When Your Wife Goes Out of Town and Gross Foods (4/18/18)

MY WORLD:

The VP of Ops has left me.

She took off on an airplane this morning to go to a little place called Mexico, ever heard of it? (The friend of mine who reminded me of the “ever heard of it?”-joke was disappointed that he/she did not receive proper credit in last week’s blog. Well, TOO FUCKING BAD! THIS IS MY WORLD! AND NOW, WHENEVER ANYONE THINKS OF THE “EVER HEARD OF IT?” JOKE, THEY WILL THINK OF JIMMYSCHAIR FIRST! ME! ME! ME!) This Mexico trip is a 5 day bachelorette-a-thon where they’re staying in a…(uh oh, I know she told me where they were staying multiple times. And, I definitely was not listening to her when she was telling me)…they’re staying in a place where there’s a beach and stuff. What that means, is that I’m single for the next five days. It’s true, guys. I can do whatever I want because The VP is not here and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have internet access so KEEP YOUR MOUTHS SHUT!

Jk lol omg guys. It’s called a joke! What it really means is that I’ll probably gamble more, eat worse and throw a few pouches in my lip because I’M FREE!!! (There should be another warning label on tobacco tins that reads “Just because you only do this when your wife is out of town, doesn’t mean it’s not still bad for you.”) You see, every time The VP of Ops goes out of town, I go through the same stages in the first 24 hours of “Freedom”:

The “Wow, I can’t wait to do whatever I want when I get back tonight”-stage: This is the most exciting stage of The VP actually leaving. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS! This stage usually occurs right after she leaves and I promised her that I would miss her so much. However, what I’m really thinking when I tell her that I’ll “miss her so much” is “I wonder what I’m gonna have for dinner tonight before getting to watch 5 straight hours of playoff basketball with action on EVERY SINGLE GAME!” The first night alone, you need to be alone–this is not the night to invite your friends over and make them jealous that their significant other isn’t out of town too…that’s for tomorrow. Tonight is for tacos or wings or…no, just tacos or wings with moderate-to-heavy drinking and maybe a vape or dip sesh. Bad boy stuff only.

The “Wait, so I have to take the dog out every time while she’s gone?”-stage: I don’t know why this reality always surprises me when she’s gone, but usually late in the first day of it, I get salty that she’s not flying back to take Belle outside. I’ll get back from work, plop my finely toned and overworked bod on my chair and Belle will start crying. However, now I can’t trick her to “go find mom!” (Such a great dog trick. Stupid dog, Mom’s in the kitchen; Can’t you hear her talking to me?) And then I’ll think to myself “well this is kinda’ bullshit.” Don’t get me wrong, Belle is my numba one pretty gurrrrl, but sometimes Relaxin’ Jimmy just needs her to stop staring while running in place and growling at me. Normally, right about now, is when The VP of Ops will call me to “check in” (I’m not a baby!) and I’ll have to try real super hard not to sound pissy on the phone about having to do EVERYTHING IN THE UNIVERSE!

The “It’s late and I’m really tired, but I need to force a drunk tonight to prove how much fun this vacation is”-stage: End of night one ALWAYS feels like this. I should just go to bed because I’m an adult with a CAREER (ever heard of it?) but that would be admitting defeat to myself. It’s like I can hear 25 year-old, single Jimmy making fun of me for even thinking about going to bed before 10:30. I’m not kidding when I tell you that there is probably going to be some audible pump-up self-talk along the lines of “come on Bud, let’s have a time!” Then I’ll go and pour another little glass of scotch that I don’t need OR really want. BUT WE’RE HAVING FUN, DAMNIT! I’ll try convince myself that I care about watching the Oklahoma City game because I have $8 riding on it before falling asleep in my chair and waking up at 2AM in a “where am I?!?”-panic.

I’ll wake up the next morning to a living room that smells like scotch because I left my half-full glass on the coffee table, and my socks are on the ground and there are taco wrappers on the counter. Guess what, though? Don’t have to clean it up till later.

OUR WORLD:

The Top Ten Foods That Are Gross And Why Does Anyone Eat Them:

Yogurt: The consistency, the sound it makes when you stir it and if you lick the lid then we can’t be friends anymore. I’m serious.
Cauliflower Mashed Potatoes: Fake mashed potatoes and I am not even close to being tricked. They taste like sour mush.
Cottage Cheese: Are people serious with this shit? Can’t be. Must be an elaborate prank.
Grape Nuts Cereal: It’s brown gravel.
Energy Gel/Goo: Distance runners/people who are V serious about working out eat this stuff during workouts and it’s GNARLY GROSS.
Lox: I have never tried them and I will not.
Black-Eyed Peas: All you’re thinking about is how normal peas are way better than these weird things.
Ham Salad: You’re not chicken or tuna salad and you never will be. Stop trying.
Bologna: Too smooth and round. Nope.
Anchovies: I don’t even want to hear that you’re chopped up finely in my favorite caesar dressing.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Ran across this song yesterday and remembered that I really like it. Not a huge fan of the video, so just put this on in the background and don’t watch the video.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Gag city.

Yogurt

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, I didn’t gamble on the Blazers and that’s good because I’m starting to feel like I may be jinxing teams again…I did bet on the Cubs and the over last night and the Cardinals won and the over pushed so…WINNER! Tonight, I’m loving a moneyline parlay of NBA games: Cleveland, Utah and Houston. Feels so right.

(My account currently at $204.55)

K bye.

Guy Fieri Fandom and Tales of Laziness (4/5/2018)

OUR WORLD:

I want to be friends with Guy Fieri. He’s Queen meets Limp Bizkit meets the best cheeseburger you had when you were 13. His bleached blonde spikes and thin goatee WORK, and if you don’t smirk while nodding your head whenever he talks about a dish being “out of bounds”, then maybe you’re the reason you and your father haven’t spoken in years. I would like to formally welcome you to jimmyschair Reality TV Show Hall of Fame Introduction for Guy Fieri’s “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives”.

It’s really fun to fall in love with someone who is easily made fun of, but has enough self-confidence to turn the joke around; like putting the sun in front of a mirror. How can a guy wearing pant-shorts, sunglasses with flames on the sides and gaudy bracelets make an old lady in a Nebraska diner blush? My favorite grandmother (we all have one, right?) would have been play-dough in Guy’s hand. I can almost hear her denying that she thought he was cute…when she TOTALLY did. What hipster can do that? I’ll wait…(I’m seriously trying to think of a counterpoint, and all I’ve got is Jeff Goldblum? Maybe? Nah.) No hipster can do that because Guy is the good-times party boy we all secretly want to be friends with.

Not everything is as ironic as we’d like to make it out to be in hindsight. Sometimes, a greasy cheeseburger at a place with torn booths just tastes fucking good. Much the way that sometimes a bowling shirt featuring bedazzled skulls is just fucking badass. Ignoring the cool-kid crowd and talking about the unimpressive things we love is what this show is about, and Guy is the embodiment of an unimpressive thing we love. What’s revolutionary about some dude in a muscle car throwing up the “rock on” sign? NOTHING! But you like it because how do you hate a guy who just wants to show you a ROCKIN’ good time?

How much do you love trying to decipher Guy’s facial expressions? Like, he’s never going to come out and said to a chef “Bro, that sandwich sucked!” But, when he doesn’t shoot the camera one of those “you cannot be serious with how good this is”-stares, you know he kinda’ doesn’t like it that much. He’s too nice of a dude to spit something out, so he’ll normally kinda nod his head while darting his eyes in a panic of trying to invent something nice to say about the shitty bite in his mouth. Normally, he’ll bail and go with the all-too-obvious “that’s very interesting” copout. (In Guy-talk, “that’s very interesting” means that you should shut your dump down because that bite was GARB!)

On the other hand, when he REALLY likes a bite, he is so expressive that you feel like you’re getting to enjoy it through your TV. This face, the “you cannot be serious how good this is”-stare, is what makes the show:

guy fieri

Full disclosure, I have absolutely stolen this face in my life. Whenever I take a bite of something awesome, I make this face now. Restaurant owners should keep an eye on their customers, and if they’re not seeing any of these faces being made, then maybe it’s time to find a new chef.

How excited do you get when you see him take a bite and drop this face, though? MOM! HE REALLY LIKES THIS PLACE THAT WE’VE NEVER BEEN TO AND PROBABLY NEVER WILL GO TO BUT IF WE DO WE’RE PROBABLY GONNA LIKE IT CUZ HE MADE THE FACE! If you run a restaurant that Guy has been to and made this face in, you need to immediately change the name of your place to “Guy Made This Face Here” with that picture next to it. Tell me you’re driving past that restaurant without stopping and I’ll tell you that you’re a goddamn stupid idiot who makes poor decisions in every aspect of your goddamn stupid idiot life! DAMNIT!

I bet he does cocaine too and, earmuffs kids, but that makes me think he’s even cooler. Like, you know those episodes when he’s really vibing with the chef? They’re fist-bumping, and throwing food puns back and forth, and Guy keeps slapping him on the back and saying how everything is “out of bounds”? You know that when the film crew takes five, Guy is nudging that chef to look down at his open palm featuring a tiny bag of white. Guy’s producers know what’s about to happen, but they pretend like they don’t see Guy direct his new best friend to the bathroom. Cut to 3 minutes later and all EVERYONE in the entire restaurant can hear is Guy and the chef alternating between giggling, snorting and high-fiving. The best part has to be when they emerge from the bathroom, a little too close to one another, sniffling and asking everyone around them “What?!”

After he parties with the chef in back, comes the part of the show where Guy turns into a journalist and interviews actual customers. ALL of the customers say pretty much the same thing “it’s just so fresh!” but it’s okay because it allows you to focus on your fantasy about what a Guy Fieri cologne would smell like. There’s always some foodie trying too hard to sound like an impressed critic, and you can feel Guy having to restrain himself from stuffing him in a locker. Then there’s the fat dude at the bar that Guy is super excited to watch eat and exchange face-stuffing tips with. Hey! He loves all shapes except skinny and that makes me feel great about myself! Take notice: they never show a super hot customer in these restaurants. It’s only the Betty-Ann’s and Larry’s of the world. Guts and bad haircuts.

By the time “Triple D” is over you have no idea what you just watched, but you’re super hungry and contemplating whether you could pull off flame sunglasses (not as a joke!) “Triple D” is a half-hour of Guy getting to be himself; takin’ big boy bites, throwin’ bones with his bros, not being snarky, and doing cocaine with new friends in rooms without cameras. There are no bad-guys in Guy’s world, just people he hasn’t met yet.

Loyal readers, please welcome the second show to the jimmyschair Reality TV Show Hall of Fame: “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives”.

MY WORLD:

I caught myself doing something extraordinarily lazy last night, and it got me thinking about the little lazy “cheat-codes” that I employ on a regular basis. Here’s what I’ve got:

-Leaving the fork I just used for my dinner on top of the leftovers I put in the fridge. This is the move I did last night. It’s an effort to put off washing said fork, but how ridiculous is that move when you have a dishwasher in your place?!?! I have a dishwasher in my place! Not only that, but we also have like a gajillion forks between all the silverware we got for wedding gifts (how about just a lifetime supply of plasticware next time?) But I still persist in trying to save myself the 3.6 seconds it would take for me to open the dishwasher, and put the dirty fork in the silverware compartment.

-Not throwing out socks or underwear with holes in them. No joke, over 30% of the underwear and socks I own, have a hole in them. I remember Jerry Seinfeld talking about how men don’t throw out underwear until they completely disintegrate and HE WAS ABSOLUTELY RIGHT! Why? Because if I throw them out, then that means I’ll have to DO SOMETHING…as in, I’ll have to go shopping for underwear and socks. Could you think of anything more boring than that? I actually did go underwear shopping at Target (the place you can’t not spend $100) a few weeks back. But I went alone, and just stared at the 97 different brands of underwear hoping that The VP would magically show up to tell me what to buy. It’s a minor miracle I didn’t just end up buying a hammer and calling it a day.

-Wearing the same pants for months at a time. I legitimately don’t know how often, if ever, I’m supposed to wash my jeans. I used to do it like once every two weeks when I’d do laundry, but then a friend told me that you’re not supposed to wash your jeans. (Ever get so happy over a seemingly-innocuous comment that you get kinda flush? That was me when I heard this. I needed a tissue.) Top 5 adult revelations definitely includes the time my friend told me you’re not supposed to wash your jeans. That means, I’m not being lazy, I’m just preserving the integrity of my denim. SCORE! Right?

-Turning my driver’s side car-door storage compartment into a garbage can that only gets emptied when I open my door on a windy day. Do I need to explain that? If you smash wrappers on top of wrappers, you can fit at least 10 thousand in that compartment.

-Leaving junk mail in my mailbox instead of taking it upstairs and throwing it in the garbage. I repeat this routine until that day I open my mailbox and the letters are so smashed that they’re getting stuck in the neighboring box. I’ll get annoyed in my head with the mailman, like “hey dude, take a hint, I’m not taking the loan-consolidation letters upstairs.” Don’t tell me that you’ve never opened your mailbox, looked through a bunch of lame credit card offers and bills you have on autopay, and then just closed your mailbox hoping those would…just go away on their own.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Even the spoof-version of Guy is a dude I wanna be friends with.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This is Jeff “The Sandwich King” Mauro. Another Food Network star who doesn’t belong on the same planet as Guy Fieri. This dude makes me angry with how big of a DOOF he is. Go away forever and never come back.

Mauro

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, the Celtics got pounded so I’m going to need to make another fucking deposit. Here’s the thing: I was feeling really sorry for myself watching that Celtics debacle. BUT! If I had won that, then I definitely wouldn’t have won any of my Masters bets because the gambling gods would’ve been like “well, you just won.” Now, since I’ve been a massive LOSER since football season ended, the gambling gods have got to be thinking about rewarding my patience. Hey, Gambling Gods, time to throw me a frickin’ bone here. My Masters picks (for now): Tiger Woods, Justin Rose, Alex Noren, Thomas Pieters, Charl Schwartzel.

(My account currently at $1.02)

K bye.

Restaurant Rules and Nightmares Pt.1

OUR WORLD:

I had a server nightmare last night (I think…I may not have because I super suck at remembering my dreams), but it got me thinking about back to my days working in restaurants. Probably because I hated working in restaurants, but there were like A BILLION things that customers did that annoyed me. Now that I’m just a Normal Joe who doesn’t work in restaurants anymore (aside from an occasional serving shift I have to beg my old boss for when my gambling losses become an ISSUE) I have noticed that there are like A BILLION things that restaurant workers do that annoy me. IT’S LIKE THE WHOLE UNIVERSE IS AGAINST ME!!! (maybe my favorite George Constanza line that my Dad and I throw back and forth at each other anytime any tiny thing annoys us.)

costanza

Having worked in restaurants and now….uh, not….I would like to help ALL OF US (we’re a community!) by spelling out “What Not To Do” for both customers AND restaurant workers. I will do the ones for customers today and the ones for restaurant workers tomorrow (Tease ’em like a pro, Jimmy!) My hope is that each side will begin to understand the other and we can rid the restaurant world of the passive aggressiveness and the “you’re not going to believe what table 7 just did” that currently plagues the world’s restaurant scene. Let’s start with the customers…

“WHAT NOT TO DO” FOR RESTAURANT CUSTOMERS

–When your server gets to your table, don’t play finger-drums on the table and ask “so whaddya’ got?”

Whether this place is busy or hasn’t had a customer since you were born, the server will immediately go into a silent, rage filled, forced smile while holding back EVERY SINGLE FIBER OF THEIR BEING from pointing at the menu and saying something along the lines of “READ, MOTHERFUCKER!” Nearing the end of my time as a server, I would give SUPER snarky responses when asked this question. I was lucky a customer never punched me for responding “that’s what menus are for”, but come on, that is an asinine and NOT FUNNY question. That’s the thing I never understood as a server; Someone would do the finger-drums/”whaddya’ got?” routine and look around their table like they’re expecting Richard Pryor-in-his-prime-laughs. What’s funny about basically asking a stranger to read for you? The amount of tired/lame/jesus-just-shut-the-fuck-up jokes that servers have to hear is insane, so do them a favor and keep this lame not-joke to yourself. Every living being in the history of the universe has something better to do than hear this routine.

-Don’t be the first or last customer of the day.

This one doesn’t make total logical sense, but I am writing this to help customers. Obviously, if there was NEVER a “first customer of the day,” there would be no customers and no money for the servers and the servers would all be evicted for not being able to pay rent and then have to live under bridges with VERMIN! That being said, every server hates their first and last customers of the day. I remember setting up in the morning, watching someone approach the doors right as the clock struck 11:30AM and saying to myself “Jesus, they have to get here THE SECOND we open?!?!” It’s an assholey thing to think and say, but all servers feel this way. It’s almost like, all servers don’t want to be serving, so if no one ever shows up they don’t have to face the harsh reality that they’re still working a job they don’t want to be working. (That’s DEFINITELY how I was/am/will always be.)

As far as being the last customer of the day, there is one caveat, it only applies to when being the last customer before the restaurant closes. If you’re a server’s last customer at the end of their lunch shift, they’ll really like you as long as you don’t linger when paying the bill. However, if you’re the person who walks in 8 minutes before closing and asks “are we too late?” everyone that works there hates you. They won’t be able to tell you that it’s too late because there’ll be one boss/owner who actually tries hard at their job, so they’ll probably force a smile and say something like “not too late…excuse me while I take a quick rest on the train tracks though!”

-Don’t eat your entire meal and then call a server over to offer “constructive criticism” about the dish.

This is a quick way to make your server feel bad. You said nothing throughout the entire meal, then want to tell them how disappointed you are when it’s too late for them to do anything? If your steak was “too salty”, then why did you eat it and lick your plate? Do you know how uncomfortable it is for a server to approach a chef about something being wrong with a dish? IT’S THE WORST! Now, if there’s like a nail in a hamburger, sure you can say something like “Hey Chef, maybe next time, don’t put nails in the hamburgers.” But, if a table has eaten EVERYTHING on the plate, uh…not going to the chef. “Hey Chef, they ate everything but wanted me to relay some constructive criticism to you because, even though they fuck up cooking boxed macaroni at home, they eat.” Not happening. If you have a legit issue with your food, bring it up EARLY. If you finish your plate, nobody cares about your “tips” on how to make it better.

-Don’t insinuate that you know the owner.

You’re not fooling anyone when you ask “is ‘Owner’s name’ here tonight?” We all know that you don’t actually care to say hi to the owner, but that you’re really just letting the staff know that you’ve met their boss before. Ugh, douche alert sirens BLARE when someone asks this. If the owner IS in the restaurant, and approaches YOU, then fine, you’re gonna get fantastic service for fear of pissing off a boss. The truth is, the only people that openly insinuate that they “know the owner” are assholes who tilt their head and give no-teeth smiles when they send back ANOTHER drink! Next time, instead of asking if the owner is there, just stand up on a table with a bullhorn and announce to the entire restaurant “I plan on being condescending to my server tonight!”

-Give Yelp! a rest.

Restaurant workers hate Yelp! the way you hate the “things to work on” section of your employee review. Imagine if that section was then put on a public website! Do servers/restaurants do things that they deserve to get shit on for? Of course, but most of the time, the people that write on Yelp! didn’t say anything when they were actually in the restaurant. Typically, they rile themselves up about what happened on the ride home (I can’t believe that server only gave me one extra lemon when I asked for extra lemonS! THE ‘S’ MEANS PLURAL YOU FUCKING SONOFABITCH!) and then decide that their imagination requires a public forum (Jimmy, that’s exactly what you’re doing right now with this blog…and now my brain hurts). The thing that stinks most about Yelp!, aside from having to type out the exclamation point every time I write ‘Yelp!’, is that most people take it as gospel. Sometimes, servers are just having a bad day and…just relax about it. When I started dating the VP of Ops my biggest issue with her was how much she relied on Yelp! when picking a restaurant. Now, she likes the pictures more than the reviews (reading is not her strong suit…What?!?! Have you seen her degree?!?! Me neither!!!) but it felt like she was validating every tattle tale who couldn’t wait to run home and type their Yelp! review. Also, real quick, a very good friend of mine once revealed to me that he was one of Yelp’s “Elite Reviewers” because he wrote so many reviews. He was bragging about all the perks that came from Yelp! for doing this: restaurant deals, free meals at new restaurants, etc. I haven’t looked at this “very good friend” the same since. In fact, I would like to officially reduce him from “very good friend” to “friend”. You know who you are.

MY WORLD:

Quick story about my worst day as a restaurant worker. I was managing (natural leader stuff) a mom-and-pop restaurant in the suburbs that would get REAL busy, especially in the summer because our outdoor section was dopeshow 10,000. This night, we were SLAMMED both inside and out, with a bunch of people waiting for a table to open up. Servers were sweating from having to hustle, the kitchen crew was sweating because it was hot in there and most of them were overweight, and I wasn’t sweating that much cuz I’m not a sweaty guy but…THIS NIGHT WAS A SWEAT!

In the middle of this very tense steamroom, when it’s all a blur of “sir, your table should be ready any minute” and “Sharon, can you scream at table 9 to get up?!?!”, an older gentlemen asked me where the bathroom was. Now, keep in mind that the inside of this restaurant was like 10 square feet. Tiny place with the kitchen obviously on one side so…the bathroom could ONLY be on the other side. I pointed him in the direction and he scurried away. He had a mean face…and I’m telling you that because it’s true and you need to know that before getting really sad.

Next thing I know, one of our servers flares her nostrils and points down at the ground in a panic. Another server said something like “is that a meatball?” and, oh dear god no, there was a big-meatball-sized shit on the ground. Old guy didn’t make it…(I know, you’re feeling bad for him right now and I understand that. Don’t get too sad yet, it evens out….) Being the manager, I had no choice. I wasn’t going to make the busboy making bullshit money do this…and the servers had already sprinted into the kitchen away from the meatball-poo. I flew to the back, got the broom and dust pan, swept the dumperoo up, sprinted back to the alley and threw ALL OF THAT OUT. Then whipped back inside, to spray and scrub human shit out of the carpet on my hands and knees. The smell was real, but there was no time to waste and making a big deal out of it would’ve freaked everyone out even more…so I acted like it wasn’t a big deal. It was.

As I scrubbed away on all fours like I was trying to cleanse every last carpet fiber that was bombed, the old man and his son stepped over me. They literally lifted their legs to step over me the way you step over your sleeping dog on the way to the couch. They then returned to their table outside to finish their meals LIKE NOTHING EVER HAPPENED. I get that old people accidents happen and aren’t funny, but as the son, wouldn’t you have gone in to say something like “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, how can I help?” to me? NO?!?! NOTHING?!?! AM I ON PLANET BULLSHIT!?!?!

The family literally said nothing to me and they came in and out of the restaurant a few more times. Thankfully, they didn’t leave any other presents for our carpet on these trips, but how do you walk past someone who just scrubbed up your grandpa’s shit without so much as a “fuck-I’m-embarassed” look? It was almost like this was par for the course for them. “Hey guys, here’s the plan for tonight: let’s go to dinner, order apps and drinks, ignore when Grandpa dumps in the middle of the busy restaurant, and then get dessert and go back to laughing!”

I used to smoke cigarettes in these days and I remember the cigarette I lit up after that shift was the most-deserved cig in my lifetime.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Emma Gonzalez. I know this is out of left field and kinda’, maybe too political for the type of stuff I normally write, but Emma is all sorts of badass. I think it’s really easy to label High School students as dumb, because you were dumb in High School (I’m including me in this. I was very very dumb and very very afraid of everything in High School) but this badass is not dumb and not afraid. Or, if she is afraid, she’s tough enough to overcome that fear to say make super poignant points that require bravery to say. I am incredibly impressed by Emma and I really like telling people that.

Emma Gonzalez

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This is how our sink looks every morning after The VP of Ops “brushes” her teeth. I legitimately don’t think she was ever taught how to properly apply toothpaste to her toothbrush.

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:

Didn’t gamble last night because I’m a strong man who has will power and gambling is not a problem for me so please stop asking me if I think I may “have a problem.” Thank you.

(My account currently at $102.61)

K bye.

My Perfect Political Commercial and Update on CarGate (3/20/18)

OUR WORLD:

Political commercials can kiss my ass. If I have to see one more fatass Gubernatorial candidate’s (more like GOOBERnatorial amirite?!?) shitty commercial interrupting my Monday night Bravo TV marathon, I’m going to LOSE IT! What are the producers of those commercials thinking? Let’s show our candidate fake smile, hold a clipboard and nod at strangers? “I do love a clipboard and a chubbo goin’ for a stroll”-VOTER X. Why not show the candidate accomplishing things that would actually impact your life in a positive way? “But Jimmy, I’m confused! What types of tasks could these commercials show?” That’s how this blog works! Were I put in charge of producing a candidates television commercial’s, I would simply film the candidate with my iPhone (to add realism!) doing the following:

*for the sake of this exercise, let’s name this candidate Oprah Winfrey BECAUSE I’M PROGRESSIVE!!!!

Reminding you that “you already have that” before you buy it again at the grocery store. How many times have you bought Spicy Brown Mustard in the past month? Every time you’ve gone grocery shopping? SAME-SIES! If you’re like me (and why wouldn’t you be? I’m NORMAL!) you probably go up and down the condiment and salad dressing aisles convincing yourself that you’re DEFINITELY out of spicy brown mustard and caesar dressing. But, to be sure, you’ll text your VP of Ops something along the lines of “we got ‘dis?” Then, because you’re smart, you will put your cell phone in your back pocket, forget you JUST sent that text, and buy your seventh bottle of spicy brown mustard. (No no, it IS a waste of money. You’re never gonna use it all. Seriously, never.) Now, imagine if when you went to grab that golden Gulden’s bottle, Oprah Winfrey leaned in (not too close, but…close enough) and said “you already have that.” Would this take a seemingly endless amount of refrigerator-research-and-memorization on Oprah’s part? Yes. BUT! If a candidate saved me not only the $4.79 at the grocery store, but the borderline-“should the cops be called?”-fury I feel when seeing I bought something I already had once I got home, they’d get my vote. Oprah “You Already Have That” Winfrey is a winner.

Sweeping up broken beer bottle shards right before someone walking their dog walks into it. Evidently, even though dumpsters have like 50 foot wide mouths, it’s IMPOSSIBLE for bars to not miss this opening when emptying their garbage cans at night. Are blind people in charge of all garbage can emptying around this fucking city? Wait, no they’d have to be blind and deaf to not see or hear the sound of GLASS SHATTERING ON PAVEMENT. Got it. Every morning when I take my sweet baby princess Belle for her AM dumparooski, we have to last-second dodge shards of glass lining EVERY GODDAMN ALLEY. If, just one morning, I saw Oprah Winfrey sweeping up these shards of glass only to dump them in the one window the bar accidentally left open, I would IMMEDIATELY vote for her. Candidate who saves my sweet baby princesses paw pads? That’s my candidate.

Standing in front of the biggest pothole on your way to work. This would be slightly dangerous for Oprah, but worth it nonetheless. Outside of burning alive, is there a worse feeling than the “ka-chunk” feeling of unexpectedly hitting a pothole in your car? (Fuck, did I pop my tire? Is the right side of my car now lower than the left? Is my axle split? Can an axle split? THAT SOUNDS LIKE A THING THAT HAPPENS! Just take me now God! TAKE ME NOW!) What if, however, instead of smashing into that crater of a pothole, you caught Oprah Winfrey out of the corner of your eye (you’re texting…it’s not okay, but we all do it. Driving’s boring, folks. Texting is fun. Fun > Boring. Not complicated.) Or maybe you just heard her yell “SWERVE!” Screeching sound, maybe you almost smash into her, maybe you actually do hit Oprah Winfrey with your car. But you DON’T hit that pothole. For her to really secure my vote, she would have to get up after I hit her, dust herself off and start running in place to show me that she was a-okay. (That way I wouldn’t feel guilty! Running in place? Don’t have to feel guilty for running her over. Thanks Oprah!) Saving me and my car from the “ka-chunk” pothole feeling? That’s my candidate.

Kicking smelly people out of your gym. As discussed in a previous blog, smelly people in gyms is a societal problem that has gone unaddressed for far too long. Imagine seeing Oprah Winfrey go up to people at your gym, make those raise their arms and then sniff them. If they stink, like if that sniff makes Oprah scrunch up her face, she has her massive bodyguard violently escort them out of the gym. This sounds like the beginning of my love story with Oprah. Who would be defending the stinko’s right to stay in the gym? Nobody, that’s who. NOBODY!

Reattaching the top of your plastic garbage can so you can use the foot-pressy-thing. It’s not complicated, but I’m never going to do it. Never. Is there a little foot-press-thingy that would pop the top up if you attached it correctly? Yes there is. Do you miss using it? Actually, kinda. That’s where Oprah comes in. Next time, you just place the top of your plastic garbage can on top of the garbage so you can get back to scrolling through Instagram on your couch, Oprah sneaks in your back entrance. Quietly, so as not to disturb your Instascrolling, Oprah then unfurls the part of garbage bag covering the part where the top clicks in. Click! Re-furl, and she’s out. Next thing you know, the foot-pressy-thing works again…until, you press it too hard and pop the top off again (which will probably be the first time you do it.) That initial excitement about getting to use the foot-prissy-thing again? That’s worth a vote my man.

These commercials, as I wrote, would be filmed on an iPhone because if they were shot using a fancy camera, it would look as if they were staged. These instances must look as real as possible, to make VOTER X actually think that “Oprah Winfrey might sneak in the back entrance of my apartment, memorize what’s in my refrigerator, and reattach the top to my shitty plastic garbage can.” I expect to be hired as a campaign manager any day now.

MY WORLD:

A quick follow-up on the whole situation I had with my car last week. (I think it was last week? Two weeks ago? Whatever. Not checking. Doesn’t matter. MOVING ON!) If you forget what happened, basically I got rear-ended by a guy who started crying when we got out to assess the damage. He didn’t have a license, was driving his girlfriend’s car without her permission and told me he would’ve gone to jail if I called the cops. Being the sucker that I am, I let him go but only after he PROMISED he’d pay for my damages (promises only matter to like 6 year olds). Thankfully, the woman whose car it was, Gail, actually DID follow through with me. She hooked me up with her insurance company and, after speaking with them a few times now, they’re going to send me a check to cover my damages! It’s a miracle.

Gail, ever the sweetheart, sent me the following text yesterday though…and this is where things have gotten interesting…is Gail kinda hitting on me? Am I kinda hitting on Gail?

Gail

(No, I still don’t know how to make that smaller. I’m sorry) So Gail dumped the dude who kinda-stole her car and smashed into me. Now keep in mind that I’m married (LOVE YOU VP!) and Gail is, minimum, 34 years older than me. But…like, maybe we’re meant to be with each other? She was very nice, has lived up to her promise to take care of my car (everyone knows I love a promise-keeper), and she basically alerts me that she is now single.

I know it’s been a while since I did the whole flirting thing, but this feels like that…right? Should the VP of Ops be nervous? I don’t know. Maybe Gail enjoys throwing her q-tips away and paying rent on time. Maybe The VP of Ops should consider this the next time she leaves the cap of the toothpaste off after brushing her teeth…Cuz it looks to me like little ole’ Jimmy has got himself ANOTHER OPTION!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Jeanne Ives is the worst and this commercial confirms that…

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:

Guys, I didn’t gamble yesterday. I’m kinda proud of myself and kinda sad that I missed out on some action (I LOVE ACTION!) The plan for tonight is to get dinner with my mom and not gamble again…but, if this restaurant has TVs…well, I’ll keep you posted. Thanks for all your support during these trying times.

(My account currently at $28.21)

K bye.P

Sunday TV Binge Shows and Why Angry Wives Are So Funny (3-19-18)

OUR WORLD:

Yesterday was a day of rest for The VP of Ops and I. Perched in our assigned living room spots, me on my chair (it’s a real thing, this chair, and we’ve developed feelings…real feelings) and The VP on our couch. (While I love my chair, I will say that not being able to lay sideways on days like yesterday is something I never planned for when claiming my spot as the chair. This was a slight miscalculation on my part, but I have learned from it and plan to revisit the “assigned seat” negotiating table once we buy our next couch.)

Aside from the occasional “you okay?”-head tilt towards the other, we were busy dealing with our own Post-St. Patty’s-Day-issues. Self talk (breathe Jimmy. Wait…that’s not how breathing works! HOW DOES BREATHING WORK!?!?!) and awkward positions on your assigned living room seat is what Sundays like this are all about. How many times did you get kinda excited and think “I’m actually not that bad!” only to get up and have your brain start smashing the eject button from inside your skull. Zero? Yeah, me too. Cool cool coolio!

Anyways, we’ve all been here and aside from ordering food that’s not going to taste as good as you think it’s going to, binge watching television shows is the only tonic. For us, yesterday was “Peaky Blinders” all day, and it got me thinking…what are the best “Sleepy Sunday” binge-worthy tv shows? *This list is not BEST TV shows, it’s shows that have the ability to soothe your hangover. Maybe you’ve watched them before, but that’s okay, these shows are like your blankie or dirty old stuffed animal rabbit that you got when you were born and still sleep with (hand up).

Lets call this our “Top Sleepy Ti Ti Shows” (you know, cuz you’re sleepy and tired…SLEEPY TI TI!):

The Office: Number one with a bullet. Do I even have to say it’s the American version? I remember when news hit that they were making an American version of “The Office” and I was such a snooty film-school dick about it. “No way it can recreate the subtle moments the way Ricky Gervais did!” Pssshaw! This, my friends, is called a “wrong take”. Steve Carrell as Michael Scott is the best television character of all time (mean this a billion percent) and getting to watch the prime of this character is the chicken noodle soup of television. You know what it’s going to be, yet, somehow, you still love every second of it. (What an analogy!!! Hey! Let’s add that as a section! YOU’RE DOING IT!). *FOOD ANALOGY = CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP
The O.C.: I just wrote and then deleted the following…”I’m not even embarrassed about this pick.” That means I’m embarrassed about this pick. I blame The VP of Ops and her powerful influence over my brain for this but let me say this fellas: you watched the first couple seasons of this show when it first came out, and you loved it. DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME! NOT TODAY! NOT ON JIMMYSCHAIR! This show holds up better than you think it does. Seth is still funny. Rachel Bilson is still a babe (see guys? that’s a cool-dude thing to say. Babes.) And Ryan still pulls off the white tank look even though, according to all your research, that is not possible. Remember that super simple sandwich that was your favorite as a kid? You haven’t had one since you were 11. This show is like that sandwich. Try making one, I bet you’ll remember why you loved it. *FOOD ANALOGY = SALAMI SANDWICH ON WHITE WONDER BREAD
Parks and Rec: A close cousin to “The Office” for sure, but why should we hold that against this show? I feel like every time I bring this show up, there’s kind of a “yeah, but it’s not The Office”-cloud over it. It’s not “The Office”, but it’s almost as funny. Fat Chris Pratt > Jurassic World Chris Pratt. Can someone get Chris Pratt out of the gym because he was well on his way to being a comedy megastar. He’s fine as an action dude, but I like comedies more than action movies so…DO WHAT I SAY! Andy Dwyer is new-age Chris Farley and Nick Offerman as Ron Swanson makes you want to grow a mustache and be surly to all your co-workers. This show is a good chip. It’s not KING CHIP. It might be the same brand as KING CHIP, but it’s a different flavor. *FOOD ANALOGY = BUFFALO BLEU KETTLE CHIP’S
Friday Night Lights: Binging dramas can be difficult. This show would be higher on just a list of favorite shows of all-time, but it still places as rewatchable because Coach Taylor is my idol. I don’t even say that as a joke anymore. When we first watched it, I’d say “I wanna be Coach Taylor” to the VP with like a smirk. Like, I was sending that thought out as a trial balloon. But with distance, comes perspective and I think I actually want to become the fictional coach from “Friday Night Lights”. I would like to coach High School football in Texas. Did I play? I mean, not really, but…I like football a WHOLE BUNCH! Guys, A WHOLE BUNCH! Also, I think I can pull off the gruff, kinda moody, kinda nice, kinda mean, but..oh wait…he’s tough too-type of persona. Also, not to brag, but I pull off mid-length socks and khaki shorts like I was born in ’em. This show is truly aspirational much the way a complicated rice dish is. Much the way I think I could actually become Coach Taylor, you think you won’t fuck up the rice in that complicated, yet delicious looking rice-based dish. You will fuck up the rice. *FOOD ANALOGY = COMPLICATED RICE-BASED DISH
Arrested Development: The new seasons on Netflix don’t count. Seriously, do not tell me that “they’re actually pretty good”. I don’t believe you and I don’t care. The original first 3 seasons of this show are so damn smart and funny that they’re all that matters here. Cool thing about binging this show is that you can get through those first 3 seasons in a reasonable amount of time. It’s not going to take your life over. The most fun debate to have about this show is to ask your friends who their fave character is. The easy answer is Gob, but guess what? THAT DOESN’T MEAN IT’S WRONG! Jesus H, I’m so tired of trying to sound smarter than I actually am and picking someone other than Gob for fave character. “You see, the thing with George Michael that everyone overlooks is-“SHUT UP JIMMY! It’s Gob. Convo over. You’re not that smart. I’m aware you can make the case for Tobias, but uhhhhhhh NO. And if you even bring Michael into this arena you will be hanged at the behest of the king (me. I’m the king here. King Chair). This show is so damn funny and I’ve seen it so many times, but I still find little moments that I missed. It’s like ordering trying a new item or condiment from a fast food restaurant you go to all the time…and being impressed with it. *FOOD ANALOGY = MCDONALD’S BUFFALO SAUCE (my new KING SAUCE for Chicken Nuggy’s. Game changer, guys. Game changer.)

That’s the list.

MY WORLD:

I shaved my facial hair into a mustache this weekend because getting under The VP of Ops’ skin is really fun for me. That was the reason. I don’t think it looks good. In fact, I know it does not look good, and I’m not secure enough to try to convince people that I don’t care about that (although, I DEFINITELY did that this weekend. I got a few “it actually doesn’t look that bad”s from friends and I lied when I responded “dude, I don’t even care. I just think it’s funny.” I cared. I care.)

stache *not gonna lie, shades and stache are a solid combo

I did this a few weeks back when The VP of Ops was out of town for the weekend and my brother thought it was funny. That was fun. When the VP got back in town, she recoiled at the sight of me and my stache. I ended up shaving it before going into work that Monday because I was nervous about having to act like debuting a mustache wasn’t a big deal to me. (Oh this thing? God, I totally forgot I even had it. I don’t know..just felt like it. How do I think it looks? I don’t even care.) I’m so not that guy. (DAMNIT! CAN I PLEASE BE THAT GUY SOMEDAY? GOD? PLEASE! I WANNA BE THE “WHATEVER” GUY! THEY’RE SO COOL! NOTHING BOTHERS THEM! THEY JUST SAY “WHATEVER” AND SMOKE ANOTHER CIGARETTE!) I am, unfortunately for The VP of Ops, the “This Pisses My Wife Off, So It’s Hilarious”-guy.

It’s why I tie light jackets around my waist in the fall and early spring. Is it comfortable and convenient? Yes, of course. But, it also causes The VP to give me the side-eye and whisper something to me like “really? You’re really doing that in public next to me?” Uh….yeah babe! I’m doing this to you in public. (I like to laugh! So sue me!) It’s why I wear sunglasses that are like a 4 on the looks scale. Do I want to buy cool-guy shades from a designer that my hipster brother told me about? Yes. But then The VP wouldn’t be moderately embarrassed to introduce me-wearing my gas station hotboi shades-to a friend of hers I’d yet to meet. WHERE’S THE FUN IN THAT?!?!

Now, because I am having so much fun thinking of all the times I have done something with the primary goal being to make The VP of Ops uncomfortable/mad/embarassed at me..I will be debuting a new section to my Monday blogs from here on out. The section will be called “The Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The Vp of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable”. Look forward to a full-on story next Monday and many Monday’s from here on out. In the meantime, I look forward to brainstorming new ways to accomplish this…cuz there are like a lot of Monday’s in the future of the world AND I GOTTA GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to run through a brick wall right about now.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I just hate this fucking song. Remember when it was super popular? What the fuck was that all about?

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 to you guys, this NCAA tournament has been an unmitigated disaster for my gambling account and…life. Like, the amount of new deposits I’ve made into this account are nearing the “is this actually impacting my life”-zone. It’s scary and kind of invigorating all at the same time. I am saving my remaining balance, however, for this Thursday’s games when the tourney returns. That’s the plan at least…stay tuned.

(My account currently at $28.21)

K bye.

“The Bachelor” Recap and Excuses to Avoid The Gym

OUR WORLD:

I want to be more original than the rest of the internet today and write about something other than “The Bachelor”, but sadly, I am but a sheep unable to stray from my shepherd, Chris Harrison. Last night became an exercise in distracting myself from how YUCKO I felt watching grown women get dumped on national television with cheap jokes in text message chains. The VP of Ops told me she felt bad watching at one point early on in the show, and I snapped back that I didn’t feel bad because, as you all have hopefully learned by now, I am one tough hombre with big muscles who eats protein and NEVER APOLOGIZES!!! ARGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Like 20 minutes later, I hit the VP with a dose of original sensitivity and said that I felt bad watching this (the VP immediately reminded me that she had JUST said that and that I had shot her down. Well guess what ladypants?!?!? My feelings matter more than yours because mine are more unexpected since I’m such a big, tough, masculine protein powerhouse who only cries when 7-11 is out of chocolate Muscle Milk Pro Series 50). As painfully dull as Lauren B. is, she did seem to genuinely trick herself into falling in love with this professional DOOF. So when she walked like 18 miles down that hill, dodging Alpacas in heels along the way, only to get dunked on by Arie, guilt…creeped in. I wish I could have maniacally laughed in her face, but unless they’re true villain material (Krystal!) then I do feel bad watching a girl cry.

Okay, so we’ve established that I’m not a monster, right? Cool cool. Dude, Arie is a SAVAGE! My favorite part of this epic, “If I say I have to follow my heart, I’m a good guy, right?”-meltdown, aside from Chris Harrison’s sad face taking us to commercial breaks, was that Arie never came close to crying when he broke up with Becca. If this were me, first off, I’d probably cry because I actually am a sensitive baby (just kidding Dad, this is how I reel in all the hot babes), or if I had some sort of ocular issue blocking my tears, I would at least fake it! During the whole Becca break up scene (still going btw…Arie ain’t goin’ nowhere!) I kept thinking “Dude! At least give her a sniffle, a wipe of the eye, a bite of a quivering lip! Something! Anything! YOU LOOK LIKE A SOCIOPATH!!!

Now even though I don’t know exactly what a sociopath is (no, I will not look it up on Dictionary.com) Arie is def a sociopath. It means like “attention-whore” right? Whatever, going with it, feels right. Can you imagine breaking up with someone and then refusing to leave when they ask you to?! I’ve broken up with someone once (time to look at the empty sky and wonder “what if…”) and I literally would’ve paid her over 40 dollars for her to tell me to leave as quickly as Becca told Arie. “I broke up with you and you don’t want to talk about it and make me feel like an even bigger asshole than I already feel like? HELL TO THE FUCK YEAH!!!! k thx byeeeee”-Me. Meanwhile, Arie “Can we just talk” Lyin’Dick (that last name joke has probably been made already but I’m proud of it) awkwardly continued to stay after she asked him to leave like 90 gabillion times because….ohhhhhh, cuz he likes camera time. Yep.

That’s why he didn’t cry. I’m convinced that the only time we’ll see Arie actually cry is if he puts a GoPro on his dumb face for the moment when Chris Harrison thanks us for watching this season of “The Bachelor”. He is so obsessed with camera-time that he maneuvered a way to get an extra episode of the show. I almost respect how conniving he is. You know what kind of planning had to go into this? I imagine after the show ended, Becca would go to bed alone, probably thankful that Arie and his weird hands weren’t groping her face, and Arie would retreat to his fort in the basement with ALL of his crayons and toy race cars (They’re not toys! They’re models damnit!) so he could draw out all the ways in which he could stay on TV longer to prove to his father that he’s not a massive failure let-down (How many times do you think Arie has scream-cried “I don’t want your life!” to his race-car-legend father?)

When Arie decided that the only reason people care about Bachelor guys after their season is if they’re massive villains, that was his only route to staying relevant. (I’m legitimately gaining respect for this move the more and more I write it. Is Arie a genius?) Yes, he will be booed in the head of most women he encounters for the rest of his life, BUT, 1) there will also be the women who, just to be contrarian, will claim that they like how he “followed his heart” and 2) he will be the male version of Omarosa on reality TV for YEARS: whenever a reality show casting director needs a male villain, Arie will be the first name to pop into their head.

Meanwhile, Becca will be fine guys. Can you spare me this whole “she’s so brave!”-chant? Why is she brave? Because she got dooped by rich kid who can’t commit to a job, much less a woman for the rest of his life? Puhhhhhh-lease. Now she gets as many supportive Chris Harrison shoulder pats as she could ever want, and will probably be the next “Bachelorette”. Hey Becca, can you say hot guy parade?!?! Arie let her off the hook! What would have been worse is if she had to pretend not to be creeped out by Arie’s face-grabbing-tendencies for another 3 months until she snapped and decided that being lost at sea would be a preferable existence so she rented a boat and…just…left.

What we need is for Arie to be “The Bachelor” AGAIN. I’m not kidding. ABC should keep quiet who the next one is, only to start next season with a quick update on where Arie and Lauren are at. They’ll go to shoot at the home they just bought (with a sandbox in back cuz Lauren loves sandcastles!) and right as the update is about to end, Arie dabs right in Lauren’s face and sprints into a waiting helicopter. “Luyendyk out!” He puts on “The Bachelor” tux while in the helicopter and is dropped off right back where we started…the front door of the house as all the new girls pull up in their limos. I can already hear the new girls trying to convince their Dads that “he’s changed.”

MY WORLD:

I didn’t go to the gym yesterday because my stomach was weird and, I gotta tell ya’, there may be no feeling better than coming up with a great excuse not to go to the gym. The earlier you can discover it, the better, so you can enjoy a not-so-healthy lunch only to be followed by a, GUESS! That’s right, A-NOT-SO-HEALTHY dinner!!! “Listen, I would be working out if my stomach wasn’t so weird, but I can’t so I might as well follow Potbelly with Lou Malnati’s with some peanut M&Ms as a snack in between cuz I needed a happy boost on this gray gray day!”-Me to me all day yesterday.

Now, because I’m here not just for me, but for US, I wanted to provide some excuses to get out of going to the gym that don’t make you feel as Arie should have felt but doesn’t cuz, remember, he is now “Arie-rosa” (Arie/Omarosa mash-up. Try to keep up, this blog’s jokes wait for no one.)

1) “I worked out over 4 times last week, so my body needs to recover and if I take time off, the shock of the return will actually burn more calories than if I had gone everyday.” This is a real gem (god, I love complimenting myself on my blog. ME!) If you’re fatter, you burn more cals so…getting a lil chub chub actually makes your next workout that much more impactful. Listen guys, who burns more calories when walking up a flight of stairs, Michael Phelps or your fat Uncle Terry?

2) “My spouse has to work late so I have to pretend to be mad that I can no longer go to the gym because I have to be the one to take our dog out.” Classic Jimmy-move here. The VP of Ops will call me later in the day, right before I’m about to head to that purple, judgement-free hell-hole of a gym (Planet Fitness? More like Planet ItsaMess…k, not my best). She’ll tell me that she’s not going to be able to get home until later so I need to let our Princess Belle out before she makes a tee tee poo poo on the priceless rug I kinda’ stole from my parents garage. I’ll probably exhale on the phone and go quiet cuz I’m a graduate of The University of Pout, but really, I’m kinda excited that I get to put off sweating next to a stranger who thinks wearing cologne in Planet Fitness is a good way to make friends.

3) “Weather.” Raining? Roads are slippery. Snowing? Roads are slippery. Fog? Can’t see the roads (which are probably slippery). Wind? Car might blow over. Sun? Sun burns guys and I don’t wear sun block because I’m not a high schooler with no friends (been there, done that). Cold? Car might freeze OR my leg muscles won’t be able to fire properly and I can’t afford to risk injury when I need my body to go to work and earn an income to pay for The VP of Ops’ insatiable appetite for rare jewels and craft mayonnaise.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

People who wear cologne or perfume to the gym.

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT PROBABLY WON’T WIN:

There’s good news and bad news. The bad news? Yesterday’s Milwaukee pick lost by 3 when the line was (+2.5). The good news? I didn’t realize the game was at 6 Eastern Time SO I COULDN’T MAKE THE BET IN TIME! THAT’S BASICALLY A WIN GUYS! MY FORTUNE’S HAVE OFFICIALLY TURNED! Seriously, if that’s not a sign that I’m back, I don’t know what is.

Tonight’s moneymaker is Denver (-5) over those stanky Mavericks.

(My account currently at $44.28)

K bye.

Dream Foods and TV Show Resurrections (3/1/2018)

MY WORLD:

When I used to wait tables there was a waitress, Sharon, who would ALWAYS talk to me about how, one day, she was going to reach a point in her life where she’d just eat whatever she wanted all the time. I used to hope that I would someday reach such guilt-free recklessness with my diet. Forget financial stability, finding a lifelong companion, or making a positive impact on ANYBODY else. THIS (being an unapologetic fatso) was an achievable goal! “DAD! I’M GONNA BE SOMEBODY!”

This achievement continues to allude me. Yesterday, I ate a medium-sized bag of peanut butter stuffed pretzels (MAJOR YUMMO ALERT) and had to immediately resort to “it’s okay, Jimmy, you ran yesterday and had to deal with a moderately annoying client today”-self talk. The path towards happy-chubba-bubba-land is lined with unflattering pictures, “bad angles” and magazines that use something called an airbrush that I, A) do not know what the H it is, and B) DO NOT HAVE FUCKING ACCESS TO. Brave little soldier that I am, I continue the climb.

I got a little chubby like 2 years ago (not huge, but I’m short so I went from short-normal to sturdy mini-fridge). I had been working a job I hated, and medicated with chips, heavy beers and NOT going to the gym (I reached a point where I had convinced myself that not going to the gym was good for me to do because the successful writers I read would always talk about how out of shape they were. It was a blissful delusion). I had run a marathon the year prior and decided that running that far in one day would keep me thin for the rest of my life.

My weight slowly rose according to the buttons on the waist of my pants (“We lost a lot of men that winter”–The story of Jimmy’s Winter 2015 Pants Buttons). The decision had been made that I was a 31 waist for the rest of my life, so buying bigger pants was out of the question (if you can squeeze into them, they fit). I remember sitting in my car, looking down at my thighs and thinking they were going to explode through my pants at any second. It would be like when you rip open that cardboard tube of pillsbury biscuits and you almost hear the dough thank you on it’s way out. Bending over was out of the question (if I had discovered a solid gold bar on the ground, I would have had to debate whether trying to bend down was worth risking the last pair of 31 pants that had yet to bust).

Times were so dark that not only did I go pants shopping….not only did I go pants shopping at Old Navy….but I went pants shopping at Old Navy, bought size 34 pants AND got silently mad at the VP of Operations when she referred to Old Navy’s measurements as “vanity sizing”. If you don’t know what “vanity sizing” means (I did not, and I wish I never had…stop reading if you’re where I was in 2015…this is about to ruin the dark, twisted fantasy that you’re living in) it’s basically a lie. “Vanity Sizing” means that an Old Navy 34 is a real life, like 36-ish. Chubbos like 2015 me go in to Old Navy, buy size 34 pants and tell the people around them that “it’s not that bad!” I don’t understand how companies can lie about MEASURABLE statistics, but I also don’t hate that Old Navy has done so successfully.

My wedding and some VERY unfortunate pictures shamed me back into the gym.

16473131_10201663227679896_4023888885178204911_n — Bad long hair and a striking double chin.

I’ve gotten back into running and size 32/33 pants (acceptable…I was kinda’ lying when I said 31s earlier. I fit into a pair of 31s for like a week after college. It was V cool.) But unhealthy food is SO EFFING GOOD that chubby Jimmy is always lurking in the snack aisles, and he CAME OUT TO PLAY yesterday.

My thing now is that I’ll eat healthy Monday-Thursday. Friday is a “sure I’ll have a sandwich and chips” day, then Saturday and Sunday I take a heavenly dumpster dive into the world of pizza and fries (if baby Jesus doesn’t hand me a plate of fries on my way into heaven, I’m turning RIGHT BACK AROUND IN HIS FUCKING FACE). So Monday-Thursday, I eat pretty much the same thing: Banana and whole wheat english muffin for breakfast (nana and muffy!), a protein bar and small bag of nuts for lunch, workout, then ONE beer with a dinner consisting of a meat and veggie.

Yesterday, though, I went into an account that had a big bag of Salt and Vinegar Kettle chips sitting behind the bar (I sell beer which means I’m in my car, a bar, or a grocery store pretty much all day. I cannot escape carbs). I was supposed to be convincing this bar owner that he should carry the beer I sell, and all I could do was stare at this bag of Salt and Vins (Salt and Vinegar Kettle Chips are my KING CHIP. I recently did a Top Ten Chip List with my friends and these wear the crown).

When I went into Walgreens to buy my protein bar, almonds and water I lusted for the chip section (it’s a naughty place…and I’m a naughty boy). I refused to directly pass the chip aisle for fear of not coming out alive. So I got to the “nutrition” aisle of walgreens and bought my clay-flavored protein slab. However, Walgreens did a nasty thing and moved peanut butter stuffed pretzels directly next to the nuts section. I walked by the pretzels and, literally, gasped. I’m not joking, I sucked air in as if to say “oh my my”. After shooting a few flirty smirks and eyebrow raises towards these lil’ cuties, I composed myself enough to grab my small bag of plain almonds and continue playing “hard to get” with these nasty babies (peanut butter stuffed pretzels, Jimmy. They’re peanut. butter. stuffed. pretzels. Jesus).

38 minutes later I pulled into the next Walgreens I saw, bought a bag of peanut butter stuffed pretzels and ate the entire bag in my car, panting like a malnourished dog the entire time.

As I sat in traffic on the drive home, all I could think about were those fucking Old Navy pants. Like I would get home and hear them chuckling in my closet. I bargained that I could make up for those wasted calories by working out harder than I planned and not drinking my ONE beer that night. TIP: Negotiating calories with yourself is something fun to do when you’re alone in your car during rush hour whilst thinking about opening the door to roll your fat ass under the biggest wheel of the oncoming Ford Astrovan.

If I could eat anything I wanted during the week without any of this psychological shrapnel, I’d probably go:

Breakfast: Breakfast Sandy–bacon, egg and cheese on a poppyseed bagel.

Lunch: A fried buffalo chicken wrap and fries.

Snack: Salt & Vinegar Kettle Chips…maybe a York peppermint paddy for that FRESH BREATH!

Dinner: Pepperoni Pizza. Duh.

Dessert: Ice-cream cookie (chocolate chip) sandwich.

What do you think of that, Sharon?

P.S. I drank a beer last night. Fuck it.

OUR WORLD:

“Will & Grace” and “Roseanne” are either back, or about to be back, on tv and it has me a-thinkin’. I’m not really a fan of either of those two shows because….uh….I don’t know, but I’m not. I would, however, like to see the following shows make a similar return (also, if you haven’t seen these…uh….stop being a stupid idiot and watch them):

“Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip”: Not many people remember this show because it came out the same year, on the same channel, directly after “30 Rock”. A 60-minute drama written by Aaron Sorkin about the world of a show like “Saturday Night Live”. Young, funny people with drug habits who are given fame and fortune = television gold. This show lasted one season THAT I LOVED. Sure, the comedy sketches within the show could have been better, but spitting on a show that featured Bradley Whitford reciting Sorkin lines is a DANGEROUS PROPOSITION my friends. This was like a candied version of “West Wing” and if you don’t like candy you can get the hell out.

“Oz”: This is a Bill Simmons-take that I couldn’t agree with more. I used to watch this show when I was in early-high school and it absolutely cemented me ranking “Going to Prison” as my number one fear in life. (I have had heated conversations with friends about how I would rather be dropped into the middle of the ocean with a bloody leg). “Oz” had super bad bad guys (J.K. Simmons can never pull off “cuddly, suburban dad” since this show) and V cool kinda bad guys (the All-State commercial guy is cool…but bad…but cool). Prison storylines on HBO are endless, so round up some Milennials to play new bad bad guys and V cool kinda bad guys, and you have a hit on your hands. If you cannot tell yet, I did have to go to film school to learn these terms of analysis. I’m working with a big toolbox here, guys.

“Friday Night Lights”: This show, more than any show in the history of television, just needs to go on forever. I think I had crushes on every single character at one-point throughout the show’s run. I grew my hair out to try to look like Tim Riggins (note: simply wishing you had movie-star hair does not give you movie-star hair). I bought the sunglasses thingy (crokeys?) that Coach Taylor wore around the back of his neck. I was nicer to my grandparents because Saracen was a so nice to his grammy. I think the reason I tell people I would move to Texas is because of this show (Austin is like too popular to be cool now, right? So, I have to be into like San Antonio?) This show makes you a better person. (Cue somber music…look at yourself in the mirror…you need to be better). Aside from making you a better person, we can all agree that while Kyle Chandler and Taylor Kitsch should be absolutely THROATING the box office, they are not and most likely (DUE TO NO FAULT OF THEIR OWN) never will. Therefore, I propose a new Hollywood rule: if a SMASH television show ends, but no one on the cast solidifies him or herself as a bonafide movie star in the 5 years following the show’s end, the entire cast must return to the show that made them stars for the rest of their lives. Deal? Good.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

American people who pronounce “Bruschetta”, Broo-sket-ah.

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT PROBABLY WON’T WIN:

Here’s the deal, guys. I’m having a REAL hard time. I place bets with two other dudes so that we’re always in the same boat. Ride or die guys. Unfortch, my picks have been EPICALLY HORRENDOUS since football season. Therefore, while I wrote yesterday that I wanted to pick the Celts (-7), I had to cede control of my bet to one of my Ride or Die guys; and he picked Villanova (-6) over Seton Hall.

Villanova won by 1 on OT. Celtics won by more than 20. Cool. V cool.

Needless to say, I am RATTLED.

Tonight, I hope to go with…oh sweet jesus PLEASE GIVE ME A WINNER…Cavs (-3) over Philly.

(My account currently at $3.49…I only make a deposit when I hit $0.00)

K bye.