Tag: baby

“The Watcher” Review and No Carb Jail

OUR WORLD:

*There will be spoilers

Official Jimmyschair “We’re looking for a new show, what did you think of ________?”—

“The Watcher” Netflix 

What’s it about? 

It’s based on or inspired by a true story, which, spoiler alert, means that maybe something happened like this in the past, but the producers just put it in to lend immediate believability to an otherwise unbelievable story.  (Wut?) This story is about a family (omg, I love families!) that buys a house in some ritzy neighborhood, but then start getting letters in the mail from someone claiming to be “The Watcher” of the house.  This “Watcher” jabronie is mucho creepo, writing things like how this house needs young people’s blood, and knowing the names of the family’s kids, and other stuff that makes you look at your spouse with the “is this gonna be too scary for us to actually watch?”-look.  

The letters are just the tip of the iceberg (wait, there’s an iceberg?!) as the family descends into paranoia while wrestling with the budding reality that their newly purchased dream home may be (don’t say nightmare!) turning into a bad dream that wakes you up and you feel scared but you’re not sure why because WHO REMEMBERS THEIR DREAMS?!?!  You do? Cool, don’t tell anyone—nobody is interested in what you dreamt about last night.  (He’s actually right.  Shut up about your dreams.) 

What’s Good?

-The cast is incredible.  Bobby Carnivale and Naomi Watts play the two leads—husband and wife of the newly purchased bad-dream house.  Bobby Carnivale is an all-time “hey, he’s in…uh…”-guy that you like because you recognize him, and Naomi Watts is just awesome in everything she has ever been in AND I WILL HEAR NOTHING ELSE ON THE SUBJECT.  The suspects for who could be “The Watcher” are also all kinds of creepy and interesting character actors.  Think Stifler’s Mom, and Shooter McGavin, and Larry David’s brother in “Curb”, and that lady from “The Leftovers”.  You’ve seen them all, and they all specialize in different ways to make you laugh and squirm.   

-The tone.  It’s hard for a show to be: creepy, but not too scary; dark, but not humorless; and funny, but not goofy.  “The Watcher” is able to expertly toe these lines.  The writers are able to weave enough humor into the episodes that you’re not overwhelmed by the anxiety you’re feeling watching this family get terrorized.  

-The length!  It’s only 7 episodes and each episode is about 45-53 minutes long.  You’ll finish this show quicker than you really want to.

What’s BAD? (THIS PART CONTAINS SPOILERS!  IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED IT YET, SKIP TO THE NEXT SECTION AND COME BACK TO READ THIS PART ONCE YOU FINISH THE SHOW.)

–The main thing that gnawed at me from very early on in the show was that they should just sell the house IMMEDIATELY.  I wasn’t really buying the argument for them to stay.  I get it, they sunk a ton of money into purchasing this house, but when you start getting letters naming your kids and talking about how the house wants their blood and that you’ll never stop watching…I don’t know, maybe take a loss?  Is living in a not-mansion really that horrific of a prospect for these people?  “I do love our kids, but I also love living in a big house.”  Yeah, the house is sweet, but you know what else is sweet? NOT GETTING MURDERED.  Naomi Watts would use the “well, if we just cut and run, what does that teach our kids?”-argument, and to that I’d say that I’m pretty sure the kids would be all for cutting and running if that meant SAVING THEIR LIVES.  Seriously, imagine the daughter getting stabbed by The Watcher, and as she lies bleeding on the floor Naomi Watts says, “hey, but at least we didn’t run from our fears, right?!”  Call me crazy, but I’d opt for the route that doesn’t involve the possibility of my kids getting stabbed.

-The ending.  It just felt lazy.  Yes, the real-life story about this house has remained unsolved, but by episode 7 does anybody really give a shit if it’s not being totally accurate to the true story?  The writers and producers didn’t mind taking liberties throughout the rest of the series, so why stop now?  Naomi Watts and Bobby Carnivale are impossibly good looking, you think that’s what the real-life couple looked like?  You really think the true story included a private detective who delivered all of her updates like a Broadway leading lady?  Please.  We lose most grasp of this being a realistic story once we see Stifler’s mom on screen.  So, give us an ending!  My theory is that shows that have ambiguous endings like this, where “anyone could be The Watcher!  Oooooo spooky!” is the writers room just admitting that they weaved (wove? Woven?) too big of a web of suspects to come up with a satisfying ending.  Here’s a hot tip from me, your resident screenwriting SAVANT (when’s the last time you finished a script?) the key to a great ending is to give the audience what they want in a way they’d never expect it.  Think about how this show ended…is that what you wanted? 

-Bobby Carnivale’s character constantly cupping the faces of his family.  The show was creepy enough that we didn’t need Bobby C. softly caressing his kids faces every time he was trying to give them a “I’m a good dad, right?”-talk.  

-The Private Detective lady with cancer came off way too actor-y.  The accent, the clothes, the gloves, the eyebrows, the sickness.  Everything just screamed, “you can find me on Broadway!”

So, cut the shit, should I watch this show?

–Yes.  While I have some issues with the story and a few acting quirks, overall, I was supremely entertained throughout these 7 episodes.  I don’t think this show is award-worthy, but there aren’t a ton of new great options these days.  I always come back to this question: after dinner, are you excited to watch the next episode of the show you’ve been watching?  With “The Watcher” I always was.  

FINAL TAKEAWAY

Good, not great. 

MY WORLD:

I’m doing the thing where I know that I need to lose weight, but I’m not totally ready to commit to a shitty diet, so I’m compromising at the “I’ll eat healthy during the week”-stage of denial.  Can I just say? It sucks.  Lately, fewer and fewer of my clothes have been fitting properly and there’s only so long I can go with the “must be because of how much I’m lifting!”-excuse.  I am lifting (and EATING!) but I’ve also used that as an excuse to eat whatever I want, whenever I want under the guise of needing the protein!  I have discovered, to my dismay, that heavy bagels are not good sources of protein.  I know, I was surprised too.   

Is there a worse feeling than grabbing the shirt that used to big on you, putting it on, and feeling the dreaded shirt-hug?  Sometimes, I don’t love a hug.  Or, when you do the laundry and you accidentally leave that pair of pants that still “fits” in the dryer?  The dryer is the only household appliance I’ve ever fantasized about torturing.  Like, the movie “Seven”, but my Maytag in the Gwyneth Paltrow role.  (The timer knob in the box?)  I’m convinced that my dryer knows to hide that pair of pants only when I’m putting on weight.  That way, when I take them out later I’m forced to contemplate whether I’m ready to commit full-time to “I’m just bigger”-lifestyle.  And honestly, what’s holding me back is money!  I think I’d be more willing to become a dedicated Fattopotamus if someone else would shop (and pay for) new clothes for me.  In the end, I’d rather not eat bread for a few weeks than go shopping…once.

After some serious self-reflection, here are the stages of my exercise to diet:

Stage 1:  “They say lifting allows you to burn calories even when you’re not working out.  Thus, I should lift, but also eat whatever I want, wherever I want because my body will now be able to burn all of those extra calories.  If you have a hunk of meat alongside your beer and bowl of chips, that protein basically cancels out the carbs.  Protein is vital!”

Stage 2:  “Should I start incorporating cardio?”

Stage 3:  “Hmm, my stretchy-waisted pants are tighter than they used to be.  Must be because of all of the quad gains from leg day and definitely not from having dessert every night of the week now!”

Stage 4:  “Shit, I need to start incorporating cardio.  But first!  Let’s just try not eating breakfast!”

Stage 5:  “So, I’m some cardio now.” 

Stage 6:  “Out of curiosity, I just tried to put on an old pair of pants that do not have a stretchy waist.  Now, I’m going to buy rope and write one last letter.”

Stage 7:   “I know I’m bigger than I want to be, but I think my face looks like this more because of the haircut.”

Stage 8:  “Delete that picture! No, now let me see your phone!”

Stage 9:  “I’ll cut carbs during the week.”

Stage 10: “If muscle weighs more than fat, I’ll lose weight if I stop lifting, right?”

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

That Bears game last night was as much fun watching a Bears game as I’ve had in a couple years.  Yes, it’s cool we beat the brakes off the Patriots on primetime, but I was more excited that all of our most important young players had BIG games: Fields, Roquan, Brisker, Gordon, and Mooney all made big plays in this game.  

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Seeing the leaves pile up in your lawn and knowing how many frustrating hours of rounding them up are ahead of you.  Each day that passes, my anxiety rises.   

MY BABY IS SO CUTE MOMENT:

The Warden really loves when I let my hair fall onto her forehead.  She smiles huge and acts like she’s getting an award-winning massage (are there massage awards?)

MY BABY IS SO CUTE, BUT…MOMENT:

Is there anything more frustrating than trying to feed a baby who won’t take the bottle but is still desperately hungry?  HEY, BABY! I HAVE A BOTTLE AND YOU’RE STILL HUNGRY!  USE YOUR HEAD! 

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I’m piping hot on baseball and football right now.  Unfortunately, for the next couple nights there’s only basketball and hockey on.  This is when I should take a few days off.  That being said, you’re not my Dad.  Let’s bang a Dallas, OKC, Golden State ATS parlay tonight.

K, bye. 

I May Be in Serious Legal Trouble

MY WORLD:

My world is a little baby girl right now (every living thing in the universe just rolled their eyes.  No Jimmy, I’m not kidding.  Even cadavers, and weird animals with no eyes.). Yeah, writing that first sentence made my skin crawl, but I promise to always be honest in this blog (tell us EXACTLY how much you owe in student loans then!) and that’s a totally honest statement.  I’m not writing it to sound like the sensitive, stunningly hot, surprisingly JACKED Dad that you’re thinking I may be (not thinking that) I’m writing it because I’ve been trying to think of what to write in this section and I don’t want it to ALWAYS be about our dumb baby who CAN’T EVEN FART WITHOUT CRYING YET!  Seriously, what if you cried every time you farted?  Actually, yeah.  If you’re reading this and you don’t have kids yet and are wondering “but Jimmy, now that you’ve been a parent for 4 seconds, what is parenting REALLY like?”  WELL, SINCE YOU ASKED!  If you’re wondering if you and your partner are ready to parent a newborn, try this: for the next 24 hours, every time you have to fart, start scream crying.  Every single time you feel a fart, you have to start huffing, and then have that constipated huffing sound VIOLENTLY turn into growling cries that last no shorter than 11 minutes.  After 24 hours, if neither you or your spouse has started cutting yourself, then you’re ready to be a parent!  Congratulations!!! 

Okay, that was a sidetrack.  (I hate you.)  My world is the little baby in my house right now, so you’re just going to need to bear with me and this section for a little.  For the sake of this dumbass blog, my wife is the VP of Ops, and my baby will now be referred to as “The Warden”.   I promise it won’t be all parenting stories.  Now, instead of complaining about the things a baby does (you just did that, though?  Oh, you think the readers won’t be able to tell that your “hypothetical” challenge was related to your daughter?  So you think your readers are dumb.  See this everyone? HE THINKS YOU’RE ALL IDIOTS!)  I’m going to write about how bad of a parent I am here.  I think you need to know the mistakes I’m making because there’s a chance that I shouldn’t be allowed to do this.  Like, legally.  I’m not a lawyer (then why do you have SO MUCH student loan debt?)

Last night, I think I almost popped the Warden’s head off.  Not…wait…okay, it’s not like I grabbed her head and was trying to rip it off (this is not going well.)  You need context (and YOU need a lawyer.)

So, the Warden was going El Nutso.  It was about dusk and, according to our calculations, she should have been sweetly resting in her swing thing so the VP and I could cook and drink ranch waters until driving would be a crime.  Surprisingly, our calculations were off.  (You just put ‘80085’ into the calculator, didn’t you?) The Warden alerted us to this miscalculation with the use of rage squirming and growl howling deep into the early night sky.  Like any fabulous parents, the VP and I both calmly took turns reminding the Warden that we could, in fact, hear her and that we would love to comply with any requests.  Unfortunately, the Warden did not have any demands.  She simply needed the world to hear her. 

The VP held her on her chest.  I cradled her gently and rocked her back and forth while singing her my new song, entitled “I love you, but you are being kind of a jerk.”  Then we put her in the rocking swing.  We put the sweet music on in the rocking swing!  The shusher machine (wut?) Yeah, we literally have a little machine thing that just goes “shhhhhhhh”.  So we put that on.  No dice.  Then the VP was all like, “well, should we sell her on the internet?” and I was like, “no, this is my baby!  And I love her!  And that love is worth more to me than the hundreds of thousands of dollars we might be able to get for her on the internet. Not to mention, I bet you don’t even know what website we could list her on!  Do you?!  Do you know what website we could put her for sale on?  What is the website?  What is it?  Yeah, but how do you spell that?”

I shut The VP’s laptop HARD, and told her “I got this.”  I took the Warden, who I love more than hundreds of thousands of dollars, into the other room as I went into “Daddy’s got this”-mode.

That’s when I almost popped her head off.  You see, I have recently been implementing this burping method that I saw on Instagram.  Now I know what you’re thinking, “you’re going to Instagram for parenting advice?”  Well, the portly woman in the video had white hair and spoke in calming tones so…uhhhhhh, yeah, I think she knows what she’s doing!

This perfectly legitimate burping method, includes me putting the Warden on my knee and then holding her cheeks with one hand, while my other hand works on her back to help her sit straight up as I rotate her around in small circles.  The idea is to expand her stomach, allowing her diaphragm (haha you said diaphragm) to expand and expel gas.  DAD OF THE FUCKING CENTURY, MUCH?!?!?!

However, the Warden’s violent wailings had an unforeseen consequence of forcing my brain to tell my body to something else.  You see, instead of my brain telling my other hand to go on her back, my brain told my other hand to go on the back of her neck.  So, when I tried to sit her up straight, my hands were basically ONLY HOLDING HER HEAD.  In short, I lifted her by her head and, look, she’s small and I think there was definitely a chance of it popping off.  Judging by her screams, against all odds, increasing in volume, it did appear that the Warden, too, thought her head was about to pop off. 

Now, I know the Warden is clearly at fault here for screaming me stupid, but…like, am I in any legal trouble?  Legally speaking, can I be charged with ‘attempted head pop’?  That’s not a charge, right.  It’s not, so, you’re actually the one on trial now.  How dare you accuse me of attempted head pop! Don’t tell me how to parent!  Nah nah nah, SAVE IT!  MY LIL BABY WARDEN’S HEAD IS STILL ON!  TELL IT TO THE JUDGE!  I’LL PUT YOU ON TRIAL!

(Are you fucking drunk? Or you’re just dumb all the time now?)

OUR WORLD:

You know that feeling when you’re in a small, shitty town and you go to a restaurant that you know is going to suck?  That’s what being a Bears fan this year, and most years, is like.  You’re super hungry and want a break from the gas station ‘Subway’, so you say something like “we should give Memphis Grill a shot!”  And instead of reminding yourself that there’s no goddamn way a place in Arkansas called “Memphis Grill” is going to be good, you dilute yourself into thinking this place was on the ONE episode of “Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives” that your fatass hasn’t seen yet.  Well guess what tubby (really going after your fat self here), just like every episode of Triple D, you’ve seen this Bears season before!  And just like “Memphis Grill” it’s going to make your stomach hurt and make you sad. 

But who wants to read about this sour meat NFL season Bears fans are about to chow down on?!?! That’s no fun.  So, the same way you convince yourself that Arkansas’ “Memphis Grill” is going to actually be good, let’s do that with the Bears.

The “you can’t mess up a hamburger that bad” possibility:  Justin Fields has dominated football games since he was a little kid.  He was the top recruit in the country out of high school, and then threw for a billion touchdowns at Ohio State.  He had one of the best, toughest performances I’ve ever seen in a bowl game against a Clemson defense that is probably all in the pros now.  I know the Bears suck at life, but they can’t mess HIM up that bad, right?  He can’t dominate every level of football, get to the league, look around Soldier Field and go “oh wait, I’m a Bear now, so I need to start sucking ass at playing football”.   RIGHT?!?! 

The “as long as you stay away from the seafood, you’ll be fine” possibility:  As long as we run the ball and play solid defense, we’ll be able to stay in games.  And if you stay in games, you can steal some? And if Justin Fields doesn’t realize he’s supposed to SUCK now that he’s a Bear, maybe he can actually win us a game or two?  As long as our defense holds up, we could surpise some people.  Hey, Eberflus-led defenses have been awesome in Indianapolis and it’s not like they’ve had superb quarterback play over the past few years.  And those Colts teams contended for playoff spots basically every year he was there.  So…hmm…

The “every town has a hidden little gem” possibility:  What if Darnell Mooney IS that dude?  I know he was drafted in a late round and has oddly skinny legs, but what if he actually does turn into a legitimate number one receiver?  His training camp highlights have been pretty sick.  Him and Fields seem to have some serious chemistry.  Cooper Kupp wasn’t a first round pick!  Is it that OUTRAGEOUS to envision Darnell Mooney as Cooper Kupp-lite?  If he turns into a legit number one, I could see Cole Kmet taking some strides and becoming an above-average tight end.  If you close your eyes and just say “Darnell Mooney becomes a LEGIT number one receiver this year,” the Bears offense has a chance to be not awful.

Okay, I’m exhausted.  That was mentally and physically exhausting.  But you better fuckin’ believe those are the little thoughts running around my head as we head into this NFL season. 

CAN’T WE GET LUCKY ONE TIME AND NOT HAVE DIARRHEA AFTER A BEARS SEASON?!?!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME: 

College football kicks off a week from tomorrow.  Next week, we should talk about what we’re all going to be doing and cooking and eating and drinking and wearing.  I might buy a new QZ.  IN FACT, I AM GOING TO BUY A NEW QZ!!!!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME: 

The self-checkout lanes at grocery stores.  I will stand in line to have humans that are NOT ME scan and bag my groceries.  I can’t be the only one who gets big time anxiety when using the self-checkout lane and running out of space on the scale after I’ve scanned a bunch of items.  It’s like there is ZERO CHANCE I’m not going to get the error message on the screen saying “Please put your item on the scale after scanning.”  It makes me so mad I wanna hit the screen with a spiked hammer.  JUST MAKE A BIGGER SCALE AREA!

JIMMY COOKS:

I’m on a huge sandwich kick lately (lately? Okay pal!  Hey everyone, Jimmy JUST got into sandwiches), and I recently made one for my brother that was a HIT.  I stole the recipe from a restaurant I used to work at, but last I checked…that restaurant doesn’t have a blog.  Sooooooo, MY RECIPE NOW BITCH!  Here’s what you do:

  1. Find someone you want to impress with a great sandwich.
  2. Tell that person to sit back, relax, and strap it down.
  3. Buy a nice French baguette, prosciutto, brie, arugula, red onion, and mayo.
  4. Cut the red onion into thin slices.  Razor thin.  If you don’t cut yourself while cutting this onion, the slices aren’t thin enough.
  5. Cut the brie into triscuit-like squares (are rectangles okay? WHAT ABOUT TRIANGLES?!?!)
  6. Drizzle olive oil on the baguette and slightly toast it on a pan (on a pan? Why not a bowl?  Thanks for the tip!)
  7. On baguette, you’re going mayo, prosciutto, brie, arugula, thin thin THIN red onion (thin, as in the opposite of Jimmy)
  8. Give that person you’re looking to impress this sandwich.
  9. If this person^ is an attractive female, give her my telephone number and don’t tell her I’m married.
  10. Yes, you can put some Dijon mustard on there, but only if you hold up the mustard and say in your best French accent “pardon, do you have any grey poupon?” and then laugh hard like a real jerk until the entire room feels uncomfortable.

K, bye.