Stripper Prank and “Isle of Dogs” Review (4/11/18)

MY WORLD:

Last week, I put this picture up on Instagram of an all-male Australian stripper group (we’re dancers, Jimmy! We dance!) named “Thunder from Down Under”.

Thunder-300x210

At first blush, this seems like your typical Australian stripper group promo photo (you know, just like all the rest that we all see in our normal everyday lives…guys?…hello?) However, upon closer examination (I’m not blushing! Stop! Omg guys! Stop!), one of these no-doubt WILDLY TALENTED ENTERTAINERS, the second one from the right to be exact, bears a striking resemblance to…

ME! THAT DUDE’S FACE LOOKS LIKE ME! I understand you not picking this up at first glance on account of his rather scrawny arms and the lack of photogenic charisma that I exude in every photo…but, the face DEF kinda’ looks like me. (Nobody make a joke about how my jawline is nowhere near as chiseled as his…I’M WORKING ON IT!)

Why am I choosing to talk about this now? I’m glad you asked; these pictures were sent to me early on in my relationship with The VP of Ops and are the focal point of today’s edition of “A Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The VP of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable”. Let’s take a trip back to the fall of 2013.

The VP of Ops and I were about 4 months into THE GREATEST LOVE SHE WILL EVER KNOW! Actually, she had just recently accepted the fact that we were dating and I was her “boyfriend” after 3.5 months of getting mad at me anytime I referred to our “relationship” (This is real btw…for like 3+ months she refused to admit that we were in a relationship. Stressful? THAT’S GONNA BE A YES, DAWG!) Anyway, it was a Friday night and I was chillin’ wit’ my main bros (cool guy talk) at the apartment we shared. The VP was at a friend of hers and I was definitely not secretly worried that she was hanging out with work-friend Mike because I was ALWAYS secure in our relationship. Did I LOVE that work-friend Mike wore a gold chain and talked about all the women he had been with? Look, I’m not here to talk about the past (fuck work-friend Mike…)

So there I am, hanging with my good friend Angry Dave (because he gets angry and it’s kinda funny but kinda serious at the same time!) and definitely not stewing about The VP and work-friend Mike. Probably after our third beer of the early evening (cool guy stuff cont.) I got a text OUT OF THE BLUE from an old friend-girl. Her name is something like Meghan or CouldNeverGetOverJimmyAndHisInfectiousPersonality, I can’t remember; but she texted me a picture…THE picture. She was in the Las Vegas airport and noticed a picture of hot guys so, naturally, she gave it a closer look. Upon said inspection, she noticed that one of the strapping Aussies looked like me and HAD to text me about it.

I showed Angry Dave the texts and after a few laughs and chest bumps and jamo shots (cool. guy. stuff. overload.) Angry Dave came up with a FANTASTIC idea. “You should send picture to The VP and just not say anything!” [EXPLOSION SOUNDS] However, because hanging out with guy friends means that you always need to one-up the last one’s joke, I decided to go a little further…and try to convince The VP that the picture was part of my dark past that I had yet to have to courage to fully explain to her. Like giddy little giddy-babies, Angry Dave and I huddled around my cellular telephone device.

God, I wish I saved the following texts, but the first one I sent to The VP that night, was along the lines of “Hey…Can we talk? Something has been eating away at me…” It took her like 4 minutes to respond, probably because she LOVED playing text games, but she finally shot back:

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, there’s just something I’ve been embarrassed about telling you for a while.”

[after her customary 4 minute wait] “What is it?”

“It’s really not THAT bad, but please don’t laugh…” And then I sent the picture. First, of the whole group, and then of the close-up of AussieJimmy.

“No way.”

“It was when I was in L.A. and I only did it for a little while, but…yeah. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I was embarrassed and I didn’t know how to bring it up. Just had to get it out.”

(WAIT)

“I’m so sorry.”

“Really…I’m so sorry. I really care about you and don’t want this to get in the way.”

And with that, I effectively ruined The VP’s Friday night. At this point, Angry Dave and I were howling laughing; like, the kind of laughing where we were running in place while re-reading the text exchange over and over and over again. The VP had gone dark. She was at her girlfriend’s place and, years later, she told me that her girlfriend was telling her that she had to break up with me. Evidently, dating a fake-Australian stripper was something that The VP’s reputation couldn’t withstand. The VP says she wasn’t crying, but was kinda’ close and very confused. She’ll tell you now that she thought it was “probably a joke,” but you don’t go dark on texts the way she did that night if you think it’s a prank.

I imagine she got the texts, started laughing and then showed her girlfriend. Once her girlfriend saw, and my subsequent “I’m so sorry” texts came through, she probably tried to force more laughter, but her friend noticed The VP’s eyes were welling up with tears. Her friend probably said something like “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay.” The VP then shook her head and wiped away her tears while saying “it’s so stupid, I don’t even know why I’m crying! I’m sure he’s joking. I’m sure he’s joking.” Then, she got the next couple “I’m so sorry texts” and probably started discussing realistic next steps with her friend. I’m POSITIVE she said “You’re right. I have to break up with him” during her text-blackout.

Now, I’m not going to lie (because I’m honest to my good good friends) there were times during this 45-minute text-blackout that I almost sent a “jk lol omg” text. We were an established relationship at this point, but she did possess about 97% of the power in this relationship, so this was a risky move. Angry Dave was a calming influence; telling me to “stay the course” every time he saw me get quiet and slowly raise my phone into proper text-message position. “Not yet!”-he would say. I adhered because it WAS funny and…he was bigger than me and I didn’t want him to get Angry (quick sidenote: Angry Dave now dates Mean Allie. It’s the most perfectly terrifying combination in the history of couples…and Mean Allie is gonna be SO MAD about her nickname that guess what kind of text I’ll get from her later today? A mean one.)

At about minute 46 of this standoff, I called The VP. She let it ring like 7 times because that’s what the moment called for, and then answered with a scared “Hey…” I told her that I was joking. Angry Dave was kinda’ annoyed that I didn’t let it last until the morning, but not full-on Angry, so I was safe. The VP laughed it off like she was never worried, but she was…oh, she most definitely was. Then she hung up and went back to hanging out with her girlfriend. And I went back to hanging out with Angry Dave, but only thinking about how work-friend Mike may be meeting up with The VP later WITH HIS STUPID FUCKING GOLD CHAIN AND GELLED-UP HAIR.

OUR WORLD:

Last night, The VP and I saw “Isle of Dogs”. We had wanted to see “A Quiet Place”, but it was sold out. Was I secretly relieved that “A Quiet Place” was sold-out because it looks scary and I don’t like scary movies? You better believe it buddy! Plus, “Isle of Dogs” had an awesome trailer and I liked the last Wes Anderson movie about the hipsters in the hotel. (Googling the actual name of the Hipster Hotel movie…) “The Grand Budapest Hotel”.

“Isle of Dogs” was the definition of cute, but nothing more. The animation visuals were interesting, but movies are all about story (film-school grad talk) and this story did not have enough surprises to hold my interest. The easiest test for whether you actually enjoy a movie is to go see one on a Tuesday night at 8PM. If you find yourself getting excited about going home to get to bed at any point during the movie, it’s not a great flick. About 40 minutes in to “Isle of Dogs” I was marinating in extended yawns and trying to remember where I left my sleep sweatpants.

It wasn’t bad, but you spend half the movie in your head trying to figure out what celeb is the voice of what dog. The laughs in the movie were never full-blown guttural laughs, but more soft chuckles. And, the twists were pretty expected and underwhelming. I know it was animated, but I figured that Wes Anderson wouldn’t make me feel like I was watching a kids movie (I’M A MAN!) Unfortunately, I kinda’ felt like I was watching a kids movie with a bunch of adults who settled on this movie only after finding out that “A Quiet Place” was sold out.

Best part of the experience? The trailer for this summer’s Mr. Roger’s documentary “Won’t You Be My Neighbor”. Loved this show as a kid and thought about how much better of a person I should be when watching this trailer. Can’t wait!

Worst part of the experience? The overwhelming fake butter smell coming from The VP’s DRENCHED bag of popcorn.

Best part of the movie? Ed Norton voicing a nerdy dog. How has he not been in a live-action fantastic movie lately? GET ON IT, HOLLYWOOD!

Worst part of the movie? A second act that dragged on about 12 minutes too long. Yawn-o-rama.

My official review? I’m going to give it 6.5 out of 10 Chairs. (If somebody knows how to insert chair graphics and wants to do it for me, let me know!)

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I may have posted this before, but I don’t care. I can’t remember the last time I was more excited for a documentary. GIVE ME JUNE NOW!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Sarah Huckabee Sanders and her “I’m never not annoyed with everything and everyone”-face. Ugh.

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 still basking in the glow of my big Masters win. I’m guessing I’ll get back into the gambling ring tomorrow night when I have a work event at a bar in front of TVs. Starting to think NBA playoffs and…am I the only one who things Milwaukee could upset the Sixers in round one? The Sixers are becoming the classic overhyped underdog team that will lose early.

(My account currently at $256.83)

K bye.

Car Crash Fall-Out (3/9/2018)

MY WORLD:

While waiting for the estimate for my repairs in the work lounge of the Glenview, Chevy Dealership, I texted Fred, the guy who hit me. Yesterday, I nicknamed this guy “Cryface McFlatBrim”, but I’m going to call him Fred today because A) “Cryface McFlatBrim” is kind of a lame joke that I’m not proud of, and B) His name is Fred. (Wait, he’s going to call someone by their name? No snappy nickname? WELL, WHY THE FUCK AM I EVEN READING THIS?!?!)

While I didn’t delve too deep into it yesterday, Fred told me that he was driving his wife, Gail’s car to drop their daughter off at a nearby city college. Gail, unlike fuckin’-ruining-my-morning-Fred, does have a license and car insurance. I took down all of this info but, probably sensing that his wife would give him a harder pankin’ than any future fellow inmate, Fred insisted I contact him with repair costs so he could pay out of pocket and keep this all hidden from his wife. Fred did not seem to understand that Gail may start asking questions once she saw the hood of her car looking like a boy scout tent. According to my calculations, Fred is not a planner.

Now sitting in the work lounge, I texted Fred to see if he’d respond. I didn’t trust my handwriting, so I wanted to confirm all of Gail’s car insurance info with him confirming some of her information. But really, I wanted confirmation that I had just been taken advantage of by a bad driver with a good cry reflex. No one would be mad at me for letting this dude go. In fact, I’d tell the story full-well-knowing that I’d be portrayed as the real victim; a softie who got taken advantage of. (Awwww, Jimmy’s so cute.) Paying for the repairs out of my pocket would only enhance my victim-ness, creating even more sympathy for myself whenever I’d tell this story. My cynical suspicions were confirmed.

Until he texted me back 8 minutes later. (Well, he still won’t live up to his word. Listen Fred, I’ve already written the end of this story in my head.) He confirmed Gail’s car insurance information, but again insisted that I call him once I get the estimate so he can pay out of pocket. He tells me “I work for GM I make a 1000$ a week I will pay u.” (Shit, this guy makes more than me?) I almost texted him back to just stop texting me now so I don’t get my hopes up that he’s going to follow through on his word.

Stevey Eyebrows, the manager of the body shop, comes to get me in the lounge. (Wait, is Jimmy Nicknames back?!?! MOM! JIMMY NICKNAMES IS BACK!) Steve tells me that the oil change went well (do they sometimes not?). He hands over a few sheets of paper and says “you may want to sit down when you go over the estimate” before pretending he was too busy to sit with me. Hey Steve, ever heard of being a shoulder to cry on? (Dear Steve’s Wife, you don’t have to live like this.)

Alone and afraid, I read through the estimate. Yomma momma. $1,100. I took a picture of the estimate and texted it to Fred. He responded “For tour bumber”. Yes Fred, “for tour bumber”. I reminded him that my car is leased and that they need to replace the bottom part of the “tour bumber” (it’s not mean to make fun of spelling because he has an iPhone and, therefore, HAD to have overridden autocorrect because he was POSITIVE that it was “bumber” and not “bumper”). Then the texts went silent for a little bit.

I paid for my oil change and confirmed with Stevey “My Shoulder is not for your Tears” Eyebrows that my car was drivable. It was. I got in my car, eager to call my parents and friends to tell them how hard my life is. (I’d end all the convos with something like “not that big of a deal” so they’d think I was extra tough. Can’t knock this sturdy boy down! Oh, also…please help me.) Then Fred called.

“You mean to tell me that your bumper is gonna cost me $1,100? I’m going to need you to mail me that estimate” is how he started off the convo. In my book, that’s known as “instigating”. Sometimes when I’m put in situations that are about to require confrontation, I’ll channel my father; a 64 year-old hard-ass psycho who I’ll be afraid of forever. So I did that. Top of my lungs, not screaming, angry yelling that Fred is “fucking nuts if you think I’m trying to take you for a ride. What? You think I forged an estimate sheet just to text you a picture of it?!” I reminded him, in a not-so-gentle-way, that the reason I let him go was because he was crying hysterically. His voice raised to say that he “barely hit me” and that “this just doesn’t sound right.” As I took a deep inhale to unleash absolute-fuck-you-Fred-fury, I heard another voice on his end.

“Sir?” It was a tough, older woman. “My name is Gail. I own the car that hit you. Thank you for letting my husband go. We are going to pay for your damages. We just don’t have $1,100 in the bank.” Shit. Did they just pull a fliparooski? Am I a bad guy now cuz I yelled at a poor, older woman? (No Jimmy, all good guys in movies have that scene where they scream at homeless grandmas. Moron.) Maybe because she pulled off an immaculate fliparooski on me or just because she had a calming mom-voice (nothing better), but I liked this woman. I apologized for getting so heated at her husband and explained what had happened earlier. She thanked me for trusting that they’d follow through, and told me to go through her insurance. “That’s what insurance is for” is exactly the kind of thing my mom would say, Gail must’ve known that. I told her that I appreciated her (NOT FRED!) and that I only wanted to deal with her from there on out. She gave me her phone number.

I went back into the body shop and went over how best to file the claim through her insurance. (As an adult male, I’m aware that I should probably know how to do this, but I don’t. I bet I know stuff you don’t know, so like…just chill.) I needed her to file the claim before I did because that’s what Steve said and Steve knows. So I texted my new pal Gail how she should go about doing this. For entertainment purposes in this story (lawyers don’t read blogs, right?), maybe I said Gail was driving the car. MAYBE IS NOT A DEFINITELY! THIS IS ENTERTAINMENT! (“It is?” would be such a sick burn). I sent the text and headed off to work.

Thing was, I didn’t really know Gail. She told me what I wanted to hear, but I was still careening down poop-river without a paddle, and it had been 38 minutes without a response to my text. “Oh, you think mom-voice is gonna get you off the hook? Check this out Gail!” I shot over a kinda’ threat (was definitely a threat) saying “just so you know I have recorded our phone calls and saved our text message exchanges. I will use them if I am forced to report this to the police.” I’M A MAN! I AM STRONG!

My phone rang immediately. Evidently, Gail didn’t want to respond to my initial text because she was driving. She sternly told me not to threaten her. “Don’t do that”-then hung up on me as I started to backtrack. Well shit. Always a bummer when the tough-guy routine backfires (wait, you actually DO want to go outside and fight? Uhhhh…just kidding! LOL!)

A couple hours passed. I did my job, figuring I’d file a claim with her insurance company a little later, that she’d then deny and…I’d just suck it up and pay the damages. I wasn’t happy or mad. I didn’t feel good for basically getting a guy out of jail. It just felt like a reminder that everyone’s life is hard and, sometimes, you have to do selfish things in order to get by. I understood Gail. If I were in a little tougher financial position, would I bail on something like this if it were the other way around? Maybe. I’d feel SUPER guilty, but…maybe.

Gail called me at 3:09 PM. She told me that she had to retire due to a heart condition and that my threat-text had made her a nervous wreck. (Threats are not chill!) I apologized sincerely, and explained to her that I had put a lot of faith in a couple that lives in another state and that I’m not exactly made of money. I told her that Fred was not my friend, and she started laughing. “Oh, he’s keeping his distance from me. He knows I’m pissed at his dumb ass. I called you because I filed a claim with my insurance company saying everything you said happened. I don’t care if he has to work a hundred extra shifts, he’s gonna pay me back for this.” We laughed together cuz Fred really does suck! We talked about how long Fred is going to have to be her personal servant for at least two weeks. “Two weeks? More like two years!” Gail rules, guys. She didn’t know Fred took the car that morning and, supposedly, has told him multiple times to stop driving without a license.

I apologized again because I can’t believe I threatened an innocent older woman with a heart condition (writing that out made me feel worse.) Gail reminded me that “this is what insurance is for” (swoon) and that her daughter, a nurse they were visiting, also leases her car. I kinda but most definitely welled up. After thanking her for dealing with me in an honest way, I told her to call me next time she was visiting the city so I could take her (NOT FRED!) out for a beer. “Oh, honey, I will most definitely do that!” was the absolute perfect response.

I don’t know if I’ll get the money or if the insurance company will pull legal tricks or maybe Fred will convince Gail that getting out of this situation is worth a little short-term guilt. But, I really like Gail. I hope she comes back to Chicago sometime (BUT NOT FRED) and I get to buy her that beer. Fuck cynicism. Take a chance and maybe you’ll get to drink a beer with a new friend. Offer stands forever, Gail.

OUR WORLD:

It’s Friday!

Honestly, it took me a very long time to write the ‘My World” section today and now I need to shower before I go to work (ooooo dirty boy!)

HAPPY FRIYAY!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Yes, there’s an ad at the beginning of this video, but I am a new Khalid fan and feel V COOL about liking a young R&B guy.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The face your dog makes when you leave in the morning.

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 ACTUALLY WON 2 OF THE 3 BETS I PICKED YESTERDAY!!! I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THAT BECAUSE IT DID NOT GO AS WELL.

Today? Alabama, Kentucky and Xavier against the spread.

(My account currently at $0.00…i said i didn’t want to talk about it)

K bye.