Category: youth

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

MY WORLD: 

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

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

How to hang a picture:

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

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

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

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

mirror

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

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

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

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

How to change a tire:

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

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

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

OUR WORLD:  

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

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

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

I hate this shit.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

JIMMY GAMBLES:

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

(My account currently sits at $43.18)

K bye.

 

Movie Trailer Reviews (Pt. 2) & I May Have to Retire from Sports (8/17/18)

OUR WORLD:

I get panic sweats from not being in my movie theater seat 5 minutes before showtime.  Getting The VP anywhere on time is a struggle I fully realize will plague me the rest of my life, but getting to the movie theater and airport with plenty of time to spare is something I will never be rational about.  We will be at the airport two hours before our flight.  We will be at the movie theater 20 minutes before showtime.  In the words of every U.S. Government Official in every action movie with terrorists: “this is not a negotiation.”  Unfortunately, forceful military analogies don’t work as well as ones involving fried food when it comes to connecting with The VP of “I’m Almost Done With My Make-Up”.  Along those lines, here is what I plan to tell her the next time I’m about to sweat through my shirt at the thought of missing the trailers.

Jimmy:  “Can we go ye-”

VP: “I’ll be done in two minutes thank you very much.”

Jimmy:  “This theater has mozzarella sticks.”

That’ll work.  She may chuckle and act like that’s not going to work, but the make-up brush will go down and there will be newfound urgency to her movements.  Mind you,  I won’t look into whether the theater does or does not, in fact, have mozzarella sticks, but I can deal with that meltdown once we’re in the building.  Yes, we’re going to see a movie, but passing up trailers is like…how can I put this in a way that The VP would understand:  Trailers are mozzarella sticks; meant to be a tasty treat before the main course, but so overwhelmingly delicious that they ALWAYS overshadow the entree.  Are you passing on free mozza sticks?  I didn’t think so.  Let’s get into Part 2…

“First Man”:

Ryan Gosling has officially entered the “if he’s in it, I’m probably going to want to go see it” tier of movie stardom.  Obviously, we’re going to be interested because space movies are sweet, but seeing Ryan Gosling and…WAIT, IS THAT COACH TAYLOR?!?! DID HE TRADE IN HIS FOOTBALL COACHIN’ WHISTLE FOR AN ASTRONAUT COACHIN’…WHISTLE?!?! YOU BET YOUR FUCKIN’ ASS HE DID!

If you’re not already in on a movie featuring space, Gosdaddy, and Coach CoolDad, may I interest you in a scary sounding soundtrack?  The music in the background of this trailer makes me look out of the sides of my eyes before walking slowly to the window with an inquisitive expression on my face.  I may whisper something like “what in the…” before turning back to the camera before CUT!

WHAT DID I SEE IN THE WINDOW?!?!  Space, guys.  I saw’d space stuffs.

I do understand hesitation in buying a ticket to see a movie where you already know the ending; we land on the moon and are all like “suck it Russia!”  That’s a valid argument against this movie, and the same one I use when explaining why I don’t go to Bond movies: we know he’s never gonna die.  HOWEVA!  The movie “Patriots Day” changed my mind on historically-based movies: there is drama involved in the details of missions we only saw the final results of.  “Patriots Day” is about the Boston Marathon bombers.  Yes, I knew the good guys got the bad guys, but I did NOT know what it took and it was ABSOLUTELY fascinating to see that.  “First Man” is about landing on the moon.  Yes, I know Neil Armstrong makes it, but I did NOT know that a certain former Texas high school football coach with a smile that could melt an iceberg was the one pulling the strings backstage.  Clear eyes, full space-shuttle-gas-tank, can’t lose.

JIMMYSCHAIR FACE REVIEW:

GOOD

“Widows”:

Pairing the writer of “Gone Girl” with the Viola Davis cry-face is a deadly combination, but I’d be lying if I told you that I wasn’t leery of an action movie led by a 53 year-old woman who appears to be in just decent shape.  Is that fair?  Yes, Tom Cruise is older than Viola Davis in Mission Impossible, but he’s cut from stone and is the best movie runner of all time.  Have you ever seen Viola sprint down a dock with a boat burning in the background?  Me neither. I know Viola Davis from being a mayor in an action movie I can’t remember and for delivering all-time cheesy lines in promos for “How To Get Away With Murder”.

I did, however, start to buy in once I saw that Michelle Rodriguez was part of the “let’s kill the guys who killed our husbands”-crew.  Alright, if we have Viola Davis delivering dramatic lines with no facial expressions and Michelle Rodriguez doing Michelle Rodriguez things, you have my attention.  Rodriguez has “don’t fuck with me” written all over her face and is in the kind of shape where I’d be nervous about pissing her off in a dark alley.  Okay, starting to buy in, starting to buy in…then, hey! There’s another one in the crew with a shaved head and arms bigger than Bruce Willis’ in “Die Hard”!  Now we’re cooking with gas!

As the tense music nears the crescendo and I start remembering how much I love Colin Farrell in everything he has been in, I begin to slowly turn my head towards The VP to give her the “let’s see this”-look when…Oh, Viola no….PLEASE!…DON’T SAY IT!

Viola:  “No one thinks we have the balls to pull this off.”

She did it.  I can’t believe it except I totally can because I am now convinced that Viola Davis has a clause in every contract that reads “Viola will give at least 18 dead-eye stares into the camera, and must be the one to deliver the most cringe-worthy dramatic line in the movie.”  I get that women are leading action movies now and I support that, but if there’s going to be a wink-like line that the female lead has to say in every one of these movies COUNT. ME. OUT.

JIMMYSCHAIR FACE REVIEW:

BAD

“Little Stranger”:

-Somehow, in the midst of our trailer binge, The VP of Ops stole the remote when I wasn’t looking and went straight for the British-y looking trailer.  British accents and big old houses are catnip for the VP, AND SHE’S NOT EVEN A CAT, GUYS!  SHE’S A WOMAN!  Meanwhile, I take British accents and fancy clothes and big old houses as an affront to my Chicago sensibilities.  So yes, I did spend most of this trailer giving the VP my unmistakable “you got a lotta fuckin’ nerve”-stare.

I didn’t intend to turn this trailer review into an examination into my marriage, but the fact that she picked this one is the type of selfish move that MUST BE CALLED OUT.  The VP’s thought process had to have gone something like this:  “Jimmy hates scary movies, and british accents, and big old houses, but mayb—Oh wait! It ALSO has no one either of us have ever heard of in it?”  So then there must have been only one thing she could have said to herself, “FUCK JIMMY!”  There’s no way around it, this was a stone-cold “Fuck Jimmy”-decision.

In the trailers picked thus far, have you seen anything along the lines of a documentary about Greg Norman’s 1996 collapse at The Masters?  Or, wait, remember that trailer I reviewed about the 2001 NBA Draft where the Bulls took Tyson Chandler AND traded up for Eddy Curry and I was convinced that the Bulls were about to start a new dynasty?  No, you haven’t heard of either of those trailers because a) they don’t exist and b) even if they did, I have enough COMMON DECENCY to not force my less-decent-than-me wife to sit through them.  It would be like your allergist diagnosing you with a peanut allergy while eating a delicious Dark Chocolate and Peanut Butter Kind Bar.  I don’t mean to exaggerate too much, but…it’s the way a serial killer thinks, right?  Guys? I’m right.  The serial killer is like “hmmm, I really enjoy murdering people, but I know this woman won’t enjoy being murdered so…ahhh, fuck her!”  Tell me how that’s different than what The VP did here.  I’ll wait.  (Pssst, it’s not different.)

As far as “Little Stranger” goes; who sees these movies?  Ooooooh a bunch of rich brits with weird facial hair are tormented by bells in their house that are ringing when they shouldn’t be.  Here’s an idea guys, buy a new house without bells!

JIMMYSCHAIR FACE REVIEW:

BAD

MY WORLD:

An update on my dead ankle?  Sure, thanks for asking.  It still hurts, but the brace the doctor gave me has gotten me some sympathy and gotten me out of some tasks around the house, so that’s nice.  Honestly, what this injury really signals is that I’m never not going to be terrified to play any sport again for the rest of my life.

The few times I’ve played basketball over the last 5 years, I was constantly thinking about tearing my ACL because two of my friends did it.  “Hey guys, can I just be the guy who makes all the inbound passes?  That’s a position, right? Inbound passing guy?”  But now, after destroying my ankle by WALKING, there’s no way I’m going to be able to enjoy playing any sport ever again without thinking about some catastrophic leg injury.  (Catastrophic?  You turned your ankle Jimmy.  Fuckin’ relax.)  BUT WHAT IF I CAN’T RELAX?!?! WHAT IF I NEVER RECOVER?!?!

I remember when I was in my 20s and I would hear people in their 30s talk about how old they were and how their bodies changed and blah blah fuckin’ blah.  They were all drama queens who didn’t know how to work out properly.  And then this shitty thing happened where I turned 33, rolled my ankle in a goddamn pothole and now I’m POSITIVE I’m never going to be able to run without my ankle exploding again.   Did I have to contemplate this new reality after being invited to play soccer by a group of teenagers by my apartment last evening? No, they didn’t invite me and…well, they don’t even exist, but I have created this situation in my brain.  And if this situation ever does present itself, I will be compelled to tell these teens to relish the years between 13 and 19 before dramatically lifting my right pant leg to reveal my never-to-be-whole-again 33 year-old ankle.

“And that’s why I can’t play soccer with you guys.  Ever.”-I’ll say as I embellish a limp back towards my dumpy apartment building.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

GUYS! GUYS!! HEY GUYS!!!! THE NEW DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE ALBUM IS OUT!!!! I’ve had it on in the background as I wrote this, this morning, but haven’t focused on it yet.  No matter, I’m sure it’s earth-shatteringly delicious.  Here’s a sure-to-be hot hot track of the new album that I found a live version of!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When your dog hangs her head off the side of the couch in an undoubtable effort to make you feel guilty for not providing a yard for her to frolic and play in like all the dogs got to in the movies she saw as a puppy.  Hey Belle, who’s stopping you from getting a job and contributing?

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I’m back at $0 in my account after only betting parlays for the last week.  Confidence is at an all-time low.  Not joking when I say that I cannot remember the last time I won a bet.  I could look it up because it’s probably been about 3 weeks, but that’s a warning….THAT I’M DUE TO GO ON A REAL HEATER!!!!

(My Bovada account is currently at $0)

K bye.

 

Reality Shows That Should Happen and Are We Going To Move? (7/31/18)

OUR WORLD:

“The Men Tell All” episode of “The Bachelorette” was on last night and, I’ll admit, Jordan was an electric factory.  He got me laughing a few times and did make me ask The VP “is he in on the joke?” I kinda’ think that he is, which makes it funnier when he’s bragging about how he owns billboards in everyone’s head and should’ve been wearing a work vest to this episode.  Bravo, Jordan, bravo (I’m making that aristocratic face rn while nodding and giving a very pompous round of applause.)  But then the episode kept going and going and I remembered that I don’t give a shit about “The Bachelorette” this year.  IS BECCA GONNA PICK THE LOW-KEY RACIST OR THAT SMILEY DUDE WHO HAS ZERO PERSONALITY?!?!  I hate when my guy friends make fun of all of the shitty reality TV that I like, and I hate even more that I’m now one of those guys with this season of “The Bachelorette”.  However, there is a silver lining!  With the part of my brain normally devoted to this show now FREE, I have dedicated it to thinking of some reality shows that NEED to happen.  Here are the first 3 that I’ve come up with:

“Serving Patricia: The Story of Michael Kelcourse”

I’m officially all caught up on “Southern Charm” and I’d like to thank all my supporters for sticking by me while I caught up.  Took a lot of courage on your part to stand by a “reality fan” who had yet to watch the crown jewel of the south.  (Are you crying?  I am too!!! WE DID IT!!!)  I’m sure there will be spin-offs from this show most likely revolving around Shep or Craig or Naomie or the T-Rav rape trial (yikes…) BUT there is only ONE spin-off of “Southern Charm” that is absolutely necessary: the story of Patricia’s old-man butler Michael.  I’d like to call it “Serving Patricia: The Story of Michael Kelcourse”.  (Wow, creative Jimmy.)

WARNING: this will not be your typical lite Bravo fare.  I want this show on AMC or HBO or some other network that specializes in shaky, handheld camera documentary-style reality shows.

I want one cameraman following Michael Kelcourse (the fact that I spent time googling “Patricia Southern Charm Butler” is not something I’ll tell my grandkids about).  I want this one cameraman to, essentially, become Michael’s only real friend in the world; allowing him to open up about all the things that Patricia makes him do that we DON’T see on “Southern Charm”.  Patricia has “Michael, there is a body in the freezer outside that I’d like you take care of”-written ALL OVER HER.  She’s been married like 19 times, you don’t think ONE of those former husbands “disappeared mysteriously”?  GET YOUR DUMB HEAD OUT OF YOUR FAT BUTT!  MICHAEL KNOWS WHERE THE BODIES ARE!

Maybe one night after returning to his chambers (does he have “chambers”? does he live in a cage in Patricia’s basement?) Michael pours a glass of bourbon for himself and his new best friend Cameraman Jack.  About halfway through their first glass, but not yet talking, Michael lets out a deep exhale and brings his fingers to his tear-filled eyes.  “I’ve done bad things, Jack.  I’ve done bad things.”  Jack would lean forward, pour a little more bourbon in Michael’s glass and say “we all have.”  Michael would start gently shaking his head, though, and when he lifted it up we’d see his eyes were full-blown red from crying: “I was just following orders.”  That’s when the camera would be set down, but not off, and we’d hear Michael cry and reveal where all of the holes are that he had to dig for Patricia’s ex-husbands.

OR…Is there a dark side to this seemingly permanently-chipper old man butler?  I bet there is guys…I REALLY, REALLY BET THERE IS!!!  There is no way that you can bring dirty martinis to some stuck up lady with a face doesn’t move all day, every day without retreating to some secret drug dungeon that allows you to put up with a life you can’t believe you’re living.  I don’t actually think that Butler Michael is a closet opium addict, but look at the eyes, there’s something…something dark beneath….and, if there’s not, maybe he could teach all of us how to be happy living a life other than the one you dreamt of when you were 19.

michael kelcourse

 

“Backstage Pass” 

I want to know what the backstage scene looks like for old bands that USED to be known for RAGING party scenes before and after shows.  Think along the lines of: The Rolling Stones, The Who, and Aerosmith.  Listen, I don’t actually know if these bands were known for being fucking party animals, but I just assume that older rock bands all did cool drugs and were skinny alcoholics during their heydays SO JUST GO WITH IT!

They’re probably a bunch of recovering addicts now, but doesn’t being backstage after a show trigger some “man, I’d love a fucking beer right now”-urges for these guys?  How do they overcome that?  If I’ve had a weekend of hard drinking, I’ll tell myself on Monday that I’m not going to drink for a few days.  Then, I’ll go for a run, get home, open the fridge and think to myself “Sweet Baby Jesus a beer sounds AMAZING.”  3 beers later, I’m talking to The VP about how “I deserve these.”  And that’s from the rush of running on a treadmill!  Give me the rush of having 30 plus thousand people treating me like the coolest cult leader of all-time and I’d be doing keg stands on the hood of a convertible weaving down a congested highway!

Or maybe they’re not able to overcome those urges and the code of being backstage just shields them from having to publicly admit that they’re actually not sober.  Like, maybe you have to sign a non-disclosure agreement that says “when you see Keith Richards drain his 6 pack of wine bottles, you are not allowed to text your high school friends that Keith’s new biography ‘Sober & Feeling Great!’ is a book of lies”?  And if they’re not drinking or doing drugs or COOL STUFF LIKE THAT, what are these aging bands doing backstage?  Are Keith and Mick sitting at opposite ends of a big open room just flicking each other off in between telling their young girlfriends why The Beatles are overrated?  WE NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS!

“Overnight Pharmacist”

There are 24-hour pharmacies (right? Googling….yep! There are!  Continue!) which means that there are pharmacists who have to work the 11PM to 7AM shift.  And you know what that means?!?!?! Guys with panicked looks on their faces asking for “uh, the, uh, ya’ know that pill that…the no baby pill?” and people TWEAKING out on god knows what handing over “scripts” written in crayon that say: “Just whatever he asks for. Yours Truly, Doctor”.  If I were a pharmacist asked to work the overnight shift, I would insist on wearing a full suit of armor and having a current Navy Seal Sniper Badass Killerguy as my personal bodyguard.

If you’re looking for a magic combination of elements to create drool-worthy reality television, mixing drugs, threats of violence, and darkness with a “person just trying to do their job” seems like a safe bet to me.  As for the production costs, you really wouldn’t have any.  All you’d have to do is outfit the CVS in rural Arkansas with higher grade security cameras and install some microphones and BOOM, get out of the way and let the night do nighttime things!

I will throw a bit of caution in here that this show does have the potential to be insanely sad and depressing and “this is making me feel horrible about everything.”  How do we get around this?  Simple, EDITING.  The editor of this show will play a VITAL role in dumping the inevitably heartbreakingly sad moments that must occur in pharmacies overnight.  Nobody in the world needs to see the stuff that I don’t even want to write about happening because i know that it does and I know that it would make me cry.  So…you know what, let’s just make it easy: let’s just have it be the scenes of people being nervous trying to get Plan B pills or unsuccessfully trying to get other sexual-related drugs.  An old guy coming in with a fake script for Viagra is comedy gold.  GOLD!   In fact, let’s just rename the show “Overnight Pharmacist: Only The Funny Sex Stuff and Not The Sad Other Drug Stuff”.  THAT SHOW DEFINITELY DOESN’T SOUND DEPRESSING!

MY WORLD:

The VP and I went to Nashville this past weekend, and it made me think about whether or not I could move again.  And if I can’t, what does that say about the rest of my life?

When I went to Los Angeles for grad school and student lo-(nobody wants to hear about your debt) I was VERY single and poor at an age where it was socially acceptable to be unable to afford clothes from somewhere other than Old Navy.  When I moved back to Chicago it was for legitimate family and personal reasons and I was still VERY single (The VP is beginning to question all of the “ex-girlfriend” stories…”Was I your first girlfriend?”-VP to me tonight.)  But now at the seasoned age of 33, with a WIFE!, stable job that pays some to most of our bills, and on the verge of maybe trying to become a parent (Am I having a seizure?) do I have the courage to move again?

While out with our BEST FRIENDS who moved to Nashville a couple years ago, and some other super awesome friends of ours, I was flattered to have been asked multiple times “so when are you guys moving down here?”  My answers ranged from “oh, ha ha, we’ll see” to “when you find me a job where the pay is good and the uniform is a t-shirt and minimal effort.”  The real answer is that I may be too scared to bet on being able to restart my life again at 33 when I’m not the only one that matters to me anymore.  The idea of tossing our stuff in a truck and driving off to a new southern adventure is tantalizing, I won’t lie.  But that means finding a new place to live and a new job and dealing with a new boss and what if I have to work for a mean lady?!?! WHAT IF SHE YELLS AT ME AND CALLS ME FARTFACE?!?!

Lately, thoughts of blinking and living the same life 10 years from now have been consistent and consistently terrifying.  When you drive around alone all day, your mind can only stay focused on reality show butlers for so long.  Wading into the murky “what just touched my leg?!?!”-waters of figuring out exactly what I want the VP and my future to be is fun and scary and constant.  Is settling into the rest of our lives right now, not only safe, but the financially responsible thing to do?  We have both have 401k’s!  Or is swinging for something bigger and better than slightly above average, sooner rather than later a risk that we won’t be able to even think about in a few years?  The clock is ticking!  What type of life necessitates shaking it up with a move?  Something worse than ours, right?  There are no answers to these questions, I know.

Courage is what it comes down to.  I mean, planning would be a major part of a potential move too, but it’s courage first and foremost.  Instead of waiting to get suddenly brave or find some big, cool blanket that makes me feel secure enough to stay here, I’ve decided to start something VERY cheesy with The VP.  Starting tomorrow, we are committing a half hour, each night to “Dream Time”: where we will put our phones down, put some music on and start writing down about things or places or (hopefully not people) we want to see and do.  It’s cringeworthy and I’m sure that The VP will not fully appreciate me outing our lameness on an INTERNATIONALLY READ BLOG.  While I may not yet have the courage to pull the trigger on a move or toss an immovable anchor where we currently are, I do have the courage to be honest.  When will we move? Maybe sometime.  Maybe never.  I don’t know, but we are going to start dreaming with our eyes open.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

It’s an emo-Jimmy you’re getting today, so I’m going to lean into it and put up a song that reflects how where I’m at.  The lyrics are insightful and if you don’t sway in your chair while listening to this then you’re dead.

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Putting on a pair of pants that you’re sure are tight because they’re a 33 waist but then you take them off to look at the size tag and they’re a 34.  Can someone please invent cookie-flavored diet pills?  Tysm.

JIMMY GAMBLES

No lie, I’ve been taking big-time baths lately on baseball because betting baseball, apparently, IS FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE.  Football is coming soon and with it will come the return of this section.

(My account currently at $4.71)

K bye.

When Do We Get To Stop Lying? (7/11/18)

MY WORLD:

Last night The VP and I didn’t know what to do for dinner so we walked around the corner to some Mexican joint we’ve walked pass no less than ten hundred trillion times.  It’s on a busy, shitty street and neither of us had ever heard of anyone who had tried it before so it had been easy to overlook.  But whatever, we couldn’t make a decision so we chose the path of least resistance, figuring, how bad could it be?

And then we ate there and it was bad (what a story, Jimmy!!!  Keep up this writing thing! Riveting stuff!)  The server was not good at her job; giving The VP an “I don’t know” when asked whether the enchiladas were spicy.  As a former server myself, I’m allowed to pick on them now, and this lady was awful.  If you went to a doctor and asked what your treatment would entail, and she responded “I don’t know,” you’d find another doctor.  So, off the bat, I was pissed that this woman couldn’t even fake pretending to be competent at her job.  Then the food came.

It wasn’t the kind of bad where you can’t touch it, but more the type where you’re really hungry so you keep eating and saying “it’s fine,” to each other.  If you ever want to feel like a dog willing to eat whatever is put in your bowl, try going to a mediocre Mexican restaurant where the only dinner conversation that’s allowed are the words “it’s fine.”  (Does Belle say “it’s fine” every morning while eating that stale kibble from the giant plastic bag?  Well, that’s because she can’t talk because she is a dog.)  

When we finished, I went up to pay and our server asked how everything was.  And this is what sparked what I wanted to write about this morning (finally!  You sure you don’t want to blather on for another 3 paragraphs?!?!) I told the server that “it was good!”  I even put an emphasis on the word “good” where I made myself sound excited when I said it.  She smiled and I tipped her over 20% because of 33 year-old guilt complexes ONLY.  But it made me feel like a dirty fucking liar.  Why did I owe it to this stranger who couldn’t have been trying less at her job to make her feel like she and her place of employment earned my money?  It’s like letting your dog up on the bed when she whines, or giving a kid a cookie when he starts to cry; simply reinforcing bad behavior.

I think there are a lot of sanctimonious people who love telling anyone with ears that they “never lie.”  Well, I’d like to call that bluff.  If these people “never lie,” then are they telling their 16 year-old waiter at the local Italian restaurant that their meatballs sucked ass?  Because if you tell him they were good, you’re a liar.  I don’t support conflating “being nice” with lying; these are mutually exclusive terms.  The manner in which your honesty reveals itself, is when we can determine whether you’re nice or not.  If I would’ve said “the food sucked. I hated the way you performed your job, and your hair is dumb” it would’ve been honest, but not nice.  However, who is arguing that I’m a dick if I would’ve said “the enchiladas were cold, and the service could’ve been more helpful”?  (Uh, I’m arguing that.)  Isn’t that constructive criticism that could, ultimately, help this restaurant?    (Please support Dickhead Jimmy’s crusade to save the shitty restaurants of the world!!!)

As we walked home, The VP could probably feel me stewing (were you grinding?  Well then how could she feel you?) I definitely said “you know what? That was not good” a few times, as if to atone for my recent LIE.  The VP, sensing that I was on the verge of some rant that she didn’t feel like placating, simply agreed and changed the subject quickly (which explains why you’re dumping it on the readers today.  Thanks Jimmy!)  But, I’m tired of the white lies.  I’M SICK OF EM!  Am I also sick of my cowardice taking over too many times in order to avoid a somewhat awkward, albeit honest, interaction with a stranger? Yeah, that too.  Here are some other “white lie” situations that leave me feeling like a dirty fucking liar afterwards:

Whenever I thank and tip an Uber driver whose car smells like a lumberjack’s armpit and drives like he’s auditioning to be “Car Crash Victim #7” in the next “Mission Impossible” movie.

Is there a worse feeling in the entire universe than getting into an Uber, closing the door and then having your nostrils flare as you realize “oh no, I’m in a smelly car”?  (There are worse feelings, but g’head make your point!)  If your car is your livelihood and you work in a tip-based industry, wouldn’t you want to make sure that your car doesn’t make your customers want to vomit?  I used to chalk it up to a “who gives a fuck?”-attitude on the part of the driver, but now I’m convinced that they just don’t know that their car smells like ass because NOBODY has the stones to tell them.  The driver has simply become immune to the chronic B.O. smell of their car and is none the wiser thanks to cowardly passengers such as myself.

Then there are the drivers who dart in and out of lanes while mixing in the occasional seatbelt check of a slam on the brakes.  Here’s a deal: if I have bruises across my chest from the hard stops of an Uber driver, the ride is free.  Do drivers like this end up saving any meaningful amount of time?  I’m convinced that they simply raise the blood pressure of every driver around them while saving POSSIBLY 9 seconds on total drive time.  Traffic is death: there’s no escaping it. (Wow, deep.)  

Whenever I’m in either of these types of Ubers-or both at the same time!-I end up just grumbling to myself or The VP the entire ride, only to thank the driver on my way out of the car and give him/her the standard “I’m not looking at my phone” Uber tip.  This is why these drivers drive like this, guys!  THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING!  If I would take the time to tell the Uber driver that the smell of his car reminded me of a high-school mathematician convention (Nerd B.O. is the most pungent), he/she may think “oh, maybe I should get my car cleaned or, at least, make sure I drive with the windows open.”  Even if I left a bad review under the “stanky car, cranky driver” reason, that would surely help.  If we all band together we can put an end to this epidemic!  FOLLOW ME! FOLLOW ME TO FREEDOM!

Whenever I talk about how my life is going to my grandfather.

I’m sure Grandpa Irv doesn’t want to hear about my struggles with staying away from sugar and drinking too much, but telling him everything is “really good” is depriving him the chance to impart some wisdom of his.  (Is that sarcastic?) No, that’s not sarcasm.  I’ve been thinking about how every time I’m around my grandpa, I answer every question he asks about my life by starting with “it’s really good, actually.”  Uh, that’s a lie.  Everything isn’t bad, but isn’t everyone creeped out with the person in their life who ALWAYS says that EVERYTHING is going GREAT?  Does that mean my grandpa is secretly creeped out by me? (Yes!) I’m imagining him going home with his girlfriend-yeah, he has a girlfriend-and being like “isn’t it creepy how Jimmy says that everything in his life is ‘really good’?  He must be doing drugs or just plain stupid.”  I bet his girlfriend nods along in agreement and they go to sleep thinking I’m some sort of simpleton.  THIS IS AN UNMITIGATED DISASTER!

If I were my grandpa, I’d go into these grandkid hang sessions somewhat excited about getting to share some of the knowledge I’d gained from being around for so long.  The way I can try to steer my younger brothers from mistakes I made, he could steer me away from potential adulthood missteps that he took.  But you can’t give advice to someone who only insists that everything is “really good, actually.”  He could press me on it, but what a waste of energy that is.  He’s probably like, “fine, you don’t want my advice, I don’t need to give it.  Have fun in that one bedroom apartment on the west side!”  Maybe if I was honest and told him that I’m worried about providing for a family while trying to pay off some preposterous student loans, he’d enlighten me with some comforting words.  Maybe he was in his 30s when he founded his carpet business that ended up paving the way for the comfortable life he has been able to lead?  Maybe he could light the spark for me to take some risks that I’m too afraid to take now?  But no, I’m content with little white lies about my life so as not to burden him with problems that aren’t his own.

That being said, there is the off-chance that I’m totally honest with him the next time we’re together and it causes him to back away from the table making “yuck” sounds before saying “good luck with all of that!”  It’s a risk I am simply too insecure to take.  But like, hey Grandpa, if you’re reading this and want to send me an inspirational e-mail, that’d be VV chill of you.

Whenever I talk to or about little babies…to anyone. 

I’m just lying the entire time I’m talking about little babies.  I’m talking like when they’re real new babies, I don’t know how to talk about them.  They all look basically the same, aside from some have hair and some don’t, and all they do is cry and poop and move some of their fingers sometimes.  Which parent does he/she look like?  I never have any idea and yet, usually, just lie and make some lame joke about he looks like the local mailman.  (Those jokes are never not funny FYI.)  I’ll “talk” to the baby in a higher pitched voice and talk about how cute it is, but like, can we be real?  They can’t understand me and I don’t know if it’s cute.  It looks like every other baby I’ve ever seen.  I’m sure some parents are reading this and labeling me a dick, but why am I supposed to be excited to interact with a thing that has no discernible look or personality?  It’s like getting mad at someone for not being excited to meet and speak with a new floor.  “Oh wow!  It’s wood and kinda smooth!”

This doesn’t mean that I’m not proud of friends of mine who have had little babies.  (Oh, is this the part where you protect yourself?) When I’m around friends of mine or The VPs who have had kids, I am instantly impressed that they have the maturity and stability to ensure the survival of a helpless creature.  These parent-friends of mine LITERALLY have to save their babies’ lives multiple times a day, and I’m writing a blogpost complaining about mediocre enchiladas.  Yeah, you’re more advanced than me!

However, when these life-saving heroes ask me about their 3 week-old’s personality, I wanna be like “uh, to be honest, your baby reminds me of my fingernail.  Like, I know it’s a living thing, but I’m not getting much in the way of a relationship.  I hope I don’t break it.”  While that may be an instance of being honest without being nice, this is really a no-win situation.  If I were to say “it has no discernible personality and looks like every baby I’ve ever seen,” the parents aren’t going to regale me with praise for my honesty.  So I’m forced to lie and walk away feeling like complicit in society’s rouse to make every kid feel more special than they really are.  (That got dark and kinda’ heavy there, bud.  Maybe tone it down a notch next time?)

OUR WORLD:

It’s Wednesday and today’s “My World” section ran long.  See ya’ out there.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

If you know me well, you know that I can’t handle scary movies because I’m a baby and they give me nightmares and I don’t like being scared.  BUT!  Every once in a blue moon, I kinda’ want to see one.  The trailer for the newest Halloween movie looks prettttayyyyy pretttttayyyyy sweet.  May have to man up and check this out.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The Little League World Series is starting soon and that means that I won’t want to watch ESPN for like 3 weeks.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

Cool, guys.  I let you know who I was betting on yesterday for the first time in weeks and you all jinx me.  As if I need another reason to hate France, now they’ve actually taken money out of my pocket by beating Belgium yesterday.  I guess I’m going to bet on England today because…I don’t know where Croatia actually is.  That seems like sound reasoning.  WHAT COULD GO WRONG?!?!

(My account is currently at $31.44)

K bye.

 

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

MY WORLD:

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

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

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

1)  I work out.

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

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

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

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

6)  I think Robert DeNiro is awesome.

7)  I have a jawline.

8)  I own a dog who loves me.  

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

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

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

LET’S GET TO A FUN LIST NOW!

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

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

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

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

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

Interpol “Rest My Chemistry” I miss this band.

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

K bye

 

 

 

THIS BACHELORETTE STINKS LIKE POOP-AND-WHY I’M NOW A CLUB GUY (6/12/18)

OUR WORLD:

I’m close to being out on this season of The Bachelorette, guys.  When the episode started last night, I was having too much fun cooking shrimp tacos and drinking a beer by myself in the kitchen that I just told The VP to let me know if anything crazy happened.  The tacos were actually done and I just kept stirring the shrimps while sipping my DEEEELISH beer and making “AHHHH!” sounds after ever sip.  After a few, “Oh my god”s coming from the living room, though, I felt it was my duty to soldier on through this episode (salute my sacrifice!)  Unfortunately, after toughing my way through that 2 hours of GUCK, I felt even closer to being out.  Let’s go over some reasons why:

1)  Becca is the definition of “Meh”:  The VP does not think she’s hot at all and I go back and forth on it.  She dresses like a dickhead, and when Jimmy Fashion is calling out your outfit choices, you KNOW there’s an issue.  We get it, you have a flat stomach.  Now, how ’bout you act like the near-30 year old you are and wear a full shirt.  (Grandpa Jimmy’s getting his gun! RUN!!!)  Aside from debating about her looks (Which I didn’t even want to do because that’s superficial and stuff.  The VP goes into mean-girl mode and drags me down with her.  SHE MAKES ME DO IT!)  She’s not interesting or funny or villainous or….ANYTHING EXCEPT “MEH”, though.  Has she said anything that has made you close to laughing?  She had the perfect opportunity to dunk on Jordan with a joke about his tinder stuff and, instead, she gave a super awkward, passive-aggressive high-five.  Look, Jordan is a tool (I actually don’t totally hate him FWIW) but maybe Becca could break out something better than her best ABC Family joke?  When she did that and then tried to calm Jordan down by saying “I was just trying to lighten the mood with a joke” I almost drove to the bazooka store to buy a bazooka5000 JUST to shoot my 11 year-old Vizio flat-screen to FUCKING BITS!   Next time you’re trying to lighten the mood, make one person in the entire world at least chuckle.

I also think that Becca took acting classes taught by a former construction worker recovering from the “look out for that huge steel beam!”-moment.  Are producers telling her to ham up every minor difficulty?  Sure, but that’s where anyone who ISN’T an AWFUL actress, just bites their lip and shakes their head while saying “I just don’t know…”  Becca, on the other hand, tries to force tears any chance she gets while saying things like “I have nothing left.”  She actually said “I have nothing left” when Clay told her he had to leave the show.  Really Becca?  Clay, while a nice enough dude, was about as charismatic as a used paper towel and had ZERO chance of actually winning this show.  Walgreens not having your favorite flavor of KIND Bars is more emotionally devastating than Clay leaving the show.  Meanwhile, Becca is clawing near her eyes to wipe away her nonexistent tears.  I’m no eye-makeup expert (please do not bring up my college emo phase thx!) but if a woman who wears GOBS of eye-makeup, like Becca, started crying, wouldn’t SOMETHING run down her cheek? IT’S LIKE SHE TAKES US FOR FOOLS!

2)  Who are we supposed to be rooting for?  I think the answer to this question is Colton, but how hard can you root for a virgin football player?  (Jesus, Jimmy’s banging on the virgin again….YOU BET I FUCKIN’ AM!)  Seriously, you’re one WHOPPER of a DOOF if you can’t parlay being in the N-F-FRIGGIN-L into one. sexual. encounter.  Lying about playing HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL got me laid; this dude has NFL YouTube highlights and can’t get past first base with Tia.  I’m sorry, but when you’re a guy who’s just a little too sweet and nice and cute…you enter into Creepsville.  Colton seems to be on a mission to Creepsville, USA.

So who else?  Garrett?  Oh, you mean the douche who supports the theory about David Hogg and the Parkland students being crisis actors? Yeah, I’m gonna pass on this Alex Jones fanboy.  If you haven’t read up on the tweets and instagram posts that Garrett liked, do yourself a favor and google it.  The VP had tried telling me about it throughout the first few episodes but I wanted to ignore it because trashy TV isn’t supposed to be political!  But…uh….this dude is just an asshole.  In a sick way, I’m hoping he wins and Becca has to spend the entire reunion show explaining how she doesn’t support making fun of the trans community, tossing immigrant children over a wall, and bullying high school kids who had their friends murdered in front of them.  Because Garrett, that fun-loving, gun-toting outdoorsman who just wants to show Becca a good time, enjoys all of those things.  Who else would love getting to see Chris Harrison squirm as he asks Becca what she thinks of Trump’s barbaric immigration policies?  (Here’s a link to the tweets/instagram posts that Garrett liked: https://twitter.com/AshleySpivey/status/999755526257954816/photo/1)

The one guy who is worthy of rooting for is the stuntman Leo (SWOON ALERT!).  The dude with the preposterous hair who makes me laugh in his 48 seconds of weekly screen time, however, has about the same chance of winning as my great great grandfather which is funny because HE’S DEAD!  (Yikes, that was dark.)  Barring another “he fell off the top bunk”-situation, the final 3 look to be Garrett, Colton, and Blake.  A triumvirate better known as “Who gives a shit?”

3)  The villains aren’t “villain-y” enough:  The VP does seem to genuinely hate Jordan, but how seriously can you hate a guy who talks the way he does?  His whole “my professionality is my personality” diatribe was just plain silly.  The guys around him were kinda laughing and that’s not what villains engender.  You remember Chad?  Guys were peeing their pants around him because he was so scary.  If one of them would’ve made the “I’m trying not to laugh”-face that all the dudes were making during Jordan’s spat, Chad would’ve torn their heads off their necks and snacked on their brains.  LITERALLY, GUYS!  And Jordan’s nemesis is weasel-faced David who isn’t coordinated enough to SLEEP without sending himself to the ICU.  Also, real quick real quick, in the history of “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette” has a tattle-tail ever won?  When David ran to tell Mom, I mean Becca, about Jordan’s tinder stuff he might as well have just left the house.  Is Jordan a tool? Of course.  But, David is a rich kid with that permanent “You obviously don’t know who my father is”-smirk.  Did you see any of the SNL skits this year where they’d have Don Jr. and Eric Trump acting like petulant, idiot babies?  DAVID IS THE SNL-EXAGGERATED VERSION OF ERIC TRUMP:

If you want me to hate a character, as ABC obviously does with Jordan, you’ve gotta give me a better adversary than the “where are the railings on the top bunk?”-guy.

MY WORLD:

I went to kind of a club place a couple weekends ago, and I think I’m a club-guy now! (Jimmy NOOOOO!!!!!)  Let me know explain.  The VP had some super cool Southern friends in town (Southern girls > Northern girls.  FACTS ONLY IN THIS BLOG!) and they wanted me to meet up with them after a work thing I had.  It wasn’t just me and the gals as there were some boyfriends there too (don’t hate the juicy goss I get to hear when it is just me and the gals TBH) but they were at some place in downtown Chicago I had never heard of.  Place I haven’t heard of PLUS downtown Chicago definitely means it was clubby.  Knowing this, I decided NOT to change my outfit following my work thang.  This meant that I showed up to a club in dirty shorts that are no less than 7 years old, high-socks, gym shoes, and a backwards hat.  The VP was mortified.  My entrance was a success.

Being the worst dressed male on the disastrously douchey rooftop, and making The VP incredibly uncomfortable in the process, turned into the most fun I’ve had in a club maybe ever?  Looking like a high school gym teacher in a sea of hair gel and vodka sodas wasn’t enough for me, though.  I would only be drinking canned beers and would NOT be shy about throwing out some painfully uncoordinated “sway-like” dance moves while standing next to The VP.  Whenever I’d feel her getting some separation from Coach Me, I’d throw my chin up in the air and belch out a thick Chicago-accented “hey babe, where you going?!?!” I never call her “babe” and I never talk in a thick Chicago accent.  I was on a mission to be THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE of every other guy on that rooftop.

While some may say this whole charade was simply a weak attempt to mask my insecurities, I would say…yeah, that’s probably right.  In all likelihood, I was in the bottom 11% of guys on that rooftop in terms of looks and bank accounts.  If I’m being completely SUPREMELY honest, there were some guys up there who I’m pretty sure were male models.  They were tools, but one of them danced with a friend of The VP and all I could think was “thank God, Captain Delicious didn’t ask The VP for a dance” because he was way bigger and better looking than me.  If, after a few “hey, I’m just casual”-canned beers, Captain Delicious would have hit on The VP, I would’ve said something like say “Hey…can you not do that?” while simultaneously praying that this dude didn’t feel like showing The VP how far he could throw me.  Thankfully, the adonis I referred to in my head as “Captain Delicious” danced with The VPs friend a few yards away from me; allowing me to whisper cutting remarks about his DUMB HAT in the VPs ear.  Yeah, I’m one tough hombre.

Following this near-death experience, though, I went back to making The VP uncomfortable while earning a beer buzz in a place known for low-cal libations.  The music was silly and thumpy, but different enough that me yelling “how about some Incubus?!?!” at the DJ  earned a few chuckles.  (Real talk: who wants to open an Incubus-only bar with me?  Incubus on the speakers, and a menu that only consists of nachos and cheap whiskey shots.  GET READY FOR FUN!)  Clubs are supremely uncomfortable for non-douchebags when they’re single.  However, 6 years later, when these non-douchebags are now married, clubs are a bastion of inadvertent comedy.  Now that I’m married and in my 30s, I’m a club guy.  CATCH ME ON THE DANCE FLOOR!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Getting a chocolate chip cookie from Potbelly at lunch because it’s your birthday week and calories don’t count that week.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Getting sleepy at work 2 hours after you ate a massive sandwich and chocolate chip cookie from Potbelly during your birthday week.

K bye.

 

 

 

Rules When Sitting Alone At The Bar and Jimmy Fashion (6/8/18)

OUR WORLD:

Since sitting alone in bars is part of my job (professional Sad?) I’ve developed proven methods to give off “no, it’s okay, I’m not a sad person”-vibes.  It’s tricky, really, toeing the line between self-assured, creepy and sad while sitting alone at a bar, but when done properly, can make you feel like one of the cool movie guys who make you want to get into cigarettes again.  (Then you’ll probably go overboard and try rolling the pack in your short sleeve like James Dean until you catch your profile in a mirror and realize that your jawline is NOT chiseled.)  I’m planning for “The Rules of Being Alone At A Bar” to be recurring posts.  Let’s try these out first:

NEVER SIT DIRECTLY NEXT TO SOMEONE WHEN THERE ARE OTHER SPOTS OPEN:  What’s worse than sitting at a bar with a bunch of open seats, and some chode picks the seat right next to you?  Everyone knows that there should be one seat in between each party at the bar and if I owned a bar, I would actually mandate this by allowing my customers to place sharp metal spikes on the seats flanking their party at the bar.  Would there be some bloody butts? If it keeps the creeps fromma’ creepin’, then it’s well worth it.  Girls, wouldn’t you be much more likely to go to the Spikey Seat bar than risk having Hairy Jerry and his double vodkas sitting next to you and your friends on a Friday night?

If you are reading this and thinking “I like to sit next to strangers at the bar because I’m open to meeting new people!” just stop fibbing yourself.  The whole “meeting new people”-catchphrase was started by some hippy who wrote a book or something that confused affability with harassment.  What, you can’t talk to someone if your love-handle isn’t resting on their thigh?  (Side note: ever look at people seating at the bar from behind? NOBODY looks good.  It’s like a row of ziplock bags stuffed full of melting gelato with heads on top.  Oh, and the heads? Most have bald spots.)  

MAKE FRIENDS WITH THE BARTENDER WITHOUT A FULL-BLOWN CONVERSATION:  Not every bartender is an amateur psychiatrist thrilled to diagnose all the problems you’re dumping on their doorstep.  Remember especially if they’re over the age of 35, they’re doing a job that requires an explanation of “what went wrong” every time they speak to their grandfather.  When I bartended, I did not whistle while I worked.  Instead, I felt trapped between sads and their unprescribed medicines; I got to play the unlicensed doctor setting my patients up for a blip of relief before waking up with a stinging headache.  (I just don’t understand why Jimmy wasn’t a good bartender?!?!)  I was cordial with the alone-people at the bar, but I was overly cautious with them due to the fear of getting caught by a talkative one.  Ever wonder why the bartender acts super busy in a slow bar? He’s probably trying to avoid getting cornered by an alone-person sitting at his bar.  It must be a BILLION-TRILLION-GAJILLION times worse for female bartenders.  Give ’em all purple hearts and lifetime passes to every panic room ever constructed.

As an alone-person at the bar, simply play hard to get with the bartender.  You want to make friends with him because maybe he’ll give you a free drink and most bartenders have cool stories.  So order your bev, thank him or her without really looking at them, and go back to watching the television.  Play it cool, guys.  Keep an eye on what’s going on around the bar and, after a while, you’ll pick up on some of the politics surrounding your seat.  Maybe you’ll see a pouty server or a bitchy customer or an angry boss.  Once you spot this, wait for the bartender to come near you and flip a “I’m with you, brother”-comment the bartender’s way.  For instance, lets say you see a customer send back a drink more than once.  When the bartender nears you, say something like “they seem like fun.”  BOOM, you’re on the bartender’s side.  All most bartenders want to do is complain about their job, so once you open that possibility for them, they’re puddy in your hand.  And guess what?  Alone-you has just made friends with the most popular person in the place.  Congratulations.

DON’T TALK TO THE TELEVISIONS:  You’re not fooling anyone.  The entire bar knows that your running commentary on the muted news program is a signal: YOU’RE DYING FOR SOMEONE TO REACT TO YOU!  I’m not talking about the meatballs who yell at their teams during important sports games (how else would the players know they were fucking up?)  No, I’m talking about the nights at the bar where there aren’t sports on, but they left the TVs on, like, the news.  There’s no sound, but a picture of Trump will come on the screen and the alone-guy DYING FOR A REACTION will blurt out something like “You believe this guy?”  First off, no, I can’t fucking believe that guy.  But more importantly, I don’t want to be goaded into a political conversation with the alone-guy stranger at the bar.  Nobody does EXCEPT for maybe some of the other alone-guys at the bar.  This creates an absolute nightmare scenario where alone-guys are shouting conversation to each other from across the bar.  If you find yourself in one of these shouted convos, stop it right now.  You don’t want to be one of these people for even ONE SECOND of your life.

Now what if you hear one of these alone-people barking at the TV, but you didn’t know that was the situation?  You turned to your left and, all of a sudden, you’re making direct eye-contact with said alone-person right as they’re reaching the climax of their political monologue.  “Shit, alone-guy is gonna take this as a sign I want to engage in this” is what every sane person immediately thinks.  And guess what? Alone-guy DOES take that eye-contact as a sign that you’re in.  As you see television talker alone-guy misread your accidental eye-contact, he’ll shift slightly towards you covered in “let’s have a chat”-body language.  Before he completely turns in his chair, you need to get up and go to the bathroom.  That’s your only way out; straight bail move.  Act like you really need to go and you turning that way was just part of your exit-move.  Hop off your barstool and do a trot-waddle to the bathroom to really drive home the point.  We don’t want to make the alone-guys sad, but it’s every man and woman for themselves whenever the television talker starts acting up.

 

MY WORLD:

I’m in the midst of a sock crisis, and I’m close to just throwing in the towel.  The VP and I have gotten caught WAY behind with our laundry, so we’ve been employing the “lets rummage through the over-stuffed dryer every morning for our outfit”-plan of attack.  Unfortunately, the fruits of these dryer searches are limited to shirts only.  At this point, finding matching socks is about as likely as The VP becoming an ultra-marathoner (I think I’ve seen her run once…in an Ikea parking lot when she thought for a second she was gonna get hit by a car.)  Now, a normal, responsible adult would gather all the hamper socks and devote however long it takes to match socks.  Lest you forget, I am special and have chosen an alternative solution: embracing mismatched socks as “my new look”.  I, Jimmyschair, hereby announce that I am no longer a sheep in the matched sock flock.  Remember, fortune favors the bold.

socks

For those of you who thought Jimmy Fashion was dead: catch me on my yacht.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Dave Matthews Band came out with a new album and I think this is my favorite song on it.  I THINK!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Rainy Fridays in the summer.

WRITING ABOUT GAMBLING ON THE NBA FINALS IS BORING ME SO I’M GOING TO TAKE A BREAK FROM IT FOR A LITTLE BIT.  PLEASE DON’T CRY LIKE “BACHELORETTE” LINCOLN ABOUT THIS.

But real quick, I’m putting the balance of my Bovada account on the Warriors tonight. 

K bye.

Car People and Tight Shorts (6/6/18)

MY WORLD:

 

A few years back, The VP of Ops and I got in a big fight about me being wrong and not admitting it and then getting madder at her for pointing that out and it turned into a real THING.  Mind you, our fights usually consist of me being in some sort of mood (Shut up to all the people saying “such a Gemini”-in their head rn) or The VP just absolutely refusing to admit when she may have been wrong.  It’s the same routine most times where we’ll get mad, kinda snap without yelling, make exchange some cutting remarks in the guise of “being funny”, give each other the silent treatment for a few hours and then gently start to make gentler jokes about the fight as we wait for the other one to apologize first (spoiler alert: IT’S ALWAYS ME BECAUSE GAH FUHBIH SHE EVER ADMITS THAT SHE WAS WRONG!) Anyway, this particular fight a few years back, was ratcheted up a few notches because it happened later in the evening after we had entered HAMMEREDVILLE, USA.  You know those drunk fights where halfway through you catch yourself in a sober flash thinking “wait, why am I mad? Uh oh…I have no idea…DOESN’T MATTER, KEEP GOING!”?  It was one of those.  This night, however, my power move wasn’t just a silent treatment, but it was to retreat to the only place I can truly be myself: my car.  (Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to drive anywhere.  The plan was to sleep in my car…then I realized the backseat was supes uncomfy so I waited another 11 minutes before slithering back into our apartment.  Uh….yeah, I think she got the point!) 

We’re different people in our cars, right? Maybe I’m saying that because I’m in mine a lot and I act like a borderline mental patient in mine, but where else are you alone in a soundproof box with windows?  It’s as close as we’ll ever come to being invisible in public (hey inventors, get off your asses and prove me wrong!) and I don’t know about you guys, but I relish this pseudo-invisibility.  WHO’S WITH ME?  Here are some of my classic “I can do this because I’m alone in a soundproof box”-moves:

-Front-seat Dancing:  Singing is obvious and I can be one basic bitch so, yeah, I sing too, but the seated dance moves I’ve developed are nothing short of…well, probably disappointing.  BUT! While I’m doing them, my brain is flooded with “remember this move next time you’re being looked at on a dance floor!”  (Can someone also have a chair ready for me?)  If you’re curious about what these moves are (WE ARE! JIMMY! WE ARE!) close your eyes TIGHT and think rolling shoulders mixed with pointing fingers that SOMETIMES curl back into air drum routines.  Mind you, these moves are more likely to come out on Thursdays and Fridays as JGT (Jimmy Good Times!!!) nears his weekend entrance.  And the bands/musicians that bring these hotsex seated dance moves out? We’re talking CHVRCHES, Steve Winwood (JGT’S FAVORITE), and maybe some cool-guy “I’m a rapper when I’m alone in my car”-moves for Old Kanye.  I will warn you, however, that if you play any of this music while in the car with me, you will not see these moves.  They are strictly for Alone-In-The-Car-Jimmy.  I have made eye contact with random drivers mid-move, and I immediately stop and look up and away kinda’ like how Michael Cera did during the awkward moments in “Superbad”.

-The “I’m Pissed” Arm Toss:  Middle fingers are so 1999, guys.  When I get mad, and I’m either in front of or directly behind the car that made me mad, I toss my arm up like I’m flinging a frisbee through my sunroof.  Here’s the thing though: there is no frisbee, and I have no sunroof.  You just got hit with the Jimmyschair patented “I’m pissed” arm toss.  And if you’re not feeling guilty for what you and your FUCKING car just did to me? Then I hope you rot in hell.  Now I will say that this move is NOT restricted to Alone-In-The-Car-Jimmy (let’s call Alone-In-The-Car-Jimmy; JimE cuz it’s edgy but still sounds like my name!)  The VP was introduced to the “I’m Pissed” Arm Toss early on in our relaish (what hip lingo doesn’t Jimmy know?!?!) after some pisspants cut me off.  I don’t remember her exact reaction, but it was along the lines of a dripping-sarcastic “wow, my hero!”  I always use my right arm because it’s stronger (thus, more intimidating) and there are no less than 4 tosses per day.  JimE’s thinking? Chicago traffic is bad because there are too many guilt-free drivers not realizing the damage they’re causing by SWITCHING LANES WITHOUT A GODDAMN SIGNAL.  The “I’m Pissed” Arm Toss slings guilt from my Chevy Equinox the way a Catholic Priest does during his sermon.  Should we start calling my right arm Father Arm O’Tossahand?

-Talking to myself:  The invention of speakerphone has provided the perfect cover for talking to yourself in the car.  Even if you’re caught by a red-light neighbor, you can shoot the “I’m on the phone”-look (there’s a look for that? YEAH DUMMY!) Whether it’s preparing for an upcoming presentation; or running a “mock argument” that I’m anticipating later that day; or pretending that I’m being interviewed by a late-night talk show host, there is no shortage of my voice in my car.  What’s weird about talking to yourself is that if you do in front of people, you’re obviously a LOON.  BUT! I would also posit (nice word) that if you don’t do it while you’re alone, you are simply a different breed of LOON.  Are there actually people who never talk to themselves?  Is that the origin story of every socially awkward person?  (Jimmy seems to really want to convince us that talking to yourself is not only not crazy, but normal.  Hey Jimmy, PLEASE START TAKING PILLS PRESCRIBED BY A LICENSED PSYCHIATRIST!) This morning, for instance, I have about an hour-long commute, during which I plan to hold an interview where my current-self asks my future-self all about why it took so long for me (us?) to break into Hollywood’s writing scene.  I can’t wait to give humble answers.

OUR WORLD:

Hopefully, you haven’t been like me lately and eating copious amounts of cheese dips.  My summer bod is taking a hiatus that my shorts from last year were NOT prepared for.  Therefore, I am entering a “I’m going to try to eat super healthy during the week, so I can pig out on weekends without having to buy all new summer clothes”-diet.  If, unfortunately, you are like me and are looking to enter a similar shorts-saving campaign, here is what I have eaten and plan to eat for the rest of this week’s dinner.  I give you, some healthy meals that don’t suck:

-Baked Chicken Wings:  As long as you don’t coat them in flour or use butter in your buffalo sauce, I think we’re pretty gucci here. On its own, buffalo sauce ain’t that bad for you according to my brain when it looks at the nutritional info on the back of the Frank’s Buffalo Sauce bottle.

-Turkey Tacos:  Lean turkey meat with taco seasoning is FINE, and I’m pretty sure if you use corn tortillas, it’s basically like eating corn…which is a vegetable and, therefore, GOOD FOR YOU.  Skip the sour cream, but allow a little cheese.  Atkins allows cheese and it’s kinda’ Atkins-y, so the cheese is okay.

-Skirt Steak with Chimichurri and Asparagus:  Chimichurri is like limey pesto and errbody knows I love me some pesto.  Skirt Steak is protein and protein is good because muscle guys talk about it a lot.  The asparagus makes your pee smell weird which is a sign that you’re keeping your body on it’s toes with this new healthy-you.  Watch out bod, things are a changing!

-Grilled Chicken and Broccoli:  I’m not gonna lie, this is a boring-ass meal.  However, you need to throw in one super healthy boring meal a week so you have something to truly brag about to your friends this weekend.  Get ready to drop health-bombs on them like “it’s so nice not having to have another chicken and broccoli dish this week!”  All your friends will get quiet and think to themselves “shit, what did he mean by another?  I didn’t even have ONE chicken and broccoli meal this week!”  That’s cuz you’re not as healthy as us, SUCKER!

And then Friday night comes and everything goes to hell.  GOOD LUCK TO ME AND US AND EVERYONE WITH LAST YEAR’S SHORTS! (Or in my case, shorts I think I bought at least 6 years ago.)

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When your dog starts barking at a sound they hear in your apartment building, but before you can yell at them to be quiet, they run over to “protect” you.  There’s part of me that kinda’ hopes that one day someone bursts through the door and calls Belle’s bluff.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Shaving.  I’m putting it off because it’s never NOT annoying.  I feel bad that girls can’t grow leg beards and, like guys, just be like “it’s a new look I’m trying out.”  Of course they can, but like…maybe don’t.  Please.

WRITING ABOUT GAMBLING ON THE NBA FINALS IS BORING ME SO I’M GOING TO TAKE A BREAK FROM IT FOR A LITTLE BIT.  PLEASE DON’T CRY LIKE “BACHELORETTE” LINCOLN ABOUT THIS.

K bye.

 

 

 

 

 

“The Bachelorette” Recap: The Biggest Wuss in America. (6/5/18)

OUR WORLD:

Can we cool it with the crying, guys?  Last night’s episode of “The Bachelorette” was embarrassing for men everywhere.  EVERYWHERE.  From Lincoln crying about his picture with Becca being tossed into the pool, to that Southern NOBODY making an ALL-TIME cry-face after he got booted, last night may go down in history as the night millennial’s ruined manhood in America.  This episode, though, was about one thing and one thing only: Lincoln taking the crown of “Biggest Wuss in America”

I’m all for a sensitive moment, here or there, but how come every goddamn moment in this show has to be the guy proving to Becca that he’s capable of embarrassing his grandfather?  Let’s try to go through this as best as I can remember, because I am NOT going to rematch that atrocity to make sure I get the sequencing right (I HAVE WORN A TIE 4 TIMES IN THE PAST YEAR FOR CHRISSAKE!!!)  

The Lincoln Crying Part

First off, Linocln’s accent really does sound like he’s a community theater actor trying WAY too hard.  Now when the episode started and you saw guys acting excited about “being pampered” by getting to put on tuxedos, we all should’ve known that this was the start of something epically embarrassing.  What guy gets his rocks off by drinking champagne and trying on tuxedos?  That’s a fun date for a guy?  Guess I’m more of a loose cargo shorts and chicken fingers kinda’ guy (SWOON ALERT!  Also, I don’t really wear cargo shorts anymore, but I miss the times when I did.) Here’s an idea: let’s drink something that no man ACTUALLY likes while wearing clothes that make you feel like your entire body is choking.  WAIT, DO WE GET TO DRINK CHAMPAGNE IN TUXEDOS?!?! AND THESE DUDES WERE ACTING LIKE IT WAS CHRISTMAS MORNING.  Once I saw this, I turned to the VP with a “something is afoot”-look.  She knew too.

Following this misplaced excitement, Chris Harrison and the GENIUS producers threw a twist in: obstacle course time.  Guess what, Champagne Papi’s?  TIME TO GET MESSY!  YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO CRAWL THROUGH MUD!  They should’ve made the obstacle course ACTUALLY difficult and had them run up to a family member who fought in a war and then have to explain how much they enjoyed the champagne and fashion show. “Hey Grandpa Bill, remember that time you told me about you hunting Nazis in the middle of the night when you were 19?  Well, I don’t mean to show you up, but I’m 26 and just cried because I got to try on a tuxedo.”  COOL!

Lincoln “won” this obstacle course because he cheated.  Two questions: 1) What in the LIVING FUCK was Chris Harrison doing?  Was he too busy preparing to remind all the guys that one rose left on the table means that “this is the final rose” to, I don’t know, POINT OUT BLATANT CHEATING?  This should’ve been Chris “The Captain of I-Have-Done-Nothing-Meaningful-With-My-Life Mountain” Harrison’s shining moment as he swooped in with a hand in Lincoln’s cheating-ass chest to push him back to the ice tub.  But no.  Yet again, Chris Harrison’s inactivity reminds us that he’s television’s most useless human being.  The person who refill’s Hoda Kotb’s backstage wine during “The Today Show” contributes more to the success of that show than Chris Harrison does to this.

SECOND QUESTION:  None of the guys throw a John McEnroe type fit about this cheating?  They just take it like the losers they are.  This was the perfect set up for a star-making comedy turn if one of these guys would’ve lost their mind.  Maybe they get kicked off the show, but at least they’re known as the funny guy who stands up for FAIRNESS!  If it were me, I would’ve taken my shirt off, lit it on fire and whipped it around my head while screaming “WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY BASED ON RULES!!!!”

Later that night, Lincoln and his mood ring of an accent got all emotional when Becca gave him a picture of him with her after the obstacle course “victory.”  Him pretending that this was meaningful almost caused me to punch myself IN THE FUCKING FACE.  “Oh, a picture from earlier today…sweeeeeet….”  Nope, this dumbass picture was enough for Lincoln to declare this as “the best first date” of his life.  OUCH, BRO.  VERY OUCH.  How do you think the “second best first date” of Lincoln’s life went?  The girl kick him in the nuts and staple a “I have no real friends” sign to his forehead?  (“Yes, that girl did fire a staple into my forehead, but my Aunt bought me this ice cream cone so, all in all, it was a pretty good night.”-Lincoln re: the second best first date of his life, as blood pours from his forehead onto his vanilla ice cream.)  

The episode really kicked into overdrive, though, once Fitness Coach Connor (I said I’m not a trainer!) tossed the framed photo of Lincoln and Becca into the pool.  I actually respected the move at the time.  This group of dudes was WAY overdue for a meathead moment, and this was kinda’ close to that.  I was in.  But then Lincoln tattled to Becca which eventually led to Connor giving a HEARTFELT APOLOGY.  WHAT?!?!?!!? Once Connor found out that Lincoln ran to Becca to cry about that dumb picture taking a dive, he should’ve gone to the nearest gun store to buy a sawed-off JUST so he could put it to Lincoln’s head. “Now Lincoln, you’re gonna be a good boy and go back to Becca to tell her that you dropped the picture in the pool and that your good friend Connor dove in to pick it up for you.”  I’ve decided that firearms need to be introduced to this season of “The Bachelorette”.

Instead, though, Connor forced up some “that’s not me”-type apology re: the picture in the pool.  If you weren’t yelling “oh give me a fucking break!” at your television by this point, we may be different species.  Not only that, but that apology WASN’T ENOUGH FOR BECCA.  She still had to throw the “I just need some time” at Connor.  Some time for what?  To remember that grown man Lincoln ran to you like a teacher at recess?  Hey Becca, is that the kind of guy you want to BE THE FATHER TO YOUR CHILDREN?!?!?!

Lincoln wasn’t done, though.  Nope.  No way.  The next morning, while recounting this picture in the pool situation, he started crying in front of a group of guys that weren’t there.  This was the most unbelievable crying situation I’ve ever seen.  UN. BE. LIEV. ABLE.  A 26 year-old man who is built like a friggin’ adonis just cried in front of a group of guys about a picture of him with a girl he had spoken MAYBE 4 sentences to in his entire life.  You know the Starbucks barista you’ve seen a few times?  Now imagine being surrounded by a bunch of strangers, all guys, and crying about a picture of you and that Starbucks barista that was tossed into a pool.  “She always put just the right amount of foam on top of my latte!”  During this whole scene, I was DYING for one of these guys to go into straight-bully mode: point at Lincoln, laugh like any movie villain EVER, and try to stuff him in a closet somewhere in that big, dumb house.  If you showed a video of this scene during an Anti-Bully rally, you’d see the entire crowd shrug like “are we sure we don’t want ANY bullies?”

If you still think that guys with muscles can’t be ALL-TIME-WIMPS, I would like to introduce you to Bachelorette Lincoln, “The Biggest Wuss in America”.

A QUICK JIMMYSCHAIR SUGGESTION IN LIEU OF A “MY WORLD”:

The pilot episode for “Succession” on HBO was one of the best pilot episodes I have seen in a while.  Terrific acting plus solid writing equals ME LIKEY.  If you’re looking for a new show to get into, “Succession” has “You’re going to talk to your friends about this”-written all over it.  Supposedly, other reviews said the episode was “boring.”  Too bad those other reviews are stupid and should be IMMEDIATELY redacted because that is PATENTLY WRONG.  It’s funny and smart, and if you don’t think Brian Cox is the best “angry old-guy” actor going, you need to get your head out of the sand, pal!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I like this remix because I’m YOUNG!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Supposedly, this guy saw this kid messing with a bunch of cars in the parking lot, and tried to put a stop to it.  Aside from hating this kid, the reason I hate this video is that there wasn’t some other kid to act like a hero by jumping in with a tire iron to WHOMP this little brat.  If we’re being totally honest, I would’ve been fine if this adult threw this kid into an active volcano, but I don’t think I can totally advocate for that in a public forum such as this.  If, however, someone the same age as this kid, showed up with a home-run swing and a rusty tire iron, we’d all be happy, right?

 

WRITING ABOUT GAMBLING ON THE NBA FINALS IS BORING ME SO I’M GOING TO TAKE A BREAK FROM IT FOR A LITTLE BIT.  PLEASE DON’T CRY LIKE “BACHELORETTE” LINCOLN ABOUT THIS.

K bye.

Bachelorette Pt. 2 and Acting Young (6/1/18)

OUR WORLD:

Who’s ready for part 2 of Jimmy’s “Rapid Fire Judgement Zone”?!?! I AM FEELING VERY JUDGY THIS MORN!!!!

Jason NY

Jason “Sr. Corporate Banker” (New York):  A banker who uses a TON of gel in his hair is a little too on the nose, right?  This is the kind of guy that only drinks vodka sodas at the bar while gently touching his hair to make sure it’s not out of place.  NOPE.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He stays a little longer than you’d think because he starts to blend into the background and Becca forgets that he’s there.  Then, one night when Becca is having an especially hard time figuring out who to send packing, Chris Harrison reminds her that Jason is still there.  Relieved, Becca sprints to the rose ceremony and tosses Jason out like a surly umpire throwing a high school brat out of a playoff game.  YOUUUUU’REEEEE OUTTTTTAA HEEEEEERRRRRREEEEE!

Jean Blanc

Jean Blanc “Colognoisseur” (Florida):  You know me by now, right?  Take a wild guess how I feel about a guy who collects expensive colognes, talks about “accouterments”, and wears a MONSTER bow tie…Here’s a somewhat controversial take: he’s the least likable person on the show so far.  Hear me out!  We’ll get to the male model later, but this guy seems VERY GENUINE about being a “colognoisseur”.  Like, I don’t think ABC producers have told him to ramp it up.  If anything, I imagine the producers were like “jesus, this dude is REALLY into spray bottles full of smells.”  I don’t have any cologne-guys for friends.  Maybe some of them wear it, but I have never had a friend talk to me about their cologne.  If they did, I would immediately label them “cologne guy” and loudly ask them in public places “What scent did you go with today, Terry?!?!”  Villains are into cologne, not heroes.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  Becca gets rid of this guy in like 3 episodes.  She has to catch on to his ever-changing scents, right?  That’s a red flag, y’all.

Joe.jpg

Joe “Grocery Store Owner” (Illinois):  I want to like this guy more than I did (spoiler alert: he gone)  The VP was ALL IN on this dude, and I kinda’ get it.  He was endearing when he choked during his first interaction with Becca, but he’s a grocery store owner who looks 15 years older than he is.  A Chicago guy with a non-flashy job seemed right up my alley, but then he just…got…a little….too into talking about watermelons.  Hey guy, “I sell watermelons” isn’t an awesome pick-up line.  You think Becca couldn’t wait to call her family later that night to tell them “I think I’m falling for the watermelon salesman!”  Quit fibbing yourself, bro.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He was booted, but The VP still loves him.  This means that for the next 3 months, any guy in Chicago that kinda looks like this guy, she will instantly think it IS this guy and probably call me to brag about being in the same CVS as “that grocery store guy from Bachelorette.”  She won’t even remember his name.  SAD!

John CA

John “Software Engineer” (California):  This guy dropped a HAMMER of a line when he said “I build the Venmo app.”  Becca should’ve married this guy that second.  I like this guy.  He’s normal with a WILDLY impressive job relies on his brain and not him being a slimeball.  I don’t know a TON of engineers, but they’re all the same: side part, boring fashion, even-tempered, smart, stable, and, eventually, will make a BUTTLOAD OF SWEEEEEEEET CAAAASSSSSHHHHHH.  Will this dude make you laugh everyday? Probably not.  But he also will never cheat on you or get heated in a fight about how to speak to a Comcast customer service representative (Literally told me to “be nicer” to this person while I was on the phone.  I almost jumped out the window.  SHE TOOK COMCAST’S SIDE!!!!  I FEEL LIKE I’M TAKING CRAZY PILLS!!!!)

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  Becca will toss this guy soon (maybe already did? Can’t remember) because he’s not SEXY.  Hey Becca, congrats on being an IDIOT.  While you’re taking care of baby #7 and Garrett is out fishing, John will be yacht shopping with his new Victoria Secret model wife.

Jordan

Jordan “Male Model” (Florida):  First, of course he’s from Florida.  Second, my opinion on this dude has evolved since watching the episode live.  This is obviously a put-on, and I’m kind of thinking it’s funny now.  This is the guy producers saw being a little too into himself and said “yeah that, but TIMES A THOUSAND if you wanna be on tv.”  This guy really wants to be on TV, so he’s jumping into the Omarosa-deep-end of the villain pool.  Unfortunately for him, I just don’t think he’s a good enough actor to convincingly pull off the villain role.  He’s no Chad.  If he was SO cocky and full of himself, he would’ve had the stones to talk to Becca one-on-one that first night.  He didn’t and you could see he was nervous.  When those guys were giving him shit for not talking to her, his face had “I’m not this guy I’m portraying” written all over it.  Once you accept that, his whole persona goes from being super annoying, to actually pretty funny.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He stays around through mid-season because the producers have a lot invested in him being the villain.  I hope he keeps trying SUPER hard to be a dick, but then wimps out at the end.  If anything, he is showing every casting director in the universe that he cannot act.  Can’t wait to see this guy on page 26 of an LL Bean catalog in 8 years.

Kamil

Kamil “Social Media Participant” (New York):  This was the 60-40 guy!  WHAT A FLOP OF AN OPENING LINE!  Did he think the way to Becca’s heart was by BULLYING HER into walking towards him?  Becca’s best moment of the first ep was when she refused to go past halfway.  “Social Media Participant”?  So….he’s on Facebook?  How great would it be if this dude’s resume just listed all of his social media accounts?  PLEASE LET THAT BE TRUE!

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He’s heckled with “60-40” jokes for the rest of his life.  Eventually, he’ll change his name, shave his head and move to the mountains to get away from all the derision.  But guess what, Kamil…they have TVs in the mountains too.

Leo

Leo “Stuntman” (California):  My favorite guy on the show.  He’s legitimately funny and I think he owns how his hair is kind of ridiculous.  I’m sure he’s a real weird dude, but he’s the most interesting guy on this show.  Can we please hear stories about all of his “stunts”?  He did fuck up, though, when he didn’t do some crazy awesome stunt when his limo pulled in.  How could he not have crashed the car or jumped a tree in a motorcycle or jumped off the roof to meet her?

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He better stay around long enough to impress the whole cast with some WILD stunt.  There was a shot of an ambulance in the season trailer, and you better believe I’m hoping it has to do with a stunt this guy tries to pull, that goes VERY BADLY.

Lincoln

Lincoln “Account Sales Executive” (California):  Is this the classic bait-and-switch?  I thought this dude was pretty nice, but the trailers for the rest of the season imply that he becomes THE bad guy.  CAN WE TRUST NOTHING?!?! The VP likes his accent a lot and I did say “God Damn!” when they showed him doing some ab workout that looked impossible.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  His whole “scandal” is not going to be nearly as exciting as the season-long trailer made it look.  Is he this season’s Crystal?  Highly doubtful.  UNLESS, the scandal is about his accent!  What if he just changes it from episode to episode?  One episode it’s Jamaican, the next it’s a thick southern accent.  Yeah, that’s gonna be the “scandal” of the season.

Nick.jpg

Nick “Attorney” (Florida):  The VP really really likes this guy and I find that somewhat upsetting.  This guy?  I mean, he’s decent looking but doesn’t he just look like if the bad guy in “The Karate Kid” got a law degree?  And this picture?  A QZ with no undershirt is a WILDLY COCKY move.  I’d imagine this guy telling you that he wants to bang your sister and then not comprehending why that makes you FURIOUS.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He tells Becca that he’s into some really weird bedroom stuff and The VP, trying to save face, has to try to pretend that zipper mask stuff is normal.

These guys don’t matter and I will not waste my time on their SORRY ASSES!

FINAL PREDICTION:  Colton is going to win and there will be a social media movement defending virgins everywhere.  I will feel like a bully for making fun of his virginity and, due to overwhelming public pressure, will be forced to resign my post as “Judgey Blog Writer Who People Don’t Really Pay Attention To”.  It’s been gun, guys.  Who woulda’ thought Jimmyschair would be taken down by a virgin?

MY WORLD:

Tomorrow morning I have to set up a booth at a college music festival.  Northwestern University has an end-of-the-year music fest every year, and the company I work for is a big sponsor for it.  It’s my job to make sure our booth looks good and we’re ready to roll.  This means, however, that I’m going to be surrounded by college kids wearing tank tops and cool hats.  How am I supposed to act?  I’m really not sure.  Being 32, I don’t feel like college was THAT long ago but…like, it was.  In an effort to feel young, do I try to befriend some of these kids?  What’ll probably happen is I’ll try too hard to come off like the cool-guy and will fail miserably.  Here’s what I’m thinking I can talk to these kids about tomorrow:

-Drake vs. Pusha T:  I’ll say something like “Drake shouldn’t have messed with Pusha!” (I don’t like Drake and don’t know Pusha T)

-Music: I’ll say something like “I’ve been listening to a lot of Chance lately!” (I haven’t.  I think Chance is overrated.)

-Politics: I’ll say something like “Just legalize it already!” (Honestly, I hope they don’t legalize weed.  It’ll just mean I’ll have to deal with more peer pressure to smoke it and I’m VERY VERY SCARED OF THE WEED!)

-Sports:  I’ll say something like “LeBron is amazing, but Jordan was–” (and then I’ll catch myself realizing that these 20 year old kids never saw Jordan play.  Me saying that I did would immediately out me as “the old guy”.  DOES THAT MEAN I HAVE TO PRETEND TO LIKE LEBRON MORE?!?! DOUBLEFUCKKKKKKKKK)

-Weather:  I’ll say something like “Dude, sweatpants play no matter the temperature.” (As my legs sweat profusely in my thick 14 year old University of Cincinnati Jordan Brand sweatpants)

-Pop Culture:  I’ll say something like “me too” to myself when I see a guy looking awkward off to the side.  A girl will overhear this and think I’m making fun of the movement…and I will bring SHAME UPON THE COMPANY I AM REPRESENTING. (Jk lol omg I’m legitimately nervous about writing about the “me too” movement in a lighter way…k byeee.)

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

WHOA!  MY NEW CRUSH WITH MY FAVORITE BAND?!?!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you call Comcast because your cable isn’t working and your wife snaps at you to “be nice!” once you start to get JUST THE TEENIEST BIT aggressive with their customer service rep.  If you’ve ever dealt with Comcast, you know that you HAVE to get aggressive to get what you want.  Telling someone mid-aggro to “be nice!” is a quick way to get your head chopped off.  (This has developed into a real fight between The VP and I and I WILL NOT BACK DOWN!)

GAMBLING IS MAYBE MY FAVORITE THING TO TALK ABOUT BUT I THINK IT’S KINDA’ BORING TO WRITE ABOUT MOST OF THE TIME SO I’M GOING TO KEEP THESE SHORT:

I bet the Cavs moneyline last night.  Can you all please just look up at the sky and think about how sorry for me you are?  Thank you.  And to JR Smith, I would like you to know that you let me and my future children down; because of your actions, they will have less bitcoin stock to help them get through college.  Hope our kids are cool with community college!  As for the rest of the series, I’m seeing a Warriors sweep now.  The Cavs looked like they lost they were eliminated from the universe in their postgame press conferences last night.

(My account currently at $0)

K bye.