Category: restaurant

Stripper Prank and “Isle of Dogs” Review (4/11/18)

MY WORLD:  

Last week, I put this picture up on Instagram of an all-male Australian stripper group (we’re dancers, Jimmy!  We dance!) named “Thunder from Down Under”.

Thunder-300x210

At first blush, this seems like your typical Australian stripper group promo photo (you know, just like all the rest that we all see in our normal everyday lives…guys?…hello?)  However, upon closer examination (I’m not blushing!  Stop! Omg guys! Stop!), one of these no-doubt WILDLY TALENTED ENTERTAINERS, the second one from the right to be exact, bears a striking resemblance to…

Image-1

ME!  THAT DUDE’S FACE LOOKS LIKE ME!  I understand you not picking this up at first glance on account of his rather scrawny arms and the lack of photogenic charisma that I exude in every photo…but, the face DEF kinda’ looks like me.  (Nobody make a joke about how my jawline is nowhere near as chiseled as his…I’M WORKING ON IT!)  

Why am I choosing to talk about this now? I’m glad you asked; these pictures were sent to me early on in my relationship with The VP of Ops and are the focal point of today’s edition of “A Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The VP of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable”.  Let’s take a trip back to the fall of 2013.

The VP of Ops and I were about 4 months into THE GREATEST LOVE SHE WILL EVER KNOW!  Actually, she had just recently accepted the fact that we were dating and I was her “boyfriend” after 3.5 months of getting mad at me anytime I referred to our “relationship” (This is real btw…for like 3+ months she refused to admit that we were in a relationship.  Stressful?  THAT’S GONNA BE A YES, DAWG!)  Anyway, it was a Friday night and I was chillin’ wit’ my main bros (cool guy talk) at the apartment we shared.  The VP was at a friend of hers and I was definitely not secretly worried that she was hanging out with work-friend Mike because I was ALWAYS secure in our relationship.  Did I LOVE that work-friend Mike wore a gold chain and talked about all the women he had been with?  Look, I’m not here to talk about the past (fuck work-friend Mike…)  

So there I am, hanging with my good friend Angry Dave (because he gets angry and it’s kinda funny but kinda serious at the same time!) and definitely not stewing about The VP and work-friend Mike.  Probably after our third beer of the early evening (cool guy stuff cont.) I got a text OUT OF THE BLUE from an old friend-girl.  Her name is something like Meghan or CouldNeverGetOverJimmyAndHisInfectiousPersonality, I can’t remember; but she texted me a picture…THE picture.  She was in the Las Vegas airport and noticed a picture of hot guys so, naturally, she gave it a closer look.  Upon said inspection, she noticed that one of the strapping Aussies looked like me and HAD to text me about it.

I showed Angry Dave the texts and after a few laughs and chest bumps and jamo shots (cool. guy. stuff. overload.) Angry Dave came up with a FANTASTIC idea.  “You should send  picture to The VP and just not say anything!”  [EXPLOSION SOUNDS]  However, because hanging out with guy friends means that you always need to one-up the last one’s joke, I decided to go a little further…and try to convince The VP that the picture was part of my dark past that I had yet to have to courage to fully explain to her.  Like giddy little giddy-babies, Angry Dave and I huddled around my cellular telephone device.

God, I wish I saved the following texts, but the first one I sent to The VP that night, was along the lines of “Hey…Can we talk?  Something has been eating away at me…”  It took her like 4 minutes to respond, probably because she LOVED playing text games, but she finally shot back:

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, there’s just something I’ve been embarrassed about telling you for a while.”

[after her customary 4 minute wait] “What is it?”

“It’s really not THAT bad, but please don’t laugh…”  And then I sent the picture.  First, of the whole group, and then of the close-up of AussieJimmy.

“No way.”

“It was when I was in L.A. and I only did it for a little while, but…yeah.  I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I was embarrassed and I didn’t know how to bring it up.  Just had to get it out.”

(WAIT)

“I’m so sorry.”

“Really…I’m so sorry.  I really care about you and don’t want this to get in the way.”

And with that, I effectively ruined The VP’s Friday night.  At this point, Angry Dave and I were howling laughing; like, the kind of laughing where we were running in place while re-reading the text exchange over and over and over again.  The VP had gone dark.  She was at her girlfriend’s place and, years later, she told me that her girlfriend was telling her that she had to break up with me.  Evidently, dating a fake-Australian stripper was something that The VP’s reputation couldn’t withstand.  The VP says she wasn’t crying, but was kinda’ close and very confused.  She’ll tell you now that she thought it was “probably a joke,” but you don’t go dark on texts the way she did that night if you think it’s a prank.

I imagine she got the texts, started laughing and then showed her girlfriend. Once her girlfriend saw, and my subsequent “I’m so sorry” texts came through, she probably tried to force more laughter, but her friend noticed The VP’s eyes were welling up with tears.  Her friend probably said something like “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay.”  The VP then shook her head and wiped away her tears while saying “it’s so stupid, I don’t even know why I’m crying!  I’m sure he’s joking.  I’m sure he’s joking.”  Then, she got the next couple “I’m so sorry texts” and probably started discussing realistic next steps with her friend.  I’m POSITIVE she said “You’re right.  I have to break up with him” during her text-blackout.

Now, I’m not going to lie (because I’m honest to my good good friends) there were times during this 45-minute text-blackout that I almost sent a “jk lol omg” text.  We were an established relationship at this point, but she did possess about 97% of the power in this relationship, so this was a risky move.  Angry Dave was a calming influence; telling me to “stay the course” every time he saw me get quiet and slowly raise my phone into proper text-message position.  “Not yet!”-he would say.  I adhered because it WAS funny and…he was bigger than me and I didn’t want him to get Angry  (quick sidenote: Angry Dave now dates Mean Allie.  It’s the most perfectly terrifying combination in the history of couples…and Mean Allie is gonna be SO MAD about her nickname that guess what kind of text I’ll get from her later today? A mean one.)

At about minute 46 of this standoff, I called The VP.  She let it ring like 7 times because that’s what the moment called for, and then answered with a scared “Hey…”  I told her that I was joking.  Angry Dave was kinda’ annoyed that I didn’t let it last until the morning, but not full-on Angry, so I was safe.  The VP laughed it off like she was never worried, but she was…oh, she most definitely was.  Then she hung up and went back to hanging out with her girlfriend.  And I went back to hanging out with Angry Dave, but only thinking about how work-friend Mike may be meeting up with The VP later WITH HIS STUPID FUCKING GOLD CHAIN AND GELLED-UP HAIR.

OUR WORLD:

Last night, The VP and I saw “Isle of Dogs”.  We had wanted to see “A Quiet Place”, but it was sold out.  Was I secretly relieved that “A Quiet Place” was sold-out because it looks scary and I don’t like scary movies? You better believe it buddy!  Plus, “Isle of Dogs” had an awesome trailer and I liked the last Wes Anderson movie about the hipsters in the hotel.  (Googling the actual name of the Hipster Hotel movie…) “The Grand Budapest Hotel”.

“Isle of Dogs” was the definition of cute, but nothing more.  The animation visuals were interesting, but movies are all about story (film-school grad talk) and this story did not have enough surprises to hold my interest.  The easiest test for whether you actually enjoy a movie is to go see one on a Tuesday night at 8PM.  If you find yourself getting excited about going home to get to bed at any point during the movie, it’s not a great flick.  About 40 minutes in to “Isle of Dogs” I was marinating in extended yawns and trying to remember where I left my sleep sweatpants.

It wasn’t bad, but you spend half the movie in your head trying to figure out what celeb is the voice of what dog.  The laughs in the movie were never full-blown guttural laughs, but more soft chuckles.  And, the twists were pretty expected and underwhelming.  I know it was animated, but I figured that Wes Anderson wouldn’t make me feel like I was watching a kids movie (I’M A MAN!)  Unfortunately, I kinda’ felt like I was watching a kids movie with a bunch of adults who settled on this movie only after finding out that “A Quiet Place” was sold out.

Best part of the experience? The trailer for this summer’s Mr. Roger’s documentary “Won’t You Be My Neighbor”.  Loved this show as a kid and thought about how much better of a person I should be when watching this trailer.  Can’t wait!

Worst part of the experience? The overwhelming fake butter smell coming from The VP’s DRENCHED bag of popcorn.

Best part of the movie? Ed Norton voicing a nerdy dog.  How has he not been in a live-action fantastic movie lately?  GET ON IT, HOLLYWOOD!

Worst part of the movie? A second act that dragged on about 12 minutes too long.  Yawn-o-rama.

My official review? I’m going to give it 6.5 out of 10 Chairs.  (If somebody knows how to insert chair graphics and wants to do it for me, let me know!)

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I may have posted this before, but I don’t care.  I can’t remember the last time I was more excited for a documentary.  GIVE ME JUNE NOW!

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Sarah Huckabee Sanders and her “I’m never not annoyed with everything and everyone”-face.  Ugh.

 

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 still basking in the glow of my big Masters win.  I’m guessing I’ll get back into the gambling ring tomorrow night when I have a work event at a bar in front of TVs.  Starting to think NBA playoffs and…am I the only one who things Milwaukee could upset the Sixers in round one?  The Sixers are becoming the classic overhyped underdog team that will lose early.

(My account currently at $256.83)

K bye.

At Least You Don’t Have These Jobs and Tommy Boy Lines (4/9/18)

OUR WORLD:

It seems that I’m running into a bit of a traffic jam on jimmyschair.  It being Monday, I’m ready to continue the “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job List–that I started last week.    However, I also had delayed the “Vanderpump Rules” induction into the jimmyschair Reality TV Show Hall of Fame.  PLANNING JIMMY, TRY IT SOMETIME!!! (Readers must be getting restless.  Are they beginning to think about NOT reading this blog?! ARE THEY GONNA GO BACK TO SCROLLING THROUGH FACEBOOK WHILE ON THE TOILET?!?!?)  Fear not–people who probably were not fearing cuz they don’t really care!  I have decided that today’s “Our World” will be the second edition of the “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job List.  Tomorrow, after what’s sure to be an electric episode tonight, “Vanderpump Rules” heads to the hall of fame.

With snow falling, and me dealing with having had a martini probably a little too late last night, I need this list more than ever (Sunday ‘tini time is fun because you’re playing with fire after 8PM.  Sunday “‘Tini Time” Jimmy is undefeated versus Monday “Get Ready for Work” Jimmy.  Monday Jimmy is weak and fragile like an old lightbulb.)  Last week, meter maids, construction workers and Starbucks barista’s were the jobs that made me feel better about starting the week off.    This week, I’ve got some real gems:

–Entry-Level Personal Trainers:  There have got to be no less than fifteen thousand trillion people who like working out and watching “American Ninja Warrior” in college and think “I should be a trainer!”  I understand thinking that getting paid to work out is a decent gig, and being named to star in the “Rambo” remake probably isn’t in the cards, so becoming a trainer sounds logical.  I believe these college kids, like most college kids, are forgetting about what the lower rungs of this profession entail.  (How is there not a college course called “entry level jobs are ACTUALLY like this…”?)  

Now I don’t know this because I don’t want to look it up or ask someone, but I imagine getting into the personal training game includes passing out resumes at local gyms.  Do they include what they lift on their resume?  Or, is it all looks based?  I’m sure there are certifications that they need, but what differentiates Joey Triceps from Danny Deltoids when they both have the same certifications?  I’m thinking it has to be A) Looks B) Looks C) Looks.  Anyway, the gyms that these newbies are getting into have to be like the Planet Fitness’s of the world (IF YOU JUDGE, YOU’RE OUT!)  

So they get hired either by Planet Fitness or like a suburban community center and they get paid BUPKISS to motivate creepy older people and high school kids to work out harder.  The older people are definitely just looking for someone to talk to and look at for the hour of the day they’re outside of their house, and the high school kids are probably being made to go by their shithead parents.  Next thing Danny Deltoids knows, he’s spending half his day apologizing to Esther about the treadmill buttons not having larger print.  Or, he’s trying to get High School Ryan to stop checking his snapchat but he can’t get too mad about it because Ryan was bullied at school last week.  “Hey Ryan, bud?  Maybe put the phone down and hop on the elliptical?  No, my tone wasn’t aggressive.  Actually, is that a new filter? Oh cool bud!  You’re doing great!”  Then Ryan’s Dad comes in and is all like “why is my son still fat?” and Danny has to lie and not say “cuz he’s a lazy piece of shit.”  Ryan’s Dad doesn’t buy any more sessions with you because he doesn’t believe in the “excuse business” and then it’s back to Esther’s bad eyes and wandering hands.  If there’s a sequel to “Get Out”, I propose Danny Deltoids play the lead.

-Beer Delivery Drivers:  Remember the last huge party you had when you lived with roommates?  You guys bought a keg and then realized that you live on the third floor of a walk up…so….SHIT.  It probably took you like an hour and a half, using 3 guys to move the keg up one stair at a time.  By the time you got it into your dirty, ice-filled bathtub you couldn’t wait to tell your girlfriend how much your hands hurt.  Now, imagine adding snow, a pissed off bar owner and rickety stairs to that equation…OH! AND IT’S ALL YOU DO ALL DAY EVERY DAY!

I’ve worked with these dudes and they’re basically superheroes in my eyes.  Ever think about how a keg gets to the basement of your favorite dive bar?  That staircase that you’d like a harness to just walk down?  Yeah, beer delivery drivers finnagel a dolly like friggin’ wizards as they trek down a basically-verticle group of splintering stairs.  I worked at a place like this and always had a new, genuine, tears-in-my-eyes apology ready for the driver when he was done delivering the kegs.  Would he have just preferred me slipping him a five dollar bill?  Doubtful.  These apologies were guttural, the type you see at the end of rehab shows when their family comes to visit.  “I just want you to know that I’m sorry and I value everything you do for me.”

-Movers:  Hear this warning first; once you hire movers, you can never NOT hire movers again.  So if you’re still in the post-college “pizza and beers?” phase of moving, then stay there.  But, if you’re nearing 30, moving in with a spouse and your friends are no longer impressed by shitty pizza and cheap beer, hiring movers is a GAMECHANGER.  The first time I hired movers, I literally filmed them on my phone like a DOUCHE because I was so amazed by what they could do.  They had a dude who was like 130lbs, put our couch–OUR FUGGIIN’ COUCH GUYS!–on his back and trucked up the three flights of stairs like it was nothing.  UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE.

Then, there was the second time I hired movers and they showed up to our apartment, looked around at all of The VP of Ops’ bullshit, and said “oh wow…all of this?”  I so badly wanted to be the cool guy and say “nah, I’m lighting all her stuff on fire later cuz boys rule and girls drool, right?!?!”  We’d all laugh and high-five and they’d be relieved and I’d probably save money but…ya know…The VP needs her hideous silver spray-painted side tables!  Ha ha ha.  (Veering off for a second, I dream of throwing like half of our furniture out when the VP is out of town and then convincing her that we got robbed and I was so so scared.)  

But the movers don’t get to say they’re not carrying that.  AND!  They don’t get to show up to a place, realize that first floor is a STEEP first floor, that may as well be a 5th floor, and just turn around to leave.  As a mover, aside from the sheer physical exhaustion associated with lugging shit up and down stairs, you have to be terrified every time you get to a place about what “surprises” you’re about to encounter.  They’re never going to be happy surprises.  More along the lines of “I swear that’s a wine stain on the mattress”-type surprises…and then they have to laugh a little and be like “yeah, wine is that bright red color, and I’m positive it’s not blood!”  THEN! At the end of moving the murderers out of their walk-up, they’re given a lukewarm blue Gatorade that the murderers bought and then forgot to put in the refrigerator.  “Oh thanks guys, I prefer my gatorade room temperature when it’s 97 degrees outside!”

Who’s feeling better about what they do?  MONDAY’S GONNA BE GREAT!

MY WORLD:

Out of the blue, my sister texted our family chain asking for everyone’s favorite line from “Tommy Boy”.  If you don’t really know me (like really really know me…and my deepest darkest secrets…) then you may not know that “Tommy Boy” is my all-time favorite movie.  Hands down, not-a-joke, it’s number one.  So now my day is gonna be kinda ruined because all I’m going to think about are my favorite lines from that movie.  From the top of my head, here’s what I’ve got so far (DON’T HOLD ME TO THESE PLEASE!  DEAR GOD, PLEASE!  I’M TRYING MY BEST!):

  1. “Hm, surprised you didn’t know that.”-Chris Farley to David Spade in the car about the “thin candy shell”.
  2. “These shoes are Italian, they cost more than your life!”-Rob Lowe to Chris Farley after the cow-tipping escapades.
  3. “I can put six packs of be–soda in here!”-Chris Farley freaking out to his dad about the mini-fridge in his office.
  4. “Richard? Who’s your favorite little rascal?  Mine’s SPANKY!”-Chris Farley after walking in on David Spade during that special time.
  5. “I’ll just have a sugar packet or two.”-Chris Farley’s restaurant order after they refuse to make wings for him.

I’m going to need to work on this harder.  I promise to report back in good time.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

How I feel most Mondays…

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I was happy Patrick Reed won yesterday, but his shirt was all kinds of AWFUL…

Reed

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:

So you saw the 5 guys who I picked in the blog last Thursday for the Masters…what you didn’t see is that I had $4.29 left in my account and my friend told me to bet on Jason Dufner and Patrick Reed.  Thing is…I ONLY BET ON PATRICK REED!  BOOM BABY! $4.29 last second bet on Reed scored me like $250.  I am so stinking rich right now, guys.  Does he have a punchable face? Yes.  But, I wanted to kiss that face like a romance guy when he made that putt on 18.  Remember when you all thought I was definitely not back?  UHHHHH…..WRONGO, LOSERS!  I. AM. BACK.

(My account currently at $256.83)

K bye.

Guy Fieri Fandom and Tales of Laziness (4/5/2018)

OUR WORLD:

I want to be friends with Guy Fieri.  He’s Queen meets Limp Bizkit meets the best cheeseburger you had when you were 13.  His bleached blonde spikes and thin goatee WORK, and if you don’t smirk while nodding your head whenever he talks about a dish being “out of bounds”, then maybe you’re the reason you and your father haven’t spoken in years.  I would like to formally welcome you to jimmyschair Reality TV Show Hall of Fame Introduction for Guy Fieri’s “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives”.

It’s really fun to fall in love with someone who is easily made fun of, but has enough self-confidence to turn the joke around; like putting the sun in front of a mirror.  How can a guy wearing pant-shorts, sunglasses with flames on the sides and gaudy bracelets make an old lady in a Nebraska diner blush?  My favorite grandmother (we all have one, right?) would have been play-dough in Guy’s hand.  I can almost hear her denying that she thought he was cute…when she TOTALLY did.  What hipster can do that?  I’ll wait…(I’m seriously trying to think of a counterpoint, and all I’ve got is Jeff Goldblum? Maybe? Nah.)  No hipster can do that because Guy is the good-times party boy we all secretly want to be friends with.

Not everything is as ironic as we’d like to make it out to be in hindsight.  Sometimes, a greasy cheeseburger at a place with torn booths just tastes fucking good.  Much the way that sometimes a bowling shirt featuring bedazzled skulls is just fucking badass. Ignoring the cool-kid crowd and talking about the unimpressive things we love is what this show is about, and Guy is the embodiment of an unimpressive thing we love.  What’s revolutionary about some dude in a muscle car throwing up the “rock on” sign?  NOTHING! But you like it because how do you hate a guy who just wants to show you a ROCKIN’ good time?

How much do you love trying to decipher Guy’s facial expressions?  Like, he’s never going to come out and said to a chef “Bro, that sandwich sucked!”  But, when he doesn’t shoot the camera one of those “you cannot be serious with how good this is”-stares, you know he kinda’ doesn’t like it that much.  He’s too nice of a dude to spit something out, so he’ll normally kinda nod his head while darting his eyes in a panic of trying to invent something nice to say about the shitty bite in his mouth.  Normally, he’ll bail and go with the all-too-obvious “that’s very interesting” copout.  (In Guy-talk, “that’s very interesting” means that you should shut your dump down because that bite was GARB!)  

On the other hand, when he REALLY likes a bite, he is so expressive that you feel like you’re getting to enjoy it through your TV.   This face, the “you cannot be serious how good this is”-stare, is what makes the show:

guy fieri

Full disclosure, I have absolutely stolen this face in my life.  Whenever I take a bite of something awesome, I make this face now.  Restaurant owners should keep an eye on their customers, and if they’re not seeing any of these faces being made, then maybe it’s time to find a new chef.

How excited do you get when you see him take a bite and drop this face, though?  MOM!  HE REALLY LIKES THIS PLACE THAT WE’VE NEVER BEEN TO AND PROBABLY NEVER WILL GO TO BUT IF WE DO WE’RE PROBABLY GONNA LIKE IT CUZ HE MADE THE FACE! If you run a restaurant that Guy has been to and made this face in, you need to immediately change the name of your place to “Guy Made This Face Here” with that picture next to it.  Tell me you’re driving past that restaurant without stopping and I’ll tell you that you’re a goddamn stupid idiot who makes poor decisions in every aspect of your goddamn stupid idiot life!  DAMNIT!

I bet he does cocaine too and, earmuffs kids, but that makes me think he’s even cooler.  Like, you know those episodes when he’s really vibing with the chef?  They’re fist-bumping, and throwing food puns back and forth, and Guy keeps slapping him on the back and saying how everything is “out of bounds”?  You know that when the film crew takes five, Guy is nudging that chef to look down at his open palm featuring a tiny bag of white.  Guy’s producers know what’s about to happen, but they pretend like they don’t see Guy direct his new best friend to the bathroom.  Cut to 3 minutes later and all EVERYONE in the entire restaurant can hear is Guy and the chef alternating between giggling, snorting and high-fiving.  The best part has to be when they emerge from the bathroom, a little too close to one another, sniffling and asking everyone around them “What?!”

After he parties with the chef in back, comes the part of the show where Guy turns into a journalist and interviews actual customers.  ALL of the customers say pretty much the same thing “it’s just so fresh!” but it’s okay because it allows you to focus on your fantasy about what a Guy Fieri cologne would smell like.  There’s always some foodie trying too hard to sound like an impressed critic, and you can feel Guy having to restrain himself from stuffing him in a locker.  Then there’s the fat dude at the bar that Guy is super excited to watch eat and exchange face-stuffing tips with.  Hey!  He loves all shapes except skinny and that makes me feel great about myself!  Take notice: they never show a super hot customer in these restaurants.  It’s only the Betty-Ann’s and Larry’s of the world.  Guts and bad haircuts.

By the time “Triple D” is over you have no idea what you just watched, but you’re super hungry and contemplating whether you could pull off flame sunglasses (not as a joke!)  “Triple D” is a half-hour of Guy getting to be himself; takin’ big boy bites, throwin’ bones with his bros, not being snarky, and doing cocaine with new friends in rooms without cameras.  There are no bad-guys in Guy’s world, just people he hasn’t met yet.

Loyal readers, please welcome the second show to the jimmyschair Reality TV Show Hall of Fame: “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives”.

MY WORLD:

I caught myself doing something extraordinarily lazy last night, and it got me thinking about the little lazy “cheat-codes” that I employ on a regular basis.  Here’s what I’ve got:

-Leaving the fork I just used for my dinner on top of the leftovers I put in the fridge.  This is the move I did last night.  It’s an effort to put off washing said fork, but how ridiculous is that move when you have a dishwasher in your place?!?!  I have a dishwasher in my place!  Not only that, but we also have like a gajillion forks between all the silverware we got for wedding gifts (how about just a lifetime supply of plasticware next time?)  But I still persist in trying to save myself the 3.6 seconds it would take for me to open the dishwasher, and put the dirty fork in the silverware compartment.

-Not throwing out socks or underwear with holes in them.  No joke, over 30% of the underwear and socks I own, have a hole in them.  I remember Jerry Seinfeld talking about how men don’t throw out underwear until they completely disintegrate and HE WAS ABSOLUTELY RIGHT!  Why?  Because if I throw them out, then that means I’ll have to DO SOMETHING…as in, I’ll have to go shopping for underwear and socks.  Could you think of anything more boring than that?  I actually did go underwear shopping at Target (the place you can’t not spend $100) a few weeks back.  But I went alone, and just stared at the 97 different brands of underwear hoping that The VP would magically show up to tell me what to buy.  It’s a minor miracle I didn’t just end up buying a hammer and calling it a day.

-Wearing the same pants for months at a time.  I legitimately don’t know how often, if ever, I’m supposed to wash my jeans.  I used to do it like once every two weeks when I’d do laundry, but then a friend told me that you’re not supposed to wash your jeans.  (Ever get so happy over a seemingly-innocuous comment that you get kinda flush?  That was me when I heard this.  I needed a tissue.)  Top 5 adult revelations definitely includes the time my friend told me you’re not supposed to wash your jeans.  That means, I’m not being lazy, I’m just preserving the integrity of my denim.  SCORE!  Right?

-Turning my driver’s side car-door storage compartment into a garbage can that only gets emptied when I open my door on a windy day.  Do I need to explain that?  If you smash wrappers on top of wrappers, you can fit at least 10 thousand in that compartment.

-Leaving junk mail in my mailbox instead of taking it upstairs and throwing it in the garbage.  I repeat this routine until that day I open my mailbox and the letters are so smashed that they’re getting stuck in the neighboring box.  I’ll get annoyed in my head with the mailman, like “hey dude, take a hint, I’m not taking the loan-consolidation letters upstairs.”  Don’t tell me that you’ve never opened your mailbox, looked through a bunch of lame credit card offers and bills you have on autopay, and then just closed your mailbox hoping those would…just go away on their own.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Even the spoof-version of Guy is a dude I wanna be friends with.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This is Jeff “The Sandwich King” Mauro.  Another Food Network star who doesn’t belong on the same planet as Guy Fieri.  This dude makes me angry with how big of a DOOF he is.  Go away forever and never come back.

Mauro

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

Well, the Celtics got pounded so I’m going to need to make another fucking deposit.  Here’s the thing: I was feeling really sorry for myself watching that Celtics debacle.  BUT! If I had won that, then I definitely wouldn’t have won any of my Masters bets because the gambling gods would’ve been like “well, you just won.”  Now, since I’ve been a massive LOSER since football season ended, the gambling gods have got to be thinking about rewarding my patience.  Hey, Gambling Gods, time to throw me a frickin’ bone here.  My Masters picks (for now):  Tiger Woods, Justin Rose, Alex Noren, Thomas Pieters, Charl Schwartzel.

(My account currently at $1.02)

K bye.

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.

Road Trips Are The Best

MY WORLD:

Yesterday, I went to Rockford, Illinois on a work trip and got super excited about getting to stay in a hotel.  The Rockford Holiday Inn may not do it for you, but something about not having to clean up after myself and watching cable that I don’t have to pay for, turns me into little-kid excited. (When I walked into my room I joked to myself that I should jump on the bed.  I didn’t because I was worried I’d break it and then feel fat and sad.)  This little trip paired with seeing a bunch social media pics of people I know on their spring break trips has gotten me (REALLY GODDAMN JEALOUS) thinking about what makes a road trip is AWESOME.  Holiday Inn + Vacay Pics = Me thinking about road trips.

Lets call this a two-day road trip, where I’d have to drive like 10ish hours and stay at a hotel (Holiday Inn?!?!) before finishing the drive the next day.  Here’s how that day progresses for me and why I think I’ve discovered that I kinda love road trips…

-Waking up super early to get going on something fun, and not work, feels great.

I’m kind of a pain in the ass the morning we leave.  I will have packed the night before, and The VP will still be finishing her seemingly endless packing the morning of.  I’ll get out of bed super early, brew coffee, walk the dog, and then act like an excited puppy myself–wagging my tail while waiting for The VP of Ops to join me outside!  She is normally not as thrilled and, for some reason, doesn’t enjoy the 14 times I ask her “can we go already?”  We need to get on the road so we can get fast food because THAT is when vacation mode really begins…

-Going through the McDonald’s drive-thru for breakfast.

I genuinely think I enjoy the road-trip kickoff sausage biscuit with egg and hash brown from McDonald’s, eaten while driving and cussing at idiot drivers who don’t realize I’M TRYING TO ENJOY MY FUCKING BREAKFAST, more than I enjoy a fancy steak dinner at a fancy steak restaurant.  I’m not exaggerating.  Aside from how perfect McDonald’s biscuits and hash brows taste (it’s a culinary masterpiece), I don’t have to sweat the beating it put on my bank account AND I get to eat it on my way to MORE. FUN. STUFF.  Fancy steak dinners always include me looking at the prices, telling the VP of Ops to not worry about the prices, and then me silently panicking in my head about how many serving shifts I’m going to have to pick up to pay for this fucking steak.  Now, I will say that The VP of Ops has talked me into Burger King breakfast before and it was pretty pretty go—nope, don’t want to hear it? Yeah, I’ll leave that alone.  McDonald’s breakfast for life.  Should we start a hashtag? #McDsBFast4Lyfe (that has legs).

-Listening to Howard Stern interview a celebrity for a couple hours.

Normally, when I have Howard on in my car (satellite radio, yeah I have it, calm down) I’m kinda’ listening to him and kinda’ trying not to freak out about how behind I feel at work.  But on road trips?  I am full-on focused listening and, breaking news, Howard Stern is hilarious.  There are times I get so into his interviews that I’ll look around after like 45 minutes of driving and have the “Oh my god, how did we get here?” momentary-freak-out.  I’m thankful there isn’t a law against driving while zoned out (DWZO) because I’m sure traffic cops can see the blank look on my dumb face when I’m listening to Howard.

-Talking about what fast food place we’re going to get lunch at for at least 37 minutes.

You’re gonna need lunch on the early side because you need strength to drive (“strength” to sit and gently push a pedal ONE foot? Uh…yeah!)  The VP of Ops is an absolute connoisseur of fast-food restaurants, and gets excited anytime we’re around one we can’t get in Chicago.  On our first few road trips together, I’d buy into her excitement and go along with her plan of getting ketchup from “Whattaburger” and mozza sticks from “Sonic” and chicken from “Zaxby’s” and…by our third road trip I realized that The VP’s ADHD is triggered by those big fast-food signs you see on the highway.  Now, we discuss our available options the way I imagine CEOs discuss the merits of different healthcare plans for their employees.  These reasoned discussions will come to an abrupt end when I get frustrated that The VP is not a natural-born decision-maker, and MY DRIVING STRENGTH IS DEPLETING!!!  So we’ll probably get in a kinda-real quick fight as I jerk the car off the exit towards Chic-Fil-A or “whatever, I’m staving now, Erin.”

-Eating IN the fast food restaurant for lunch.

Eating inside a fast food restaurant kinda feels like a treat because you’re used to eating in your car.  Actually getting to not fear for your life (LOOK AT THE ROAD!) while enjoying these high-caloric treats adds another dimension to them.  The VP and I will try to chuckle off the mini-fight we just had, but we’ll both still be kinda annoyed with the other until one of us comes upon a V funny Instagram video to cut the tension.  Boom!  Back to enjoying junk food and thinking about how much fun this trip is gonna be.  Go through your Chic-Fil-A chicken nugget sauce too fast? Don’t even worry, we’re HERE!  YOU CAN JUST GO TO THE COUNTER AND GET MORE SAUCE!

-The After-Lunch Drive 

This can be a real slog.  Kinda’ shleepy cuz you got up super early and have proceeded to MASH carbs all day, so now you’re crashing.  You also don’t have another fun meal in your immediate future, so food-excitement-adrenaline ain’t coming to your rescue now.  This is the perfect time for good-times music.  I actually prefer to listen to Top 40 stations around this time because the music is usually upbeat, and I wanna know what young people are listening to so I can talk to them and sound cool.  (That SZA lady has some really jazzy tunes, am I right broskis?!?!)  The VP will probably try to put on The Beatles or some other very respected music that I know I’m supposed to love, but like…I just wanna listen to the rap guy who’s kinda scary (21 Savage).  

As we transition into the later afternoon, it’s podcast time.  This is when we’re going to listen to something that will make us feel smart, and we’ll probably text some friends IMMEDIATELY to let them know that we like to listen to culture-y stuff.  (Is texting and driving dangerous? Yes.  But, it’s also dangerous not to remind your friends that you’re smart.)  As we near dusk, it’s time to stop at a gas station for snacks.  SNACKS!  GUYS! SNACKS!

-Snack and Gas Stop

You probably don’t really need gas, and you’re not that hungry, but that gas station candy isn’t gonna eat itself.  Wanna know my trick? I’ll buy a water cuz hydration is healthy and I’m saving my tummy room for peanut M&Ms and Pringles.  Driving strength, guys.  Why Pringles? Because A) once you pop you can’t stop, and B) the pop can is perfect for between your legs while driving–like, the Pringles can engineers had to be thinking of drivers when coming up with that design.  The peanut M&Ms are a treat because it’s vacation and vacation is about TREATS!

The VP goes full-on trash mode at this point.  She’ll tell me she’s “not really that hungry” because she knows that I’ll tell her just to “get something in case”….like, in case we’re stranded in a ditch later and nearing starvation (it could happen!)  The VP knew she wanted a Slim Jim all along, but she just needed me to give her that little “what if we never see food again?”-nudge.  I got you babe.  She’ll probably get a tastier drink than me, like a blue Gatorade, that I’ll drink more of it than her because water is lame-o and the Gatorade cals don’t count for me cuz I didn’t buy it!

-Darkness falls and my eyes stink.

Once, after driving all day into night, The VP asked if I was okay when she saw me squinting and leaning forward over the steering wheel.  “I’m not kidding, but it looks like there is a dinosaur chomping down on the road up ahead.”  Evidently, I am NOT a good nighttime driver.  In an effort to avoid the common bridge/tyrannosaurus rex mix-up, we plan ahead now.  Once it turns dark out, I’ve got like an hour left TOPS before we’re pulling into that Holiday Inn.  Why doesn’t The VP take over driving at this point? Because I’m insecure in my masculinity sometimes and don’t want to be shown up by my wittle wife who is definitely a better road trip driver than me but…NO! IT’S HOTEL TIME!

-Hotel and Dinner Time

We pull into a random Holiday Inn and they’re serving nighttime cookies! We like to drop our bags and take a quick breather from all the…uh, sitting…that we’ve done all day.  I’ll probably look at some hotel brochure and get excited about the continental breakfast tomorrow morning.  OR!  If they have a pool, I’ll tell Erin that we should go swimming even though we definitely won’t.  We’ll probably sit in silence to text and go through our phones for about 24 minutes.  The room fills with the occasional chuckle, “what?”, “ah nothing,” as we properly decompress.   Then we’ll explore our surroundings in search of classier dinner fare.  (Chili’s? Yeah, Chili’s.)  The VP will ask me if she should change before we go out, and I’ll give her the “Uh, we’re going to Chili’s and will never see anyone we see tonight ever again”-look.  She’ll give a sly, yet thankful, smile (she knew that answer was coming) and we’re off.

This road trip is off to a great start.

OUR WORLD:

The Top Ten Best Things About a Hotel:

  1.  The pool.  (Even if you don’t swim in it, having to option to swim is invigorating.)
  2.  Not having to clean up after yourself.
  3.  The mini-fridge.
  4.  Hotel-workers treating you like royalty.
  5.  The free continental breakfast (it’s not that good, but I appreciate the effort and I convince myself EVERY TIME that it’ll be good.)
  6. The little coffee machine in your room.  (It looks new!)
  7. Free soap.
  8. Getting excited about watching cable shows that you haven’t watched in a while because they don’t have Netflix.  (Catching the random “Friends” episode on TBS is a RUSH!)
  9. The business center.  (I’m not going to use it, but I like knowing that I could take care of some business like a real adult if I wanted to.)
  10. Leaving and not telling anyone.  (I don’t check out. I just leave and feel like I’m on the lamb.)

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Indoor hotel pools are the best.

hotel pool.jpg

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Uh, Red Roof Inn? Get the fuck outta here.

red roof

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:

Listen guys, when you’re alone at a Holiday Inn in Rockford, you NEED to gamble on the Celtics-Jazz game.  Am I happy that I bet on the first half over of a regular season NBA game? Not especially, but I’m in this for the long haul.  Took about $30 in losses and it would’ve been worse if I didn’t BANG that second half over bet, so kinda’ feels like a win?  Yep, feels like a win.

(My account currently at $73.12)

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.