Category: party

Bar Rescue and My Warning (4/4/2018)

OUR WORLD:

Yesterday, I bestowed a very prestigious honor upon three reality television shows when I inducted “Vanderpump Rules”, “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” and “Bar Rescue” into the jimmyschair reality tv show Hall of Fame.  With controversy over the initial selections SWIRLING, I would like to explain why I am right and you are wrong and I am the best and you are the worst.  Jk lol guys! It’s called a joke, ever heard of it?!?! Gah!

I would, however, like to give Hall of Fame intros for each of these wonderful shows.  Why? Because they deserve it.  First up, “Bar Rescue”:

Do you remember where you were the first time you saw Taffer swagger his ass into a dirty bar on his way to save his reconnaissance team from eating undercooked chicken?!  It was probably on your couch, on a Sunday morning, wasn’t it?  You were hungover, weren’t you?  You were probably a real grimy piece of shit that morning, weren’t you?  Yeah, you were.  I was.  We all were.  Little did we know that all we needed was a few hours of Taffer berating stupid bar owners.  Running a bar isn’t just a business, it’s a science.  Put down the advil, “Bar Rescue” was on.

A lot of people often ask how this somewhat out-of-shape, uggo faced nobody with thinning hair slicked back like an 80s movie villain was able to resonate with audiences the way he has.  So many people have asked me this, guys.  Like, in my head while I’m writing this, so many people..  I believe it’s because he’s EXACTLY the kind of guy that you think a bar owner would look like.  When you think “owner of a bar in town that’s kinda’ dirty,” you see Jon Taffer’s face.  Boom, authenticity right off the bat but, uh oh!  Then Taffer dribbles behind his back and you’re let in on the FACT that he has transformed HUNDREDS of bars WORLDWIDE!  That’s right, you judged this book by it’s cover, and you were DEAD wrong.  Taffer doesn’t own that “bar in town that’s kinda’ dirty”; he turns money pits into money makers.

Your hangover headache begins to subside because your brain is faced with being wrong about your initial Taffer impressions.  Then, as the show kicks in, you see how much he cares for people…people like you.  Bet you wish that some hardo with bad hair would’ve yelled at the bar owner who over served you last night.  Taffer would have!  Your stomach feeling weird from those nachos you had the night before?  The Taff-man would’ve spotted that!  (Hidden cameras?!?!) YEAH, HE HAS HIDDEN CAMERAS GUYS!  Taff-A-Rama would’ve seen that Chef Boyar-poophands didn’t properly sanitize the serving laddle before scooping that nacho cheese onto the tortilla chips.  How hard is it to wash a laddle!?!?!  But Taffer wouldn’t have just watched this happen to you.  No.  He would’ve stormed out of his 2007 Chevrolet Tahoe XL, parked inconspicuously across the street so as not to garner any unwanted attention, and gotten to those nasty ‘chos before you turned your hand into a mouth shovel.  Taffer is the hero we deserve.

Then, as we descend into the depths of hangover depression alongside the Dorito crumbs that have piled up on our dirty t-shirts, Taffer introduces us to someone who makes WORSE decisions than you: the bar owner.  Normally, they’ll be taking shots with customers, or yelling at employees, or throwing loose papers on their desk.  Jon walks in and immediately fingers them as “the bad guy”.  What does that mean? That means YOU are not the bad guy any longer, you were simply the victim of a poorly run bar.  HE is the bad guy.

They’ll normally be real defensive and shitty when Taffer calmly and politely, but also sternly, introduces himself.  A “whatever”-eye-roll is a go-to move for the shitty bar owners here.  Or, the incredulous “what?!” when Taffer asks WHY THEY HAVE BEEN SERVING ‘CHOS USING A DIRTY FUCKING LADDLE?!?!?! WHY?!  (Let’s call this shitty owner, Vic.  That’s a shitty owner name.)  WHY ARE YOU SERVING NACHO CHEESE USING A RAT-SHIT INFESTED LADDLE, VIC?  Vic will probably shake his head, or give Taffer the “pshh” hand gesture.  Meanwhile, you’re beginning to realize that it was fucking Vic’s fault as to why your stomach is so messed up.  GET HIM JOHN!

Vic will try to walk away because he has a short temper and doesn’t want to be set off, but guess what? Taffer ain’t scared of you, Vic.  Taffer’s a tall man who has big huge muscles underneath that layer of authentic chub (non-trainers that have 6-pack abs simply do not work hard at their jobs.  Fact.)  The Taff-man will continue to search for an answer re:dirty laddle because he is here to root out the problem.  Vic will continue to walk away until…”I don’t know, Jon!”  But, Jon DOES know.  BECAUSE YOU’RE LAZY, VIC!

Are you lazy? Possibly.  As lazy as Vic, though? No way.  Phew, you’re in the clear.  So not only is Taffer a bar scientist, but he has also been trained in the art of cutting-to-the-core-issue.  Vic is lazy, and until Vic comes to terms with that, his bar will FAIL.  Doctors have to run expensive tests before reaching a diagnosis.  Taffer’s test is free, and it’s called “the eye test”.  “I knew, once Vic turned around and looked me in the eye, that the reason the paddle wasn’t clean is because he is a lazy human being”-Taffer.

As enthralling as the initial confrontation and IMMEDIATE diagnosis was, that’s just the beginning.  Now that you’re beginning to come out of your hangover hell (it wasn’t your fault!) you are treated to a behind-the-scenes look at what it takes to run an effective bar.  Taffer, knowing that he isn’t an expert in EVERYTHING (humility), has enlisted the help of his friends; and he’s only friends with people who are experts in their fields.  There’s gonna be the fat chef wearing the newsboy cap and thumb rings.  You like sliders? Well Chef Thumbrings has cooked sliders at hotels in a little town called LAS VEGAS, NEVADA!  And those sliders are….uh…well, judging by the fact that he has a chef’s shirt with his name on it, they must be pretty fuggin’ perfect.  That’s not the only one Taffer brought, though.  You remember that bartender with the menacing smile who shook two metal shakers at the same time?  Yep, she’s here too, and guess what? She’s wearing a vest.  FYI: Only bartenders that have won Bartending awards you didn’t know existed, can wear vests (surprised you didn’t know that).

As Chef Thumbrings and Bartender Vest whip Vic’s secretly-wanting-to-do-good staff into shape, Jon has bigger fish to fry.  Not only is he explaining the science behind the necessary remodeling, but he needs to get to the real issue: Vic’s unwillingness to change his lazy ways.  These scenes are gonna be tough, and there will be yelling.  Will Vic walk out the backdoor at one point and threaten to just shut the bar down? Of course he will because that’s what weak men do.  But Taffer won’t let him quit.  Taffer isn’t there to make Vic feel bad about himself.  Taffer is there because Vic needs to accept responsibility before he is able to truly change…and change is hard, guys.

Vic will come back the day after threatening to shut the bar down, and Taffer will make a joke.  It won’t be that funny, but that’s not the point.  It’ll be kinda’ sweet and Vic, for the first time in his entire life, will crack a smile.  The walls Vic has spent decades building up are beginning to crumble just in time for Vic’s chef to deliver him some delicious, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA-STYLE sliders.

At this point, you’re getting hungry on your couch because those sliders look so elfin’ good and, you’re all like, “Babe, is there a delivery slider place? No? There should be.  Are you sure there’s not?  I know I can look it up on GrubHub, but-”  BUT, you’re so excited for the final remodel reveal, and grand re-opening that you don’t have time for “Slider Delivery Near Me” internet searches.  (DUH!)  

When we come back from the final commercial break, and we see Vic’s face light up at the marquee outside his bar, Taffer has done his job.  He’ll walk Vic and his staff through the outrageous upgrades littered throughout this once-upon-a-time dump of a bar.  New barstools? Check.  New background bar lighting? Check. Clean grill hood? Check.  And, the kicker? Taffer bought Vic a brand new, state of the art, nacho-cheese-laddle-washer.  Taffer will throw his arm around Vic, and Vic will laugh at how stupid he USED to be re:dirty laddles.  If your hangover isn’t eviscerated by this act of self-deprecating laddle humor, then just jump out that window cuz it don’t get no betta’ than this.

Ladies and Gentlemen, without further ado, I would like to formally induct “Bar Rescue” into the Jimmyschair Reality TV Show Hall of Fame.  (Get up and clap, assholes.)

MY WORLD:

It snowed last night and if you’re not in a bad mood today because of that, I don’t know what kind of human being you are.  I would simply like to use today’s “My World” section as a warning of sorts.  I will not be my best self today.  Wind + cold + snow in FUGGIN APRIL! = surly Jimmy.  With that in mind, if you find yourself in the unfortunate position of being in my vicinity today, please refrain from the following:

1)  Joking about Chicago’s weather.  It is simply not a laughing matter.

2)  Touching me.  Sometimes, I enjoy a gentle back pat, or shoulder graze, but I’m putting myself in a touch-free-zone today.  This includes handshakes.  I get it, we met; no need to touch palms to signify that.

3)  Asking me if I’m going on vacation anytime soon.  I’m not and that’s really none of your business anyway.

4)  Smiling.  Today is about pursed lips and incredulous shaking of heads.  Feel free to hit me with a sarcastic smile, but I swear to God, if you punch me with a tooth-party, genuinely happy smile, we’re done.  Finished forever.  Capish?

5)  Looking at me…

Okay, this is getting out of hand.  Whenever I fully engage in Surly Jimmy mood, a snowballing situation occurs.  Let’s just keep our distance…mmkay?!?!  I SAID BACK UP!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Cold.

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:

Today is the last day I can build up my balance a lil bit more before The Masters, so you best believe I’m finding some action.  Also! The VP of Ops has a girls trivia night or some shit, so I can actually watch sports at home without feeling guilty!  Oooooo doggy!  Celtics are getting 7.5 points on the road in Toronto.  Both teams coming off road losses last night…so they’re both gonna be mad…that’s a lot of points.  I’m expecting a close game.  Gimme them Boston Bad Boys!  TAKE CELTICS (+7.5) STRAIGHT TO DA BANK!

(My account currently at $21.09)

K bye.

At Least You Don’t Have That Job and Bad Purchases (4-2-18)

 

OUR WORLD:

Boy am I excited that it’s Monday AND it’s absolutely freezing outside!  This is the best!  LIFE IS MEANT TO BE LIVED!!!!  If you happen to see me before 9AM this morning, do yourself and walk the other way because NOT TODAY!  On days when I catch myself being extra bitchy and pouty (oh, so everyday Jimmy?) I’ll try to come up with people that have it worse than me.  In all honesty, my job is like 87% good stuff and the rest isn’t stuff that is worth bitching about the way the rest of the working world gets to (but I wanna pout too!!!!  Also, maybe I said that so co-workers don’t give me a side-eye, like “so…if working here is so bad maybe you should just quit!”  jk guys lol omg ttyl!)  REGARDLESS!  Some Mondays I find myself running through what jobs have it way worse than I ever had and, hopefully, ever will have.  If you’re having an especially rough Monday, roll through this list and I think you’ll begin to feel thankful.  Let’s call these the “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job List…(if you happen to work one of the following jobs then may God have mercy on your soul.)  

–Anything having to do with outdoor construction:  Aside from the 6 days of the year that are in the perfect temperature range, construction workers have to either be freezing or hotter than hell.  Aside from that, they have to wear the big heavy boots FOR SAFETY!  They have to wear hardhats that would def mess with your hairline, and the bending and lifting and digging and hammering and what if you slip?  If you’re a full-time construction person, you definitely have a story about slipping and “that’s why my hand doesn’t really work anymore.”  Aside from the actual work itself, keep in mind that the general public is FUCKING annoyed with construction sites because they’re loud, hold up traffic and “like, is it EVER gonna be done?!”  How many angry drivers do you think these people have to deal with per day?  If you’re working road construction, there have to be at least 8 times a day where some douche in a foreign car lays on his horn because construction has created a traffic jam.  Does the horn help ease the jam?  Of course not, but Mr. Audi Douche would like everyone to know that he HAS A FUCKING MEETING!

The combo of backbreaking work and a generally ungrateful audience is a ROUGH work environment.  The only upside is getting to eat whatever you want because you just worked so hard.  Like, if I’m jackhammering a sidewalk for five hours (that’s a thing they do, right) you better believe I’m not gonna worry about how many carbs are in the BIG sandwich from Potbelly.  You’re getting that big cuz you earned the ever loving shit out of that big.  So that’s nice…but then it’s back to the heat and hard manual labor and, you know what guys? I quit.  I just can’t.

-Starbucks Barista:  You are immediately SLAMMED busy earlier than the entire world on Monday morning dealing with Monday people who have yet to have their coffee.  Seriously, how have their not been more Monday morning Starbucks shootings?  Having worked in a restaurant that had a cappuccino machine (whatever, yeah…it’s, not even a big deal) I know first hand that making those foofy coffee drinks is a BITCH.  Thankfully, I only had to make like one per 6 hour shift.  These Starbucks people have to make like a bajillion all the while an angry pre-coffee mob is waiting off to the side wondering why the fuck their mocha gabba jabba is taking more than one second to make!  You think your job has pressure?!?! GET REAL BROTHA!

Also, how many times have you been behind that person at Starbucks who seems to be trying to invent their own personal drink?  Like, there’s no way Starbucks has a “virgin, half caf, pseudo-mocha, almond butter infused cafe ole easy foam heavy bubbles”…AND THEN THEY DO HAVE THAT THING!  But, the person who ordered it isn’t even impressed!  Instead, they just go back to their fucking bluetooth phone convo and you just wanna be like “aren’t you AMAZED with that barista?!?!”  But they’re not.  Nope, the barista will carry on like the Van Gogh of coffee drink makers and Barry Bluetooth won’t even think about dropping a buck in the tip jar.  If I were the barista?  I’d just make everyone a black coffee and then shrug my shoulders and say NOTHING when they’d complain.

-Meter Maids:  I always always always think about what a meter maid says to his/her spouse when they get back home and are asked how their day was.  Is there ever a good day to be a meter maid?  Hand up, I am SUPER mean to these people and I don’t even feel that bad about it cuz I’ve become a master of justifying it (I have effectively convinced myself that the only people that could work this job are people that legitimately enjoy ruining people’s days.)  When I have a little distance from it though, they are definitely working that job because it pays the bills and they’re just doing their best.  Talk about a thankless job.  A Meter Maid has never heard someone say “good job!”  I bet even their bosses are just pissed they didn’t assign more tickets.

I would love to be at a table next to a bunch of meter maids at a happy hour.  Can you imagine the “this is why my job sucks”-stories that they get to share with each other?  All day, everyday they are dealing with people who just missed moving their car by 4 minutes.  Oh! And, they have to be outside all day in a uniform which mucho stinks.  Please, don’t tell me about how it would be “nice to be outside” in the summer.  Why do you think air conditioning was invented?  Because being outside is nice for a minute and then “it’s actually kinda’ hot.”  PASS!

As I’ve written this, my big huge beautiful brain has been flooded with other jobs that would be mucho stinko so….guess what guys?!?! I’m gonna make this a jimmyschair Monday staple.  From here on out, FOR THE REST OF TIME! The Monday edition of jimmyschair will include a list of “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-jobs.  I’m excited.

MY WORLD:

I spent too much money at the bar on Saturday night.  I opened up a tab, turned into JimmyGoodTimes and, quickly, morphed into JimmyIGotThis for the proceeding 4 hours. Closing my tab included the “it’ll be okay” self-talk followed by hating myself all day yesterday, with a few “it’s just money, Jimmy” mixed in to try to calm myself.  It wasn’t THAT bad (I’m a pouty baby, remember?) but, like, DAMNIT JIMMY!  Much the way I do with other jobs on Monday mornings, I tried to remember back to a worse purchase that I have made, in an effort to make myself feel better.  That’s when I remembered…I bought a recliner from Costco when I was in high school.

I worked at a golf course in the summers during high school, and since I was too scared to make any actual friends, I turned my bedroom in an ultimate hang-zone (you talkin’ ’bout a Hangzone 5000?  Yeah guys, I am.)  I bought a mini-fridge, a big tv, XBox and…all I needed was a big comfy chair.  My bedroom was small and my parents definitely had caught on to my blossoming loner-den, but I lied to them about all the friends I had so, I SAID I’M FINE MOM!

Anyway, Costco had a put-it-together-yourself massaging recliner for like $400.  I told my dad that I was going to get it and he rolled his eyes so hard he def saw his brain.  Look, I was a stressed out lil baby and NEED MASSAGES DAD!  GAH!  My bedroom was 1,000,000,000,000% too small for this chair, but I was determined to be comfy at all times instead those four walls.  So I saved up for weeks and bought the friggin chair.  It took me FOREVER to put together and would slam into my dresser every time I leaned back.  The “massaging” felt and sounded more like loose pebbles being thrown at my back a little too hard, and the plug sparked whenever I put it in the wall outlet.  Did someone order a fire hazard?

Whenever my dad would walk past my room, I would sit in the chair and make purring noises because I was very weird and thought that would make him jealous that he didn’t have such a chair.  He was never jealous.  Disappointed? Absolutely.  Jealous? That’s gonna be a “no”.  After a few weeks of pretending to be comfortable in a not-comfortable-at-all-massaging-recliner, I dug the box out of the garage, dismantled the chair, and returned it to Costco.  They gave me all my money back and….WAIT!

That didn’t work at all.  Now I don’t feel better about my weekend bar spend because I can’t throw the 19 Tecates I had in a box and return them to the bar.   Great.  Well, I hope you enjoyed my exercise in not-making-myself-feel-better.  GODDAMNIT!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This scene came up at our Easter dinner and we all laughed like maniacs.  Enjoy:

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you open up your refrigerator on Monday morning and see all the Easter candy you stole from your parents house is sitting right in front of your dumb, fat face but you can’t have any cuz it’s Monday morning and you were gonna get back to eating healthy this week.  Thissss isssss jusssssssst GREAT!

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’m not gonna lie to you guys.  I know that I bet on Kansas and Michigan this weekend.  I also know that JimmyGoodTimes made quick friends with JimmyGambles and, next thing I know, I had like a billion little bets going on the two final four games this weekend.  What were they? I absolutely do not remember and, no, I will not check my betting history to see what they were.  All’s I know is that I only lost like $9 which is less than $10, so I’m basically even.  I’LL TAKE IT!  Tonight? I’m probably gonna bet on Michigan because my friend went there, but my brain thinks Villanova is gonna chop Michigan’s head off.

(My account currently at $64.82)

K bye.

Restaurant Rules Pt. 2

OUR WORLD:

Hungover, poor and outrageously jealous of my friends with credit card points was me as a restaurant worker.  Squeezing that hostility into t-shirts that were 1.5 sizes too small (had to show off the guns) and you had what those in the biz like to call a “problem”.  Looking back at my time as a restaurant worker, it’s amazing there was never a choking incident involving me either as the aggressor or victim.  You know what my favorite thing to do was?  Tell customers “no”.  I’m not even kidding.  Like, if someone asked “do you have a tomato vodka pasta sauce?” I would just say “no,” and just let the waiting-for-an-alternative-suggestion-silence devour their whole world.  I could feel them squirm waiting for me to break the silence, but THAT. WAS. NOT. COMING.  It was a Buffalo Bill type tendency that makes me worry about what else I’m capable of…madness…yes, madness….WHAT A FUCKING DICK I WAS! (You still are Jimmy and everyone will find out and stop being friends with you and you’ll go crawling back to that restaurant begging to sweep the floors.  From, The Woman you abandoned in awkward silence until her brain melted from the stress of it all, just because it felt good to respond “no” when she asked if you “had any gluten free homemade noodles?”)  

These confessions will sound even more insane after I tell you that…I GOT PROMOTED MULTIPLE TIMES IN MULTIPLE RESTAURANTS!!!  That’s right, the lunatic in the tiny tee who got off on disappointing customers without explanation MOVED. UP. THE LADDER.  (This is the part where my head tells me that I should remind the readers that I’m a Sensei in the art of exaggeration but…I’m not really exaggerati-SHIT!)  You want to know the real reason I’m telling you my deepest darkest restaurant secrets, though?  A) Because I don’t work there anymore and like…{valley-girl voice} whatever! B) Because I wanted to establish a common ground with restaurant workers before I give my…—

“WHAT NOT TO DO” FOR RESTAURANT WORKERS

-When you see a customer trying to get your attention out of the corner of your eye, don’t pretend you didn’t see them and then act busier than you are.

Again, a go-to move for Tiny Tee Jimmy (The VP’s friend made fun of my small restaurant shirts when we started dating and I can never shake it now).  This move is absolutely infuriating because WE KNOW YOU CAN SEE US!  How many times have you sat at a cleared table waiting to get the check only to have your server walk past you a billion times pretending not to see your “excuse me, sir”-face?  Or, how about the times you realize you don’t have a salt shaker on your table only after your food is dropped?  Sure, the dish may not need salt, but you gotta dump some on it just for ritual’s sake and THE SERVER KEEPS IGNORING MY FINGER GUN/PINKY UP/AHEM-MISS? MOVE!!!! GODDAMNIT!  I think servers do this because they’re procrastinators hoping that work will just disappear.

-Don’t shrug your shoulders when people ask you which dish is better.

Look, even if you don’t have a strong opinion either way, just lie to me and tell me that the pesto is WAY better than the alfredo (cuz it always is…lay off fatsos, alfredo is cream with salt.)  I’ll never understand why some servers get awkwardly shy when asked to help a customer decide between two dishes.  Some act like there are chickens and cows with guns waiting for them in the kitchen; “I heard you say the chicken picatta was better than the strip steak.  So now I get to watch my wife get ripped from my arms and thrown onto a searing-hot pan,” said Chicken Charlie, as he turned his glock from Server Sally back unto himself, “I’m on my way sweetie….”

Unless you’re faced with cleaning widower chicken brains off your kitchen’s walls, maybe just give the customer a teeny tiny bit more confidence in their dinner order.  Also, if you give no answer to a customer looking for an opinion, all you’re doing is creating an awkward silence at the table and, therefore, causing you to spend more time dealing with people you don’t really want to be dealing with in the first place.  When I was a server, I would sometimes tell people I didn’t like items just to make them think I was trustworthy.  They’d ask, “how’s the shrimp?” and I would tell them “it’s not my favorite” even though it sometimes was.  Why? Because when you give someone an unexpectedly honest seeming answer, they IMMEDIATELY think they can trust you…(and now I feel like a sociopath for admitting I think that…)

-Don’t get defensive when your table asks why their food is taking longer than it should.

This is simple if you get ahead of the issue.  You know if food is taking too long to come out.  What is so hard about going up to a table and saying “hey guys, I’m sorry your food has been taking a while, but our kitchen is backed up and now I’m gonna tell you a lie about our computer system fucking things up because we all kinda’ hate technology.”?  You immediately get in front of the awkward interaction that begins with a table asking “what is taking so long?”  Even if it is your fault, blame it on some asshole in the kitchen that the table is never gonna meet.  Odds are that the table will appreciate how forthright you just were and will feel bad that you have to deal with Donnie’s kitchen bullshit.

Or, you can get defensive when a guy asks you why the turkey sandwich and egg dish that he and his wife ordered is taking over 40 minutes (weird…the exact thing happened to The VP of Ops and I this past Sunday…) Then you’ll get a–dammit, you’ll still get a 15% tip because I felt guilty but you totally didn’t deserve even 15% and I want you (yeah you, the professional eye-roller) to know that I’m normally a 25% tipper.  So, enjoy being 10% poorer than you should be (that’s how math works, jerk.)

-Don’t pour my drink into a glass right in front of me like I don’t know how to do it.

Does anyone enjoy watching a server approach your table, set down a glass, open your beer for you and then slowly, awkwardly, incorrectly pour it into said glass all while you just sit there like a fat, useless tub of lard?  You probably look at your phone to cut the awkwardness, don’t you? I’ve taken to just telling them that I can do it to avoid the ensuing awkwardness.  Let me say this; if you enjoy having a beer opened and poured for you while you do nothing, then your parents probably resent the person you have become.

Bring the beer and open it.  Leave the pouring to me.  I’M AN ADULT WHO HATES FEELING USELESS EVEN THOUGH I KINDA’ AM SOMETIMES BUT NOT WHEN IT COMES TO POURING DRINKS IN GLASSES!

–Don’t have Law & Order SVU on the TVs without the sound when the city you’re in has a team in the playoffs playing RIGHT NOW!

If you’re a Law & Order SVU-themed bar, then fine (I can hear The VP of Ops making borderline-sexual grunting noises at the thought of this).  But, the only people watching TVs in bars are sports fans, so why tease them?  I do think that hipster servers probably love watching sportos squirm as they pretend not to know how a television remote works and ask “wait, what channel did you say?” for the ninth time.  Part of me respects such deviousness, but most of me is a sporto who JUST GIVE ME THE GODDAMN REMOTE!

MY WORLD:

My worst restaurant experience as a customer happened when I lived in Los Angeles (golden tan, killer bod, hot babes and blow wherever I went.  You know? That Los Angeles). I was on a date with A REAL LIFE LADY (Pre-VP of Ops.  This girl was more “VP of Not Being Able To Contribute To The Conversation”)  My plan for the date was a little out there, dinner and a movie, but I’m a risk taker, guys.  We got to dinner, ordered and began having very forced, stilted conversations that were not made better with my penchant for drinking super fast when I get nervous.  I was nervous and…needed to get drunk so fast please be drunk now so I don’t have to deal with my feelings faster faster faster!!!!

Next thing I know, it’s like 45 minutes after we ordered our entrees and the food still isn’t there.  Am I eight drinks deep?  Yes, but there was no drink limit printed on the menu so looks like I’m not breaking any rules and you should shut up.  Besides, Miss No-Conversation-Skills wasn’t interesting when I was sober, so what was I really missing?

Not wanting to waste our tickets for Russell Crowe and his “Am-I-Officially-Too-Fat-To-Be-A-Star”face in “Robin Hood”, I asked our server if our food was getting close.  “I don’t know man,” was not the response I was hoping for, but it was the response I got.  Even my drunk brain was like “whoa, that was rough.”  The restaurant was DEAD so I knew the kitchen wasn’t backed up, but I didn’t wanna introduce Miss ZERO-PERSONALITY to Angry Jimmy on our first date.  So I sat quiet, kinda bit the inside of my lip and prayed that, that dickhead server just gave me a reason…JUST GIMME A REASON!

Another 20 minutes and nothing.  I hadn’t seen our server for a while so I went up to the host stand to ask for a manager.  YEAH, I DID THAT.  When the manager arrived I told him that we had waited for over an hour and blah blah blah we needed to go now.  So he asked me to pay for our drinks…Lame move, Mr. Manager.  Waiting over an hour to get no food and you want me to–okay, okay, we’re not getting angry.  I repeat!  We (as in me) are going to prove to Miss I-Already-Can’t-Wait-Till-This-Is-Over that WE are in control of our emotions even in the most adverse of conditions.  Did I tell the manager that I didn’t appreciate the service that night? I did.  Did he shake his head like a condescending bitch and apologize “if you feel that way”? He did.  We are still in control of our emotions.

Then we left the restaurant to walk to the movie theater when I saw our server, back in the restaurant, making purposeful eye-contact with me and proceeding to wave at me as I left.  It was one of those “go fuck yourself” waves and that’s when I politely told The VP of You’re About To Be Embarrassed By Me that I would be right back.

I re-entered the restaurant making a BEE-LINE for the kitchen where I saw the server giving me the “go fuck yourself” wave.  Manager Douche Canoe and the bartender got in my way but not before I got to yell “come outside and say goodbye to me!” to my new server friend.  It was a solid line and I am forever proud I got it out.  The fact that such a cool line was lost in me cussing out the manager and bartender is something I wish not to rehash.

I used to legitimately wonder why that server was such a dick to me that night.  Did he used to date the girl I was out with?  Seemed unlikely that any other human would be duped into going out with such a DUD, so I’m gonna cross that off the list.  Did I go to High School with him and he was offended I didn’t recognize him? Probably not because I was a total loner back then, but a real sweetheart who most people secretly felt bad for (right?) Maybe he was jealous that I was pulling off the two-earring look that he always dreamed of going for but never had the nerve to commit to?  Probably.  Or, it was just because he was a server who hated being reminded of the fact that he had to work when most people were on off-time.  And now I totally understand and feel bad for trying to intimidate him.  (I am also thankful that he did not come and say goodbye to me outside because that would have been scary!)

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Fat Russell Crowe in the middle of a walking work-out is a personal fave.

RUSSELL CROWE OUT IN LA

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you’re in the middle of watching an awesome YouTube video on your iPhone and, all of a sudden, the video stops because your phone has to warn you that you only have 20% battery life remaining.  THANKS FOR RUINING THE MOOD, APPLE!

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:

Another day, another dollar not won.  Starting to feel like I’m giving money away by NOT gambling.  I will be alone in a Rockford, Illinois hotel tonight and that means one thing…gambling on random NBA games RIGHT before they start.  No point in looking at the lines now.

(My account currently at $102.61)

K bye.

Restaurant Rules and Nightmares Pt.1

OUR WORLD:

I had a server nightmare last night (I think…I may not have because I super suck at remembering my dreams), but it got me thinking about back to my days working in restaurants.  Probably because I hated working in restaurants, but there were like A BILLION things that customers did that annoyed me.  Now that I’m just a Normal Joe who doesn’t work in restaurants anymore (aside from an occasional serving shift I have to beg my old boss for when my gambling losses become an ISSUE) I have noticed that there are like A BILLION things that restaurant workers do that annoy me.  IT’S LIKE THE WHOLE UNIVERSE IS AGAINST ME!!! (maybe my favorite George Constanza line that my Dad and I throw back and forth at each other anytime any tiny thing annoys us.)

costanza

Having worked in restaurants and now….uh, not….I would like to help ALL OF US (we’re a community!) by spelling out “What Not To Do” for both customers AND restaurant workers.  I will do the ones for customers today and the ones for restaurant workers tomorrow (Tease ’em like a pro, Jimmy!)  My hope is that each side will begin to understand the other and we can rid the  restaurant world of the passive aggressiveness and the “you’re not going to believe what table 7 just did” that currently plagues the world’s restaurant scene.  Let’s start with the customers…

“WHAT NOT TO DO” FOR RESTAURANT CUSTOMERS

–When your server gets to your table, don’t play finger-drums on the table and ask “so whaddya’ got?”

Whether this place is busy or hasn’t had a customer since you were born, the server will immediately go into a silent, rage filled, forced smile while holding back EVERY SINGLE FIBER OF THEIR BEING from pointing at the menu and saying something along the lines of “READ, MOTHERFUCKER!”  Nearing the end of my time as a server, I would give SUPER snarky responses when asked this question.  I was lucky a customer never punched me for responding “that’s what menus are for”, but come on, that is an asinine and NOT FUNNY question.  That’s the thing I never understood as a server; Someone would do the finger-drums/”whaddya’ got?” routine and look around their table like they’re expecting Richard Pryor-in-his-prime-laughs.  What’s funny about basically asking a stranger to read for you?  The amount of tired/lame/jesus-just-shut-the-fuck-up jokes that servers have to hear is insane, so do them a favor and keep this lame not-joke to yourself.  Every living being in the history of the universe has something better to do than hear this routine.

-Don’t be the first or last customer of the day.

This one doesn’t make total logical sense, but I am writing this to help customers.  Obviously, if there was NEVER a “first customer of the day,” there would be no customers and no money for the servers and the servers would all be evicted for not being able to pay rent and then have to live under bridges with VERMIN!  That being said, every server hates their first and last customers of the day.  I remember setting up in the morning, watching someone approach the doors right as the clock struck 11:30AM and saying to myself “Jesus, they have to get here THE SECOND we open?!?!”  It’s an assholey thing to think and say, but all servers feel this way.  It’s almost like, all servers don’t want to be serving, so if no one ever shows up they don’t have to face the harsh reality that they’re still working a job they don’t want to be working.  (That’s DEFINITELY how I was/am/will always be.)  

As far as being the last customer of the day, there is one caveat, it only applies to when being the last customer before the restaurant closes.  If you’re a server’s last customer at the end of their lunch shift, they’ll really like you as long as you don’t linger when paying the bill.  However, if you’re the person who walks in 8 minutes before closing and asks “are we too late?” everyone that works there hates you.  They won’t be able to tell you that it’s too late because there’ll be one boss/owner who actually tries hard at their job, so they’ll probably force a smile and say something like “not too late…excuse me while I take a quick rest on the train tracks though!”

-Don’t eat your entire meal and then call a server over to offer “constructive criticism” about the dish.

This is a quick way to make your server feel bad.  You said nothing throughout the entire meal, then want to tell them how disappointed you are when it’s too late for them to do anything?  If your steak was “too salty”, then why did you eat it and lick your plate?  Do you know how uncomfortable it is for a server to approach a chef about something being wrong with a dish?  IT’S THE WORST!  Now, if there’s like a nail in a hamburger, sure you can say something like “Hey Chef, maybe next time, don’t put nails in the hamburgers.”  But, if a table has eaten EVERYTHING on the plate, uh…not going to the chef.  “Hey Chef, they ate everything but wanted me to relay some constructive criticism to you because, even though they fuck up cooking boxed macaroni at home, they eat.”  Not happening.  If you have a legit issue with your food, bring it up EARLY.  If you finish your plate, nobody cares about your “tips” on how to make it better.

-Don’t insinuate that you know the owner.

You’re not fooling anyone when you ask “is ‘Owner’s name’ here tonight?” We all know that you don’t actually care to say hi to the owner, but that you’re really just letting the staff know that you’ve met their boss before.  Ugh, douche alert sirens BLARE when someone asks this.  If the owner IS in the restaurant, and approaches YOU, then fine, you’re gonna get fantastic service for fear of pissing off a boss.  The truth is, the only people that openly insinuate that they “know the owner” are assholes who tilt their head and give no-teeth smiles when they send back ANOTHER drink!  Next time, instead of asking if the owner is there, just stand up on a table with a bullhorn and announce to the entire restaurant “I plan on being condescending to my server tonight!”

-Give Yelp! a rest.

Restaurant workers hate Yelp! the way you hate the “things to work on” section of your employee review.  Imagine if that section was then put on a public website!  Do servers/restaurants do things that they deserve to get shit on for? Of course, but most of the time, the people that write on Yelp! didn’t say anything when they were actually in the restaurant.  Typically, they rile themselves up about what happened on the ride home (I can’t believe that server only gave me one extra lemon when I asked for extra lemonS!  THE ‘S’ MEANS PLURAL YOU FUCKING SONOFABITCH!) and then decide that their imagination requires a public forum (Jimmy, that’s exactly what you’re doing right now with this blog…and now my brain hurts).  The thing that stinks most about Yelp!, aside from having to type out the exclamation point every time I write ‘Yelp!’, is that most people take it as gospel.  Sometimes, servers are just having a bad day and…just relax about it.  When I started dating the VP of Ops my biggest issue with her was how much she relied on Yelp! when picking a restaurant.  Now, she likes the pictures more than the reviews (reading is not her strong suit…What?!?! Have you seen her degree?!?! Me neither!!!) but it felt like she was validating every tattle tale who couldn’t wait to run home and type their Yelp! review.  Also, real quick, a very good friend of mine once revealed to me that he was one of Yelp’s “Elite Reviewers” because he wrote so many reviews.  He was bragging about all the perks that came from Yelp! for doing this: restaurant deals, free meals at new restaurants, etc.  I haven’t looked at this “very good friend” the same since.  In fact, I would like to officially reduce him from “very good friend” to “friend”.  You know who you are.

MY WORLD:

Quick story about my worst day as a restaurant worker.  I was managing (natural leader stuff) a mom-and-pop restaurant in the suburbs that would get REAL busy, especially in the summer because our outdoor section was dopeshow 10,000.  This night, we were SLAMMED both inside and out, with a bunch of people waiting for a table to open up.   Servers were sweating from having to hustle, the kitchen crew was sweating because it was hot in there and most of them were overweight, and I wasn’t sweating that much cuz I’m not a sweaty guy but…THIS NIGHT WAS A SWEAT!

In the middle of this very tense steamroom, when it’s all a blur of “sir, your table should be ready any minute” and “Sharon, can you scream at table 9 to get up?!?!”, an older gentlemen asked me where the bathroom was.  Now, keep in mind that the inside of this restaurant was like 10 square feet.  Tiny place with the kitchen obviously on one side so…the bathroom could ONLY be on the other side.  I pointed him in the direction and he scurried away.  He had a mean face…and I’m telling you that because it’s true and you need to know that before getting really sad.

Next thing I know, one of our servers flares her nostrils and points down at the ground in a panic.  Another server said something like “is that a meatball?” and, oh dear god no, there was a big-meatball-sized shit on the ground.  Old guy didn’t make it…(I know, you’re feeling bad for him right now and I understand that.  Don’t get too sad yet, it evens out….)  Being the manager, I had no choice.  I wasn’t going to make the busboy making bullshit money do this…and the servers had already sprinted into the kitchen away from the meatball-poo.  I flew to the back, got the broom and dust pan, swept the dumperoo up, sprinted back to the alley and threw ALL OF THAT OUT.  Then whipped back inside, to spray and scrub human shit out of the carpet on my hands and knees.  The smell was real, but there was no time to waste and making a big deal out of it would’ve freaked everyone out even more…so I acted like it wasn’t a big deal.  It was.

As I scrubbed away on all fours like I was trying to cleanse every last carpet fiber that was bombed, the old man and his son stepped over me.  They literally lifted their legs to step over me the way you step over your sleeping dog on the way to the couch.  They then returned to their table outside to finish their meals LIKE NOTHING EVER HAPPENED.  I get that old people accidents happen and aren’t funny, but as the son, wouldn’t you have gone in to say something like “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, how can I help?” to me?  NO?!?! NOTHING?!?! AM I ON PLANET BULLSHIT!?!?!

The family literally said nothing to me and they came in and out of the restaurant a few more times.  Thankfully, they didn’t leave any other presents for our carpet on these trips, but how do you walk past someone who just scrubbed up your grandpa’s shit without so much as a “fuck-I’m-embarassed” look?  It was almost like this was par for the course for them.  “Hey guys, here’s the plan for tonight: let’s go to dinner, order apps and drinks, ignore when Grandpa dumps in the middle of the busy restaurant, and then get dessert and go back to laughing!”

I used to smoke cigarettes in these days and I remember the cigarette I lit up after that shift was the most-deserved cig in my lifetime.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Emma Gonzalez.  I know this is out of left field and kinda’, maybe too political for the type of stuff I normally write, but Emma is all sorts of badass.  I think it’s really easy to label High School students as dumb, because you were dumb in High School (I’m including me in this.  I was very very dumb and very very afraid of everything in High School) but this badass is not dumb and not afraid.  Or, if she is afraid, she’s tough enough to overcome that fear to say make super poignant points that require bravery to say.  I am incredibly impressed by Emma and I really like telling people that.

Emma Gonzalez

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This is how our sink looks every morning after The VP of Ops “brushes” her teeth.  I legitimately don’t think she was ever taught how to properly apply toothpaste to her toothbrush.

Toothpaste.jpg

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:

Didn’t gamble last night because I’m a strong man who has will power and gambling is not a problem for me so please stop asking me if I think I may “have a problem.”  Thank you.

(My account currently at $102.61)

K bye.

Finger Guns and Sports! (3/26/18)

MY WORLD (A Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The Vp of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable):

Per last Monday’s post, I would like to welcome you to the first inaugural writing for the “Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The VP of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable”-section.  Last week, (Thursday or Friday? I don’t know, you look it up) I put up a picture of The VP and I where I was throwing up the double guns.  This picture was taken in Memphis last September.  The VP of Ops is smiling in the picture, and that’s either because she was touching my shoulder and was probably pleasantly reminded that I have surprisingly muscular shoulders-OR-because it was the beginning of a night she did not realize would include me throwing up double guns for the following four and a half hours.

Mempis 1

The VP’s brother, let’s call him “Archduke Brotherman”, lives in Memphis and my favorite college football team, UCLA, was playing against Memphis that weekend.  The VP was also overdue to visit her Mom, SO resident-genius Jimmy (ME!) hatched a plan to viciously slaughter numerous birds with but a single pebble.   It’s a complicated plan, so strap it down: we’d stay with Archduke Brotherman in Memphis and her mom would drive up from Mississippi to stay with us and so I’d get to see UCLA and The VP would get to see her Mom.  You don’t get it, do you?  (Should the President put me in charge of war planning?)  Oh, also because I’m FUN! I decided to invite MY brother, let’s call him “Matthew”, for this excursion.

Archduke Brotherman has a big awesome apartment that makes me feel poor because he’s younger than me, so I constantly remind myself that Memphis is cheaper to live in than Chicago (facts only!)  The Archduke is also a member of the Good Times Brotherhood (G.T.B.)  So pairing him, myself, and Matthew (a founding member of the G.T.B.) together for a weekend away from home was basically a molotov cocktail of ENJOYMENT!  But, Jimmy, you ask, wouldn’t The VP of Ops’ Mom curtail your carefree Good Times Ways?  Nope! Why? Because The VPs Mom thinks I’m kinda funny AND I was gonna be drunk so…LONG HAIR DON’T CARE!!!

The first night we got there is when the picture above was taken.  We walked from Archduke Brotherman’s big awesome apartment to the street in Memphis that’s kinda’ like Broadway in Nashville but…uh…grimier.  On the walk, The VP asked me to take a picture of her and her mom.  I did because I’m really good at pressing to picher budden (picture button) and everybody knows this.  VPs Mom then said she would like to take a picture of The VP and I.  (Quick Jimmy, what pose will be funny enough to make my bros laugh so I’m not embarrassed to take a picture in front of them?!?! FASTER DAMNIT!)  Double guns was the obvious choice.  Throwing up the double guns is a tried-and-true-go-to of the G.T.B.  The VP thought it would just be for one picture though…she would be wrong.

Throwing up the double guns landed with the G.T.B. the way Bon Jovi lands with Moms who smoke cigarettes…THEY LOVED IT!  We had our joke for the night, and The VP knew it was about to be a problem.  The rest of the walk to the restaurant was filled with every member of the G.T.B. doing their best “I’m-a-spy-about-to-enter-an-enemies-territory” routine.  Basically, we’d take turns whipping around building corners with double guns drawn so that we could assure the rest of the group “coast is clear.”  Archduke Brotherman was a fan of the move where he’d throw his back up against walls, hold his finger guns tight to his chest and ask us to “cover me.”  The VP was beginning to get annoyed, aka JACKPOT!

Excuse me if being 32 years old and playing “tinker tailor finger gun soldier spy” with younger bros in public isn’t your cup of tea, but it IS my cup of tea.  As a matter of fact, I may go for seconds of that tea!  Aside from a few, subtle room-checks on the way to the bathroom, The G.T.B. took a bit of a reprieve from finger guns during dinner.  The bar afterwards, though? OH YOU BETTER BELIEVE WE WERE PACKIN’!

The VP and I went to one end of the bar to get a drink, but the other end must have been in peril because I looked up to see Archduke Brotherman and Matthew securing the perimeter.  Cue the “Oh-my-god-not-in-a-crowded-bar” face for the VP.  Sorry Babe, gotta have my guys back.  Finger guns came out because they had to, and yes, I was aiming them at strangers.  How else am I supposed to instill fear in tourists AND make the G.T.B. think I’m funny at the same time?!

The VP and her Mom went from kinda amused to annoyed to pissed to “FUCKING STOP JIMMY!” as the night progressed.  Lets just say the finger guns did not get much rest that night.  Whenever there was a lull in a conversation, finger guns.  Waiting for the bartender to make a drink? Finger guns.  Catch the eye of a fellow member of the G.T.B.? Finger guns.  I would like to proudly point out, however, that not ONE fake bullet was shot that night.  And that’s how you can distinguish a finger-gun special agent from an imposter.  Me and the rest of the G.T.B. were there to secure perimeters and laugh at how pissed off The VP was getting.  Did The VPs displeasure lead to a real-life couple fight? Almost…very very almost….and maybe kinda yes actually.  Security requires sacrifice.

*Please enjoy the following finger-gun photo shoot we held in the bar:

OUR WORLD:

Loyola-Chicago is in the Final Four and THAT’S WILD!  The thing that is most surprising to me, however, is that bars around the city have been getting JAMMED for these games.  If you don’t live in Chicago, let me try to explain what Loyola means to this city; nobody cares about Loyola in Chicago.  I used to drive by that school every day on my way to work and if you would’ve said “hey, that’s home to a major college basketball program” I would have grabbed you by the collar, pulled you close and rolled my eyes RIGHT IN YOUR DUMB-THING-SAYING FACE!

Yet, last week I was doing a bar event in some no-name suburb an hour outside the city and the place was slamming busy!  People who definitely didn’t go there for college were yelling at the screen during the game.  This is proof positive that Chicago (basically, Illinois, but it sounds better if I say Chicago) is a sports town.  What are the list of things you can use to identify whether a city is a good sports town? Here’s a quick guide to reference when wondering:

1)  Do people yell at the TVs during the game?

2)  Do stores immediately become stocked with t-shirts of the successful team?

3)  Has your Mom told you how excited she is about said team?

4)  Do bars put the sound for the game on and nobody complains?

5)  After a few months, do you notice that dogs have names corresponding to the team?

6)  Is your sister pretending that she has been a fan of the team for years and you’re like “no you weren’t”?

7)  Has your Dad mentioned that he is getting annoyed with the fake fans?

8)  It’s acceptable to get drunk on a weeknight if the team is playing.

I know I’m supposed to have 10 because that’s what most lists have, but this is my blog and I can do what I want so ENJOY THE EIGHT AND BACK OFF!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

If you don’t like Sister Jean, get away from me right this second.

sister jean

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When your wife’s 100,000 phone alarms goes off in the morning and she KEEPS HITTING SNOOZE SO YOU CAN’T GO BACK TO SLEEP BUT IT SEEMS LIKE SHE’S JUST HAPPY AS A CLAM!  (Just me?) 

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 6 for 8 this weekend because you can’t keep me down for long and I definitely got the hang of this whole gambling-on-the-tourney thing.  It’s pretty easy, actually.  The plan is to hold off this week unless a random game is looking extra tasty (EXTRA. TASTY!) and save my big money bets for The Final Four.  I look forward to bragging about my winnings.

(My account currently at $102.61…oh yeah, back in the triple digits nbd.)

 

Bad Boy Stuff and Weekend Warnings (3/23/18)

MY WORLD:

I got caught trying to sneak into a gym yesterday.  You see, sometimes when I have a work event at night, I’ll find a gym in the town of my event to get a good PUMP (treadmill run) in before.  Being the Frugal Fred that I am (cheapass), I have found a couple of “community fitness centers” that don’t have the most attentive front-desk staff.

The particular spot I went in yesterday, I had been to multiple times over the past year.  Normally, there’s an old guy at the front desk not paying attention.  So, instead of paying the $11 one-day fee, I walk like a BAWSS straight past the front desk and into the locker room.  The old guy probably just doesn’t care enough to stop me, but I’ve convinced myself that he admires a man who walks with purpose.  That’s me!  A man who walks with purpose…so he doesn’t have to pay $11.

Yesterday, however, there was a young girl at the front desk.  No matter, my BAWSS walk (Rick Ross voice BAWSS!) would dissuade her from stopping me.  Deep breath, long, border-line angry strides and I’m fre—“Excuse me, sir!”  Can’t be talking to me….”SIR! EXCUSE ME?!”  (cue my “uh-oh” face).  I turned around like she had just snapped me out of a dream.  “Oh, yeah? Hey?”

“Can I scan you in?”

“Oh…uh….I mean…”

This is where I pretended that my parents had just moved to the suburb and they had “told me I could work out here.”  Unfortunately, she then asked for my parents names and address.  (Just cut the lies, Jimmy!  Come clean! Now! Come clean!)  And because I’m really smart and quick on my feet, I told this TRYHARD BITCH (I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean that) that my I didn’t know their address because they just moved and “my memory is just blegh!”, and that my Dad’s name is Jim Pomerantz.

As she typed “Jim Pomerantz” into her local government issued supercomputer and asked for my ID, I remembered that the first time I went to this gym, I did sign in as a guest and gave my name as “Jim”.  That’s when she asked, with a furrowed brow, “have you been here before?”  I was caught.  But, guess what? I JUST KEPT LYING.

“No.”

“Hmm, cuz we have your name and address in here as having signed in as a guest before.”

“Not me.  That’s weird.”  I actually said that guys!  Like, someone with my EXACT NAME AND ADDRESS HAD ALSO SIGNED INTO THIS COMMUNITY GYM AS A GUEST ONE TIME!!!! If that doesn’t make you laugh, then I give up forever.

I ended up paying the guest fee and dominating a treadmill.  On my way out, instead of tucking my tail between my legs, I gave that TRYHARD BITCH! (sorry) a hearty “Thank You!”  She did not respond and I’m pretty sure my picture is up in their employee lounge now.

OUR WORLD:

Guys, it’s Friday!  Oh my goodness gracious we made it!  WE MADE IT GUYS!  As we gear up for what’s definitely going to be an all-timer of a weekend (is it? I don’t know.  Who cares?) I wanted to point something out that needs to be pointed out…movies lie to us.  But Jimmy, why would you bring that up today? Of all days? I’ll tell you why my sweet babies, because the weekends are when we act most like how we see people act in the movies.

You’ve been pent up at your jobs and in your houses (you don’t have a house, Jimmy.  An apartment counts!  Well then say apartment…) all week watching movies and shows when you have any free time, so your brain is ready to talk you into acting like that dude with the good hair.  Weekends are when you at least begin contemplating how you are “going to make a change!” Before you do so, I implore you to consult the following list of things that movies tell you to do, that you should NOT do:

-Don’t tell your crush, who already has a bf/gf/husband/wife, that you are in love with them.  This applies mostly to the single, under-27 crowd, but I extended it to the real dedicated “lets fuck a life up”-crew who are contemplating ruining a marriage to have their movie moment.  There were definitely a few times when I was single and under-27 that I was POSITIVE that my crush was just waiting for me to make some touching speech in the rain to break up with her boyfriend. Thankfully, I was always a bonified (more like ‘bonerfied’ lol omg) wuss in these situations and never went through with it (I can’t believe they never noticed me sulking near them in the bar.)  

What would actually happen if you went through on this kamikaze mission? The person you are confessing your feelings to will look at you like you’re an alien.  Like “uh, dude how many times did you watch The Notebook this week?” (I’M SORRY, I DIDN’T KNOW THERE WAS A LIMIT!!!)  They’ll probably start laughing early on in your “remember when you gave me that look”-speech, and possibly call their friends over to catch a glimpse of this death spiral.  (Holy shit girls! Dan’s doing his Notebook speech!  Get over here!)    It’ll be too late for you to pull the “just kidding” card, so you’re going to prove that you have follow through and try to finish your rehearsed plea.  It will only get worse.

The spouse will show up at some point, be it during or soon after this performance, and you haven’t prepared for that, have you?  What if he doesn’t find it sad-funny and is hell bent on smashing your face in?  You don’t fight.  You pretend like you can when you’re drunk, but it’s been years since your one sorta-real fight and it was TERRIFYING.  This situation is snowballing and now you’re in the hospital.

This “dream person” has put you in the friend zone for a reason, but you also have ZERO idea what this “dream person” is like in a relationship.  What if DreamGuy is into feet stuff and the fact that he has foot fungus doesn’t hold him back from asking you to suck his toes?  That could happen!  What if DreamGirl thinks hitting on your dad is the way to get on his good side? But then your Dad is like “I still got it” and tells your Mom, the one who bakes cookies, to “scram, Donna!” …and THEN DreamGirl is kinda like “wow, he just ended his marriage for me” so she goes along with it!  NOW YOUR DREAMGIRL IS BANGING YOUR DAD!

In the end, I just don’t want your friends to catch what happened on their iPhone cameras and then send it to you for the next 33 years whenever they “could use a good laugh.”

-Don’t “just let go” and, like, jump off a cliff or something.  Granted, I have not been on a cliff that I could jump off into the clear blue sea, but, like, who cares? Just go to a pool and don’t risk hurting yourself.  Have you ever heard a friend say “I went cliff diving” and thought he/she was cooler for doing so?  Nope, and that’s ALL they were hoping for when they did that.  A bunch of out of shape people do it, so it’s really not that impressive.  And I’m sure it’s not that fun and probably hurts your feet.

-Don’t drink your sorrows away and then get in a fight at the bar.  The sitch that movies portray go like this: sad, pissed off guy with nothing to lose drinks beers and shots alone at a dive bar.  The game is on and his team is losing because, of course.  He gets progressively drunker (but his hair still looks DYNAMITE) until a big ole sumbitch at the end of the bar says something disrespectful to a woman.  “Apologize to the lady!” leads to a confrontation.  This David v. Goliath confrontation goes one of two ways, 1) David is a secretly awesome fighter guy and hits Goliath with, like, a throat punch that cuts off Goliath’s air supply (v cool move) or 2) Goliath throws David out of the bar, but David is okay cuz he only got hit once and just has a black eye that will cause a hot babe to say “lets get some ice on that.”  This will not happen to you.

You will get hit so hard by Goliath that you’ll think you’re gonna die.  Actually, you may die.  Goliath may actually manslaughter you right there.  OR, you’ll throw a punch that lands, demolishes your hand (it hurts real bad…i know cuz i got in fights…whatever, guys…not that big of a deal…it was actually really stupid…i don’t want to talk about it…you could say i have a dark side…) and then you’re going to get arrested, cry in a jail cell, and get fired on Monday.

Speaking of your job…

-Don’t quit your job in dramatic, or really any, fashion.  Who hasn’t wanted to recreate the Jerry Maguire scene at their office?  (My office even has a goldfish with a box of big plastic bags next to it!)  

jerry maguire  

Sorry to break it to you, but the response you’re going to get is the HR person putting their hand on your shoulder and asking you to “go have a chat.”  In the middle of your big fuck-off speech, someone at the back of the office will take out their headphones and interrupt you with a “what’s happening? what’s he saying?”  It’ll ruin your entire flow, you’ll get flustered and accidentally prove that you’re not as good at public speaking as the job you have necessitates.  This, my friends, is called a backfire.  Even if you stop the “I HAVE PASSIONS I NEED TO EXPLORE!”-speech now, your boss is thinking that someone with such poor planning and public speaking skills isn’t the kind of employee they need right now.

-Don’t have a cigarette.  Do they look cool in the movies? UHHHH DOUBLE DUH!  What they forget to include after the cigarette is the: instant regret, crippling “Am-I-going-to-have-to-get-one-of-those-voice-box-things?”-fear, a hangover going from a 3 to an 11, and your mouth tasting like wet ass in the morning.

 

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Since I trust you, I want to let you in on a lil secret….Shawn Mendes is a blast-off-to-outer-space STAR.  He has a new song out that DADDY LIKEY!  Get in on it now.  (Also, funny to call him “Shawn Menses” when you’re trying to cut him down in front of your lady person.)

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you take your dog for a walk and she poops twice but you only brought one bag.  Somebody saw.  Somebody definitely saw you leave that there.

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:

Now, if you’ve been paying attention to jimmyschair, you know that sometimes I change my bets midday.  Thankfully, I did that yesterday.  The picks I put up on yesterday’s blog would have gone 0 for 4.  GOOD THING I EVALUATE THINGS AS THE DAY PROGRESSES CUZ I SWITCHED TWO OF MY BETS AND ENDED UP (basically) EVEN FOR THE DAY!

Tonight?  Can you just text me what you think because I am so lost with this tournament?  That would be a nice thing to do.

(My account currently at $24.21)

K bye.

Ideal Lollapalooza Line-Up and How I Got A Nickname (3/22/18)

OUR WORLD:

The lineup for Lollapalooza 2018 came out yesterday and, after looking it over, I broke into my best old-timey-Italian-chef accent and loudly proclaimed (alone, to myself, in my car) “Thissa issa Garbagio!”  If you’re not familiar with Lollapalooza, A) NERD! and B) it’s a big music festival in Chicago that was supposed to be about alternative rock bands and has somehow turned into a teenage grindfest set to robot music.  Now don’t get me wrong, Coach P (that’s me, FYI.  A nickname I will delve into in today’s “My World”.) loved himself a good grind sesh when he was in high school/college/right-after-college-when-I-was-real-drunk-and-in-Wrigleyville, but with age comes the realization that grinding in public is WEIRD and you suddenly feely amazingly uncomfortable around anyone doing it.  Like, “where are my eyes allowed to go?”-uncomfortable.  Me next to grinders = Giving an exaggerated eye-roll/head shake to signify to everyone around me that I’m not a creep, then definitely watching the grinders out of the corner of my eye because when people are having sex w/ clothes on next to you, YOU WATCH!  OKAY? IT’S FASCINATING!  AND YEAH, MAYBE I AM GETTING A LITTLE RUSH ON THE IDEA OF BEING CAUGHT WATCHING THEM!  I DON’T KNOW, I CAN’T EXPLAIN IT!  (oh I can explain it…I’m dat naughty boy.)  And now I have to go take a walk.  I feel shame.

So that’s why people my age can’t really go to Lollapalooza anymore, and it doesn’t help that lately, the Lolla (cool Chicago lingo) music booking people seem to ONLY book bands and headliners that appeal to not only grinders, but teenage grinders.  This is a no-fly-zone.  I can handle the drunk, 49 year-old just-divorced-guy grinding with the 41 year-old wino because it’s funny.  But, the teenage grinding is too young and too weird and like, legally, uncomfortable to be around.  Real talk, I feel like I could be arrested just for happening to stand next to teenage grinders (and I’m still not positive that’s NOT the case).  Even just writing about it…like, is this okay? (You’re understanding that I’m against it, right? Guys?)

Therefore, in an effort to avoid uncomfortable grinding situations, and potentially jail time, I would like to propose the 33 year-old’s perfect Lollapalooza lineup.  (I am 32 now, but will be 33 in August.  I wanted to point that out because The VP of Ops is 33 now and…so she’s older than me.  Just wanted to state, for the record, that The VP of Ops is older than I am.  Does that mean I’m a dirty dawg and she’s a cradle robbin’ nasty nancy? I don’t know.  That’s for you to decide.)  When creating this lineup, keep in mind: 1)  It is a one-day lineup only because 33 year olds can no longer enjoy RAGING on back-to-back days.  Can we do it? Of course we CAN, but the second day will be half-fun, half-holy-shit-this-hangover-is-gonna-kill-me.  2)  The bands/acts chosen can NOT appeal to the teenage grinding crew.  While I do like some younger pop acts (Khalid, nbd) I am not willing to risk jail time to see them perform.  3)  Bands will only play TWO SONGS MAX and will play at the time of day best suited for their talents and our mood.  Why only two songs? Because all of your fave bands have two songs that you LOVE and it’s always better to leave a show wanting more than pretending not to be bored with their new material.  Without further ado:

Noon-2PM:

*I will  say that the bands/songs I am choosing for these day-parts will not take ALL of the allotted time.  Deal with it and, you know what, enjoy it.  You’ll be able to go get all the beers and snacks you’d like without missing songs.  You’re welcome.

Dispatch plays “The General”–Dispatch only gets this song but they’ll play it twice because it kicks ass and I don’t know any of their other songs.  It’s a good song to start the day off because it’s about “taking a shower and shining your shoes” and THAT’S MORNING STUFF GUYS!  Shaking the cobwebs off and getting into that first beer.  No grinding in sight.  (Real talk, listening to Dispatch now and their second most popular song “Only the Wild Ones” is enchanting!  Am I getting into Dispatch before your very eyes?)

Counting Crows plays “Round Here” and then “Mr. Jones”–I know, I don’t like Adam Duritz’s hair either, but that doesn’t mean that these two songs aren’t solid daytime JAMS.  Slow, but not too slow.  Perfect sway in place music.  As Mr. Jones hits it’s crescendo, you’re gonna give your friends the “It’s so on!” look…

Bone Thugs-N-Harmony plays “The Crossroads” and then “1st of Tha Month”–Oh, it is SO ON!  Be careful not to stand next to the friend of yours who actually knows all of the words to these because you will be made to feel inadequate.  My move with Bone Thugs? Look down wit’ my hands up during the verses only to pop up like a friggin jack-in-the-box for “MEET ME AT THE CROSSROADS, CROSSROADS!”  A little hippity hoppity has completely OBLITERATED any remaining early-day cobwebs.  We’re outside and having fun!

2PM-6PM:

Outkast plays “Ms. Jackson” and then “So Fresh, So Clean”–You have entered the midday party rap jam zone and it. feels. right.  VP of Ops will have a consistent “I’m-smiling-as-big-as-I-can”-face throughout the duration of this zone.  Again, another time when your cool friend is going to know more than just the “for eva eva?” words, but they’re gonna be nice about it.  Get ready for a lot of pointing at your spouse when Outkast sings “I’m sorry Ms. Jackson!”  Guess what? WE’RE ALL MS. JACKSON TODAY!

Bloc Party plays “This Modern Love” and then “Banquet”–You may not know this band off the top of your head, but they had a moment in the early 2000s where we all liked them mucho.  Put these songs on and you’ll definitely say “Oh, I remember this!” to yourself.  Pop-rock that plays before it’s dark is what is needed now and Bloc Party is here for you.  It’s fun! It’s sweet! It’s light! Whoa, it’s picking up some! AND YOU CANNOT GRIND TO THIS!

Girl Talk plays “Play Your Part (Pt. 1)” and then “Shut The Club Down”–This is as close to robot music as we’ll get, but don’t worry, it’s not true robot music.  Remember when Girl Talk was super awesome for like 2 months?  The mash-up master of all the songs we liked when we were younger is exactly what this doctor ordered.  Can’t have him play too late because these songs mixed with darkness = “lets-make-regrettable-decisions!” for people in their early 30s.

MGMT plays “Kids” and then “Electric Feel”–If you still don’t get excited when these songs come on the radio, do me a favor, mmmkay? Pack your shit and move to Russia cuz you, my not-friend, are up to NO GOOD.  I don’t know what happened to this band after this album, but it doesn’t matter.  Shooting stars shine brightest and burn out super fast or whatever the fuck that saying is.  These two songs are FOREVER JAMS and the perfect entry point to dusk.  Sun has begun to go down a little bit…we’ve come off the high of Girl Talk, but we’re still riding the feel-good waves.

6PM-8PM:

Kings of Leon plays “Closer” and then “Use Somebody”–God, I loved this album.  As the sun starts to set, it’s time for kinda’ ominous guitars and gravely voices.  Uh…check and check!  “Use Somebody” is an all-time anthem that, while overplayed, I still sing outloud in my car EVERY time it comes on.  Hot tip when doing that: do NOT lower the volume to see if you “actually kinda’ sound like the lead singer”…you don’t, and that realization is going to lower your self-esteem.

Green Day plays “When I Come Around” and then “Basket Case”–Before Billie Joe put on too much eye make-up and got sober, they were an absolute good-vibes-hit factory.  Now, you could argue that these two slammers off “Dookie” are better daytime jams.  My rebuttal?  As the sun goes down, we can’t just listen to ominous rock songs one after the next.  Gotta break it up with some party vibes.  Enter Green Day.  (This was one of the first CDs I ever bought when I was younger, and I remember my Mom asking me what “Dookie” meant.  It’s pooh, Mom.  Dookie is pooh.)

My Morning Jacket plays “One Big Holiday” and then “Gideon”–It’s getting dark outside, guys! That means we’re seeing some cool light shows (not too techno-y though…don’t wanna attract grinders) and GIMME THAT MY MORNING JACKET VOICE!  Kinda singing, kinda yelling, with big hair and a big beard….I NEED IT!  “One Big Holiday” is our energetic goodbye to the sun (LOVE YOU SUN!) and “Gideon” slowly…cautiously…opens the doors to the night…welcome to the darkness, my friends.

8PM-WHENEVER:

Queens of the Stone Age plays “You Think I Ain’t Worth A Dollar,But I Feel Like A Millionaire” and then “Go With The Flow”–Kick that fucking nighttime door down!  Darkness and Josh Homme’s rockin-ass voice means one thing for Coach P: head-banging.  This is the part of the night I forget that The VP of Ops is standing next to me as I head bang my way through every second of these songs.  I will not move the hair out of my face cuz I’m trying to feel like the rockstar that I am not (but like…I kinda look, like it right?)  The VP will roll her eyes, tell me to push my hair back and then get kinda-actually-mad when I tell her to leave me alone.  Can’t wait!

Radiohead plays “Myxomatosis” and then “I Might Be Wrong”–This band was made to only be listened to at night.  Your energy may be waning, and this is that cool not-too-fast-not-too-slow spooky rock you are craving.  I like how weird Thom Yorke looks and acts on stage.  Seriously, the weirder the better.  This will be a continuation of me pissing of The VP of Ops when I kinda’ do my Thom Yorke impression by flailing my arms around and shaking like I’m being electrocuted.  Oh, also “I Might Be Wrong” has my favorite opening instrumental part of any rock song ever.  It goes like “boom doom boom doom doom”-you know what just listen to it.  K.

Jay-Z and Kanye play the entire “Watch The Throne” album–You thought you were done getting hyphy?!?!? (I don’t really know exactly what that word means, but it sounds right). This album is blue flames hot hot hot and anytime I hear it, it’s like the first time.  EVERYONE IN THE UNIVERSE LOVES THIS ALBUM.  There will be cool lights, weird floaty stage things cuz of Kanye and The VP of Ops will do the scrunch-face thing that makes her look tough and cool at the same time.  I will probably try to do some sort of sway dance moves that I’m not young enough to pull off, but I. WILL. NOT. CARE.

Who wants to start a letter campaign with me to get Lollapalooza to actually run this lineup?  No?  Okay, just meet the VP and I at our apartment on Lolla-day this year cuz I will be playing this lineup LOUD.  (Can you bring some Rose’? Thanks!) 

MY WORLD:

Some of my friends call me “Coach P” and it’s probably my favorite thing in the world.  You wanna see me light up like a rich man’s Christmas tree? Call me “Coach”.  How did I get such a baller bad boy nickname? I kinda’ forced it.  Those people that say you can’t force a nickname, I would like to introduce you to my nutz cuz I JUST DUNKED ON YOU!  (Both my mother and my mother-in-law read this and I do not feel good about writing the nutz thing.  Sorry ladies.  ‘Member when I did the dishes after Christmas dinner?)

A few years back, I talked my friends into joining the VP of Ops and I at a divey bowling alley called “Fireside”.  It’s in the movie “The Break-Up” if that helps.  If not, imagine your favorite dive bar has the bowling alley from “The Big Lebowski” behind it.  Yeah, it’s pretty effin’ sweet.

I was in my chubbo phase, so I dressed extra dad-like to play off my appearance as a joke.  “Fat? Guys, it’s a joke!”

*Real tip: if you’re getting bigger, start dressing worse.  If you buy cool, bigger clothes your friends are just going to notice that you’re wider.  If you start wearing kinda funny, out-of-style clothes, your friends will just make fun of you for being a bad dresser, but you’ll act like you do it cuz it’s funny.  It will piss off your spouse, but “it’s called a joke, ever heard of it!?!?!”

So, wearing loose khakis and probably a dope quarter-zip, I kinda took on this “Coach-like” character at the bowling lanes.  I was drinking vodka out of a clear plastic cup because I WAS WATCHING MY WEIGHT and “Fireside” serves everything in clear plastic cups.  Being awful at bowling, I figured I should give The VP of Ops very gruff, pointed tips on how she could be better.  I would use this gravely voice and huff and puff around acting like her gutter-balls were actually disappointing me.  I was the old man bowling coach who lived above the lanes and only drank cheap vodka.  My “lessons” included yelling “Roll the ball!” and “Again!” at The VP of Ops.  She did not find this character as humorous as I did.

Thankfully, my comedic-genius of a friend, Jamie, started calling me “Coach P” during this routine and IT STUCK LIKE WHEN YOU WEAR A SHIRT OUT OF THE DRYER BUT YOU FORGOT TO PUT THE DRYER SHEET IN WHEN YOU STARTED THE DRYER.  Now, did me correcting everyone to only call me “Coach P” for the rest of the night have something to do with it sticking? Listen, I’m not a judge.  Okay? I’m not a judge.  I’m a coach.

Coach P.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

There’s an ad at the beginning, but it’s worth it. (If you are my parent or a parent of The VP of Ops…maybe skip this?)

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This is the type of robot music that plays at Lollapalooza now as everyone grinds and makes the older people stay in the back.  I can listen to this when I work out (yeah, I work  out.  Whatever.) But, I’m not listening to this in public at a rave.  I just can’t.  Also, as I played this song on my computer’s speakers, Belle made an audible “can you turn that off now?”-sound.

 

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:

Guess what haters? I WON MY BET LAST NIGHT!!!  To all of you who told me that “maybe gambling isn’t for you” or “do you really have enough disposable income to do this?” SHUT UP.  Bet it feels bad to be such a stupid idiot!  I just, can’t believe that people actually doubted my gambling abilities.  Why do we fall down?  To get back up!  Well, I’m up and I’m ready to carry you all the way to the bank!  No better way to re-enter into NCAA Tourney picks than this.  You feeling great? I’M FEELING GREAT!  Give me Nevada, Texas A&M, Kentucky and Gonzaga tonight.  Hope you like getting rich.

(My account currently at $40.71)

K bye.

 

Sunday TV Binge Shows and Why Angry Wives Are So Funny (3-19-18)

OUR WORLD:

Yesterday was a day of rest for The VP of Ops and I.  Perched in our assigned living room spots, me on my chair (it’s a real thing, this chair, and we’ve developed feelings…real feelings) and The VP on our couch.  (While I love my chair, I will say that not being able to lay sideways on days like yesterday is something I never planned for when claiming my spot as the chair.  This was a slight miscalculation on my part, but I have learned from it and plan to revisit the “assigned seat” negotiating table once we buy our next couch.)  

Aside from the occasional “you okay?”-head tilt towards the other, we were busy dealing with our own Post-St. Patty’s-Day-issues.  Self talk (breathe Jimmy.  Wait…that’s not how breathing works!  HOW DOES BREATHING WORK!?!?!) and awkward positions on your assigned living room seat is what Sundays like this are all about.  How many times did you get kinda excited and think “I’m actually not that bad!” only to get up and have your brain start smashing the eject button from inside your skull.  Zero? Yeah, me too.  Cool cool coolio!

Anyways, we’ve all been here and aside from ordering food that’s not going to taste as good as you think it’s going to, binge watching television shows is the only tonic.  For us, yesterday was “Peaky Blinders” all day, and it got me thinking…what are the best “Sleepy Sunday” binge-worthy tv shows?  *This list is not BEST TV shows, it’s shows that have the ability to soothe your hangover.  Maybe you’ve watched them before, but that’s okay, these shows are like your blankie or dirty old stuffed animal rabbit that you got when you were born and still sleep with (hand up).  

Lets call this our “Top Sleepy Ti Ti Shows” (you know, cuz you’re sleepy and tired…SLEEPY TI TI!):

  1.  The Office:  Number one with a bullet.  Do I even have to say it’s the American version?  I remember when news hit that they were making an American version of “The Office” and I was such a snooty film-school dick about it.  “No way it can recreate the subtle moments the way Ricky Gervais did!”  Pssshaw!  This, my friends, is called a “wrong take”.  Steve Carrell as Michael Scott is the best television character of all time (mean this a billion percent) and getting to watch the prime of this character is the chicken noodle soup of television.  You know what it’s going to be, yet, somehow, you still love every second of it.  (What an analogy!!! Hey! Let’s add that as a section!  YOU’RE DOING IT!).  *FOOD ANALOGY = CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP
  2. The O.C.:  I just wrote and then deleted the following…”I’m not even embarrassed about this pick.”  That means I’m embarrassed about this pick.  I blame The VP of Ops and her powerful influence over my brain for this but let me say this fellas: you watched the first couple seasons of this show when it first came out, and you loved it.  DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME!  NOT TODAY! NOT ON JIMMYSCHAIR!  This show holds up better than you think it does.  Seth is still funny.  Rachel Bilson is still a babe (see guys? that’s a cool-dude thing to say.  Babes.)  And Ryan still pulls off the white tank look even though, according to all your research, that is not possible.  Remember that super simple sandwich that was your favorite as a kid?  You haven’t had one since you were 11.  This show is like that sandwich.  Try making one, I bet you’ll remember why you loved it.  *FOOD ANALOGY = SALAMI SANDWICH ON WHITE WONDER BREAD
  3. Parks and Rec:  A close cousin to “The Office” for sure, but why should we hold that against this show?  I feel like every time I bring this show up, there’s kind of a “yeah, but it’s not The Office”-cloud over it.  It’s not “The Office”, but it’s almost as funny.  Fat Chris Pratt > Jurassic World Chris Pratt.  Can someone get Chris Pratt out of the gym because he was well on his way to being a comedy megastar.  He’s fine as an action dude, but I like comedies more than action movies so…DO WHAT I SAY!  Andy Dwyer is new-age Chris Farley and Nick Offerman as Ron Swanson makes you want to grow a mustache and be surly to all your co-workers.  This show is a good chip.  It’s not KING CHIP.  It might be the same brand as KING CHIP, but it’s a different flavor.  *FOOD ANALOGY = BUFFALO BLEU KETTLE CHIP’S
  4. Friday Night Lights:  Binging dramas can be difficult.  This show would be higher on just a list of favorite shows of all-time, but it still places as rewatchable because Coach Taylor is my idol.  I don’t even say that as a joke anymore.  When we first watched it, I’d say “I wanna be Coach Taylor” to the VP with like a smirk.  Like, I was sending that thought out as a trial balloon.  But with distance, comes perspective and I think I actually want to become the fictional coach from “Friday Night Lights”.  I would like to coach High School football in Texas.  Did I play? I mean, not really, but…I like football a WHOLE BUNCH!  Guys, A WHOLE BUNCH!  Also, I think I can pull off the gruff, kinda moody, kinda nice, kinda mean, but..oh wait…he’s tough too-type of persona.  Also, not to brag, but I pull off mid-length socks and khaki shorts like I was born in ’em.  This show is truly aspirational much the way a complicated rice dish is.  Much the way I think I could actually become Coach Taylor, you think you won’t fuck up the rice in that complicated, yet delicious looking rice-based dish.  You will fuck up the rice.  *FOOD ANALOGY = COMPLICATED RICE-BASED DISH
  5. Arrested Development:  The new seasons on Netflix don’t count.  Seriously, do not tell me that “they’re actually pretty good”.  I don’t believe you and I don’t care.  The original first 3 seasons of this show are so damn smart and funny that they’re all that matters here.  Cool thing about binging this show is that you can get through those first 3 seasons in a reasonable amount of time.  It’s not going to take your life over.  The most fun debate to have about this show is to ask your friends who their fave character is.  The easy answer is Gob, but guess what? THAT DOESN’T MEAN IT’S WRONG!  Jesus H, I’m so tired of trying to sound smarter than I actually am and picking someone other than Gob for fave character.  “You see, the thing with George Michael that everyone overlooks is-“SHUT UP JIMMY!  It’s Gob.  Convo over.  You’re not that smart.  I’m aware you can make the case for Tobias, but uhhhhhhh NO.  And if you even bring Michael into this arena you will be hanged at the behest of the king (me.  I’m the king here.  King Chair).  This show is so damn funny and I’ve seen it so many times, but I still find little moments that I missed.  It’s like ordering trying a new item or condiment from a fast food restaurant you go to all the time…and being impressed with it.  *FOOD ANALOGY = MCDONALD’S BUFFALO SAUCE (my new KING SAUCE for Chicken Nuggy’s.  Game changer, guys.  Game changer.)

That’s the list.

MY WORLD:

I shaved my facial hair into a mustache this weekend because getting under The VP of Ops’ skin is really fun for me.  That was the reason.  I don’t think it looks good.  In fact, I know it does not look good, and I’m not secure enough to try to convince people that I don’t care about that (although, I DEFINITELY did that this weekend.  I got a few “it actually doesn’t look that bad”s from friends and I lied when I responded “dude, I don’t even care.  I just think it’s funny.”  I cared.  I care.)  

stache*not gonna lie, shades and stache are a solid combo

I did this a few weeks back when The VP of Ops was out of town for the weekend and my brother thought it was funny.  That was fun.  When the VP got back in town, she recoiled at the sight of me and my stache.  I ended up shaving it before going into work that Monday because I was nervous about having to act like debuting a mustache wasn’t a big deal to me.  (Oh this thing? God, I totally forgot I even had it.  I don’t know..just felt like it.  How do I think it looks?  I don’t even care.)  I’m so not that guy.  (DAMNIT!  CAN I PLEASE BE THAT GUY SOMEDAY? GOD? PLEASE!  I WANNA BE THE “WHATEVER” GUY!  THEY’RE SO COOL!  NOTHING BOTHERS THEM!  THEY JUST SAY “WHATEVER” AND SMOKE ANOTHER CIGARETTE!)  I am, unfortunately for The VP of Ops, the “This Pisses My Wife Off, So It’s Hilarious”-guy.

It’s why I tie light jackets around my waist in the fall and early spring.  Is it comfortable and convenient? Yes, of course.  But, it also causes The VP to give me the side-eye and whisper something to me like “really? You’re really doing that in public next to me?”  Uh….yeah babe!  I’m doing this to you in public.  (I like to laugh!  So sue me!) It’s why I wear sunglasses that are like a 4 on the looks scale.  Do I want to buy cool-guy shades from a designer that my hipster brother told me about? Yes.  But then The VP wouldn’t be moderately embarrassed to introduce me-wearing my gas station hotboi shades-to a friend of hers I’d yet to meet.  WHERE’S THE FUN IN THAT?!?!

Now, because I am having so much fun thinking of all the times I have done something with the primary goal being to make The VP of Ops uncomfortable/mad/embarassed at me..I will be debuting a new section to my Monday blogs from here on out.  The section will be called “The Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The Vp of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable”.  Look forward to a full-on story next Monday and many Monday’s from here on out.  In the meantime, I look forward to brainstorming new ways to accomplish this…cuz there are like a lot of Monday’s in the future of the world AND I GOTTA GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to run through a brick wall right about now.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I just hate this fucking song.  Remember when it was super popular?  What the fuck was that all about?

 

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’m not going to lie to you guys, this NCAA tournament has been an unmitigated disaster for my gambling account and…life.  Like, the amount of new deposits I’ve made into this account are nearing the “is this actually impacting my life”-zone.  It’s scary and kind of invigorating all at the same time.  I am saving my remaining balance, however, for this Thursday’s games when the tourney returns.  That’s the plan at least…stay tuned.

(My account currently at $28.21)

K bye.

The Early 30s St. Patrick’s Day

OUR WORLD:

St. Patrick’s Day is tomorrow, Saturday, and Chicagoans in their early 30s have decided, unanimously, that they are okay with watching the world pass them by.  Miller Lite sunglasses that you got for free 6 years ago, your only green shirt that’s kinda too tight, a group e-mail chain organizing a trolley and arguing over who is paying who for the 19 handles of Fireball?  We’re too old for this shit, guys.  Green beer? Kids.  Wrigleyville? Bros? UH, NO THANKS!  Maybe we’ll go grab a beer, but we’re past the days of car-bomb breakfasts.  How about us, huh? We just don’t need it.  Sure, we’re old.  Hey, now that we’re 32, we have other interests that bring me more joy and no hangover.  Hey bros, try a game night while sipping a few well made sessionable pale ales!  Hops? No, I’m not talking about “What Lebron’s still got”.  Idiots.

Now go to your tiny bathroom, look in the mirror and ask yourself the following question: but, what if?  Let it linger.  What if you, not just you, what if WE let go of our defense mechanisms, ignored how self conscience and jaded we have become and tried to smile again? Go ahead and smile in the mirror.  YOU KNOW I’M SUCH A FOOL FOR YOU.  YOU’VE GOT ME WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGERRRR A-UH-UH. DO YOU HAVE TO LET IT LINGER? DO YOU HAVE TO? DO YOU HAVE TO? DO YOU HAVE TO LET IT LINGER?  Guys, lets grab that kinda-too-small green tee for one last dance.

Send out a text to your friends asking what everyone is doing for St. Patty’s tomorrow.  It’s okay, you can cut it with a little joke like “don’t worry, I’ll get the Fireball handle.  Lol.”  Haha…but you’re kinda hoping they don’t laugh.  And maybe, just maybe, they won’t.  Maybe they’ll chuckle at first and send something back like “Omg. Can you even imagine?”  But that’s the thing, you can imagine.  And they can too.  That’s when someone, YOU! needs to send the “I mean, why not?”-text.  (EXPLOSION SOUNDS)

“Honey, Jimmy, you know that friend of mine who can wear anything because he makes everything look good?”

“Oh, I like him.  He’s fun.”

“Yeah, well he just texted ‘why not?”

“About…no! Not about-”

“St. Patrick’s Day.  Yeah.”

In our story, you can be Jimmy.  You can be the person to send the text that causes couples to look at each other in silence for 8 seconds before the fun one says “I mean, it’s not like we have anything else to do.”  And so it begins.  You don’t have plans on Sunday, so hangover recovery will take precedence and the weather is supposed to be shitty Sunday anyways, so it’s not like you’re wasting a day.  And look, even if the hangover lasts into Monday, I mean, it’s Monday! You’ll be back up to speed by Tuesday at the latest.  “Why not?” turns to “what if?” turns to “I’ll make green jello shots.”  Guards begin to lower their rifles and friends start tossing out their favorite St. Patrick’s Day “remember when?”-texts.  Momentum has built and the only turning back that’s happening now is happening to your clocks.  (Did you get that? Like a “turn back the clocks” joke.  It sounded good in my head, but I’m not sure it translated.  Is explaining it helping?)

It’s too late to get a trolley and, honestly, that’s for the best (wait, you know about a last-minute deal?)  Trolley’s are too risky on St. Pat’s because it may be cold and you don’t wanna have to cover up that hot tee with a puffy coat all day (GET OFF ME PUFF!)  What we, you?…no, we, what we should do is meet at a the friend’s place who has the nicest outdoor area.  If it is warm, you’re gonna wanna bag those early spring rays.  So you meet at Davey Big Deck’s place around 11am.  Not too early, but day drinking is fun and this may be your last dance so…MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?

Start off with some smiles and “it’s really happening!”-embraces.  The excitement of this unexpected gathering will intoxicate most guests immediately upon arrival.  Pour yourself a bloody in a red plastic cup, and you know what? I’ll have one too!  Someone probably brought candied bacon for the bloody’s (perks of being over 30 is that people put effort into things like bacon!)  Tunes are playing on Davey Big Deck’s nice speakers and, wait! What’s that sound?!?!  THAT’S NELLY Y’ALL!  HOT SHIT!!!  YOU CAN FIND ME IN ST. LOUIS ROLLIN’ ON DUBS!

Mean mugs and shoulder shrugs are aplenty as we move from Bloody’s to Lite’s to Guinness to…MARK BROUGHT FIREBALL!  NCAA tourney games play on Davey Big Deck’s dope ass big tv that’s way better than yours but today isn’t a day for jealousy but FUCK I’M JEALOUS.  I ADMIT IT, I’M JEALOUS!  You’ll get together with a few buds and determine that the only way to win a 6 team moneyline parlay is to place the bet four solo-cup drinks deep and pick the teams on “gut feelings”-only.  Making money is easy, guys.

I won’t lie, there will be some adversity.  A couple will have a not-as-muted-as-they-think fight in a corner.  Bill will appoint himself DJ a few hours in to play his favorite Doo-Wop songs and everyone will wonder who has the stones to tell him Doo-Wop STINKS AND IS KILLING THE FUCKING MOOD!  You’ll probably need to order the food yourself and, jeez, that’s always scary trying to Venmo-collect from everyone afterwards, but today is a day of risk taking so let ‘er rip!

When you get the pizza from the delivery driver, you should announce to the room “DID SOMEBODY SAY PIZZA?!?!”  They didn’t, but they’ll cheer and you’ll get slapped on the back.  It’s nicer than expected outside, guys!  I don’t have to wear my coat! (you’ll get cold pretty quick, but this is the time you pretend it’s not that cold).  

I will leave you there because this is not just my story…this is our story and we can all write our own endings to that simple question you’re gonna ask yourself in tomorrow’s morning mirror: “What if?”

MY WORLD:

I’m in a really good mood right now because I listened to “Linger” by The Cranberries and “Country Grammar” by Nellie on repeat for the past couple hours.  LET’S HAVE A FUCKING FRIDAY PEOPLE!!!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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: 

Yesterday was a dark, dark day where I went 1-10 on games I put money on.  I’m not here to talk about the past.  However, I am staying dark due to me thinking that this blog is cursing my gambling….AW SCREW IT, LET’S HAMMER PROVIDENCE!

(My account currently at $55.17)

K bye.