Tag: chicago

“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’m Throwing A Massive BLOWOUT Grown-Up Halloween Party

MY WORLD:

Are the days of fun Halloween parties over for me?  You know, the adult ones (wait…like “Adult”?) where everyone wears funny costumes and gets drunk together?  I think those are done for me and when that dawned on me the other night, I got sad in my head but didn’t admit it to The VP or The Warden (your 3 month old asked why you were pissy for no reason?)  So I’m coming here, to my chairblogthing, to say that I am sad that I think my days of fun grown people (better than “adult”, nice) Halloween parties are over.

Now look, I’m not asking for you to send me a “hang in there” text, but I’m going to allow myself to feel sad that the nights of getting bombed in a parrot costume are in my rearview.  Yes, I did once buy a $150 dollar parrot costume to wear while I was waiting tables, and then later that night when I went around bars in Chicago thinking some HotBabe5000 would see me in my parrot costume and go: “that guy must be funny and, therefore, I must make out with him!”  Not wanting to get bogged down in the details of whether that happened or not (it didn’t…not close, actually…just a grown man wearing a parrot costume living in the forever-friend-zone) I do remember that it was really fun.  AND I LOVE FUN! 

But now I live in Northbrook, a Chicago suburb where Halloween consists of tiny humans getting to dress up, while the larger humans are just there to chaperone and say things like, “say trick or treat!” or, “say thank you!”  This is Halloween now, for me, isn’t it?  Eventually taking The Warden around dressed up as something “ohmygod CUTE!” and reminding her to thank the strangers for putting a fun-sized DadsGonnaEatThisLater bar in her bag.  Say goodbye to the days of shots and cigs, and hello to the days of “I SAID STOP AT THE CORNER!”

Unless…(No….)

Unless someone in their mid-to-late thirties has the gall to stand for what is right…(why is everything going into slow motion?)

Unless that person is willing to say, “we may be in the suburbs, but our hearts are still in the city!”…(people are slowly standing up!  The bearded man has tears in his eyes!)

Unless ONE brave soul has the courage to look past the side-eyed glares coming from the parents who brag about not letting their kids watch television, stand up, and say:

“WE WILL NOT GO QUIETLY INTO THE NIGHT!  WE WILL NOT VANISH WITHOUT A FIGHT!  WE’RE GOING TO LIVE ON!  WE’RE GOING TO SURVIVE!  TODAY, WE CELEBRATE OUR INDEPENDENCE DAY GROWN-UP HALLOWEEN!” 

With my fellow party parents now chanting “ONE MORE YEAR!” I nod and snarl my nose a little before grabbing the imaginary microphone (everything is imaginary here, pal) like Leo in Wolf of Wall Street, and bellowing: “HALLOWEEN PARTY AT MY HOUSE!  NO KIDS ALLOWED!!!”

Folks, here’s what that party would feel like:

To gain entry, you would have to wear a costume and I would have the right to deny access to those wearing lame or unfunny costumes.  Why? Because nothing is worse than the guys trying to look cool in their Halloween costume.  You know the type: the strong guys who were “300” warriors, or the guys who dress as characters from “Yellowstone”, or the dopes who buy scrubs and a stethoscope.  If you’re a guy trying to look cool, you’re not getting in.  This year, you’ll spot these as the guys dressed up like Top Gun Tom Cruise.  THERE WILL BE NO FAKE TOM CRUISE’S IN MY SUBURBAN GROWN UP HALLOWEEN PARTY! 

Women? Meh, wear whatever you want.  I don’t care, you’re in. (When the VP asks what this is about, what are you going to say?) Honestly, I just don’t even notice other women when The VP of Ops is in the room.  What can I say? She’s the only woman I see!  No, but seriously, if you do try to make out with me because “god, that portly fella’ in the ladybug costume just radiates sex appeal” you can just call me on my burner phone to arrange something BUZZ OFF! 

Once you pass the douchebag test at the door, you will hear Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” and ONLY Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”.  Yes, it will be on a loop the entire night because that song rocks (cool word) and the rest of the Halloween songs are kinda’ dumb.  All of you “but, what about ‘Monster Mash’?!”-inbreds can go pound sand.  The singers of that song are using the voice you use when you’re trying to make fun of how a rich, uptight asshole sounds.  “It was a graveyahhhd smashhhh”.  Please, that song is a CERTIFIED GetAwayFromMe.

So, we’ve got “Thriller” just blaring, and you’re looking for the bar.  Uh oh!  Who’s that Ladybug doing the only part of the “Thriller” dance he knows?  Why, it’s me, Jimmy and as the host who boasts THEEEEEE MOST roast, it is my pleasure to make you a cocktail.  Just past the bowls of candy corn (don’t like candy corn? Good! More for this bug!) and blacklights and the big pots with dry ice smoke coming out of it (so spooooky) you will find my bar where I will make you any drink you can imagine as long as it’s beer!!! (Wait.). Help yourself to my fridge!  THIS WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER!  NO EXPENSE SPARED! (There are only dented Miller Lite cans in here.  How old are these?!)

What’s that? You found the liquor cabinet?  Oooooo, well that’s funny you say it’s locked because I specifically meant to leave it unlocked for ALL OF MY WONDERFUL GUESTS!  Excuse me while I “look” for the key and never talk to you for the rest of the party.  Because it’s Thriller!  IN. THE. NIGHT!

Alright, so we’ve got “Thriller” and any drink you can imagine (just old beer)!  This party is BUMPIN’!  What else we got?  Awwww sooky sooky now, is that pizza from Domino’s?  Nope!  It’s Little Caesar’s (oh.)  Fresh cocktail (beer, and not fresh) in one hand, delectable treat in the other, and surrounded only by funny costumes and cool vibes.  You’ll turn to your partner and ask, “am I dreaming?”  I know.  If this is heaven I…uh…wanna die!  I WANNA DIE!

While you and your partner debate just how concerning it is that the host of the party keeps yelling “I WANNA DIE!” , I’d like to point your attention to the flat-screen television (you don’t have to say flat-screen anymore, they’re all flat now.) where the late college football game is on: Stanford at UCLA!  Oh wow, UCLA is down by 18 points in the first quarter despite being undefeated, having a real shot at the College Football Playoff, and Stanford having one of the worst years in program history.  BOO!  It’s the Fat ManBug and I’m he has temporarily paused his “I WANNA DIE” screaming, to ask you a question, “do you have any drugs? Not the fun ones.  The scary ones.” BECAUSE IT’S HALLLOOOOWEEEEEN!  I am He is serious.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door and someone hired male strippers!  Wait…No no no.  These are just the hot guys trying to look cool who need to remember to only call me on my NEW phone number.  Not coming in.  Not here.  Breezing right past the crestfallen VP of Ops, you will encounter the game area of the party where everyone looks at Instagram, before holding up their phone and asking “have you seen this?”  Even if you haven’t, you’re going to say “yeah!” because few things are as awkward as watching a video on someone else’s phone while they’re holding it up waiting for you to laugh.  Classsssssic Halloween games? Uhhhhh THAT’S A 10-4!

Once you mosey on over to the couch, you’ll find people your age complaining about everything!  The skinny guy in the Iron Man costume will be whining about the cost of daycare, while the lady with the pencil mustache painted on-who nobody knows what the hell she is-reminds the skinny guy that once the kids reach school age, the costs of their travel sports teams is even more outrageous!  If you wish to stay in this VIP area, just make sure to talk about things you don’t like, but definitely cannot change.  Might I suggest, something in the realm of the oncoming winter weather and depressed we’re all about to be?!

This is my kinda’ party! 

Are you feeling what I’m feeling? (Are you the guy whose wife is holding your arm while saying “you didn’t even go to undergrad there!” through her gritted teeth?)  You know it!  That shweepy bloated feeling when 10 o’clock hits and you’ve had more than one beer, and all you want to do is put on your loosest sweatpants and drink alcohol without carbonation is upon us all!  (God there are a lot of exclamation points in here.).

THIS IS A 37 YEAR OLD’S GROWN-UP HALLOWEEN PARTY!

There.  Now, I’m actually looking forward to just walking around a neighborhood before stealing my kid’s candy when they go to sleep.  Aren’t you?

You’re welcome.

OUR WORLD:

In honor of Halloween coming up and me being a devoted CHUBBERINO, here are the Official 2022 Jimmyschair Halloween Candy Rankings:

  1. Snickers
  2. Peanut M&Ms
  3. Reese’s Cup
  4. York
  5. Butterfinger
  6. Kit Kat
  7. Twix
  8. Dots
  9. Baby Ruth
  10. Milky Way

1,000,000. Three Musketeers.  Be less interesting, I DARE YOU!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I am not a scary movie/show person, and I’m not sure if this show is considered scary, but “The Watcher” on Netflix is super creepy, but not creepy enough for me to not like it.  God, that was worded horribly!  What I’m trying to say is, show good. Me likey. Me no likey scary.  Show scary little.  Still likey.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Both The VP and The Warden have Covid right now.  I had it a few weeks ago and cared about my wife and infant daughter enough to make sure neither of them got it.  In other news, did you hear The VP went to a Harry Styles concert last week?

MY BABY IS SO CUTE AND I LOVE HER SO MUCH MOMENT:

El Warderino was infected by The VP aka The Host sometime yesterday, but she still slept through the night.  When I went to wake her up this morning, even though she had a little fever, she still was super smiley when she saw me. 

MY BABY IS SO CUTE AND I LOVER SO MUCH, BUT…MOMENT:

After I woke her up this morning and she hit me with that megawatt smile, I realized that she had completely blown out her diaper with Covid poop (the Covid The Host VP infected her with?)

JIMMY GAMBLES:

Believe it or not, I’m actually on a heater gambling (don’t believe it.  I beg you! STOP READING NOW!) My college football picks for this weekend are: UCLA (+5.5), OK State (+6.5), Mississippi State (+21).

K bye.

A Message to Liars and NFL Predictions

MY WORLD:

Sometimes when I get in the shower, after looking myself in the mirror, lifting my shoulders and saying “not bad”, I think that this lifting and not-dieting thing is actually working.  This logic, a fantastic discovery according to my shower-brain, draws a correlation between thinking about your diet and weight gain: the more you think about what you’re eating, the more you gain from what you’re eating.  A breakthrough, to put it mildly, in the weight-loss world.  “If I just don’t think about gaining weight, but I do think about being healthy, then I shall be healthy.”  My shower-brain is imaginative and optimistic and nice, and that’s what I want to be.  I want to be my shower-brain.

Unfortunately, my after-shower-brain, has the personality of sandpaper, and the tact of a goddamn two-by-four to the back of the head.  Now, was it my fault, that I tried putting on a t-shirt I KNEW wasn’t going to fit right after I got out of the shower and in front of my bedroom mirror?  Or, was it my shower-brain’s fault for gently whispering “it’s working, Jimmy.  All you have to do is believe!” as I rifled through the “dude, it’s been years since these fit right”-part of my shirt drawer.  I like my shower-brain, so let’s just take it easy on SB.  I believed!  I put the pink shirt on (you can’t make fun of that color anymore cuz it’s offensive so shut up, asshole) and what I thought was still my shower-brain grunted, “look in the mirror.”  Lo and behold, the tightness I was feeling around my midsection was NOT my silly imagination playing a classsssssic tummy goof on me “tehehehe, you’re not fat! Gotcha!”  No.  My mirror revealed a tire-like midsection, which caused my after-shower-brain, the one you see in italics throughout many Jimmyschair posts, to roar with the brand of mean-spirited laughter typically found in judging panels from early 2000s reality shows.  “You’re fat.  Now put on the bigger workout shirt, and leave.”  But…but! “Those khakis you wore a few months back that you’re scared to try on again?  Yeah, no chance.  Goodbye.  NEXT!”

That’s also exactly what having my student loans is like.  (Did somebody say CURVEBALL?!?!?!). Most days I don’t dwell on the fact that there’s a big number that exists solely to hurt MY feelings.  Be it on the scale or on the student loan website, which can be found by simply typing ThisWillReallyBumYouOut.com into the address bar on your web browser, there are numbers that exist to throw your shower-brain down a flight of metal-edged stairs (you just have to BELIEVE you’re going to land softly!) 

I’ve been thinking a lot about my student loans, um, always (and also about your fat midsection, tell them about that again!) but especially since news of the forgiveness plan and end of the payment pause.  A lot of people have politically-aligned opinions on this plan that, as my after-shower-brain would put it, piss me the fuck off.  Fully embracing my after-shower-brain, I’d like to address the people against student loan forgiveness.

I don’t think I’m entitled to anything.  Really.  And honestly, I have so much student loan debt that this forgiveness plan really doesn’t help me much at all.  This forgiveness plan is the equivalent of me sneezing before putting on the tiny pink shirt this morning (not tiny, just a medium) and thinking the resulting weight loss from that sneeze would help the fit of that teeny tiny baby shirt.  A medium?  My student loans shop in the “Wow, this big?” section of the Big and Tall store.

And it’s this weight that gives me the credibility to have a fucking opinion on this plan.  A credibility, that I would gleefully shed myself of if ever offered, that is lacking from most of the people I have heard, seen and read sharing their opinions.  If you’re not fat, don’t talk about how hard it is being fat!  Instead of commenting on individual facebook posts or text message chains or writing in to some stupid news opinion douche, I’d like to say here that if you have an opinion on this forgiveness plan, without having any experience carrying any student loan debt, kindly grab a sock from the bottom of your laundry hamper, push it FAR down your throat, and choke on it.

Congratulations if you went to school 50-plus years ago when tuition was eight dollars, or if you had parents who worked hard enough to earn the kind of money that disqualifies loans from your equation, or if you didn’t go to school because it was too expensive and now find yourself in a job that pays you well enough to buy a computer that gives you the ability to write “not my problem” in the Facebook comment section.  Sincerely, congratulations. 

I know that a major part of your opposition is rooted in a desire for the people benefitting from this plan (me) to acknowledge the superiority of the people not benefitting from this plan (you).  I wish I was one of you people.  You people are in a better situation than I am, and I full-heartedly admit to being jealous of you.  This is not an argument about who is better.  You are.  I admit that.  My name is honesty.  Have we met?

It appears not, unfortunately, as you continue to try sheathing this an argument behind the “well, I shouldn’t have to pay for your bad financial decision”-curtain.  Hey Oz, we all know this is just about you not getting something that me and the rest of the regretful fatsos who believed a degree would lead them to your promised land are getting.  You’re not getting something that others are, and you’re pissed.  So can you at least stop lying about why you’re pissed?  You’re not pissed about having to “foot the bill.”  You’re fucking not, liar.  This will be paid for by the federal government adding to a deficit, which you don’t understand but are pretending to online.  Eventually, could our taxes be raised slightly?  Maybe.  Or, could it be paid for by…spending 17 trillion instead of 18 trillion dollars on the defense budget?  Or, by maybe making Amazon pay more than zero dollars in taxes?  Or, by the same way we paid for the bank bailouts, airline bailouts, auto bailouts, or whateverthefuck bailouts that came before that you had ZERO opinion about?

I know you’re the kind of person that loves saying “life isn’t fair.”  So think about that for a second.  Done?  Great.  Life also evolves and we should attempt to correct mistakes unearthed over time and help people that could really use it, right?  What because you were hazed when you joined the Alpha Sigma Dickhead, every person that joins that frat for the rest of time should also have to eat shit and chug Smirnoff?  There are young adults and aging parents who have been shaken down by the higher education system for DECADES that are finally getting to catch their breath.  You’re screaming at people who are running from a burning building that is chasing them. 

These are people that would not have been able to go to school without these predatory loans with obscene interest rates that enriched college administrators while graduate students taught undergraduate classes for pennies.  When I was a graduate student at UCLA, I taught an undergraduate class.  I was totally unqualified, leaned on watching film and television clips WAY TOO MUCH, and was paid like $100 per week.  Those undergraduate students were paying upwards of $30,000 a year to take classes from a dope like me who would put on an episode of “Frasier” to eat up 30 of the 50 minute class.  These universities robbed people blind and just because you didn’t see robbery in real-time doesn’t give you the right to blame the victims for not being more aware of their surroundings.  (Pretty sure 18 year-old UCLA students probably knew you were too dumb to be teaching them, though.)

I, on the other hand, do have that right and do blame myself.  I don’t deserve this forgiveness.  I went to graduate school at 23 and took out an obscene amount of loans without properly evaluating how that would impact my life going forward.  It’s a decision that I wrestle with on a daily basis because saying you regret going to school is something nobody wants to hear.  But, I think I do regret it.  And I wish that there was more education before “my education” about what carrying loans really means for your future.  And I wish that I would’ve just read a bunch of books about screenwriting instead of being sucked into an unbelievable marketing campaign that made me believe that simply by attending UCLA, I would become a professional screenwriter.  I learned a ton in Westwood, but it’s all about hard work.  I know that now, and I should have known that then.  But I got caught up in the power of “belief” (goddamn shower-brain) and ended up docusigning myself into an adulthood of playing financial catch-up. 

The medium pink shirt is too tight for me to wear because I’ve been eating too many carbs and not doing enough cardio.  I do not deserve this student loan forgiveness, and I regret making the decision to earn an MFA from UCLA. 

Your turn.

OUR WORLD:

It’s a beautiful Friday and I just wrote a pretty angry “My World” section.  So….(awkwardly putting your hands in your pockets and rocking back in forth)…what else is going on?

The NFL starts this weekend and I have some predictions I would like to share about the upcoming season:

  • We’re all going to be annoyed having to watch Thursday Night Football on Amazon Prime.
    • The games usually suck, we know that now, so having to take the extra 9 seconds to find the Amazon app on our Smart TVs is going to really take our anger to the next level.  (How did someone so lazy ever run a marathon?  And, no, that was not a sly way of reminding people that you ran a marathon.)
    • I ran a marathon.
  • The Packers are going to win the NFC and Aaron Rodgers is going to revel in a “Going to the Super Bowl means I was right about Covid”-season.
    • He still wasn’t right about Covid, though.
  • Kyler Murray is going to win the MVP.
    • How do you get paid and somehow become more motivated than before?  Have the entire NFL world call you a lazy dummy and your lead receiver get suspended for 6 games.  I don’t know what has happened to Kyler and the Cardinals late in the season the past two years, but I kinda think it’s just flukey.  I love that he’ll be throwing to fellow former-Sooner Hollywood Brown, the Cardinals will surprise people in a weak NFC, and I think Kingsbury is…don’t say it…actually good at calling offense.  The defense will suck and the Cardinals will lose in the first round of the playoffs, but Kyler’s going off this season.
  • The Bucs will not make the playoffs.
    • This is all a bet on Tom Brady not being great this year.  I think his off-season went like this–he retired with a secret plan to get to the Dolphins.  When the Dolphins thing fell through, and Giselle then found out about the secret plan, she got pissed and left him.  Solo Tom was then alone at home and said, “well, I guess I should just go play football then.”   So he went back to the Bucs without really wanting to go back there, and now he’s a 45 year-old quarterback who only kinda’ wants to be there. 
  • The Carolina Panthers will make the playoffs.
    • Baker Mayfield is significantly better than Sam Darnold, and Christian McCaffery is the best dual-threat running back in the league.  I like the players they have on defense, and they’re in a division with Marcus Mariota, Jameis Winston, and Tom “I guess I’ll play” Brady.  Give me a pissed off Baker in a contract year.
  • This is the last year of the currently-constituted FOX pregame show
    • Terry, Howie, and Jimmy just kinda suck now and this is the year FOX finally realizes that Terry Bradshaw isn’t funny, and Michael Strahan isn’t interesting.  NFL pregame shows, in general, need a total makeover, and I think it starts after this year.  Why not copy the “College Gameday” format and do the shows from tailgates at the biggest games of the week?

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The new Steve Carell show, “The Patient”, on FX. 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

That new movie with The Rock.  We all know it’s going to suck and we need to tell every teenager who’s thinking of buying a ticket not to because it will only encourage more sucky movies being made in the future.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I actually forgot one last NFL prediction for this season….

The Bears will beat the 49ers on opening weekend.

Bears moneyline is currently +250.

K bye.

Mid-30s Partying and Best Shows of the Year

MY WORLD:

The VP of Ops and I hosted a party on Saturday, which meant that we passive aggressively fought most of Friday.  You see, as you steamroll through your thirties, the process of hosting a party goes from “FUN!” to “They’re going to say something about our baseboards!”  Parties quickly double in size due to kids and my guilt complex, and the point of said party becomes less about watching college football, drinking beer and everyone telling me how amazing my brisket is, and more about making sure kids don’t melt down, and convincing your spouse that nobody has noticed any one of the 849 home issues you’re both insecure about (Totally!  Nobody noticed the dirt patches throughout your backyard that could be solved easily if you hired someone, but you refuse because you’re cheap and claim that you’re going to take care of them, but you have no idea how to so you just keep buying whatever product the old guy at the hardware store tells you to but it doesn’t help NOT EVEN CLOSE TO HELPING and you think the next one will but it won’t and you know that but you buy it anyway because you don’t learn from your past and maybe you should hire someone oh wait, that’s right, YOU’D RATHER SPEND MONEY GAMBLING ON COLLEGE FOOTBALL THAN FIXING THE DIRT PATCHES IN YOUR BACKYARD THAT AMANDA AND MIKE ARE DEFINITELY TALKING ABOUT ON THEIR RIDE HOME FROM YOUR STUPID FUCKING “LOOK AT MY DUMB BRISKET” PARTY!!!)

It was a lovely little time!  I honestly just don’t get why I don’t remember the process of preparing for and hosting a party in your mid-thirties (mid? Pal, that 7 means LATE!) So, in an effort to avoid the pitfalls that I cannonball into EVERYTIME I host a party now, I am going to write out what to expect “before the party” and what to expect “during the party”.  I sincerely hope that this roadmap will help all of us navigate the spousal arguments better the next time around:

Before The Party

  • The VP of Ops is going to tell you that she will take care of cleaning the first floor, but that you have to clean the sunroom and bathrooms.  Is this an example of her giving you the worst two rooms to clean? Yes.  Will you say anything about that? No.  However, when you tell her that you will clean both of them after you do all of the shopping and barbecuing/smoking/cooking, she won’t believe you and will be kinda’ pissed at you the whole time she’s cleaning the rest of the first floor.
    • Tip for Next Time:  Clearly, cleaning the sunroom and bathrooms right away would be a quick way to avoid any sort of conflict.  BUUUUUUUUT, since you don’t want to do that because it’s boring and un poco grosso, buy her flowers when you go shopping for all of the food.  Those flowers will buy you at least 4 hours AND if she does actually lash out and get mad, you can point to those because she didn’t get you a present AND THIS IS ALL ABOUT RACKING UP POINTS!!!
  • Your idea of everyone’s kids just taking care of themselves so you can watch football is…um…impossibly stupid.  You and your friends will not be gathered around the television high-fiving about UCLA beating a Bowling Green in front of 8 people at The Rose Bowl (yeah dude, nobody in Illinois cares about UCLA, and even the 8 people in LA that do know that they’re not going anywhere this year or…ever.  But yeah, buy some more expensive Jordan-brand team gear!)  You’ll have the game on when people arrive, but then quickly realize that sitting and watching it will be perceived as rude and lazy (if the shoe fits!)  What you all will be doing is watching each other’s kids in between drink-chugging beers and realizing that what matters to you most now is being your friend’s kids’ favorite uncle.  Is it a competition?  You bet your fucking ass it is.
    • Tip for Next Time:  Pick the 4-hour timeframe to be during a group of games that you don’t really care about because you’re not going to see a snap.  Then, to get ahead in the “which Dad do all of the kids like the most?”-competition, you’re going to need to bring 3 things: 1) Energy 2) Sugar 3) Weird voices.  The plan for next time is to have secret candy giveaways, and while Tootsie Pops have been my typical go-to, lets switch it up and go with little York peppermint patties.  Why?  Because they’re awesome and unique enough that kids may start remembering you as the “Peppermint Patty Daddy” which is a SIIIIIIICK nickname that you’re not pushing, but maybe someone should? (This is a thing of yours, huh?  Just forcing nicknames?  How about “Chubby”?). Finally, you’re gonna need to debut a weird voice for the kids because this deep one you’ve been using is STALE.  So practice the offensive Italian accent thing that you’ve broken out once or twice before.  You’re gonna need more than just yelling for the kids to make you “aaaaaspaghetti and a spicy meatball!”
  • You’re going to attempt to make some food dish in an effort to impress people and distract them from the fact that you have dirt patches in your backyard and you could pay to have fixed but don’t beca—I’ll stop.  And you’re going to feel compelled to invite more people than you should because the worst thing that can happen to you, in life, is for people to see a picture on IG (just write Instagram, loser) and then make some comment to you, like “oh, guess my invite got lost in the mail.”  What this will mean is that you should make much more than you’re originally planning to, but you’re going to push against that because you’re kinda’ cheap and don’t want to spend more money.  When The VP of Ops smartly asks, “are you sure we’re going to have enough food?” your instinctually going to want to roll your eyes and say something douchey like, “it’s not our job to feed their entire extended families too!”  But that’s where you’re wrong.  You see, because of your crippling fear of IG-fueled guilt (JUST WRITE INSTAGRAM INSTEAD OF ‘IG’!  NOBODY CALLS IT ‘IG’) you ARE going to invite too many people.  You are then going to stress about not having enough food for these people right before the party and take that stress out on your dog by yelling “ENOUGH GODDAMNIT!” when she barks like she always does when the Amazon person knocks on the door after dropping the package that The VP of Ops secretly ordered.
    • Tip for Next Time:  Dude, don’t invite that many people.  The stress is not worth it!  THE STRESS IS NOT WORTH IT!  Just be an adult and deal with the guilt of possibly making some people feel left out the way you deal with most things in your life…drinking.  Hey! It’s a party!  Also, these parties now are more about food than they are booze, and people are WAY more inclined to bring booze over because it takes less effort.  So, being the cheapass that you are, buy more food and less booze.  You won’t have to stress out about not having enough food AND it’s kind of a cool move to be able to send people home with Tupperware containers of the incredible food you just made (Hey, you’re not Bobby Flay.  You made a fine brisket on a dumpy smoker.  It was fine.  Cool it.)

During The Party

  • The VP of Ops is going to get just as much praise for the dish that took her 24 minutes to make as you’re going to get for the dish that took you 37 hours to make.  Then you’re going to make incessant references about how annoying it is to try to repair the dirt patches in your backyard, which will bore the ever-living-fuck out of whoever you’re talking to.  Trust me, they’re not thinking to themselves, “I wish Jimmy would talk MORE about these shitty dirt patches in his yard.”  You’ll pour your first BIG BOY IPA in your fancy beer glass because “hey, it’s a party and this is how I like to start my parties.” But then you’ll start to feel bad that you can’t offer every guy a fancy glass for their beer EVENTHOUGH NONE OF THEM CARE AT ALL ABOUT DRINKING BEER OUT OF YOUR FRUITY STEM GLASS.  College football games will be happening and you will not be watching because that’s rude.  Then you’ll check your phone 2 beers in, see that you’ve lost your first batch of bets, and start scrambling to make more bets just to “get back to even.”
    • Tip for Next Time:  Make sure that everyone knows that The VP of Ops didn’t spend as much time making her dish as you did yours.  Will this piss her off? Yeah, but whatever.  Enough is enough, and credit should be given ONLY TO THOSE THAT HAVE EARNED IT!  This does have the potential to spark a little bit of a fight, BUT little comments like, “how long’d you nuke that in the microwave for?” paired with HARD laughter and playful elbows to her ribs is the type of comedy that you cannot pass up.
  • As the “party” rounds into form, you’re going to get a bit insecure about the total lack of kids toys that you have in your house.  So, you’re going to grasp at straws and offer the older kids at the party basically anything you think would entertain them.  Unfortunately, the half-deflated old football and TY stuffed animal that’s NOT a beanie baby, are going to provide about the same enjoyment from them as you get out of eating celery (it’s like eating stringy water.). The kids will then start trying to treat your ratty old dog toys like they’re kids toys, and their parents will pretend they’re not disgusted/horrified.
    • Tip for Next Time:  How about a surprise “presents time” for the kids there?  Not only will the kids be pumped about it, but it will distract the parents from their whisper-level discussion about “those patches in Jimmy’s backyard.”  OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT WHEN YOU LOOK AT A PATCH, THEN BACK TO ME, THEN INTO YOUR WIFE’S EAR!  WHAT ELSE COULD IT BE ABOUT?!?!?!  Go to The Dollar Store (don’t forget, he’s cheap!) and get all the kids a bunch of little stuff, that you wrap up (and bonus present will be if Jimmy wraps it, it’ll look like shit!)  Make sure they all get one of the same thing, so there are no baby street fights where all of a sudden the kid who didn’t get the squirt gun starts to melt down and HOW DID THAT BABY GET A KNIFE?!?!  Next time, let’s have a designated “presents time” to really double down on this effort to become the favorite uncle. 
  • Towards the end of the party, you’re going to grasp for the last chance at a buzz.  You’ll think about mentioning a “nightcap” but then you’ll know that the one wife who already thinks you drink too much is now CERTAIN of it.  So, you’ll restrain yourself (like Gandhi!) and venture into the “beers don’t count because they’re not hard alcohol”-zone.  But you’re not drinking lites, are you?  Of course you’re not.  At this point, you’re digging into the bottom of the cooler for the last of the Double IPAs that you know are down there somewhere.  Unfortunately, the “beers don’t count because they’re not hard alcohol”-zone also means that you will not be reaching another fun buzz-zone.  Instead, you will just be getting fatter, while being basically the same amount of drunk, and making your impending hangover that much worse.  You’ll know this, yet still refuse to mix in a seltzer because that could POTENTIALLY negatively impact the buzz you’re seeking.
    • Tip for Next Time:  Just get a grip, man.

OUR WORLD:

“House of the Dragon” is barely back.  Sunday night’s episode was good enough to keep me interested for next week’s, but I implore all of us (dramatic) to not lower our bars so much as to think of that past episode as awesome.  It was pretty good, but not awesome.  The first two were so insufferably boring that this one did feel like an entirely different show because it had…drumroll….DRAGONS DOING DRAGON THINGS!!! Who woulda thunk it?!?!  It’s cool to see dragons doing dragon things!!! But listen, this show simply isn’t good enough to justify me writing about it EVERY week (oh? And it’s not just because your fat ass is worn out from writing that unnecessarily long My World? Got it!)  This episode was cool, and I’m still in, BUT…Guys, Damon was shot with 5 arrows, dying on the ground and then all of a sudden went into Sprint-Mode-5000 to chop in half the toughest crabman the world has ever seen?  Heh?!  AND…How is any army at this time losing if they’re the side WITH THE GODDAMN FIRE-BREATHING DRAGONS?!?!  If the battle isn’t going well just fly that thing over and POOF!  Burnt! 

“General, we’re losing ground to our opponent.  What strategy adjustment would you suggest?”

“Maybe we could fly that enormous, indestructible fire-breathing dragon over their side?  Cuz like, planes and missiles haven’t been invented yet, and they can only shoot their dumb little arrows so high.  So just, have the fire-breathing dragon fly higher than their little arrows and light all of them on fire.”

Real quick, if you are looking for shows that were worthy of me writing about them every week (but you didn’t because you weren’t watching them during your paternity leave and you were too lazy to write and do your job at the same time?) these are my current “Best Shows of the Year” rankings:

  1. Black Bird:  This is the best show of the year, so far, and the lead guy in it is so attractive that maybe I shouldn’t be married to a girl?
  2. The Bear:  A half-hour show that works great as a dramedy and is as authentic of a Chicago show as I’ve seen. 
  3. Severance:  Really imaginative concept where you cannot predict what will happen next.  It’s a bit on the slow side, but each episode is better than the last.  If you hate your job, this will make you hate it more. 
  4. We Own This City:  Jon Bernthal has officially entered the land of “if that guy’s in it, I’m gonna watch it.” 
  5. The Staircase:  Incredibly well-done, and I guess I’m glad I finished it, but there are scenes of a woman falling down a staircase (not a spoiler) that are so realistic and awful, that I hated watching it at times.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When the weather turns, and the temperature gets low enough to where you can finally turn off your AC and open your windows. 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When the weather turns, and the temperature gets low enough to where you can finally turn off your AC and open your windows, but your wife thinks house burglars have zeroed in on your house so you have to close all of the windows at night and keep blasting the expensive AC even though it’s colder outside than it is inside.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I actually broke even this week on college football!!! I’d like to thank Clemson and Georgia for beating up on Georgia Tech and Oregon like they were supposed to.  And I would like to offer a hearty “Go to Hell” to LSU’s kicker.  I know you’re waiting with baited breath on what my first NFL slate of the year will look like, and that will come soon but…as a teaser….I’m loving the Bears and the points against the “Why are we sure Trey Lance is good?”-Niners.

K bye.

Dragon House Snoozefest & How To Smoke a Brisket JIMMYSTYLE

OUR WORLD:

I know that I’m supposed to wait another day-plus because I originally titled this segment the “48 Hours Later Without Looking Stuff Up on Google”-review, but last night’s episode of “House of the Dragon” was so mind-numbingly slow that I am renaming THIS edition of the segment, “Be More Boring, I Dare You!” 

We all watched that last disappointing season of “Game of Thrones” waiting for stuff to pay off so that we could text our friends things like, “THAT is why we watch this show!”  But when that payoff didn’t come, our collective anger was directed at the writers of the show, (you don’t know their names, do you?  Don’t Google!  NOT ALLOWED TO GOOGLE OR THE SEGMENT IS FOREVER COMPROMISED!) Darren Scott and Lamar Trundleson (not even close).  We all read online about how Darren and Lamar (doubling down on stupid, welcome to Jimmyschair!) had been hired to write the next Star Wars movie, and so they were rushing the end of “Game of Thrones” so they could get to do that.  And for us, that wouldn’t stand!  How dare the two guys who wrote the majority of a series we loved try to parlay that success into getting to helm the most renowned movie franchise of all-time!  After that last episode?  NOT ON OUR WATCH!  So we all got online mad, vilified Darren and Lamar to the point that they got fired from that Star Wars job, and then deified George RR Martin—author of the Game of Thrones book series.  “The series went downhill once RR Martin’s influence waned!” we all chanted from our dumpy bedrooms in our smelly mesh shorts (dude, you’ve had them since freshman year college.  Go spend $17 at Costco for a new pair.)

This chorus for the return of more RR Martin influence reached a crescendo, shortly thereafter, when HBO announced they were making “House of the Dragon” based off his book “Fire & Blood” and that he would be listed as Executive Produce and Creator. (You clearly googled to get that information.  No, we saw you go into the bathroom with your phone and then come out and write that.  CHANGE THE SEGMENT TO “JIMMY GOOGLES IN THE BATHROOM AND THEN PRETENDS HE DOESN’T SO HIS READERS THINK HE’S SMARTER THAN HE IS!”)  So we ignored that this was basically RR Martin’s role on “Game of Thrones” and went about our business forgetting that the last season of GOT uh….sucked…and got ourselves pumped up for “House of the Dragon” by pretending that RR Martin’s involvement was what was missing.

What we all SHOULD have done is ask, “if RR Martin was so great, why didn’t he come up with the idea to make it a show?  And once that idea was brought TO HIM (it was), why didn’t he write the first episode (he didn’t).”  Martin had a deal with the original writers of “Game of Thrones” (you forgot to Google that, didn’t you?) Darren Scott and Lamar Trundleson (yep) that he would write ONE episode of the show per season.  And guess what?  By Season 5, HE COULDN’T EVEN DO THAT!  George RR Martin wrote 4 episodes of “Game of Thrones”.  The series had 73 total episodes (HE’S GOOGLING AGAIN!)

All that information (that you googled and lied about doing so) was conveniently forgotten in the fallout of the “Game of Thrones” final season, and the subsequent build-up to “House of the Dragon”.  I did the same!  I got myself excited about this series because I loved GOT so much, and SORELY missed an event show on Sunday nights (When does Succession come back?) “The Dragon show is gonna be good cuz um, dragons, and it’s based on the book by the guy, and I think the guy is more involved in this one, and um, remember the red wedding?!” was basically how I sold this show to myself in my head (you talk to yourself?)  And now we’re two episodes in, and I’m realizing what I did, what we all did, was go buy a Rolex online…and now we’ve got a “Rolecks” watch that gives your wrist a rash.

I know we all don’t want to give up on this Dragon House show, but we should.  (You said you were giving it 6 episodes!  Does your wife know about all of your lies?!?!)  I know I said I’d give it 6 episodes before throwing in the towel, but I’m making an amendment: for each sucky episode that I do watch, subtract from the number of episodes that I vow to watch.  (That was worded horribly and everybody hates you now and will never read this again.)  Last night’s episode sucked.  Thus, I am now down to 5 total episodes I am committing to watch.  If next week’s episode sucks, I will be down to 4 total episodes, and so on. 

Dragon House is excruciatingly boring in a way that seems damn near impossible considering this is a show ABOUT FIRE-BREATHING FLYING DRAGONS!  We are now two episodes in, more than a full movie-length into this series, and the coolest thing we’ve seen the dragons do is…uh…No, let’s seriously answer that question.  We are 120 minutes into this series, and the coolest thing we’ve seen a dragon do is fly to an almost fight, and sit nearby the standoff until the two sides agree not to fight and to return to where they came from.  That is not an exaggeration.  This is like if you watched “Jurassic Park” and the coolest thing you saw the T-Rex do THE ENTIRE MOVIE was sneeze (he’d sure need a big Kleenex lololololololol).  Much like last week, yes, my main critique is that you have a show about dragons that barely features dragons.

“But Jimmy, they’re building up the anticipation!  Remember, the wait will be worth the reward!” you say?  Well first off, stop yelling at me, The Warden is asleep.  Second, I don’t think the payoff CAN be worth this wait because there is no one in the show that we like yet.  Hey guys, THAT’S A BIG PROBLEMO!  When you’re 120 minutes into a story and there isn’t one character that you’re excited to root for when they show up on screen, that is what we in the business call a GRANDE PROBLEMO!  A payoff worth this wait requires villains to root against and heroes to root for, and I don’t think we really have either yet.  Let’s go through some of the hero suspects:

  • The King: He’s a suburban dad caught in dragon-times who is sad about having killed his wife for a chance to save his son…but then his son also died.  So now he has nominated his daughter to be heir, but he doesn’t seem especially pumped about that.  Oh yeah, and he definitely wants to bang his teenage daughter’s best friend (American Beauty much?)  Plus, we all know he’s going to die because he has infected cuts that maggots can’t cure (shocking!) 
    • “Root-ability” Rating: 3.2
  • Rhaenyra Daughter Girl:  I know we’re supposed to like her, but can she earn that first?  In GOT we loved Arya because she was a total badass.  What has this girl done besides ride a dragon that we already knew liked white-haired girls because we saw that in Game of Thrones already?!?!?
    • “Root-ability” Rating: 3.9
  • The warrior guy who Rhaenyra liked because he has battle experience: Bad sign that we don’t know his name.  Cole something? (Just google it, you’ve already been caught in that lie.)  I do think this is the character I like the most right now because he belittled Daemon in front of everyone by reminding him that he pounded him in their battle.  But…yeah, I don’t even know his name.
    • “Root-ability” Rating: 4.4

How about the villain suspects you ask?

  • Daemon:  Clearly the writers on this show want you to hate this guy, but do you yet?  It’s strange because every time he’s on screen I instinctively know I’m supposed to hate him, but I don’t know why I do.  Yes, he has a hate-able looking face, so that’s a great start.  But, can he do something super awful first?  Remember how much you hated the little boy Prince early on in GOT?  He got the wolf killed!  Can Daemon kill a wolf that we all love before we anoint him as a super villain.  He hasn’t earned it yet.  What he has done is act cocky in a battle tournament, kill a bunch of people that we didn’t know or care about in some random battle scene in the first episode, and…uh…be pissy that Rhaenyra was named heir instead of him.
    • “Hate-ability” Rating: 5.2
  • Father guy who is trying to pimp out his 12 year-old daughter to the king:  Don’t know this guy’s name, but we all know him as the guy with white dreadlocks who’s trying to pimp out his 12 year old daughter to the King.  And while that is most definitely a “hey, not cool, man!”-move, the fact that this is in olden times makes me think it’s not really that messed up.  (Jimmy thinks it’s cool for old men to wed 12 year-olds.  He just put that in writing.) I’m not saying I think it’s cool for old men to wed 12 year-olds, but they did do awful shit like that in olden times.  So, Dreadlock Dad Pimp is kinda, just doing what Dreadlock Daddy’s did back then.
    • “Hate-ability” Rating: 4.1
  • The King’s Hand:  We think he’s on the good guys’ team because he’s the King’s hand, but he looks like a weasel and is mean to his daughter who-BY THE WAY-he is also trying to pimp out to the King!  See!  Just another run-of-the-mill Dad Pimp!
    • “Hate-ability” Rating: 3.6

With no real heroes and no real villains, what possibly payoff is even plausible?  What scene could happen that makes us all forget that the first 120 minutes of this show has included no memorable scenes or characters?  You see, the longer this bore-a-thon goes, the better the payoff scene has to be, and at this point, it already would have to be an electric shock of a scene. 

The only hope I see is this crab guy we caught a glimpse of at the end.  The scenes with the crabs were creepy, and that guy does look pretty terrifying in that mask.  Could he turn into something we all band together in rooting against?  Possibly.  Unfortunately, creating the type of vitriolic hate we would need for a proper payoff moment, would require the writers of this show doing something they have yet to prove capable of: writing an interesting scene.

MY WORLD: 

I’m going to smoke a brisket on Saturday and I’d like to tell you how I’m going to by giving you my steps and recipe for how to do it, and what to expect the rest of your day to look like while doing it.  The ingredients, tools and process-notes you’ll need for the first JIMMYSCHAIR SMOKED BRISKET RECIPE!!!

Ingredients:

  • 12-15lb brisket.  I like to get it from Costco because they’re priced the best (just say ‘cheapest’) and they taste just as good as the expensive ones I’ve gotten from the local butcher (so you don’t support local business.)
  • Yellow Mustard.  Have about a half of a squeeze bottle or just stop being a cheapass and buy a new bottle for this.  Jesus.
  • Kosher Salt.  A lot.
  • Apple juice.
  • Coarse black pepper. Also, a lot.  (Love the precise measurements.)

Tools:

  • Smoker. (How dumb do you think your readers are?)  I use a big offset charcoal smoker.  I use it because I want to pretend I’m an authentic traegers-are-for-clowns-smoker-guy AND because I don’t want to spend what it would cost for a green egg (I’ll take “Cheap white guy things” for $400 please!)
  • Charcoal and Wood chunks.  How much? Uh, like a lot.  I prefer the lump charcoal because it appears more authentic (sound reasoning) and big wood chunks because they burn longer.  What flavor of wood?  I honestly don’t think this really matters so I just go with my heart whenever I’m in the store the day of. 
  • Butcher paper.  This is key and it’s not the easiest to find.  Last time I did a brisket I just asked the butcher at my local grocery store if he had any butcher paper he could spare.  He did, so I used that.  And you are correct, I did just take free butcher paper.
  • A portable cooler.  You know, like the ones you bring to a tailgate.
  • A digital meat thermometer.  One that’ll give you internal and external readings.  Wireless is best so you can sit on your fatass inside for a little while your brisket gets oooooohhhhh sooooo sweatyyyyyy (good lord that was creepy.)
  • An empty spray bottle
  • A towel. (You have to shower with your brisket?!?!)

The Process:

  • Get up at 5:30 AM.  This is serious work and serious work requires an early morning.  Plus, when you’re telling people about your day, it’s going to really impress them if you get started before 6 (they’ll be even more impressed if you’re slurring your speech while telling them all of this).  Get up quietly because this early morning alone time is going to be SO CHOICE.  Make a huge pot of coffee and be really dramatic about how good the coffee grinds smell.  Like, yeah, open the container and smell them and say something like, “ahhhhhhh.”
  • Slather your big, stinky brisket in yellow mustard.  Put some vinyl gloves on for this, otherwise it feels ICKY and Jimmy NO LIKEY ICKY FEELYS (is there a video somewhere of you getting punched? We’d love to see it!)
  • Dump generous amounts of kosher salt and coarse black pepper all over every part of this brisket.  Make sure to get the sides too.  You’re not going to put too much salt or pepper on it.  Do I know this? No, but it’s what I tell myself.  The best part of the brisket is the bark, and you’re not going to have flavorful bark without a dump truck worth of salt and pepper.  (How have you not opened up your own bbq restaurant yet?!?!)
  • Bring a Yeti full of coffee out to your grill area in back.  Hopefully, you can wear a hoodie because hoodie morning weather makes every man about 18% happier.  Have a podcast going.  Look up to the sky, smile and gently shake your head because “God, just doesn’t deserve someone like me.”  Scream at your dog to be quiet.  Chuckle it off when you see your next-door neighbor is outside and just heard you gritted-teeth growl “shut the fuck up!” at your cute dog. 
  • Get your smoker to a stable 225 degrees.  This part is always the part I have a really hard time with, and it takes longer than you want it to.  This is the part that can derail your day.  Put a helmet on, get ready for fucking battle.  Aim low on the temperature.  It’s much easier to get a smoker hotter, than it is to cool it down.  The first time I did this, I got mine up to 300+ degrees and it took like A GODDAMN YEAR to get it back down to 225-250.
  • Before you put your brisket on the actual smoker, make sure your basement fridge is stocked.  Listen here buddy, you’re drinking today.  So go down, and take a look at what you’ve got.  Get yourself excited.  Put on a Huey Lewis song and plan out what time you’re going to crack the first one.  I suggest a lite beer around 10am.  Then think about the afternoon IPAs.  Blow a kiss at your alcohols and tell them that you’ll see them soon. 
  • Get that brisket on the smoker.  You need to get the internal temperature of your brisket to 165 degrees before you take it out and wrap it in butcher paper.  So, put the brisket on fat side up (so the fat drips down or whatever) and plan on about 8ish hours here to get it to 165.
  • Check the time and get kinda pissed that it’s not 10AM yet.  Wonder what to do for the next hour-plus.  Try sitting and enjoying the weather in your backyard.  Stare off into the distance.  Wonder why you don’t have a better job.  Think about the money you wasted on grad school.  Start to hate yourself.  Go inside to eat carbs.
  • Eat carbs.
  • Oh thank god, it’s 10am.  Dive down your basement stairs because it’s faster than running and get a Lite beer out of the fridge.
  • The “I wonder what’s in Jimmy’s red plastic cup at 10:01 AM”-plan is keeping everyone in the dark, so you go outside.   Get the spray bottle and spray your nastyboy piece o’ meat with apple juice (the brisket, right?)  Do this about every hour.  You don’t have to drench it, but this will help keep it moist while also helping…I don’t know bind the bark or something.  Look, I heard this is what you do, so just fucking do it.
  • Go back inside to see that your wife has changed the TV from ‘College Gameday’ on ESPN to some episode of “The Mindy Kaling Show”.  Don’t get mad.  Don’t! 
  • Start to get mad, go to the bathroom, look at yourself in the mirror and say, “Don’t let her know you’re mad because that will start a fight that will last all day.”  Go back outside, and when she asks, “oh, want me to change it back?” Say, “No thanks, it’s so nice out!”
  • Stew.
  • Get more drinks.
  • Once the internal temperature gets to 165, wrap it in butcher paper, and put it back on the smoker (still at 225-250).  You’ll keep it on here until the internal temperature gets to 203 degrees.  Yes, that’s a magic number that has relevance but I don’t remember why so, again, just fucking do it.
  • Think back to how you didn’t get to see Lee Corso put the mascot head on at the end of “College Gameday” because your wife had to watch the Mindy Kaling episode where the guy doesn’t like her that much AGAIN.
  • Stew.
  • When your brisket finally hits that 203 degree internal temperature, take the wrapped brisket off the smoker.  Keeping it wrapped in the butcher paper, now you need to wrap it in a big fluffy towel.  Use your wife’s favorite, softest towel because this brisket is the new love of your life that would never change the channel off College Gameday before Lee Corse put the mascot head on.
  • Wonder which mascot head Lee Corse put on earlier.
  • Wrap the brisket in wife’s favorite towel.
  • Say “no” when your wife asks if you used her towel to wrap the brisket.
  • Now sloppily wrapped in your wife’s amazing favorite towel, place the brisket in the portable cooler where you’ll leave it OVERNIGHT!!!  Yeah, this makes a huge difference—this resting time makes the bark SO much better.
  • Stop drinking.
  • Get another beer.
  • Respond to your wife with only one-word answers.
  • Go to bed.  Don’t say anything about the College Gameday thing.
  • Get back up.  Get another beer.
  • Google “can I watch a replay of College Gameday if I didn’t record it?”
  • Fall asleep on the couch 8 minutes after promising your wife you’d be upstairs in just a few minutes.
  • Wake up hungover on the couch in the clothes you fell asleep in.
  • Your brisket is ready. Eat it.
  • Whatever.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The random weekday rain during the summer giving you the perfect excuse to stay inside and be fat and lazy all day.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Shaving. 

JIMMY GAMBLES:

College football actually starts this THURSDAY!  Last Saturday doesn’t count because it was a weird Ireland game that I couldn’t even gamble on and then a bunch of other bad games.   So, for Thursday’s games, gimme West Virginia (+7.5) at Pitt, Purdue (+3.5) hosting Penn State, and Oklahoma State (-21.5) hosting Central Michigan.  These have no chance!

K bye.

House of the Dragon Review & A Gassy Preview

MY WORLD:

The more I look into my one-month-old daughter’s eyes, the more I catch myself exhaling, looking up to the sky while gently shaking my bulbous head, only to return to her innocent gaze and say, “Dude, are you fucking kidding me?”  She’s not, though.  She’s not kidding because she doesn’t know how to kid, yet.  The Warden IS NOT kidding, she’s just there…like a lump.  This big eyed, lumpy Prison Dictator bats her eyes at me because that’s just what her body does, yet I’m supposed to wax poetic about it every time a stranger or older person or some random gooey parent who wears big, flowy shirts asks me how being a new Dad is.  I’m a good enough writer to tell them the things that will trigger their tear ducts, but I’d rather (do anything else in the world?) tell them about the aspects of early parenting that are PRACTICALLY and TANGIBLY AWESOME. 

The Farting.

We’re not reinventing the wheel here, folks.  When your little baby starts ripping audible farts, it’s not only funny, but it opens up your world of fart comedy (yes, we’ve all felt confined in our fart comedy worlds). 

The other night, as I sadly went to bed before I was drunker than I wanted to be (when’s the candlelight vigil for your buzz?) I exacted the only revenge I’m able to exact on The Warden, by putting her down in what has to be a very uncomfortable bassinet.  You see, it’s kind of the only way I can get her back at her for terrorizing my ability to sleep.  “Oh, so you’re going to get me so tired that I can’t even get a proper buzz?  Well, hope you like sleeping on this paper-thin pad resting on WICKER!” 

As I snickered at her inability to secure a more comfortable sleeping situation, I scrolled Twitter because that’s what you do when you’re INSANELY tired, not buzzed enough, and need sleep.  The VP was doing face stuff in the bathroom (putting on war paint?) and we weren’t talking because it’s the time of day where stories are over.  Nothing is interesting.  Nothing is exciting.  Everything sounds like the static you get when your TV’s signal goes off and you don’t know where the remote is and why has the volume gone up to level one trillion and we’re staying calm, we’re all staying calm because this is nobody’s fault, BUT WHO STOLE AND HID THE FUCKING REMOTE?!?!

What I’m trying to say is, we were ready to go to sleep.  But then…The Warden farted so violently, that there was no possible way to stop ourselves from laughing hysterically.  This fart should have a Vegas residency, that’s how funny it was!  This fart, made us forget how tired we were, how disappointed I was in not being to stay up long enough to secure a proper buzz, how deeply annoyed The VP as to be with my insistence that we not use a pacifier because “then whenever it falls out of her mouth, she just freaks out again”.  (Isn’t a break in the freak out symphony better than no-break in the freak out symphony? WHY IS A CONSTANT FREAKOUT BETTER THAN ONE WITH BREAKS?!?!)

The Warden’s fart healed us.

In our laughter, we are one.

You can eat whatever you want, whenever you want.

New parents enter a judgement-free zone (like Planet Fitness!) that protects them from questions like, “aren’t those chocolate chips meant for baking cookies and not you eating them straight out of the bag at 3:07 PM on a Tuesday?” Or, “isn’t the idea of those low-calorie ice cream bars to substitute your full-on dessert and not act as a dessert appetizer?”  Or, “are you sure that tortilla chips are considered ‘good carbs’ because they’re made from corn?”

Who doesn’t like a fat Dad? (You.  You see yourself getting fatter and hate your-) NOBODY!  EVERYONE LIKES A FAT DAD. 

What’s next?

Parental Leave.

Not working is sweet.  Do I need to explain this? (You wrote it, dude.  At least TRY to make it interesting?)

Taking care of a small human cry-machine isn’t a tropical vacation, but let me offer you this “would you rather?”-scenario:

Would you rather get a call from your boss asking you about some work thing that you’ve put off because it sucks/you hate it

-OR-

Would you rather deal with your Warden scream-crying a mere 19 minutes after drinking a full bottle? 

You take the screamer because you can put the screamer in a rocking swing and say, “just gotta let her cry it out,” and sound like a seasoned parent when saying that.  Try ignoring your boss and telling your spouse that you’re “just gonna let her call it out,” and eventually you’ll be lying to your Dad that you were laid off because of “complicated company stock stuff” when you were actually fired for “ignoring your boss.”

OUR WORLD:

Since today is the day of “this may be a recurring segment on Jimmyschair if I…uh…feel like it later,” let’s start another one in this section, entitled “48 Hours Later Without Looking Stuff Up on Google”-Review.  Why the no looking stuff up on Google thing, you ask? (We didn’t, you just feel the need to justify your laziness).  Because when you’re having a conversation with someone and talking about whether you loved or hated a show/character/storyline, etc. you’re going to remember the aspects that MATTER.  Think of it as a test for these shows or movies.  If something is great, we’re going to remember it 48 hours later without having to go to Google and type “Wait, what was that thing I liked in the show I watched the other night?” (You sure you want the title to be that short?  Why not “48 Hours Later Without Looking Stuff Up on Google While Your Kid Scream Cries in the Background and You Pray That ‘Crying It Out’ is a ”-Review?)

For my first “48 Hours Later Without Looking Stuff Up on Google”-Review, let’s talk about HBO’s first episode of “House of the Dragon”.  If you’re worried about spoilers or a review that leaves you wanting more, yeah, stop reading (lowering expectations really is your go-to, isn’t it?)

“Game of Thrones”, especially in the early seasons, was so intoxicatingly good that it’s fair to compare the early episodes of it’s first spinoff series to the original.  I remember watching the pilot episode for “Game of Thrones,” and sharing a “holy shit, did you see that?” look with my then roommates after the INTRODUCTION.  That’s what I was looking for with this pilot episode.  And you know what? I wanted it within the first five minutes because that’s what “Game of Thrones” did and that’s what almost all  good new shows have to do now.  There’s so much goddamn content out there, that if a show doesn’t shove you up against a wall and scream “LOVE ME!” within the first five minutes, you’re going back to the streaming well. 

48 hours later, I don’t remember the opening of this episode.  (See a doctor?)

What I do remember is a horrifically graphic pregnancy scene that I hate watched through my fingers.  Is that really the kind of scene we need in the first episode of the most widely anticipated series debut of the past few years?  That’s the kind of scene that belongs in the middle of season two, when the show has given you enough “holy shit, did you see that?!”-scenes, that you allow it to torture you with the occasional “holy shit, I wish I never saw that!”-scene.  “House of the Dragon” gave us a scene I wish I could forget as THE climactic scene in the series debut.

I also thought that the two male leads were lacking gravitas.  Sean Bean was the male lead in the original, and is the kind of actor, with the kind of jawline and cool weathered face that you bought him as a legitimate warrior.  These two actors who I couldn’t pick out of a lineup, playing the white-haired leads were about as memorable as the first time I ate a cracker.  “I guess I liked it.  I have had crackers since…”  I can’t remember seeing them in anything else, they both lack any sort of on-screen charisma that makes me excited to see what they’ll do next, and I didn’t really buy that they were the ones leading soldiers during a time period where soldiers were so scary barbaric, I’m pretty sure I’m not the same species as them.  (Correct Jimmy, they were ‘men’ and you are a human who wears floral colored crocs in public).

Isn’t it also confusing that the young girl who is now being groomed to take over the Iron Throne definitely looks EXACTLY like a younger version of the last main girl in “Game of Thrones”?  What was her name?  Pretty dragon-riding girl who slept with Drago?  Danerius? (No chance you spelled that right.)  You know who I’m talking about, and this girl looks like a younger her, and does things the younger her would’ve done, but…guess what….it’s not her!  So, that’s not confusing at all. 

And the dragons.  What about the dragons?!?!  The fucking show is about their house and the coolest thing we see them do in the first episode is cremate a dead mom and her dead newborn?  Who drew that up? 

“Hello ‘House of the Dragon’ writing team.  What do you plan to have the dragons do in the first episode?”—HBO Executive

“We were thinking we could show a team of people hold a screaming woman down while a ‘doctor’ kills her by cutting open her stomach and ripping out her kid who, also dies, but like, a little later.”—House of the Dragon Writer

“Uh, what about the dragons, though?”

“Yeah, we’ll have one of them blow fire on them at the funeral.”

“On who?”

“The dead Mom and baby.”

“But, they’re already dead.”

And that is precisely the moment the writers should have looked at each other and said, “maybe the coolest thing we have our dragons do, in the first ever episode of our show called ‘House of the Dragon’, is not act as a match at a cremation ceremony.”

We’re all going to stick with this show for a while (we are?) because we are in this together and “Game of Thrones” was an incredible series, and so they’ve earned at least us watching 6 episodes of their first spinoff.  But maybe next episode, we could get a dragon dunking a basketball?  SOMETHING?!?!

LETS ALL LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

It’s my favorite time of the year for beer because it’s OKTOBERFEST (Octoberfest?) season!!! Now, there are a billion at the store, but here are some Jimmyschair tips and recos for what to do with these (he’s a professional, folks! Well…was. Wait, yeah, didn’t you quit your job in beer? Yeah, you did! So now you’re just a…drunk!)

Tip: Buy a bunch of them now and let them hang in your beer fridge, or if you don’t have room it’s not the end of the world if these sit at room temp. These kinds of beers will last a good 3-4 months minimum (some, you can stretch to 6) AND their quality doesn’t totally hinge on them being kept cold the whole time. Now, if you can keep beer cold, do it. But, if you’re stuck on space then don’t worry about having these chill in the corner of your basement.

Recos:

-Paulaner “Fest Bier”–they’re “marzen” is good too, but I prefer the one that says “Fest Bier”

-New Glarus “Staghorn”–you can only get this in Wisconsin. If you’re near, it’s worth the drive and do it soon because these usually sell out FAST.

-Half Acre “Lagertown”–best brewery in Chicago and it’s the founder’s favorite beer they make. Convinced yet?

-Sam Adams “Octoberfest”–I’m not even sure I love this beer, but my Dad does so that counts for a bunch of beer points.

-Sierra Nevada “Oktoberfest”–They used to switch up this beer every year where they’d brew it with another VERY OLD German brewery. Now? I’m honestly not sure what they’re doing, but Sierra is a beast and doesn’t miss on this style.

LETS ALL HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

People over 60 who post political memes on Facebook. Hey, Rey, we all know which side of the aisle you’re on and NOBODY wants to join you.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

The PGA Tour championship is this weekend and there’s a staggered scoring system.  What does that mean? That the longer shots you pick, have an even LESS likelihood of breaking through.  (Does that mean you’re finally going to just pick the people you think are ACTUALLY going to win the tournament?) BUT LETS PICK SOME LONGSHOTS ANYWAY!!!  Feed my fat butt Tony Finau, Cameron Young, and Jon Rahm.  (*Disclaimer: Jimmy has not won a golf bet in so long that he literally cannot even remember the last time he did win one.  He keeps saying he enjoys betting on the sport, though, because his guys have been close a few times and ‘close’ to a losers like Jimmy act as reasons to keep picking the same way every single time).

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.

Have you done these fun summer things yet?

OUR WORLD:

I’m going to find out how many days until the local grade school starts back up, and then hang a MASSIVE banner counting down the days from my roof so that all the neighborhood kids are reminded that they have to go back to school in “13, 12, 11…” days.  Now, here’s the thing, I’m not going to do that because I don’t make enough money to buy a very huge banner every day.  BUT! One day, when I’m making the BIG BUCKS, I’d like to think that I’d do that because it would make my group chat laugh and that’s basically the most important thing in the world. (Yep, checks out.)

Unfortunately for them, kids are at the point of summer where it’s all about “back to school” and in the words of 11 year-old me, “ugggghhmmm,” (did you just try to type out the sounds you used to make when you started to cry?  That did NOT land.)  Now, are there kids who, unlike me, actually enjoyed school?  Kids who, unlike me, looked forward to seeing their friends every day?  Kids who, unlike me, had friends who didn’t create a game called “Jimmy rides a bike in front of me while I throw a football at him until I’m able to knock him off the bike”?  Sure, that’s possible.  But I suspect that most kids are dreading every day that moves closer to them having to go back into the buildings that make them learn and be self-conscious about every single action they take.  (But Jimmy, you’re still so self conscious that you refuse to shave your beard because you think it’ll make you look even fatter than you are now.)

Wait…I’m fat?

NOT NOW, JIMMY! (You are, though.  You are fat.) I SAID NOT NOW!

What I’m trying to get to is that I think we’re all entitled to celebrate the fact that we’re no longer kids and, therefore, we ADULTS still have a good amount of summer left!  (Yeah!  Suck it, kids!)  So, what should we do to celebrate the REST of our adult summer? (Adult summer? Like, sex stuff?) Here’s some suggestions from your favorite Old Bitch (Is that your nickname now?) I mean, Old Coach (then why did you write “Old Bitch”?) CAN I JUST WRITE THIS?!  GODDAMNIT!  WHATEVER! 

Here are 5 things you should do before it gets cold:

  • Drink on a boat while wearing something your spouse hates.

-Guys, wear that boxy, short sleeved button down where you leave all of the buttons open and your wife asks, “are you seriously not going to button any of them?”

-Lady women, wear…I don’t know.  Something that either makes your husband uncomfortable because it’s too revealing (Why do you have to know if Justin is going to be on the boat before picking your outfit?)

  • Listen to music that you’re kind of embarrassed that you liked in high school, while grilling with a cigar (yeah, and a drink).

-I’ll be putting my iPhone in a cup (JUST BUY A GODDAMN PORTABLE SPEAKER!) and playing early Fall Out Boy (the songs with the Pete Wentz screamo?  Neighbors will love that!) I’ll also be pretending to like the cigar I’m getting zero buzz off, while drinking a summery clear-drink like a gin and tonic that I AM getting a buzz off of.

  • Go get ice cream during work hours on a weekday.

-I honestly can’t remember the last time I went to an ice cream shop (Ice cream store? Ice cream parlor?  Parlour? Nope.  Impossible.  Moving on.)  It does sound really nice, though.  Right? Also, it’s super American.  Ice cream cones? Come on!  I’m thinking mint chip in a cone, but I won’t lie to you—I can’t remember the last time I had ice cream out of a cone and I’m nervous about the drippage!  (Slob.)

  • Seriously think about how sweet it would be if you were able to put a pool in your backyard and talk, in detail, about how you’d build it out.

-Look dude, you’re never gonna have your own pool.  That purchase is NOT IN THE CARDS FOR YOU, JACK! But, you can talk about how you would set up your backyard yard for a whole pool/outdoor bar set-up.  You know, like the chef guys on Instagram who make awesome sandwich creations on their awesome outdoor kitchen next to their awesome outdoor pool surrounded by their perfectly manicured yard?  (Know what they don’t have, though? A big rusty grill.  So…got ‘em there!)

  • Wake up early on a Saturday to walk to a local coffee shop and, while there, text your neighbor asking if they want anything, but what you’re really doing is letting them know that you’re better at enjoying weekend summer mornings than they are. 

-A super fun/white thing to do is spend way too much money at a coffee shop early on a weekend morning.  We’re talking scones, and coffee drinks, and a croissant!  Maybe another scone!  (A very cool 21 year old named “Cal”  just pulled your pants down in public, called you a small-dicked loser, and then took a crystal clear picture of you with his brand new iPhone.  Cal is actually the head of a fraternity and, suddenly, the entire frat is there now…also taking pictures…and laughing at you…and now they’re sending the picture of you with your pants down to all the girls they know.  You’re going viral.  The picture of 37 year-old you, with your pants around your ankles, holding an $11 Vietnamese coffee and 3 cranberry scones is going VERY viral.) Scone guy!  

MY WORLD:

The VP of Ops and I have a baby now. 

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME: 

“Hacks” on HBOMAX.  I don’t want to put the effort in to remember the last 30-minute show that made me laugh hard, so I’m just going to say I can’t remember a 30-minute show that made me laugh this hard.  It’s funny, well-written, and pretty well acted (but you said the second lead kinda sucked.  You said!)  Watch it and let me know your thoughts on the second lead.

Oh, and Crocs!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME: 

The LIV Golf Tour thing.  I’m going to write more about this sometime soon (what about the baby? Are you going to write about your baby?) but I don’t understand how any of this is good for the golf fan.  For the “it’ll give you more golf to watch!”-crowd, I’d like to ask you this: when is the last time a new format of a sport popped up that you then became a big fan of?  Anyone super into “The Big 3”?  How many times has the XFL failed now?  The PGA Tour, and the format they use, has been around for a hundred years because fans of golf like it.  Good luck to Patrick Reed, though, gonna miss rooting for him!

JIMMY GAMBLES: 

Very exciting news on this front!  My betting partner and I have placed college football and NFL futures bets!  Futures are fun because you can’t lose them immediately.  Also, when your NFL team sucks like mine does (go…uh….bears….) these bets give you something else to root for.  ALSO! (starting another sentence with ‘also’?  The return to this blog is going great!) If you get any of your futures bets right, you can brag about how smart you are, but if you lose, no one will remember when you told them that Kyrie Irving was going to win last year’s “Most Vaccinated”.  Without further ado, here are my three favorite futures bets for NFL/NCAAF:

  1.  Heisman Winner – Jaxson Dart (+6000)
  2.  NFL MVP – Christian McCaffrey (+15000)
  3.  NFL Comeback Player of the Year – MITCHELL DAMN TRUBISKY BABY!!!!

K, bye.

We’ve All Agreed We’re Never Going To The Gym Again

OUR WORLD: 

Yesterday it was announced that Illinois will move into Phase 4 of the “Yeah, whatever” reopening plan this Friday, which means that gyms will be allowed to reopen.  These gyms will be asked to limit capacity and do a bunch of weird shit that probably won’t help much at all, and the penalties for not doing this weird shit will be…nothing because how can you enforce any of this?  What I don’t think the government and gym owners have realized, though, is that conclusions are reached when patterns of behavior are altered.  And Illinoisans, by virtue of the 3 month long “don’t do anything!”-orders, have concluded that paying to go to a gym is a moronic waste of money and we will never do it again.

For people that do value working out and fitness (fuckin’ nerds) the past three months has been about finding other ways to stay in shape and, you know what?  They’re preferable!  While they do have workout equipment and locker rooms, a gym’s primary function is to put you in close proximity with people with who do things that annoy the EVER-LOVING SHIT OUT OF YOU!  Exercise? Yeah, an exercise in self-restraint, maybe.  Such as, “if the guy on the elliptical next to me doesn’t stop FaceTiming with his ex-wife, I will NOT kick the outside of his left knee and explode his leg.  I will NOT do that!  I won’t!”  And then, 6 seconds deeper into his FaceTime marriage counseling session, you reconsider and decide that maybe jail is worth it.

By now, we’ve all learned that we can run outside for free!  That push-ups and bodyweight exercises are effective, even though they may not look as cool as lifting dumbbells in front of a mirror.  You know what you were doing in front of that mirror, right?  (Uh…checking my form.)  Stop it.  You were admiring looking momentarily-yolked while hoping the girl who dates the better-looking, richer, more secure version of yourself, will walk by, catch that same view and…(I don’t know what he’s talking about, honey!  I swear, I go to the gym because they have the specific equipment I need to sculpt my traps!  I don’t even notice other people there, honestly!)

What else have we all been missing about going to the gym?  Well, how can you forget about how relaxing the steam room is, right?  You know, that small room where it’s hard to see but easy to smell?  That room where you walk in after working out with a towel around your waist, praying to LordBabyJesus that Terry “No Towel” Thompson isn’t sitting, spread-eagle next to the only open slot left.  Don’t worry, though, if “No Towel” is taking a day off, there’s sure to be the guy who thinks this room is meant for making new friends!  (I like making friends, though…)  Yeah because my idea of relaxing after a hard workout is sitting in a superhot, smelly room with the uber driver who is known for having “great conversations!”

Please don’t forget about the people who take naps on equipment you’d like to be using in between their 19 sets.  Just ask them if you can hop in for a quick set, right?  Nah, you’re forgetting this is the same person who is ALWAYS “I’m almost done.”

“Oh, so that’s a no?”

“Yeah, that’s a no.  Now please let me get back to my public nap while wearing a dry-fit shirt THANK YOU VERY FUCKIN MUCH!”

Yeah, but the treadmills with the televisions right on the front are really nice to run on, at least!  You’re right!  I especially love when the ONE CHANNEL I want to watch is currently scrambled so instead, I get to watch minor-league softball practice on ESPN3 while trying to figure out how to turn off the closed captioning.  Now, of course, you could simply go to the front desk and tell them that the only channels that aren’t having seizures are the ones showing “Big Bang Theory” and “Alf”, but you’re forgetting that the front desk employee is required to respond to that with a blank “why would I ever care about that?”-stare.  (I miss those stares!) 

And finally, before we decide to never walk into one of these rip-off palaces again, do me a favor and remember how great the Wi-Fi is.  Whenever there’s more than, I don’t know, ONE PERSON IN THE ENTIRE GYM, the Wi-Fi starts to sputter.  So as you’re shaking off the cobwebs from last night’s bender on the creaky elliptical, and juuuuust starting to vibe to that new Weeknd song, it stops and you see the spinny thing next to the little WiFi signal.  “Oh cool, I’ll just switch over to data now and run up my already overpriced phone bill!  JUST WHAT I WAS HOPING TO ACHIEVE ON THIS FUCKING ELLIPTICAL!”

You know that sense of pride and accomplishment you used to have when walking out of the gym?  It wasn’t from having just completed a workout.  It was from not hurting yourself or anyone around you while inside that building for the past 64 minutes.

Gyms re-opening? We’re good, but thanks!

Wait…what do you mean I have to call another number and send a fax and an e-mail and a carrier pigeon with a gimpy wing to cancel my membership?

 

MY WORLD:

Dieting is so fucking frustrating and stupid.  It is.  It is.  IT IS!  I have now gone one full week without eating any carbs, and I’m not back to my wedding weight yet.  And yes, I have been telling myself, “it’s just one week,” and “this has to be a sustained effort,” and “remember how tight last summer’s shorts felt when you tried them on 9 days ago?”  But, last night during an episode of “Ozark”, I saw the kids eating at a greasy hot dog stand, and I immediately stopped paying attention to whatever was happening in the show (Drugs! Guns! Scary!) and just started thinking about how much I love French fries.

Now, even the morning after, as I drink my blandass coffee and prepare for yet another day of zero exciting culinary experiences, French fries are dominating my thought pattern.  It does not help, DOES NOT HELP, that I weighed myself over the weekend and I was back at my initial weight even though I’ve been working out AND HAVEN’T CHEATED ONE GODDAMN TIME ON THIS DIET!  I’m eating fish and vegetables and zero bread or sugar.  I’m drinking water, carbonated water to try and trick myself into thinking it’s soda, white wine, and Michelob Ultras.  I haven’t had a craft beer in nearly 2 weeks now, and I WORK FOR A CRAFT BEER COMPANY.

Meanwhile, it appears that I have reached the age where whenever I run, the next morning I will feel like I was in a car crash.  The morning after walk down wood stairs is so painful that I have thought about crawling or just giving up completely and not leaving my bed ever again, becoming an ever-expanding blobman and telling my job “why? What’s the point anymore?”  I’m 35, not 90, but my morning walks around the house look like I’m trying to recreate a scene from an old monster movie where the monster can’t bend it’s knees and has a permanent pained facial expression.

So since running is so hard on my body now, I do the exercise bike in the basement.  I set up my laptop in front of the cheap bike I bought, and follow along to Peloton classes.  The instructors are normally really in shape which makes me think, “this shit works!”  And while I’m doing them, and sweating like a pigbeast, there’s no way that they’re not going to make me super shredded in no time!  But I swear to god, the second I’m done, and have caught my breath again, this demonic brain parasite flies into my ear and infects me with the “Yeah that was cute, but it wasn’t a run”-echo.  By the time I trudge my fat, sweaty ass back upstairs the coat of sweat may as well serve as a cloak of “yeah, but I didn’t run”-disappointment.

Am I being dramatic about all of this? Of course, but isn’t there enough awful shit going on right now that I shouldn’t have to also sacrifice eating food that makes me instantly happy?  Yeah, there’s the collapsing depression that follows, but what drug is better than a fried potato dipped in sugary red sauce (KETCHUP!)?  Or after a long day of working a job that now feels completely different and one thousand percent harder than it was 3 months ago, I get to treat myself with…the LaCroix of beers?  I swear, I could drink 18 thousand Michelob Ultra’s, and on Ultra number 17,999, while in the ambulance being rushed to the hospital for “wait, he’s drank how many beers?” I’d still be sober enough to know that Michelob Ultra’s taste like spiked, old-man fart water.

So the diet is going great and I can’t wait to attack the day and enjoy my snack of a handful of mixed nuts in a couple hours!

INITIAL “GREAT, NOW I HAVE TO DIET” WEIGHT:  202.6lbs.

LAST WEIGH IN:  I don’t want to put it in writing because if I don’t put it in writing, it’s not real.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

That moment after talking to someone when you’d normally shake hands and now you don’t know what to do so you make some dumb air-five gesture and then want to kill yourself.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

 

K, bye.

Sports Documentaries & Strolls Down Memory Lane

MY/OUR WORLD COMBO: 

Let me get my sea legs back before you start judging me again. Admittedly, I’m very out of writing-shape…

Is becoming obsessed with watching documentaries a natural part of aging?  Are cool 17 year-old dudes who just got home from lifting in their friends’ garage, DURING A FREAKING PANDEMIC, asking their Mom’s to remember to DVR the Lance Armstrong documentary?  (Yes, there are a group of dudes who lift in a garage down my block and…would I be forever honored if they invited me one time? Sure. Is that so wrong?  IS LIFTING WEIGHTS WITH SOME COOL GUYS SO WRONG?!?!) 

Somewhere around the debut of “30 for 30”, or getting married, or realizing that saying I watched a documentary was as close as I could get to saying I read a book, I decided that documentaries were worth more than the average flick.  Maybe there just aren’t a ton of television shows you can watch and then brag about what you “learned” afterward.  “Last night’s Vanderpump Rules really taught me that doing cocaine in your late 30s just makes a person look like a sweaty lunatic.”

Or maybe, the more likely reasoning behind our new documentary obsession, is that it’s fun to relive the parts of your life that were happening parallel to some memorable national or local storyline.  (Is he done with this pseudo-philosophical rant, yet?  I know it’s been a while since he last wrote, but Jesus Christ GET TO THE FUCKING POINT!)  For those like me, constantly looking for a documentary to watch, I’ve got some quick takes on ones I’ve seen recently.  However, because I’m one spicy baby, I’m going to give you an insight into the parts of my life I got to relive while watching said documentary.  Hopefully, this will give you a better appreciation for what The VP of Ops has to deal with.  (What if this makes me really jealous of The VP of Ops, though?  Like, should I tell her how lucky she is to live with such a cerebral individual who pulls off the jeans and sandals look better than a 90s GAP model?!?!) 

THE LAST DANCE: DA MICHAEL JORDAN DOC

We all agree that we don’t need fancy names for documentaries, right?  Like, everyone just calls it “The _________ doc” no matter what the title is, right?  When you were talking to your friends about “The Last Dance”, there’s no way you weren’t just calling it “The Jordan doc” or “The Bulls doc”.  Great.  Just had to establish that.

Every once in a while, a movie or show or documentary comes along where you are POSITIVE it’s going to be great.  (Nacho Libre!)  The first few that come to my mind are: “The Dark Knight”, “The Departed”, and “Old School”.  Once you see the trailer, it’s a LOCK that, that movie is going to be awesome and you’ve already gotten defensive just thinking about anyone who would disagree with you.

That was The Jordan Doc.  Going into it, I was salivating at the thought of The VP saying ANYTHING the least bit critical of this doc.  There could’ve been an episode entitled “The One Where Michael Jordan Talks About How Much He Hates Women From Mississippi” and I would’ve shot The VP my patented “Don’t Say Anything Negative About Michael Jordan”-glare.

Fortunately, there was not an episode centered around Michael Jordan hating where my wife is from. (Phew!) Instead, there was the Michael Jordan version of everything that happened during the most engaging run the NBA has ever seen.  Spare me the takes about what Jordan embellished or, fuck even lied about, because who cares?  We all know what happened.  What we didn’t know was how Jordan’s mind worked while it all happened.  An insight into the mind of the most charismatic athlete of our generation?  Yeah, I guess that sounds FUCKING INCREDIBLE.

And it was.  How do you become the best basketball player of all-time?  When I was a kid, I’d watch Jordan in a game, and then go out into the driveway and shoot, and run towards the hoop like I had a shot in hell of dunking, and then go back inside and tell my parents that what I really needed was his newest pair of shoes if I wanted to play like Mike.  If only I had been able to watch this when I was a kid, I would’ve known that all I had to do was to manipulate any situation into a deeply personal challenge that was worth DYING FOR to overcome.  (Like that time The VP told you that chicken you grilled was “good” but you knew the way she said “good” meant it wasn’t that good?  And then you used that slight to motivate you to open up a Michelin-starred restaurant that you called “Still Think It’s Just “Good” Chicken NOW?!?!?!”)

MEMORY LANE STROLL DURING THIS DOC:

The most exciting time in my life was when Jordan began practicing with the Bulls again after his first retirement.  He hadn’t decided to come back yet, but there were news reports everyday about how his car was parked in the Bulls parking lot, and how he was practicing with the team.

I remember I’d run upstairs so I could watch the local news talk about this possible Jordan return on my shitty antenna TV.  When the TV would get fuzzy, I’d gently adjust the rabbit ears while saying prayers to God that sounded something like, “Dear God, please let me see Alison Rosati throw it to the Channel 5 field reporter standing in front of the Bulls practice facility!”  Every 5PM local news felt like a potential Christmas morning where the best present EVER was possibly under the tree.

Finally, that present came in the form of a fax that said “I’m back.”  Even now, the thought of those words makes me want to wake up jump on my bed and wake up my smelly wife while yelling “He’s back!!!!”

LANCE:  DA LANCE ARMSTRONG DOC

This followed up the Jordan doc in ESPN’s “Is This a 30 for 30?” doc-series, and I went in ready to dunk on anyone who wasn’t a Lance fan going into it.  Pre-conceived notions are the best!  (Try singing Aerosmith’s “Sweet Emotion” but substitute “Preeeeeee-conceived notions” because that’s just what I did and I want you to UNDERSTAND MY LIFE!)  A guy raised hundreds of millions of dollars for cancer research and inspired generations of people with the scariest disease you can get, but we have to hate him because he lied about taking drugs in a sport where…everyone lied about taking drugs?  What was I missing?  (Nothing.  You never miss anything, Jimmy.  You’re so smart and aware.)

And then…this thing happened where I watched the documentary and started having these “Uh oh”-thoughts. Like, when his first coach was talking about how much of a dick Lance was.  Or, when he left his first wife pretty soon after they had their first kid.  Or, when multiple teammates of his talked about how they were never given a chance to compete because everything was about supporting Lance.  Or, when his former team trainer talked about how Lance tried to ruin her life for telling a story about how she saw him use ‘roids… And “Uh oh, Lance is kind of a dick.”

Thankfully, I watched this alone, so I didn’t have to defend my Preeeeee-conceiveeeeeed notions.  If, like me, you think that overcoming cancer, raising HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS of dollars in cancer research (HUNDREDS!), and inspiring countless people who are fighting CANCER(!), gives you a free pass to act however you want in all other areas of your life, this doc puts that to the test!  I still think that the good heavily outweighs the bad with Mr. BikeMan, but get ready to cringe a few times and look over your shoulder scared someone is going to ask, “you still think that guy is a good guy?”

MEMORY LANE STROLL DURING THIS DOC:

Who didn’t have a Livestrong bracelet?  I remember the Livestrong bracelet led to a SERIES of unfortunate jewelry choices on my part.  I felt so cool and good about the yellow band, that I thought, “what’s better than one rubber band?” So I started wearing like 5…on each wrist…Then, THAT snowballed when I saw the lead singer of Coldplay wearing like 200 thin bands around his wrists.  (No Jimmy…don’t say that you…)  So I bought the exact bands Chris Martin was wearing and wore like 100 little bands around my wrists for a while! Like, more than a month!

Here’s a piece of advice that I wish ANYONE IN MY LIFE had given me when I was going through the “wear as much shit around your wrists”-phase of my life: Just because one of the biggest rockstars in the world looks cool in something, doesn’t mean YOU will cool in that same thing.  Especially when you’re a waiter who hasn’t had a girlfriend in over 4 years.

YIIIIIIIIKES!

LONG GONE SUMMER:  DA MARK MCGWIRE AND SAMMY SOSA DOC

I’m not going to lie to you because that’s the thing you write before you say something that’s somewhat revealing and/or surprising: I watched like 7 minutes of this doc.  (Honey?  Today’s Jimmyschair has a review about a documentary he hasn’t even really watched.  Make sure you don’t miss it!)  Unlike the Jordan doc, Da Sosa Doc had the feel of a surefire terrible movie from the start.  Like, you saw the trailer and thought you were in because that was a fun baseball summer, but then you woke up sweaty later that night and yelled, “I BET THEY’RE NOT EVEN GOING TO TALK ABOUT STEROIDS THAT MUCH!!!”

And from everything that I heard, they didn’t, and it sucked, and I’m happy I didn’t try to convince The VP that it would actually be good.  (What’s worse than standing up for a movie that your spouse doesn’t want to watch, only to have it be horrible?)  In case you haven’t heard similar things, now is when I suggest you listen to me and SKIP THIS DOC!

MEMORY LANE STROLL DURING THIS DOC:

The only Cubs game my Mom brought me to where it was just her and I, was during this home run derby summer.  She brought me to the game where Sosa hit his 60th homer (I think? Don’t google it and point out that he hit his 60th on the road or something…JUST GO WITH THIS)  If it wasn’t his 60th, it was somewhere around there because Wrigley went absolutely BONKERS when he hit it.  One of those few times I remember being at Wrigley and having a great time BEFORE booze was involved in these trips.

After watching an entire Cubs game in Wrigley SOBER (should a documentary be made about me?) my Mom and I got onto the train home and ended up sitting across from my little brother’s Godfather, Kevin.  What I didn’t know at the time is that Kevin was enjoying this game in the A.B. column and Kevin was BLITZED OUT OF HIS MIND on this train.  I remember wondering why his face and eyes were so red and why he couldn’t really talk.  My Mom covered it up pretty well because I didn’t think about him being hammered until recently, when I realized that almost everyone over the age of 19 leaves Wrigley not being able to walk or talk.

And now that a lot of my friends have kids, and I still don’t, I’m thinking that I may be on the Kevin path…Where my friends’ wife is going to have to lie to her kids about why Uncle Jimmy couldn’t talk that one time they saw him on the train.  Please, just tell your kids “he’s had a hard life.  Give him a break.”

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you cook chicken breast and it actually doesn’t taste like the most bland bullshit ever.  We used some Trader Joe’s rub on chicken breasts last night because I’ve gotten PUDGY and I didn’t hate them!  But, you know what I do hate?

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

That thing that I just wrote about the chicken breasts.  Jesus Christ was that boring and lame AND I HAVE NO PERSONALITY ANYMORE NOW THAT I LIVE IN THE SUBURBS.  I LIVE A LIFE OF BLAH!!!!!!

HERE’S A SONG I LIKE: