Tag: funny

When Do We Get To Stop Lying? (7/11/18)

MY WORLD:

Last night The VP and I didn’t know what to do for dinner so we walked around the corner to some Mexican joint we’ve walked pass no less than ten hundred trillion times.  It’s on a busy, shitty street and neither of us had ever heard of anyone who had tried it before so it had been easy to overlook.  But whatever, we couldn’t make a decision so we chose the path of least resistance, figuring, how bad could it be?

And then we ate there and it was bad (what a story, Jimmy!!!  Keep up this writing thing! Riveting stuff!)  The server was not good at her job; giving The VP an “I don’t know” when asked whether the enchiladas were spicy.  As a former server myself, I’m allowed to pick on them now, and this lady was awful.  If you went to a doctor and asked what your treatment would entail, and she responded “I don’t know,” you’d find another doctor.  So, off the bat, I was pissed that this woman couldn’t even fake pretending to be competent at her job.  Then the food came.

It wasn’t the kind of bad where you can’t touch it, but more the type where you’re really hungry so you keep eating and saying “it’s fine,” to each other.  If you ever want to feel like a dog willing to eat whatever is put in your bowl, try going to a mediocre Mexican restaurant where the only dinner conversation that’s allowed are the words “it’s fine.”  (Does Belle say “it’s fine” every morning while eating that stale kibble from the giant plastic bag?  Well, that’s because she can’t talk because she is a dog.)  

When we finished, I went up to pay and our server asked how everything was.  And this is what sparked what I wanted to write about this morning (finally!  You sure you don’t want to blather on for another 3 paragraphs?!?!) I told the server that “it was good!”  I even put an emphasis on the word “good” where I made myself sound excited when I said it.  She smiled and I tipped her over 20% because of 33 year-old guilt complexes ONLY.  But it made me feel like a dirty fucking liar.  Why did I owe it to this stranger who couldn’t have been trying less at her job to make her feel like she and her place of employment earned my money?  It’s like letting your dog up on the bed when she whines, or giving a kid a cookie when he starts to cry; simply reinforcing bad behavior.

I think there are a lot of sanctimonious people who love telling anyone with ears that they “never lie.”  Well, I’d like to call that bluff.  If these people “never lie,” then are they telling their 16 year-old waiter at the local Italian restaurant that their meatballs sucked ass?  Because if you tell him they were good, you’re a liar.  I don’t support conflating “being nice” with lying; these are mutually exclusive terms.  The manner in which your honesty reveals itself, is when we can determine whether you’re nice or not.  If I would’ve said “the food sucked. I hated the way you performed your job, and your hair is dumb” it would’ve been honest, but not nice.  However, who is arguing that I’m a dick if I would’ve said “the enchiladas were cold, and the service could’ve been more helpful”?  (Uh, I’m arguing that.)  Isn’t that constructive criticism that could, ultimately, help this restaurant?    (Please support Dickhead Jimmy’s crusade to save the shitty restaurants of the world!!!)

As we walked home, The VP could probably feel me stewing (were you grinding?  Well then how could she feel you?) I definitely said “you know what? That was not good” a few times, as if to atone for my recent LIE.  The VP, sensing that I was on the verge of some rant that she didn’t feel like placating, simply agreed and changed the subject quickly (which explains why you’re dumping it on the readers today.  Thanks Jimmy!)  But, I’m tired of the white lies.  I’M SICK OF EM!  Am I also sick of my cowardice taking over too many times in order to avoid a somewhat awkward, albeit honest, interaction with a stranger? Yeah, that too.  Here are some other “white lie” situations that leave me feeling like a dirty fucking liar afterwards:

Whenever I thank and tip an Uber driver whose car smells like a lumberjack’s armpit and drives like he’s auditioning to be “Car Crash Victim #7” in the next “Mission Impossible” movie.

Is there a worse feeling in the entire universe than getting into an Uber, closing the door and then having your nostrils flare as you realize “oh no, I’m in a smelly car”?  (There are worse feelings, but g’head make your point!)  If your car is your livelihood and you work in a tip-based industry, wouldn’t you want to make sure that your car doesn’t make your customers want to vomit?  I used to chalk it up to a “who gives a fuck?”-attitude on the part of the driver, but now I’m convinced that they just don’t know that their car smells like ass because NOBODY has the stones to tell them.  The driver has simply become immune to the chronic B.O. smell of their car and is none the wiser thanks to cowardly passengers such as myself.

Then there are the drivers who dart in and out of lanes while mixing in the occasional seatbelt check of a slam on the brakes.  Here’s a deal: if I have bruises across my chest from the hard stops of an Uber driver, the ride is free.  Do drivers like this end up saving any meaningful amount of time?  I’m convinced that they simply raise the blood pressure of every driver around them while saving POSSIBLY 9 seconds on total drive time.  Traffic is death: there’s no escaping it. (Wow, deep.)  

Whenever I’m in either of these types of Ubers-or both at the same time!-I end up just grumbling to myself or The VP the entire ride, only to thank the driver on my way out of the car and give him/her the standard “I’m not looking at my phone” Uber tip.  This is why these drivers drive like this, guys!  THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING!  If I would take the time to tell the Uber driver that the smell of his car reminded me of a high-school mathematician convention (Nerd B.O. is the most pungent), he/she may think “oh, maybe I should get my car cleaned or, at least, make sure I drive with the windows open.”  Even if I left a bad review under the “stanky car, cranky driver” reason, that would surely help.  If we all band together we can put an end to this epidemic!  FOLLOW ME! FOLLOW ME TO FREEDOM!

Whenever I talk about how my life is going to my grandfather.

I’m sure Grandpa Irv doesn’t want to hear about my struggles with staying away from sugar and drinking too much, but telling him everything is “really good” is depriving him the chance to impart some wisdom of his.  (Is that sarcastic?) No, that’s not sarcasm.  I’ve been thinking about how every time I’m around my grandpa, I answer every question he asks about my life by starting with “it’s really good, actually.”  Uh, that’s a lie.  Everything isn’t bad, but isn’t everyone creeped out with the person in their life who ALWAYS says that EVERYTHING is going GREAT?  Does that mean my grandpa is secretly creeped out by me? (Yes!) I’m imagining him going home with his girlfriend-yeah, he has a girlfriend-and being like “isn’t it creepy how Jimmy says that everything in his life is ‘really good’?  He must be doing drugs or just plain stupid.”  I bet his girlfriend nods along in agreement and they go to sleep thinking I’m some sort of simpleton.  THIS IS AN UNMITIGATED DISASTER!

If I were my grandpa, I’d go into these grandkid hang sessions somewhat excited about getting to share some of the knowledge I’d gained from being around for so long.  The way I can try to steer my younger brothers from mistakes I made, he could steer me away from potential adulthood missteps that he took.  But you can’t give advice to someone who only insists that everything is “really good, actually.”  He could press me on it, but what a waste of energy that is.  He’s probably like, “fine, you don’t want my advice, I don’t need to give it.  Have fun in that one bedroom apartment on the west side!”  Maybe if I was honest and told him that I’m worried about providing for a family while trying to pay off some preposterous student loans, he’d enlighten me with some comforting words.  Maybe he was in his 30s when he founded his carpet business that ended up paving the way for the comfortable life he has been able to lead?  Maybe he could light the spark for me to take some risks that I’m too afraid to take now?  But no, I’m content with little white lies about my life so as not to burden him with problems that aren’t his own.

That being said, there is the off-chance that I’m totally honest with him the next time we’re together and it causes him to back away from the table making “yuck” sounds before saying “good luck with all of that!”  It’s a risk I am simply too insecure to take.  But like, hey Grandpa, if you’re reading this and want to send me an inspirational e-mail, that’d be VV chill of you.

Whenever I talk to or about little babies…to anyone. 

I’m just lying the entire time I’m talking about little babies.  I’m talking like when they’re real new babies, I don’t know how to talk about them.  They all look basically the same, aside from some have hair and some don’t, and all they do is cry and poop and move some of their fingers sometimes.  Which parent does he/she look like?  I never have any idea and yet, usually, just lie and make some lame joke about he looks like the local mailman.  (Those jokes are never not funny FYI.)  I’ll “talk” to the baby in a higher pitched voice and talk about how cute it is, but like, can we be real?  They can’t understand me and I don’t know if it’s cute.  It looks like every other baby I’ve ever seen.  I’m sure some parents are reading this and labeling me a dick, but why am I supposed to be excited to interact with a thing that has no discernible look or personality?  It’s like getting mad at someone for not being excited to meet and speak with a new floor.  “Oh wow!  It’s wood and kinda smooth!”

This doesn’t mean that I’m not proud of friends of mine who have had little babies.  (Oh, is this the part where you protect yourself?) When I’m around friends of mine or The VPs who have had kids, I am instantly impressed that they have the maturity and stability to ensure the survival of a helpless creature.  These parent-friends of mine LITERALLY have to save their babies’ lives multiple times a day, and I’m writing a blogpost complaining about mediocre enchiladas.  Yeah, you’re more advanced than me!

However, when these life-saving heroes ask me about their 3 week-old’s personality, I wanna be like “uh, to be honest, your baby reminds me of my fingernail.  Like, I know it’s a living thing, but I’m not getting much in the way of a relationship.  I hope I don’t break it.”  While that may be an instance of being honest without being nice, this is really a no-win situation.  If I were to say “it has no discernible personality and looks like every baby I’ve ever seen,” the parents aren’t going to regale me with praise for my honesty.  So I’m forced to lie and walk away feeling like complicit in society’s rouse to make every kid feel more special than they really are.  (That got dark and kinda’ heavy there, bud.  Maybe tone it down a notch next time?)

OUR WORLD:

It’s Wednesday and today’s “My World” section ran long.  See ya’ out there.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

If you know me well, you know that I can’t handle scary movies because I’m a baby and they give me nightmares and I don’t like being scared.  BUT!  Every once in a blue moon, I kinda’ want to see one.  The trailer for the newest Halloween movie looks prettttayyyyy pretttttayyyyy sweet.  May have to man up and check this out.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The Little League World Series is starting soon and that means that I won’t want to watch ESPN for like 3 weeks.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

Cool, guys.  I let you know who I was betting on yesterday for the first time in weeks and you all jinx me.  As if I need another reason to hate France, now they’ve actually taken money out of my pocket by beating Belgium yesterday.  I guess I’m going to bet on England today because…I don’t know where Croatia actually is.  That seems like sound reasoning.  WHAT COULD GO WRONG?!?!

(My account is currently at $31.44)

K bye.

 

Common Drunk Mistakes and Not Going to the Gym (7/10/18)

OUR WORLD:

I didn’t drink yesterday!  I’m planning to not drink today too!!!  (Planning is an interesting word, Jimmy).  Sobriety is one slippery serpent around summer holidays (and stressful workweeks, and Fridays, and Saturdays, and winter holidays, and football Sundays, and…people I work with/for may be reading this so GIVE IT A REST, PAL!) but that mutant Wednesday holiday was a real jolt to my drinking equilibrium.  Is anyone REALLY mad if we just start celebrating Independence Day on the first Friday in July?  Lets give everyone a 3 day weekend and cool it with the midweek hangover.  Am I the only one who felt like last Wednesday was a test?  Paranoid-Jimmy sensed judgmental bitches out in FORCE on Thursday, taking stock of everyone wearing sunglasses and eating McDonald’s out of paper bags in their cars while parked outside suburban dialysis centers (you just got too specific there, Jimmy.  They know it’s you now).  I could almost hear these people saying “I guess SOMEBODY couldn’t control themselves on a midweek holiday.  REVOKE HIS ADULTHOOD CARD!”  Before I go off into a real tangent, I would like to propose that all McDonald’s drive-thru attendants begin each order by telling the person in the car that “everything is going to be okay.  Now, what can I get you?”  The amount of anxiety those simple words would help ease in the world could lead to the end of anti-depressants ALL TOGETHER.  Exaggeration? Well duh, but how many people going through the McDonald’s drive thru are really just searching for someone to tell them that “everything is going to be okay”?  My educated guess would be 100%.

Now, to the issue at hand.  Over the past week-ish, through observing and participating in some alcohol-fueled escapades, I’ve begun assembling a list of mistakes that all of us drinking folk make time after time after time.  We’ll tell ourselves that we’re going to make sure we do this or make sure we don’t do that, and then we have beers and shots and FUN and start thinking “EVERYONE LOVES EVERYTHING I DO!”  They don’t.  My initial goal of this piece was to help us to learn and better ourselves, but I’m no fool.  For the vast majority of us, this may simply be a therapeutic exercise in communal immaturity.  Here are the drunk-person mistakes that all us drinkers make and will continue to make because drinking impairs our decision-making abilities.  Or, as I like to call it, the first edition of the “Oh, I’m not the only who gets drunk and”-list of missteps.

Makes extravagant plans with friends about “finally putting a group trip together!” only to never talk about that trip until the next time you’re all very drunk.

I’ve agreed no less than 28 times to start planning a group trip to Michigan or Wisconsin or some other moderately priced, drive-able location while out drinking with friends.  It always happens when someone in the group just got back from a trip.  They have a tan and are happier/less stressed than normal because they just returned from “a relaxing few days.”  Everyone around them is jealous and saying things like “but I wanna!” to their significant others.  Natural progression includes the person who just returned from vacay proposing that the whole group goes to where they just were.  “Yay!” is usually what I think and ALWAYS what the VP actually says out loud.  Aside from the two friends at the bar thinking they’re taking “secret” shots even though everyone can see them, everyone agrees that this trip is something that MUST happen.

This is when trouble begins to arise.  Who is going to take the lead on planning this?  NOBODY in the entire universe wants that responsibility.  Hey Friendo, when you’re done with work and walking your dog and paying your bills and cooking your dinner and doing your laundry and parking on the street in the city and going to the gym and apologizing to your wife for losing the iPhone charger, would you mind corralling a group of functioning alcoholics to all agree on which weekend they should all spend more than really want to, to go to some place in Wisconsin they haven’t been since they were children?  TYSM!!!

So what ends up happening is…uh….nothing.  And most of the time, honestly, I’m relieved.  I have heard of people going on their phones while IN the bar and making reservations THAT NIGHT.  While I applaud the immediate follow-through, I’ve gotta admit that if I were part of that group I would IMMEDIATELY start thinking of potential excuses to drop a week before the actual trip.  Yes, friend trips are fun, but agreeing to spend a bunch of money while you’re already drunk and already spending a bunch of money at the bar?  Folks, that right there is the origin story of most panic attacks for 30 year olds (surprised you didn’t know that.  Also, if you’re over 30, like me, referring to yourself as a “30 year old” is a nice cheat-code to feel younger.)

Orders shots for all the people you’re with and immediately regrets having to pay $48 for 6 Fireball shots and a sure-fire hangover.

I love thinking about how shots must’ve been invented.  You know some drunk guy named Terry was out one night thinking “I love drinking beer, but I want to get drunk faster.  Liquor? Yeah, but I hate the taste.  What if…someone could like shoot something into my mouth REAL quick to get me drunk and I could go back to drinking beer?  SHOTS!”  Once Terry’s friend, Lorenzo, heard of this idea he joined in the fray and asked the bartender to just add a bunch of sugar to his “shot” to also help mask the taste.  Said bartender then, one late night, tired of feeling like candy dealer, put on a bowtie, grew a mustache and invented simple syrup.  “It’s actually not sugar, it’s a cocktail ingredient known as simple syrup,” said the first ever douchey Mixologist.  Boom, I just gave you the  evolution of alcohol.  (I have done no research into that, but I don’t want to know if it’s wrong.  I don’t care what anyone says.  No chance someone other than a dude named Terry invented shots. NOW GET BACK TO THE FUCKING POINT, JIMMY!)

The point is that now, age thirty tuoeiwe, shots are but an illicit daydream while out at the bar with friends.  No one is really going to ask the crew if they WANT shots because nobody wants to be met with the “you have a problem, don’t you?”-looks.  The way around this, however, is to just show up to the table with a tray of shots.  It’s a risky move because the majority of the table is going to be pseudo-pissed at you, but that’ll fade.  The people that are excited, though, will think of you as their Dark Knight of fireball for allowing them to use the “it would be rude NOT to take this”-excuse.  In the words of Chief Gordon, the Dark Knight of Fireball endures the ridicule “Because he can take it, because he’s not a hero.  He’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector, a Dark Knight.”

Are you, like me, one of these Dark Knights of Fireball?  Let’s talk.  Like me, I bet you told yourself before going out “no shots tonight.”  I bet once you got to the bar and had a few POPS you started laughing and having an absolute ball.  You’re doing some dance moves by yourself to the faint Top 40 songs playing on the speakers (excuse me DJ, can you please play some Steve Winwood?  Yeah, I’ll settle for Katy Perry.)  Next thing you know, you’re in the bathroom thinking to yourself “I’ve got my lady here, my friends here and just pulled off a killer flossing routine in the middle of the bar, how could this night get better?!?!”  That’s when you slowly look up from washing your hands and catch yourself in the mirror…”Shots.”  It’s exciting in the same way that the idea of smoking a cigarette is.  (Look cool and get a little extra buzz in the process!)  

You’re in full-on “ignoring consequences”-mode until directly after you put down the empty shot glass.  Fireball isn’t cheap, but you can’t close out your tab right this second because…uh…I STILL WANNA HAVE FUN!  So now you’re panicking as you run through all the times you bought fireball shots in the past trying to figure out how much it’s going to cost.  The “oh no”-face begins to take hold of you, but you have to play it off when your wife asks if everything is okay because NOBODY likes the “can we split that tray of shots?”-guy.  (Honestly, I’ve never seen one of the Dark Knights of Fireball ask to split the cost afterwards, but I’m POSITIVE they all think about asking.)  So you’re now stuck in the bar trying to do math (legally impossible after beer #7) while pretending that you’re still having a good time.  On top of that, you broke your “no shots” rule and you’re thinking about it now because panic spares no potential suitor.  When it begins, the panic zombie-goblins come back to life and begin feeding on any potential fear-inducing topic.  2 hours later, when you finally do close out your tab and sign your check, you nearly hyperventilate while thinking about your bank account, tomorrow’s hangover, and how your pants are going to feel after you DEMOLISH late-night pizza.  Everything is, most certainly, not okay.

Thinks that no matter where you are, walking home is a good idea.

I don’t care if I’m at a bar in the middle of the goddamn ocean, the second close out my tab I’m thinking “walkin’ time!”  There are so many reasons for this, but the top one has to be that walking home allows for the possibility of stopping at a late-night eatery for some delicious delicious treats.  (I’ve gotta do a list of “Best Late Night Eats” at some point.)  Asking an Uber to go through a drive-thru includes feeling ashamed for involving a stranger in your excess (this is our little secret!) AND ALSO risks the driver messing up your order when he asks what he should say into the drive-thru speaker.  If you’re walking, you get to play the “well, I mean, McDonald’s is right there” game of chicken with your spouse.  Saying ‘no’ to McDonald’s after midnight is the type of self-control that is written about in books that smarter people than me read.  Whenever I’m late-night walking with The VP and toss out the “McDonald’s?” she shrugs in an effort to mask how OVERWHELMINGLY EXCITED she is that I was the one to suggest it.  (The Dark Knight strikes again).

Unfortunately, when you live in a city like Chicago, with tons of stories about drunk idiots (me? are you talking about me?) getting mugged, walking home is NOT. SAFE.  When I’m going out without The VP, she actually makes me promise her that I won’t walk home.  Little does The VP of Ops know that my toes are crossed when I make this promise and YOU CAN’T GET MAD ABOUT CROSSIES!!! YOU CAN’T!  If I simply plan to speed-walk home while zig-zagging down the sidewalk, “tough to hit a moving target”-style, I should be fine (I’m legit V nervous that I just jinxed myself.)  When I’m descending into panic-mode following my OUTRAGEOUS bar spend, skipping the $13 Uber ride is going to make me feel just a little bit better.  And at that point of the night, every little bit counts!

Finally, I don’t care what kind of shape you’re in, everyone loves breaking into the “I just want to be home right this second”-drunksprint and we’re ALL convinced that our drunksprint is faster than any car ever put on this earth.  The next “Fast & The Furious” movie should really be about dueling drunksprinters.

MY WORLD:

I’ve taken the last week off from working out because during my last run I felt some crazy pulling on my hamstrings.  I told myself that I needed the rest, which I probably did, but I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t A BILLION PERCENT THRILLED to have a legitimate excuse to not go to the gym for a little while.  The downside of this MANDATORY vacation, however, is the guilt associated following every meal.  Some of the things I’ve considered to combat this fat-guilt I’ve been experiencing, include:

-Shaving my beard:  Shaving makes your face look thinner.  I’ve had a “beard” (stop laughing Dad!) for a few months now, so if I shaved it, I think people would be like “whoa, have you been losing weight?”  Tricked ya!

-Cutting my hair:  I need a haircut and have been wearing a hat for about 5 weeks straight now to hide this fact.  Along the same lines as the beard thing, if I get a haircut, it could distract people from my widening torso.  If I got a SUPER new haircut, like a buzz or one of those cool hipster/hitler-youth haircuts, people would def not notice that I’m wearing my “the diet is not going well”-jeans.

-Embracing being bigger:  I just don’t think I’m tall enough to pull off “big guy”.  It stinks because I feel like there are taller guys who are overweight, but they wear it well so they can just be “the big guy.”  I wanna be “the big guy”!  When I gain weight, I’m stocky and NOBODY wants to be “the stocky guy”.  Is there any other way I can embrace the inevitability of getting bigger?  I’m open to suggestions here.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

My Dad sent me the link to this song last week.  I remember when I told people that I hated country music.  I do not feel that way anymore.  This song is fabulous.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you bring your car in for an inspection and the body shop guy comes into the waiting room because he “needs to talk to you about something.”  GREAT!

JIMMY GAMBLES:

Been really up and down lately.  Hit big on some World Cup bets last week but also learned the hard lesson that betting the moneyline in soccer means your team has to win by the end of regulation.  I realized this while celebrating my Croatia “win” and assuring my gambling partners that Bovada must be malfunctioning because it hadn’t paid us out yet.  After about 19 page refreshes, The VP googled “soccer gambling” for me and broke my heart while reading the moneyline regulation rules.  If I would’ve known gambling involved reading and learning, I never would’ve gotten into it.  Today I’ve got Belgium because I bet on them before the tournament started and don’t want to start rooting against them now even though I’m TERRIFIED of that fast French dude MBappe.

(Current balance at $31.87)

K bye.

 

 

 

Has My Wife Taken Me Prisoner? (6/28/18)

MY WORLD:

The VP and I finished watching “The Staircase” the other night (hold your applause! PLEASE!  Standing ovation? CONTROL YOURSELVES!!!)  During the second to last episode, I started thinking that I just wanted this show to be over.  It’s dark and depressing and sad and scary and why was I watching this?  When your “escape” revolves around stories about murder and the terrors of our legal system, it should not come as a surprise when your daily stresses don’t melt away.  What happened to having a plop on the couch and sharing but a smile?  Perhaps a chuckle or two before bedtime?   Up until I was seduced by an older lady, now known as The VP of Ops, at the vulnerable age of 27, I was into happy, and, potentially, emotionally uplifting television.  “The Office”, “Parks and Rec” and “Friday Night Lights” were more my speed.  Laugh at Andy Dwyer, shed a tear for QB 1 and his decimated spinal chord, and root for Jim to finally tell Pam how he feels. (Sidenote: how many awkward “but I only like you as a friend” confrontations did the Jim/Pam story cause around the country?  You know friend-zone guys everywhere were like “if it worked for Jim, it’ll work for me!”)  But that all came to an end when my Mrs. Robinson came into the picture…

I remember The VP of Ops telling me that she was into murder when we started dating.  It wasn’t concerning in the way of like “Hey Jimmy, I’m into murder because I enjoy murdering people and I’m thinking of murdering you.”  It was more in the vein of “I like sitting on a couch with a devious smile on my face while good looking detectives battle personal demons and sexual tension with their co-workers throughout missions for justice.”  She didn’t exactly spell it out like that, but when a hot chick is on a date with you, there are NO red flags.  ZERO, FOLKS!  Seriously, she could’ve pulled out a rusty knife and told me she was into amateur surgery and I would’ve been like “cool, totally!”

Anyway, long story short, unable to resist her wily seduction techniques, The VP roped me in to her world of heavy cream dips and depressing television.  Somehow, my television viewing habits have gone from sitcoms and serialized dramas to trashy reality television and murder documentaries.  Monday through Thursday over the past few months have consisted of: “The Bachelorette”, “Vanderpump Rules”, “Southern Charm”, “Evil Genius”, “The Staircase”, and “The Keepers”.  We spend our weeknights either cackling at functioning alcoholics with undiagnosed personality disorders or silently watching strangers try to cope with the most horrific event of their lives.  The VP has turned me into your Aunt Paula.  Do you realize I’ve written more about “The Bachelorette” than I have about the Bears?  I’M A MAN FOR CHRISSAKE!  When does the Netflix doc about The VP murdering my masculinity come out?  “Did We Record The Bachelor?”: The true story of a once proud Chicago man’s descent into madness.  

What is happening to me?  I used to think it was a lame joke when I’d hear older guys talk about how their “wives run the show.”  My Dad’s friends would say shit like that and I’d toss a courtesy laugh their way while thinking A) I’m sure that’s not actually true, and B) has anybody actually laughed at that joke?  Thing is, I’m beginning to think it wasn’t a joke!  The VP doesn’t totally run the show (I’M MY OWN MAN!) but…like…maybe she does, actually.  Shit.

Let’s take a look at the last 4 days: I have cooked three of the nights and brought home dinner the third.  I then hand washed the pots and pans used for those meals, unloaded and re-loaded the dishwasher.  I have run two loads of laundry, bought her a heating pad, and taken out the trash.  We have watched episodes “Southern Charm”, “The Bachelorette”, and “The Staircase”.  ESPN has not been on our television for one second.  I broke the sunglasses that she got for me last week, but haven’t worn my back-up pair because The VP says they’re “disgusting”.  So I’ve just been squinting for the past week.  Oh, and I gave her an alarmingly asexual back massage last night.  (Realization hits as a look of panic washes over Jimmy’s face…) WHAT HAVE I BECOME?!?!

If my Dad’s friends knew what they were saying wasn’t a joke, why were they chuckling?!?!  Why weren’t they grabbing me by the shoulders and telling me to save myself before it was too late?!?! “You don’t understand!!!” should’ve been how all of my Dad’s friends greeted me while I was still dating The VP.  Folks, I didn’t plan on writing this blog today.  What you are reading is a real-time discovery that I may not be the person I thought I was.  Stay calm, Jimmy.  Stay calm.  EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!!  Quickly, what are the things I believe I enjoy now that I wasn’t into before The VP plunged her talons into my testosterone supply:

-Oysters:  Never even tried an oyster before The VP came into the picture.  Now, I get excited when I’m at a place with good oysters.  What are in some oysters? Pearls.  Who likes pearls? Girls.  Shit.

-English muffins:  I have a multi-grain english muffin every morning for breakfast now.  I used to eat bagels.  Close your eyes and imagine Clint Eastwood walking into a dusty diner.  When the waitress asks what he’d with his bacon and eggs, what do you think he orders?  Without hesitation, it’s a bagel every single time.  ENGLISH MUFFIN PROBABLY ISN’T EVEN AN OPTION IN CLINT’S DINER!

-Rolling up my jeans:  The VP says it’s “cute”.  My brothers and father make fun of me.

-Puppies:  Not to say that I used to not like puppies, but I remember a time when I wouldn’t stop EVERYTHING I was doing whenever a puppy came into my field of vision.  Now, it’s like a fire drill where I alert everyone around me that there’s a puppy and pray that I’m able to get to it in time to ask for a casual pet.  That’s weird.

-Thinking about crying when I’m alone:  I’m aware this sounds supremely depressing, but this blog is, if nothing else, honest.  Whether it’s job stress or money stress or thinking about murder documentaries or wondering what Belle does all day while I’m gone, I have begun to think about crying when I’m alone.  The strangest thing? I kinda’ like it!  I never actually cry, but I’ll think to myself “should I pull over and have a quick weep sesh in that Office Depot parking lot?”

These trends are concerning and worth revisiting.  (Now Jimmy, anticipate the call you will receive from The VP once she reads this.  You’re playing checkers while she’s playing chess!)  I’m not a prisoner, guys. Ha. Ha. (Blink twice).  To the people who have not seen me in a while, and believe that I am being held captive by my wife, I have a message for you: The VP of Ops is not holding me captive as her prisoner.  (Blink twice). She is a sweet and pretty lady that I love very much who deserves the entire whole wide world. (Blink twice).  And yes, I am listening to “Keeping Score”, the new Dan + Shay single featuring Kelly Clarkson.  It’s a lovely little tune!

(Help).

OUR WORLD:

The reason that city driving is so much more difficult is because everyone who lives in the city, and therefore drive in the city, is so stressed out by EVERYTHING that the slightest ANYTHING can set you off.  I feel like a Velociraptor (that’s one word!  Who knew?!?) while driving around my neighborhood–ready to plunge through the driver’s side window of my Chevy Equinox and go fangs-first into the next car that leaks into my lane of traffic.  Combine the sounds of a constipated toddler with the aggression of a blackout-drunk Crossfit trainer who was just put in the friend zone by his Tinder date; that’s me driving in the city.  That’s all of us driving in the city because Chicago, and I imagine all other large cities, is a garbage can overflowing with annoyances.  What are some of the other PRIME City annoyances?  Let’s take a look:

-The “was that a gunshot?”-sounds:  Whenever I’m near the VP of Ops when one of these sounds happens, I immediately say “fireworks.”  I play it cool and nonchalant so that she doesn’t worry, but (close your eyes VP) it’s probably gunshots sometimes, right?  Who is setting off fireworks on a random Tuesday night in June?  Also, you have to go to Wisconsin or Indiana to get fireworks, so what the hell are these sounds?  That’s part of living in the city that I’ll never get used to.  When I’m walking Belle at night, I say “what was that?” to a not-too-distant sound a minimum of 6 times.  When these walks are immediately following a murder documentary, you better believe I contemplate breaking into a full sprint back towards my apartment.

-Walking up to street-parked car in the morning and seeing shards of glass in the distance:  If you park on the street in the city your car, sooner or later, will be broken into.  There is ZERO chance that it won’t.  Trust me, I’ve run the numbers.  On the day it is, you’ll be walking down the block your car is on when you’ll notice a pile of shattered turquoise pebbles.  Those aren’t exotic city pebbles, though, those are what remains of your passenger-side window.  I’ve had this happen twice which means that now, whenever I’m heading down the block my car is on, I have a near heart attack whenever I see a pile of turquoise in the distance.  That color, btw, STINKS.

-City dogs and the dog-walkers:  Don’t get me wrong, I luh me some doggies (see my puppy love in today’s “My World”).  BUT!  City dogs, including my own, are much more likely to be hairy psychopaths with crippling anxiety disorders.  I don’t blame them, this is what comes with living in the city.  However, when you’re having to zig zag across streets to make sure your dog doesn’t get within 500 feet of another hairy LUNATIC, your nerves begin to fray.  This morning I took Belle on a 4 block walk and crossed the street no less than 18,000 times to avoid other dogs.  Oh, and if you see a “professional” dog walker heading your way, be aware that they think of themselves as the top of the sidewalk food chain and will NEVER cross the street first. Am I just being constantly alpha’d by other dog owners in the game of “who’s going to cross the street first?”  Do I call their bluff and play a game of chicken?  If you knew Belle, you wouldn’t either.

-The smell of weed EVERYWHERE:  I know this makes me sound like a total narc, but it really does smell like weed everywhere in the city.  Like, every. single. place.  When you’re afraid of weed like I am, this smell immediately triggers a response of panicked breath holding.  Remember when you were a kid and your go-to tantrum move was holding your breath until you passed out?  That’s me here.

-People:  There are so many.  Literally, millions and most of them do not abide by my personal code of conduct.  It’s infuriating.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I’m just going to lean into this one…

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Cabbies who drive Uber.  I get that they have to adapt, but I feel tricked whenever I get in an Uber and am immediately hit with that “professional cabbie”-smell.

I HAVEN’T GAMBLED YET THIS WEEK.  MANY PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT HOW INSPIRING MY SELF-CONTROL IS.

K bye.

 

Worse Jobs Than Yours and Jeans in Critical Condition (6/25/18)

OUR WORLD:

Was I the only one to mutter “fuck this world with my whole heart” this morning?  My Monday morning routine has come to include vile self-talk followed by a sad march to make coffee before sitting on the couch and hugging my dog until she gives me the “are you actually about to start crying?” pull-away.  (Are we sure that hugging your dog can’t turn back the clock until it’s Sunday morning again?  BUT ARE WE SURE?!?!) It’s quite the scene in the Pomerantz household.  (Household?  You live in an apartment, pal.  Quit fibbin!”)  Now that I’ve finished shaking my head at nothing in particular, I’m ready to put my energy into finding perspective.  This section is somewhat twisted.  I’m aware that making myself feel better by thinking about the misfortune of others isn’t exactly the most noble of pursuits. GOOD THING I’M NOT NOBLE!  Faithful readers, lets take a trip back to…the “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job list.

Biker Gang Organizer:

I was in the burgeoning metropolis of Rockford, Illinois for a work event at a big sports bar this Saturday.  Unbeknownst to me, Rockford is home to large biker organizations (I don’t know if it’s a gang and if they read this and saw “gang” would they get mad and come find me?  Oh who am I kidding?  Bikers can’t read!)  GANG!  In the middle of my event, a biker GANG (still kinda’ scared…) pulled into the parking lot of the bar.  This gang consisted of about 60ish large humans wearing leather vests and bandanas while sitting on OBNOXIOUSLY loud motor vehicles.  The bar hosting my event was also the second stop on a Biker Bar Crawl.  I felt so lucky!  (Lucky? Or that feeling when you’re terrified and sad and annoyed at the same time but you act excited because the people around you think bikers are cool?  Yeah, the second one.)  

Once all of the “I’m tough because I bought a leather vest”-people had parked their bikes, however, a leader emerged.  A fleshy fellow walked to the middle of the lot, did that super loud whistle thing where you put fingers in your mouth, and yelled to the crew “WHAT DOES SINGLE-FILE MEAN?!”  I confidently raised my hand, but I guess I didn’t count.  (Fucking bullshit.)  If we’re being honest, he didn’t seem to genuinely care if people did know because he continued with his loathsome rant pretty quickly, “IT MEANS SINGLE FUCKING FILE!”  Ohhhhhhhhh!  But I thought, it meant…double….file.  The gang looked to each other with knowing nods, shared some chuckles and said things like “I’m glad that Larry is so willing to share what he knows with the rest of us!”  Seeing education live is inspiring.

But then I watched Screamy Larry head over to his clique for a few aggressive fist bumps and backpats.  It was clear he was not the leader of the Biker Gang.  Instead, he must’ve been the organizer guy; which makes sense because a Biker Gang leader doesn’t have to do stuff like look behind him while riding to make sure everyone is in single file.  Jax Teller never looked back, only ahead (Sons of Anarchy reference.  If you don’t get it, watch the show NOW.)  So I started thinking how much it must SUCK to be the guy in the biker gang in charge of making sure they stay in single file while riding around towns.  Further, there’s no way that the single-file thing is all Screamy Larry is responsible for, he must be like the Head of Organizing for the biker gang.  So the screaming made sense. Can you imagine how frustrating it must be to have to organize a biker gang?!

Aside from the whole single-file fiasco, he’s probably in charge of: figuring out how much each biker owes when they go out for a big group lunch; making sure everyone has the right patch on their leather vest; scheduling the chores at the biker gang clubhouse; AND, Screamy Larry also probably has to keep track of all of the members’ birthdays, ensuring they don’t forget to sing “Happy Birthday” and have cake in the break room.  Remember the time they forgot Knuckles’ birthday?  Knuckles and Screamy Larry do.  Simply can’t have that.

Today, when you’re staring at your computer screen while telling yourself not to say what you really want to say to your boss, be grateful that your job doesn’t entail having to send Venmo reminders to bikers who still owe from yesterday’s team lunch at Longhorn Steakhouse.  Screamy Larry knows that half the gang doesn’t even have Venmo, but asking a biker, in person, for money is something he’s just not up for on a Monday.

Money People:

This is broad and general because the whole “money management” universe is foreign and supremely intimidating.  I have friends and a brother who work in this world and I cannot imagine the stress of it.  Heading to the office on a Monday in charge of managing someone’s retirement or life savings or couch change would fill me with the type of anxiety that necessitates a 3rd martini on a Sunday night (NEVER a good idea).  

What do their voicemails sound like?  “Hey Jimmy, Mr. Perrywinkle here, I saw a report on the news that the market is taking a dive.  Is that the same market you just passionately convinced me to put my life savings into?  Just checking, let me know!”  There have to be calls like that, right?  And then you’d have to call back to remind the person whose bank account you just decimated that the market is, ultimately, unpredictable.  I’m sure they understand…

(I always feel impossibly ignorant when talking about money stuff….BUT LETS KEEP GOING!) When I see reports about the stock market doing well or not doing well or doing the same, I think to myself “that should probably interest me more than it does.”  In reality, I’m just annoyed that the news put the ‘Market Report’ ahead of the story about ‘Chicago’s Best Mozzarella Stick.’  (The answer is “Roots Pizza” FYI.  You’re welcome.)  The money guys, though, probably feel their phones seizing during any report about THE MARKET.  I can imagine a money guy or gal taking their dog for a walk on a nice day when, out of nowhere, their phone begins vibrating so much that it starts a mini friction-fire in their pants pocket.  “Uh oh, THE MARKET!”

Aside from having to be the face of market fluctuations, Money people have to make a lot of spreadsheets and graphs and presentations to really smart people in suits about spreadsheets and graphs.  Decimals and percentages and JESUS H. CHRIST it’s hard to breathe while wearing a tie in the summer.  If I were a money guy, all of my presentations would just be titled “We Should Invest in ______ Because My Rich Grandpa Said We Should.”  That would be the entire presentation, actually.

Rich Person’s Assistant

Most of us work in jobs where we’re surrounded by co-workers who earn about the same amount.  Today, when you’re having a mild panic attack re: the $74 you spent on brunch yesterday, you can look to either side and see co-workers also nervously typing in their online banking passwords.  The Monday money check is a trying time, but we’re all in it together.  That is, of course, unless you work as a personal assistant for a super rich person.  While you’re scrolling through the 14 separate charges from “Louie’s Pub” on your Chase Mobile App, your boss is tasking you with picking out a new Monday watch for him.  “Something that’s not too flashy, but enough to where people will know that I use the word ‘summer’ as a verb.”  That means the assistant gets to go into the jewelry store with a security guard!

Who do these assistants relate to at their job?  Who is the friend they can pull aside for the “you know, I hate to complain, but…”-chats?  The housekeeper’s are not on your side because they know that you get to ride in the fancy cars.  You can’t whine to the spouse because YOU KNOW they’re just going to tattle on you the next time they feel like having a “you can trust me”-convo with your boss.  The kids just think of you as the person who gets them the things they want.  So you’re left to text your friends who are too busy pretending to not look at their phones on Monday morning.  YOU ARE ALONE AND POOR IN A BIG, EXPENSIVE HOUSE!  If I was a rich person’s assistant, I would have a designated time every Monday morning where I would just stare at a mirror while crying.  I’d also probably steal little things like toilet paper and the little dog poop bags.

MY WORLD:

I’m a one-pair-of-jeans-for-6-to-8-months kind of guy, and it appears I am nearing the end of the road for my current pair of jeans.  This always happens and it’s never not sad.  The crotchal region of my jeans, having been stretched for months on end, begins to wear…and then a hole appears.  This hole gets large quickly and I am forced to retire the jeans.  My current jeans are hanging on by mere threads.  Upon close inspection this morning, we’re looking at another 3.6 days tops.  This means that for the next two weeks I have to wear pants that I don’t really want to be wearing.  It also means that I will be a little depressed because as hard as I try, there’s no way around thinking that the jeans died because my thighs got fatter.  If you happen to catch me staring down at my thighs over the next two weeks, do me a favor and feel free to mention that my legs don’t look chubbier than they did 6 months ago.  A simple “it’s gonna be okay” would suffice too.

And you think you’re having a tough Monday.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I’m seeing Dave Matthews Band this weekend and I am so excited I’m going to talk about it to strangers this week!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you get up at 4 A.M. on Monday morning and think “is it even worth it to try to go back to sleep?”  Next time this happens to me, I may just buy a ticket to Yugoslavia and start a new life.

GAMBLING WENT HORRIBLY THIS WEEKEND, THANKS FOR ASKING!  TURNS OUT, BLINDLY BETTING ON A SPORT YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT (SOCCER) IS NOT A RECIPE FOR SUCCESS.  LIVE AND LEARN.

K bye.

Rules When Sitting Alone At The Bar and Jimmy Fashion (6/8/18)

OUR WORLD:

Since sitting alone in bars is part of my job (professional Sad?) I’ve developed proven methods to give off “no, it’s okay, I’m not a sad person”-vibes.  It’s tricky, really, toeing the line between self-assured, creepy and sad while sitting alone at a bar, but when done properly, can make you feel like one of the cool movie guys who make you want to get into cigarettes again.  (Then you’ll probably go overboard and try rolling the pack in your short sleeve like James Dean until you catch your profile in a mirror and realize that your jawline is NOT chiseled.)  I’m planning for “The Rules of Being Alone At A Bar” to be recurring posts.  Let’s try these out first:

NEVER SIT DIRECTLY NEXT TO SOMEONE WHEN THERE ARE OTHER SPOTS OPEN:  What’s worse than sitting at a bar with a bunch of open seats, and some chode picks the seat right next to you?  Everyone knows that there should be one seat in between each party at the bar and if I owned a bar, I would actually mandate this by allowing my customers to place sharp metal spikes on the seats flanking their party at the bar.  Would there be some bloody butts? If it keeps the creeps fromma’ creepin’, then it’s well worth it.  Girls, wouldn’t you be much more likely to go to the Spikey Seat bar than risk having Hairy Jerry and his double vodkas sitting next to you and your friends on a Friday night?

If you are reading this and thinking “I like to sit next to strangers at the bar because I’m open to meeting new people!” just stop fibbing yourself.  The whole “meeting new people”-catchphrase was started by some hippy who wrote a book or something that confused affability with harassment.  What, you can’t talk to someone if your love-handle isn’t resting on their thigh?  (Side note: ever look at people seating at the bar from behind? NOBODY looks good.  It’s like a row of ziplock bags stuffed full of melting gelato with heads on top.  Oh, and the heads? Most have bald spots.)  

MAKE FRIENDS WITH THE BARTENDER WITHOUT A FULL-BLOWN CONVERSATION:  Not every bartender is an amateur psychiatrist thrilled to diagnose all the problems you’re dumping on their doorstep.  Remember especially if they’re over the age of 35, they’re doing a job that requires an explanation of “what went wrong” every time they speak to their grandfather.  When I bartended, I did not whistle while I worked.  Instead, I felt trapped between sads and their unprescribed medicines; I got to play the unlicensed doctor setting my patients up for a blip of relief before waking up with a stinging headache.  (I just don’t understand why Jimmy wasn’t a good bartender?!?!)  I was cordial with the alone-people at the bar, but I was overly cautious with them due to the fear of getting caught by a talkative one.  Ever wonder why the bartender acts super busy in a slow bar? He’s probably trying to avoid getting cornered by an alone-person sitting at his bar.  It must be a BILLION-TRILLION-GAJILLION times worse for female bartenders.  Give ’em all purple hearts and lifetime passes to every panic room ever constructed.

As an alone-person at the bar, simply play hard to get with the bartender.  You want to make friends with him because maybe he’ll give you a free drink and most bartenders have cool stories.  So order your bev, thank him or her without really looking at them, and go back to watching the television.  Play it cool, guys.  Keep an eye on what’s going on around the bar and, after a while, you’ll pick up on some of the politics surrounding your seat.  Maybe you’ll see a pouty server or a bitchy customer or an angry boss.  Once you spot this, wait for the bartender to come near you and flip a “I’m with you, brother”-comment the bartender’s way.  For instance, lets say you see a customer send back a drink more than once.  When the bartender nears you, say something like “they seem like fun.”  BOOM, you’re on the bartender’s side.  All most bartenders want to do is complain about their job, so once you open that possibility for them, they’re puddy in your hand.  And guess what?  Alone-you has just made friends with the most popular person in the place.  Congratulations.

DON’T TALK TO THE TELEVISIONS:  You’re not fooling anyone.  The entire bar knows that your running commentary on the muted news program is a signal: YOU’RE DYING FOR SOMEONE TO REACT TO YOU!  I’m not talking about the meatballs who yell at their teams during important sports games (how else would the players know they were fucking up?)  No, I’m talking about the nights at the bar where there aren’t sports on, but they left the TVs on, like, the news.  There’s no sound, but a picture of Trump will come on the screen and the alone-guy DYING FOR A REACTION will blurt out something like “You believe this guy?”  First off, no, I can’t fucking believe that guy.  But more importantly, I don’t want to be goaded into a political conversation with the alone-guy stranger at the bar.  Nobody does EXCEPT for maybe some of the other alone-guys at the bar.  This creates an absolute nightmare scenario where alone-guys are shouting conversation to each other from across the bar.  If you find yourself in one of these shouted convos, stop it right now.  You don’t want to be one of these people for even ONE SECOND of your life.

Now what if you hear one of these alone-people barking at the TV, but you didn’t know that was the situation?  You turned to your left and, all of a sudden, you’re making direct eye-contact with said alone-person right as they’re reaching the climax of their political monologue.  “Shit, alone-guy is gonna take this as a sign I want to engage in this” is what every sane person immediately thinks.  And guess what? Alone-guy DOES take that eye-contact as a sign that you’re in.  As you see television talker alone-guy misread your accidental eye-contact, he’ll shift slightly towards you covered in “let’s have a chat”-body language.  Before he completely turns in his chair, you need to get up and go to the bathroom.  That’s your only way out; straight bail move.  Act like you really need to go and you turning that way was just part of your exit-move.  Hop off your barstool and do a trot-waddle to the bathroom to really drive home the point.  We don’t want to make the alone-guys sad, but it’s every man and woman for themselves whenever the television talker starts acting up.

 

MY WORLD:

I’m in the midst of a sock crisis, and I’m close to just throwing in the towel.  The VP and I have gotten caught WAY behind with our laundry, so we’ve been employing the “lets rummage through the over-stuffed dryer every morning for our outfit”-plan of attack.  Unfortunately, the fruits of these dryer searches are limited to shirts only.  At this point, finding matching socks is about as likely as The VP becoming an ultra-marathoner (I think I’ve seen her run once…in an Ikea parking lot when she thought for a second she was gonna get hit by a car.)  Now, a normal, responsible adult would gather all the hamper socks and devote however long it takes to match socks.  Lest you forget, I am special and have chosen an alternative solution: embracing mismatched socks as “my new look”.  I, Jimmyschair, hereby announce that I am no longer a sheep in the matched sock flock.  Remember, fortune favors the bold.

socks

For those of you who thought Jimmy Fashion was dead: catch me on my yacht.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Dave Matthews Band came out with a new album and I think this is my favorite song on it.  I THINK!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Rainy Fridays in the summer.

WRITING ABOUT GAMBLING ON THE NBA FINALS IS BORING ME SO I’M GOING TO TAKE A BREAK FROM IT FOR A LITTLE BIT.  PLEASE DON’T CRY LIKE “BACHELORETTE” LINCOLN ABOUT THIS.

But real quick, I’m putting the balance of my Bovada account on the Warriors tonight. 

K bye.

Car People and Tight Shorts (6/6/18)

MY WORLD:

 

A few years back, The VP of Ops and I got in a big fight about me being wrong and not admitting it and then getting madder at her for pointing that out and it turned into a real THING.  Mind you, our fights usually consist of me being in some sort of mood (Shut up to all the people saying “such a Gemini”-in their head rn) or The VP just absolutely refusing to admit when she may have been wrong.  It’s the same routine most times where we’ll get mad, kinda snap without yelling, make exchange some cutting remarks in the guise of “being funny”, give each other the silent treatment for a few hours and then gently start to make gentler jokes about the fight as we wait for the other one to apologize first (spoiler alert: IT’S ALWAYS ME BECAUSE GAH FUHBIH SHE EVER ADMITS THAT SHE WAS WRONG!) Anyway, this particular fight a few years back, was ratcheted up a few notches because it happened later in the evening after we had entered HAMMEREDVILLE, USA.  You know those drunk fights where halfway through you catch yourself in a sober flash thinking “wait, why am I mad? Uh oh…I have no idea…DOESN’T MATTER, KEEP GOING!”?  It was one of those.  This night, however, my power move wasn’t just a silent treatment, but it was to retreat to the only place I can truly be myself: my car.  (Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to drive anywhere.  The plan was to sleep in my car…then I realized the backseat was supes uncomfy so I waited another 11 minutes before slithering back into our apartment.  Uh….yeah, I think she got the point!) 

We’re different people in our cars, right? Maybe I’m saying that because I’m in mine a lot and I act like a borderline mental patient in mine, but where else are you alone in a soundproof box with windows?  It’s as close as we’ll ever come to being invisible in public (hey inventors, get off your asses and prove me wrong!) and I don’t know about you guys, but I relish this pseudo-invisibility.  WHO’S WITH ME?  Here are some of my classic “I can do this because I’m alone in a soundproof box”-moves:

-Front-seat Dancing:  Singing is obvious and I can be one basic bitch so, yeah, I sing too, but the seated dance moves I’ve developed are nothing short of…well, probably disappointing.  BUT! While I’m doing them, my brain is flooded with “remember this move next time you’re being looked at on a dance floor!”  (Can someone also have a chair ready for me?)  If you’re curious about what these moves are (WE ARE! JIMMY! WE ARE!) close your eyes TIGHT and think rolling shoulders mixed with pointing fingers that SOMETIMES curl back into air drum routines.  Mind you, these moves are more likely to come out on Thursdays and Fridays as JGT (Jimmy Good Times!!!) nears his weekend entrance.  And the bands/musicians that bring these hotsex seated dance moves out? We’re talking CHVRCHES, Steve Winwood (JGT’S FAVORITE), and maybe some cool-guy “I’m a rapper when I’m alone in my car”-moves for Old Kanye.  I will warn you, however, that if you play any of this music while in the car with me, you will not see these moves.  They are strictly for Alone-In-The-Car-Jimmy.  I have made eye contact with random drivers mid-move, and I immediately stop and look up and away kinda’ like how Michael Cera did during the awkward moments in “Superbad”.

-The “I’m Pissed” Arm Toss:  Middle fingers are so 1999, guys.  When I get mad, and I’m either in front of or directly behind the car that made me mad, I toss my arm up like I’m flinging a frisbee through my sunroof.  Here’s the thing though: there is no frisbee, and I have no sunroof.  You just got hit with the Jimmyschair patented “I’m pissed” arm toss.  And if you’re not feeling guilty for what you and your FUCKING car just did to me? Then I hope you rot in hell.  Now I will say that this move is NOT restricted to Alone-In-The-Car-Jimmy (let’s call Alone-In-The-Car-Jimmy; JimE cuz it’s edgy but still sounds like my name!)  The VP was introduced to the “I’m Pissed” Arm Toss early on in our relaish (what hip lingo doesn’t Jimmy know?!?!) after some pisspants cut me off.  I don’t remember her exact reaction, but it was along the lines of a dripping-sarcastic “wow, my hero!”  I always use my right arm because it’s stronger (thus, more intimidating) and there are no less than 4 tosses per day.  JimE’s thinking? Chicago traffic is bad because there are too many guilt-free drivers not realizing the damage they’re causing by SWITCHING LANES WITHOUT A GODDAMN SIGNAL.  The “I’m Pissed” Arm Toss slings guilt from my Chevy Equinox the way a Catholic Priest does during his sermon.  Should we start calling my right arm Father Arm O’Tossahand?

-Talking to myself:  The invention of speakerphone has provided the perfect cover for talking to yourself in the car.  Even if you’re caught by a red-light neighbor, you can shoot the “I’m on the phone”-look (there’s a look for that? YEAH DUMMY!) Whether it’s preparing for an upcoming presentation; or running a “mock argument” that I’m anticipating later that day; or pretending that I’m being interviewed by a late-night talk show host, there is no shortage of my voice in my car.  What’s weird about talking to yourself is that if you do in front of people, you’re obviously a LOON.  BUT! I would also posit (nice word) that if you don’t do it while you’re alone, you are simply a different breed of LOON.  Are there actually people who never talk to themselves?  Is that the origin story of every socially awkward person?  (Jimmy seems to really want to convince us that talking to yourself is not only not crazy, but normal.  Hey Jimmy, PLEASE START TAKING PILLS PRESCRIBED BY A LICENSED PSYCHIATRIST!) This morning, for instance, I have about an hour-long commute, during which I plan to hold an interview where my current-self asks my future-self all about why it took so long for me (us?) to break into Hollywood’s writing scene.  I can’t wait to give humble answers.

OUR WORLD:

Hopefully, you haven’t been like me lately and eating copious amounts of cheese dips.  My summer bod is taking a hiatus that my shorts from last year were NOT prepared for.  Therefore, I am entering a “I’m going to try to eat super healthy during the week, so I can pig out on weekends without having to buy all new summer clothes”-diet.  If, unfortunately, you are like me and are looking to enter a similar shorts-saving campaign, here is what I have eaten and plan to eat for the rest of this week’s dinner.  I give you, some healthy meals that don’t suck:

-Baked Chicken Wings:  As long as you don’t coat them in flour or use butter in your buffalo sauce, I think we’re pretty gucci here. On its own, buffalo sauce ain’t that bad for you according to my brain when it looks at the nutritional info on the back of the Frank’s Buffalo Sauce bottle.

-Turkey Tacos:  Lean turkey meat with taco seasoning is FINE, and I’m pretty sure if you use corn tortillas, it’s basically like eating corn…which is a vegetable and, therefore, GOOD FOR YOU.  Skip the sour cream, but allow a little cheese.  Atkins allows cheese and it’s kinda’ Atkins-y, so the cheese is okay.

-Skirt Steak with Chimichurri and Asparagus:  Chimichurri is like limey pesto and errbody knows I love me some pesto.  Skirt Steak is protein and protein is good because muscle guys talk about it a lot.  The asparagus makes your pee smell weird which is a sign that you’re keeping your body on it’s toes with this new healthy-you.  Watch out bod, things are a changing!

-Grilled Chicken and Broccoli:  I’m not gonna lie, this is a boring-ass meal.  However, you need to throw in one super healthy boring meal a week so you have something to truly brag about to your friends this weekend.  Get ready to drop health-bombs on them like “it’s so nice not having to have another chicken and broccoli dish this week!”  All your friends will get quiet and think to themselves “shit, what did he mean by another?  I didn’t even have ONE chicken and broccoli meal this week!”  That’s cuz you’re not as healthy as us, SUCKER!

And then Friday night comes and everything goes to hell.  GOOD LUCK TO ME AND US AND EVERYONE WITH LAST YEAR’S SHORTS! (Or in my case, shorts I think I bought at least 6 years ago.)

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When your dog starts barking at a sound they hear in your apartment building, but before you can yell at them to be quiet, they run over to “protect” you.  There’s part of me that kinda’ hopes that one day someone bursts through the door and calls Belle’s bluff.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Shaving.  I’m putting it off because it’s never NOT annoying.  I feel bad that girls can’t grow leg beards and, like guys, just be like “it’s a new look I’m trying out.”  Of course they can, but like…maybe don’t.  Please.

WRITING ABOUT GAMBLING ON THE NBA FINALS IS BORING ME SO I’M GOING TO TAKE A BREAK FROM IT FOR A LITTLE BIT.  PLEASE DON’T CRY LIKE “BACHELORETTE” LINCOLN ABOUT THIS.

K bye.

 

 

 

 

 

“The Bachelorette” Recap: The Biggest Wuss in America. (6/5/18)

OUR WORLD:

Can we cool it with the crying, guys?  Last night’s episode of “The Bachelorette” was embarrassing for men everywhere.  EVERYWHERE.  From Lincoln crying about his picture with Becca being tossed into the pool, to that Southern NOBODY making an ALL-TIME cry-face after he got booted, last night may go down in history as the night millennial’s ruined manhood in America.  This episode, though, was about one thing and one thing only: Lincoln taking the crown of “Biggest Wuss in America”

I’m all for a sensitive moment, here or there, but how come every goddamn moment in this show has to be the guy proving to Becca that he’s capable of embarrassing his grandfather?  Let’s try to go through this as best as I can remember, because I am NOT going to rematch that atrocity to make sure I get the sequencing right (I HAVE WORN A TIE 4 TIMES IN THE PAST YEAR FOR CHRISSAKE!!!)  

The Lincoln Crying Part

First off, Linocln’s accent really does sound like he’s a community theater actor trying WAY too hard.  Now when the episode started and you saw guys acting excited about “being pampered” by getting to put on tuxedos, we all should’ve known that this was the start of something epically embarrassing.  What guy gets his rocks off by drinking champagne and trying on tuxedos?  That’s a fun date for a guy?  Guess I’m more of a loose cargo shorts and chicken fingers kinda’ guy (SWOON ALERT!  Also, I don’t really wear cargo shorts anymore, but I miss the times when I did.) Here’s an idea: let’s drink something that no man ACTUALLY likes while wearing clothes that make you feel like your entire body is choking.  WAIT, DO WE GET TO DRINK CHAMPAGNE IN TUXEDOS?!?! AND THESE DUDES WERE ACTING LIKE IT WAS CHRISTMAS MORNING.  Once I saw this, I turned to the VP with a “something is afoot”-look.  She knew too.

Following this misplaced excitement, Chris Harrison and the GENIUS producers threw a twist in: obstacle course time.  Guess what, Champagne Papi’s?  TIME TO GET MESSY!  YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO CRAWL THROUGH MUD!  They should’ve made the obstacle course ACTUALLY difficult and had them run up to a family member who fought in a war and then have to explain how much they enjoyed the champagne and fashion show. “Hey Grandpa Bill, remember that time you told me about you hunting Nazis in the middle of the night when you were 19?  Well, I don’t mean to show you up, but I’m 26 and just cried because I got to try on a tuxedo.”  COOL!

Lincoln “won” this obstacle course because he cheated.  Two questions: 1) What in the LIVING FUCK was Chris Harrison doing?  Was he too busy preparing to remind all the guys that one rose left on the table means that “this is the final rose” to, I don’t know, POINT OUT BLATANT CHEATING?  This should’ve been Chris “The Captain of I-Have-Done-Nothing-Meaningful-With-My-Life Mountain” Harrison’s shining moment as he swooped in with a hand in Lincoln’s cheating-ass chest to push him back to the ice tub.  But no.  Yet again, Chris Harrison’s inactivity reminds us that he’s television’s most useless human being.  The person who refill’s Hoda Kotb’s backstage wine during “The Today Show” contributes more to the success of that show than Chris Harrison does to this.

SECOND QUESTION:  None of the guys throw a John McEnroe type fit about this cheating?  They just take it like the losers they are.  This was the perfect set up for a star-making comedy turn if one of these guys would’ve lost their mind.  Maybe they get kicked off the show, but at least they’re known as the funny guy who stands up for FAIRNESS!  If it were me, I would’ve taken my shirt off, lit it on fire and whipped it around my head while screaming “WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY BASED ON RULES!!!!”

Later that night, Lincoln and his mood ring of an accent got all emotional when Becca gave him a picture of him with her after the obstacle course “victory.”  Him pretending that this was meaningful almost caused me to punch myself IN THE FUCKING FACE.  “Oh, a picture from earlier today…sweeeeeet….”  Nope, this dumbass picture was enough for Lincoln to declare this as “the best first date” of his life.  OUCH, BRO.  VERY OUCH.  How do you think the “second best first date” of Lincoln’s life went?  The girl kick him in the nuts and staple a “I have no real friends” sign to his forehead?  (“Yes, that girl did fire a staple into my forehead, but my Aunt bought me this ice cream cone so, all in all, it was a pretty good night.”-Lincoln re: the second best first date of his life, as blood pours from his forehead onto his vanilla ice cream.)  

The episode really kicked into overdrive, though, once Fitness Coach Connor (I said I’m not a trainer!) tossed the framed photo of Lincoln and Becca into the pool.  I actually respected the move at the time.  This group of dudes was WAY overdue for a meathead moment, and this was kinda’ close to that.  I was in.  But then Lincoln tattled to Becca which eventually led to Connor giving a HEARTFELT APOLOGY.  WHAT?!?!?!!? Once Connor found out that Lincoln ran to Becca to cry about that dumb picture taking a dive, he should’ve gone to the nearest gun store to buy a sawed-off JUST so he could put it to Lincoln’s head. “Now Lincoln, you’re gonna be a good boy and go back to Becca to tell her that you dropped the picture in the pool and that your good friend Connor dove in to pick it up for you.”  I’ve decided that firearms need to be introduced to this season of “The Bachelorette”.

Instead, though, Connor forced up some “that’s not me”-type apology re: the picture in the pool.  If you weren’t yelling “oh give me a fucking break!” at your television by this point, we may be different species.  Not only that, but that apology WASN’T ENOUGH FOR BECCA.  She still had to throw the “I just need some time” at Connor.  Some time for what?  To remember that grown man Lincoln ran to you like a teacher at recess?  Hey Becca, is that the kind of guy you want to BE THE FATHER TO YOUR CHILDREN?!?!?!

Lincoln wasn’t done, though.  Nope.  No way.  The next morning, while recounting this picture in the pool situation, he started crying in front of a group of guys that weren’t there.  This was the most unbelievable crying situation I’ve ever seen.  UN. BE. LIEV. ABLE.  A 26 year-old man who is built like a friggin’ adonis just cried in front of a group of guys about a picture of him with a girl he had spoken MAYBE 4 sentences to in his entire life.  You know the Starbucks barista you’ve seen a few times?  Now imagine being surrounded by a bunch of strangers, all guys, and crying about a picture of you and that Starbucks barista that was tossed into a pool.  “She always put just the right amount of foam on top of my latte!”  During this whole scene, I was DYING for one of these guys to go into straight-bully mode: point at Lincoln, laugh like any movie villain EVER, and try to stuff him in a closet somewhere in that big, dumb house.  If you showed a video of this scene during an Anti-Bully rally, you’d see the entire crowd shrug like “are we sure we don’t want ANY bullies?”

If you still think that guys with muscles can’t be ALL-TIME-WIMPS, I would like to introduce you to Bachelorette Lincoln, “The Biggest Wuss in America”.

A QUICK JIMMYSCHAIR SUGGESTION IN LIEU OF A “MY WORLD”:

The pilot episode for “Succession” on HBO was one of the best pilot episodes I have seen in a while.  Terrific acting plus solid writing equals ME LIKEY.  If you’re looking for a new show to get into, “Succession” has “You’re going to talk to your friends about this”-written all over it.  Supposedly, other reviews said the episode was “boring.”  Too bad those other reviews are stupid and should be IMMEDIATELY redacted because that is PATENTLY WRONG.  It’s funny and smart, and if you don’t think Brian Cox is the best “angry old-guy” actor going, you need to get your head out of the sand, pal!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I like this remix because I’m YOUNG!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Supposedly, this guy saw this kid messing with a bunch of cars in the parking lot, and tried to put a stop to it.  Aside from hating this kid, the reason I hate this video is that there wasn’t some other kid to act like a hero by jumping in with a tire iron to WHOMP this little brat.  If we’re being totally honest, I would’ve been fine if this adult threw this kid into an active volcano, but I don’t think I can totally advocate for that in a public forum such as this.  If, however, someone the same age as this kid, showed up with a home-run swing and a rusty tire iron, we’d all be happy, right?

 

WRITING ABOUT GAMBLING ON THE NBA FINALS IS BORING ME SO I’M GOING TO TAKE A BREAK FROM IT FOR A LITTLE BIT.  PLEASE DON’T CRY LIKE “BACHELORETTE” LINCOLN ABOUT THIS.

K bye.

Bachelorette Pt. 2 and Acting Young (6/1/18)

OUR WORLD:

Who’s ready for part 2 of Jimmy’s “Rapid Fire Judgement Zone”?!?! I AM FEELING VERY JUDGY THIS MORN!!!!

Jason NY

Jason “Sr. Corporate Banker” (New York):  A banker who uses a TON of gel in his hair is a little too on the nose, right?  This is the kind of guy that only drinks vodka sodas at the bar while gently touching his hair to make sure it’s not out of place.  NOPE.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He stays a little longer than you’d think because he starts to blend into the background and Becca forgets that he’s there.  Then, one night when Becca is having an especially hard time figuring out who to send packing, Chris Harrison reminds her that Jason is still there.  Relieved, Becca sprints to the rose ceremony and tosses Jason out like a surly umpire throwing a high school brat out of a playoff game.  YOUUUUU’REEEEE OUTTTTTAA HEEEEEERRRRRREEEEE!

Jean Blanc

Jean Blanc “Colognoisseur” (Florida):  You know me by now, right?  Take a wild guess how I feel about a guy who collects expensive colognes, talks about “accouterments”, and wears a MONSTER bow tie…Here’s a somewhat controversial take: he’s the least likable person on the show so far.  Hear me out!  We’ll get to the male model later, but this guy seems VERY GENUINE about being a “colognoisseur”.  Like, I don’t think ABC producers have told him to ramp it up.  If anything, I imagine the producers were like “jesus, this dude is REALLY into spray bottles full of smells.”  I don’t have any cologne-guys for friends.  Maybe some of them wear it, but I have never had a friend talk to me about their cologne.  If they did, I would immediately label them “cologne guy” and loudly ask them in public places “What scent did you go with today, Terry?!?!”  Villains are into cologne, not heroes.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  Becca gets rid of this guy in like 3 episodes.  She has to catch on to his ever-changing scents, right?  That’s a red flag, y’all.

Joe.jpg

Joe “Grocery Store Owner” (Illinois):  I want to like this guy more than I did (spoiler alert: he gone)  The VP was ALL IN on this dude, and I kinda’ get it.  He was endearing when he choked during his first interaction with Becca, but he’s a grocery store owner who looks 15 years older than he is.  A Chicago guy with a non-flashy job seemed right up my alley, but then he just…got…a little….too into talking about watermelons.  Hey guy, “I sell watermelons” isn’t an awesome pick-up line.  You think Becca couldn’t wait to call her family later that night to tell them “I think I’m falling for the watermelon salesman!”  Quit fibbing yourself, bro.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He was booted, but The VP still loves him.  This means that for the next 3 months, any guy in Chicago that kinda looks like this guy, she will instantly think it IS this guy and probably call me to brag about being in the same CVS as “that grocery store guy from Bachelorette.”  She won’t even remember his name.  SAD!

John CA

John “Software Engineer” (California):  This guy dropped a HAMMER of a line when he said “I build the Venmo app.”  Becca should’ve married this guy that second.  I like this guy.  He’s normal with a WILDLY impressive job relies on his brain and not him being a slimeball.  I don’t know a TON of engineers, but they’re all the same: side part, boring fashion, even-tempered, smart, stable, and, eventually, will make a BUTTLOAD OF SWEEEEEEEET CAAAASSSSSHHHHHH.  Will this dude make you laugh everyday? Probably not.  But he also will never cheat on you or get heated in a fight about how to speak to a Comcast customer service representative (Literally told me to “be nicer” to this person while I was on the phone.  I almost jumped out the window.  SHE TOOK COMCAST’S SIDE!!!!  I FEEL LIKE I’M TAKING CRAZY PILLS!!!!)

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  Becca will toss this guy soon (maybe already did? Can’t remember) because he’s not SEXY.  Hey Becca, congrats on being an IDIOT.  While you’re taking care of baby #7 and Garrett is out fishing, John will be yacht shopping with his new Victoria Secret model wife.

Jordan

Jordan “Male Model” (Florida):  First, of course he’s from Florida.  Second, my opinion on this dude has evolved since watching the episode live.  This is obviously a put-on, and I’m kind of thinking it’s funny now.  This is the guy producers saw being a little too into himself and said “yeah that, but TIMES A THOUSAND if you wanna be on tv.”  This guy really wants to be on TV, so he’s jumping into the Omarosa-deep-end of the villain pool.  Unfortunately for him, I just don’t think he’s a good enough actor to convincingly pull off the villain role.  He’s no Chad.  If he was SO cocky and full of himself, he would’ve had the stones to talk to Becca one-on-one that first night.  He didn’t and you could see he was nervous.  When those guys were giving him shit for not talking to her, his face had “I’m not this guy I’m portraying” written all over it.  Once you accept that, his whole persona goes from being super annoying, to actually pretty funny.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He stays around through mid-season because the producers have a lot invested in him being the villain.  I hope he keeps trying SUPER hard to be a dick, but then wimps out at the end.  If anything, he is showing every casting director in the universe that he cannot act.  Can’t wait to see this guy on page 26 of an LL Bean catalog in 8 years.

Kamil

Kamil “Social Media Participant” (New York):  This was the 60-40 guy!  WHAT A FLOP OF AN OPENING LINE!  Did he think the way to Becca’s heart was by BULLYING HER into walking towards him?  Becca’s best moment of the first ep was when she refused to go past halfway.  “Social Media Participant”?  So….he’s on Facebook?  How great would it be if this dude’s resume just listed all of his social media accounts?  PLEASE LET THAT BE TRUE!

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He’s heckled with “60-40” jokes for the rest of his life.  Eventually, he’ll change his name, shave his head and move to the mountains to get away from all the derision.  But guess what, Kamil…they have TVs in the mountains too.

Leo

Leo “Stuntman” (California):  My favorite guy on the show.  He’s legitimately funny and I think he owns how his hair is kind of ridiculous.  I’m sure he’s a real weird dude, but he’s the most interesting guy on this show.  Can we please hear stories about all of his “stunts”?  He did fuck up, though, when he didn’t do some crazy awesome stunt when his limo pulled in.  How could he not have crashed the car or jumped a tree in a motorcycle or jumped off the roof to meet her?

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He better stay around long enough to impress the whole cast with some WILD stunt.  There was a shot of an ambulance in the season trailer, and you better believe I’m hoping it has to do with a stunt this guy tries to pull, that goes VERY BADLY.

Lincoln

Lincoln “Account Sales Executive” (California):  Is this the classic bait-and-switch?  I thought this dude was pretty nice, but the trailers for the rest of the season imply that he becomes THE bad guy.  CAN WE TRUST NOTHING?!?! The VP likes his accent a lot and I did say “God Damn!” when they showed him doing some ab workout that looked impossible.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  His whole “scandal” is not going to be nearly as exciting as the season-long trailer made it look.  Is he this season’s Crystal?  Highly doubtful.  UNLESS, the scandal is about his accent!  What if he just changes it from episode to episode?  One episode it’s Jamaican, the next it’s a thick southern accent.  Yeah, that’s gonna be the “scandal” of the season.

Nick.jpg

Nick “Attorney” (Florida):  The VP really really likes this guy and I find that somewhat upsetting.  This guy?  I mean, he’s decent looking but doesn’t he just look like if the bad guy in “The Karate Kid” got a law degree?  And this picture?  A QZ with no undershirt is a WILDLY COCKY move.  I’d imagine this guy telling you that he wants to bang your sister and then not comprehending why that makes you FURIOUS.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He tells Becca that he’s into some really weird bedroom stuff and The VP, trying to save face, has to try to pretend that zipper mask stuff is normal.

These guys don’t matter and I will not waste my time on their SORRY ASSES!

FINAL PREDICTION:  Colton is going to win and there will be a social media movement defending virgins everywhere.  I will feel like a bully for making fun of his virginity and, due to overwhelming public pressure, will be forced to resign my post as “Judgey Blog Writer Who People Don’t Really Pay Attention To”.  It’s been gun, guys.  Who woulda’ thought Jimmyschair would be taken down by a virgin?

MY WORLD:

Tomorrow morning I have to set up a booth at a college music festival.  Northwestern University has an end-of-the-year music fest every year, and the company I work for is a big sponsor for it.  It’s my job to make sure our booth looks good and we’re ready to roll.  This means, however, that I’m going to be surrounded by college kids wearing tank tops and cool hats.  How am I supposed to act?  I’m really not sure.  Being 32, I don’t feel like college was THAT long ago but…like, it was.  In an effort to feel young, do I try to befriend some of these kids?  What’ll probably happen is I’ll try too hard to come off like the cool-guy and will fail miserably.  Here’s what I’m thinking I can talk to these kids about tomorrow:

-Drake vs. Pusha T:  I’ll say something like “Drake shouldn’t have messed with Pusha!” (I don’t like Drake and don’t know Pusha T)

-Music: I’ll say something like “I’ve been listening to a lot of Chance lately!” (I haven’t.  I think Chance is overrated.)

-Politics: I’ll say something like “Just legalize it already!” (Honestly, I hope they don’t legalize weed.  It’ll just mean I’ll have to deal with more peer pressure to smoke it and I’m VERY VERY SCARED OF THE WEED!)

-Sports:  I’ll say something like “LeBron is amazing, but Jordan was–” (and then I’ll catch myself realizing that these 20 year old kids never saw Jordan play.  Me saying that I did would immediately out me as “the old guy”.  DOES THAT MEAN I HAVE TO PRETEND TO LIKE LEBRON MORE?!?! DOUBLEFUCKKKKKKKKK)

-Weather:  I’ll say something like “Dude, sweatpants play no matter the temperature.” (As my legs sweat profusely in my thick 14 year old University of Cincinnati Jordan Brand sweatpants)

-Pop Culture:  I’ll say something like “me too” to myself when I see a guy looking awkward off to the side.  A girl will overhear this and think I’m making fun of the movement…and I will bring SHAME UPON THE COMPANY I AM REPRESENTING. (Jk lol omg I’m legitimately nervous about writing about the “me too” movement in a lighter way…k byeee.)

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

WHOA!  MY NEW CRUSH WITH MY FAVORITE BAND?!?!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you call Comcast because your cable isn’t working and your wife snaps at you to “be nice!” once you start to get JUST THE TEENIEST BIT aggressive with their customer service rep.  If you’ve ever dealt with Comcast, you know that you HAVE to get aggressive to get what you want.  Telling someone mid-aggro to “be nice!” is a quick way to get your head chopped off.  (This has developed into a real fight between The VP and I and I WILL NOT BACK DOWN!)

GAMBLING IS MAYBE MY FAVORITE THING TO TALK ABOUT BUT I THINK IT’S KINDA’ BORING TO WRITE ABOUT MOST OF THE TIME SO I’M GOING TO KEEP THESE SHORT:

I bet the Cavs moneyline last night.  Can you all please just look up at the sky and think about how sorry for me you are?  Thank you.  And to JR Smith, I would like you to know that you let me and my future children down; because of your actions, they will have less bitcoin stock to help them get through college.  Hope our kids are cool with community college!  As for the rest of the series, I’m seeing a Warriors sweep now.  The Cavs looked like they lost they were eliminated from the universe in their postgame press conferences last night.

(My account currently at $0)

K bye.

 

 

Bachelorette Talk and Dog Baths (5/31/18)

OUR WORLD:

Yesterday’s blog was a little on the heavy side (oh my god, are you saying I’m fat?!) so today I decided to write about…CANCER AGAIN!  Wait, no, I mean “The Bachelorette” season premiere.  (Did he just joke about the Big C?  NOT COOL BRO!)  Yeah, let’s get a little light and loose and silly today, huh? LET’S GET BACK TO BEIN’ A BUNCHA GOOFS! (I think this blog sucks now…time to go back to scrolling Instagram and not getting caught by my boss.)

The VP and I were a little behind so we watched (initiating Chris Harrison fake excited voice…) THE SEASON PREMIERE OF “THE BACHELORETTE” on Tuesday night.  Now that I’ve had a day to digest what was a relatively underwhelming opening episode, I am here for all my sweet baby readers (I’M NOT A BABY!) with initial, but definitely right-on-the-money, takes and predictions for ALL of the guys.  Before I do that, however, (get ready for a lot of pictures!) let’s start with the bachelorette herself…

*REAL QUICK, I DO NOT LOOK UP SPOILERS AND I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR THEM.

Becca HerLastNameDoesntMatter:

Becca.jpg

She’s fine.  (HOT TAKE JIMMY IS IN THE BUILDING Y’ALL!!!)  There’s just nothing all that interesting about her.  She got dumped by Arie, has a hand tattoo and is somehow from a family in Minnesota that is OBSCENELY less attractive than she is.  Her sisters and Mother, like no offense, look ROUGH and you know they’ve got to want to blurt out “You know, Becca never looked like this before Hollywood got ahold of her.”  I don’t remember how old that sister with the frizzy hair is, but if that’s an older sister, their relationship is about to go down the tubes and into the sewer because that older uggo CANNOT be seen in the same room as Becca EVER. AGAIN.

Becca has also, somehow, made “Let’s do the damn thing!” as her catchphrase.  I have two thoughts on this: 1) If anyone I was around ever said “lets do the damn thing!” I would most definitely not do that damn thing because people that say that are LAME.  2)  If you replaced “damn” with “fuckin”, I would immediately think that Becca was WAY cool and would probably develop a lil’ baby crush on her.  Imagine if after she met the first guy out of a limo, she slapped him on the ass and yelled “Let’s do the fuckin’ thing!”  How awesome would she come off?  Nope, she stuck with ‘damn’ and outed herself as a LAME.  Also…real quick, real quick, how much can you root for a girl who was “head over heels” in love with that Professional Douche, Arie?  If I found out that The VP of Ops had been dumped by someone along those lines, let’s say Russell Brand, I would’ve judged her HARSHLY and probably gone back to living my CRAZY AWESOME SINGLE FUN-TIMES-ALWAYS!!!!LIFE (PARTY TIME USA 4EVA!)

With a certified “Meh” girl to go after, this show NEEDS some high-quality television characters in the guy pile.  Let’s see if we have any…I like to call this Jimmy’s “Rapid Fire Judgment Zone” aka “NOT PLANET FITNESS!” (If Planet Fitness sees this, I’m worried they’ll revoke my membership and I’ll be forced back into a gym with…like, nice facilities and less nerd B.O.)

Alex (GA)

Alex “Construction Manager” (Georgia):  The VP likes this guy because he’s southern and was wearing a pink shirt.  He was only in the background the whole show so he’ll be gone in NO TIME.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION: Kicked off in the next 2 shows and you’ll never think of him again in your entire life.

Blake (CO)

Blake “Sales Rep” (Colorado):  Bro, cool it with the smiling!  This guy is good looking but I’m getting a real creepy vibe from him because he NEVER STOPS SMILING!  I get it, all Colorado people are happy all the time cuz like “hang loose on the gnar pow!” but doesn’t your face hurt after holding a smile for 9 straight hours?!  Also, a “Sales Rep” who never stops smiling has HE’S TRICKING YOU written all over him.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  This guy will stick around for a while because he’ll talk about outdoor stuff with Becca.  She won’t pick him, but I’ll say he’ll make it to the final 8.

Chase FL

Chase “Advertising VP” (Florida): Weird hair. Weirder collar. GET OUT!

OFFICIAL PREDICTION: He was already kicked off.  He’ll go back to Florida and, for the next 4 months, will open every conversation with “Do you watch ‘The Bachelorette'”?

Chris (FL)

Chris “Sales Trainer” (Florida):  First off, way too many Florida guys this year.  That’s never a good sign.  This dude is SLIME CITY and if you don’t see that you are one blind bitch.  He trains people how to lie.  He’s a Master Liar.  (Wait…I work in sales too…but like it’s way different…completely different….)

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  We’ll all get to a point with him where we’ll be like “okay, this dude is full of shit, time to get rid of him!”  Then Becca will annoy us by keeping him around for 2 more episodes.

Christian Banker.jpg

Christian “Banker” (California):  Was this guy kicked off yet?  I think so.  If not, he will be.  He’s short and not in Superman shape, which in “Bachelorette”-terms is a “GONER!”

OFFICIAL PREDICTION: This guy knew he was gone the second he was picked for the show.  He should’ve just gotten bombed in the house tried to steal something.

Christian Globe.jpg

Christian “Former Harlem Globetrotter” (California):  This dude literally dunked on Becca and it was AWESOME.  He’s in my top 3 favorite guys so far.  Can they just have a part of every episode where he dunks on someone who’s not expecting it?  Like, out of nowhere, a hoop shows up and he’s posterizing one of the other guys.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  At some point, being a FORMER Harlem Globetrotter is going to catch up with him.  He’ll stick for like 3-4 more episodes and we’ll all be kinda’ sad when he leaves.

Clay

Clay “Football Player” (Illinois):  I know I’m supposed to love this guy cuz I love football and I’m from Illinois.  But…uhhhhhh….he’s a doof.  Professional athletes needing to go on a dating show is a major red flag.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  This is like the wrestler guy from the last “Bachelorette” who talked about his daughter way too much: he’s nice and he’ll stick around for a while, until Becca starts getting creeped out because he’s a little too nice.  Nice guys don’t finish last.  Nice guys who take it to the moon finish last because they have no personality aside from “just trying to make you happy.”  BLUGH.

Colton.jpg

Colton “Former Pro Football Player” (Colorado):  I’m going to be as honest with you all as I can be; I liked Colton until I found out he was a virgin.  Is that wrong? He’s 26 and was in the NFL and said something like “it’s not about a religious thing, it’s about finding the right woman.”  Jeez dude, relax and get laid FOR ONCE!

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  This guy will be in the final 3 and I’ll feel guilty all season for kinda not liking a guy who gets Cystic Fibrosis Vests for kids just because he’s a virgin.  THANK YOU COLTON!

connor

Connor “Fitness Coach” (Florida):  What the fuck is a “fitness coach”?  A trainer?  If he came up with that job title himself, RESPECK.  Fitness coach sounds way cooler than trainer.  This guy has good hair, but is it too high? IT’S PRETTY HIGH, GUYS!

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He’ll hang until like final 8ish, then Becca will be like “yeah, his hair is too high.”

Darius.jpg

Darius “Pharmaceutical Sales Rep” (California):  This guy is another one who had to have known he was gone once he took a look at the other dudes there.  If you’re not stupid handsome OR funny, you’re in the deadzone.  HE GOT DEAD.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He immediately regrets having been on this show when a Doctor makes fun of him for “being on that show my wife watches.”

Connor Venture

David “Venture Capitalist” (Colorado):  This is the guy in the chicken suit.  I know we’re supposed to think of him as “the funny guy” because he wore a chicken suit, but it wasn’t funny.  If he would’ve just clucked the whole show and refused to actually speak like a human, that would’ve been funny.  Instead, he just wore a chicken suit and didn’t do anything funny.  Also, he’s 25 and a “venture capitalist”?  Does that just mean he’s a rich kid looking for something to invest in? Not in on this dude.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He’s gone in the next 3 episodes.  Once Becca is off-camera and realizes that she was just giving him courtesy laughs in the first episode, he’s doomed.

Garrett.jpg

Garrett “Medical Sales Rep” (Nevada):  Okay, I realize that I’m hating on most of these guys pretty hard and…it will continue with this guy.  Don’t you hate people that LOVE telling you how they’re “all about living in the moment”?  They can’t wait to talk about how FUN they are!  That’s Garrett.  Guess what, if you’re living in the moment you wouldn’t be telling people that you’re “living in the moment”…YOU’D JUST BE LIVING.  Did that get too meta? Also, much like Chicken Guy above, Garret was trying WAY too hard to be funny.  What’s funny about driving up in a van?  He has soccer balls and a baby seat in the back because…he wants that one day…THAT’S WEIRD!  Think of all of the guy friends you’ve EVER HAD IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE.  Now, would any of those guys do something like that? No, because you’ve never been friends with a certified weird WEIRDO.  He won the first impression rose which I thought was strange until I remembered that Becca is the same girl who was in love with Arie.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  He’ll make it to the Final 3 because Becca won’t want to admit how wrong she was.  As the season goes on, his fake smiles and fake laughs will begin to grate on you.

Grant

Grant “Electrician” (California):  I like this guy because he’s not OVERLY good looking and he’s an electrician.  That’s a real man job and if Becca knows what’s good for her she’ll let him her check her outlets (all the electricians reading this LOVE that joke.)

OFFICAL PREDICTION:  He didn’t get much screen time in the first episode so that probably means he’s gone in the next 2 weeks.  If I were him, I’d cut the power to the house when no one is looking and then act like a hero when I was the only one able to get the power back.  Real “look at me, I’m a blue collar hero”-move that he should DEFINITELY utilize.

Jake.jpg

Jake “Marketing Consultant” (Minnesota):  This is the guy Becca kinda knew from home.  She sent him packing because he didn’t make a move on her when they hung out or something?  It was weird/vague reasoning from her, so I was starting to feel bad for this guy.  Then, when the camera showed his face he looked like he was about to cry and I was out on him.  You can’t cry in the first episode; everyone knows this.

OFFICIAL PREDICTION:  Gonna be hard for this guy to overcome the “Cry Guy” label for the next few months.  If I saw him in a bar, I would be very tempted to go up to him and ask if he was okay, then run back to my friends laughing like a REAL BULLY.

*Okay, wow, there are a lot of dudes here.  I’ve gone through half.  I’ll get through the next half next blog.

MY WORLD:

I wrote a lot about personal things yesterday, so today’s will be a little shorter (is it about cancer again? Dear God, please say no!) I gave Belle a shower last night because our apartment doesn’t have a bath (stand-up shower people!) AND IT WAS DIFFICULT.

Since I feel uncomfortable being naked around my dog, I did it wearing gym shorts and once we were done I had ZERO idea how to try her off.  I really think it’s impossible to dry a hairy dog all the way off if you live in a smallish apartment.  We went through like 3 towels and I shot my hair dryer at her for at least 18 minutes and she was still sopping wet.  There needs to be a dog robe invention or…like some sort of bubble-boy contraption that I could wrap Belle in until she’s fully dry.

That’s it.  That’s my million-dollar idea. “Bubble-Dog”: An inflatable suit to put your dog in when they’re out of the shower.  You know that game where people get in those huge inflatable balls and roll down a hill or run into each other? It’s like that, but it closes around your dog’s entire body.  GODDAMNIT, YOU’VE DONE IT AGAIN JIMMY!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I am V into the new CHVRCHES album.  Also, I have developed a very very very serious crush on the lead singer.  It’s serious guys, so like, please don’t show her my blog from yesterday.  Here’s my fave song off the album AND you get to hear my sweet love crush talk a little with the audience first.

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Getting a new driver license and totally botching the photo so you look like a psycho on your official ID for the next few years.

GAMBLING IS MAYBE MY FAVORITE THING TO TALK ABOUT BUT I THINK IT’S KINDA’ BORING TO WRITE ABOUT MOST OF THE TIME SO I’M GOING TO KEEP THESE SHORT:

I went on a tear.  Took $200 out of my account and put it into Bitcoin.  I honestly think I will someday get rich off of this.  Now, to the picks.  LeBron killed me in that Game 7.  I bet against him even though EVERYONE told me not to.  Now, I’m scared to bet against him.  The Warriors are giving 13 points and I think they should blow them out, but the Warriors have been sleepwalking through these playoffs.  I’m thinking the Cavs keep it somewhat close tonight, so lets roll with them.

(My account is currently at $20 ON THE NOSE!)

K bye.

 

 

 

 

Procrastination Nation and Under-The-Radar TV (5/17/18)

MY WORLD:

Are you a procrastinator?  ME TOO!  Sometimes I’ll go on like 3 week spurts where I’ll be super productive and “ahead of the curve” and then…oh, I don’t know, The VP and I will start “Game of Thrones” AND PUSH EVERYTHING ELSE TO THE SIDE.  All of a sudden, it’s Mid-May and both my drivers license (“license” is a hard word to spell FYI.  I’ve never gotten it right on the first try) and my city sticker expire in June.  Which means, folks, that I’ve basically missed the deadline to renew both of these by mail and now I need to go to the DMV in-person.  WAY TO GO, ME!  WAY TO ADD AN ABSOLUTELY MISERABLE CHORE TO YOUR LIFE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T PLAN AHEAD!  LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I GIVE YOU JIMMY “THE ASSHOLE IDIOT” POMERANTZ; GIVE HIM A ROUND OF APPLAUSE!!!

The most messed up part of this whole situation is that I remember getting a reminder about renewing my city sticker a few months back, looking at it and saying to myself “I’m probably gonna forget to do this until the last second and, therefore, force myself to go to the DMV in person.”  Seriously, I remember it like it was yesterday.  The only thing is, it was funny then, and it’s NOT FUNNY now.  When I was a boy in schooling (I don’t know why, but saying “when I was a boy in schooling” with a British accent is making me laugh V hard) I remember all of the sleek justifications for procrastination.  The schooling I’m talking about, mind you, was when I was in grad school for screenwriting (I’M LIVING MY DREAM!).  A bunch of my classmates and I would read stories of famous writers who would talk about how “all writers are procrastinators” that our framed procrastination as being almost necessary to become a successful writer.  Guess what, guys? That was total bullshit.  All writers aren’t procrastinators.  All writers get nervous when they don’t have anything to write about and then they distract themselves from facing the blank white screens because it white = failure.  DROPPIN’ TROOF BOMBS Y’ALL!

I, however, am a legitimate, red-blooded American procrastinator, and here are the things I constantly find myself addressing either at the last minute or…after the last minute…Is this an attempt to take the sting out of my failures by finding fellow procrastinators?  YOU BETCHA!

Buying toilet paper before I run out

I thought I’d get better at this after college…then after living with 3 dudes…then after getting married…and I’m still terrible at it.  If I was in a job interview tomorrow and they asked “what are some of your weaknesses?” I would be forced to tell them about how often the paper towel roll ends up in my bathroom.  It’s sad how I’ve perfected the art of tearing apart the plies of paper towel so as not to clog the toilet with a too-absorbent tissue.  Usually, it’ll take about 3 days of me walking into the bathroom and seeing the paper towel roll awkwardly hanging off the toilet paper holder for me to make a trip to CVS to rectify the situation.  Could The VP of Ops step in here and make a trip herself? Yes, but she has the FANTASTIC excuse of “well, I don’t have a car.”  For as useful as having a car is, I do wonder if the excuses I’d be able to unlock by NOT having one would be more beneficial…

Doing the laundry before I’m forced to wear the emergency pair of loose boxers

Past the age of 27, most men make the switch from boxers to boxer briefs.  Screw a Bat Mitzvah, this is when a boy becomes a man!  (Bar Mitzvah? Bat Mitzvah? You get what I’m saying.)  However, we all keep like one pair of boxers to be worn “just in case”, and that “just in case” is just in case we put off doing laundry to the point where we run out of clean boxer briefs to wear.  The “Just In Case”-Boxers will be kept in most men’s underwear drawer for a minimum of 49 years.  (Mine are from mid-college.  The elastic is BARELY working and they have multi-colored christmas trees all over.  If you happen to catch a glimpse of these peeking out above the waistband of my jeans someday, best keep your distance).  It’s not flattering, and we know that, BUT! Who’s gonna see them?  Seriously, it’s like having a fire extinguisher in your house; you hope you never have to use it, but you’re happy it’s there just in case.  These loose, awful feeling boxers are also kinda’ necessary because they do FORCE me to do laundry that same day.  Going into day 2 wearing my loose, christmas tree trunks is an absolute nightmare scenario.  NIGHTMARE. SCENARIO.

Checking my credit card balance before it gets declined at a restaurant and I act super surprised in front of everyone that heard the waiter tell me “this one didn’t work”

I JUST DON’T WANNA LOOK!  Quick aside: The VP hates when I talk about money stuff.  She’ll say “I don’t want people to think we’re living under a bridge!”  We’re not living under a bridge.  We’re actually doing relatively TOTALLY FINE, but that doesn’t stop me from throwing EVERYTHING on my Citi card so I can get POINTS POINTS POINTS!!!  (I’m a slave to points, guys.)  But then, what’ll happen is, I know I’m getting close to my limit but I put off looking at my account online because I don’t want to have to face how much I’ve spent on Cliff Bars and Waters (and candy) at 7-11 over the past 10 days.  When I do finally go to check my account online, I definitely hold my breath and wince while the “recent transactions” page loads.  Sometimes I just get so nervous that I bail out of the site before it loads (‘load’ is a funny word).  Much the way girls do, I have a “that time of the month” period where every time I hand over my Citi card (free advertising…maybe throw some points my way?) it’s a roll of the dice.  I’ll try to watch the server at the computer terminal to see if they’re running the card more than once.  If it’s more than once, I’m dead.  If they’re shaking their head or rubbing the strip on the back of the card, also dead.  If I can see this ahead of time, though, I at least have however long it takes them to get back to the table to come up with a feasible excuse.  “Weird, I thought I activated that one”-is a go to.  However, if I’m unable to see them at the computer terminal, and they sneak up on me from behind with the “I’m sorry sir, but there seems to be an issue with your card”-I’ll momentarily panic.  My instinct is to shoot a flared-nostrils look at The VP and yell “RUN!!!” Unfortunately, The VP is simply not fast enough to keep up with me.  Knowing this, I’ll usually just make some self-deprecating joke about how expensive my Peanut M&Ms habit has become.

OUR WORLD:

Are we all officially overwhelmed with the amount of television choices?  Over the past few weeks, while proudly crowing about how The VP and I had finally started “Game of Thrones”, I was normally met with a “oh that’s nice, but you HAVE to check out this show!”  If you can’t tell, I love T.V.  We all love T.V.  I’m not even counting the people who say “I don’t own a TV” because they are not people…they are animals (TOPICAL JOKE ALERT!!!)  

But sometimes too much of a good thing is bad.  (Is that the saying?)  I say this because I was planning on writing reviews of G.O.T. (that’s how cool people refer to “Game of Thrones”.  I’m part of that club now.  AND, YEAH, IT’S A BIG EFFIN’ DEAL!!!)  but then I realized that nobody would want to read reviews of a show that are SEVEN YEARS TOO LATE.  My bad on that one.

So, if like me, you’re feeling overwhelmed by every one of your friends telling you to watch a different Netflix show, I’ve compiled a list of OLDER/UNDER-THE-RADAR shows and movies that hold up.  I’m guessing you haven’t seen these or, if you have, its been so long since you have that re-watching them would be like watching them for the first time.  These are not in any order because I don’t want to get into that bullshit.  They’re just good (or I’ve heard they’re good from V reliable sources).  Giddy up!

  1.  “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” (NBC TV Series):  It’s just good. (I know, I watched it.)
  2.  “Deadwood” (HBO TV Series):  I’ve heard it’s good from V reliable sources.
  3.  “In Bruges” (Movie): It’s just good.  (I know, I watched it.)
  4.  “Boss” (Starz TV Series):  It’s just good. (I know, I watched it.)  
  5.  “Reno 911” (Comedy Central TV Series):  It’s just great.  (This show is way too overlooked when the topic of “best comedy series” of the past 20 years comes up.  This is in the discussion.  TRUST!)
  6.  “Adaptation” (Movie):  It’s just fantastic. (An all-time great screenwriter + Nicolas Cage at his best = YUP!)
  7.  “Moon” (Movie):  Think “The Martian” but grittier and more realistic.  Sam Rockwell is the most underrated actor going right now.
  8.  “Terriers” (FX TV Series):  I’ve heard it’s good from V reliable sources.
  9.  “Rescue Me” (FX TV Series):  It’s great and it has been long enough for me now that it’s entering into the “may be time to re-watch that”-category.
  10.  “Zodiac” (Movie):  The more I remember this movie, the more I think I loved it.  Downey Jr and Gyllenhaal at their best.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Top 5 Funny TV Character is “Terry” from “Reno 911”

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When a new person moves into the apartment below you and thinks that talking outside on speakerphone at 11:49 P.M. on a Wednesday night is appropriate.  (ANGRY OLD MAN ALERT!)

I DON’T WANT TO BRAG BECAUSE I’VE BEEN ON A REAL HEATER TO THE POINT WHERE I’M GOING TO ACTUALLY WITHDRAW FROM MY GAMBLING ACCOUNT, AND PUT THOSE WINNINGS INTO BITCOIN.  THIS IS NOT A JOKE, I’M A BITCOIN INVESTOR NOW AND I’M THRILLED ABOUT GETTING TO RIDE THE WAVE ON MY WAY TO BECOMING MEGA-STINKY-RICH.

I mean, I think the new section title says it all.

(My account currently at $327.55)

K bye.