We’ve All Agreed We’re Never Going To The Gym Again

OUR WORLD:

Yesterday it was announced that Illinois will move into Phase 4 of the “Yeah, whatever” reopening plan this Friday, which means that gyms will be allowed to reopen. These gyms will be asked to limit capacity and do a bunch of weird shit that probably won’t help much at all, and the penalties for not doing this weird shit will be…nothing because how can you enforce any of this? What I don’t think the government and gym owners have realized, though, is that conclusions are reached when patterns of behavior are altered. And Illinoisans, by virtue of the 3 month long “don’t do anything!”-orders, have concluded that paying to go to a gym is a moronic waste of money and we will never do it again.

For people that do value working out and fitness (fuckin’ nerds) the past three months has been about finding other ways to stay in shape and, you know what? They’re preferable! While they do have workout equipment and locker rooms, a gym’s primary function is to put you in close proximity with people with who do things that annoy the EVER-LOVING SHIT OUT OF YOU! Exercise? Yeah, an exercise in self-restraint, maybe. Such as, “if the guy on the elliptical next to me doesn’t stop FaceTiming with his ex-wife, I will NOT kick the outside of his left knee and explode his leg. I will NOT do that! I won’t!” And then, 6 seconds deeper into his FaceTime marriage counseling session, you reconsider and decide that maybe jail is worth it.

By now, we’ve all learned that we can run outside for free! That push-ups and bodyweight exercises are effective, even though they may not look as cool as lifting dumbbells in front of a mirror. You know what you were doing in front of that mirror, right? (Uh…checking my form.) Stop it. You were admiring looking momentarily-yolked while hoping the girl who dates the better-looking, richer, more secure version of yourself, will walk by, catch that same view and…(I don’t know what he’s talking about, honey! I swear, I go to the gym because they have the specific equipment I need to sculpt my traps! I don’t even notice other people there, honestly!)

What else have we all been missing about going to the gym? Well, how can you forget about how relaxing the steam room is, right? You know, that small room where it’s hard to see but easy to smell? That room where you walk in after working out with a towel around your waist, praying to LordBabyJesus that Terry “No Towel” Thompson isn’t sitting, spread-eagle next to the only open slot left. Don’t worry, though, if “No Towel” is taking a day off, there’s sure to be the guy who thinks this room is meant for making new friends! (I like making friends, though…) Yeah because my idea of relaxing after a hard workout is sitting in a superhot, smelly room with the uber driver who is known for having “great conversations!”

Please don’t forget about the people who take naps on equipment you’d like to be using in between their 19 sets. Just ask them if you can hop in for a quick set, right? Nah, you’re forgetting this is the same person who is ALWAYS “I’m almost done.”

“Oh, so that’s a no?”

“Yeah, that’s a no. Now please let me get back to my public nap while wearing a dry-fit shirt THANK YOU VERY FUCKIN MUCH!”

Yeah, but the treadmills with the televisions right on the front are really nice to run on, at least! You’re right! I especially love when the ONE CHANNEL I want to watch is currently scrambled so instead, I get to watch minor-league softball practice on ESPN3 while trying to figure out how to turn off the closed captioning. Now, of course, you could simply go to the front desk and tell them that the only channels that aren’t having seizures are the ones showing “Big Bang Theory” and “Alf”, but you’re forgetting that the front desk employee is required to respond to that with a blank “why would I ever care about that?”-stare. (I miss those stares!)

And finally, before we decide to never walk into one of these rip-off palaces again, do me a favor and remember how great the Wi-Fi is. Whenever there’s more than, I don’t know, ONE PERSON IN THE ENTIRE GYM, the Wi-Fi starts to sputter. So as you’re shaking off the cobwebs from last night’s bender on the creaky elliptical, and juuuuust starting to vibe to that new Weeknd song, it stops and you see the spinny thing next to the little WiFi signal. “Oh cool, I’ll just switch over to data now and run up my already overpriced phone bill! JUST WHAT I WAS HOPING TO ACHIEVE ON THIS FUCKING ELLIPTICAL!”

You know that sense of pride and accomplishment you used to have when walking out of the gym? It wasn’t from having just completed a workout. It was from not hurting yourself or anyone around you while inside that building for the past 64 minutes.

Gyms re-opening? We’re good, but thanks!

Wait…what do you mean I have to call another number and send a fax and an e-mail and a carrier pigeon with a gimpy wing to cancel my membership?

MY WORLD:

Dieting is so fucking frustrating and stupid. It is. It is. IT IS! I have now gone one full week without eating any carbs, and I’m not back to my wedding weight yet. And yes, I have been telling myself, “it’s just one week,” and “this has to be a sustained effort,” and “remember how tight last summer’s shorts felt when you tried them on 9 days ago?” But, last night during an episode of “Ozark”, I saw the kids eating at a greasy hot dog stand, and I immediately stopped paying attention to whatever was happening in the show (Drugs! Guns! Scary!) and just started thinking about how much I love French fries.

Now, even the morning after, as I drink my blandass coffee and prepare for yet another day of zero exciting culinary experiences, French fries are dominating my thought pattern. It does not help, DOES NOT HELP, that I weighed myself over the weekend and I was back at my initial weight even though I’ve been working out AND HAVEN’T CHEATED ONE GODDAMN TIME ON THIS DIET! I’m eating fish and vegetables and zero bread or sugar. I’m drinking water, carbonated water to try and trick myself into thinking it’s soda, white wine, and Michelob Ultras. I haven’t had a craft beer in nearly 2 weeks now, and I WORK FOR A CRAFT BEER COMPANY.

Meanwhile, it appears that I have reached the age where whenever I run, the next morning I will feel like I was in a car crash. The morning after walk down wood stairs is so painful that I have thought about crawling or just giving up completely and not leaving my bed ever again, becoming an ever-expanding blobman and telling my job “why? What’s the point anymore?” I’m 35, not 90, but my morning walks around the house look like I’m trying to recreate a scene from an old monster movie where the monster can’t bend it’s knees and has a permanent pained facial expression.

So since running is so hard on my body now, I do the exercise bike in the basement. I set up my laptop in front of the cheap bike I bought, and follow along to Peloton classes. The instructors are normally really in shape which makes me think, “this shit works!” And while I’m doing them, and sweating like a pigbeast, there’s no way that they’re not going to make me super shredded in no time! But I swear to god, the second I’m done, and have caught my breath again, this demonic brain parasite flies into my ear and infects me with the “Yeah that was cute, but it wasn’t a run”-echo. By the time I trudge my fat, sweaty ass back upstairs the coat of sweat may as well serve as a cloak of “yeah, but I didn’t run”-disappointment.

Am I being dramatic about all of this? Of course, but isn’t there enough awful shit going on right now that I shouldn’t have to also sacrifice eating food that makes me instantly happy? Yeah, there’s the collapsing depression that follows, but what drug is better than a fried potato dipped in sugary red sauce (KETCHUP!)? Or after a long day of working a job that now feels completely different and one thousand percent harder than it was 3 months ago, I get to treat myself with…the LaCroix of beers? I swear, I could drink 18 thousand Michelob Ultra’s, and on Ultra number 17,999, while in the ambulance being rushed to the hospital for “wait, he’s drank how many beers?” I’d still be sober enough to know that Michelob Ultra’s taste like spiked, old-man fart water.

So the diet is going great and I can’t wait to attack the day and enjoy my snack of a handful of mixed nuts in a couple hours!

INITIAL “GREAT, NOW I HAVE TO DIET” WEIGHT: 202.6lbs.

LAST WEIGH IN: I don’t want to put it in writing because if I don’t put it in writing, it’s not real.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

That moment after talking to someone when you’d normally shake hands and now you don’t know what to do so you make some dumb air-five gesture and then want to kill yourself.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

K, bye.

That First NFL Sunday Morning of the Year

*Trying something new-ish today. From time to time, when I don’t feel like there’s a ton going on in either “my world” or “our world,” I’m going to fantasize about something that I am realistically excited about. I’m going to call it “34-Year-Old Dude Mundane Fantasy Time”

34-YEAR-OLD DUDE MUNDANE FANTASY TIME:

-First NFL Sunday Morning of the Year-

Close your eyes with me for a little bit (yes, even if you’re driving). It’s the first full NFL Sunday of the year, and since you stopped yourself after beer #3 last night , you’re up before 7am. You kinda wake your wife up on purpose as you make your way out of bed, but you pretend like it’s an accident, and say something like “shit, I’m sorry. Hey, I’m going to the gym.” She needs to know that you’re going to the gym (those not-washboard-abs be damned!). You get to the gym and make eye contact with a few people inside. Guess what? This is the responsible adults club and, by showing up early on a Sunday, you’re now a part of it; don’t forget to pick up your “Look-At-Me-Not-Wasting-Plastic”-tote bag.

Now what you do during this gym visit won’t matter as long as you’re there for at least 48 minutes. The bike with the recliner seat on the back? Yeah, that’s fine. But, keep in mind, if you actually do break a sweat, then you can get a bagel on your way back. NFL Pregame shows are on every single television, and most of the people there are wearing some sort of Bears something. As you climb on the elliptical (the winner of the “hey, it’s not the easiest machine in here”-award) you share a look with the woman next to you, and connect…”Go Bears,” you say. Unfortunately, she was wearing headphones, which was obvious because headphones aren’t invisible, so now she’s scrunching her face and taking her headphones off mid-workout. “No, no, it’s ok-” but it’s too late.

“What did you say?” She annoyingly asks.

“Nevermind, sorry.” Okay, minor bump in the road. Don’t let it derail your First NFL Sunday mood. DON’T CRY! STOP CRYING!!! Distract yourself by pushing yourself into those supremely awkward “is this what running in outer space is like?”-elliptical movements. You’ve got a fantasy football podcast going and guess what? THAT HEADPHONE WEARING STRUMPET NEXT TO YOU BE DAMNED!!! YOU’RE FUCKING BACK! Matta’ fack, take a look at what resistance she’s doing, go a few levels higher on your machine and make a promise to yourself that you won’t get off your elliptical before she gets off hers….NO MATTER WHAT! If she catches you looking at her screen, that’s fine. Let her deal with her own insecurities, did Jordan feel bad for dunking on white guards? Not your fault that you’re a psychopath elliptical killer.

After dominating a 50 minute elliptical session, guess what time it is? Yep, it’s time to walk out of the gym and over to the bagel and coffee place a half block away. Before returning to your kingdom, you must treat the hungover scoundrels to a “this is what an adult looks like on a Sunday morning”-show.

You know you’ve earned a bagel with extra cream cheese, so order that shit, but make sure you loudly say “excuse me!” while pointing at your very sweaty t-shirt to anyone who gets close to you. If you feel like expanding that to a “excuse me, I got up at 7 on a Sunday and worked out for an hour which is why my shirt is so so so sweaty and I don’t want you and the sleep in your eyes to accidentally touch it and be grossed out,” that’s fine. A little long? Sure, but being isn’t being completely honest always okay?

Once you get back to your apartment, with an extra iced coffee for your VP of Ops (not my VP, right?…Wait, what? She said she was staying at her friends last night…) Your VP will, most likely, have something like Food Network, or Not-Football on TV, but once you walk in she’ll know that her television minutes are numbered. How mad can she get, though, when you hand over her iced coffee, made exactly the way she likes it, AND you offer to split your bagel with cream cheese with her? You debated the entire ride home whether you’d offer to split the bagel, and decided that there’s no way out of it (why didn’t you just get a second bagel YOU IDIOT!!!)

“Half for you, half for me,” you say while praying that she says ”no thanks, you earned the whole-”

“Perfect! Thanks babe!” As she extends an open hand….

Okay, that did not go as planned and now you’re really sad, BUT! BUT! Working out following by only half a bagel? Get ready to try those college jeans on again because you are now OFFICIALLY SKINNY! (Make sure you give her the bottom half of the bagel. Enjoy that plain-ass bottom babayyy!)

It’s a little before 10am, so you’re practically tingling with football electricity right now. You’ve got 11 minutes to shower before the least horrible NFL pregame show starts, so clock is ticking, But, once you get in the bathroom, you look down at your phone and remember, “I haven’t told my group chat that I worked out yet.” The chat is on fire about fantasy and gambling bullshit, but you passively insert yourself by texting out something that starts with “now that I got the gym out of the way…” Now they know. All the other slobs in the group now feel guilty for eating their unearned toaster strudels. Mission Goddamn Accomplished.

It’ll seem like you should shower while listening to that Fantasy Football Podcast, but come on, even you know that podcast is boring. (Are there people in the world that take silent showers?) So switch it up for those last 9 minutes before NFL Pregame and put some music, like Eric Church or Darius Rucker’s “Wagon Wheel” on. I’m talking music that screams good times, beers and sun. Even if it’s raining. Sing along in the shower, and while it doesn’t have to be loud enough for Old Wifey to hear it, if you’re feeling into it, don’t hold back. This is your friggin’ day, random 34 year-old dude.

Towel around your waste, stroll through the living room holding your Eric Church-blastin’ iPhone while doing that cool sway strut on your way to change. If you’re really looking to enter that “annoying, but funny”-zone, I suggest standing directly in front of the television your VP is watching and pretending not to hear her when she asks you to move. It’ll start as funny, then she’ll get bad, but if you hold strong, it’ll return to funny. Be patient.

Change into your stretchy jeans (what an invention!) and that Bears t-shirt you bought in college, but is big and soft enough to still not look ridiculous. When you re-emerge from the bedroom, donning your best NFL FanDude uniform, be prepared for your VP to play some whole “I’m not giving you the remote”-game. Now, listen carefully because this is a very dangerous time for all of us. At first, you’ll think it’s cute when she holds the remote away, or sits on it, or runs into the other room with it. But when she continues for that extra 1.3 minutes, that may extend to the start of that pregame show you’re aiming for, DO NOT ENTER THE LEGITIMATE ANGER ZONE. GUYS! IT’S NOT WORTH IT! This means avoiding the following:

Throwing a harsh cuss in, like “just gimme the FUCKING remote!”
Saying “I’ll just watch it in the bedroom” and then, having re-entered the bedroom, slamming the door.
Bringing up the coffee and half bagel you got her no less than 16 minutes ago in an attempt to drown her in guilt lagoon.

Just be cool, be cool, EVERYONE BE COOL!!! (But be careful not to fake-laugh too hard either because that’ll just extend this).

When she relents, feel free to drop a “you know what? Actually, you wanna watch one more ‘Barefoot Contessa’?” and when she begins to light up, give her the old “PSYCHHHHHH!!!! FOOTBALL TIME BABAYYYYY!!!”

Phone in hand, computer screen on the coffee table in front of you, it’s football time. The only thing left is your inner countdown to when you can crack that first beer. I say as long as you’re within 30 minutes of game time, you’re golden. And if that feels like forever away, remember that your “get out of beer jail”-card is a bloody mary.

Wait, you hear that?

My Farewell to Planet Fitness and Your Remote Control (8/2/18)

MY WORLD:

The past few weeks have included a lot of introspection for me. Quiet times and deep exhales and staring off into distances while silently wrapped up in my brain. What has caused this? God, I can’t believe I’m going to admit this, but this blog is nothing if it’s not honest; the cause of this introspection has been Planet Fitness. (I knew it.) When I was at a red light and an old woman wearing a cape was crossing the street, I was thinking “is she on her way to my Planet Fitness?” When in a dirty gas station bathroom while out on the road, I was thinking “does this Shell station outsource their bathroom cleaning jobs to Planet Fitness?” When dreaming about running into Anna Kendrick on a quiet street, working up the courage to ask her out and as she’s about to say “I’d love to” she spots the Planet Fitness tag on my keychain and starts vomitting violently while screaming “I NEVER TOOK YOU FOR ONE OF THEM!!!” Well Anna, your sweet baby Jimmy has some news for ya: I am no longer a Planet Fitness man. That’s right, I told the judgment free zone to kick rocks and maybe LEARN HOW TO USE A FUCKING MOP!

Between “the people” and “the smells” and “the facilities” and “the employees”, I feel like I’ve been withstanding a slow waterboarding at the hands of Planet Fitness since I joined. “ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE OKAY WORKING OUT NEXT TO A MAN WEARING JEANS AND A COWBOY HAT WHILE ON A PURPLE TREADMILL?!?!”-Said the Planet Fitness manager as he slowly dripped water into the towel covering my squirming face. For all of you out there who are thinking that $10 per month is too good of a deal to pass up, take heed: you get what you pay for, and 10 dollars gets you a gym that smells like a 2 day old Chipotle burrito bowl.

With Green Day’s “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” playing in the background, I’d like to take a trip down my Planet Fitness memory lane. I promise you, all of the following mini-stories, while maybe slightly exaggerated, are true.–TAKE IT, BILLIE JOE! “It’s something unpredictable, but in the end it’s right, I hope you had the time of your life.” (*I did not.)

SO TAKE THE PHOTOGRAPHS AND STILL FRAMES IN YOUR MIND

Now that I’ve escaped the purple hellscape that is Planet Fitness, there are certain images, still frames if you will, that come to mind when I think of my time there. Some of these include:

–The walls on the inside of the changing room: After a while, I realized that changing into my gym clothes in the locker room was a daily test of whether or not I suffer from claustrophobia. The locker room was small and overcrowded and dusty. However, this being a “judgement free zone”, I discovered that there were private changing rooms that nobody seemed to notice or use. I could go in there, change at my leisure and not accidentally brush up against 8 dudes who live a “showering is optional”-lifestyle. For a while, my private changing room time was nice and vital to my sanity in this gym. I’d escape the crush of the locker room, change in peace and prepare myself to power through the workout I was about to embark on. It was therapeutic, really. Then one day, I walked into MY private changing room, closed the door, and…”holy fucking shit, there are black hair shavings all over the white wall.” It was as if Planet Fitness had caught on to my changing room bliss and called a meeting to address the situation. “This fuggin’ guy is only paying $10 a month, we can’t let him enjoy the cleanly solitude of that changing room. Who has any ideas?” That’s when a close relative of Sasquatch himself, must have walked into the meeting room with an electric razor and a smirk. I’m not kidding, it looked like they shaved a gorilla and then came in with a fan to make sure all the shavings stuck to the white walls. So my private changing room time was ruined forever because all I could think of when I went in there after that was that there HAD to be little hairs still all over that place.

–The unfinished woodworking station that sat in the corner of the “stretching area”. Nothing says “take a deep breath!” than a pile of uncut wood and stacked cans of paint! Don’t believe me? Here’s a screenshot from an insta post I made about this corner months ago.

pfit

–The handicap bathroom stall door on the ground. For as big as this Planet Fitness is, they only one men’s room that had only 3 bathroom stalls. Now listen, public pooping isn’t fun for anyone, but it’s a necessary evil that all adults must come to terms with; ESPECIALLY, at the gym. When solo rooms with locks and one toilet don’t exist, then we have to rely on stalls and…lets be honest, we’re all hoping to sneak into the handicap stall when no one is looking. Yeah, that’s me slithering in and out of the handicap stall when I don’t hear any footsteps in my immediate surroundings. So, obviously, I would try to do this here as well. BUT, yet again, the Planet Fitness Fairies must have caught on to my sneaky sneaky plan because basically every week the door to the handicap stall was somehow broken and just left on the ground. Seriously, just laying on the ground. After about 4 straight days of seeing this door on the ground, I asked an employee if they were going to fix it and the employee said “yeah, like, I think we have the door on order.” Who knew Planet Fitness imported their bathroom stall doors from Egypt?!?!? Then, whenever it would arrive, via crawling camel from Egypt, the door would be up about 14 minutes before some neanderthal asshole would break it again and put it on the floor.

IT’S NOT A QUESTION BUT A LESSON LEARNED IN TIME

–When you walk into most gyms, the front desk people will grab your keycard, swipe and give you a “thank you!” or a hearty “have a good workout!” It’s nice. At Planet Fitness? You walk up to the front desk, hold up your keycard and are met with mouth-open, eye rolls from staff members eating pizza while reclining on computer chairs. After an awkward few seconds, one of these very hungry staff members will flay open their hand towards the scanner. This, in lazy person speak, translates to “scan your card yourself.” After a while, I knew that reactions like this were coming, but I’d still try to force my card towards them as my form of protest (when’s the march?) I DON’T WANT TO SCAN MY FUCKING CARD! YOU DO IT! Seriously, why are they there? They’re not cleaning the private changing rooms, fixing the handicap bathroom doors OR scanning membership cards. Are they actually getting paid to wear a purple sweatshirt and eat Little Caesar’s near a bunch of smelly people sweating?

–As the calendar turned to summer months, I started noticing that my Planet Fitness was doing its best surface of the sun impression. A box with a wall of windows facing west is an issue when those windows have no issues and, you know, THE SUN SETS IN THE WEST. This means that every day during sunset, also known as the most popular time in the day to go to the gym, this PFit was SCORCHING hot and you were staring at the sun while on your dumb purple fucking treadmill. Okay, they may not have shades, but they have AC, right Jimmy? THANK YOU FOR SEEKING CLARIFICATION! That’s what I thought because I saw thermostats and big AC looking units on their roof when I’d drive by. Then, one day I went for a normal run at a normal pace on one of those purple treadys. About two miles in I felt like I was sweating like Patrick Ewing in his prime (look that reference up. It’s funny, I swear.) Being the stubborn bitch that I am, I forced myself to finish the run; bypassing all of the warning signs of heat stroke along the way. Tough boys like me don’t have heat strokes so…I was in the clear. When I got off the treadmill, I checked the thermostat and it read 86. So I went to the front desk, asked for the GM and asked if there was an issue with the AC or if this is just how it is in Planet Fitness. His response? “Hmmm, I don’t know.” And that was it. He smiled like “I gave your question thought, gave you an answer, and I am now completely satisfied with how this interaction went.” As all of the muscles in my body tensed (so many muscles guys…so many!) I ran some mental math: hairy walls + broken bathrooms + rude employees + no air-conditioning = $10. Essentially, I was paying to be EXTRA miserable while working out. You know why most people at Planet Fitness aren’t in good shape? Because it’s already hard enough to go to a nice gym and force yourself through a workout. Imagine trying to get through a productive workout in your Uncle Larry’s “secret woodshed”.

That day, I decided that not only was I done at Planet Fitness, but that I was going to DEDICATE THE REST OF MY LIFE TO EDUCATING POTENTIAL CUSTOMERS OF THE HELLHOLE THEY ARE ABOUT TO SIGN UP FOR. If I can spare one young soul the horror of those purple fucking machines, my plight will have been worth it.

FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH, IT WAS WORTH ALL THE WHILE

It most certainly was not.

OUR WORLD:

Football is back and so is negotiating for television time with your wife. If you, like me, had kind of forgotten that football was right around the corner, you still have time to ensure that football is on your main television ALL SATURDAY AND ALL SUNDAY starting at the end of the month, when the real games begin. It will take sacrifice and strength and CHUCKLING AT THINGS YOU MAY NOT FIND FUNNY. Here are the steps fellas:

For the next 3 weeks, whenever you are home, give the remote to your wife and say “I don’t care what we watch.”
She will be caught off-guard and start suggesting shows. This is a test. Don’t say “yes” to every show. Instead, wait until about the 4th show she suggests and act SUPER EXCITED about that show (whether you are or not).
Project genuine interest in this show that she has picked for every episode you watch. Ask questions, laugh at her insights, point out plot holes. THIS MUST SEEM LEGIT GUYS! THERE’S NOT ENOUGH TIME TO PLAY AROUND!!!
In 3 weeks, when college and pro football start, grab the remote first thing Saturday morning to put on Gameday. When your spouse says something that The VP would say, like, “how long are we going to watch this?” You need to respond by gently reminding her that you have watched HER SHOW for the past 3 weeks. After like two weekends of 48 straight hours of football on television, she’ll give up and probably go to her friends or maybe cheat on you and end your relationship BUT AT LEAST YOU’LL GET TO SEE IF MITCH TRUBISKY HAS TURNED THE CORNER!!!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

FOOTBALL HYPE VIDEO SEASON!!!!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Dear Planet Fitness,

JIMMY GAMBLES

Am I betting on the Bears in the Hall of Fame game tonight? YOU BET YOUR ASS I AM!!!

k bye.

Spring is Coming and Gym Rules (3-13-2018)

OUR WORLD:

Now that daylight savings time has arrived (or left? What’s the difference?) I have started my official countdown to Spring activities! ACTIVITIES! Yes, it’s 31 degrees outside today, but it’s sunny and it’s March 13 and GODDAMNIT I CAN’T TAKE THE WINTER ANYMORE!!! People who live in cold weather cities turn into fatter, sadder, angrier versions of themselves from November through whenever it’s 55+ degrees for three days in a row. This past February, I got so fed up with everything that I bit my steering wheel. And when I say “bit”, I mean I kinda screamed and definitely chomped down on it. You could see teeth marks in my steering wheel for a few hours. There’s bitter cold, shoveling, salt stains on everything, darkness, you have to put those fuckin booties on your dog every time you go outside, and wear that jacket that makes you look puffy AND I’M BITING MY STEERING WHEEL!!!! That’s what a Chicago winter is like; you bite your steering wheel.

So, once March hits, you start thinking about the activities you’re going to get to do that will signify making it through the wars of winter. It’s a time of hope, that lasts until…god, we’re gonna have another snowstorm I know it…

Drinking a beer outside: You’re toasting right in the face of winter once you’re able to do this. “Hey Winter, have fun with the dumb penguins in Antarctica!” It’ll probably still be a little chilly when you have your first outside beer of the season, but you’ll pretend that you’re not shivering and don’t need a jacket. (I said I’m done with jackets!) It will always be my favorite Chicago sight to walk around the blocks of bars in mid-March when it’s 53 degrees and EVERYBODY is sitting outside pretending they’re not cold. It’s such a meatball/hardo-move, but the entire city takes part in it. We are all meatballs.

Pretending you’re excited at a Cubs game before mid-May: Going to Wrigley is straight fantastic, but April/Early-May games are BRUTAL and you’ll never admit that to your friends. Every year, you’ll get invited to a game where the weather won’t be great, and you’ll have to fake that you’re blown-away-excited about going. While there, however, all you’re thinking is “Jesus baseball is slow, this beer stinks and I. AM. FREEZING!” Then you’ll smile at your friends and talk about how glad you are that “baseball is back!”

Buying a new pair of shoes that look AWESOME only when wearing shorts: I bought a pair of light tan leather slipper shoes (don’t know what those are called) that had little pineapple-bombs on them last year. It was a pretty hipster purchase for me, but I was blinded by my early-March excitement and convinced myself that, with shorts, I’d look like one sexy papa in ’em. The next 40 days of wearing mostly pants (and not the pineapple-bomb shoes because they look no bueno with pants) definitely cooled my excitement about these shoes, but the act of buying them is a tradition that is not worth abandoning. This year, I’m thinking, wait for it, about boat shoes. It’s been a while since I rocked the boat shoes and shorts look, but I’m thinking since my wife is southern and Jimmy Good Times LIVES for the summer months, that boat shoes are a due for a Jimmy comeback. (I will be nervous about what people at work say about me wearing boat shoes, but I’m a brave boy. Dad? YOUR SON IS A BRAVE LITTLE BOY!)

I’m aware that full-on warm weather is a ways out, but just shut up and let me dream for once in my miserable life. This is the time of the year for hope. I hope that I’m going to gamble myself into millions during March Madness. I hope that I get to drink a beer outside in the next 2 weeks. I hope that I don’t have to shovel my car out of a parking spot and then get in my car only to get cut off by a guy wearing a skull cap before 7:45 AM. I hope I don’t have to bite my steering wheel again.

MY WORLD:

There are people that go to the gym, that have no right to be there and I feel it is my duty to stand up and say “GET OUT!” While the majority of my time inside the greasy purple walls of Planet Fitness is spent trying to not look at the clock, the remaining time is spent convincing myself not to say anything to the mutant next to me. It’s rush hour traffic with body odor and no laws, I’m amazed there hasn’t been a real life “The Purge: Planet Fitness”. (No, I have not seen any of “The Purge” movies because they’re scary and “Unsolved Mysteries” gave me nightmares as a kid.)

Now, I am aware that some people get nervous about going to the gym. I have friends like this (I call them “Slobs”). I think I understand the fear of being a gym beginner. Nervous about not knowing what to do, not knowing how machines work, being judged for getting gassed after 4 minutes. I get it. I feel like that when I go to the weights section now, after not lifting for like 5 years. (Do what I do when you get gassed super quick; grimace and grab your arm. Try “working it out” by stretching your arm and then shake your head all disappointed like “damn, when will these war injuries heal?!?” Boom, sympathetic character.)

I’m not talking to my “Slobbo” friends (it’s making me laugh, but I don’t mean it). I don’t want to ban beginners. I simply want to institute some rules for the roads. This is what I propose:

1) If you are “the smelly guy/girl” who can’t seem to shake B.O., then you either have to wrap your pits with industrial saran wrap, or wear a MINIMUM of 6 thick sweatshirts to hide the stink. Look, thankfully I have not been cursed with chronic B.O. and while I’m sympathetic to those who have been, there MUST be more awareness. When I’m on the treadmill and Shteve (not “Steve,” his name is “Shteve”), the data miner/amateur gamer, gets on the one next to me with his nerd B.O. I have to stop myself EVERY TIME from stopping my treadmill just to glare at him while shaking my head. (Instead, I’ll normally do cool passive aggressive things like audibly sighing or coughing.) I don’t know if B.O. is like a medical issue without a cure (probably? right?) but you can’t dare people to offend you by pretending it’s not there. (Did you say I stink? YOU’RE A STINKIST!) Listen, I get some gnarly looking rashes on the backs of my knees sometimes, and you know what I do? I WRAP THEM UP BECAUSE I AM SELF-CONSCIOUS AND DO NOT WISH TO SUBJECT THE PUBLIC TO THIS HORRIFIC SIGHT! In short, if you stink, get out.

2) When getting dressed in the locker room, pants go on as soon as humanely possible. What childhood trauma happened to these people who put their shirts on first? If you put your shirt on first when getting dressed, your credit score should be docked 800 points because it’s time you leave this society. Now, I don’t know about ladies locker rooms (because I don’t go in there, but I do have certain dreams about it and I do not wish to hear about your stories that do not align EXACTLY with my dreams. Thanks for understanding,) BUT, men’s locker rooms in gyms that have men over the age of 50 are an absolute horror show. I think something snaps with guys who have been married for 20+ years where the only way they can remind themselves that their balls actually do exist is by parading around their gym’s locker room in a shirt and no pants. “Look everyone! My testicles ARE here! All of these mirrors and your horrified faces are proof!”

Ladies, this is a common thing in Men’s locker rooms. An older dude will shower, come out of the shower and put the towel around his shoulders as he SLOWLY saunters his fat ass back to his locker. Once there, he’ll sit down (BARE-ASS!) on the bench in front of the lockers for a not-so-quick breather. Men like me (sane people) gasp at each other, in a whispered panic, to remind each other that this is not okay. Old Balls McGee then, FINALLY, begins to get dressed only to disappoint EVERYONE IN THE HISTORY OF SOCIETY when he puts a shirt on and hits pause on the dressing process. (Wait? You’re done? NO!!! SIR!!! THE PANTS!!! THE PANTS!!!) He’ll then take a lap around the locker room to make us all feel bad for his wife before using the hair dryer on the 8 hairs still in his dome…AND THEN HE USES THE SAME HAIR DRYER ON HIS BALLS IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR!

If the FBI hasn’t already begun forming a task force, I have lost faith in my government.

3) If you are walking on a treadmill next to your companion and carrying on a conversation the entire time, you might as well be at home. I’m not saying you can’t talk to someone, but the gym is a stop-and-chat-zone ONLY! When I can’t fully hear my Bill Simmons Podcast because you’re too busy recounting why your boss sucks to your friend for 45 minutes, I should be allowed to chop both your heads off with an axe (I have thought of the appropriate punishment for this offense for years, and there’s no way around it, the loppin’ off the head with an axe move makes the most sense.) Listen, I’m not a fan of treadmill walkers to begin with, but if you’re able to carry on a full conversation throughout a “workout”…YOU’RE NOT WORKING OUT! You’re supposed to be panting, or at least focusing on how to breathe normally so you don’t pass out, fall down and get shot back into the wall by the belt of your treadmill. (One time, I closed my eyes while on a treadmill, took a wrong step and got catapulted into the wall behind me by the treadmill. Unrelated, I did not get laid in High School.)

What these walker talkers must understand is that everyone else in the gym is trying to distract themselves from the fact that they are in the gym. That’s why there are televisions and podcasts and music. It allows you to zone out, and forget that you’re doing something that’s not that fun. However, once that zone-out-zone is penetrated by your shrill voice and dull stories, the illusion disappears and we remember that we’re in fucking Planet Fitness and not eating Salt & Vinegar chips while watching Sportscenter. The way you would never wake a sleepwalker, do not disrupt the workout zone-out.

That’s it, guys. Those are the 3 main rules: No stink, no balls, no talk. There are many other things at the gym that annoy the shit out of me, but I will keep those to myself like a proper Irish-Catholic rage bottler that I am. If you are a gym newbie and you follow these rules…I don’t know, I’ll probably find something else you there that’ll annoy me because I LIKE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT PEOPLE I WILL PROBABLY NEVER GET TO KNOW!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Almost warm = spring = baseball = fathers and sons making grown men strangers cry with sweet moments like this

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

UCLA’s play-in game is tonight against St. Bonaventure and I’m going to bet on UCLA (-3.5) because I went there and I have never seen St. Bonaventure play basketball. Do I think UCLA is any good this year? Not really. BUT! When you’re dumb and don’t know anything about one of the teams playing, but you like to gamble, you put money on the team you want to root for. Classic Jimmy move here.

(My account currently at $59.11)

K bye.