Category: youth

Something We’ve Been Wanting To Get Off Our Chest…(5/30/18)

WHERE HAS THE CHAIR BEEN?!?!

A relatively young man, boy perhaps, scared of an actual battlefield, was presented with an opportunity to prove that courage was not among one of his seemingly countless allergies.  The roach scaled the wall the way a veteran climber would during a storm; deliberately.  Each step was carefully placed, making sure footing was stable before pushing off onto the next.  The older couple’s ignorance remained intact while squint-scanning a pasta menu.  Little did they know that their favorite restaurant was just like every other establishment they turned their noses up at; food, servers, and roaches.  There wasn’t time to react.  There was only time for courage in the form of a bare hand.  Without hesitation, the server opened his closed fist, as if he was high-fiving the wall in slow-motion, and nonchalantly pressed his splayed palm into the bug; smashing it between the wall and his naked hand.  He held the pose for 11 seconds, tricking the couple into thinking that he just needed a casual lean at the end of a long shift.  After answering the final menu questions they had for him, he pushed himself off the wall, making sure to scrape all the roach gut remnants from the wall with his murderous hand.  There could be no evidence of this.  The couple went back to bickering about what they should order. The server calmly walked to the kitchen sink in back, roach entrails lining the inside of his now-closed hand.  As he washed the evidence from his hands, he caught himself in the mirror.  Things were different now.

Once, when I was a server, I smashed a roach with my bare hand.  (Would’ve been nice if you saved us all the hassle of reading the above paragraph…) It was probably the bravest thing I’ve ever done.  That’s not much of an exaggeration, either (no one was doubting that, Jimmy, but thx!) Squealing like the scared baby that I am was not an option in a crowded restaurant, so killing this roach without hesitation was the only way to avoid making a real scene.  I still can’t believe I actually did it when what I really wanted to do was make a cry-face, say something like “oh my god EW!” and run over to a bigger, stronger ANYBODY while screaming “HELP!!!!!”   Nobody knew it happened!  If it sounds like I’m SUPER proud about this moment, it’s because I am…GLAD THAT’S COMING THROUGH!

I’m sorry I didn’t write last week, but I was busy being taught what actual bravery looks like.

About three years ago, I found a lump in The VPs boobie.  Boobs are supposed to be fun and that WAS NOT FUN!  We went and got it looked at and the docs told her to just come back every 6 months so they could keep an eye on it.  Didn’t seem like they were overly concerned, so that was nice.  The VP would go back every 6 months a few times and they’d basically tell her the same thing.  But then life got like supes distracting, y’all!  We got married, she got promoted, I got really incredibly good-looking after I rededicated myself to the gym and…The VP and I kinda’ forgot that she had a lump in her BOOBIE (my hope is that by capitalizing the word “Boobie” it makes this subject matter a little lighter…IS IT WORKING GUYS?!?!) 

Then, one day, I thought my tooth exploded while eating a burrito.  Thinking I was due for a root canal and major scary teeth stuff, I forced myself to go to the dentist…for the first time in like 5 years.  Is that gross?  Yeah, probably, but dentists are terrifying and everyone knows you don’t have to go until something hurts.  RIGHT?!?!  I’M A BABY, REMEMBER?!?! Something hurt, so I went.  And, guess what? It wasn’t THAT scary.  One cavity filling later, bravery street cred at an all-time high, I reminded The VP to get that lumperooski checked out again.

Hospitals are stupid scary and it’s not the smell or the art or the tile floors.  If all hospitals had your favorite band playing live, for free while giving away beers and backrubs, you’d still hate going to the hospital.  That’s why we should all be allowed to hit the person who says “I just hate hospitals.”  NO SHIT!  EVERYONE HATES HOSPITALS!  And, spoiler alert, there are some parts within these hospitals that are scarier than others.  The VP’s appointment was in one of these scarier areas.  But, I got a cavity filled so I could talk to her about being brave.  (Ever look back at something you did and are so embarrassed that you think about legally changing your name so you can just start from scratch?  That’s me looking back at this.)

In early May, The VP and I went to the Breast Cancer Screening wing at the hospital to get her lump checked out again.  The car ride there was the kind of quiet you get when trying to act casual in a stressful situation.  Funny thing about not acknowledging stress is that it doesn’t go away.  And when I say “funny thing,” you know I mean “a thing that’s not funny at all and just weighs you down,” right?  Good, glad we’re on the same page.  The VP was so cool, guys.  She made a few jokes about my stupid sunglasses and kept asking if it was okay that I was missing a couple hours of work that morning to go with her.  She talked about where we should get breakfast when it was done and what shows we should start watching that night.  I believe The VPs itinerary that day read: wake up, have a coffee, get boob lump checked at the scary wing in the downtown hospital, take a pee, join the military, stop a carjacking in process, dance on the ledge of a tall building, have some eggs.  At least something along those lines.  She was fine: a fucking badass with a southern accent and a ponytail.  They called her name and she was off into the back.

I got to watch an episode of “The Price is Right” in the waiting room.  The jumping and screaming of strangers on the television didn’t settle my nerves.  So I scanned Twitter and tried to watch funny Instagram videos without the volume because I didn’t have my headphones and you’re a psycho if you have the volume up on your phone in public.  (I’M NOT A PSYCHO!) 

It didn’t really work, though.  The other horrible thing about hospitals is that your mind goes to the darkest places way too easily.  And when you have the internet at your fingertips, those darkest places seem inevitable after a simple Google search.  My mom has been through cancer twice, really rough both times, and I learned the lesson of not going to the internet…and, yet, I still went to the internet.  If you don’t think internet addiction is a real thing, then do me a favor and get the hell away from me because YOU DENY THE WORLD!  So with The VP in the back, my brain and heart volleyed between forceful optimism and paralyzing fear of the unknown. Drew Carey’s annoying voice and stupid fucking glasses played the soundtrack.

The VP walked out of the exam shrugging her shoulders and walking kinda’ fast.  When I asked how it went, she gave me a “it’s fine.  It’s fine.”  When I pressed for details, however, she told me that we had to wait to talk until we were outside.  This is also known as the “oh, fuck”-moment.  She was repressed manic at this point.  I hope I’m not saying that to normalize how I was feeling, but I think it’s accurate.  As we got away from other people waiting on other results, she told me that the doctors wanted her to come back for a biopsy: the lump had shown “substantial growth” and may be breast cancer.

The next available appointment for a biopsy was 22 days later.

Which meant that the next three weeks were for worrying, pretending everything is fine while at work and in front of friends, and then distracting ourselves with television and alcohol.  I would do check-ins and ask how she was feeling about stuff every few days and she would almost always respond that she was “okay.”  There was not a truly enjoyable day in those 22.  It was about managing fears and staying positive in the face of the unknown and the goddamn, unrelenting internet.

My job, which consists of a lot of alone time behind the wheel (wait, is Jimmy a tire fixer?!?!), wasn’t great for these few weeks.  For me, alone time means imagination time and, normally, that equates to daydreams centered around “what if I had REALLY dedicated myself to golf when I was younger?  Could I have been pro by now?”  Imagination time, alone in the car, is when I get to picture my life being WAY better than it is now: cooler car, better hair, bigger bank account…maybe less insecurities?  But for these weeks, “imagination time” morphed into me thinking about how lucky I am to have the life I do with The VP of Ops and how scary and SUCKY any other life would be for me.

“Game of Thrones” helped.  Remember when I wrote about how we had gotten into that show?  THIS IS WHY!  I knew we needed a HIGHLY engrossing show to distract the both of us from the upcoming biopsy, so it was time to dive into the world of dragons and war and….like, a lot of nudity.  (Quick aside: anyone else get a little uncomfortable watching all the sex scenes in “Game of Thrones” with your significant other?  We’re not prudes, but I feel like I’m back in high school watching these scenes next to The VP.  Sometimes, during the middle of one of these RACY scenes, I’ll catch her looking at me out of the corner of my eye and I’ll just blurt out “NOTHING! I JUST CARRY THIS TEXTBOOK WITH ME BECAUSE I LIKE READING IT SOMETIMES! NOTHING!”)  Between Khalisi and Drago and Ned Stark and Joffrey (WHAT A DICK!) and allowing ourselves that extra glass of wine or scotch; we were somewhat able to distract ourselves.

When the day of the biopsy finally arrived, we had settled into a new normalcy of drinking a little too much and staying up a little too late watching “GOT”.  Not knowing what was going on with The VPs lumperoni was normal, and somehow after 3 weeks, the not knowing had become somewhat comforting.  If you don’t know something bad is going on, then maybe nothing bad is going on?  I went into coach-mode throughout, giving her pep talks that I believed 1000%…and then I would call my Mom for a similar pep talk directed at me.  The power of positive thinking was always something I sneered at as a sarcastic college kid.  Then my mom got sick and all she asked was that we surround her with positivity.  It fucking works, guys.

On the way to the hospital on biopsy day, The VP was nervous.  There were tears the night before.  She blamed the tears on a fear of needles.  Belle and I did our best to give her hugs and calm her down.  It wasn’t panic on her part; it was more of a plea to any higher power that may be listening her desire to go back to living a normal, underpaid but well-loved life.  I take it back, not knowing was never normal; it was awful.  How the hell was The VP having to stare cancer in the face when she has never had a cigarette or chewing tobacco or…worked in a coal mine?  It should be me: the guy who smoked through college, but justified it by “only doing it when I drink”…only to move on to chewing tobacco, but justifying by “only doing it when I golf…or am with friends…or am away from The VP.”  ‘God Damn It’ is a term I thought of a lot in these few weeks and then immediately apologized for because we needed all the help we could get.  Religion and believing in things that are bigger than you are easy targets for humor, I get it; I’ve done it.  But when the chips are down, you’re fuckin’ right I’m talking to someone that I pray has more say than I do.  I talked to God and my dead Grandma every single one of those 22 days; never more than I did while in the waiting room later that morning.

They came to take The VP into the back right when we got there.  Let’s rip this band-aid off.  I told her that she wouldn’t feel a thing and reminded her that all of the awful things she had been through up until now prove that she is tougher than she gives herself credit for.  There was the time she broke her leg and the time she got mugged and the time she split her ankle open and the time she moved to a completely new city without a job and made an entire life for herself.  She could handle a big, dumb needle to the boob.  Then she went in back and I started talking to people in my head.

I made deals in my head about things I would never do again and other things I would stop putting off.  If these were true negotiations; I wouldn’t have said no to anything if it meant this biopsy didn’t hurt the way The VP feared it might.  (Thankfully, God didn’t ask for my flat screen television…)  “The Price is Right” wasn’t on this time; instead, I was treated to “The Today Show” on the waiting room TV.  Granted, I wasn’t in the best of mindspace at this point, but that Hoda lady is insufferable.  Can’t we just put videos of animals doing cute things on waiting room televisions?  I went back to the scary world wide web in hopes of finding stories where biopsies felt good and always came back showing no signs of cancer.  (Thanks for nothing, internet.)

The VP of Ops bopped out from the back about 45 minutes later with big eyes and a bigger smile.  The biopsy didn’t hurt!  They didn’t have immediate results, though.  We’d have to wait another “1 to 2 days” for them to call her with the results.  More waiting was okay because you celebrate small steps when dealing with health issues.  She had gotten through a big, hollow needle in the boob with a smile on her face.  Time to go celebrate with pancakes (she actually got quinoa cakes for breakfast, but “celebrating with pancakes” sounded better than “celebrating with quinoa cakes.”)

She chilled at home for the rest of the day and I went back to work.  Neither of us had told anyone what was going on this entire month aside from our parents.  I definitely wanted to, but “I’m scared my wife may have breast cancer” is a tough conversation starter. We had another 1 to 2 days of keeping this secret before it would either go away or become another scarier thing entirely.  We stayed up REAL late that night watching “GOT”.

We both went to work the next day not knowing when “the call” would come.  I was in charge of training a new employee and The VP was to manage an admin staff and book flights for bosses because booking your own flight is too fucking stressful for some people apparently.  I imagined her listening to higher-ups complain about how stressful their travel schedules had been that day and got angry at my desk just thinking about it.  I may have planned exactly what I’d say to these people the next time I got to see them.  You could say I was handling this stress AGGRESSIVELY.

At exactly 1:25 PM, The VP called to say that her doctor had just given her “good news.”  No cancer.

So we got to go back to breathing again.  I let out the most heartfelt “FUCK YEAH!” I’ve ever said and my eyes welled up.  She giggled a little because I guess you can’t yell “Fuck Yeah” when you work in a tall office building.  I told her how proud of her I was, and am, and we talked about the power of positive thinking and the AMAZING PEOPLE THAT WORK IN HOSPITALS.  Holy crap, those people are a higher breed than human.  The VP will have surgery to get the lumperooski removed and that won’t be the most fun time ever, but she’ll be fine.  And we’re thrilled to go back to living our normal, boring, well-loved lives.

I’m sorry I didn’t write last week; this was why.  And I meant to post this yesterday, but it ran long and I wanted to make sure I wrote it the way I wanted to.

I wanted to write this because when we were in the midst of waiting and being scared and getting trapped in the panic room of “imagination time,” I would search the internet looking for an uplifting story.  Maybe this can be that for some people.  The whole thing sucked because stress stinks and hospitals are scary.  But, I got to see my wife act like a brave, grown woman in the face of an adversity that would bring me to secret tears in public bathrooms.  She bit her lip, nodded and carried on.  I got to see this with my Mom during her two bouts with cancer, and it’s the absolute most inspiring thing you can ever see.  As much as it sucks to be going through, getting to see understated, everyday courage in those closest to you is amazing.  It deepened my love and appreciation for my Mom and it has done the same now for my wife.

Someday, this big scary world wide web will allow our kids to read about how their Dad wanted to cry when he saw a roach and how their Mom laughed after a biopsy.  And I couldn’t look more forward to being outed as the wimp in our boring, too-small, but well-loved home.

I love you Erin.

 

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

MY WORLD:

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

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

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

Buying toilet paper before I run out

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

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

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

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

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

OUR WORLD:

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

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

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

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

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

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

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

(My account currently at $327.55)

K bye.

Inventions That Need To Happen (5/15/18)

MY WORLD:

Remember when you were a kid and you would have invention day at school?  That day was the best.  One year, I remember I painted a big cardboard box and had a couple of slots that you’d drop bread and salami down for a “salami sandwich maker”.  (Big salami on white bread guy here.  If you like to get fancy, throw some Cheetos in there.  GAME. CHANGER.)  While dropping wonder bread and cuts of salami through a cardboard box never took off, I’ve always tried to think of stuff that I couldn’t make, but would love to see.  When I was younger, I’d say stuff like “I can’t tell you my invention ideas because you’ll steal them and get rich off my brain.”  Now, though, as a full-grown adult (but like, my doctor did say I could get over 6 feet tall one day so maybe not…) who knows his limitations (there are a lot!) I’m not afraid to share my genius invention ideas with you all.  Nobody reading this has the bandwidth (business term) to turn these into a reality and get rich off of them.  AND! Even if someone does, I’ll actually find it a little funny about how bad I just jinxed myself there.  Without further ado, here are my “Can someone smarter than me please make these things happen and then give me some money for coming up with the idea?-Inventions”

A hand dryer that makes your hands dry in less than 3 seconds

I don’t know how it is in the women’s room (because I don’t go in there because I’m not allowed) but every time I’m in the men’s room it leads to an awkward exit.  I’ll finish peeing and then wash my hands because there are people there who will judge me if I don’t EVEN THOUGH I TOTALLY DIDN’T PEE ON MY HANDS!  After washing my hands, I’ll try to dry them in those fancy new blower things that every bar has, but it takes longer than it should…and then there’s a line of a couple dudes behind me like “I remember my first hand drier!”  Usually, I get so uncomfortable with holding up the drier (dryer? drier?) line that I just leave with my hands still wet.  AND HAVING WET HANDS STINKS!  You have to dry them on your dirty pants and then, guess what? YOUR HANDS ARE DIRTY AGAIN!

Stop me if I’m asking for too much here, but can’t we have a machine that zaps our hands and they’re immediately dry?  Remember that memory eraser thing in “Men in Black”? Like one of those, but instead of erasing your memory, it just dries your hands.  If you can’t tell, I would very much be in favor of bringing paper towel dispensers back to all of the bathrooms, but I guess that’s gonna make the earth explode.  So that’s out.  Until this flash hand dryer is invented though, can we all agree that standing over someone while they’re trying to dry their hands is unnecessary?  Maybe just pretend you’re still washing your hands for another 38 seconds until my hands are actually dry?

Car slappers

This may be my favorite name for an invention of mine “The Car Slapper”.  Here’s the idea: sometimes honking just isn’t enough.  You ever driving and see a car drift into your lane or right in front of you and all you want to do is give that car a “Hey, I’m drivin’ here!”-slap?  What if, on each side of your car, there was a big inflatable hand–like, the size of a pool noodle but in the shape of a hand–that you could press a button and it would shoot out and SLAP the car next to you?  It wouldn’t damage the bad driver’s car, but it would shock them and be WAY more of a jolt to get out of your way than some lame honking sound.

Also!  I think these inflatable hands should be covered in chalk.  Therefore, if you’re on the road and get “slapped” then other drivers would know to pay extra close attention for the rest of the day because they’d see the chalky handprint on the side of your car.  It would be a scarlet letter of sorts for bad drivers.  Would some people abuse this tool?  I already thought about that, guys!  The only way you can have a car that is equipped with “The Car Slapper” is if you’ve been accident-free for 3 years.  I’m not here to invent things for bad drivers to take advantage of.  I’m here for the rest of us; the cautious drivers who aren’t afraid to stop on a yellow light, or actually pull over at the sound of police sirens.  ALSO! If anything about your car resembles anything from ANY of “The Fast and The Furious” movies, you can’t get “The Car Slapper”.  This includes: loud muffler things, lights under your car, windows that are tinted a little too much, a spoiler, or basically any Honda that has had work done on it.

The get-away-from-me shirt

The name for this one may need work, but the idea is great.  What if you had a shirt that alerted people when they were too close to you?  I don’t want this to be used as a weapon, but what if a shirt was made in a way that if someone got within 3 feet of you, they would get sprayed with a B.O. spray?  Being the guy with B.O. for the rest of the day is MORE than enough of a deterrent to stay 3 feet away from someone.  Here’s how it would work: a FASHIONABLE shirt would be made (not sacrificing fashion here) that would alert people as to what you view as your personal space.  Think, instead of a Nike swoosh on the arm, there’s a “3 FEET!” patch that lets people know that if they get within 3 feet of you, they will be shot with B.O. spray.  If they get within 6 inches of crossing into your personal space, that patch would start flashing like a warning siren that signifies “BACK UP OR SMELL LIKE B.O. FOR THE REST OF THE DAY!”

Imagine the next time you’re walking down the street and you see one of those people with a clipboard and a spiel that you don’t care about.  You see them approaching you and saying something like “Hello sir! Do you care about ending little babies being tortured?”  Of course you do, but you just wanted to get a goddamn sandwich and not talk to anyone!  If you had one of my shirts, you could just point to your “5 Feet!” patch and they’d know not to get any closer.  You wouldn’t have to say anything mean like “No, I don’t care about little babies being tortured.”  All you’d have to do is give a look down to your patch.  They’d hate it, but not as much as they’d hate smelling like “Smelly Richard” from your high school math class.

The fart silencer

Everybody farts, guys.  It’s a funny sound, but it’s also a real thing that way too many people struggle to hide while they’re at work or on a date or in a public place that’s just a little too quiet.  When The VP and I started dating, I hid my farts like a ninja who always had a pained look on his face.  It was about 4 months until she heard my first one, an accidental/laughed-too-hard fart that came out in the middle of a party.  Thankfully, The VP is cool, but it was petrifying.  I half expected her to dump me on the spot.

I’m not advocating for a diaper-like thing or an enema of sorts (too icky, right?!?!)  But maybe just some cool pants that has a muffler like device on the butt?  If I let one out, nobody would hear it because my magic pants silenced it.  I mean, there’s a device to silence a GUN SHOOTING A BULLET–there has to be a pants device to silence a BUTT SHOOTING A FART.  (If you’re not laughing at “a butt shooting a fart” then just stop reading this forever.  That’s as good as I get, folks.)  Every high school kid would immediately buy these and save themselves from confidence-crippling accidental farts.  Remember that time you were doing sit-ups in the gym next to the cute girl and you accidentally let out a RIPPER?  With these magic gym pants, Cute Girl would never know. (Could she smell it? Yes, but that’s always easy to pawn off on someone else.)

*Quick related-story:  I came up with this idea in college.  It was a U.S. History class and we were taking a final.  I was sitting next to a girl I had a crush on, and I was super nervous about that AND taking a final that I was ill-prepared for.  (Don’t worry VP, you’re way hotter than she ever was.)  Anyway, so the classroom was dead silent as everyone worked on the final.  The silence was broken, however, by my stomach growls.  I had to fart, but I couldn’t run out because I didn’t think you could leave the room during a final. So I was holding it in for dear life.  My stomach did not appreciate this, and was letting THE ENTIRE WORLD KNOW.  These growls were angry and scary and…disturbing enough that the girl I had a crush on, literally leaned over and asked if I was okay.  I never asked that girl out.

The Sober-Now Pill

If you’ve been around me much, you’ve probably heard me talk about this a lot.  (In fact, I feel like I may have talked about this in a previous blog…but I don’t want to go through all of them and check, so deal with this.)  How amazing would it be if you got to the end of your night, started to feel that “oh my god, tomorrow is gonna hurt real bad”-feeling, but were able to drop a pill into your last beer and POOF! You’re back to zero.  It would basically eliminate hangovers, drunk driving and you’d save so much on Ubers.  Get bombed, pop a sober pill, drive home.  GREAT NIGHT!

Also, the comedy that could be had would be priceless.  My favorite thing about this invention is thinking about the times I’d sneak this pill into a friend’s beer before they were ready to be sober.  They’d be in the middle of a great night, hitting peak-buzz level and finally unwinding from a stressful week when BOOM! “Did you put a sober pill in my beer, Jimmy?!?!”  GOTCHA JERK!  ENJOY PAYING THAT $90 TAB AND BEING SOBER BEFORE YOU WANTED TO BE!!!  You could never leave your drink unattended around me.  And it’s not like I’d get in trouble for “drugging” you; I’d basically be doing a public-service by ridding the public of your drunken ass.  Cops would thank me!  Please make this happen someone.

OUR WORLD:

Game of Thrones Season 1 Review will be coming possibly as soon as tomorrow!  That was a lot of words I wrote for the “My World” section so you’re gonna have to wait on this one.  BUT! The VP and I finished Season 1 last night and OOOOOOOO DOGGY!!! WE ARE SO IN ON THIS SHOW!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

New song off of Dave Matthews’ new album!  And I found a live video of it!  LOVE!

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you wear a sweater for the first time and you take it off to see that it left a bunch of fuzzies on your white t-shirt.  AND IT’S TOO HOT TO PUT THE SWEATER BACK ON!!! SO YOU HAVE TO WALK AROUND LIKE AN IDIOT COVERED IN FUZZIES!!!

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

Not to brag, but I hit a Warriors/Vegas parlay last night.  Not to brag not to brag.  I’m getting close to the level where I’ll cash out and dump that money into bitcoin (I’ve decided I want to invest in bitcoin cuz it sounds fun!) Tonight I like Boston (-1) and Tampa Bay (+1.5).  LeBron was way too relaxed after that Game 1 ass-kicking.  He reminded me of that guy who tries to convince himself that he’s not worried when he DEFINITELY IS.  Cleveland stinks, guys.  And the Lightning? I mean, they can’t go down 3-0 without at least putting up a fight.  I say if they lose, it won’t be by more than 1.  GOD MY GAMBLING BRAIN IS FIRING ON ALL CYLINDERS TODAY!!!

(My account currently at $231.76….YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT!)

K bye.

Don’t Do These Things and Redeemable Celebs (5/11/18)

MY WORLD:

It’s Friday (ever heard of it?) and we’re all supposed to be in great moods this morning.  Even though it’s raining, we’re about to get a 2-day respite from our SOUL SUCKING places of employment (jk boss! I love my job every second!)  Who else is looking forward to acting like Jersey Shore Ron for the next 48 hours before curling up on your couch and having the Sunday scaries wash over you?!?!  And now you should hate me because I just talked about Sunday Scaries on a Friday morning.  I would like to introduce my “Things That People Do That Piss Me Off More Than They Should”:

-Talking About Sunday Scaries or Hangovers on Friday or Saturday:  This is a classic Debbie Downer move and, tell me, who does it benefit?  The “ugh, I’m already thinking about tomorrow’s hangover”-person is the same breed as the “it’s almost Sunday”-person who appears around 7PM on Saturday night.  If you are this person, let’s walk through why you’re saying these things out loud in front of people.  Is it because you get nervous when in groups?  Maybe things got a little too quiet amongst a few friends/coworkers and you went into full “shit, things are getting awkward and people are thinking it’s because I don’t know how to converse”-mode?  So you blurted out something kinda floating in the middle of your brain, not quite the back and not exactly the front, but the middle fears that you have mistaken for “this will be a positive addition to the conversation!”  It’s not a positive addition to the conversation.  (Activating Michelle from “Full House”-voice)“Capiche?!”

Listen, once you get to the age of 27, everyone has a time at the bar where they go to pee, catch their reflection in the mirror and think, “oh shit, I’m fucked up and tomorrow is gonna HURT.”  Talking about it doesn’t make it better.  Burying it, does.  So when I head back to the bar to distract myself watching the teams I gambled on slowly lose while burying my nose in a pint glass, can you not ruin the moment with your insecurities?  I get insecure too (mostly when I’m around people who have cool tattoos and tight pants) but I don’t remind everyone that climate change is accelerating at a rate that could GREATLY IMPACT QUALITY OF LIFE WITHIN THE NEXT 20 YEARS!!!!

And to the “it’s almost Sunday”-people, again, we’re all thinking this.  I was the kid in middle school who would have a countdown in my head during winter and summer break about every day was one day closer to having to go back to school; and I would get progressively sadder the closer that return got.  Seriously, by the time August hit, I was a fuggin’ basket case, trembling in the fetal position on my bedroom floor while muttering “I haven’t even STARTED the summer reading!”  You think my Mom coming in and saying “hey kiddo, school’s getting close!” would have HELPED that situation?  It probably would have sent me into an anxiety tailspin where I would’ve written a goodbye note about how my heart was broken by the tall girl in 3rd grade before trying to OD on my Flintstones vitamins.  (Real talk, my sister once had to get her stomach pumped for eating too many of them.)  

In short: keep your fears to yourself on the weekends.

-When people get way too close walking behind me:  You ever walking down a city sidewalk at a reasonable pace, when you can feel someone trying to figure-eight you from behind?  You can almost hear their overly dramatic audible sighs as they’re about to stomp on your heels?  When this happens to me, I’ll normally shoot The VP of Ops a look that says “I’m ‘FINNA LOSE MY SHIT ON THIS FOOL!”  She’ll grab my hand a little tighter and clench her jaw to brace for the impending embarrassment as….I abruptly stop, step to the side and extend my arm to the DOUCHE from behind as if to say “go ahead!”  Seriously, sometimes I’ll even toss a dripping sarcastic “please, go ahead” in a volume low enough for them to hear, but also low enough for me to deny if it turned into an actual confrontation.  If you don’t live to be passive aggressive to strangers, is life really worth living?!?!

Now is the part where I say that me acting like this is grossly immature so you don’t think I’m a total nutspants.  It’s borderline insane for me to think that people walking behind me are to flat-tire my new cool Levi loafers (fashion); and, if someone ever just stopped when I pulled something like this and said something like “what’s your fucking problem?” I’d probably pee my pants while trying to look tough in front of my wife, who undoubtedly is going to look for a divorce lawyer once she gets some wifi access for her phone.  But here’s the rub: I don’t think it’s insane.  In the moment, I think it’s ONE BILLION PERCENT justified to act like this.  If you get within 3 feet of the person in front of you on the sidewalk, they should be allowed to turn around and konk you on the head with a metal baseball bat.

Oh, I also hate slow walkers.

-People on bikes when I’m driving and people in cars when I’m biking:  Fellow car people, is there anything worse than the cool bicycle person blowing through stop signs and screaming at you after they cut you off?  The bike lanes throughout the city have made narrow driving lanes even tighter, yet the bikers seem to use them as a mere suggestion, weaving in and out of the bike lanes as they please.  If you come within 10 feet of them, they scream at you to “watch out!” and, worse, if you open your car door within 5 blocks of any of them, they’re going to confront you about “being aware of your surroundings!”  Roads were built for cars, so if you’re gonna be on one on your bike, you should follow the same rules as cars, right? Why are bikes allowed to blow through red lights and stop signs? IT’S NOT FAIR!  If I have to sit in traffic on a Monday night, why doesn’t Trevor Tinyhat?!?  It’s hard enough sharing the roads with the extras from “Fast and the Furious” and grandparents reluctant to give up licenses.  Adding cyclists who basically dare you to hit them is the exact recipe for Jimmy’s Molotov Cocktail of Anger.  I’M THROWING THIS BOTTLE AT SOMETHING!

Now, just to add some inexplicable contradiction to this; I also hate car people when I’m biking through the city.  I can’t be alone in this dichotomy.  If you can’t tell already, I’m not the cool bicycle person who has the tiny hat and big messenger bag.  Me on a bike is Dad-city; thick tires, not going too fast, constantly making sure you’re keeping up and yelling “taking a right up here” about 6 times before we actually take the right.  (“Taking a left?” “NO DAMNIT! RIGHT!”)  When I do bike, it’s rare, and it usually consists of The VP and I renting city bikes so we can tell people we did an “outdoor activity!”  The VP is normally pretty scared about riding bikes on busy streets and I have to pretend like I’m not and say things like “we have the right of way!”  But when a car gets a little too close, or guns it past us you better believe I’m tossing a “fuckin’ relax” their way!  We don’t wear helmets because we don’t own them (and they’re dorky AND my hair turns to hat-hair REAL quick so I try to avoid that.)  

Maybe cars and bicycles just weren’t meant to share the same roads?  They hate each other and if someone makes an animated “Cars vs. Bikes” movie in the next 5 years, I demand a percentage of the box office.  It’s a classic David vs. Goliath tale in which the bikes mount an offensive against the road-controlling cars; only to realize that the cars are just like they are.  Both sides learn to see the world from the other’s point of view and they come to an understanding that they’re “really not that different after all”.  Hey Pixar? You’re welcome.

OUR WORLD:

I love Kanye’s music, but the way he has been the past few weeks has kinda’ ruined it.  So I started thinking about other celebs/people that did bad things who I’m hoping are able to mount a comeback.  Some of these people have done super terrible things, BUT think about like “what if they solved the homeless situation?”  Here are some people I wish would solve the homeless situation (as in, give all homeless people the houses of rich assholes.  Donald Trump’s house goes to the “Free Smiles” sign guy.)

–Louis C.K.:  I know, what he did was wrong and weird and bad and creepy.  But, he is quite possibly the best stand-up of all-time and made me laugh and forget about my problems anytime I watched his stuff.

–Lance Armstrong:  Okay, you know what? I don’t think he even has to solve homelessness.  I never cared about cycling before him and I don’t after him and, honestly, I really didn’t care about cycling when he was dominating.  What I do care about is ALL OF THE GOOD he did for people with cancer.  That Livestrong campaign was inspiring for so many millions of people going through hard times, that I don’t really care that he was an asshole to reporters and ruined the reputations of some people.  Sue the shit out him, fine.  But, the good outweighs the bad here.  YEAH, I SAID IT!

–Lindsay Lohan:  You notice that the first 3 people on this list all have names that start with ‘L’?  THAT’S SUPER FUCKIN’ WEIRD, GUYS!!! Anyway, I miss “Mean Girls” and “Parent Trap” Lindsay Lohan.  She was funny and good at acting and super pretty.  Then she got way too into drugs and real weird stories about her being a total beeyotch came out.  That stinks.  In her prime, isn’t she a better version of Emma Stone?  She must hate her.

–Michael Jackson:  Him solving homelessness when he’s dead would be a real accomplishment.  Still, he has somehow reached the “yeah, he definitely touched kids, but it’s kinda’ okay because Thriller is the best album of all-time and he’s a great dancer!”-level.  When you’re alone, though, and singing all the words to “Billie Jean” do you ever catch yourself with a “remember that story about him giving ‘Jesus Juice’ to kids?”  Yeah, that stinks.

–Harvey Weinstein:  Just kidding, guys.  He should die in a fire.  Although, let me just throw this out there…what if he was next season’s “Bachelor”?  Think of how conflicted the women on that show would be.  It would ALMOST be evil-delicious…right?  RIGHT?!?! I KNOW!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The VP of Ops will hate me for this, but I do not understand the appeal of this kid AT ALL.  In fact, I cannot stand him.  Not because he’s a kid, but because he’s a kid who got famous for doing a super annoying thing in Wal-Mart?  GETDAFUGOUTTAHERE!

 

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

My favorite actor of all time.  I love everything he ever did.  EVERYTHING.  If someone can make you laugh just by saying “So I says to him…” over and over again, that’s called being ALL-TIME ELECTRIC.

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

NHL Conference finals start tonight and since I don’t watch hockey really at all throughout the regular season, I am feeling VERY confident about picking the Capitals in tonight’s game.  Uh…Alex Ovechkin is a guy I’ve heard of so SOUNDS LIKE A LOCK TO ME!  (Jesus H. Christ do I need football back in my life…)

(My account currently at: $137.16)

K bye.

New Shows and Mother’s Day (5/9/18)

MY WORLD:

There is some super big news in the world of The VP and I.  Are you ready for it?  (YOU’RE NOT!)  We started “Game of Thrones”.  That sound? That’s a bomb hitting the earth by your dumpy apartment and exploding RIGHT IN YOUR FACE!

Having not watched this show since it came out, The VP and I have been subjected to far too many “you’ve got to be kidding me”s, “what is wrong with you?”s, and passionate anger about how people “can’t even talk to you.”  It’s been hard, but thankfully, we’re tough-minded individuals who had to wait until now to prove to everyone that we wouldn’t simply bend to peer pressure.  We’re watching the show now because it’s right for US, and NOT because all of my friends have been making fun of me for years (but like, guys? do you think I’m cool again?)  

I’m obviously lying.  Remember, if I do that here, I come clean REAL quick (as in, next-paragraph-quick).  We’re watching it because I’m jealous of all the fun-sounding convos my friends get to have about this show.  Even not watching the show, I remember people getting emotional the day after when talking about dragons and weddings and Jon Snow (John? Jahn? Jan?)  Nothing is ruined for me, but I have a very slight whiff of what’s to come.  Over the past few years when my friends talk about the show, I’ve felt like a prisoner looking through bars at a field where families enjoy the sunny day on a playground (there’s gotta be one prison that overlooks a playground, right?  Maybe not actually.  I’M TRYING TO PAINT A PICTURE!)  

Why didn’t I get into it until now, then? I was scared.  Guys, I was so scared.  It’s 7 seasons and I’m not a sci-fi guy and I’d heard that there are like TEN TRILLIONBILLION characters and storylines.  Remember, I’m a “Bar Rescue” and “Vanderpump Rules” guy–shows with storylines that most wouldn’t describe as “hard to follow” (Bar Rescue storylines: Dirty Bar + Lazy Owner = Angry Jon Taffer.  Vanderpump Rules storylines: Alcohol + Insecure People = Sleeping with an ex in a parking garage.)  Also, convincing The VP of Ops to watch a show that doesn’t involve true crime OR an overdramatized cheating scandal requires some serious negotiations on my part.  A few days in, and she seems to like it…although, I do have to watch her out of the corner of my eye to make sure she’s not scrolling through Instagram on her phone.  (Are we the only ones who yell at each other when one of us catches the other checking their phone while watching one of “our” shows?  Hook a mic up outside our apartment door and most nights all you’ll hear is us yelling “PHONE!” every 9 minutes.)  

Now that we’re beginning to knock out “Game of Thrones” I’ll plan to write some reactions to the big episodes as we go through them.  I figure it’ll allow anyone reading this to re-live these episodes through The VP and I’s experience of them.  Don’t worry, I’ll put big bold *SPOILER ALERT* warnings ahead of them for people like we USED to be; too scared to commit.

Real quick, here are some other shows that I/we haven’t watched yet, that I feel similar guilt about.  “Game of Thrones” was number 1 in terms of “I feel guilty I haven’t watched ____”, here is the rest of the top 5:

2)  “Breaking Bad”:  I can already hear you yelling “OH, COME ON!” at your computer screen.  Here’s the deal; I watched the first couple seasons when Erin and I were first dating.  Then we got serious, and had to watch shows together because of LOVE!  LOVE! LOVE! CUDDLES! So we found ourselves in a pickle where I didn’t want to re-watch the first few seasons, and she didn’t want to start in the middle of the series so….now, neither of us watch it and we try not to talk about it in public too much because YOU’RE ALL JERKS!

3)  “The Wire”:  Wait! WAIT!  I did watch the first season of this show and then the same thing that happened with “Breaking Bad” and The VP happened with “The Wire”.  Guys, it’s all her fault.  We still cool-man-bros?  YEAAAAAAHHHH WE AHHHHH!  Women, amirite?!?! (Babe, they made me do it.  You know I care about you more than those dumb guys.  Can’t wait to start “Southern Charm” or “Below Deck” before ever getting back into “The Wire” again!)

4)  “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”:  PUT ME DOWN!  I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON’T PUT ME DOWN, I’M GONNA TELL MY DAD!  Okay, listen, I’ve watched a few episodes of this show and I enjoyed it.  I’m not going to lie, though, and tell you that it’s on the same comedy level as “Seinfeld”, “The Office” or even “Parks & Rec”.  My friends and people I don’t even know on the street will CONSTANTLY throw a “you remember that episode of ‘Always Sunny’ when….”–and, you know what? I normally lie and nod my head and toss a few courtesy laughs their way.  It just isn’t worth the whole ordeal of me telling them that I’ve seen less than 10 episodes of the show.  Full disclosure: The VP got me into this show more than I was before we were dating, so direct all your anger about this away from her and towards me.

5)  “The Walking Dead”:  Guess what? I don’t feel guilty about this at all because zombies are overdone and all the promos to this show look like the actors just came out of the “disheveled but still has really cool hair”-machine.  PASS!

OUR WORLD:

This is a friendly reminder that Mother’s Day is this Sunday and, therefore, you have 3 days left to procrastinate on getting a gift.  (Every guy reading this just texted their sister/wife/girlfriend/friend-who-is-a-girl/that-girl-who-you-work-with looking for gift ideas.)  Mom, I love you very very much, but I must confess for all men in their 20s and 30s that these are the steps we take to find your gift:

-Text any girl we are close with “what should I get my mom for mother’s day?”:  They’ll probably respond with something that’s too expensive or too general like “just some nice flowers!” that you think would scream “last minute gift”.  Therefore, pretty much no matter what they respond, we’re not going to get that thing.

-Google “Mother’s Day Gifts”:  More flowers and candy?  BE MORE ORIGINAL GOOGLE!

-Tell ourselves that we’ll “figure it out”:  This is also known as “forgetting about it for 4 days until freaking out the day of.”  Normally, about 4 days before Mother’s Day-when we still haven’t gotten anything-a girl in our lives will ask what we’re getting and we’ll snarl a “I’ll figure it out” back at them.  Here’s the rub, though: we probably won’t.

-Call our siblings and decide to contribute money to a group gift:  The tough thing with this is that ONE SIBLING needs to take the lead here.  They need to present a compelling argument for what gift we should all get and have it be a reasonable price.  If there’s conflict in this discussion (hint: there ALWAYS is) then negotiations may fall apart immediately.  If there is agreement, then that ONE SIBLING has to go get the gift him or herself and be totally okay with sharing credit with the others when they present the gift to Mom.  Normally, the sibling who took the lead AND got the gift will throw in some passive aggressive mention of how they did EVERYTHING (and, therefore, should be loved more than the rest). 

-If all else fails, flowers:  Seriously, if you’re just giving your Mom flowers you might as well include an “I suck at planning ahead” card with them.  I don’t care what Mom’s say, they’re pissed when they get flowers from their children.  I get it; I would be too.  (But Mom, remember that time I got your FAVORITE flowers? That was totally different.)

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This is a dumb, young person song that I like.  It makes me happy and feel cool.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Walking your dog in the rain and then them shaking off dry in your apartment before you can get a towel on them.

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

Took a couple of LAME backdoor covers right on the chin last night.  Tonight?  The Celtics aren’t losing a close out game at home.  NOT HAPPENING!

(My account currently at $118.68)

K bye.

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

MY WORLD:

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

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

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

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

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

OUR WORLD:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good section, Jimmy!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

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

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

(My account currently at $88.07)

K bye.

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

OUR WORLD:

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

Wrigleyville:  (Age 22-24)

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

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

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

Lakeview: (Age 24-25)

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

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

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

Lincoln Park: (Age 25-27)

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

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

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

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

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

MY WORLD:

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

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

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

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

All in all, a lackluster finale.

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

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

(Account currently at $108.14)

K bye.

Single Jimmy at His Worst and NFL Draft Scouting Reports (4/26/18)

MY WORLD:

A couple days ago I wrote about “Single Jimmy” and posted a blurry picture of myself on Instagram.  I would like to tell you the origin story of this picture.

I was working as a 21 year-old MANAGER! at an Italian-ish restaurant in a Northern suburb of Chicago.  I had been there for about a year and a half; quickly climbing the mom-and-pop-restaurant ladder going from carry out to server to manager in the blink of an eye!  To this day, many people still speak of how quick my ascension to MANAGEMENT was (they don’t?  Are we sure?  Well, how many people have you asked?) REGARDLESS!  Throughout these two years, I would work full time and go to college full time by scheduling all of my classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  On those days, classes would basically go from 9am to 10pm, which would allow me to work the other 5 days of the week at the restaurant.

–QUICK ASIDE, I’m going to call the restaurant “Casa’s House” because that’s an inside joke to the people that have worked there, but NOT the actual name of the restaurant (this Jimmy’s a real huckster, if you ask me.)—

I tell you about this schedule not to brag about my work ethic (even though you MUST be impressed) OR make you feel bad for me, but to illustrate that my ENTIRE social life was also wrapped up in this restaurant.  And that was a great thing!  It was the first place I felt part of a solid group of friends and it helped me regain some of the confidence that was lost during the “No really, I like eating lunch alone in the library!”-high school years.  By the time I became MANAGER! at “Casa’s House” I had even dated a waitress (a relationship that didn’t work out for some reason that I’m sure had nothing to do with my claims that her therapist was “out to get me.”)  With confidence now above negative 3 trillion (the High School low water mark), I had developed a crush on another co-worker, lets call her “Larry” so when the VP of Ops asks me about this story, I’ll laugh when she gets jealously scoffs “Who was this LARRY girl?!?!”.  LARRY was younger and better looking and more popular than me, BUT I tricked myself into thinking I had a chance with her because I was now a MANAGER! (Did I mention I was a manager?)

As anyone who has worked in restaurants knows, the best time to make a move on a work-crush is at a company get-together because it’s WAY TOO SCARY to just ask them out on a date.  So I spent the first few months of Larry’s employment trying to organize group outings after every shift we worked together.  “Guys, we are SO OVERDUE for a Tuesday-hang!”-would be something I said around this time.  Then, I’d turn to Larry and be like “Oh Larry, I forgot you were even working tonight.  Would you like to join us? Not like I care or anything, but like, ya know, whatever.”  (You could say, I knew how to play hard to get.)  Most of these NOT-OBVIOUS-AT-ALL attempts to hang with Larry ended with me going to a local dive bar with everyone but Larry, but there were a few times she’d come by and we’d flirt.  She was about to start college, so I could kinda’ play the cooler older guy role until she spoke to ANYONE who knew me in high school.  The idea was to impress her enough during the summer months that we’d become bf/gf and fall in love and everyone would be impressed AND WE’D BE TOGETHER FOREVER!

Unfortunately, Larry began to lose interest in Tuesday night bar hangs as the summer dragged on, before leaving for college in the fall.  My plan of impressing her by drinking SoCo and Limes while making restaurant jokes did not work probably because she was a HUMORLESS HEARTLESS WITCH!  Either way, I sulked my way through the fall, but I was plotting for ONE LAST DITCH EFFORT to woo Larry…when she returned home for winter break at the restaurant’s Holiday Party.

The owner’s of “Casa’s House” were/are/will-probably-always-be generous enough to throw their weirdo/borderline-alcoholic staff a really nice holiday party.  This year, they were taking us to a place called “Whirlyball” in Chicago: think bumper cars meets basketball meets lacrosse.  The activity itself is fun and they were also paying for an open bar.  That, my friends, is called DOUBLE FUN!  Plus, oh and this was my fave part, they invited Larry without me even asking them to.

So we got there and I figured that because I was a MANAGER! and 21 years old, that beginning the night with a Long-Island Iced Tea was a GREAT IDEA!  Nothing like carpet-bombing your nerves with 7 different liquors in a tall glass before trying to flirt with your crush (this NEVER backfires).  After a few rounds of whirlyball, where you get to drive a bumper car drunk while yelling at your teammates to “hit the net thing!”, Jimmy Good Times (‘member JGT?) was feeling LOOSE!  Larry was being flirty with me which was fun, and I was discovering that when the first Long Island goes down smooth, the next two go down EVEN SMOOTHER!

Feeling like French Toasty, the cool-kid group decided to go out front to smoke a cigarette because that’s what cool young adults do (consequences are for SUCKERS!)  While outside looking extra bad boy with cig in mouth, I decided that now was the time to THOROUGHLY IMPRESS Larry with a little something I like to call my brute strength and power.  And how else do you do that besides picking people up, throwing them over your shoulder and spinning around in the Whirlyball parking lot?  To borrow a phrase from my friend “Cash Out”, I’ve looked at it from all angles, and there was no other way to show off my strength.

The thing was, it was going well!  I picked up a couple guys and girls and everyone was laughing but also probably like “Damn, I didn’t know Jimmy was so powerful.”  Which was really amazing because I wore tight t-shirts all the time. HOW COULD THEY NOT KNOW?!?!  (What an unbelievable douchebag I was).  After picking up and spinning with just about everyone, it was the moment of truth: time to pick up Larry.  In my hazy memory, I think she was actually kinda excited.  Everyone else seemed to enjoy it and, while I was in meathead-mode, it’s not like I was FORCING people to take these rides on my shoulders.

Unfortunately, after throwing Larry over my shoulder and beginning the spin part of the ride, JGT was overwhelmed with the dizzies.  Could there have been worse timing? NO TIMES A MILLION TRILLION!  So I fell down.  Although, when I say fall, you know I mean “crashed into the cement wall of the building while kinda-tossing Larry into a parked car,” right?  *Cue the theme song from “Gladiator”–ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!?!

Aside from a bump on her head, Larry was fine.  I, on the other hand, needed to have another co-worker bandage my torn ear up while I laughed and profusely apologized and wanted to crawl into the sewer where people like Jimmy Meathead belong.  Larry assured me everything was okay and she was fine, but the image of a powerful, restaurant manager, I was going for had been shattered.

In an attempt to prove to everyone that I WAS FINE! EVERYTHING IS FINE! I went back into the Whirlyball bar and ordered tequila shots for myself, my good server friend and the owner of “Casa’s House”.  The owner was a big tequila guy, so what, was I NOT supposed to order shots for him and I?  That woulda’ been crazy.  So we took back to back tequila shots together because that’s what managers trying to impress owners do.  (You’re not a manager? Oh, then you just wouldn’t know.)  

Larry was back inside and laughing and I was making fun of myself and everyone was back to having a good time.  Then, as one does, I had to take a little break for a tinkle…And the next thing I know, I was eye-to-eye with the base of a toilet bowl:

Whirly

My good dear sweet friend Kyle took this picture and stayed with me as I inspected the base of the toilet with my eyes closed and drool coming out of my mouth (that’s how plumbers do it, guys.)  Eventually, I was taken out of Whirlyball by my friends like the dead guy in “Weekend At Bernie’s”.  *If you look close, you can see my bandaged up ear.  Isn’t that fun!?!?!

2 days later, the next time I saw Larry at work, I gave her a gift card I bought for a super expensive spa in the city and apologized profusely for maybe 48 straight minutes.  We never ended up dating.  The VP of Ops is so lucky.

OUR WORLD:

The NFL Draft is tonight and it’s one of my favorite days of the year.  Here are some quick Jimmy scouting reports on guys the Bears may take:

Roquan Smith:  Killer linebacker from Georgia who I know is good because I saw him play in 3 games and he made some big tackles.  Also, he was originally committed to go to UCLA, which means he’s basically a Bruin and we were basically classmates and so he’s going to be good.

Final Grade: I want.

Quenton Nelson:  Big fat guy who plays a boring position for a school that I HATE.  Was he good? Who cares.  All guards do is block and if you pay attention to blocking while watching football YOU ARE LYING THAT YOU DO THAT!  All the draft people say he’s “can’t miss”, but drafting a big ugly is the quickest way for your team to ruin the excitement of draft night.

Final Grade: I don’t want.

Minkah Fitzpatrick:  DB from Alabama so he’s probably good because Nick Saban only recruits studs and then is mean to them so they’re “well coached” by the time they reach the league.  I do keep hearing that he doesn’t really have a position, corner or safety, and since I don’t remember him when I watched Alabama last year; THAT’S A PROBLEM!  The Bears already have one Alabama safety.  That’s enough.

Final Grade: I don’t really want but I don’t totally not want.

Denzel Ward:  Fast, little corner from Ohio State.  I know nothing about him, but fast little corners sound fun!  I’ve heard draft experts describe him as “twitchy” like it’s a good thing.  Hope he doesn’t have tourettes and get in trouble for saying bad words in front of his coaches!

Final Grade: I kinda want.

Calvin Ridley:  Receiver who caught the game-winning touchdown in Alabama’s National Championship game.  This guy was talked about throughout the year as the best receiver in the country and I saw him play well in two games so…HE’S A STUD!  Also, receivers are fun to root for and we need a new young one to help us get past the sting of Kevin White flaming out (although…I haven’t totally given up on him…)

Final Grade: I want.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Endless highlights with this guy…

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When your team takes an offensive lineman in the first round and if the Bears do it tonight I’M GONNA BE FURIOUS!

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

I went 3 for 5 last night because I threw in the Bruins on the moneyline too.  That’s a net positive, folks.  Tonight? Not gambling.  Too busy watching the NFL Draft.  Wait!  Can you gamble on the draft?  I’ll report back tomorrow.

(My account currently at $188.20)

K bye.

Wednesday Work Robots and Missing Immaturity (4/25/18)

OUR WORLD:

 

Wednesday is such a day for adults.  The midpoint of the weekday grind is the exact point where you don’t know where or who you really are anymore; you’re just the person who puts on the least wrinkled shirt in your closet and walks your dog before disappearing into a computer screen for 9 hours (9, not 8, because you’re a GOOD WORKER BEE!)  Throughout the day, some people will make hump day jokes because of that talking-camel commercial and you’ll kinda chuckle because the word “hump” is funny.  But, all you really want to do is not talk to ANYONE and just blackout until late Thursday afternoon when Friday’s rays of sunshine begin to poke through your office blinds.

This grind is such a mature mindset.  I remember coming out of college and trying to treat every night like Friday because “I like to have fun!”  The thought of basically transforming myself into a work-robot during the week was too sobering for Jimmy IT’S ALWAYS GOOD TIMES.  And while this maturing is good for the health of my brain and body, I’ll have instances where I daydream about getting to be immature again.  Don’t you?  Like, don’t you just want to take your shirt off in the middle of your office sometimes and run out while screaming “I’M FREE!!!”  You’re not gonna do it, but it’s funny to think about.  Thinking about EXPLOSIONS of immaturity is what gets me through some of life’s most mundane and scary situations/settings; and I think if you’re not partaking in this exercise as of yet, it might help you as well.  So today, I’d like to start a new Wednesday tradition on Jimmyschair and write about “places where you really want to act more immature than is socially acceptable”:

The Dentist Office:

You probably haven’t gone in over 3 years and it’s getting to the point where you’ve convinced yourself that “something real bad is happening.”  I went for the first time in like 5 years a couple months ago (not to brag) and was POSITIVE the dentist was going to take one look at me before calling a Priest to read me my last rights.  (Spoiler alert: I’m still alive and it wasn’t that bad).  But your imagination runs WILD to the point where you start contemplating “what if I just never went to the dentist again?  People in olden times didn’t go and they seem to be doing okay in most of the movies I’ve seen them in.”  That is until you throw a pile of almonds in your stink-trap of a mouth, bite down and feel like an a-bomb went off inside your back molar.  The “oh fuck, something’s really wrong in my mouth” is a top 1 worst feeling in life.

So you finally make an appointment, but you’re really hoping that an alien bomber plane will just blow up the world before you actually have to go.  But that never happens because you have bad luck, so you go to the dentist and have to be MATURE and pretend like you’re not that scared.  Wouldn’t it be great to be immature here?  Like, just walk into the dentist office crying.  Go up to the receptionist wildly shaking your head and weeping “I don’t wanna go! I don’t wanna go!”  Then when the dentist emerges with his scary surgical mask, you literally SCREAM BLOODY MURDER “GET AWAY FROM ME! NO! NO! HELP! MOM HELP!!!!”  The dentist would have to try to calm you down by speaking on a sweet voice and assuring you that “everything is gonna be okay.”  But you still wouldn’t totally believe him as you sat down in that murder-chair.

Then they’d turn the lamp on and ask you to open your mouth, but since you’re still in immature-mode you just refuse to.  The dentist’s assistant would kneel down next to you and maybe rub your shoulder a little to calm you down (wouldn’t that be nice as an adult?  Guess what, kids aren’t the only ones scared of the dentist!)  So then finally, after being talked to like a baby, you’d open your mouth a little and they could begin to clean your teeth.  It’s not bad at first, but then they start scraping and you LOSE IT again.  This time, it’s a full-on “get away from me!”-fit to the point that they have to konk you on the head with a mallet to continue the cleaning.  I don’t know about you, but if my dentist appointment included being knocked out cold by a mallet-to-the-dome, I’d consider that a win for the mere fact that I wouldn’t have to hear all the drilling noises.

MY WORLD:

I’m not gonna lie guys, I am supes biz at work (cute way of saying I’ve thought about crying on a semi-regular basis over the past few weeks).  So that’s my world right now: being super busy, feeling bad that my dog is alone for way too long during the day and trying to cool it with the “I worked hard today, so I deserve to binge on candy tonight.”

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Did you think I was kidding when I said I was about to go on a big Death Cab for Cutie kick?

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When “Chicago Fire” is filming two blocks away from your apartment building and, therefore, blocking off 2 streets worth of parking.  So when you get home at night, there is no parking left and you have to park like 9 blocks away on a street known for muggings.  I’ve never watched this show and, if you do, I’d ask that you please stop.  Thank you for your service.

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

Cool thing happened to me last night, I forgot to bet on Milwaukee until midway through the first half.  Which means that I got them at (+11.5) and they covered!  San Antonio also covered, so I went 2 for 3 last night!  This parlay kid could use one hitting, but at least I’m not on some big smelly losing streak or something.  Got a bunch of games going tonight, and here’s what I’m thinking as of now:  Jazz, Wizards, Rockets, and Bucks all against the spread.  Will my thinking change between now and gametime?  Quite possibly.

(My account currently at $182.80)

K bye.