It’s Time To Try Some Stuff

MY WORLD

Guys, it’s okay to look into your neighbor’s windows now. (Deep gasp…. “Honey? Do you know where our binoculars are?”) No, stop it. I’m not talking like in the creepy Peeping Tom sense, I’m meaning like, if you can see into your neighbor’s apartment or house, it’s okay to just stare into there now. It’s quarantine and there are only so many episodes of “Mad Men” you can watch while pretending that all you’re thinking about isn’t “Dear God, when can I look at MY FUCKING PHONE AGAIN?!?!” (New nightly game in our household is watching the other one on the phone while “our” show is on and acting like you’re not super pissed and jealous about it. Is there a more condescending question than, “Why do you need to look at your phone so much?”)

Anyway, you can look into your neighbor’s window now. As long as you’re sitting in your place, and you’re not using binoculars (“Forget it! He said ‘no binoculars’. DAMNIT!”) And the reason I know it’s okay is because that’s what I was doing for the 37 minutes prior to writing this. What I did was, I sat down at my writing desk (it’s special because it’s white and…my laptop sits on it!) opened a blank word document, and then…stared out my window and into the apartments of ALL of my across-the-street neighbors! Nothing too interesting, but there were a few instances where I’m sure this guy on the 3^rd floor saw me, and I just didn’t try to hide that I was looking into his apartment. Usually, I’d do the thing where I’d awkwardly look up at the ceiling and then leave the room, but not tonight…NOT IN QUARANTINE! I’M LOOKING IN YOUR APARTMENT, BUB! AND THERE AIN’T A GODDAMN THING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!

So voyeurism is a new thing I’m trying, and that got me to thinking: What else would I do or try now that I am so obscenely quarantinoed (“torpedoed” with the quarantine blues = quarantinoed)

SMOKING CRACK

I would. If a drug dealer was riding his bike up and down my block yelling, “I’m going to give free crack to someone in whichever apartment building I stop in front of tonight!” and that drug dealer stopped in front of my apartment, where I just so happened to be looking out the window, and we made eye-contact, and he was like “You! You want some free crack?” I’d be like “Yeah.” Of course he’s wearing latex gloves, and I would insist that he simply leave it at the front door to my building because of contactless pick-up and all. But yeah, as long as he did that, and was willing to explain to me from the sidewalk up to my 3^rd floor apartment how to smoke crack, I would do it.

There are just so few opportunities in life to justify smoking crack in your apartment, that I feel like passing up the covid quarantine justification, is a disgusting waste of a perfect excuse. Also, we’ve all watched all of the drug shows and documentaries and news stories, and I’m sure, like me, you’ve thought “I bet I wouldn’t get addicted if I tried it.” And you know what? YOU WOULDN’T IN QUARANTINE! Unless the generous drug dealer decides to bike down your block again, but chances are he won’t because he’s busy spreading cheer to surrounding neighborhoods. Free crack is one thing. Free crack TWICE? Dream on, weirdo!

And if you do it just once, in the safety of your own apartment under the horrified supervision of your southern wife, what’s the worst that could happen? (Not a serious question, do not send me google articles about the first, and last time people smoked crack. DON’T RUIN MY DREAM!) Would explaining why you felt compelled to do this to your wife be uncomfortable? Of course! But what is she going to do? Leave? Where? It’s a quarantine babe, ain’t nowhere to go!

In fact, I’m pretty sure smoking crack suppresses hunger, so I would make a health-based argument to The VP that would go something like this: “VP? Hi, it’s me Jimmy. You know I want you to find me attractive, right? Well I know that you’ve noticed me eating 8 meals a day and snacking in between, and I can tell that my turbo-charged weight gain is really bumming you out. So! What if I told you I could ingest something that would suppress my appetite and cause me to lose a few lbs?” As the VP would pretend not to be supremely disgusted by my newly explosive waistline, she’d say something like, “Oh stop…but what?” That’s when I’d show her the spoon with the crack on it.

Now, would she be excited? No. I can’t imagine any wife is excited when her husband announces that he’s going to smoke crack in front of her. BUT! There is a chance that A) She doesn’t know that it’s crack on the spoon, or B) That if it does end up causing you to lose weight, she’ll justify the means to the end of your waistline expansion. Obviously, there is a ‘C’ option that could take place where she calls her mom crying that “Jimmy is smoking crack!” but I think that’s unlikely because this is my dream AND what woman wants anyone to know that their husband is a crack smoker?

So, I’d end up getting to smoke crack without most of all of the negative consequences associated with smoking crack NOT during a quarantine. The positives include:

Getting to finally see what all the “buzz” is about with this crack thing!
Can’t get addicted when you only do it once and have no chance to get it again…anytime soon at least.
Can’t get arrested at a time when cops have much more important things to do than bust a pudgy 34 year-old looking to “just try something crazy, man!”
Can’t lose your wife because the government says she is not allowed to leave the house. By the time all of these restrictions are lifted, she’ll be laughing about you smoking crack!
It has to be a pretty kick-ass high, right?

Am I asking for someone to send me crack and instructions how to do it from the spoon thing? (Like, can you use any old spoon or…is a spoon even involved? Wait, no…I’d just need a pipe wouldn’t I?!?!) I am not looking for someone to send me crack and instructions on how to do it. But, yes, if it were sent to me I would smoke it…and, I would probably try heroin too now that I realize that’s the one you use with the spoon. Either one.

HACKING A WEBSITE

In normal-times, hackers suck. They sit in front of their computers all day and just fuck with websites because they can, while we’re all out being COOL PEOPLE doing things like drinking shots with people you don’t like that much, and hiking. However, when EVERY PERSON is sitting in front of their computer all day, aren’t hackers the coolest? By default, they become top of the human food chain. Well, since I don’t want to be at the bottom of that food chain, because the bottom…uh…DIES! I’d like the opportunity to prove my worth by hacking a website.

I wouldn’t want to be a hardcore, governmental website hacker that gets hauled away by The Punisher. No, instead, I’d like to be that like friendly, harmless hacker guy. Like, hack into the TJ Maxx website, rename it “TJ Min” and make it so the ONLY product available is a bandana that says “Born to Ride” on it. Everyone’s aunt, having just recently learned how to e-shop on account of quarantine, would be so excited to check out what TJ Maxx has to offer until… “How come all I can buy is this very very cool bandana?” Then they’d buy the “Born to Ride” bandanas even though they don’t even ride! SUCKERS!!!!

Most of the reasons why I would try these things during quarantine come back to me being able to tell people that I did that thing once, and this is no exception. I’m imagining some dumpy dinner party I’ll be invited to a few years down the road, where I don’t really know anyone and am giving The VP half-smiles from across the room that she knows mean, “can we get the fuck out of here now?” As I’d guzzle WHATEVER alcohol was available in between menacing half-smiles, some blob would come up to me and say, “Hey, I’m Blobbington, what’s your name?” It would be at this precise moment, that I would bypass the typical introductions: “Don’t worry about my name, Blobbington. I’m a hacker.”

Blobbington would try to chuckle off the “I’m a hacker”-thing to ease the tension, but I’d lean into it and give him a menacing “I’m not fucking kidding”-chuckle. Then it’s awkward, but I’d have the power position in this interaction that I never really wanted in the first place. “I’ve hacked websites, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.” Then I’d finish my drink, hold out the empty glass for Blobbington to take, and yell across the room, “I’m leaving now!”

And I’d be able to do all of that because I tried hacking a website during quarantine.

DM’ING CELEBRITIES

I want to DM celebrities because getting celebrities to personally respond to me would feel like a real victory and I know that’s sad, but it’s true. How many boring ass stories about someone’s celebrity sighting have you sat through? How many have you enjoyed? The answers to those two questions are: a billion! And zero!

Buuuuuuuuut, if I told you a story about how I DM’d Robert from “Shark Tank” about “how proud I am of you for being an advocate for the very short businessman community,” and he responded with “Thx” and a praying hands emoji, wouldn’t you enjoy that? I bet you would!

Which celebrities would I most like to DM, aside from “Shark Tank” Bob, and what would I say to them hoping to elicit ANY sort of response? I’m glad you asked!

Adele: “Can you palm a basketball?”
- I really want to know. I think she can.
Scottie Pippen: “Be honest, do you think you were better than Michael Jordan?”
- How many nights do you think Pippen stayed up thinking, “If Phil would just let me take the last shot, I’d be the star!”
Just saying “I love you” to all of my celebrity crushes in the hopes that one of them would respond, “I love you too.” Then I could show off and tell everyone that “Don Draper’s mistress from Season 3, episode 7 of ‘Mad Men’ loves me too!”

PODCAST TO LISTEN TO:

Season One of “Up and Vanished”. I listened to it on a road trip a while ago and I don’t remember details, but I remember it was engrossing.

MUSIC TO LISTEN TO:

A bunch of musicians have been playing live concerts from their homes during this quarantine, and I watched some of Pete Yorn’s on Instagram live. That was good. But I also just found that Dave Matthews plays a solo show on Yahoo and it’s recorded and I can watch it whenever I want. So…yeah, maybe I’ll check it out. Whatever. I do what I want.

Here’s the link…I don’t know if it’ll work because I suck with computers, BUT I’M TRYING MY BEST!

https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/dave-matthews-livestream-concert-verizon-pay-it-forward-live-234734706.html

TV SHOW TO WATCH:

I’ve been having a really hard time focusing on television shows, so I’ve been leaning more towards shows that I can enjoy without paying THAT much attention to. One of the best for this kind of viewing is “Shark Tank”. I feel like it’s on 24/7 and I always kinda’ enjoy it without having to really try that hard.

MOVIE TO WATCH:

The VP and I watched “Sicario” a few days ago and it was smart, intense, and cool. I like those things.

K, bye.

I Live Above A Drug Dealer (6-19-18)

MY WORLD:

I think I live above a drug dealer. In fact, it’s a couple, so I could very well be living above TWO drug dealers who are working in concert to avoid detection while maximizing ILLEGAL PROFITS!!! If you can’t tell yet, this goes deep. While I’m sure many of you are saying to yourselves “Jimmy, just because a guy has neck tattoos, off-putting facial hair and a pit bull, it doesn’t mean he’s a drug dealer.” (Time to dig my heels in and go into full-on Jimmy Law Mode…) WELL, THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE’S NOT A DRUG DEALER! (Nailed it.)

A couple weeks back (months? years? EVERYTHING IS BLURRING TOGETHER IN THIS FRANTIC WHIRLWIND WE CALL LIFE!!!) ANYWAY! A time ago, I was coming home late from work, for I am a “man of the night.” When I parked my car on the street, I noticed the old, white Chevy Impala that is ALWAYS parked in the exact same spot. I’m convinced this car was built on this corner and has never actually been driven and the fact that it takes up the best parking spot near my building DRIVES ME BONKERS. So I’m passing the car I hate the most on this fateful night when I notice a character in another raggedy car idling next to the Impala. The senses honed while a Boy Scout for the 5 months before I told my Dad that I hated camping and being outdoors kicked in…SOMETHING WAS UP!

So I hurried up inside my building. We live on the third floor of a six-unit building; two units per floor. (Six flat? Three flat? IT’S NOT EVEN FLAT THOUGH SO WHAT THE FUCK?!?) Once inside, I gave The VP of Ops that sweet baby smooch she’d, no doubt, been DAYDREAMING about all day and got my guard dog, Belly Psychopants, to head back outside for her nighttime dumperoo. Little did Belle know that maintaining her digestive system wasn’t my main purpose for going outside; Detective Jimmy was ’bout to scope out this Impala situation.

Of course, we scurried across the street once outside. The idling car was still idling right next to that fuggin’ Impala and this was purely a stake-out situation for me. Time to hide on the side of the street without any lights! (You think darkness is your ally? I WAS BORN IN THE DARK!!!) Shielded by the night sky, Belly Psychopants sniffed every single blade of grass while I squinted at the wasteful driver (idling in your car is no bueno for your engine FYI. Read that on a little website called Google. EVER HEARD OF IT?!?!) After about 4 minutes of Belle’s grass sniffing and my sleuthing, someone got out of the idling car. He wasn’t a small man, but he wasn’t a big man…HE WAS A NORMAL-SIZED MAN! (So, not really distinguishable from across the street at night.)

Once outside the car, I noticed something VERY suspicious: he was on his phone. Yeah! Yeah! AND! He left his car running with the door open. I almost alerted him that this area is known for carjackings but his aura screamed “I DON’T GIVE A CARE!” (You felt his aura? Or were you just scared? Answer the question, Jimmy. We’ll wait…) Belle tugged on her leash either because she had to make a doody or because she was a frightened ‘lil beeyotch. Unfortunately for Belle, Pomerantz’s never succumb to fear (dubious, at best). While on the phone, NSM (normal-sized man), went up to the white impala’s gas tank. He popped open the…uh….latch? You know, the little door-thing you open when putting gas in your car? (Car guy alert!) NSM opened the tiny gas-door thingy, looked like he took something out of there, then got back in his car and took off.

When he got back in his car, it’s not like he peeled off, but, in a way, isn’t that MORE suspicious? He was probably like “just in case there’s a definitely-not-scared 32 year-old man with his labradoodle watching me from behind a tree across the street, I better not peel off and draw MORE attention to myself.” I SEE THROUGH YOUR GAMES, PAL!!! I looked down at Belle to mutter “that was something” but she didn’t even care. How interesting can the smells of grass really be? Seriously?!?! We weren’t done snooping yet, though. For, right as we were about to go about our dumpin’ ways, I heard the main door to MY apartment building open. It’s a loud door because our landlord has never heard of WD-40, BUT THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT. I heard our door, and went back into squint-mode. Belle went back to sniffing and, like, totally not helping our cause.

Our well-lit entrance revealed a pale man with dark tattoos slither out the front door, down the steps, and over to…that goddamn Impala. This guy owns the Impala! While resisting my overwhelming urge to yell “WHY HAVE A CAR IF YOU’RE NEVER GONNA DRIVE IT?!?!” I noticed that slither-man was ALSO interested in the tiny gas-door thingy (hold on, I’m gonna google this…some are calling it a “fuel door”) Slither-man opened the fuel door, grabbed something, and then went back to his slithering ways back inside our building. I watched the windows of our building from outside and noticed that a light came on, on the floor below The VP and I right around the same time he entered the building. What. Just. Happened.

I’ll tell ya’ what just happened! That fuel door (car guy!) is the secret exchange place for drugs and money. One guy drops drugs there, the other guy drops money in exchange for said drugs, then the first guy (drug guy!) gets the money. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a guilty verdict with A FRIGGIN’ BOW ON IT! I don’t need a silly hat and magnifying glass to solve the great crimes of the 21st Century. All I need is my fluffy dog and the COVER OF DARKNESS!

Now, if you’re thinking that I’ve rushed to judgement, don’t worry, I’ve put together more pieces to the puzzle since this dark, scary, yet illuminating night. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you, my findings:

-The outside of slither-man’s apartment door, the one facing to the hall, has a black feather wreath hanging on it. I plan to call on a nationally renowned wreath-expert who will reveal that black feather wreaths signify one thing, and one thing only: drugs.

-Slither-man and his female companion have NEVER been seen during daylight. While the VP and I have seen all of the other tenants of the building soaking up Vitamin D, we have yet to see Slither-man and Jane Doe bag ANY rays. I know what you’re thinking: “But Jimmy, a lot of people work at night and sleep during the day! Maybe they’re just bartenders or factory workers.” That brings me to my next finding…

-Every single night when I take Belly Psychopants outside, there is a cloud of weed smoke billowing out from under Slither-man’s door and into the hallway. Last I checked, it’s pretty tough to be at a factory and smoking weed inside your apartment AT THE SAME TIME! (This is the part where I shrug my shoulders and say something like “Not that I’m against weed or nuffin'” to get the jury on my side. Lemme tellya’ though, as a certified weed-fearing person, walking through clouds of pot smoke, terrified of catching a contact-high and, subsequently, having a paranoia panic attack is NOT an enjoyable experience every time you have to take your dog out. I feel like a scuba diver without an oxygen tank whenever I pass this apartment while it’s dark outside.)

-Slither-man and Jane Doe have a big, scary looking dog that is very calm. Must be stoned. No other possible explanation for it. (Maybe they just paid attention to training it from a young age, unlike some people…) NOPE!

-And, just in case you weren’t paying attention during my opening argument, Slither-man’s white, Chevy Impala has not moved for a MINIMUM of 15 years. MINIMUM!

For all you mathematicians out there, here’s the arithmetic:

Fuel door shenanigans + White Impala that has never moved + Black feather wreath + Clouds of pot smoke outside their door + Big, scary stoned dog + Night time sightings ONLY

EQUALS

Drug Dealers

I rest my case.

Going forward, I may touch on potential best and worst-case scenarios involving The VP and I living about these drug kingpins. For now, Belle and I will continue to sniff out grass smells of all kinds (see what I did there? GOD, I’M GOOD!)

OUR WORLD:

There is no formal review of this week’s “The Bachelorette” because I got home late last night and was so frustrated with everything surrounding my day that I just had to be alone to cook in the kitchen while the show aired (there may also have been a mondo Martini involved here). Here is what I gathered from The VP yelling to me from the living room and getting to catch the last 11 minutes-ish of the show:

-Jordan did something: I don’t really know what. The VP yelled some muffled thing about Jordan maybe winning something or doing something or…Look, this guy is the only thing keeping this season afloat. Although, I’m starting to think he’s just too obvious of a producer-plant. Like, is really dumb enough to say the things he’s saying? The whole “my face is my professionality” thing, etc. He’s like an evil-Michael Scott who…may be in on the joke? Is he?

-Cologne-guy got booted: Uhhhhhhh, called it. Dudes who are into cologne and “accoutrements” are BOZOS of the highest degree. I feel ridiculous even writing the word “accoutrements”. I can’t imagine bragging to a national television audience about how my self-worth is tied to the “accoutrements” and cologne I wear. YAMMA MOMMA!

-My fave, stunt-guy Leo, got a rose! This dude has no chance of winning, but I’m glad he’s still around. He’s legitimately funny and still has the potential to steal the show by performing a death-defying stunt. Whether it’s a car or building or…motorcycle? Leo needs to jump out of something right as it explodes. His awesome long hair will just miss the ball of flames behind him as he tucks into perfectly executed barrel roll. Then he should get up, spit out the shards of glass that landed in his mouth from said explosion, and grab Becca like he’s never going to let her go. If she still picks Garret or Colton after that, then she can go straight to hell.

-Weasel-face David has a bloody eye: That’s all. His eye looks gross and I still hate his weasel face. He def would’ve been kicked off if he hadn’t just fallen off his bunkbed. Bunkbed fall will buy him 1 more episode TOPS.

Those are my takeaways. I’ll do my best to not require alone-in-the-kitchen-with-a-huge-martini-time next Monday night.

I did watch “The Proposal” afterwards and, oh baby, that show is DELICIOUSLY TRASHY!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

There’s a new Death Cab for Cutie song! While not their best of all-time, it’s new and they’re my favorite band so…EVERYTHING THEY DO I LIKE! Also, VP dunked on the universe with her bday gift to me last week–tickets to these guys next time they’re in town. Boomshakalaka:

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

It’s exhausting getting worked up about ALL of these horrifying Trump administration performances, isn’t it? I legitimately think that the stress created by this ghoulish White House is having an impact on everyone’s mood. Am I the only one a little more on edge than I should be?

WHAT CUTE OR FUNNY THING DID MY DOG DO THAT YOU PROBABLY HAD TO BE THERE FOR, BUT COULD MAYBE PUT US ALL IN A BETTER MOOD?

She sneezed right in The VPs face last night. Legit drenched her. I was proud of Belle.

K bye.

My Last Weed Experience and Movie Reviews (3/21/18)

MY WORLD:

I’ve fallen into this routine when I write these blog posts (aka yet-to-be-truly-discovered-voice-of-a-generation-masterpieces) where I listen to the same three songs as I start to write. From Dave Matthews Band’s Live Trax Vol. 6: Fenway Park, I listen to “The Idea of You”, “Grey Street” and “Bartender”. From there, I’ll usually drift into some cool underground artist that you probably haven’t even heard of so, like, don’t even try (Oh…you HAVE heard of Sia?) Between these songs and the lingering pot smoke I detected on my morning walk with Belle (of course I immediately called the Police), I was reminded of the day I realized that I couldn’t smoke pot anymore; the last time I went to a Dave Matthews Band concert.

I’m going to say it was the Summer of 2013 because 2011-2015 is basically the same to me now, and I don’t remember exactly and I don’t want to look it up so…SUMMER OF 2013! My brother Matthew, my roommate Dave and myself bought tickets to see DMB at Alpine Valley, a little Wisconsin farm town a couple hours outside of Chicago. Yes, I did realize I was seeing Dave Matthews Band with guys named Dave and Matthew and, yes, I did bring this up at least 19 times throughout the day.

My brother met Dave and I at our apartment for the pre-concert pump-up session that is needed before any big show. This PCPU (pre-concert pump-up…come on, keep up) consisted of playing Dave Matthews Band songs LOUD while drinking beers and going through what songs we NEEDED to hear at the concert later. (I love how during every PCPU, you’ll say something about how disappointed you’ll be if they don’t play a certain song and then you feel the need to KEEP BRINGING IT UP to the people around you during the show. Nobody cares. Let’s not do that anymore.) After a few beers and shots (oh my god guys, shots?) it was time for us to make our way to the meet-up where shuttle buses were taking people from Chicago to Alpine Valley.

I know people paint the picture of typical DMB fans wearing cargo shorts, and pookah shell necklaces, and, I don’t know, other sweet-ass shit, but I never notice that. And I didn’t this time as we waited with the cargo-shorts wearing masses to get on the buses. Whenever I’ve gone to a Dave show I just notice that everyone around me is pretty nice and excited. (Suck it hipsters.) So while I would love to recount some “you wouldn’t believe how bro-ey these bros were”-stories, I just remember people being nice and excited. (Make something up Jimmy! This is boring!) As we got on the bus, however, I do remember IMMEDIATELY panicking that there was no way I was getting out of smoking weed today.

Right after college, I got pretty good with weed. I could wake and bake and do fun stuff like go swing on the swings at a park where I was the only person above the age of 7 (ya know, fun-not-creepy-at-all stuff like that!) I worked in a restaurant, had a good relationship with a dealer and really enjoyed getting stoned to watch movies. But I lived alone, and that meant getting stoned alone far too often…which leads to solo freak outs in the dark. (Tonight’s plan? Get home. Smoke. Eat an entire bag of Tostitos with queso. Freak out about my future in bed. CAN’T WAIT!) After one too many of those “I’m an absolute failure in life forever”-freakouts, I swore off the sneaky smokey treat.

But then I’m sitting on a bus surrounded by nice, excited people, no! Friends! WE WERE ALL FRIENDS ON THAT BUS! Sitting in thin clouds of pot smoke, I was thinking “I mean, all my friends on this bus seem to be handling marijuana quite well. Frankly, they seem to be enjoying themselves QUITE a bit! Therefore, I have decided that I am cured of my weed-freakouts and will, again, partake in that sneaky smokey treat.” Actually, it was much more out of a fear of being labeled as a lame-o that I told Dave and Matthew that I’d smoke with them when we got off the bus.

Dave and Matthew acted excited about me agreeing to smoke with them. That is because they had never had a front-row seat to my weed freakouts. Ignorance is bliss, friends. We arrived at Alpine, got off the bus and snuck behind…well, we didn’t really have to hide because everybody in that world was smoking weed. So Dave pulled out his bowl and I took a hit. It wasn’t a massive coughing-fit hit, but I held it in like a pro and gave a pretty dope head nod to my brother Matthew as if to say “Y’all know me, still the same old G.” I was cool weed guy for, approximately, the next 8 seconds. Then I made Dave give me his sunglasses and got REAL quiet. (Oh no…Jimmy Freakout has entered the building!)

As we made our way to the lawn area, I made my way into my brain to begin the weed freakout in public routine. Paranoid about my heart racing, I decided a beer would help slow it down. WRONGO! It was dusk and I was keeping these stolen sunglasses over my eyes like my life depended on it. Seriously, if Dave took those sunglasses back, my body would have eyes would have melted and my body would have exploded and my Mom would have been all “I can’t believe my son exploded from weed!” Dave and Matthew seemed to be doing okay, but we were all quiet.

Dave ran into people he knew and introduced me in my sunglasses-in-the-dark self to them. I was thankful to Dave for this because when you’re stoned to the point of almost crying, meeting a complete stranger is EXACTLY what you want to do. (Hello, my name is Name. Good to name you. Name!) The show began and my symptoms only grew. Why was it so fucking loud?!?! I was positive that everyone around me was talking about why I was wearing sunglasses in the pitch black. (Because I’m scared! Okay? I’m so scared!) I tried to get into the music, threw a few fake “I’m having fun”-smiles at Dave and Matthew and attempted to kinda dance. I’m sure it looked more like an adult with cryface who was having a mild seizure. I absolutely needed a really firm hug from someone telling me “it’s going to be okay”…and I really had to pee.

Like, I really really really had to go pee, but it was dark and super crowded. I thought if I tried to make my way to the bathroom, that I’d never be able to find Dave and Matthew again when I came back. My brain evaluating the future = I’d search frantically for my sweet brother and brave roommate only to realize that they had already gotten on the bus back to Chicago…and I didn’t know anyone else there…and I would die alone in the lawn pavilion amidst concert debris at Alpine Valley. Hold it or die was my choice. I saw a guy near me pee into a bottle and I was very jealous of his pee-courage. I looked down at a water bottle near me, but it was too crowded and people were definitely looking at me like “don’t even think about pissing in that bottle near me.” Like, at one point I leaned down to maybe grab the empty bottle and I’m pretty sure a guy pointed a machine-gun at me and said “not another move.”

Whether he just sensed me nearing a heart attack or actually heard me mutter “help!”, Dave came to the rescue. He had to go to the bathroom, did I want to go? I LOVE YOU DAVE! Thing is, Dave is a very fast, aggressive walker and he took off like he was in a race. I did the half-jog-half-I-cant-walk-this-fast-naturally thing to keep up. He stormed through the crowd in a way that I can only describe as magnificent. Keeping up with this magnificent storm was difficult and so I did what any self-respecting adult male would do. I jogged to get real close to him and grabbed his hand when he swung it back. Like a little brother holding on for dear life was me clutching onto Dave’s paw. (I’m not dying in Alpine tonight!)

Post-pee (oh yeah, I kept an eye on where Dave was the entire time we were in the bathroom) we met outside the bathroom. Now, I don’t know if this next part is completely true, but it’s how I remember it…Dave looked at me and I looked at Dave the way a dog looks at it’s owner walking out of the door with a suitcase. (Don’t leave me). And Dave extended his hand. I will never be more excited to hold hands with anyone ever again. He led me back to our lawn area like a true gentleman. When I got back, my brother Matthew said “Jesus, this weed is freaking me out.” THANK GOD! I’M NOT ALONE!!! WE’RE IN THIS TOGETHER!!!

The rest of the concert consisted of all of us talking over the music about how bad we were handling the weed. It was comforting, but still scary because we were all still kinda stoned. We chugged water and gatorade and didn’t listen to the show because all that mattered was getting back to sober. Ever have that feeling? Like, you would DO ANYTHING to just get back to zero on the effed-up scale? I would’ve taken a punch from Godzilla if that would have sobered me up.

That was the last time I smoked weed (basically). And here we are 5ish years later and guess who is going to the June 30 Dave Matthews Band concert? Me, Dave and Matthew. I hear CBD is pretty chill.

OUR WORLD:

With our sports teams dying on the vine and weather that is still shitty enough to justify staying inside FOREVER, I figured I’d help you out by reviewing the movies currently playing at the theater near my apartment. (Movie date? Movie date!) Now, I have not seen all these movies, but I will review them anyway and not tell you whether I saw it or not. Think of it as a fun guessing game.

The Shape of Water: Not as good as you want it to be. Get ready to look at your date a few times to make sure if they’re okay with fish sex. Michael Shannon is cool. Jimmy Rating = “Good, ya’ know, not great. Good though.”

7 Days in Entebbe: More like 7 Days in NOTHANKYOUtebbe (sick burn Jimbo!) Do you like seeing movies with actors you’ve never heard of about a thing you never knew happened? Well actually, sometimes I do because then I can talk about it like “I can’t believe you haven’t heard of the 1976 Air France hijacking!” This movie is no bueno, but it allows you to sound smarter than your friends. Jimmy Rating = “Even though it wasn’t very good, I know more than you because I saw this movie.”

A Wrinkle in Time: Oprah, magic and people whispering “this isn’t as good as the book.” I didn’t read this book and I don’t appreciate everyone making me feel like a dummy for that. Jimmy Rating = “Nah, I’m good.”

The Death of Stalin: I supported Stalin dying, so I support this movie. Jimmy Rating = “You don’t?”

Thoroughbreds: A couple girls try to kill a mean dad and then a skinny guy who kinda looks like Elijah Wood (but isn’t Elijah Wood) shows up to thwart their plan. Don’t hate the plot, but it is hard to get over the “I’m just not sure that isn’t Elijah Wood” whisper-fight you’ll get into with your date during this movie. Jimmy Rating = “IT’S NOT ELIJAH WOOD!”

Red Sparrow: Jennifer Lawrence as a sexy, ass-kicking spy with a bad haircut. Sounds like a winner until you realize that no one has talked about his movie since it came out like 3 weeks ago. That can’t be a good sign. Jimmy Rating = “Maybe in 18 months when the VP of Ops is out of town and I’m drunk and there’s nothing else on demand.”

Annihilation: Weird, artsy sci-fi where Natalie Portman looks to the sky a lot and the people around her tell her to “get back!” It’s good, but you won’t get it because you don’t like art, so just skip it and watch another episode of Spongebob. Jimmy Rating = “You just don’t get it.”

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The time you realized you’re not good at drugs. (Sigh…)

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 didn’t gamble last night and I really wanted to. I even sent out a trial balloon text to my gambling crew about putting some money on the Blazers (+4.5). No response = no bet…and then the Blazers lost by 4 AND WE WOULD’VE WON! DAMNIT! Back to gambling tonight because I am done with zero action nights. Put the mortgage on Cavs (-1.5) over the Raptors.

(My account currently at $28.21)

K bye.