m already thinking about tomorrow’s hangover”-person is the same breed as the “it’s almost Sunday”-person who appears around 7PM on Saturday night.  If you are this person, let’s walk through why you’re saying these things out loud in front of people.  Is it because you get nervous when in groups?  Maybe things got a little too quiet amongst a few friends/coworkers and you went into full “shit, things are getting awkward and people are thinking it’s because I don’t know how to converse”-mode?  So you blurted out something kinda floating in the middle of your brain, not quite the back and not exactly the front, but the middle fears that you have mistaken for “this will be a positive addition to the conversation!”  It’s not a positive addition to the conversation.  (Activating Michelle from “Full House”-voice)“Capiche?!”

Listen, once you get to the age of 27, everyone has a time at the bar where they go to pee, catch their reflection in the mirror and think, “oh shit, I’m fucked up and tomorrow is gonna HURT.”  Talking about it doesn’t make it better.  Burying it, does.  So when I head back to the bar to distract myself watching the teams I gambled on slowly lose while burying my nose in a pint glass, can you not ruin the moment with your insecurities?  I get insecure too (mostly when I’m around people who have cool tattoos and tight pants) but I don’t remind everyone that climate change is accelerating at a rate that could GREATLY IMPACT QUALITY OF LIFE WITHIN THE NEXT 20 YEARS!!!!

And to the “it’s almost Sunday”-people, again, we’re all thinking this.  I was the kid in middle school who would have a countdown in my head during winter and summer break about every day was one day closer to having to go back to school; and I would get progressively sadder the closer that return got.  Seriously, by the time August hit, I was a fuggin’ basket case, trembling in the fetal position on my bedroom floor while muttering “I haven’t even STARTED the summer reading!”  You think my Mom coming in and saying “hey kiddo, school’s getting close!” would have HELPED that situation?  It probably would have sent me into an anxiety tailspin where I would’ve written a goodbye note about how my heart was broken by the tall girl in 3rd grade before trying to OD on my Flintstones vitamins.  (Real talk, my sister once had to get her stomach pumped for eating too many of them.)  

In short: keep your fears to yourself on the weekends.

-When people get way too close walking behind me:  You ever walking down a city sidewalk at a reasonable pace, when you can feel someone trying to figure-eight you from behind?  You can almost hear their overly dramatic audible sighs as they’re about to stomp on your heels?  When this happens to me, I’ll normally shoot The VP of Ops a look that says “I’m ‘FINNA LOSE MY SHIT ON THIS FOOL!”  She’ll grab my hand a little tighter and clench her jaw to brace for the impending embarrassment as….I abruptly stop, step to the side and extend my arm to the DOUCHE from behind as if to say “go ahead!”  Seriously, sometimes I’ll even toss a dripping sarcastic “please, go ahead” in a volume low enough for them to hear, but also low enough for me to deny if it turned into an actual confrontation.  If you don’t live to be passive aggressive to strangers, is life really worth living?!?!

Now is the part where I say that me acting like this is grossly immature so you don’t think I’m a total nutspants.  It’s borderline insane for me to think that people walking behind me are to flat-tire my new cool Levi loafers (fashion); and, if someone ever just stopped when I pulled something like this and said something like “what’s your fucking problem?” I’d probably pee my pants while trying to look tough in front of my wife, who undoubtedly is going to look for a divorce lawyer once she gets some wifi access for her phone.  But here’s the rub: I don’t think it’s insane.  In the moment, I think it’s ONE BILLION PERCENT justified to act like this.  If you get within 3 feet of the person in front of you on the sidewalk, they should be allowed to turn around and konk you on the head with a metal baseball bat.

Oh, I also hate slow walkers.

-People on bikes when I’m driving and people in cars when I’m biking:  Fellow car people, is there anything worse than the cool bicycle person blowing through stop signs and screaming at you after they cut you off?  The bike lanes throughout the city have made narrow driving lanes even tighter, yet the bikers seem to use them as a mere suggestion, weaving in and out of the bike lanes as they please.  If you come within 10 feet of them, they scream at you to “watch out!” and, worse, if you open your car door within 5 blocks of any of them, they’re going to confront you about “being aware of your surroundings!”  Roads were built for cars, so if you’re gonna be on one on your bike, you should follow the same rules as cars, right? Why are bikes allowed to blow through red lights and stop signs? IT’S NOT FAIR!  If I have to sit in traffic on a Monday night, why doesn’t Trevor Tinyhat?!?  It’s hard enough sharing the roads with the extras from “Fast and the Furious” and grandparents reluctant to give up licenses.  Adding cyclists who basically dare you to hit them is the exact recipe for Jimmy’s Molotov Cocktail of Anger.  I’M THROWING THIS BOTTLE AT SOMETHING!

Now, just to add some inexplicable contradiction to this; I also hate car people when I’m biking through the city.  I can’t be alone in this dichotomy.  If you can’t tell already, I’m not the cool bicycle person who has the tiny hat and big messenger bag.  Me on a bike is Dad-city; thick tires, not going too fast, constantly making sure you’re keeping up and yelling “taking a right up here” about 6 times before we actually take the right.  (“Taking a left?” “NO DAMNIT! RIGHT!”)  When I do bike, it’s rare, and it usually consists of The VP and I renting city bikes so we can tell people we did an “outdoor activity!”  The VP is normally pretty scared about riding bikes on busy streets and I have to pretend like I’m not and say things like “we have the right of way!”  But when a car gets a little too close, or guns it past us you better believe I’m tossing a “fuckin’ relax” their way!  We don’t wear helmets because we don’t own them (and they’re dorky AND my hair turns to hat-hair REAL quick so I try to avoid that.)  

Maybe cars and bicycles just weren’t meant to share the same roads?  They hate each other and if someone makes an animated “Cars vs. Bikes” movie in the next 5 years, I demand a percentage of the box office.  It’s a classic David vs. Goliath tale in which the bikes mount an offensive against the road-controlling cars; only to realize that the cars are just like they are.  Both sides learn to see the world from the other’s point of view and they come to an understanding that they’re “really not that different after all”.  Hey Pixar? You’re welcome.

OUR WORLD:

I love Kanye’s music, but the way he has been the past few weeks has kinda’ ruined it.  So I started thinking about other celebs/people that did bad things who I’m hoping are able to mount a comeback.  Some of these people have done super terrible things, BUT think about like “what if they solved the homeless situation?”  Here are some people I wish would solve the homeless situation (as in, give all homeless people the houses of rich assholes.  Donald Trump’s house goes to the “Free Smiles” sign guy.)

–Louis C.K.:  I know, what he did was wrong and weird and bad and creepy.  But, he is quite possibly the best stand-up of all-time and made me laugh and forget about my problems anytime I watched his stuff.

–Lance Armstrong:  Okay, you know what? I don’t think he even has to solve homelessness.  I never cared about cycling before him and I don’t after him and, honestly, I really didn’t care about cycling when he was dominating.  What I do care about is ALL OF THE GOOD he did for people with cancer.  That Livestrong campaign was inspiring for so many millions of people going through hard times, that I don’t really care that he was an asshole to reporters and ruined the reputations of some people.  Sue the shit out him, fine.  But, the good outweighs the bad here.  YEAH, I SAID IT!

–Lindsay Lohan:  You notice that the first 3 people on this list all have names that start with ‘L’?  THAT’S SUPER FUCKIN’ WEIRD, GUYS!!! Anyway, I miss “Mean Girls” and “Parent Trap” Lindsay Lohan.  She was funny and good at acting and super pretty.  Then she got way too into drugs and real weird stories about her being a total beeyotch came out.  That stinks.  In her prime, isn’t she a better version of Emma Stone?  She must hate her.

–Michael Jackson:  Him solving homelessness when he’s dead would be a real accomplishment.  Still, he has somehow reached the “yeah, he definitely touched kids, but it’s kinda’ okay because Thriller is the best album of all-time and he’s a great dancer!”-level.  When you’re alone, though, and singing all the words to “Billie Jean” do you ever catch yourself with a “remember that story about him giving ‘Jesus Juice’ to kids?”  Yeah, that stinks.

–Harvey Weinstein:  Just kidding, guys.  He should die in a fire.  Although, let me just throw this out there…what if he was next season’s “Bachelor”?  Think of how conflicted the women on that show would be.  It would ALMOST be evil-delicious…right?  RIGHT?!?! I KNOW!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The VP of Ops will hate me for this, but I do not understand the appeal of this kid AT ALL.  In fact, I cannot stand him.  Not because he’s a kid, but because he’s a kid who got famous for doing a super annoying thing in Wal-Mart?  GETDAFUGOUTTAHERE!

 

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

My favorite actor of all time.  I love everything he ever did.  EVERYTHING.  If someone can make you laugh just by saying “So I says to him…” over and over again, that’s called being ALL-TIME ELECTRIC.

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:

NHL Conference finals start tonight and since I don’t watch hockey really at all throughout the regular season, I am feeling VERY confident about picking the Capitals in tonight’s game.  Uh…Alex Ovechkin is a guy I’ve heard of so SOUNDS LIKE A LOCK TO ME!  (Jesus H. Christ do I need football back in my life…)

(My account currently at: $137.16)

K bye.

Sleeping W/Out AC and Chicago Renters Pt. II (5/2/2018)

MY WORLD:

If you are looking for a way to guarantee waking up in an AWFUL mood, I would suggest breaking your air conditioning unit on the first hot day of the year and trying to sleep when it’s 80 degrees in your apartment.  Thankfully, I, personally, don’t have to break my air conditioning unit because The VP and I are lucky enough to rent an apartment that SUPPLIES malfunctioning units without us even having to ask for it!  It’s almost as if the landlord read our minds when we signed our lease “I bet these two LOVE when the AC doesn’t work and they get to break a sweat while lying in a bed…oh, have I got a surprise for them!”  Well done on keeping that surprise a secret for 8 months!

Honestly, it’s hard to overcome a shitty night of tossing and turning in your own sweat.  I got up at like 3AM just to stand in front of my open refrigerator.  And you know what makes me feel even softer, is that it wasn’t THAT hot outside.  Unfortunately, we cooked last night (resourceful adults, whatever) and used our oven.  It was only after dinner when we realized that the AC wasn’t working.  So we basically hotboxed ourselves/turned our apartment into a makeshift sauna (hotbox is a weed smoking term that I have never done but it sounds SCARY!)  Let me be the first to warn you guys, cranking your oven up on a hot night and turning your 1 bedroom apartment into a homemade sauna is NOT going to relax your muscles.

Then, as if it wasn’t bad enough on us, our numba one pretty gurrrrllll was panting because she’s overdue for a summer cut because we’ve been lazy dog parents lately; so I felt hot AND guilty.  If Belle could read this, I feel like she’d roll her eyes and say something along the lines of “YOU were hot? Try wearing a full-body fur suit and only getting to cool of with room temperature water in a dirty bowl.  Pussy.”  (She would be correct.)  I will say that last night, I put some ice cubes in her water bowl and felt like the hero she deserved; she took sips and huffed out a very sarcastic sounding “woof.”  So now my dog and I are in a fight.

Then comes the part where I let my building know (are you bored with this yet? Yeah? I don’t care, this is somewhat cathartic for me so just leave.  You wanna leave?!?! WHO’S STOPPING YOU?!?!? GOD I’M IN A MOOD!)  Where was I?  (Thanks for interrupting!)  Right, so then comes the part where I let my building know and I get to hear back from like 7 different guys who must ALL have degrees in “Trying To Hide The Fact That I Have No Idea When The HVAC Guy Is Coming.”  Then.  THEN! When they do actually get here, I have to lock Belle in our bedroom and convince the HVAC repair people that she’s not able to bulldoze through the door to maul them because she sounds like a PSYCHOKILLER LUNATIC!  I’ll make some “doesn’t she sound sweet?” jokes, but they won’t really laugh because hearing what sounds like your maker on the other side of a thin bedroom door does not create a fun-loving atmosphere.  And you know they’re not going to be able to fix it the first time they’re hear, so The VP and I are looking at 2 more nights MINIMUM of trying to sleep in our own sweat.  Isn’t that just GREAT?!?!

Knowing me, I’m going to convince myself that this awful night sleep that I got is a valid excuse to eat something really shitty for lunch; an effort to make myself feel better in the short term.  This will, undoubtedly, lead to me feeling extra tight in my new J.Crew jeans and hating myself for the rest of the afternoon.  Optimism is at an all-time low in the Pomerantz household right now.  (If you can’t tell, one of my strong suits is staying composed in adverse situations.)

OUR WORLD:

Today’s Part II of “The Life of a Chicago Renter” may have a slight edge to it based on my current mental state (re: My World).  I just wanted to put that on the record because…nobody cares about the record and whenever anyone says that it’s basically an excuse to act however you want.  Right?  It’s the same as saying “That being said…” and along the same lines as “No offense, but…”

Wicker Park/Bucktown/Logan Square: (Age 28-32)

I like to refer to this as the “I’m not a hipster, but if I live near them I may get hit with some of their street-cred shrapnel”-phase.  You start to become more interested in drinking things other than beer and vodka sodas, and you’re DONE living in places with window-units and no dishwasher.  These west-side HOT SPOTS have exploded in popularity over the past decade, which means what? GRANITE COUNTERTOPS Y’ALL!!!  And in-unit washer/dryers, dishwashers and fancy modern sinks.  A big bowl sink feels like luxury when you’re used to decades worth of Heineken stains in your old-timey sink with the faucet that pops off.

There are more dog parks, so now is the PERFECT time to get a doogenstein and join the “I’m sorry, she was adopted”-crew.  Side note: whether you actually adopted your dog or not, the perfect excuse for a poorly behaved dog is to drop a “yeah, she was adopted” in there.  Immediately, you’re a selfless hero and your doogensteeglestein is a victim of a rough upbringing.  Once in Wicker/Buck/Logan, you’re surrounded by young families, dogs and people that aren’t quite done partying, but do it in a way that it’s not SO obviously destructive.   They’re professionals by this point, which is why brunch becomes SUCH deal.  Nothing like hiding binge drinking with eggs and toast; it’s not destructive or a “problem” if it’s done in the light at a breakfast table.  Remember that.

Then there’s the hipster versus bro civil war that has been simmering for the past 5 years as the bros have infiltrated hipster-land.  What’ll probably happen with you, is what happened with me; you’ll claim allegiance to the bro side of the war when you’re around your bro-ier friends, and then you’ll claim allegiance to the hipster side of the war when you’re around your hipster-ier friends.  No shame in playing both sides here because both sides kinda stink equally.  It’s also fun to sit in restaurants and bars and see the two sides glaring at each other from across the bar.  The hipsters say things like “wow, sweet khakis bro” and the bros say things like “wow, sweet fingerless gloves pal”.  It’s a duel totally devoid of actual wit, that’s easy to identify and fun to watch.

Ukrainian Village/River West/West Town/West Loop: (Age 32-DEATH)

I’m 32 now and I live in Ukrainian Village.  That’s really all the experience I have so…I assume I’ll just stay here till I die, right?

Good section, Jimmy!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I need some good-times music to help make me feel better about the whole AC sitch.  SING TO ME STEVE!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Being in a bad mood for a reason so slight that anyone going through anything that’s ACTUALLY difficult would hate you.

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:

I talked my gambling crew out of taking the Pelicans last night because I was POSITIVE the Warriors would blow them out with Steph Curry returning.  It seems, in the face of all the evidence I had, I have yet to crack the NBA code.  Back to the drawing board, but I’m like that little kid in the deep end who’s about to panic that they’re drowning.  Give me some fucking waterwings or something here!  The Jazz are 11 point underdogs tonight and, they have more pride than that.  Right?  So much pride to take them on the moneyline? YUP!

(My account currently at $88.07)

K bye.

Worse Jobs Than Yours! (4/30/18)

OUR WORLD:

It’s a Moody Monday, and even though it’s sunny and kinda’ warm outside, it still STINKS.  When I took Belle out for a walk this morning, she barked at an older woman on a bike.  The bike woman replied to the barking by immediately stopping, shaking her head in a disapproving manner and saying “that is quite the reaction.”  So my Monday started with a judgmental stranger.  I wanted to be like,”was it worth stopping your bike and going through that whole dramatic routine?”  I didn’t say anything, but I hope she gets hit by a truck carrying grenades.

If you can’t tell, I really need to make myself feel better by getting into today’s “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job list.

Grocery Store Pianist:  I guess you can call yourself a professional musician if you get paid to play the piano at a grocery store, but that’s not going to take away the disappointment coming from your parents and the $65k they WASTED on your college education.  (That was a really mean way to start this section.  MOODY Monday is ALIVE!)  Have you ever had the moment on Sunday when you’re wandering through the pasta aisle, talking yourself out of buying all the pastas, and you hear music that sounds live?  Then you’ll glance around and see that someone thought it would be a good idea to put a GRAND FUCKING PIANO by the paper towel section and there’s a dude in a big dumpy suit ACTUALLY PLAYING IT!

You know that guy has to be nervous the whole time he’s there that someone he went to high school with is going to recognize him and ask “so how’s the music thing going?”  That’s not to say that these pianists are bad, actually I’m normally impressed (not many bands looking for piano players?) but when your job immediately elicits “why do they pay someone to do that?”-responses, you’re in a tough spot.  Seriously, what is lost if the grocery store just…I don’t know, put the pandora piano music station on?  Would there be people that would ask for the manager and be like “where’s the paper towel section piano concert that I was promised?”  ALSO! the tipping situation is a no-win for everyone involved.  You can’t ask the pianist if he accepts tips because that’s super awkward.  The baggers and cashiers have no idea.  Then if you do tip the pianist, maybe you’re making him feel worse (like a beggar!).  But if you don’t, and he was expecting it, then he’s not making money.  BUT WHO BRINGS PIANIST TIP MONEY TO MARIANO’S?!?!

The only people who genuinely appreciate this person, the ones who applaud at the end of the songs, are looked at by EVERYONE ELSE IN THE STORE like real weirdos.  They’re the same people who applaud pilots when the plane lands.  We get applauded for doing our jobs now?  And the pianist probably doesn’t like it cuz it draws attention to him and raises the chances that someone he knows will recognize him.  I’m sure they play it off like “I just love playing music,” but that’s garbage because they probably had to apply for that position.  It’s not like a Mariano’s manager was just taking a stroll, overheard someone playing a GRAND FUCKING PIANO, and asked if they’d share their gift with the loyal patrons of the paper towel section.

Auntie Anne’s Pretzel Maker:  Ever feel like you’ve eaten only carbs for an entire day and then you retrace what you’ve eaten and YOU HAVE ONLY EATEN CARBS?!?!  Then you get sad and look in the mirror and suck your cheeks in and tell yourself that “diet starts tomorrow.”  If you’re an Auntie Anne’s Pretzel Maker, you are surrounded by delicious smelling, buttery salty carbs all day, everyday at work.  Don’t tell me “oh, you’d get sick of it” either.  There’s no better smell in the whole wide world than the pretzel stand in the mall food court.

If that’s your job, though, and you’re trying to be frugal because…I mean because you work at Auntie Anne’s…then you probably get a free lunch as part of your shift.  Which would be nice unless you’re just starting your diet and all Auntie Anne’s has are BUTTERY TWISTED CARB LOAFS!  Has anyone in the history of the universe ever ordered anything OTHER than a pretzel at Auntie Anne’s?  Pretty sure they don’t have salads, so the pretzel maker’s free lunch is either “with salt” or “without salt” (who in the fuck get’s “without salt” btw?)

So you’re just sweaty, probably covered in a thin layer of butter, not making that much money AND unable to EVER start a proper diet.  I bet the pretzel makers look over at the salad stand in the food court and ask for trades, but the salad people are like “nah, I just cut out carbs.  Smells great, though!”

Old Timey Shoe Salesman:  The old guys in the suits who are super sales-y and try to talk you into trying shoes on and then treat you like you’ve never put a shoe on in your life.  They have that real shiny shoe horn thing, and their WAY too comfortable handling your feet.  Once they’re at that level, there’s no turning back because those skills don’t translate to other industries.  Not like a pharmaceutical sales company is gonna be like “now tell me about the time you shoehorned that coalminer’s swollen foot into the penny loafer.”  That’s just your job forever.

But what about the process that desensitized these people so much?  Nobody is just automatically comfortable handling strangers feet, right?  (There’s gotta be one guy reading this who just looked over his shoulder and is like “I mean…sounds good to me…”)  How about the first time a woman with smelly, scabby feet came into your section?  You could see that she wasn’t wearing socks, but it’s not like you had to see it because you could DEF smell it.  You get fired if you refuse to help her, and I don’t think you can wear surgical gloves.  We’re talking skin-to-smelly-scabby-skin contact here, folks.

MY WORLD:

The VP of Ops is back in town after being gone most of the past 2 weeks, and it has been somewhat of a rocky readjustment period.  Is it just me, or when your spouse leaves do you IMMEDIATELY revert to your single ways and then kinda’ fight when they get back because you’re used to living like a bachelor?  The VP took my car to Trader Joe’s (a place I’d rather NEVER SEE AGAIN) and came back all “Don’t worry, I threw out your chewing tobacco tin.”  Then she walked past me all nonchalant with a little smirk to make me feel REAL small.  So I hit her back with a “so happy you’re back!” but I didn’t laugh because I was going for something deeper.  Counter-punching, ever heard of it?

Then our spring cleaning turned into me watching The VP just create bigger messes while rearranging furniture to “open the room up.”  Maybe just crack a window next time instead of dumping all our mail over the floor? But then I’m not allowed to be mad because I wasn’t doing anything (because it was Sunday and I was in full-on do-nothing mode).  So we just kind of didn’t say anything to each other for a while except the occasional “I love you” to break up the silent-fight we were having.  Being married is fun.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I could not be more excited about the Bears drafting Roquan Smith and I spent the majority of the weekend looking up videos like this…

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When parents talk to their kids like adults in public in an effort to sound funny, but their kids don’t understand it so they keep crying.  Confused?  Think of a parent saying something along the lines of “I am not understanding your viewpoint on this issue” to a crying kid.  It’s not that funny and it doesn’t help settle down the kid.

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:

I got absolutely demolished this weekend.  I’m telling myself to take tonight off…but that probably won’t happen.

(My account currently at $108.14)

K bye.

Single Jimmy at His Worst and NFL Draft Scouting Reports (4/26/18)

MY WORLD:

A couple days ago I wrote about “Single Jimmy” and posted a blurry picture of myself on Instagram.  I would like to tell you the origin story of this picture.

I was working as a 21 year-old MANAGER! at an Italian-ish restaurant in a Northern suburb of Chicago.  I had been there for about a year and a half; quickly climbing the mom-and-pop-restaurant ladder going from carry out to server to manager in the blink of an eye!  To this day, many people still speak of how quick my ascension to MANAGEMENT was (they don’t?  Are we sure?  Well, how many people have you asked?) REGARDLESS!  Throughout these two years, I would work full time and go to college full time by scheduling all of my classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  On those days, classes would basically go from 9am to 10pm, which would allow me to work the other 5 days of the week at the restaurant.

–QUICK ASIDE, I’m going to call the restaurant “Casa’s House” because that’s an inside joke to the people that have worked there, but NOT the actual name of the restaurant (this Jimmy’s a real huckster, if you ask me.)—

I tell you about this schedule not to brag about my work ethic (even though you MUST be impressed) OR make you feel bad for me, but to illustrate that my ENTIRE social life was also wrapped up in this restaurant.  And that was a great thing!  It was the first place I felt part of a solid group of friends and it helped me regain some of the confidence that was lost during the “No really, I like eating lunch alone in the library!”-high school years.  By the time I became MANAGER! at “Casa’s House” I had even dated a waitress (a relationship that didn’t work out for some reason that I’m sure had nothing to do with my claims that her therapist was “out to get me.”)  With confidence now above negative 3 trillion (the High School low water mark), I had developed a crush on another co-worker, lets call her “Larry” so when the VP of Ops asks me about this story, I’ll laugh when she gets jealously scoffs “Who was this LARRY girl?!?!”.  LARRY was younger and better looking and more popular than me, BUT I tricked myself into thinking I had a chance with her because I was now a MANAGER! (Did I mention I was a manager?)

As anyone who has worked in restaurants knows, the best time to make a move on a work-crush is at a company get-together because it’s WAY TOO SCARY to just ask them out on a date.  So I spent the first few months of Larry’s employment trying to organize group outings after every shift we worked together.  “Guys, we are SO OVERDUE for a Tuesday-hang!”-would be something I said around this time.  Then, I’d turn to Larry and be like “Oh Larry, I forgot you were even working tonight.  Would you like to join us? Not like I care or anything, but like, ya know, whatever.”  (You could say, I knew how to play hard to get.)  Most of these NOT-OBVIOUS-AT-ALL attempts to hang with Larry ended with me going to a local dive bar with everyone but Larry, but there were a few times she’d come by and we’d flirt.  She was about to start college, so I could kinda’ play the cooler older guy role until she spoke to ANYONE who knew me in high school.  The idea was to impress her enough during the summer months that we’d become bf/gf and fall in love and everyone would be impressed AND WE’D BE TOGETHER FOREVER!

Unfortunately, Larry began to lose interest in Tuesday night bar hangs as the summer dragged on, before leaving for college in the fall.  My plan of impressing her by drinking SoCo and Limes while making restaurant jokes did not work probably because she was a HUMORLESS HEARTLESS WITCH!  Either way, I sulked my way through the fall, but I was plotting for ONE LAST DITCH EFFORT to woo Larry…when she returned home for winter break at the restaurant’s Holiday Party.

The owner’s of “Casa’s House” were/are/will-probably-always-be generous enough to throw their weirdo/borderline-alcoholic staff a really nice holiday party.  This year, they were taking us to a place called “Whirlyball” in Chicago: think bumper cars meets basketball meets lacrosse.  The activity itself is fun and they were also paying for an open bar.  That, my friends, is called DOUBLE FUN!  Plus, oh and this was my fave part, they invited Larry without me even asking them to.

So we got there and I figured that because I was a MANAGER! and 21 years old, that beginning the night with a Long-Island Iced Tea was a GREAT IDEA!  Nothing like carpet-bombing your nerves with 7 different liquors in a tall glass before trying to flirt with your crush (this NEVER backfires).  After a few rounds of whirlyball, where you get to drive a bumper car drunk while yelling at your teammates to “hit the net thing!”, Jimmy Good Times (‘member JGT?) was feeling LOOSE!  Larry was being flirty with me which was fun, and I was discovering that when the first Long Island goes down smooth, the next two go down EVEN SMOOTHER!

Feeling like French Toasty, the cool-kid group decided to go out front to smoke a cigarette because that’s what cool young adults do (consequences are for SUCKERS!)  While outside looking extra bad boy with cig in mouth, I decided that now was the time to THOROUGHLY IMPRESS Larry with a little something I like to call my brute strength and power.  And how else do you do that besides picking people up, throwing them over your shoulder and spinning around in the Whirlyball parking lot?  To borrow a phrase from my friend “Cash Out”, I’ve looked at it from all angles, and there was no other way to show off my strength.

The thing was, it was going well!  I picked up a couple guys and girls and everyone was laughing but also probably like “Damn, I didn’t know Jimmy was so powerful.”  Which was really amazing because I wore tight t-shirts all the time. HOW COULD THEY NOT KNOW?!?!  (What an unbelievable douchebag I was).  After picking up and spinning with just about everyone, it was the moment of truth: time to pick up Larry.  In my hazy memory, I think she was actually kinda excited.  Everyone else seemed to enjoy it and, while I was in meathead-mode, it’s not like I was FORCING people to take these rides on my shoulders.

Unfortunately, after throwing Larry over my shoulder and beginning the spin part of the ride, JGT was overwhelmed with the dizzies.  Could there have been worse timing? NO TIMES A MILLION TRILLION!  So I fell down.  Although, when I say fall, you know I mean “crashed into the cement wall of the building while kinda-tossing Larry into a parked car,” right?  *Cue the theme song from “Gladiator”–ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!?!

Aside from a bump on her head, Larry was fine.  I, on the other hand, needed to have another co-worker bandage my torn ear up while I laughed and profusely apologized and wanted to crawl into the sewer where people like Jimmy Meathead belong.  Larry assured me everything was okay and she was fine, but the image of a powerful, restaurant manager, I was going for had been shattered.

In an attempt to prove to everyone that I WAS FINE! EVERYTHING IS FINE! I went back into the Whirlyball bar and ordered tequila shots for myself, my good server friend and the owner of “Casa’s House”.  The owner was a big tequila guy, so what, was I NOT supposed to order shots for him and I?  That woulda’ been crazy.  So we took back to back tequila shots together because that’s what managers trying to impress owners do.  (You’re not a manager? Oh, then you just wouldn’t know.)  

Larry was back inside and laughing and I was making fun of myself and everyone was back to having a good time.  Then, as one does, I had to take a little break for a tinkle…And the next thing I know, I was eye-to-eye with the base of a toilet bowl:

Whirly

My good dear sweet friend Kyle took this picture and stayed with me as I inspected the base of the toilet with my eyes closed and drool coming out of my mouth (that’s how plumbers do it, guys.)  Eventually, I was taken out of Whirlyball by my friends like the dead guy in “Weekend At Bernie’s”.  *If you look close, you can see my bandaged up ear.  Isn’t that fun!?!?!

2 days later, the next time I saw Larry at work, I gave her a gift card I bought for a super expensive spa in the city and apologized profusely for maybe 48 straight minutes.  We never ended up dating.  The VP of Ops is so lucky.

OUR WORLD:

The NFL Draft is tonight and it’s one of my favorite days of the year.  Here are some quick Jimmy scouting reports on guys the Bears may take:

Roquan Smith:  Killer linebacker from Georgia who I know is good because I saw him play in 3 games and he made some big tackles.  Also, he was originally committed to go to UCLA, which means he’s basically a Bruin and we were basically classmates and so he’s going to be good.

Final Grade: I want.

Quenton Nelson:  Big fat guy who plays a boring position for a school that I HATE.  Was he good? Who cares.  All guards do is block and if you pay attention to blocking while watching football YOU ARE LYING THAT YOU DO THAT!  All the draft people say he’s “can’t miss”, but drafting a big ugly is the quickest way for your team to ruin the excitement of draft night.

Final Grade: I don’t want.

Minkah Fitzpatrick:  DB from Alabama so he’s probably good because Nick Saban only recruits studs and then is mean to them so they’re “well coached” by the time they reach the league.  I do keep hearing that he doesn’t really have a position, corner or safety, and since I don’t remember him when I watched Alabama last year; THAT’S A PROBLEM!  The Bears already have one Alabama safety.  That’s enough.

Final Grade: I don’t really want but I don’t totally not want.

Denzel Ward:  Fast, little corner from Ohio State.  I know nothing about him, but fast little corners sound fun!  I’ve heard draft experts describe him as “twitchy” like it’s a good thing.  Hope he doesn’t have tourettes and get in trouble for saying bad words in front of his coaches!

Final Grade: I kinda want.

Calvin Ridley:  Receiver who caught the game-winning touchdown in Alabama’s National Championship game.  This guy was talked about throughout the year as the best receiver in the country and I saw him play well in two games so…HE’S A STUD!  Also, receivers are fun to root for and we need a new young one to help us get past the sting of Kevin White flaming out (although…I haven’t totally given up on him…)

Final Grade: I want.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Endless highlights with this guy…

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When your team takes an offensive lineman in the first round and if the Bears do it tonight I’M GONNA BE FURIOUS!

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:

I went 3 for 5 last night because I threw in the Bruins on the moneyline too.  That’s a net positive, folks.  Tonight? Not gambling.  Too busy watching the NFL Draft.  Wait!  Can you gamble on the draft?  I’ll report back tomorrow.

(My account currently at $188.20)

K bye.

Wednesday Work Robots and Missing Immaturity (4/25/18)

OUR WORLD:

 

Wednesday is such a day for adults.  The midpoint of the weekday grind is the exact point where you don’t know where or who you really are anymore; you’re just the person who puts on the least wrinkled shirt in your closet and walks your dog before disappearing into a computer screen for 9 hours (9, not 8, because you’re a GOOD WORKER BEE!)  Throughout the day, some people will make hump day jokes because of that talking-camel commercial and you’ll kinda chuckle because the word “hump” is funny.  But, all you really want to do is not talk to ANYONE and just blackout until late Thursday afternoon when Friday’s rays of sunshine begin to poke through your office blinds.

This grind is such a mature mindset.  I remember coming out of college and trying to treat every night like Friday because “I like to have fun!”  The thought of basically transforming myself into a work-robot during the week was too sobering for Jimmy IT’S ALWAYS GOOD TIMES.  And while this maturing is good for the health of my brain and body, I’ll have instances where I daydream about getting to be immature again.  Don’t you?  Like, don’t you just want to take your shirt off in the middle of your office sometimes and run out while screaming “I’M FREE!!!”  You’re not gonna do it, but it’s funny to think about.  Thinking about EXPLOSIONS of immaturity is what gets me through some of life’s most mundane and scary situations/settings; and I think if you’re not partaking in this exercise as of yet, it might help you as well.  So today, I’d like to start a new Wednesday tradition on Jimmyschair and write about “places where you really want to act more immature than is socially acceptable”:

The Dentist Office:

You probably haven’t gone in over 3 years and it’s getting to the point where you’ve convinced yourself that “something real bad is happening.”  I went for the first time in like 5 years a couple months ago (not to brag) and was POSITIVE the dentist was going to take one look at me before calling a Priest to read me my last rights.  (Spoiler alert: I’m still alive and it wasn’t that bad).  But your imagination runs WILD to the point where you start contemplating “what if I just never went to the dentist again?  People in olden times didn’t go and they seem to be doing okay in most of the movies I’ve seen them in.”  That is until you throw a pile of almonds in your stink-trap of a mouth, bite down and feel like an a-bomb went off inside your back molar.  The “oh fuck, something’s really wrong in my mouth” is a top 1 worst feeling in life.

So you finally make an appointment, but you’re really hoping that an alien bomber plane will just blow up the world before you actually have to go.  But that never happens because you have bad luck, so you go to the dentist and have to be MATURE and pretend like you’re not that scared.  Wouldn’t it be great to be immature here?  Like, just walk into the dentist office crying.  Go up to the receptionist wildly shaking your head and weeping “I don’t wanna go! I don’t wanna go!”  Then when the dentist emerges with his scary surgical mask, you literally SCREAM BLOODY MURDER “GET AWAY FROM ME! NO! NO! HELP! MOM HELP!!!!”  The dentist would have to try to calm you down by speaking on a sweet voice and assuring you that “everything is gonna be okay.”  But you still wouldn’t totally believe him as you sat down in that murder-chair.

Then they’d turn the lamp on and ask you to open your mouth, but since you’re still in immature-mode you just refuse to.  The dentist’s assistant would kneel down next to you and maybe rub your shoulder a little to calm you down (wouldn’t that be nice as an adult?  Guess what, kids aren’t the only ones scared of the dentist!)  So then finally, after being talked to like a baby, you’d open your mouth a little and they could begin to clean your teeth.  It’s not bad at first, but then they start scraping and you LOSE IT again.  This time, it’s a full-on “get away from me!”-fit to the point that they have to konk you on the head with a mallet to continue the cleaning.  I don’t know about you, but if my dentist appointment included being knocked out cold by a mallet-to-the-dome, I’d consider that a win for the mere fact that I wouldn’t have to hear all the drilling noises.

MY WORLD:

I’m not gonna lie guys, I am supes biz at work (cute way of saying I’ve thought about crying on a semi-regular basis over the past few weeks).  So that’s my world right now: being super busy, feeling bad that my dog is alone for way too long during the day and trying to cool it with the “I worked hard today, so I deserve to binge on candy tonight.”

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Did you think I was kidding when I said I was about to go on a big Death Cab for Cutie kick?

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When “Chicago Fire” is filming two blocks away from your apartment building and, therefore, blocking off 2 streets worth of parking.  So when you get home at night, there is no parking left and you have to park like 9 blocks away on a street known for muggings.  I’ve never watched this show and, if you do, I’d ask that you please stop.  Thank you for your service.

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:

Cool thing happened to me last night, I forgot to bet on Milwaukee until midway through the first half.  Which means that I got them at (+11.5) and they covered!  San Antonio also covered, so I went 2 for 3 last night!  This parlay kid could use one hitting, but at least I’m not on some big smelly losing streak or something.  Got a bunch of games going tonight, and here’s what I’m thinking as of now:  Jazz, Wizards, Rockets, and Bucks all against the spread.  Will my thinking change between now and gametime?  Quite possibly.

(My account currently at $182.80)

K bye.

 

 

Being Single Stunk and Haircut Anarchy (4/24/18)

OUR WORLD:

The VP of Ops was out of town most of last week, got back on Sunday and left again this morning for the next 3 days.  I have officially left the “being alone is fun!” phase of her being gone, and entered the “well, who’s gonna listen to me bitch about my day?” phase of missing her.  Call me a romantic, but getting to whine about relatively benign daily happenings to someone who is GUARANTEED to agree with you is one of the main advantages of being married.  Actually, part of my vows alluded to this when I wrote: “I promise never to spare you a detail of the times when an older woman will inadvertently cut me off in traffic.  I promise to assign said woman some malicious motive that I fully expect you to agree with when I recount the story to you later that night.”  Guys, I’m like so kidding about having written vows–we’re not those kinda’ weirdos.  It’s called a joke!

Which is a long winded way of me saying that I do not miss being single.  For those who are good at it, congratulations; you won’t enjoy the rest of today’s “Our World”.  You live in a world that I am not a part of, if you’re good at being single.  For me, and I believe many of us, the world of being single sucks, and here are the parts that suck the most:

Feeling compelled to talk to strangers at bars:  Obviously, I can only speak to this from a guy’s perspective, but going to bars while single and hoping to meet a future LOVAH! is a terrifying prospect.  What happens is you stand around with your friends trying to not look like you’re scoping everyone out, but you are and it’s SUPER obvious when you keep missing the straw to your vodka soda (you are watching cals BIG TIME when single).  There will be the mega babes who are WAY out of your league, but you’ll spend about 9 minutes trying to come up with a snappy one-liner to level the playing field.  Something along the lines of “hey…uh…getting to date you would make my dad real proud of me.”  Unfortunately, Babe-a-tron 5000 doesn’t know how reluctant your dad is to offer praise, so that’s gonna be a swing and a miss.

What’ll happen most of the time, is that you’ll just stand around your dumb friends, not approaching ANYONE of the opposite sex.  Instead, opting to just get progressively drunker until somebody gets a text from a girl they know that is at another bar.  “She have friends?!?!?  HAS TO, RIGHT?!?” Is what you’ll be thinking, but you’ve gotta play it cool, so you’ll act like “sure, guess I’ll go with you.”  Then you’ll get to the next bar, realize that the girl does have friends, but those friends are not impressed with sarcasm OR outfits from Old Navy’s Spring, 2011 collection.  It’s okay, though, because by this time you’re drunk-STARVING and ready to eat your feelings away.  THEIR LOSS!

Having to explain to your grandparents why you’re not married with kids yet:  I swear to god, once you hit the age of 22, all grandparents expect you to be married with a kid on the way.  Old days were a wild time, during which, I guess everyone was married with 3 kids and a big house by the time they were able to rent a car?  That’s the way they friggin’ act at least.  Every family dinner when you’re single will include the “why are you still single?”-portion of the meal with your grandparents quizzing you on what exactly is going wrong.  It’ll usually be a potential critique wrapped in a compliment, like: “You’re a handsome, smart kid, you should have no problem finding someone.”  Unfortunately, when you’re single and, therefore insecure, that sounds more like: “The problem must be your personality.”  Seriously, how are you supposed to respond to that?  “Well thanks Grandpa, but I do have problems finding someone because I’m now out of college and approaching women in bars, or grocery stores, or gyms makes me so scared that I literally think about KILLING MYSELF!”  WARNING: Grandparents do not find humor in suicide jokes.

Playing the 3rd Wheel:  The main reason that playing the third wheel sucks is that you’re almost like the unpaid entertainment for the couple that night.  I always felt the need to go a little harder, be a little funnier, be a little extra-er when I was the third wheel.  Like, the couple had to be thinking: “if Jimmy bores us at any point in the night, we can just bail.”  Your couple friends will ALWAYS assure you that “you’re NOT the third wheel,” but…uh…you are because you’re the third person there and your pants are a little tighter than normal because you ate a big sandwich for lunch so you feel ROUND, LIKE A WHEEL!

Then will come the part of the night where you’ll kinda’ glance at someone across the bar and the couple you’re with will see this, and convince you that you NEED to approach this person.  Funny how everyone in a relationship IMMEDIATELY forgets how much of a no-go that proposition is when you’re single.  They’ll give you a “what’s the worst that could happen?” or “I think she just looked at you, too.”  They’re lying.  Trust me, they’re lying about this 100% of the time.  All they want is some free entertainment; getting to watch someone strike out with a potential mate IN PERSON is something I would pay to see.  In fact, there should be a viewing section at the biggest single bars in the city.  Wouldn’t you pay to go to one of these massive, DJ-booth, single meat markets, and sit in like in the security camera room?  They could have a charismatic storyteller, narrating the pick-up attempts going on throughout the club, and you could just watch it and be thankful that it’s no longer you as the star of this horror-show?  There really should be a channel called “Single People in a Club” which just shows security-cam footage of clubs around the country on Friday and Saturday nights.  I’d vote for someone like Hannibal Burress to narrate the scenes (I really wanted to say Louis C.K. for the narrator but…like…he can’t come back yet, huh?  We sure?  Okay. Okay!)

MY WORLD:

I know today is supposed to be the “A Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The VP of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable”, but since I’m not an ABSOLUTE monster with endless stories of me pissing off my wife, I’m going to write about the haircut I got on Sunday.  (Calm down!  Calm down!  YOU CAN’T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT!)  

As you know by now, I get my hair cut at a salon because I am a fancy boy who likes STYLE!  Or, mostly because I want to get my head massaged by a professional head massager person.  So I’ve been going to this hip place called “Fringe” for the past couple years where I may be the only male client.  (I’m sure this isn’t true, but anytime I’m in there, I’m the only guy there so…maybe it is true?  YOU DON’T KNOW!)  Now, I only get my haircut like 2 to 3 times a year because I’m lazy and try to convince myself that I can pull off long hair a couple times throughout the year.  Normally, around like month 3 post-haircut The VP of Ops will toss a “your hair!” my way one morning when I wake up with especially sexy bed head (sexy or, as The VP would put it “gross and not sexy in the least).  So I’ll wait another few weeks before the VPs jabs start to actually hurt and then, finally, make an appointment.

For the past 2-3 years I had been getting my haircut by this girl named Tori at Fringe.  She was good, not great, but whatever, I wasn’t that picky.  Until last time when Tori wasn’t available, but it being a hair-emergency, so I just went with whoever was available.  A woman named Leah was assigned to my mangy head, and lemme tell ya’, WE CONNECTED!  She gave a top-notch head massage while washing my hair (during which I made a joke about how close to purring I was that she took in stride and even gave me a courtesy laugh for!)  She then gave me a killer haircut and was just a DELIGHT to converse with.  Not too much talking, but enough that I didn’t feel drown in any awkward silences.  I left thinking about two words in regards to Tori: SHE GONE!

After wearing a hat for most of the past 2 months, I finally made a second appointment with Leah this past Sunday.  Unfortunately, I did not plan ahead and ask if Tori was going to be there.  So when I walked in to “Fringe” and Tori was sitting at the reception desk, I had to make a split-second decision.  “Hey!!! Our system is down, so I didn’t know you were coming in!” said an excited Tori.  To which I responded, “Yeah, my name is Jimmy and I’m here for a 12:30 with Leah.”  My split second decision was to act like I had no idea who Tori was.  I barely made eye contact with her as she responded: “Oh, okay…yeah, I didn’t know who you were with.”  It’s one of the coldest, meanest things I think I’ve ever done.

She went and got Leah, and a funny thing happened; I didn’t feel a thing.  I was expecting to be knocked over with a wave of guilt but, instead, I felt nothing.  It was exhilarating in the darkest of ways.  This must be what the Joker felt the first time he upset the established order.  As I passed Tori on my way to get my hair washed, I almost wanted to whisper in her ear “I’m an agent of chaos.”

Does this mean that Joker Jimmy is a newly discovered side of my personality worth exploring further? That the weird-astrology people were right when they take about Gemini’s having split personalities?  Quite possibly.  Tori’s heartbreak at not getting to cut a relative stranger’s hair (me) was a sacrifice necessary for me to find my inner darkness.  A darkness that could lead to me never settling on one hair-cutter person for fear of an awkward interaction.  A darkness that could lead me to finding the perfect hair-cutter person; one who would be able to give me the volume and shape necessary to hide my thinning crown.  A darkness that could put an end to me having to use a blow-dryer.  As Tori watched Leah cut my hair from afar, she must have felt the thing about chaos…fear.  And maybe that fear that she’s not good enough, will drive her to become a better hair-cutter person.  You’re welcome, Tori.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Me in the salon on Sunday…

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Anyone watch Ariana on “Vanderpump Rules” last night?  She got mad at Tom for leaving to hang out with Jax after the break-up because she wants Tom to “commit” to her being first in her life.  HOWEVER, she still refuses to even consider marrying Tom.  Get out Ariana, nobody likes you.

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:

Well, Russ Westbrook proved that I’m stupid.  That’s fun.  Thankfully, I did also bet on Houston last night, so it wasn’t a total wash.  For tonight, I like Miami (+10), the Milwaukee moneyline and San Antonio (+11.5).  10 and 11.5 are a lot of points for teams that play hard and have proud vets, and Milwaukee seems to have figured out how to beat Boston.  BANK OPEN?!?! YOU BETCHA!

(My account currently at $180.40)

K bye.

Be Happy You Don’t Have These Jobs! (4/23/18)

OUR WORLD:

Welcome to what is quickly becoming everyone’s favorite Monday tradition: the jimmyschair “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job list.

Animal Control Officer:  

You ever read those stories where someone comes home to discover an anaconda coming up through their toilet?  There is a person whose job it is to just “take care of that.”  What if that was your first call on a Monday morning?  Like you, Roberta AnimalControl got after it a little too much on Saturday night and is still trying to shake off the cobwebs 2 days later.  She picked up a fatty Dunkin’ Donuts sandwich in the drive-thru on the way to work because “fuck it, I’ll work out later this week” and she hurried to her desk by 9:01, but it’s okay because their boss was in the bathroom.  Roberta opens up her bacon, egg and chee like it’s a very-depressing Christmas morning and just as she’s about to take the first bite….RING!  “Hey Roberta, there’s a king cobra in a toilet at 934 Winchester Boulevard.  Caller says it’s hissing.”

And that’s just one horrible, but very real possibility for the start of an Animal Control Officer’s day.  Can you imagine the amount of sad stuff they see?  I don’t even want to write about it.  In fact, I won’t–Mondays are depressing enough that I don’t need to wade into the animal cruelty-waters.  Just know that it’s someone’s JOB to look at a dog fighting ring up-close and get the dogs out of there, but you know there are times when they got there too late and….JESUS CHRIST, STOP IT JIMMY!

In Chicago, the city started this program a few years ago where they released wild coyotes into the city to help with the rat problem.  THAT WAS NOT A JOKE.  Well now, even though there have been no reported coyote attacks on humans in the past 30 years (but what about the unreported attacks?  Hard to call 911 after a coyote bites you in the neck…) I’m sure Animal Control Chicago gets inundated with calls about coyotes.  I know I’ve seen a coyote from inside my apartment that was running away and was like 2 blocks down when I asked The VP “should I call Animal Control?”  It’s about safety!  So Animal Control people HAVE to go and check out these coyote calls now on a regular basis, and if you’re an office you’ve got to be thinking “we’re due for a coyote attack; is it going to be me?”  Chicago just isn’t going to go FOREVER without one of these coyotes mauling someone, so who’s most likely to break the streak? An animal control officer responding to a call from some nerd 2 blocks away.  And spare me any talk about “well, they’re trained for this stuff.”  You can’t train to protect yourself from a WILD ANIMAL ATTACK because they are WILD. ANIMALS.

Used Car Salesman:

I just think it would really suck to have to tell people that you’re a “used car salesman” when they ask what you do for a living.  It has such brutal connotations.  I work in sales, and even that isn’t my favorite thing to say, but when I’m trying to explain my job sometimes I’ll say “I mean, it’s not like I’m a used car salesman.”  It’s like if a mouse met another animal and had to be like “yeah, I’m a mouse, but it’s not like I’m a rat.”  And the thing with used car salesmen is they’re not ALL the awful stereotype (“god Jimmy, you’re so brave to speak truth to power”-Used Car Salesman Union Leader)

Whenever someone goes to buy a used car, they also think that they’re going to have to negotiate like it’s a hostage situation (“IF YOU INCLUDE THE HEATED SEATS, NO ONE WILL GET HURT!”)  Which means that every person a used car salesman meets at work is coming in with an edge; pre-disposed to NOT be friendly.  Well isn’t that fun!  I know there are used car salesmen who are kinda’ slimy and need to be pushed back on, but there have to ones who are also just like “yeah, I’m just here to pay my bills and get home.”  Like, there have to be ones that offer the customer their actual lowest price first…right?  Then they just have to sit there and keep telling the customer “I’m not lying, that really is the lowest we can offer you” as the customer gets madder and madder and SO FUCKING MAD, COME ON!!!!

Finally, how about when a used car salesman has to go to his girlfriend’s parents for the first time?  You KNOW the dad immediately HATES that his daughter is dating a used car salesman.  Even if that first dinner goes well, the Dad will probably say something to his wife like, “yeah, he was nice, but what does that even mean? He is a used car salesman.”  They’ll NEVER trust him because of that job title.  I’d imagine that most used car salesman are married to daughters of other used car salesman then.  If there’s a Farmers Only dating app, shouldn’t there be a Used Car Sales Only one too?

Personal Chef for a Celebrity and their Kids:

This is mostly on account of having to cook for rich kids.  I see on the boob tube (cool guy slang for television) that a lot of athletes and celebrities have their own personal chefs.  And while I enjoy cooking, I can’t imagine cooking a gourmet meal for a rich kid who UNDOUBTEDLY will not appreciate it the way they should.  Whenever I cook a meal that’s a little more complicated than “dump packet contents into hot water,” I basically stare daggers through The VP of Ops until she takes a bite.  And if the doesn’t take a bite within the first 14 seconds of me handing her, her plate? I may or may not (but definitely do) yell at her to “take a bite before it gets cold!”  She’ll usually take a bite and tell me it’s great, but sometimes she doesn’t do it in a convincing enough way, so I’ll be all pouty like “oh, sorry you don’t like it.”

Now, if that was a 9 year old who never heard the word “no”, you think they’d overwhelm the chef with gratitude?  A chef, mind you, who probably went through like 7 years of schooling only to then be hired by a violent French Master Chef whose preferred “teaching” method is burning his sous chefs with the creme brulee blowtorch.  After 4 years of dodging Chef Blowtorch and his outbursts, you’d open up your own restaurant in a part of town that was dying to be turned into the next hipster-ville…But, you and your restaurant came about two years too early and you end up closing your dream restaurant 18 months after opening.  To avoid bankruptcy, you call back that investor guy who told you he “had something for you.”  And, that “something” was a job cooking for some Jay Cutler Wannabe (aka an asshole athlete) and his shitty kids.

Next think you know, you’re spending 8 hours making pasta by hand for your most popular burrata lasagna.  The celeb kids are running around and yelling about why it’s taking so long and probably snacking on pop tarts.  When you’re finally finished, they look at it and say it looks “gross” and they’d prefer pizza.  And where are the parents? DOESN’T MATTER CUZ THEY DON’T CARE ANYWAY!  So you try to sneak the uneaten gourmet lasagna out to your car when you leave that night, but the cousin who lives there for free catches you and reminds you that the lasagna is now “property of this house”…so you have to turn around and put it back into the Cutler’s fridge, where it will sit uneaten until you throw it out in 4 days.

MY WORLD:

I can’t believe I haven’t done this yet, but I have to put together a candy list.  I went on a big candy kick this weekend that my pants DID NOT APPRECIATE this morning.  I’m including chocolate and sweet and salty.  Here’s the jimmyschair Top 10 Candy List.  Disagreements are discouraged…SO SAVE ‘EM!

10-Crunch Bar

9-Chocolate Covered Almonds

8-Twix

7-Kit Kat

6-Gummy Fruit Slices

5-Gummy Bears

4-Crispy M&Ms

3-York Peppermint Patties

2-Peanut M&Ms

1-Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups

*I will say the Top 3 rotate depending on mood and right now, Lil Jimmy loves some peanut butter and chocolate.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Make fun all you want, but Death Cab is my fave band and I feel myself gearing up for a BIG Death Cab kick starting with this….NOW!

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Getting your haircut for the first time in 5 months and having the hair washer lady mail in the scalp massage you’d been looking forward to.

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:

Let’s bang that OKC Moneyline (+175) together because we’re all friends and betting against an angry Russ Westbrook seems MUCHO STUPIDO!

(My account currently at $192.22)

K bye.