Category: spring

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

MY WORLD:

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

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

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

Buying toilet paper before I run out

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

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

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

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

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

OUR WORLD:

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

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

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

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

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

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

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

(My account currently at $327.55)

K bye.

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

MY WORLD:

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

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

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

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

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

OUR WORLD:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good section, Jimmy!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

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

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

(My account currently at $88.07)

K bye.

The Life of a Chicago Renter (5/1/2018)

OUR WORLD:

A lot of people are moving.  Okay, end of blog! (Sorry, but someday I’m just going to write a one sentence blog and that sentence is going to be general and bland.  I will do it for the sole purpose of making myself laugh.  I look forward to that day.)  But I am seeing a lot of people in my apartment building and on Facebook who are moving, and it got me to thinking that the life of a Northside Chicago renter, is somewhat universal.  Obviously, these are gross generalizations, but there seems to be a neighborhood progression with age that most of my friends have gone through.  The Life of a Northside Chicago Renter, goes like this:

Wrigleyville:  (Age 22-24)

This is the “I’m out of college but not done acting like I’m still in college”-phase.  Wrigleyville is a mess of old apartment buildings with window units and wooden floors that have been ravaged by years of inadvertent beer spills.  When you’re in college, Wrigleyville is what you think of as “Chicago city living”, though.  Do you remember watching Cubs games growing up and thinking about how jealous you were that people actually got to LIVE by that stadium?!?!  You’re basically a Cubs player if you live there, is how young Chicagoans’ brains work.

Then you go to college, learn how to blackout on a regular basis and start telling people that you’re never going to change because you “like to have FUN!”  So when you graduate, moving to Wrigleyville is the only place you can continue the random Tuesday night blackout in a crowded bar (if you try to do this in a River North bar, you will be the only one there and the bartender will, most likely, ask “are you sure you want another? It’s Tuesday.”)  This coincides with prime serving and bartending ages and, as I can attest, restaurant worker “weekends” happen most every night.

Coming from dorm and college apartment life, these creaky Wrigleyville dungeons don’t seem half bad, and a lot of your friends are going to be close by so…again…you’re basically still in college.  As you get into the end of year 1, though, you’ll start to realize that living in Wrigleyville kinda’ stinks.  Parking is an ISSUE at all times.  The restaurants are equipped to feed an entire drunk baseball stadium spilling into the streets, so quality isn’t their first priority.  The heating units/radiators sound like they’re screaming in the winter (literally, imagine a high-pitched cat hiss) and it always gets WAY too hot, but it’s too cold to open a window so you’re just left in temperature no-mans land.  Thankfully, you’re probably drunk, so passing out isn’t too big of a problem.

Lakeview: (Age 24-25)

As you start to get a little more established in your job, or actually get your first 9-5 job, there comes a time when you need to prove to your family that you have move past the Wrigleyville phase of your life.  Honestly, it’s more symbolic than anything.  You’re still going to show up hungover to most weekend family functions, but at least this time you can say something like “I moved to Lakeview because I just couldn’t take the Wrigleyville crush anymore.”  What you don’t realize, though, is that your parents are WELL AWARE that Lakeview is basically one block south of Wrigleyville so….you’re basically still there.

The apartments are a hair cheaper and a very thin hair nicer (yeah, like the one’s on the crown of my head…that hurt my feelings).  You’ve probably gone from living with 3 people, to living with 1 or 2 people and it’s no longer ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY to have a ping pong table room (don’t worry, you’ll still have a bunch of friends who feel differently). But you’ll start getting back into the gym and eating a little better during the week, and the weekday binge drinking will slow…a teeny tiny bit.

Then, near the end of your lease, you’ll leave a Mexican restaurant that just served you pre-packaged margs and lukewarm tacos and it’ll hit you: “Lakeview is purgatory!”  It’s the waiting room with dull art on the walls between college life and adulthood.  It’s removed from Wrigley so it’s not as fun as college, but it’s still riddled with dumpy apartment buildings and mediocre restaurants so it’s not a nice as real adulthood can be.  (Caviar! Diamonds! Hair Product!)  The older friends you have around the city NEVER come to Lakeview to meet up because “nah, just come here”, and your younger siblings think all the bars in Lakeview are bland…because they are.

Lincoln Park: (Age 25-27)

Lincoln Park is cool.  There’s a zoo and a college and good restaurants and a park.  For the first time since high school, you won’t be surrounded by dumpsters with window units.  It’s a lovely mix of UBER ritzy buildings, decent apartments for young professionals and a few dumpster units for the DePaul students who are too cool to stay in the dorms.  I think this is when most legitimate dating happens because there are actually decent restaurants in Lincoln Park too.  Hard to call chicken fingers and 19 beers at Sluggers a great way to start a long-lasting, trustworthy relationship.

I will warn you, however, that the zoo is a big draw to Lincoln Park, but if you actually go there, be prepared to be depressed.  Going to a zoo as an adult is one of the worst realizations of getting older.  THEY’RE SO DEPRESSING!  Who knew that standing with screaming toddlers and professional nose pickers while watching WILD ANIMALS pace a habitat smaller than your deck was going to make you sad?!?! SHOCKING!  Also, somehow, the ice cream that you were thrilled to get as a kid at the zoo is now…like, warm.  It’s still congealed, but when you bite into it, amazingly, it’s kinda warm.  One of the most off-putting experiences is eating warm ice cream that’s not dripping.  HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN!?!?!

Thankfully, the restaurants are good enough to help you forget how sad that gorilla sitting behind plate glass is.  (Am I the only one who hopes to hear about a story where a gorilla breaks through the glass, starts body slamming only the annoying little kids and starts an ape uprising? If that happens, I can point to this blog to prove my support and, therefore, be one of the few humans spared.  *Dunk sounds*)  Real quick, here are my favorite Lincoln Park restaurants:

  1. Cafe Ba Ba Reeba
  2. Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinders
  3. Geja’s
  4. Summer House
  5. The Athenian Room

*STAY TUNED FOR PART II OF “THE LIFE OF A CHICAGO RENTER” TOMORROW*

MY WORLD:

Today, I have a quick story about “A Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The VP of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable.”  Well, it’s actually more an ongoing joke than a story.  You see, The VP of Ops went to Mississippi State University and talks about how it took her 5 years to graduate because she was such a good times gal (my kinda gal, na’m sayin’?)  She’ll retell stories about her 5th year, I think, in an effort to get ahead of anyone who may make some sort of “you’re an idiot”-joke in her direction.  Which I am all for because, guess what idiot, The VP is NOT an idiot and I know this because I have seen her read over 3 books! (Jimmy Fliparooski in the building y’all!)  

What I will say, though, is that I have never actually seen a physical copy of her Mississippi State diploma.  These two eyes have never even been treated to a picture of said diploma.  Does it exist? Probably? But, this game of diploma hide-and-seek has gone on for years now and, in the process, has left open the door for one of my favorite jokes.  Whenever the VP talks about graduating college, I’ll drop in a nonchalant “so you say,” or say the word “supposedly” while throwing up exaggerated air quotes, or I’ll just ask the person she’s talking to “have you seen her diploma? I haven’t.  I’m just curious if someone in the universe has.”  The VP of Ops has a difficult time finding the humor in these little jabs; much the way she has a difficult time finding the copy of her Mississippi State diploma.  (If I knew how to type out the emoji of the guy holding his hands up like “what?” I would insert that here.)

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Anyone with me and think that the frozen shot idea from Tom Schwartz in last night’s “Vanderpump” finale was actually a really good idea?  Is he a legit good bartender? I SAY YES!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

How did they not show any of the following in last night’s “Vanderpump Rules” finale:

  1. Scheana getting dumped by Rob.  NEED TO SEE THAT.
  2. Video evidence that James DID hook up with Kristen in Mexico.  That 100% happened.
  3. ANY VISUAL EVIDENCE OF LALA’S MAN.  Seriously, if you’re a producer on the show, how do you not say “if we can’t put him on air, you’re off the show”?

All in all, a lackluster finale.

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 did not bet last night because I’m saving my strength.  My bud told me that the Bears over/under win total for next year, though is currently at 6.5.  IMMA HAMMER THAT OVER!

(Account currently at $108.14)

K bye.

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

OUR WORLD:

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

Animal Control Officer:  

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

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

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

Used Car Salesman:

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

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

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

Personal Chef for a Celebrity and their Kids:

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

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

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

MY WORLD:

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

10-Crunch Bar

9-Chocolate Covered Almonds

8-Twix

7-Kit Kat

6-Gummy Fruit Slices

5-Gummy Bears

4-Crispy M&Ms

3-York Peppermint Patties

2-Peanut M&Ms

1-Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups

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

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

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

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

(My account currently at $192.22)

K bye.

Country Clubs Suck and Dog Nicknames (4/19/18)

OUR WORLD:

Ever walk into a place and IMMEDIATELY feel like everything there, from the people to the furniture to the paint on the walls, is eager for you to leave?  If you’re having trouble coming up with the last place that made you feel this way, let me help you out: think of the last time you were in a country club.  Now you get it.  Studies show that readers of jimmyschair are 91% less likely to be a member in a country club than the rest of society (studies, guys, we’re talkin’ serious stuff that people wearing tiny glasses wrote about).  But you have been to one before because everyone is due to experience an old lady with poofy white hair and an expensive pin (it’s called a “Brooche” you animal) giving you the “leave immediately, or I’ll put a murder-spell on your family”-glare.  I got to experience this yesterday on a business (straight cash homie) call, and it reminded me how absolutely obnoxious country clubs are.  Why does this appeal to people?

The appeal of being a part of an exclusive club can be attractive, but when entry into that club is determined not by merit, but by your bank account, how does the guilt not taint the membership at least a little bit?  Obviously, most people who are well off have worked their asses off earning every nickel they have and there should be no guilt about that.  But when those people inhabit the same club as Thomas TrustFund, they…kinda’ become the company they keep.  Imagine a scenario where some shlubby dude, let’s call him Jimmy, wearing an old t-shirt and dirty hat gets lost.  Jimmy is driving around the middle of suburbia for a while when it starts hailing golf balls as a dense fog rolls in.  So pulls in the first driveway he sees and takes it up to a big, old-timey looking house place.  He’ll walk in, not noticing the “Members Only” sign that’s small enough that you’d have to wonder if it’s a test.  Once inside, soaking wet with bruises on his head from the hail, the 4 members wearing blazers with patches on the elbows, will immediately begin to grumble.  The one whose family has been members the longest, Thomas TrustFund, will volunteer to be the enforcer because the mere whiff of danger is intoxicating for this neutered house cat.

“Excuse me sir, are you a member?”-Thomas huffed, knowing full well that members aren’t allowed to wear “Big Dog” t-shirts.

“Oh, shoot I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was a club.  It was just a nightmare outside, so I had to get off the roads.”-Jimmy responded.

Thomas asks Jimmy to “kindly leave”, (which is a thing that only true dickheads say; more offensive for it’s condescension than if someone said “you! yeah you, get da’ fuck outta here!)  and will send Jimmy back into the hail tornado.  Then Thomas will return to his midday bourbon circle-jerk to clink glasses celebrating exclusivity and how “tough” he just was.  Now, if you’re the person who worked your ass off for every nickel you have, but you now own the same douchey blazer as Thomas and have clinked glasses with him, you are now Thomas.  Seriously, just change your name.

I can hear my mom reminding me that all people that have money and belong to country clubs aren’t assholes, and that’s probably true.  However, if they get to build a club and golf course and pool all with the sole intent of excluding other people, aren’t those excluded people then allowed to label this society as “the dickhead society”?  It seems fair, no?  You get a pool, we get to unite in calling you dicks.

Is a pool and access to a nice golf course and a private dining room worth being properly labeled as a dick, though? There are super nice public golf courses throughout the country (I know because sometimes I save up and play them and end up wanting to quit about 6 holes in).  A pool?  Well, that’s tougher, but we all have a friend who has a rich uncle who likes to throw parties.  If not, just do what my parents did and get a room at the Glenview Embassy Suites for the night so you can swim in their pool.  We’ve already gone over this; hotel pools are the best.  A nice restaurant? Are you effing serious, bro?  “Newks” is a sandwich chain-restaurant in the south that has better sandwiches than any goofy clubhouse “chef” could slap together.  And steakhouses?!?! Every town in America now has that one nice steakhouse that you save up to go to once every 3 years and leave saying “that was SO worth it.”

So the appeal MUST be the status that’s associated with it, and that’s where I’m lost.  Bragging about your bank account, however passive aggressive it may be, is something that should be pointed out and mocked every single time.  This is why “Caddyshack” was such a great movie (related: I caddied at the club that “Caddyshack” was based on, and it was SPOT. ON.  Seriously, it’s stunning how little in that movie was exaggerated.) This is why no matter how many times my Mom tells me to not sounds so judgmental about the people in these places, I can’t resist.  This is why whenever I go to one of these places, ready to give them the benefit of the doubt and be surprised by their welcoming nature, I  end up leaving disappointed.

Yesterday, while doing BUSINESS, I was asked to take my hat off before entering an empty dining area in a country club where my presence (because of my work) was requested.  Not wanting to cause a scene by starting up an impromptu “Hat People Matter”-campaign, I removed my hat and continued our meeting; looking like an absolute asshole with my hat hair.  And why did I have to take my hat off?  So as not to offend the…oh, wait…NOBODY WAS IN THE DINING ROOM.  No no, this is just “club policy”.  Give me a fuckin’ break, pal.  That’s like a movie usher yelling at someone for using their phone after the movie ended and everyone left and the theater was now empty and dark because that was the last showing of the day.  It was almost like this guy thought “now, he must have noticed that his LEASED car stuck out in our parking lot, but let’s really drive the point home that he’s a slob by forcing him to show off his dirty, helmet-like hair in front of the four well-dressed club executives.”

I’m a middle-class white dude who was raised in a very nice suburb and these places make ME feel like sewer matter; I can’t even imagine how they make people less fortunate feel.  I hope to make a buttload of money someday, go to a country club that’s struggling with membership and buy the land it’s on so I can tear it down and build my dream: a “Newks” in Illinois.  What’s better than a “Newks” sandwich?  A “Newks” sandwich that comes with a free round of golf and pool access.

MY WORLD:

With The VP of Ops out of town, I’ve been talking to my dog, Belle, quite a bit more than usual.  Fellow dog owners? You feel me? Cha feel?  Here are the nicknames that I have bestowed upon Belle:

-Pretty Girl

-Numba One Pretty Gurrrrrrl

-Sundog Millionaire! (said, with an exclamation point, in the villain’s accent from “Slumdog Millionaire”)

-Bubba

-Bubba Shlubba

-Dirty Dog

-Ro Ro

I will keep you all updated on the new ones that my dumb brain comes up with just about every day.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The old couches that are super not comfortable and in every stuffy country club you’ve ever been to.

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

I can’t lie to you guys.  I wasn’t able to gamble last night and I don’t even know what happened in those games because of work stuff.  I apologize for letting you down.  Gambler Jimmy will return soon…and with a vengeance.

(My account currently at $204.55)

K bye.

 

 

When Your Wife Goes Out of Town and Gross Foods (4/18/18)

MY WORLD:

The VP of Ops has left me.

She took off on an airplane this morning to go to a little place called Mexico, ever heard of it? (The friend of mine who reminded me of the “ever heard of it?”-joke was disappointed that he/she did not receive proper credit in last week’s blog.  Well, TOO FUCKING BAD!  THIS IS MY WORLD! AND NOW, WHENEVER ANYONE THINKS OF THE “EVER HEARD OF IT?” JOKE, THEY WILL THINK OF JIMMYSCHAIR FIRST! ME! ME! ME!)  This Mexico trip is a 5 day bachelorette-a-thon where they’re staying in a…(uh oh, I know she told me where they were staying multiple times.  And, I definitely was not listening to her when she was telling me)…they’re staying in a place where there’s a beach and stuff.  What that means, is that I’m single for the next five days.  It’s true, guys.  I can do whatever I want because The VP is not here and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have internet access so KEEP YOUR MOUTHS SHUT!

Jk lol omg guys.  It’s called a joke!  What it really means is that I’ll probably gamble more, eat worse and throw a few pouches in my lip because I’M FREE!!!  (There should be another warning label on tobacco tins that reads “Just because you only do this when your wife is out of town, doesn’t mean it’s not still bad for you.”)  You see, every time The VP of Ops goes out of town, I go through the same stages in the first 24 hours of “Freedom”:

The “Wow, I can’t wait to do whatever I want when I get back tonight”-stage:  This is the most exciting stage of The VP actually leaving.  THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS!  This stage usually occurs right after she leaves and I promised her that I would miss her so much.  However, what I’m really thinking when I tell her that I’ll “miss her so much” is “I wonder what I’m gonna have for dinner tonight before getting to watch 5 straight hours of playoff basketball with action on EVERY SINGLE GAME!”  The first night alone, you need to be alone–this is not the night to invite your friends over and make them jealous that their significant other isn’t out of town too…that’s for tomorrow.  Tonight is for tacos or wings or…no, just tacos or wings with moderate-to-heavy drinking and maybe a vape or dip sesh.  Bad boy stuff only.

The “Wait, so I have to take the dog out every time while she’s gone?”-stage:  I don’t know why this reality always surprises me when she’s gone, but usually late in the first day of it, I get salty that she’s not flying back to take Belle outside.  I’ll get back from work, plop my finely toned and overworked bod on my chair and Belle will start crying.  However, now I can’t trick her to “go find mom!” (Such a great dog trick. Stupid dog, Mom’s in the kitchen; Can’t you hear her talking to me?)  And then I’ll think to myself “well this is kinda’ bullshit.”  Don’t get me wrong, Belle is my numba one pretty gurrrrl, but sometimes Relaxin’ Jimmy just needs her to stop staring while running in place and growling at me.  Normally, right about now, is when The VP of Ops will call me to “check in” (I’m not a baby!) and I’ll have to try real super hard not to sound pissy on the phone about having to do EVERYTHING IN THE UNIVERSE!

The “It’s late and I’m really tired, but I need to force a drunk tonight to prove how much fun  this vacation is”-stage:  End of night one ALWAYS feels like this.  I should just go to bed because I’m an adult with a CAREER (ever heard of it?) but that would be admitting defeat to myself.  It’s like I can hear 25 year-old, single Jimmy making fun of me for even thinking about going to bed before 10:30.  I’m not kidding when I tell you that there is probably going to be some audible pump-up self-talk along the lines of “come on Bud, let’s have a time!”  Then I’ll go and pour another little glass of scotch that I don’t need OR really want.  BUT WE’RE HAVING FUN, DAMNIT!  I’ll try convince myself that I care about watching the Oklahoma City game because I have $8 riding on it before falling asleep in my chair and waking up at 2AM in a “where am I?!?”-panic.

I’ll wake up the next morning to a living room that smells like scotch because I left my half-full glass on the coffee table, and my socks are on the ground and there are taco wrappers on the counter.  Guess what, though? Don’t have to clean it up till later.

OUR WORLD:

The Top Ten Foods That Are Gross And Why Does Anyone Eat Them:

  1.  Yogurt:  The consistency, the sound it makes when you stir it and if you lick the lid then we can’t be friends anymore.  I’m serious.
  2. Cauliflower Mashed Potatoes:  Fake mashed potatoes and I am not even close to being tricked.  They taste like sour mush.
  3. Cottage Cheese:  Are people serious with this shit?  Can’t be.  Must be an elaborate prank.
  4. Grape Nuts Cereal:  It’s brown gravel.
  5. Energy Gel/Goo:  Distance runners/people who are V serious about working out eat this stuff during workouts and it’s GNARLY GROSS.
  6. Lox:  I have never tried them and I will not.
  7. Black-Eyed Peas:  All you’re thinking about is how normal peas are way better than these weird things.
  8. Ham Salad: You’re not chicken or tuna salad and you never will be.  Stop trying.
  9. Bologna:  Too smooth and round.  Nope.
  10. Anchovies:  I don’t even want to hear that you’re chopped up finely in my favorite caesar dressing.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Ran across this song yesterday and remembered that I really like it.  Not a huge fan of the video, so just put this on in the background and don’t watch the video.

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Gag city.

Yogurt

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, I didn’t gamble on the Blazers and that’s good because I’m starting to feel like I may be jinxing teams again…I did bet on the Cubs and the over last night and the Cardinals won and the over pushed so…WINNER!  Tonight, I’m loving a moneyline parlay of NBA games: Cleveland, Utah and Houston.  Feels so right.

(My account currently at $204.55)

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.

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.

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.