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

MY WORLD:

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

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

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

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

Car slappers

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

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

The get-away-from-me shirt

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

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

The fart silencer

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

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

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

The Sober-Now Pill

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

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

OUR WORLD:

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

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

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

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

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

K bye.

Being Single Stunk and Haircut Anarchy (4/24/18)

OUR WORLD:

The VP of Ops was out of town most of last week, got back on Sunday and left again this morning for the next 3 days. I have officially left the “being alone is fun!” phase of her being gone, and entered the “well, who’s gonna listen to me bitch about my day?” phase of missing her. Call me a romantic, but getting to whine about relatively benign daily happenings to someone who is GUARANTEED to agree with you is one of the main advantages of being married. Actually, part of my vows alluded to this when I wrote: “I promise never to spare you a detail of the times when an older woman will inadvertently cut me off in traffic. I promise to assign said woman some malicious motive that I fully expect you to agree with when I recount the story to you later that night.” Guys, I’m like so kidding about having written vows–we’re not those kinda’ weirdos. It’s called a joke!

Which is a long winded way of me saying that I do not miss being single. For those who are good at it, congratulations; you won’t enjoy the rest of today’s “Our World”. You live in a world that I am not a part of, if you’re good at being single. For me, and I believe many of us, the world of being single sucks, and here are the parts that suck the most:

Feeling compelled to talk to strangers at bars: Obviously, I can only speak to this from a guy’s perspective, but going to bars while single and hoping to meet a future LOVAH! is a terrifying prospect. What happens is you stand around with your friends trying to not look like you’re scoping everyone out, but you are and it’s SUPER obvious when you keep missing the straw to your vodka soda (you are watching cals BIG TIME when single). There will be the mega babes who are WAY out of your league, but you’ll spend about 9 minutes trying to come up with a snappy one-liner to level the playing field. Something along the lines of “hey…uh…getting to date you would make my dad real proud of me.” Unfortunately, Babe-a-tron 5000 doesn’t know how reluctant your dad is to offer praise, so that’s gonna be a swing and a miss.

What’ll happen most of the time, is that you’ll just stand around your dumb friends, not approaching ANYONE of the opposite sex. Instead, opting to just get progressively drunker until somebody gets a text from a girl they know that is at another bar. “She have friends?!?!? HAS TO, RIGHT?!?” Is what you’ll be thinking, but you’ve gotta play it cool, so you’ll act like “sure, guess I’ll go with you.” Then you’ll get to the next bar, realize that the girl does have friends, but those friends are not impressed with sarcasm OR outfits from Old Navy’s Spring, 2011 collection. It’s okay, though, because by this time you’re drunk-STARVING and ready to eat your feelings away. THEIR LOSS!

Having to explain to your grandparents why you’re not married with kids yet: I swear to god, once you hit the age of 22, all grandparents expect you to be married with a kid on the way. Old days were a wild time, during which, I guess everyone was married with 3 kids and a big house by the time they were able to rent a car? That’s the way they friggin’ act at least. Every family dinner when you’re single will include the “why are you still single?”-portion of the meal with your grandparents quizzing you on what exactly is going wrong. It’ll usually be a potential critique wrapped in a compliment, like: “You’re a handsome, smart kid, you should have no problem finding someone.” Unfortunately, when you’re single and, therefore insecure, that sounds more like: “The problem must be your personality.” Seriously, how are you supposed to respond to that? “Well thanks Grandpa, but I do have problems finding someone because I’m now out of college and approaching women in bars, or grocery stores, or gyms makes me so scared that I literally think about KILLING MYSELF!” WARNING: Grandparents do not find humor in suicide jokes.

Playing the 3rd Wheel: The main reason that playing the third wheel sucks is that you’re almost like the unpaid entertainment for the couple that night. I always felt the need to go a little harder, be a little funnier, be a little extra-er when I was the third wheel. Like, the couple had to be thinking: “if Jimmy bores us at any point in the night, we can just bail.” Your couple friends will ALWAYS assure you that “you’re NOT the third wheel,” but…uh…you are because you’re the third person there and your pants are a little tighter than normal because you ate a big sandwich for lunch so you feel ROUND, LIKE A WHEEL!

Then will come the part of the night where you’ll kinda’ glance at someone across the bar and the couple you’re with will see this, and convince you that you NEED to approach this person. Funny how everyone in a relationship IMMEDIATELY forgets how much of a no-go that proposition is when you’re single. They’ll give you a “what’s the worst that could happen?” or “I think she just looked at you, too.” They’re lying. Trust me, they’re lying about this 100% of the time. All they want is some free entertainment; getting to watch someone strike out with a potential mate IN PERSON is something I would pay to see. In fact, there should be a viewing section at the biggest single bars in the city. Wouldn’t you pay to go to one of these massive, DJ-booth, single meat markets, and sit in like in the security camera room? They could have a charismatic storyteller, narrating the pick-up attempts going on throughout the club, and you could just watch it and be thankful that it’s no longer you as the star of this horror-show? There really should be a channel called “Single People in a Club” which just shows security-cam footage of clubs around the country on Friday and Saturday nights. I’d vote for someone like Hannibal Burress to narrate the scenes (I really wanted to say Louis C.K. for the narrator but…like…he can’t come back yet, huh? We sure? Okay. Okay!)

MY WORLD:

I know today is supposed to be the “A Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The VP of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable”, but since I’m not an ABSOLUTE monster with endless stories of me pissing off my wife, I’m going to write about the haircut I got on Sunday. (Calm down! Calm down! YOU CAN’T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT!)

As you know by now, I get my hair cut at a salon because I am a fancy boy who likes STYLE! Or, mostly because I want to get my head massaged by a professional head massager person. So I’ve been going to this hip place called “Fringe” for the past couple years where I may be the only male client. (I’m sure this isn’t true, but anytime I’m in there, I’m the only guy there so…maybe it is true? YOU DON’T KNOW!) Now, I only get my haircut like 2 to 3 times a year because I’m lazy and try to convince myself that I can pull off long hair a couple times throughout the year. Normally, around like month 3 post-haircut The VP of Ops will toss a “your hair!” my way one morning when I wake up with especially sexy bed head (sexy or, as The VP would put it “gross and not sexy in the least). So I’ll wait another few weeks before the VPs jabs start to actually hurt and then, finally, make an appointment.

For the past 2-3 years I had been getting my haircut by this girl named Tori at Fringe. She was good, not great, but whatever, I wasn’t that picky. Until last time when Tori wasn’t available, but it being a hair-emergency, so I just went with whoever was available. A woman named Leah was assigned to my mangy head, and lemme tell ya’, WE CONNECTED! She gave a top-notch head massage while washing my hair (during which I made a joke about how close to purring I was that she took in stride and even gave me a courtesy laugh for!) She then gave me a killer haircut and was just a DELIGHT to converse with. Not too much talking, but enough that I didn’t feel drown in any awkward silences. I left thinking about two words in regards to Tori: SHE GONE!

After wearing a hat for most of the past 2 months, I finally made a second appointment with Leah this past Sunday. Unfortunately, I did not plan ahead and ask if Tori was going to be there. So when I walked in to “Fringe” and Tori was sitting at the reception desk, I had to make a split-second decision. “Hey!!! Our system is down, so I didn’t know you were coming in!” said an excited Tori. To which I responded, “Yeah, my name is Jimmy and I’m here for a 12:30 with Leah.” My split second decision was to act like I had no idea who Tori was. I barely made eye contact with her as she responded: “Oh, okay…yeah, I didn’t know who you were with.” It’s one of the coldest, meanest things I think I’ve ever done.

She went and got Leah, and a funny thing happened; I didn’t feel a thing. I was expecting to be knocked over with a wave of guilt but, instead, I felt nothing. It was exhilarating in the darkest of ways. This must be what the Joker felt the first time he upset the established order. As I passed Tori on my way to get my hair washed, I almost wanted to whisper in her ear “I’m an agent of chaos.”

Does this mean that Joker Jimmy is a newly discovered side of my personality worth exploring further? That the weird-astrology people were right when they take about Gemini’s having split personalities? Quite possibly. Tori’s heartbreak at not getting to cut a relative stranger’s hair (me) was a sacrifice necessary for me to find my inner darkness. A darkness that could lead to me never settling on one hair-cutter person for fear of an awkward interaction. A darkness that could lead me to finding the perfect hair-cutter person; one who would be able to give me the volume and shape necessary to hide my thinning crown. A darkness that could put an end to me having to use a blow-dryer. As Tori watched Leah cut my hair from afar, she must have felt the thing about chaos…fear. And maybe that fear that she’s not good enough, will drive her to become a better hair-cutter person. You’re welcome, Tori.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Me in the salon on Sunday…

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Anyone watch Ariana on “Vanderpump Rules” last night? She got mad at Tom for leaving to hang out with Jax after the break-up because she wants Tom to “commit” to her being first in her life. HOWEVER, she still refuses to even consider marrying Tom. Get out Ariana, nobody likes you.

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

Well, Russ Westbrook proved that I’m stupid. That’s fun. Thankfully, I did also bet on Houston last night, so it wasn’t a total wash. For tonight, I like Miami (+10), the Milwaukee moneyline and San Antonio (+11.5). 10 and 11.5 are a lot of points for teams that play hard and have proud vets, and Milwaukee seems to have figured out how to beat Boston. BANK OPEN?!?! YOU BETCHA!

(My account currently at $180.40)

K bye.

Do I Still Like Doing These Things? (4/13/18)

MY WORLD:

It’s a mothafuckin’ Friday y’all!!! TIME TO GET WILD! Seriously, we made it through the week and if you’re not blowing it out in your own way tonight, then get to steppin’, cuz this is a blow-out only crew here at this blog (I really have no idea what I just wrote but it had some rhythm so I just went with it.) As Friday rolls in like the gramma who used to give you too much candy, I started thinking about what I was going to do tonight and I came to the realization that there are “fun things” that I try to convince myself that I still like to do…when I’ve actually…maybe…grown out of them. (JIMMY NO! DON’T ADMIT IT!!! THEY’RE WATCHING!!!!)

I don’t want to be the “I’m so old”-guy because, if you’re under the age of 40, and pulling that shit, you’re obnoxious and have ZERO self-awareness. Ever in a room with actual middle-aged people, and some trying-too-hard-to-sound-mature 27 year old talks about how “old” they feel now because they cooked dinner one time last week? Can these people be sent to the smelliest trash dump to live forever? (Had to get that out because the following may have echoes of this sentiment…) Since I don’t think these are as universal as some of my other lists, I would like to present the first installment of a new Friday staple…”Things I Try To Convince Myself That I Still Like.” Does age have something to do with this list? I’M NOT OLD OKAY! I’M NOT THAT GUY! Today’s subject…

Concerts: Earlier this week, I told The VP of Ops that we were “due to go to a concert.” It was a cool-husband thing to say on a Tuesday night that I didn’t really think would go any further than that. Like, I heard a live version of a song we liked on the radio and my mouth just farted that out. When we got home, I checked out upcoming Chicagoland concerts on the internet because I was bored and had already gone through Instagram like 94 times that day.

There were bands that we both like playing for cheap ticket prices and…I couldn’t pull the trigger. Why? Because they were on a weeknight or months away and all I could think about was how tired I would be during the week or how much I was going to have to spend on beer. (YOU DO NOT SOUND LIKE A FUN PERSON, JIMMY!) Am I the only one who thinks “yeah, but what if we buy tickets for this Friday night show that’s not for 3 months, and then our favorite couple decides to throw a house party that night and we can’t go cuz we’re too busy spending $14 on Corona Lights”?!?! Then! Our favorite couple is gonna be all “you know, we got to know Lonny and Bonny that Friday night you guys weren’t there, and we have reached the conclusion that their value system is more closely aligned to ours, so you and The VP have been replaced as the first couple to invite to double dates.” Next thing we know, we’re on a friendship app trying to find a good looking couple to double date with, hoping that if we take enough “look how much fun we’re having!”-pics our old fave-couple will get jealous and call us back. JUST CALL US BACK!

And if there’s a show on a weeknight? FUGGETABOWDIT! The VP came home a few months back, on a Monday, saying that she got us free tickets to LCD Soundsystem. I was supposed to be excited, I know. A cool hipstery band, that I could brag about seeing live to my cooler friends. But…it was Monday and lil’ JimJim was sleepy ti ti and just wanted to watch “Vanderpump Rules” and not rub arms with a sweaty stranger who LOVES dancing in crowded areas. (God I sound like a curmudgeon). We ended up going because we were both like “well, we can’t NOT go,” but neither of us were excited to be there. We sipped on INSANELY expensive beers, stood in the back and kinda swayed along to a few songs while silently praying that the other one would turn around and say “can we go?” That game of chicken lasted for about 8 songs. I broke, and The VP was so happy to nod her head and sprint out of the crowded sauna of a concert venue with me.

Now, obviously, there are still those bands for everyone that can overcome these lame-ass tendencies. Those bands for me include (off the top of me old head–said in a Irishy accent): Dave Matthews Band, Queens of the Stone Age, Death Cab for Cutie, Pearl Jam, Radiohead and….maybe Garth Brooks cuz that does sound like a real hoot. You’ll notice that there are no hip-hop crews (crews? acts? artists?) and that’s because the last weeknight concert I got TWISTED at was a Kanye West concert (That’s right, Kanye West. Ever heard of him? Someone texted me “ever heard of it?” yesterday and I remembered how AWESOME of a burn that is so I’ve been using it non-stop since.) Looking back, I believe this experience not only turned me off to hip hop shows, but it scarred me so bad about weeknight concerts that I’ve never been able to enjoy one since…

The VP and I were late in year 1 of our relash (cool shorthand for relationship) and I had bought us Kanye tix months prior. We both worked 9-5 office jobs, but were cool enough to not even hesitate about a Tuesday night rap concert (any other white people feel very self-conscious when saying the term “rap concert”? Just me?) We met for a beer after work like they do in the movies and talked about whether we were wearing cool enough clothes for Kanye. I was. She wasn’t. Classic us.

We got to our seats at the big arena just in time for the opening act, a cool girl singer person who I can’t remember now…wait…I’m thinking…nope, not getting it. Anyway, she was cool and has become a pretty big star since so, no bigs, we saw her before she blew up. The VP and I had perfected our beer trips to where we were like a relay race team that didn’t have to look at each other when handing off the baton. By the time Kanye took the stage, we were SAUCED and HAVING A TIME!

There were some bro-y in-a-perfect-amount guys next to us and they were our new friends. Mouthing words to each other; me not getting insecure that they might be hitting on The VP; having minor dance-offs in the row; you know, those type of concert friends. The sound quality wasn’t great, but it didn’t matter cuz that bass was THUMPIN’ and no one had pointed out that I didn’t know what to do with my hands. (I was basically waiting for all the lights to go down, except one spotlight on my hands and have the PA Announcer start yelling at me to “figure out if they’re staying in your pockets or not!”)

Later in the second half of the Kanye’s RAP CONCERT, our bro-y friends offered us a pill–like a aderrall thing. The VP actually takes 2 of those bad boys everyday cuz she’s NUTS without them, but I had never partaken. I politely declined because I was scared, but 7 minutes later The VP took one for herself–cuz of health reasons! and she offered me one again…(HYPOTHETICALLY!)…I took it this time because I was still in the “watch how cool I can be”-phase with The VP. Guys, it wakes you up like big-time! And guess what that means when you’re 27? YOU CAN KEEP DRINKING! Which I did…until like 6 in the morning.

The party continued from the concert to a nearby bar to VPs shitty apartment to “oh my god, the sun is coming up.” We fell asleep for about an hour before I woke up in a half-drunken panic (was probably more like three quarters-drunken panic). I didn’t have time to get back to my apartment and get to work on time, and I was still new enough at the job that I didn’t feel comfortable calling in sick. No time for a shower either, guys. It was near Christmas-time and, thankfully, The VPs mom had given my present to The VP a few weeks earlier. “It’s a shirt, open it.” Christmas time came early for this drunken mess, so I tore open the “present” and THANK GOD it was a business-ish button down. Threw it on and I was off. Suicide was a legitimate option on the crowded train ride downtown.

My plan was to slink into the office like a real slink, and hide at my desk with headphones in for 8 hours of HELL. I’d probably throw a cough or two in there to plant the “I bet he’s sick, so I should stay away”-seed in my co-workers brains. Unfortch, about 42 seconds after slinking into my chair like a real slink, my pod-mate came out of the clouds with a COMPLETELY UNEXPECTED QUESTION. “So how was the Kanye show?” Not remembering to stick to the plan, I spun around in my chair and, before I could answer, she panic-blurted “Oh my god are you okay?!?!?” Evidently, I did not look well.

The rest of that day was just as you’re imagining. Shakes, sweats, bosses who just don’t understand and a king-size lunch that couldn’t come close to making me feel better. The VP told me that she…well, actually The VP still works at this place and so…uh…she didn’t do any of the things I did the night before. She was all “Jimmy, maybe take it easy? We have work tomorrow and I value my job because my bosses care about me and I care about them!” Wow, what a dedicated worker! VP!

Long story short, that is what a weeknight concert means to me now; having a legitimately concerned co-worker ask if I’m okay the next morning. Either that, or I’m sleepy and lucky enough to stand next to the sweaty guy with hairy shoulders who decided a tank-top was a MUST-WEAR for this winter concert.

So, like, yeah I don’t really like concerts much now…but I’ll totally still go if you have an extra ticket.

OUR WORLD:

It’s Friday and it’s warm out in Chicago. Drink a margarita, wear your sunglasses and DO NOT talk about next week’s forecast.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This is my fave Kanye song I think…

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This was me the morning after the Kanye show.

when-youre-at-work-hungover-af-trying-to-act-like-20092616.png

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

I’m not going to lie, I haven’t been gambling and I haven’t felt the urge because I’ve been BUSY LIVING LIFE GUYS! Jk, I’ve been busy doing shit I don’t really want to do and haven’t had time to do what I LOVE…which is gamble. I’ll get back into it this weekend. Also, The VP is out of town at the end of next week which means…a storm is comin’.

(My account currently at $256.83)

K bye.

Restaurant Rules Pt. 2

OUR WORLD:

Hungover, poor and outrageously jealous of my friends with credit card points was me as a restaurant worker. Squeezing that hostility into t-shirts that were 1.5 sizes too small (had to show off the guns) and you had what those in the biz like to call a “problem”. Looking back at my time as a restaurant worker, it’s amazing there was never a choking incident involving me either as the aggressor or victim. You know what my favorite thing to do was? Tell customers “no”. I’m not even kidding. Like, if someone asked “do you have a tomato vodka pasta sauce?” I would just say “no,” and just let the waiting-for-an-alternative-suggestion-silence devour their whole world. I could feel them squirm waiting for me to break the silence, but THAT. WAS. NOT. COMING. It was a Buffalo Bill type tendency that makes me worry about what else I’m capable of…madness…yes, madness….WHAT A FUCKING DICK I WAS! (You still are Jimmy and everyone will find out and stop being friends with you and you’ll go crawling back to that restaurant begging to sweep the floors. From, The Woman you abandoned in awkward silence until her brain melted from the stress of it all, just because it felt good to respond “no” when she asked if you “had any gluten free homemade noodles?”)

These confessions will sound even more insane after I tell you that…I GOT PROMOTED MULTIPLE TIMES IN MULTIPLE RESTAURANTS!!! That’s right, the lunatic in the tiny tee who got off on disappointing customers without explanation MOVED. UP. THE LADDER. (This is the part where my head tells me that I should remind the readers that I’m a Sensei in the art of exaggeration but…I’m not really exaggerati-SHIT!) You want to know the real reason I’m telling you my deepest darkest restaurant secrets, though? A) Because I don’t work there anymore and like…{valley-girl voice} whatever! B) Because I wanted to establish a common ground with restaurant workers before I give my…—

“WHAT NOT TO DO” FOR RESTAURANT WORKERS

-When you see a customer trying to get your attention out of the corner of your eye, don’t pretend you didn’t see them and then act busier than you are.

Again, a go-to move for Tiny Tee Jimmy (The VP’s friend made fun of my small restaurant shirts when we started dating and I can never shake it now). This move is absolutely infuriating because WE KNOW YOU CAN SEE US! How many times have you sat at a cleared table waiting to get the check only to have your server walk past you a billion times pretending not to see your “excuse me, sir”-face? Or, how about the times you realize you don’t have a salt shaker on your table only after your food is dropped? Sure, the dish may not need salt, but you gotta dump some on it just for ritual’s sake and THE SERVER KEEPS IGNORING MY FINGER GUN/PINKY UP/AHEM-MISS? MOVE!!!! GODDAMNIT! I think servers do this because they’re procrastinators hoping that work will just disappear.

-Don’t shrug your shoulders when people ask you which dish is better.

Look, even if you don’t have a strong opinion either way, just lie to me and tell me that the pesto is WAY better than the alfredo (cuz it always is…lay off fatsos, alfredo is cream with salt.) I’ll never understand why some servers get awkwardly shy when asked to help a customer decide between two dishes. Some act like there are chickens and cows with guns waiting for them in the kitchen; “I heard you say the chicken picatta was better than the strip steak. So now I get to watch my wife get ripped from my arms and thrown onto a searing-hot pan,” said Chicken Charlie, as he turned his glock from Server Sally back unto himself, “I’m on my way sweetie….”

Unless you’re faced with cleaning widower chicken brains off your kitchen’s walls, maybe just give the customer a teeny tiny bit more confidence in their dinner order. Also, if you give no answer to a customer looking for an opinion, all you’re doing is creating an awkward silence at the table and, therefore, causing you to spend more time dealing with people you don’t really want to be dealing with in the first place. When I was a server, I would sometimes tell people I didn’t like items just to make them think I was trustworthy. They’d ask, “how’s the shrimp?” and I would tell them “it’s not my favorite” even though it sometimes was. Why? Because when you give someone an unexpectedly honest seeming answer, they IMMEDIATELY think they can trust you…(and now I feel like a sociopath for admitting I think that…)

-Don’t get defensive when your table asks why their food is taking longer than it should.

This is simple if you get ahead of the issue. You know if food is taking too long to come out. What is so hard about going up to a table and saying “hey guys, I’m sorry your food has been taking a while, but our kitchen is backed up and now I’m gonna tell you a lie about our computer system fucking things up because we all kinda’ hate technology.”? You immediately get in front of the awkward interaction that begins with a table asking “what is taking so long?” Even if it is your fault, blame it on some asshole in the kitchen that the table is never gonna meet. Odds are that the table will appreciate how forthright you just were and will feel bad that you have to deal with Donnie’s kitchen bullshit.

Or, you can get defensive when a guy asks you why the turkey sandwich and egg dish that he and his wife ordered is taking over 40 minutes (weird…the exact thing happened to The VP of Ops and I this past Sunday…) Then you’ll get a–dammit, you’ll still get a 15% tip because I felt guilty but you totally didn’t deserve even 15% and I want you (yeah you, the professional eye-roller) to know that I’m normally a 25% tipper. So, enjoy being 10% poorer than you should be (that’s how math works, jerk.)

-Don’t pour my drink into a glass right in front of me like I don’t know how to do it.

Does anyone enjoy watching a server approach your table, set down a glass, open your beer for you and then slowly, awkwardly, incorrectly pour it into said glass all while you just sit there like a fat, useless tub of lard? You probably look at your phone to cut the awkwardness, don’t you? I’ve taken to just telling them that I can do it to avoid the ensuing awkwardness. Let me say this; if you enjoy having a beer opened and poured for you while you do nothing, then your parents probably resent the person you have become.

Bring the beer and open it. Leave the pouring to me. I’M AN ADULT WHO HATES FEELING USELESS EVEN THOUGH I KINDA’ AM SOMETIMES BUT NOT WHEN IT COMES TO POURING DRINKS IN GLASSES!

–Don’t have Law & Order SVU on the TVs without the sound when the city you’re in has a team in the playoffs playing RIGHT NOW!

If you’re a Law & Order SVU-themed bar, then fine (I can hear The VP of Ops making borderline-sexual grunting noises at the thought of this). But, the only people watching TVs in bars are sports fans, so why tease them? I do think that hipster servers probably love watching sportos squirm as they pretend not to know how a television remote works and ask “wait, what channel did you say?” for the ninth time. Part of me respects such deviousness, but most of me is a sporto who JUST GIVE ME THE GODDAMN REMOTE!

MY WORLD:

My worst restaurant experience as a customer happened when I lived in Los Angeles (golden tan, killer bod, hot babes and blow wherever I went. You know? That Los Angeles). I was on a date with A REAL LIFE LADY (Pre-VP of Ops. This girl was more “VP of Not Being Able To Contribute To The Conversation”) My plan for the date was a little out there, dinner and a movie, but I’m a risk taker, guys. We got to dinner, ordered and began having very forced, stilted conversations that were not made better with my penchant for drinking super fast when I get nervous. I was nervous and…needed to get drunk so fast please be drunk now so I don’t have to deal with my feelings faster faster faster!!!!

Next thing I know, it’s like 45 minutes after we ordered our entrees and the food still isn’t there. Am I eight drinks deep? Yes, but there was no drink limit printed on the menu so looks like I’m not breaking any rules and you should shut up. Besides, Miss No-Conversation-Skills wasn’t interesting when I was sober, so what was I really missing?

Not wanting to waste our tickets for Russell Crowe and his “Am-I-Officially-Too-Fat-To-Be-A-Star”face in “Robin Hood”, I asked our server if our food was getting close. “I don’t know man,” was not the response I was hoping for, but it was the response I got. Even my drunk brain was like “whoa, that was rough.” The restaurant was DEAD so I knew the kitchen wasn’t backed up, but I didn’t wanna introduce Miss ZERO-PERSONALITY to Angry Jimmy on our first date. So I sat quiet, kinda bit the inside of my lip and prayed that, that dickhead server just gave me a reason…JUST GIMME A REASON!

Another 20 minutes and nothing. I hadn’t seen our server for a while so I went up to the host stand to ask for a manager. YEAH, I DID THAT. When the manager arrived I told him that we had waited for over an hour and blah blah blah we needed to go now. So he asked me to pay for our drinks…Lame move, Mr. Manager. Waiting over an hour to get no food and you want me to–okay, okay, we’re not getting angry. I repeat! We (as in me) are going to prove to Miss I-Already-Can’t-Wait-Till-This-Is-Over that WE are in control of our emotions even in the most adverse of conditions. Did I tell the manager that I didn’t appreciate the service that night? I did. Did he shake his head like a condescending bitch and apologize “if you feel that way”? He did. We are still in control of our emotions.

Then we left the restaurant to walk to the movie theater when I saw our server, back in the restaurant, making purposeful eye-contact with me and proceeding to wave at me as I left. It was one of those “go fuck yourself” waves and that’s when I politely told The VP of You’re About To Be Embarrassed By Me that I would be right back.

I re-entered the restaurant making a BEE-LINE for the kitchen where I saw the server giving me the “go fuck yourself” wave. Manager Douche Canoe and the bartender got in my way but not before I got to yell “come outside and say goodbye to me!” to my new server friend. It was a solid line and I am forever proud I got it out. The fact that such a cool line was lost in me cussing out the manager and bartender is something I wish not to rehash.

I used to legitimately wonder why that server was such a dick to me that night. Did he used to date the girl I was out with? Seemed unlikely that any other human would be duped into going out with such a DUD, so I’m gonna cross that off the list. Did I go to High School with him and he was offended I didn’t recognize him? Probably not because I was a total loner back then, but a real sweetheart who most people secretly felt bad for (right?) Maybe he was jealous that I was pulling off the two-earring look that he always dreamed of going for but never had the nerve to commit to? Probably. Or, it was just because he was a server who hated being reminded of the fact that he had to work when most people were on off-time. And now I totally understand and feel bad for trying to intimidate him. (I am also thankful that he did not come and say goodbye to me outside because that would have been scary!)

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Fat Russell Crowe in the middle of a walking work-out is a personal fave.

RUSSELL CROWE OUT IN LA

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you’re in the middle of watching an awesome YouTube video on your iPhone and, all of a sudden, the video stops because your phone has to warn you that you only have 20% battery life remaining. THANKS FOR RUINING THE MOOD, APPLE!

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

Another day, another dollar not won. Starting to feel like I’m giving money away by NOT gambling. I will be alone in a Rockford, Illinois hotel tonight and that means one thing…gambling on random NBA games RIGHT before they start. No point in looking at the lines now.

(My account currently at $102.61)

K bye.