I’m Not Exercising, but It’s Not My Fault

*Quick disclaimer: Remember when I wrote about how I was shot in the head by the Chicago Bears starting kicker? That was like so so long ago that I can’t even remember it! Tehehehehe! I just want you to know that I’m okay. Unfortunately, due to doctor-patient legalese that I don’t want to bore you with, I can’t get into specifics like if I was actually shot in the head with a gun by Cody Parkey. Just know that I’m going to be okay and I WOULD get into it, but I don’t want to be tied up in court cases for the foreseeable future. Lawyers, amirite?!?!

OUR WORLD:

For most of you, now is the time of year you’re getting back into shape, looking in the mirror and saying things like “this year’s gonna be different”, getting more serious about your career, and showing off all the new clothes you got for Christmas. What a hopeful time! But then, there are people like…well, me. The kind of people who went to the gym yesterday, realized they forgot to pack gym shorts, and used that as a very very acceptable excuse to then go home without working out. Do you live 2 blocks from the gym too? Did you also then drink a beer while watching “The Bachelor” on DVR?!?! MY PEOPLE!

In an effort to help all of my fellow Chairmen out there (whoa, who wants to start a “Chairmen” fan club?!?!) I wanted to help you out with things you can watch and listen to while you’re at home and not at the gym but only because you forgot to pack your shorts. Don’t worry, we all know had you packed your shorts, you’d be pounding that treadmill like all those try-hards clogging your Facebook feed with their #NewYearNewMe selifes.

THE JIMMYSCHAIR “DAMN, I FORGOT TO PACK MY GYM SHORTS, AND I CAN’T WORKOUT IN WORK PANTS, SO I’M HEARTBROKEN TO BE FORCED TO JUST GO HOME AND DO THIS INSTEAD” LIST

WATCH THIS: “Bodyguard” (Netflix Show)

The first half of the first episode of this show is, quite possibly, the most exciting first half of an episode of television I have ever seen. Quite? You know what, I’m gonna upgrade that to ‘VERY quite’. Aside from looking to your significant other and saying things like “holy fucking butt!” you will find yourself wondering where the main dude is from. He has one of those “I know you”-faces and it’ll take a minute. Then your wife will look it up on IMDB, even though you ask her to “let me think about it,” and tell you that it’s the Game of Thrones guy! The one that….?! YEAH! THAT ONE!

I know how hard it is to get into a new show these days, with all of the options out there, but this one has an easy litmus test. If you watch the first 15 minutes and aren’t into it, then pull the ripcord because you’re A LOON WHO COULDN’T RECOGNIZE GREAT TELEVISION IF IT SHOT YOU IN THE HEAD LIKE CODY PARKEY SHO—(REDACTED BY JIMMY’S LEGAL TEAM)—and now people are feeling bad for him?!?!?! Sorry, I lost control for a second. Just watch the first 15 minutes of the first episode and judge for yourself.

Oh yeah, quickly, I would like to officially announce that I have flipped my long held belief that watching a show with subtitles STINKS. There’s an exception to that rule: if the main characters have thick accents, subtitles do not stink. In fact, they enhance the viewing experience because you’ll no longer have to rewind every 3.7 seconds when your wife goes “wait, what did he just say?” Trust me, aside from being able to know exactly what Andy Accent just said, you’re also going to avoid many “well maybe if you’d just pay attention and stop looking at your phone, you’d know what he said”-fights with your significant other.

What is the show actually about? Look it up on IMDB. It doesn’t matter, though, I’m telling you it’s good.

LISTEN TO THIS: “Bag Man” (Podcast)

If you’re looking to not think about sports because the kicker for your favorite team recently missed a kick, forcing your favorite team out of the playoffs before they were supposed to be out, and then ended up shooting yo–(REDACTED BY JIMMY’S LEGAL TEAM)–and you’re like, how do people still feel bad for this guy?!?! Then I am BEGGING you to listen to this podcast hosted by Rachel Maddow. Not a fan of Rachel Maddow? First off, that’s a red flag that you’re a red jag (I’m really proud of that line and am going to take a lap around the apartment to celebrate it) but, also, you don’t have to be a fan of hers to enjoy this. However you feel politically, there’s no argument that she has a nice voice. It’s soothing and smart without being too NPR-ish (why does everyone on NPR whisper-talk?!?!)

So you settle in with a smart, soothing voice to help you forget the third workout in a row you’ve missed because you forgot to pack those damn shorts again!!! From there, it’s an incredibly fascinating deep dive into the story surrounding Richard Nixon’s VP (not his wife), Spiro Agnew. Have you heard of this dude before? Oh…you have? Yeah, me too. Totally. Spiro? I thought you said ‘Steven’! Yeah, I know Spiro. It was confusing cuz I was all like “I definitely know a Spiro Agnew, but I don’t know a Steven Agnew.”

Anyway, as we all know, Spiro Agnew, was Nixon’s VP throughout his first term and up until right before the Watergate shit REALLY hit the fan. He ended up resigning because of…well, people weren’t really sure but it seemed like it was kinda related to some minor tax evasion issue. The real story of why he actually resigned was lost in the glut of history, and that’s what this podcast delves into. Why was Spiro Agnew the first VP to ever resign while in office? And, folks, it was not just because of some minor tax evasion charge. We’re talking conspiracy, “I can’t believe this happened in real life”-type shit. It’s intoxicating.

The VP and I listened to this entire series while driving down to Mississippi for Christmas and it made me love sitting in my car for hours on end. Since listening to this podcast, I have been obsessed with everything related to Watergate and Nixon. History repeats itself y’all, and I can’t wait to write a review 20 years from now about “Bag Man 2: Trump Did Bad Stuff!”

COOK THIS: Gorgonzola-Stuffed Steak Roll-Ups

Every year when The VP and I head down to her family’s in Mississippi, I cook a meal for everybody one night. It makes me feel like less of a piece of shit for eating all their food for a week, and The VP gets to offer to help me in front of her Mom (I decline this help because I don’t need help. Ever.) Last year I made Chicken Parmesan and spaghetti, but this year I wanted to step it up a notch; a last ditch effort to get everyone to be impressed with me despite my wardrobe.

So I looked up a fancy recipe and this one was the perfect combination of looking like it took a TON of skill and effort, while not actually taking that much skill or effort. BINGO! Here’s what you do:

–Get a flank steak that’s butterflied. If you get one that’s not butterflied already, GOOD LUCK PAL!

–Sprinkle kosher salt and ground black pepper all over the steak. The higher you hold your hand while sprinkling, the cooler you look.

–Across the middle, line the steak with gorgonzola cheese, fire-roasted chopped red peppers, and arugula. You’re going to roll this shit up, so don’t go nuts with how much of each you put in.

–Time to roll that steak over the cheese, peppers and arugula. This is kinda gross as you really have to manhandle the meat to do this properly, but that’s what badass professional chefs do. Word to the wise; once rolled, you’re going to need to tie this bad boy. Have 6-8 long pieces of kitchen twine cut before you start to roll the steak.

–Once rolled, tie it up with the kitchen twine. Think one tie every 1.5 inches along the length of the steak roll. Tie it especially at the ends of the steak. You’re trying to keep all the gooey cheesiness inside.

–Cut this steak roll into like 4 equal pieces. Make sure not to cut too close to the ties, so as not to undo all the cool badass chef stuff you’ve done already. You’re going to sear these.

–Once cut, get a cast iron skillet SCORCHING hot with olive oil. I’m talking the kind of hot that sets off the smoke alarm in your Ukrainian Village, one-bedroom apartment (just me?) You’re going to sear these steak pinwheels, cut-side down, for about 2 minutes each side. Once done. Pop the skillet with the steak pinwheels into the oven (350 degrees) for about 10 more minutes.

–Take out of the oven, cover with foil on a plate, and let rest for 5 minutes before cutting the twine and serving.

–Serve and act all nonchalant about what you just did.

MY WORLD:

With my head recovering from–(REDACTED BY JIMMY’S LEGAL TEAM)–I wanted to talk about something a little lighter today. And by lighter, I mean food that makes you heavier! I give you the Official 2019 Jimmyschair Fast Food Chain Restaurants Ranking (Pizza not allowed):

McDonald’s: Best chemicals in the game. I’m not debating this.
Chick Fil A: There’s no denying those biscuits. Also, the service is just delightful!
Newks: Southern sandwich/pizza chain. The Newks Q is all I want to eat when I’m visiting the VPs fam. Like, every meal. I’m not exaggerating that I suggest it for every meal.
In-N-Out: I was a hater for no good reason for way too long. The cheeseburger is so good, it doesn’t matter that the fries suck.
Potbelly: Chicken salad sandwich with bacon. FOGETTABOUDIT!
Starbucks: their sandwiches are tremendous. Also, don’t sleep on their chocolate chip cookies.
Taco Bell: Had it for the first time last year. What a revelation. The taco with the Dorito shell is a game-changer.
Kane’s Chicken: Best sauce in the entire universe.
Auntie Anne’s: Limited menu? Yes. But is there a better smell in the world than those pretzels?
Jimmy John’s: Their bread is incredible and has become my go-to sandwich spot when I’m hungover.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The VP and I watched “The Bachelor” last night and it was just okay, which is why I didn’t write a full-on review. This season is all about how the bachelor, Colton, is a virgin. It’s weird. There was a part that made me laugh really hard though, and so I recorded it. Chris Harrison, the host, was talking to Colton about how people have reacted to him being a virgin. As Colton went through some insults hurled his way, Chris Harrison forced his way in with a “that you’re not a man!” and it got me REAL GOOD. Enjoy.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you wake up with a crick in your neck and you have to do weird neck stretches all day that make you look like the bad guy from “Men In Black”.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I made a bet with a friend of mine that the Cody Parkey will not be on the Bears opening day roster next year. This means that he now has to root for the Bears to keep the person who just ruined the most fun season of the past 10 years. HAVE FUN WITH THAT PAL!

K bye.

My Christmas List

MY WORLD:

I remember as a kid how excited I would get around Christmas. As Thanksgiving would pass and all attention would turn to Christmas, my imagination would turn me into one greedy sonofabitch. It was like all I could see were things possible for me to get at Christmas, and the only thing holding back my expectations were…nothing. NOTHING HELD BACK MY EXPECTATIONS. Throw in the two week vacation from school, and all I had was time to dream up what items, my parents surely couldn’t afford, I should receive on Jesus’ bday. (Jimmy the Kid sounds like a bit off a pee-hole…)

Then! THEN! Whenever I was with my parents and around something that I may have wanted for Christmas, I would pretend that I didn’t want it because EVERYTHING had to be a surprise. Like, if I was around a pair of Jordans that I desperately wanted, and my Mom asked me “would you like those for Christmas?” I would just shrug because if I told her, it would ruin the surprise and make her work easier. I didn’t act like this when I was like 6 either, this lasted into my teens. In fact, when I was like 15, I was sure that my parents were getting me a car for Christmas because every 15 year old deserves to learn how to drive on a brand new car. In bed that night, I remember thinking anytime I’d hear a car pass by our house that it may be my new car pulling into the driveway. Mind you, I could see our driveway from my bedroom window, but I refused to look out and ruin the surprise. (So that’s why Jimmy’s parents got him a 1984 Ford Escort Hatchback and his Mom smashed into it with her suburban the first week he had it. EVERYTHING IS COMING TOGETHER!)

When I was a younger person, I would act like an absolute asshole about gifts and what I wanted around Christmas. Imagine going wine shopping with your snooty Aunt Rebecca, who has been on bike trips to Napa with her book club over 4 times (so, 5 times?) Whenever you pick up a bottle and ask if it’s good enough to be included in the wine dinner you’re throwing her, she would suck her lips in and mumble “I don’t know, up to you” in that way where it’s not really up to you, but more of a test to prove how stupid you are. So you just end up picking the second least expensive bottle of a few different styles because…I mean, that’s how you pick wine. You look at the cheapest and go “well, I’m better than that” so you pick up the second cheapest. At the dinner, Aunt Rebecca has a permanent snarl on her face and can’t stop from audibly whispering to anyone sitting around her, what a simpleton you are. That was me. (Time to go look in the mirror and ask yourself “do you like what you see here?” You shouldn’t.)

Therefore, in an effort to never be Aunt Rebecca again, here is what I actually want for Christmas (whoa! How big of Jimmy to just tell people what he wants! THIS IS GROWTH, PEOPLE!!!):

-I would like to not feel the need to have “one more beer” after I get home from being out with friends all night.

Is that beer ever enjoyable? Have you ever woken up and thought “god, I’m really happy I opened that expensive Double IPA and had 4 sips at 12:43 last night!” Few things cause more introspection than picking up three-quarters full Double IPAs the morning after a night out. It’s like finding charred cash just littered around your apartment.

-I would either like The VP of Ops’ birthday to be moved from December 23 to a date in February, or, I would like The VP of Ops to become one of those awesome “I legitimately don’t care about my birthday”-people.

Seriously, either one will do. I would be happy with either (how easy is new Jimmy to buy for?!?!) The stress that comes from being an adult around the holidays is exacerbated when your wife’s bday is 2 days before Christmas and she treats her birthday like the bar exam for how much you love her. She’s open about it too. She’ll say things like “my birthday is really important to me” and “Yes, I am seriously angry that you didn’t call me at 12:01 and wish me a happy 31st birthday.” The reason we have a dog is because I got in trouble for momentarily (MOMENTARILY!) forgetting it was her birthday a few years ago. The only way back into her good graces was to get her a dog…so now we have Belle.

-I would love my apartment building to install one of those electric chair things that I could sit in, press a button and it would take me up and down from my 3rd floor apartment.

You see the growth here? I’m not asking for an elevator or an escalator–those would be unreasonable! But those chairs mostly used for old people and sold through infomercials? No way my building couldn’t afford one of those. Now, I will say that I would also like there to be a rule where I’m the only person in the building that’s allowed to use it. While that may be selfish, that is what I want and asking DIRECTLY for what you want is part of being an adult. So, maybe that shows how mature I’ve become. (That’s a classic Jimmy-switcheroo right there). When we moved into this apartment, I remember thinking and probably saying “we’re young and walking up a few stairs never killed anyone.” A year-plus into carrying groceries up 3 floors of stairs makes me want to find the Jimmy of 15 months ago just so I could spit in his face.

-I would like to never receive paper mail again.

I cannot remember the last time I got something in the snail-mail (cool, funny term, Jimmy!) that was good. It’s either a bill, a “what is this? I’m not going to open it because I’m scared what’s inside”-thing, or a bill masquerading as an “invitation” to something that will take me away from my chair. I check my mail like once a week now because it now takes me a full week of saving up courage to open up and see what’s waiting for me in that checking-account-decimating little metal box.

-I would like someone to take Belle out for walks and bring her back when I’m not looking. Then, when I start getting ready to take her for a walk, The VP says “oh, she was already taken” and I can be surprised that I don’t have to do it every time.

There aren’t many better feelings than when The VP surprises me and says “I’ll take her out this time.” She does take her out sometimes, but it is normally me first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Dog walks in the winter are about as enjoyable as chewing on tinfoil. So, instead of asking for The VP to take Belle out on all walks, I would just like someone I never meet to sneak in and take Belle out and bring her back without me seeing. I’d feel guilty and like a sack of shit if The VP was the one taking her out everytime. BUT! If it was some person I never had to see or pay or thank, then I wouldn’t feel guilty. AND! The feeling I’d get from The VP telling me “oh, she was already taken out” would power me through the darkest, coldest winter nights. Is there a feeling better than grabbing the leash and going to put on your snow boots only to hear that you don’t have to? I THINK NOT!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I really like this band and I really like this song. It’s a little slow, but perfect for winter. Why? I don’t know, just feels wintery.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you make chili and see that people have frozen it before so you do that and then a week later you look in your freezer and your chili is covered in mold and you’re like “but, food network said…”

JIMMY GAMBLES:

Not good. Like really guys, not good at all.

(My account is currently at $0.00)

K bye.

No…Not….WINTER!!!

OUR WORLD:

Whoever came up with the term “Winter Wonderland” never lived full-time in a cold-weather city. (Did you look that up? So, you don’t know. Please don’t lie to your readers, Jimmy.) Winter in a cold-weather city is a nightmare filled lined with salt stains, dry skin and wet socks that is only mitigated by the fact that it becomes socially acceptable to eat more. For my Chicago brethren, this morning is the first time this year where I woke up cold, saw a bunch of bare tree branches and started tremble-crying that “it’s puffy coat time….” Then the VP woke up and asked why I was crying but I was just welling up, which is different than crying and she just doesn’t understand because her winter coat doesn’t make her look like a Michelin Man EVEN WHEN I’M DOING WELL WITH DIET AND EXERCISE! YEAH, I COULD BUY A DIFFERENT COAT, BUT I’D RATHER SAVE MY MONEY FOR ALCOHOL AND GAMBLING AND GOING OUT TO DINNERS!!!! No, none of this happened, but the point is that it could because the older I get, the worse I get at containing my emotions re: winter. Here are the top 3 worst things people in Chicago are dreading about winter:

Walking through slush while wearing your sporty no-show lil’ baby socks.

You wake up in early December and it snowed a little bit last night. Nothing crazy. In fact, when you look out your window you say something “oh, not that bad.” So you’re in that “this sucks, but it could suck harder”-winter-purgatory that feels almost like happiness. You get ready for your day and pack your gym bag. But when you get to the sock portion of ready-time, an option presents itself: do I wear my big, hot, winter socks AND pack my no-show lil’ baby socks for the gym? OR! Do I just wear my I-don’t-have-cankles-and-these-lil-socks-prove-it socks for the day so I get to the gym ready to go and I don’t add to my mounting laundry pile with another pair of socks? You go with one pair of socks because it’s “not that bad” out and if you’re forced to add 2 more socks to that laundry pile, it may tip over and bury you alive before your wife realizes that she hasn’t been asked “can I put sports on?” for over 18 minutes. Yeah, you just died in a pile of dirty clothes and now your wife is going to jail because how could she not know?

So you put your no-show socks on slide into those cool boots that your Mom got you last Christmas. It’s not that bad, you’re fine. By the time you hit the bottom of the stairs on your way out, you’ve totally forgotten that whole excruciating sock decision you just had to make. The podcast you’re going to listen to is queued up on your phone for the drive to work, and you’re damn near excited to hear if Bill Simmons will ask Jonah Hill the deal with his weight fluctuations. You toss your gym bag in the passenger seat and…fuck. Right as you step off the curb, your foot is wet. The snow didn’t look that bad because it melted, and your body weight caused a splash when it landed on the street. Tiny-brain you didn’t tie your boots that tight so the splash fell inside your boot and found its resting place all over your tiny-sock-covered foot. Cool. Now you’re Wally Wetfoot and you better tie that boot tight because you know the thing about wet feet? They STINK. Good luck trying to hide that stank foot in an office surrounded by people who don’t have a villainous pile of laundry forcing them into bad decisions.

Bundling up before taking your dog out and catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror by your door.

You’re lying if you tell me there’s not one second every winter, while getting yourself and your dog ready to go outside, that you don’t remember when you didn’t have a dog and think “that was a happier time.” Don’t even try to tell me that when it’s negative 9 and you hear the wind howling, you’re not mean-squinting at your dog hoping he’ll be like “you know what, I can hold it.” But whatever, dogs rule so you when you’re done putting their booties on to protect from the salt, you bundle up like you may get locked out and have to sleep in the snow. Puffy coat, itchy scarf, old Bears hat, and the camouflage gloves you bought with your brothers at a gas station in Michigan. Originally, you bought those gloves as a joke, but now they’re just your gloves and your wife can’t believe that she picked you.

When you’re done tucking your loose sweatpants into your boots, you grab the leash and march towards the tundra. Unfortunately, your wife likes hanging mirrors near doors. At first you thought it was just coincidence, but now you’re wondering if these mirror placements were part of a more sinister plan to prey on your insecurities. Said mirror grabs the corner of your eye and you take a quick glance to see how you lo—JESUS, I’M UGLY! Aside from the winter fat suit, the parts of your face that you can see are white pale mixed with little dry patches (thanks freezing wind!). Moisturizing is a way of life that you must commit to, and it’s never been more obvious. Like being hit with a wave from the ocean, you’re forced to go through every part of your last 6 meals. When was the last time you went to the gym? Yeah, you went, but did you even try that hard? Or did you just go to say you went? And, shit, you’ve been digging those dark beers lately. And the outfit? You’re not better than the Jordan Brand Cincinnati sweatpants you bought in High School? You’re really not better than that?

“I’m better than this,” you say to your wife as you head out. She smiles. You’re gonna change.

Once you’re outside, she calls her Mom. “I’m coming home.”

Going to a Mexican restaurant and ordering a margarita to play pretend summertime only to come crashing back to reality the second you look out the window and see the look of pure terror on the driver that has lost control of their car while skidding on the ice.

Once late-January hits, you’re about to snap. Two-plus months of frigid temperatures and short days have taken their toll, so you excitedly make a plan to go to a Mexican restaurant for a little “Let’s pretend it’s hot outside!”-meal. It’s different than the norm and your spouse is like “he’s full of surprises!” You’re proud of your ingenuity. It’s cute, guys. So cute. You know what’ll make it even cuter? Toss a hawaiian shirt and sunglasses on! Can you say “Summer in January”?!?!?!

At the restaurant, the servers are kinda’ annoyed with how cute of a couple they’re waiting on, which makes you even more proud of your SAH KEWT plan. You order drinks and not just drinks; we’re talking margaritas with extra salt baby. Nothing spells summer like salt, tequila and limey sugary shit! While you wait for Señor AnnoyedWithYourCuteness to get your drinks, it’s time to start reminiscing about awesome summer stories. Remember that time you went on the boat and jammed out to pre-nutso Kanye jams? Oh oh oh, how ’bout the time you had a picnic at the beach and made fun of the uncoordinated volleyball player ruining it for the rest of his team?!?! And, guys, ‘member the time you grilled those burgs and made everyone address you as General Grillmaster for the rest of the night? You’re laughing. Reminiscing. Dreaming, perhaps. The margaritas arrive and it looks like each crystal of salt was placed by hand around the rim of your glass. You do a cheers but don’t actually touch glasses because you want ALL the salt. Then you hear a screech.

Your eyes dart to the window and see that the snow has picked up and a 1993 Dodge Neon is skidding past the stop sign right outside. It’s not an emergency, but you lock eyes with the driver and share the “shit, there’s nothing you can do”-look. The Neon hits the curb and is fine; it’s a piece of shit anyway, so another dent on the bumper will blend. But it snapped you out of your summer fantasy. Your spouse knows it too. Now it’s a waiting game to see who’s going to ask the question you’re both thinking first…”You know we still have like 3 months of this shit?”

YEAH, I KNOW!

MY WORLD:

When I’m not writing this blog in the morning, I’m trying to work on a script and it’s really difficult guys! In film school, I was only able to write shitty scripts AND I COULD WORK ON THOSE ALL DAY, EVERYDAY. Now, I’m writing before work and…oooooo momma, I’m having trouble. Turns out that coming up with a totally original movie idea is not something you can do just because you…uh…want to do it. The first “assignment” I have due with my writing comrade is due tomorrow and I’m about 20% of the way done with it, so yeah, I’m stressed.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Realizing that the reason political ads are the way they are, is because THEY WORK.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Saw her perform on SNL and, ladies and gentlemen, we have a NEW CRUSH ALERT!!!!

JIMMY GAMBLES:

As you know, I had been on an epic losing streak. We’re talking the kind that you would tell your grandchildren about when they ask why you live in such a shitty part of town 45 years from now. Then, Sunday happened. Guys…I hit a 4-team parlay and it felt like I, personally, defeated ISIS and saved humanity from their reign of terror. The VP did not share my level of excitement, but she did hit me with a semi-genuine “oh, yay!” So that was nice. Did I squander some of my winnings by then betting on the Packers moneyline because my friend is a Packers fan and I’m a great great great friend? Yes, I did, but I also cemented my status as a “great great great friend” in the process. So, as far as I can tell, that’s pretty much breaking even. I told a few people yesterday to bet on the Titans moneyline and then forgot to place that bet myself, so…that was fucking annoying. Probably gonna take tonight off to watch voting results while praying the Republicans takes that much deserved L.

(My account is currently at $100.72)

K bye.

The 4th of July Stinks and My Dog is Making Me Feel Fat (7/3/18)

OUR WORLD:

One of the best things about this big, smelly country is a little thang called “freedom of speech,” mmmkay? So check me out exercising this freedom when I say the following: the 4th of July stinks. STINKS, FOLKS! (Dear ICE, you know that Jimmyschair guy? Can you chop his head off please?…Why not?) A day during the hottest month of the year that we HAVE to spend outside in front of grills that are making the cheapest of grilled meats all leading up to sitting in long grass and getting mauled by Zika-ridden Mosquitoes to watch 8 minutes of fireworks. Oh, and the best part? It’s on a Wednesday this year, so you have the option of blowing a vacation day on Thursday or showing up to work in your best hangover disguise, holstered with the “my allergies are horrible!”-excuse as you try to stop dry-heaving in front of your boss. You know why people call this holiday simply “the 4th”? Because it’s the 4th best summer holiday (That’s not true, Jimmy. SHUT UP MOM!) Give me Memorial Day, Labor Day, and MY FRIGGIN’ BIRTHDAY AKA FLAG DAY, a trillion times out of a trillion over “the 4th”. (Point Jimmyschair.)

Now, does the 4th stink compared to a typical day? Do I look like a stupid idiot? Of course it’s great compared to your typical July workday. We’re talking compared to other holidays here, try to keep up JERKS! (I didn’t mean that and feel bad about lashing out). Lets go through why, compared to other holidays, the 4th STINKS:

Fireworks are overrated: I can’t believe this is that hot of a take, but I’ve never been a big fireworks guy. Even as a kid, I remember wondering when the whole “show” would end so I could go back home and play video games. Before television, I’m sure I would’ve thought fireworks were cool, but now I’m supposed to bypass getting to watch 2-3 episodes of “Southern Charm” (The VP and I have been binging this and DADDY LIKEY!) Colorful explosions in the sky < Did Craig take the bar yet? (TeamCraig stand up!) Even if you’re not in the midst of a “Southern Charm” binge, please do not even try to tell me that watching fireworks is preferable to watching a TV show of your choice while on a recliner in an air conditioned room. Firework shows last 18 minutes tops? And how long did it take you to get to your friends backyard or rooftop or local…uh…field? Probably AT LEAST 20 minutes each way, but it’s not like you can just show up for the fireworks and toss up deuces (PEACE!) the second after the finale. NO WAY JOSE! You’re getting there early, bringing some mayo “salad” and you’re staying after for at least one “I’m too tired to drink this and then drive home”-beer.

*Quick breather: I’m aware I sound like the ultimate Debbie Downer. To play my own Devil’s Advocate for a second, it is ALWAYS fun to hang out with your best friends and get drunk. However, with the 4th landing on a school night this year, this will be like the first NFL Sunday of the year where you get drunk with your friends and then silently freak out at night about how hungover you’re going to be at work the next day. Whenever you’re playing the “I’m going to be hungover at work tomorrow”-game, you’re playing with fire and DEFINITELY worrying about it every time you open a new beer.

BACK TO HATE-CITY! I touched on this last week, but when you live in a big city, for the week leading up to and the week after the 4th, there are CONSTANT random fireworks going off throughout the night. When you live with a wife who has been mugged and a dog who gets stressed at the sound of a sneeze, these sounds are not exactly comforting. I took Numba One Pretty Gurrrrllll Belle out for a walk last night and felt like I was an extra on the set of “Saving Private Ryan 2: Escape from Chicago”. This is why when I’m never sad when I hear stories about people blowing off their fingers setting off fireworks. THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR SCARING ME AND MY PRETTY PRINCESS BABY BELLE!!!

It’s too hot to be in front of a grill or hanging outside all day: The 4th is the number one day for making people feel guilty for wanting to stay inside. As someone extremely sensitive to guilt-trips (are you mad at me?) this is my nightmare. Why do we have to feel guilty for not wanting to spend the entire day in stifling heat and humidity? Hard to get a beer buzz when you’re sweating through your friggin’ eyeballs! If you told your friends or spouse, that you were planning to spend the 4th under a blanket in your air-conditioned coldbox of an apartment watching reality television all day, you’d immediately be slapped with the “it’s too nice to spend the day inside”-guilt trip. Fuck. That. I’m all for spending nice days outside, but the majority of my Independence Day memories include sticking to my chair and slapping at the mosquitoes treating my legs the way I treat corn on the cob. (Not coming up for air until that corncob is raw!)

How many times can I get excited about hot dogs and hamburgers? I like grilling as much as the next Joe Blow (I don’t even know ONE Joe Blow, Jimmy!) but how many times can I get excited about cheap meats that are, most likely, poorly cooked by a half-drunk “grill master”? If you’re blessed enough to go to a spot that’s cooking up steaks or fancy chicken then you win; but most of us are stuck with Uncle Larry and his technique of smashing burgers on the grate until they’re hockey puck tough. “Have you seen my ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron, guys?” Is this dinner or a hack-job comedy routine where everyone pretends their dinner doesn’t SUCK?!?! (Can you drown in ketchup?)

*Related, I can’t wait to buy a “Kiss the Cook” apron. I plan to wear it every single night of the year just to make that joke to The VP so many times that she goes into therapy. “The thing is, I don’t want to kiss the cook. Matta’ o fack, I’ve developed a deep seeded hatred for the cook and his stupid fucking apron!”

Having to be around people who don’t work the next day when you do: Every year there’s the group of your friends at the party who love reminding everyone that they don’t work the next day. You’ll say stuff like “wow, I’m jealous” and then play it off like it’s not that big of a deal. In reality, though, you want to go to the bathroom and cry while looking at yourself in the mirror. (My life isn’t as good as their life!) The impromptu “whose job has the most relaxed vacation day policy?”-competition is never fun for the losers. So you’re left either sipping on a lukewarm Coors Light while your besties get blackout without a care in the world, or you throw caution to the wind and sign up to be MISERABLE at your desk the next morning. What an option! I love watching the person who does work the next day get progressively drunker and sadder as the night goes on. The whole “I’m going to get drunk and not even think about the consequences” act is impossible after the age of 30. It’s a game of chicken that, even after 30 beers, you know you’re losing. (This person is usually me btw).

Can’t wait.

MY WORLD:

My dog Belle got a real short haircut on Sunday because she had mats and it’s super hot outside for a big FLOOF dog. She looks so much thinner! I was calling her “Chubba Bubba” before this cut, but now she looks like the Nicole Kidman of dogs so I’ve re-nicknamed her “Nicole Belleman” (not my best, but The VP chuckled). Anyway, this haircut and the effect it has had on her looks has got me thinking…do I need to get a buzzcut? It feels like Belle has a newfound skinny-dog confidence, and is kinda’ judging ME for not being as skinny as her. I think that she thinks that she’s better than me!

I’m currently mired in the phase of hair-length where I wear a hat every single day because I’m too lazy to properly style it in the morning. And maybe this length/lack of styling is making me appear fatter than I am? (That’s what I’m going to tell myself, at least. The fact that all my shorts feel outrageously tight MUST be tied to my hair and not my recent diet of cookies and craft beer!) Like, I’d love to show up with a new haircut and have people think “wow! I had no idea Jimmy was that skinny!” That could happen! It happened for Belle! In High School I got a buzz cut and looked a little nazi-ish, but that was like forever ago which means it wouldn’t be the same, right? If I do get a buzzcut I would have to worry about my hair growing back AND if it would highlight me getting thin on top. Plus, if I get a buzzcut, I can’t cover it up with a hat because bald guys with hats make EVERYONE uncomfortable. (Seriously, I’d feel more comfortable next to a drooling tiger than a bald guy with a big loose hat sitting on his dumb head.) As you can tell, I’m in a real pickle here folks. I want to shock people with how thin I can suddenly appear, but do I risk being the Nazi-lookin’ bald guy who’s making everyone uncomfortable with his ill-fitting hat? You’re never in a good place body-image-wise when you’re jealous of how skinny your dog looks.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Bet you didn’t think I’d like this song…

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Getting into your car when it’s super hot outside and feeling the life get sucked out of you while waiting for your AC to actually get cold. It’s a race against time that I’m convinced will be the death of me.

GAMBLING UPDATES ARE STILL ON HOLD. I AM CURRENTLY WORKING ON A STRATEGY THAT WILL ALLOW ME TO NEVER LOSE AND ONLY WIN BETS. BLUEPRINTS, REPORTS AND STACKS OF PROPOSALS ARE INVOLVED…

K bye.