I Don’t Know How to Do Many Simple Things (8/21/18)

MY WORLD:

A few days ago, I got out of the shower, grabbed the towel hanging on the towel hangy thing (hook!) and brought it to my nose. The classic “as long as this towel doesn’t smell like dinosaur B.O., it’s clean”-check. I know what you’re thinking, “but Jimmy, did you also look at the towel to see if there were any obvious stains?” Do I look like an animal? Of course I did. So that means it’s clean, right? As long as there are no obvious stains and it doesn’t stink, a towel is clean no matter how many consecutive days you have used said towel.

When I was a kid, I used to marvel at how my parents just knew stuff. They knew how to get to the mall. They knew how to check my toothbrush to see if I had actually brushed my teeth. They knew how to make sandwiches! THEY KNEW EVERYTHING! And while they passed on enough survival skills for me to make it 33 years, they did not pass on some skills that seem relatively meaningless, but have become gaping holes in my progress as an adult. Oh, and when I say “they did not pass on,” I mean “I pretended to listen when they taught me about _______.” Aside from not knowing how to tell if a towel is dirty or not, here are some other adult-things that I should know, but definitely do not…and probably never will.

How to hang a picture:

It was much easier to hide this deficiency when I was living alone or with roommates. There’s always one roommate with a fancy toolbox who can’t wait to show off the ruler-thing with the water bubble in the middle. (Yes, I know it’s called a leveler, but ruler-thing with water bubble in the middle just felt right.) Whenever we’d move in and got to the point where it was time to hang all our “sweet sports posters” around the apartment, I’d pretend that I was busy doing something else until THAT roommate broke out the power drill and started asking “how’s this look here?” Whenever I’d hear that question, my body would finally relax, for my secret was safe another day. “Looks great! I’ll start putting away the silverware!” Little did they know that the silverware was already jammed into a drawer that I could no longer open. No matter, Jimmy NoHang was out of the line of fire.

When I lived alone, and there was no one to inspect or judge what I did to the wall, I would only hang stuff with wires in the back. My process? Nail in the wall, wire on the nail. BOOM! JIMMY HANGS IS IN THE BUILDING! Did I find the stud? Pretty hard to find the stud when you have no idea what that is so…uh…no, I did not find El Stud. An anchor? Those are only for boats! Was the frame level? Take five steps back, squint and you tell me if it looks “pretty level.” Better yet, let me save you those five steps, it’s fine. Was it centered? Did you not just hear me re: the picture being level? I TOOK FIVE STEPS BACK, LOOKED AT IT AND SAID “IT’S PRETTY GOOD.” WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!?!?

Unfortunately, using the caveman method of hanging stuff on walls (nail, slam, hang!) is a secret not meant to see the light of an apartment shared with a significant other. The friggin’ VP of Ops sniffed out this deficiency of mine the way a dog smells another dog on your jeans. When we first moved in together she handed me a super heavy mirror to “just hang over the dresser.” You got it babe! That mirror rested on top of our dresser for the 2 years we were in that apartment and was the subject of multiple “wait! don’t hit the mirror!”-warnings. Mirrors that lean against a wall, instead of being hung on a wall, were very in at the time.

Since then, we have moved to a new place where I actually DID hang said mirror on the wall…by putting a wire on the back of it and slamming multiple nails into a wall. Quick tip on nails and walls: if you hit the nail with a hammer and it doesn’t go any further, just hit the nail harder. If the nail still doesn’t budge, then take it out and move it a little to the side and try the exact same process. The mirror now hides about 8 false starts for me and the nails, but it’s up! And no, I am not worry-free when I sit directly in front of it. Have you ever played the “I hope this big, heavy mirror doesn’t fall on me!”game? It’s a rush!

mirror

How to know when it’s time for a new razor:

When I used the Gillette Mach Whatever that had the moisturizer strip on the top, I would know I needed a new razor when that strip went bare. But then, I grew up and realized that, that dumb fuckin’ strip was probably just a devious ploy by evil Johnny Gillette to sell more razors. Not so fast! I can use this razor until…shit…when?

My dad used to use the disposable razors when I was a kid, which made the whole process easy: use it, toss it. But I saw commercials about the Mach 3 that looked really cool and my friends were using it so, what? I’m supposed to be the lame kid who uses the cheap bic razors? NOT ON MY WATCH! And it’s not like I’m Beardy McThickBeard ova’ here, so I can probably get away with using the same Gillette for….shit….I still have no idea. Worse yet, the Gillette’s are kinda’ expensive AND the razor refills are locked behind glass at most stores. This is me every time I’m in a store looking at the razors behind the glass, “I’ve gotta go ALL THE WAY up to the front and ask someone to come unlock these? Meh, I’m sure I’ll be fine for another week.” I do that for like a hundred weeks in a row.

The breaking point usually comes that once or twice a year when I pump myself up about finally, truly becoming a cool adult man. It’s usually the same time of the year where I’ll go to a decent store, buy 8 of the same shirts in different colors and a new pair of pants because “this is what real men do.” On the way home from the outlet mall (leave that part out!) I’ll pass a Walgreens and be like “you know what? I’m going to buy a nice razor because that’s what real men do.” Yeah! I want the best a man can get! Then, as I wait for Angry Paulette to come and unlock the razor treasure chest on aisle 4, I’ll stare at my phone and start to panic as I type in the password for my Chase Mobile Account. By the time Angry Paulette arrives with the tiny key, I 100% do not want to spend $17.99 on this razor anymore, but she’s already here and it would be weird if I didn’t after putting her through the enormous trouble of walking from aisle 4 to the register and back. So, I smile through all her huffing and puffing as I follow her back to the register with my overpriced Gillette while going over how long I can go without paying my cable bill before they shut it off. It’s cool guys, you’ve got a whole ‘nother month.

How to change a tire:

Tough day for my masculinity on today’s chair, but these are deeply held secrets that must be brought out into the open because I couldn’t think of anything else to write about today! The fact that I don’t know how to change a tire is something I really really really did not want to write about because I’m positive that it will lead to me blowing out a tire in the very near future. It’s called jinxing yourself, and if you don’t believe in that stuff then I’m jealous of your rational thought patterns.

This is an instance where my dad definitely taught me how to change a tire multiple times, but I just pretended like I was listening every time and never actually learned how to do it. The advent of internet phones has soothed my fears of this deficiency since I can just google “how to change my tire,” if it happens, but still. If The VP and I are driving to Mississippi and I blow out a tire in the middle of “who the fuck lives in a place without cell service”-Arkansas we are officially screwed.

What would probably happen is I would pretend to be calm about the whole situation while leafing through the car manual held in my glove compartment. When I’d get to the part about putting the car up on the jack though, my insecurities would get the best of me and I would convince The VP that “shit, I’m missing a tool.” I’d act all mad about not being able to do it myself, but like “whoever put this tool kit together just forgot the…” I’d have to quickly come up with something that sounds like the name of the tool I’m missing. Okay okay, “whoever put this tool kit together just left out the tire iron.” THAT’S DEFINITELY A THING THAT SOUNDS NECESSARY!!! The VP would buy my book of lies and then we’d either have to wait for a not-scary older man to stop and help OR until the town put up a cell tower so I could google “how to find a not-scary older man who can come out here and change my tire for me, but tell my wife that the reason I couldn’t do it was because I was missing a tire iron.”

OUR WORLD:

The VMAs were on last night and The VP and I had absolutely zero interest in watching it. Instead, she went through Instagram and showed me pictures of the artists that were winning awards and we played the “oh my god, we’re so old!”-game. From afar, I hate this game, when people over 30 but under 45 laugh to each other about how old they feel because they can’t play video games all day or know the top-rated show on MTV anymore. Hey, lets chat about something super mundane that I did and then laugh because I followed it with a “oh my god, I’m so old” punchline! HAHAHAHAHA! Pass the barf bag.

But when you’re alone in your apartment, and feeling older than you’ve ever felt because that’s the truth, you kinda…laugh to yourself about how old you are. And guess what I am right now? I’m alone in my apartment. DAMNIT! Let’s go through the Top 10 list of things that make people over 30 feel old even though we’re not and it’s actually kinda’ obnoxious when we say stuff like this:

When we suffer a relatively minor injury.
When we are hungover.
When we scroll through Instagram and mention how many pictures of babies are in our feeds.
When we cook at home.
When we choose to stay in on a Friday night and text apologies to our friends because “we’re so lame lol”
When we talk about buying a Costco. membership.
When we go to any college sporting event at any college.
When we tell everyone with ears how busy we are at work.
When we find the one gray hair on our heads and then proudly talk about how you’re not going to pull it out.
When we get up early.

I hate this shit.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

From time to time, I’ll go on kicks where I get super back into 90s bands. Currently, I’m in a anything-Chris-Cornell sings on phase. Enjoy the best rock voice of all-time.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you eat leftovers in the morning and then lunchtime hits and you’re like “well, am I allowed to even eat lunch after smashing through that whole plate of leftovers at 9:07 this morning?” So you just get a small bag of almonds and look forward to dinner.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I bet on preseason football over the weekend and went 1 for 2. Overall, I lost $7 this weekend but that’s because of baseball. By the way, FUCK BETTING ON BASEBALL! I mean, I’m still gonna do it, but I’ve decided I hate it. HATE.

(My account currently sits at $43.18)

K bye.

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

MY WORLD:

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

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

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

1) I work out.

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

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

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

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

6) I think Robert DeNiro is awesome.

7) I have a jawline.

8) I own a dog who loves me.

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

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

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

LET’S GET TO A FUN LIST NOW!

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

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

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

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

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

Interpol “Rest My Chemistry” I miss this band.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

K bye

In Defense of Me and 90s Kid Stuff

MY WORLD:

Aside from treating my body like a dumpster, talking to Belle about how she’s the “numba one pretty gurrrlll” and sleeping in my clothes, there’s one final pastime I take part in whenever The VP of Ops leaves town; getting paranoid about what she’s saying about me to other people. You see, there’s this thing that some people take part in, where when they’re away from their significant other they complain about his/her faults and idiosyncrasies to their friends. Mind you, this is something that I have only HEARD ABOUT, for my friends and I keep our conversations strictly about sports, chicken wings and who our current man-crush is because IT’S A SAFE SPACE AND WE’RE PROGRESSIVE! (Chris Hemsworth and Eddie Vedder forever btw).

However, I am aware that The VP of Ops has sheep-like tendencies when surrounded by her poor influences of friends. While they’re complaining about the ragamuffins they’re with, in an effort to fit in and not be the “yo mans ain’t got it like my mans got it”-girl, she probably folds and joins the complain party. Knowing this, I would like to put forth some explanations and defenses for what she MAY be saying about me to her friends.

“He’s really moody”—First off, who isn’t? Right? I mean, I’m sure there are co-workers of yours that you think are super even keel, but they have to be kinda’ bitchy sometimes at home later…right? RIGHT?!?!? Uh, and you think The VP of Ops ISN’T moody? THINK AGAIN BUB! Last time I checked, yelling “I’m going to murder you” at your husband, just because he’s playing the “I’m not touching you”-game, is called a MOOD. Your honor, I would like to employ the “well, she is too”-defense.

Real talk, this cuts deep because I am POSITIVE that it’s true. For some reason, being “moody” has worse connotations than being a serial killer in my brain. (He’s moody?!?! Ugh, I don’t have time to deal with that! Yeah, my husband killed 4 people, but they were like SOOOOO annoying). Sometimes, I’ll catch myself mid-“if you don’t stop humming to yourself I’m going to blow my brains out” and immediately toss an apology the VPs way. The apology, though, normally sounds something like “I’m mad right now and I don’t know why and it’s not your fault so I’m…(through grit teeth)…so I’m sorry or whatever.” And if she brings up how I was moody the next day or another time when I’m in a GOOD mood? It’ll immediately piss me off and I’ll kinda’ deny it and will try my best to act not-mad…but, I’m fuckin’ mad about it. CAN’T THIS JUST BE OUR LITTLE SECRET? Oh, and to the girlfriend who I’m sure will mention something about me being a Gemini, just shove it. Astrology is for the birds, everyone knows this.

“He ALWAYS watches sports”—Well maybe if you had money riding on whether Mariska Whateverthefuckitay was going to catch the rapist in this episode of “Law & Order SVU”, I would support us watching that together. Gah fuhbid you join the team and root against Anthony Davis making the Blazers look like ABSOLUTE dog meat when I have the Blazers in my 8-team parlay. And also, if I watch sports all the time, how am I able to write such eloquent, insightful critiques of “Vanderpump Rules” and “Summer House”? Answer the question, please. I’ll wait…

This is the time when The VP of Ops will, most likely, bring up the fact that I have yet too hook up the second cable box in our bedroom. Did we move in last August? Yes, but there are a lot of wires and, like, I JUST DON’T WANNA! PLUS! PLUS! All she wants to watch is “Law & Order SVU” and that’s on netflix, so she can just watch it on our Apple TV in the bedroom. I would like to point out that I have mostly given up watching weekend pre-game shows (which are like catnip for guys ESPECIALLY during football season) so that we can watch that stupid fake pioneer woman cook some unhealthy bullshit for her “Cowboy Kids” on Food Network. (We did just find out that Pioneer Woman married into like one of the richest families in the country. When your family is worth in excess of $500 million-not kidding-it kinda’ puts a damper on the whole “just cookin’ for some farm boys” motif they’re going for. Just my 2 cents!) Are you going to bring that up to the girl crew? Do their guys ask what time Vanderpump Rules is on every Monday? Do their guys pause “Relation-shep” in the middle of the show just to talk to you about charismatic and likable Shep is? Didn’t think so.

“He’s bossy”—This one is similar to the “he’s moody” one in that it hurts, but the difference here is that I’m not bossy. I’m really not. This is not me trying to be funny by denying the truth…I’m just not bossy. Ask my boss at work if I’m bossy; bet he says I’m not.

Really though, I think I’m good at admitting faults (see, “He’s really moody” section) but this “bossy” label is one hundred percent due to the fact that The VP of Ops is an all-time horrible decision maker. When I say that, I’m not meaning it in the sense of making bad decisions like “she decides to get a neck tattoo when she’s drunk.” More like, she just WON’T make a decision. Every single Saturday that we both have free, I’ll ask her what she wants for lunch. “Where should we go? We can go wherever you want!”-I ask like the Magic Lunch Fairy. What this leads to is her telling me that she’s going to find a spot by looking through the Yelp! app on her phone. Then, about 13 minutes later, I’ll walk past her and see that she’s just scrolling through Instagram. “Oh yeah, I forgot”-and she’ll get back to the Yelp! app before asking me “well, what do you want?” no less than 39 times. So me putting an end to this misery and picking a restaurant that she told me she LOVED is, then, an example of me being bossy? In the words of an Italian television caricature “Getda’ Fug Outta Hee!”

OUR WORLD:

So Spotify has this thing now, I don’t know if it’s new or not, where they create a playlist for you called “Time Capsule”. Through the magic of the internet (and the government…) they somehow know what songs I liked when in my formative years. This morning I have heard some real treats like Matchbox Twenty (Rob Thomas can sing, so back off), “Sabotage” (the only Beastie Boys song I like), and “Rollin'” by Limp Bizkit (NOT the only Limp Bizkit song I like…WHAT?!?! IT’S GREAT WORKOUT MUSIC!)

This “Time Capsule” got me to thinking about the 90s and so I wanted to put together the beginning of a “Whatever Happened To __________?” list for my fellow kids of the 90s. Maybe I’ll continue this in future blogs…maybe not…I do what I want.

–Eve 6: Was “Inside Out” just too perfect of a song? I’m guessing they made that and were like “well, we can’t top that…so let’s just leave.”

–Drew Barrymore: She was in every single movie for a stretch there and now, where she at? Drew? Where you at, Drew? She is also maybe the best example of a celeb I can’t decide if I’m attracted to or not.

–The guy with tiny sunglasses in “The Professional”: I’ve actually never seen this movie, but feel like I have because I’ve seen the preview like a hundred times and CONSTANTLY think about watching it on nights I’m having trouble finding something. He seemed like a pretty solid character actor, though. Maybe? I don’t know.

–Jesse Camp: This is the guy who won MTVs first “Wanna Be a VJ” contest. Man, this dude was off-putting. Also, pretty provocative name for a TV show, in hindsight. I don’t want to look up what this dude is up to now because I fully expect it to be very depressing.

–Ben Savage from “Boy Meets World”: Again, not going to look up what he’s actually up to, but for very different reasons than Jesse Camp. I don’t want to look Ben Savage up because I’m rooting for him to be miserable now. When I was a grad film student at UCLA (are you impressed by debt? Well get a load of this!) I ran into Ben Savage hanging out in the office of my student housing building. He was like hanging out with people that worked there or something? Anyway, I recognized him and because it was a Friday night and I was probably 5 beers deep at this point, struck up a conversation with him. Unfortunately, he quickly turned this light conversation into a passionate monologue about how stupid and delusional he thinks people trying to break into the film/television biz are. He did not know that I was (am?) one of those people. He was so condescending and pompous, that I wish I would’ve told him that the GLARING FLAW with “Boy Meets World” was that Topanga was WAY too hot for him. Everyone agrees on this and if you see this cheesedick on the street, feel free to remind him of it. I’d appreciate it.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I bet you’re like me and still know all the lyrics to this.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Punchable face times a billion.

Savage

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, my NBA playoff parlay is basically dead now that the Blazers are down 0-3 to the Pelicans. Isn’t it great when you look back on a bet and it’s SUPER OBVIOUS that betting against Anthony Davis was a bad idea? I just love it. I placed a few bets last night and ended up going 2 for 4, so that’s not horrible at least. I’m guessing that Philly is becoming the favorite to come out of the East now, and so I think I may want to put some money on Cleveland. I can’t stand LeBron, but I just can’t see him going down to Ben Simmons and Embiid…not yet.

(My account currently at $207.73)

K bye.