Tag: music

Worse Jobs Than Yours! (4/30/18)

OUR WORLD:

It’s a Moody Monday, and even though it’s sunny and kinda’ warm outside, it still STINKS.  When I took Belle out for a walk this morning, she barked at an older woman on a bike.  The bike woman replied to the barking by immediately stopping, shaking her head in a disapproving manner and saying “that is quite the reaction.”  So my Monday started with a judgmental stranger.  I wanted to be like,”was it worth stopping your bike and going through that whole dramatic routine?”  I didn’t say anything, but I hope she gets hit by a truck carrying grenades.

If you can’t tell, I really need to make myself feel better by getting into today’s “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job list.

Grocery Store Pianist:  I guess you can call yourself a professional musician if you get paid to play the piano at a grocery store, but that’s not going to take away the disappointment coming from your parents and the $65k they WASTED on your college education.  (That was a really mean way to start this section.  MOODY Monday is ALIVE!)  Have you ever had the moment on Sunday when you’re wandering through the pasta aisle, talking yourself out of buying all the pastas, and you hear music that sounds live?  Then you’ll glance around and see that someone thought it would be a good idea to put a GRAND FUCKING PIANO by the paper towel section and there’s a dude in a big dumpy suit ACTUALLY PLAYING IT!

You know that guy has to be nervous the whole time he’s there that someone he went to high school with is going to recognize him and ask “so how’s the music thing going?”  That’s not to say that these pianists are bad, actually I’m normally impressed (not many bands looking for piano players?) but when your job immediately elicits “why do they pay someone to do that?”-responses, you’re in a tough spot.  Seriously, what is lost if the grocery store just…I don’t know, put the pandora piano music station on?  Would there be people that would ask for the manager and be like “where’s the paper towel section piano concert that I was promised?”  ALSO! the tipping situation is a no-win for everyone involved.  You can’t ask the pianist if he accepts tips because that’s super awkward.  The baggers and cashiers have no idea.  Then if you do tip the pianist, maybe you’re making him feel worse (like a beggar!).  But if you don’t, and he was expecting it, then he’s not making money.  BUT WHO BRINGS PIANIST TIP MONEY TO MARIANO’S?!?!

The only people who genuinely appreciate this person, the ones who applaud at the end of the songs, are looked at by EVERYONE ELSE IN THE STORE like real weirdos.  They’re the same people who applaud pilots when the plane lands.  We get applauded for doing our jobs now?  And the pianist probably doesn’t like it cuz it draws attention to him and raises the chances that someone he knows will recognize him.  I’m sure they play it off like “I just love playing music,” but that’s garbage because they probably had to apply for that position.  It’s not like a Mariano’s manager was just taking a stroll, overheard someone playing a GRAND FUCKING PIANO, and asked if they’d share their gift with the loyal patrons of the paper towel section.

Auntie Anne’s Pretzel Maker:  Ever feel like you’ve eaten only carbs for an entire day and then you retrace what you’ve eaten and YOU HAVE ONLY EATEN CARBS?!?!  Then you get sad and look in the mirror and suck your cheeks in and tell yourself that “diet starts tomorrow.”  If you’re an Auntie Anne’s Pretzel Maker, you are surrounded by delicious smelling, buttery salty carbs all day, everyday at work.  Don’t tell me “oh, you’d get sick of it” either.  There’s no better smell in the whole wide world than the pretzel stand in the mall food court.

If that’s your job, though, and you’re trying to be frugal because…I mean because you work at Auntie Anne’s…then you probably get a free lunch as part of your shift.  Which would be nice unless you’re just starting your diet and all Auntie Anne’s has are BUTTERY TWISTED CARB LOAFS!  Has anyone in the history of the universe ever ordered anything OTHER than a pretzel at Auntie Anne’s?  Pretty sure they don’t have salads, so the pretzel maker’s free lunch is either “with salt” or “without salt” (who in the fuck get’s “without salt” btw?)

So you’re just sweaty, probably covered in a thin layer of butter, not making that much money AND unable to EVER start a proper diet.  I bet the pretzel makers look over at the salad stand in the food court and ask for trades, but the salad people are like “nah, I just cut out carbs.  Smells great, though!”

Old Timey Shoe Salesman:  The old guys in the suits who are super sales-y and try to talk you into trying shoes on and then treat you like you’ve never put a shoe on in your life.  They have that real shiny shoe horn thing, and their WAY too comfortable handling your feet.  Once they’re at that level, there’s no turning back because those skills don’t translate to other industries.  Not like a pharmaceutical sales company is gonna be like “now tell me about the time you shoehorned that coalminer’s swollen foot into the penny loafer.”  That’s just your job forever.

But what about the process that desensitized these people so much?  Nobody is just automatically comfortable handling strangers feet, right?  (There’s gotta be one guy reading this who just looked over his shoulder and is like “I mean…sounds good to me…”)  How about the first time a woman with smelly, scabby feet came into your section?  You could see that she wasn’t wearing socks, but it’s not like you had to see it because you could DEF smell it.  You get fired if you refuse to help her, and I don’t think you can wear surgical gloves.  We’re talking skin-to-smelly-scabby-skin contact here, folks.

MY WORLD:

The VP of Ops is back in town after being gone most of the past 2 weeks, and it has been somewhat of a rocky readjustment period.  Is it just me, or when your spouse leaves do you IMMEDIATELY revert to your single ways and then kinda’ fight when they get back because you’re used to living like a bachelor?  The VP took my car to Trader Joe’s (a place I’d rather NEVER SEE AGAIN) and came back all “Don’t worry, I threw out your chewing tobacco tin.”  Then she walked past me all nonchalant with a little smirk to make me feel REAL small.  So I hit her back with a “so happy you’re back!” but I didn’t laugh because I was going for something deeper.  Counter-punching, ever heard of it?

Then our spring cleaning turned into me watching The VP just create bigger messes while rearranging furniture to “open the room up.”  Maybe just crack a window next time instead of dumping all our mail over the floor? But then I’m not allowed to be mad because I wasn’t doing anything (because it was Sunday and I was in full-on do-nothing mode).  So we just kind of didn’t say anything to each other for a while except the occasional “I love you” to break up the silent-fight we were having.  Being married is fun.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I could not be more excited about the Bears drafting Roquan Smith and I spent the majority of the weekend looking up videos like this…

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When parents talk to their kids like adults in public in an effort to sound funny, but their kids don’t understand it so they keep crying.  Confused?  Think of a parent saying something along the lines of “I am not understanding your viewpoint on this issue” to a crying kid.  It’s not that funny and it doesn’t help settle down the kid.

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

I got absolutely demolished this weekend.  I’m telling myself to take tonight off…but that probably won’t happen.

(My account currently at $108.14)

K bye.

Wednesday Work Robots and Missing Immaturity (4/25/18)

OUR WORLD:

 

Wednesday is such a day for adults.  The midpoint of the weekday grind is the exact point where you don’t know where or who you really are anymore; you’re just the person who puts on the least wrinkled shirt in your closet and walks your dog before disappearing into a computer screen for 9 hours (9, not 8, because you’re a GOOD WORKER BEE!)  Throughout the day, some people will make hump day jokes because of that talking-camel commercial and you’ll kinda chuckle because the word “hump” is funny.  But, all you really want to do is not talk to ANYONE and just blackout until late Thursday afternoon when Friday’s rays of sunshine begin to poke through your office blinds.

This grind is such a mature mindset.  I remember coming out of college and trying to treat every night like Friday because “I like to have fun!”  The thought of basically transforming myself into a work-robot during the week was too sobering for Jimmy IT’S ALWAYS GOOD TIMES.  And while this maturing is good for the health of my brain and body, I’ll have instances where I daydream about getting to be immature again.  Don’t you?  Like, don’t you just want to take your shirt off in the middle of your office sometimes and run out while screaming “I’M FREE!!!”  You’re not gonna do it, but it’s funny to think about.  Thinking about EXPLOSIONS of immaturity is what gets me through some of life’s most mundane and scary situations/settings; and I think if you’re not partaking in this exercise as of yet, it might help you as well.  So today, I’d like to start a new Wednesday tradition on Jimmyschair and write about “places where you really want to act more immature than is socially acceptable”:

The Dentist Office:

You probably haven’t gone in over 3 years and it’s getting to the point where you’ve convinced yourself that “something real bad is happening.”  I went for the first time in like 5 years a couple months ago (not to brag) and was POSITIVE the dentist was going to take one look at me before calling a Priest to read me my last rights.  (Spoiler alert: I’m still alive and it wasn’t that bad).  But your imagination runs WILD to the point where you start contemplating “what if I just never went to the dentist again?  People in olden times didn’t go and they seem to be doing okay in most of the movies I’ve seen them in.”  That is until you throw a pile of almonds in your stink-trap of a mouth, bite down and feel like an a-bomb went off inside your back molar.  The “oh fuck, something’s really wrong in my mouth” is a top 1 worst feeling in life.

So you finally make an appointment, but you’re really hoping that an alien bomber plane will just blow up the world before you actually have to go.  But that never happens because you have bad luck, so you go to the dentist and have to be MATURE and pretend like you’re not that scared.  Wouldn’t it be great to be immature here?  Like, just walk into the dentist office crying.  Go up to the receptionist wildly shaking your head and weeping “I don’t wanna go! I don’t wanna go!”  Then when the dentist emerges with his scary surgical mask, you literally SCREAM BLOODY MURDER “GET AWAY FROM ME! NO! NO! HELP! MOM HELP!!!!”  The dentist would have to try to calm you down by speaking on a sweet voice and assuring you that “everything is gonna be okay.”  But you still wouldn’t totally believe him as you sat down in that murder-chair.

Then they’d turn the lamp on and ask you to open your mouth, but since you’re still in immature-mode you just refuse to.  The dentist’s assistant would kneel down next to you and maybe rub your shoulder a little to calm you down (wouldn’t that be nice as an adult?  Guess what, kids aren’t the only ones scared of the dentist!)  So then finally, after being talked to like a baby, you’d open your mouth a little and they could begin to clean your teeth.  It’s not bad at first, but then they start scraping and you LOSE IT again.  This time, it’s a full-on “get away from me!”-fit to the point that they have to konk you on the head with a mallet to continue the cleaning.  I don’t know about you, but if my dentist appointment included being knocked out cold by a mallet-to-the-dome, I’d consider that a win for the mere fact that I wouldn’t have to hear all the drilling noises.

MY WORLD:

I’m not gonna lie guys, I am supes biz at work (cute way of saying I’ve thought about crying on a semi-regular basis over the past few weeks).  So that’s my world right now: being super busy, feeling bad that my dog is alone for way too long during the day and trying to cool it with the “I worked hard today, so I deserve to binge on candy tonight.”

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Did you think I was kidding when I said I was about to go on a big Death Cab for Cutie kick?

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When “Chicago Fire” is filming two blocks away from your apartment building and, therefore, blocking off 2 streets worth of parking.  So when you get home at night, there is no parking left and you have to park like 9 blocks away on a street known for muggings.  I’ve never watched this show and, if you do, I’d ask that you please stop.  Thank you for your service.

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:

Cool thing happened to me last night, I forgot to bet on Milwaukee until midway through the first half.  Which means that I got them at (+11.5) and they covered!  San Antonio also covered, so I went 2 for 3 last night!  This parlay kid could use one hitting, but at least I’m not on some big smelly losing streak or something.  Got a bunch of games going tonight, and here’s what I’m thinking as of now:  Jazz, Wizards, Rockets, and Bucks all against the spread.  Will my thinking change between now and gametime?  Quite possibly.

(My account currently at $182.80)

K bye.

 

 

Being Single Stunk and Haircut Anarchy (4/24/18)

OUR WORLD:

The VP of Ops was out of town most of last week, got back on Sunday and left again this morning for the next 3 days.  I have officially left the “being alone is fun!” phase of her being gone, and entered the “well, who’s gonna listen to me bitch about my day?” phase of missing her.  Call me a romantic, but getting to whine about relatively benign daily happenings to someone who is GUARANTEED to agree with you is one of the main advantages of being married.  Actually, part of my vows alluded to this when I wrote: “I promise never to spare you a detail of the times when an older woman will inadvertently cut me off in traffic.  I promise to assign said woman some malicious motive that I fully expect you to agree with when I recount the story to you later that night.”  Guys, I’m like so kidding about having written vows–we’re not those kinda’ weirdos.  It’s called a joke!

Which is a long winded way of me saying that I do not miss being single.  For those who are good at it, congratulations; you won’t enjoy the rest of today’s “Our World”.  You live in a world that I am not a part of, if you’re good at being single.  For me, and I believe many of us, the world of being single sucks, and here are the parts that suck the most:

Feeling compelled to talk to strangers at bars:  Obviously, I can only speak to this from a guy’s perspective, but going to bars while single and hoping to meet a future LOVAH! is a terrifying prospect.  What happens is you stand around with your friends trying to not look like you’re scoping everyone out, but you are and it’s SUPER obvious when you keep missing the straw to your vodka soda (you are watching cals BIG TIME when single).  There will be the mega babes who are WAY out of your league, but you’ll spend about 9 minutes trying to come up with a snappy one-liner to level the playing field.  Something along the lines of “hey…uh…getting to date you would make my dad real proud of me.”  Unfortunately, Babe-a-tron 5000 doesn’t know how reluctant your dad is to offer praise, so that’s gonna be a swing and a miss.

What’ll happen most of the time, is that you’ll just stand around your dumb friends, not approaching ANYONE of the opposite sex.  Instead, opting to just get progressively drunker until somebody gets a text from a girl they know that is at another bar.  “She have friends?!?!?  HAS TO, RIGHT?!?” Is what you’ll be thinking, but you’ve gotta play it cool, so you’ll act like “sure, guess I’ll go with you.”  Then you’ll get to the next bar, realize that the girl does have friends, but those friends are not impressed with sarcasm OR outfits from Old Navy’s Spring, 2011 collection.  It’s okay, though, because by this time you’re drunk-STARVING and ready to eat your feelings away.  THEIR LOSS!

Having to explain to your grandparents why you’re not married with kids yet:  I swear to god, once you hit the age of 22, all grandparents expect you to be married with a kid on the way.  Old days were a wild time, during which, I guess everyone was married with 3 kids and a big house by the time they were able to rent a car?  That’s the way they friggin’ act at least.  Every family dinner when you’re single will include the “why are you still single?”-portion of the meal with your grandparents quizzing you on what exactly is going wrong.  It’ll usually be a potential critique wrapped in a compliment, like: “You’re a handsome, smart kid, you should have no problem finding someone.”  Unfortunately, when you’re single and, therefore insecure, that sounds more like: “The problem must be your personality.”  Seriously, how are you supposed to respond to that?  “Well thanks Grandpa, but I do have problems finding someone because I’m now out of college and approaching women in bars, or grocery stores, or gyms makes me so scared that I literally think about KILLING MYSELF!”  WARNING: Grandparents do not find humor in suicide jokes.

Playing the 3rd Wheel:  The main reason that playing the third wheel sucks is that you’re almost like the unpaid entertainment for the couple that night.  I always felt the need to go a little harder, be a little funnier, be a little extra-er when I was the third wheel.  Like, the couple had to be thinking: “if Jimmy bores us at any point in the night, we can just bail.”  Your couple friends will ALWAYS assure you that “you’re NOT the third wheel,” but…uh…you are because you’re the third person there and your pants are a little tighter than normal because you ate a big sandwich for lunch so you feel ROUND, LIKE A WHEEL!

Then will come the part of the night where you’ll kinda’ glance at someone across the bar and the couple you’re with will see this, and convince you that you NEED to approach this person.  Funny how everyone in a relationship IMMEDIATELY forgets how much of a no-go that proposition is when you’re single.  They’ll give you a “what’s the worst that could happen?” or “I think she just looked at you, too.”  They’re lying.  Trust me, they’re lying about this 100% of the time.  All they want is some free entertainment; getting to watch someone strike out with a potential mate IN PERSON is something I would pay to see.  In fact, there should be a viewing section at the biggest single bars in the city.  Wouldn’t you pay to go to one of these massive, DJ-booth, single meat markets, and sit in like in the security camera room?  They could have a charismatic storyteller, narrating the pick-up attempts going on throughout the club, and you could just watch it and be thankful that it’s no longer you as the star of this horror-show?  There really should be a channel called “Single People in a Club” which just shows security-cam footage of clubs around the country on Friday and Saturday nights.  I’d vote for someone like Hannibal Burress to narrate the scenes (I really wanted to say Louis C.K. for the narrator but…like…he can’t come back yet, huh?  We sure?  Okay. Okay!)

MY WORLD:

I know today is supposed to be the “A Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The VP of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable”, but since I’m not an ABSOLUTE monster with endless stories of me pissing off my wife, I’m going to write about the haircut I got on Sunday.  (Calm down!  Calm down!  YOU CAN’T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT!)  

As you know by now, I get my hair cut at a salon because I am a fancy boy who likes STYLE!  Or, mostly because I want to get my head massaged by a professional head massager person.  So I’ve been going to this hip place called “Fringe” for the past couple years where I may be the only male client.  (I’m sure this isn’t true, but anytime I’m in there, I’m the only guy there so…maybe it is true?  YOU DON’T KNOW!)  Now, I only get my haircut like 2 to 3 times a year because I’m lazy and try to convince myself that I can pull off long hair a couple times throughout the year.  Normally, around like month 3 post-haircut The VP of Ops will toss a “your hair!” my way one morning when I wake up with especially sexy bed head (sexy or, as The VP would put it “gross and not sexy in the least).  So I’ll wait another few weeks before the VPs jabs start to actually hurt and then, finally, make an appointment.

For the past 2-3 years I had been getting my haircut by this girl named Tori at Fringe.  She was good, not great, but whatever, I wasn’t that picky.  Until last time when Tori wasn’t available, but it being a hair-emergency, so I just went with whoever was available.  A woman named Leah was assigned to my mangy head, and lemme tell ya’, WE CONNECTED!  She gave a top-notch head massage while washing my hair (during which I made a joke about how close to purring I was that she took in stride and even gave me a courtesy laugh for!)  She then gave me a killer haircut and was just a DELIGHT to converse with.  Not too much talking, but enough that I didn’t feel drown in any awkward silences.  I left thinking about two words in regards to Tori: SHE GONE!

After wearing a hat for most of the past 2 months, I finally made a second appointment with Leah this past Sunday.  Unfortunately, I did not plan ahead and ask if Tori was going to be there.  So when I walked in to “Fringe” and Tori was sitting at the reception desk, I had to make a split-second decision.  “Hey!!! Our system is down, so I didn’t know you were coming in!” said an excited Tori.  To which I responded, “Yeah, my name is Jimmy and I’m here for a 12:30 with Leah.”  My split second decision was to act like I had no idea who Tori was.  I barely made eye contact with her as she responded: “Oh, okay…yeah, I didn’t know who you were with.”  It’s one of the coldest, meanest things I think I’ve ever done.

She went and got Leah, and a funny thing happened; I didn’t feel a thing.  I was expecting to be knocked over with a wave of guilt but, instead, I felt nothing.  It was exhilarating in the darkest of ways.  This must be what the Joker felt the first time he upset the established order.  As I passed Tori on my way to get my hair washed, I almost wanted to whisper in her ear “I’m an agent of chaos.”

Does this mean that Joker Jimmy is a newly discovered side of my personality worth exploring further? That the weird-astrology people were right when they take about Gemini’s having split personalities?  Quite possibly.  Tori’s heartbreak at not getting to cut a relative stranger’s hair (me) was a sacrifice necessary for me to find my inner darkness.  A darkness that could lead to me never settling on one hair-cutter person for fear of an awkward interaction.  A darkness that could lead me to finding the perfect hair-cutter person; one who would be able to give me the volume and shape necessary to hide my thinning crown.  A darkness that could put an end to me having to use a blow-dryer.  As Tori watched Leah cut my hair from afar, she must have felt the thing about chaos…fear.  And maybe that fear that she’s not good enough, will drive her to become a better hair-cutter person.  You’re welcome, Tori.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Me in the salon on Sunday…

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Anyone watch Ariana on “Vanderpump Rules” last night?  She got mad at Tom for leaving to hang out with Jax after the break-up because she wants Tom to “commit” to her being first in her life.  HOWEVER, she still refuses to even consider marrying Tom.  Get out Ariana, nobody likes you.

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

Well, Russ Westbrook proved that I’m stupid.  That’s fun.  Thankfully, I did also bet on Houston last night, so it wasn’t a total wash.  For tonight, I like Miami (+10), the Milwaukee moneyline and San Antonio (+11.5).  10 and 11.5 are a lot of points for teams that play hard and have proud vets, and Milwaukee seems to have figured out how to beat Boston.  BANK OPEN?!?! YOU BETCHA!

(My account currently at $180.40)

K bye.

In Defense of Me and 90s Kid Stuff

MY WORLD: 

Aside from treating my body like a dumpster, talking to Belle about how she’s the “numba one pretty gurrrlll” and sleeping in my clothes, there’s one final pastime I take part in whenever The VP of Ops leaves town; getting paranoid about what she’s saying about me to other people.  You see, there’s this thing that some people take part in, where when they’re away from their significant other they complain about his/her faults and idiosyncrasies to their friends.  Mind you, this is something that I have only HEARD ABOUT, for my friends and I keep our conversations strictly about sports, chicken wings and who our current man-crush is because IT’S A SAFE SPACE AND WE’RE PROGRESSIVE!  (Chris Hemsworth and Eddie Vedder forever btw).

However, I am aware that The VP of Ops has sheep-like tendencies when surrounded by her poor influences of friends.  While they’re complaining about the ragamuffins they’re with, in an effort to fit in and not be the “yo mans ain’t got it like my mans got it”-girl, she probably folds and joins the complain party.  Knowing this, I would like to put forth some explanations and defenses for what she MAY be saying about me to her friends.

“He’s really moody”—First off, who isn’t?  Right? I mean, I’m sure there are co-workers of yours that you think are super even keel, but they have to be kinda’ bitchy sometimes at home later…right? RIGHT?!?!?  Uh, and you think The VP of Ops ISN’T moody?  THINK AGAIN BUB!  Last time I checked, yelling “I’m going to murder you” at your husband, just because he’s playing the “I’m not touching you”-game, is called a MOOD.  Your honor, I would like to employ the “well, she is too”-defense.

Real talk, this cuts deep because I am POSITIVE that it’s true.  For some reason, being “moody” has worse connotations than being a serial killer in my brain.  (He’s moody?!?! Ugh, I don’t have time to deal with that!  Yeah, my husband killed 4 people, but they were like SOOOOO annoying).  Sometimes, I’ll catch myself mid-“if you don’t stop humming to yourself I’m going to blow my brains out” and immediately toss an apology the VPs way.  The apology, though, normally sounds something like “I’m mad right now and I don’t know why and it’s not your fault so I’m…(through grit teeth)…so I’m sorry or whatever.”  And if she brings up how I was moody the next day or another time when I’m in a GOOD mood? It’ll immediately piss me off and I’ll kinda’ deny it and will try my best to act not-mad…but, I’m fuckin’ mad about it.  CAN’T THIS JUST BE OUR LITTLE SECRET?  Oh, and to the girlfriend who I’m sure will mention something about me being a Gemini, just shove it.  Astrology is for the birds, everyone knows this.

“He ALWAYS watches sports”—Well maybe if you had money riding on whether Mariska Whateverthefuckitay was going to catch the rapist in this episode of “Law & Order SVU”, I would support us watching that together.  Gah fuhbid you join the team and root against Anthony Davis making the Blazers look like ABSOLUTE dog meat when I have the Blazers in my 8-team parlay.  And also, if I watch sports all the time, how am I able to write such eloquent, insightful critiques of “Vanderpump Rules” and “Summer House”?  Answer the question, please.  I’ll wait…

This is the time when The VP of Ops will, most likely, bring up the fact that I have yet too hook up the second cable box in our bedroom.  Did we move in last August? Yes, but there are a lot of wires and, like, I JUST DON’T WANNA!  PLUS! PLUS!  All she wants to watch is “Law & Order SVU” and that’s on netflix, so she can just watch it on our Apple TV in the bedroom.  I would like to point out that I have mostly given up watching weekend pre-game shows (which are like catnip for guys ESPECIALLY during football season) so that we can watch that stupid fake pioneer woman cook some unhealthy bullshit for her “Cowboy Kids” on Food Network.  (We did just find out that Pioneer Woman married into like one of the richest families in the country.  When your family is worth in excess of $500 million-not kidding-it kinda’ puts a damper on the whole “just cookin’ for some farm boys” motif they’re going for. Just my 2 cents!) Are you going to bring that up to the girl crew? Do their guys ask what time Vanderpump Rules is on every Monday? Do their guys pause “Relation-shep” in the middle of the show just to talk to you about charismatic and likable Shep is?  Didn’t think so.

“He’s bossy”—This one is similar to the “he’s moody” one in that it hurts, but the difference here is that I’m not bossy.  I’m really not.  This is not me trying to be funny by denying the truth…I’m just not bossy.  Ask my boss at work if I’m bossy; bet he says I’m not.

Really though, I think I’m good at admitting faults (see, “He’s really moody” section) but this “bossy” label is one hundred percent due to the fact that The VP of Ops is an all-time horrible decision maker.  When I say that, I’m not meaning it in the sense of making bad decisions like “she decides to get a neck tattoo when she’s drunk.”  More like, she just WON’T make a decision.  Every single Saturday that we both have free, I’ll ask her what she wants for lunch.  “Where should we go? We can go wherever you want!”-I ask like the Magic Lunch Fairy.  What this leads to is her telling me that she’s going to find a spot by looking through the Yelp! app on her phone.  Then, about 13 minutes later, I’ll walk past her and see that she’s just scrolling through Instagram.  “Oh yeah, I forgot”-and she’ll get back to the Yelp! app before asking me “well, what do you want?” no less than 39 times.  So me putting an end to this misery and picking a restaurant that she told me she LOVED is, then, an example of me being bossy?  In the words of an Italian television caricature “Getda’ Fug Outta Hee!”

OUR WORLD: 

So Spotify has this thing now, I don’t know if it’s new or not, where they create a playlist for you called “Time Capsule”.  Through the magic of the internet (and the government…) they somehow know what songs I liked when in my formative years.  This morning I have heard some real treats like Matchbox Twenty (Rob Thomas can sing, so back off), “Sabotage” (the only Beastie Boys song I like), and “Rollin'” by Limp Bizkit (NOT the only Limp Bizkit song I like…WHAT?!?! IT’S GREAT WORKOUT MUSIC!)  

This “Time Capsule” got me to thinking about the 90s and so I wanted to put together the beginning of a “Whatever Happened To __________?” list for my fellow kids of the 90s.  Maybe I’ll continue this in future blogs…maybe not…I do what I want.

–Eve 6:  Was “Inside Out” just too perfect of a song?  I’m guessing they made that and were like “well, we can’t top that…so let’s just leave.”

–Drew Barrymore:  She was in every single movie for a stretch there and now, where she at?  Drew? Where you at, Drew?  She is also maybe the best example of a celeb I can’t decide if I’m attracted to or not.

–The guy with tiny sunglasses in “The Professional”:  I’ve actually never seen this movie, but feel like I have because I’ve seen the preview like a hundred times and CONSTANTLY think about watching it on nights I’m having trouble finding something.  He seemed like a pretty solid character actor, though.  Maybe? I don’t know.

–Jesse Camp:  This is the guy who won MTVs first “Wanna Be a VJ” contest.  Man, this dude was off-putting.  Also, pretty provocative name for a TV show, in hindsight.  I don’t want to look up what this dude is up to now because I fully expect it to be very depressing.

–Ben Savage from “Boy Meets World”:  Again, not going to look up what he’s actually up to, but for very different reasons than Jesse Camp.  I don’t want to look Ben Savage up because I’m rooting for him to be miserable now.  When I was a grad film student at UCLA (are you impressed by debt? Well get a load of this!) I ran into Ben Savage hanging out in the office of my student housing building.  He was like hanging out with people that worked there or something? Anyway, I recognized him and because it was a Friday night and I was probably 5 beers deep at this point, struck up a conversation with him.  Unfortunately, he quickly turned this light conversation into a passionate monologue about how stupid and delusional he thinks people trying to break into the film/television biz are.  He did not know that I was (am?) one of those people.  He was so condescending and pompous, that I wish I would’ve told him that the GLARING FLAW with “Boy Meets World” was that Topanga was WAY too hot for him.  Everyone agrees on this and if you see this cheesedick on the street, feel free to remind him of it.  I’d appreciate it.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I bet you’re like me and still know all the lyrics to this.

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Punchable face times a billion.

Savage

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

Well, my NBA playoff parlay is basically dead now that the Blazers are down 0-3 to the Pelicans.  Isn’t it great when you look back on a bet and it’s SUPER OBVIOUS that betting against Anthony Davis was a bad idea?  I just love it.  I placed a few bets last night and ended up going 2 for 4, so that’s not horrible at least.  I’m guessing that Philly is becoming the favorite to come out of the East now, and so I think I may want to put some money on Cleveland.  I can’t stand LeBron, but I just can’t see him going down to Ben Simmons and Embiid…not yet.

(My account currently at $207.73)

K bye.

Do I Still Like Doing These Things? (4/13/18)

MY WORLD:

It’s a mothafuckin’ Friday y’all!!! TIME TO GET WILD!  Seriously, we made it through the week and if you’re not blowing it out in your own way tonight, then get to steppin’, cuz this is a blow-out only crew here at this blog (I really have no idea what I just wrote but it had some rhythm so I just went with it.)  As Friday rolls in like the gramma who used to give you too much candy, I started thinking about what I was going to do tonight and I came to the realization that there are “fun things” that I try to convince myself that I still like to do…when I’ve actually…maybe…grown out of them.  (JIMMY NO!  DON’T ADMIT IT!!! THEY’RE WATCHING!!!!)

I don’t want to be the “I’m so old”-guy because, if you’re under the age of 40, and pulling that shit, you’re obnoxious and have ZERO self-awareness.  Ever in a room with actual middle-aged people, and some trying-too-hard-to-sound-mature 27 year old talks about how “old” they feel now because they cooked dinner one time last week?  Can these people be sent to the smelliest trash dump to live forever?  (Had to get that out because the following may have echoes of this sentiment…)   Since I don’t think these are as universal as some of my other lists, I would like to present the first installment of a new Friday staple…”Things I Try To Convince Myself That I Still Like.”  Does age have something to do with this list?  I’M NOT OLD OKAY!  I’M NOT THAT GUY!  Today’s subject…

Concerts:  Earlier this week, I told The VP of Ops that we were “due to go to a concert.”  It was a cool-husband thing to say on a Tuesday night that I didn’t really think would go any further than that.  Like, I heard a live version of a song we liked on the radio and my mouth just farted that out.  When we got home, I checked out upcoming Chicagoland concerts on the internet because I was bored and had already gone through Instagram like 94 times that day.

There were bands that we both like playing for cheap ticket prices and…I couldn’t pull the trigger.  Why?  Because they were on a weeknight or months away and all I could think about was how tired I would be during the week or how much I was going to have to spend on beer.  (YOU DO NOT SOUND LIKE A FUN PERSON, JIMMY!)  Am I the only one who thinks “yeah, but what if we buy tickets for this Friday night show that’s not for 3 months, and then our favorite couple decides to throw a house party that night and we can’t go cuz we’re too busy spending $14 on Corona Lights”?!?!  Then!  Our favorite couple is gonna be all “you know, we got to know Lonny and Bonny that Friday night you guys weren’t there, and we have reached the conclusion that their value system is more closely aligned to ours, so you and The VP have been replaced as the first couple to invite to double dates.”  Next thing we know, we’re on a friendship app trying to find a good looking couple to double date with, hoping that if we take enough “look how much fun we’re having!”-pics our old fave-couple will get jealous and call us back.  JUST CALL US BACK!

And if there’s a show on a weeknight? FUGGETABOWDIT!  The VP came home a few months back, on a Monday, saying that she got us free tickets to LCD Soundsystem.  I was supposed to be excited, I know.  A cool hipstery band, that I could brag about seeing live to my cooler friends.  But…it was Monday and lil’ JimJim was sleepy ti ti and just wanted to watch “Vanderpump Rules” and not rub arms with a sweaty stranger who LOVES dancing in crowded areas.  (God I sound like a curmudgeon).  We ended up going because we were both like “well, we can’t NOT go,” but neither of us were excited to be there.  We sipped on INSANELY expensive beers, stood in the back and kinda swayed along to a few songs while silently praying that the other one would turn around and say “can we go?”  That game of chicken lasted for about 8 songs.  I broke, and The VP was so happy to nod her head and sprint out of the crowded sauna of a concert venue with me.

Now, obviously, there are still those bands for everyone that can overcome these lame-ass tendencies.  Those bands for me include (off the top of me old head–said in a Irishy accent): Dave Matthews Band, Queens of the Stone Age, Death Cab for Cutie, Pearl Jam, Radiohead and….maybe Garth Brooks cuz that does sound like a real hoot.  You’ll notice that there are no hip-hop crews (crews? acts? artists?) and that’s because the last weeknight concert I got TWISTED at was a Kanye West concert (That’s right, Kanye West.  Ever heard of him?  Someone texted me “ever heard of it?” yesterday and I remembered how AWESOME of a burn that is so I’ve been using it non-stop since.)  Looking back, I believe this experience not only turned me off to hip hop shows, but it scarred me so bad about weeknight concerts that I’ve never been able to enjoy one since…

The VP and I were late in year 1 of our relash (cool shorthand for relationship) and I had bought us Kanye tix months prior.  We both worked 9-5 office jobs, but were cool enough to not even hesitate about a Tuesday night rap concert (any other white people feel very self-conscious when saying the term “rap concert”?  Just me?)  We met for a beer after work like they do in the movies and talked about whether we were wearing cool enough clothes for Kanye.  I was.  She wasn’t.  Classic us.

We got to our seats at the big arena just in time for the opening act, a cool girl singer person who I can’t remember now…wait…I’m thinking…nope, not getting it.  Anyway, she was cool and has become a pretty big star since so, no bigs, we saw her before she blew up.  The VP and I had perfected our beer trips to where we were like a relay race team that didn’t have to look at each other when handing off the baton.  By the time Kanye took the stage, we were SAUCED and HAVING A TIME!

There were some bro-y in-a-perfect-amount guys next to us and they were our new friends.  Mouthing words to each other; me not getting insecure that they might be hitting on The VP; having minor dance-offs in the row; you know, those type of concert friends.  The sound quality wasn’t great, but it didn’t matter cuz that bass was THUMPIN’ and no one had pointed out that I didn’t know what to do with my hands.  (I was basically waiting for all the lights to go down, except one spotlight on my hands and have the PA Announcer start yelling at me to “figure out if they’re staying in your pockets or not!”)  

Later in the second half of the Kanye’s RAP CONCERT, our bro-y friends offered us a pill–like a aderrall thing.  The VP actually takes 2 of those bad boys everyday cuz she’s NUTS without them, but I had never partaken.  I politely declined because I was scared, but 7 minutes later The VP took one for herself–cuz of health reasons! and she offered me one again…(HYPOTHETICALLY!)…I took it this time because I was still in the “watch how cool I can be”-phase with The VP.  Guys, it wakes you up like big-time!  And guess what that means when you’re 27?  YOU CAN KEEP DRINKING!  Which I did…until like 6 in the morning.

The party continued from the concert to a nearby bar to VPs shitty apartment to “oh my god, the sun is coming up.”  We fell asleep for about an hour before I woke up in a half-drunken panic (was probably more like three quarters-drunken panic).  I didn’t have time to get back to my apartment and get to work on time, and I was still new enough at the job that I didn’t feel comfortable calling in sick.  No time for a shower either, guys.  It was near Christmas-time and, thankfully, The VPs mom had given my present to The VP a few weeks earlier.  “It’s a shirt, open it.”  Christmas time came early for this drunken mess, so I tore open the “present” and THANK GOD it was a business-ish button down.  Threw it on and I was off.  Suicide was a legitimate option on the crowded train ride downtown.

My plan was to slink into the office like a real slink, and hide at my desk with headphones in for 8 hours of HELL.  I’d probably throw a cough or two in there to plant the “I bet he’s sick, so I should stay away”-seed in my co-workers brains.  Unfortch, about 42 seconds after slinking into my chair like a real slink, my pod-mate came out of the clouds with a COMPLETELY UNEXPECTED QUESTION. “So how was the Kanye show?”  Not remembering to stick to the plan, I spun around in my chair and, before I could answer, she panic-blurted “Oh my god are you okay?!?!?”  Evidently, I did not look well.

The rest of that day was just as you’re imagining.  Shakes, sweats, bosses who just don’t understand and a king-size lunch that couldn’t come close to making me feel better.  The VP told me that she…well, actually The VP still works at this place and so…uh…she didn’t do any of the things I did the night before.  She was all “Jimmy, maybe take it easy?  We have work tomorrow and I value my job because my bosses care about me and I care about them!”  Wow, what a dedicated worker!  VP!

Long story short, that is what a weeknight concert means to me now; having a legitimately concerned co-worker ask if I’m okay the next morning.  Either that, or I’m sleepy and lucky enough to stand next to the sweaty guy with hairy shoulders who decided a tank-top was a MUST-WEAR for this winter concert.

So, like, yeah I don’t really like concerts much now…but I’ll totally still go if you have an extra ticket.

OUR WORLD:

It’s Friday and it’s warm out in Chicago.  Drink a margarita, wear your sunglasses and DO NOT talk about next week’s forecast.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This is my fave Kanye song I think…

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This was me the morning after the Kanye show.

when-youre-at-work-hungover-af-trying-to-act-like-20092616.png

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

I’m not going to lie, I haven’t been gambling and I haven’t felt the urge because I’ve been BUSY LIVING LIFE GUYS!  Jk, I’ve been busy doing shit I don’t really want to do and haven’t had time to do what I LOVE…which is gamble.  I’ll get back into it this weekend.  Also, The VP is out of town at the end of next week which means…a storm is comin’.

(My account currently at $256.83)

K bye.

Best Drink of the Week and Travel Talk (4/12/18)

OUR WORLD:

My friends and I had a discussion a couple weeks back where we tried to rank the best drinks of the week.  Keep in mind, this is not a ranking of the best drinks of your life, like after some crowing achievement or overcoming some adversity, simply the best drinks of a normal boring-ass week.  While my friends, nicknamed “Thunder” and “Cash Out”, had differing opinions (that I don’t remember because we were on martini numero tres at this point in the night), I believe that the following list is THE definitive drink of the week ranking….er, list….YOU GET IT!

I’m gonna count down from 5 to 1 because I’m a storyteller who likes to build suspense…

5)  Tuesday night, at about 6:41 P.M., the Double IPA you drink as you prepare dinner.  Your Monday nightmare is but a distant memory now, and having made it through Tuesday as well means that you’re back in your weekly routine.  Tuesday was a long day, but you’re in full-on “weekday work-mode” now, so it’s okay.  You got off work, went to the gym and took an extra long run because the Monday workout was more about ridding weekend toxins, than actually improving your health.  Tuesday at the gym is about proving to yourself that you’re not the fat piece of shit that your thighs say you are (sitting in a car while wearing jeans that just came out of the drier puts me under the deepest of deep depressions when I look down at my thighs and pray that they don’t burst through my pants.  I swear I could hear my thighs screaming for help.)  So you ran far enough to sweat through your dirty hat, and you got home in time to make a meal that takes just long enough to enjoy every little sip of the Double IPA that you so rightly earned on the treadmill.  It’ll be your only beer of the night because it’s high ABV, but you’ll savor every. single. sip.

4)  Sunday morning, at about 10:24 A.M., the Bloody Mary you drink at your favorite comfort-food brunch spot.  Sunday mornings can be rough, and this is no exception.  You stayed out too late the night before and snuck a cigarette with your friend who smokes when your spouse was busy making fun of you behind your back (or, in my case, you vaped like an absolute fiend because you’ve convinced yourself that vaping is kinda healthy…)  Your mouth tastes like desert garbage and all you really want to do is curl up in sweatpants and wait for the Sunday night depression to hit.  BUT! You told your kinda-friends two weeks ago that you’d meet for brunch, so you have to shower and wear a shirt that doesn’t have late-night salsa stains on it.  Your spouse asks if there’s any Advil left.  There is, but there’s only 2 and you’re holding the bottle so you lie and say “no”…then close your bathroom door and pour the last 2 into your hand slow enough that it doesn’t make that bottle-rattle sound and blow your cover.  The walk or uber to brunch is all about convincing yourself that you’re “not actually that hungover,” but you are.  The Bloody Mary at this place has some fun cheese and meat things that come in it, but you’re kinda scared to order it because alcohol is the devil.  You order it, though, because you’re not a NARC and it IS the weekend.  You’ll really really enjoy the first half of it as it washes over your hangover and brings you back to the “kinda loopy and feeling not hungover”-phase of being drunk.  It’s the last truly enjoyable buzz of the weekend because nighttime is far enough away that you can pretend it’s not coming.

3)  Saturday late-afternoon, at about 4:17 P.M., the I.P.A. you have to set the base for the rest of your AGGRESSIVE night.  (I’m realizing that there are people reading this who have kids and, I just want to say that I’m sorry that I’m still in the aggressive Saturday night drinking phase of my life.  Am I ashamed of it? Slightly.  But, by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, I’m so excited about going out that I tuck the shame away in my “I’ll deal with this on Monday”-dresser drawer.)  Plan is to meet up with friends at a shitty-in-a-good-way bar a little after 5. You’re ready and your spouse is in the shower, so it’s time to put on some sporting event you don’t really care about and to properly enjoy a good beer before you dive into the “get me whatever you’re getting” bar orders for the rest of the night.  Now is the time to use your favorite, most beer-snobby, fancy beer glass.  Be sure to pour it slow and make sex noises after your first sip; this is the last time that you’ll be truly enjoying the taste of what you’re drinking for the rest of the night.  This beer will also be a quick topic of conversation early on in the night, when you try to prove to your friends that you have taste by talking about a beer they’ve never heard of.

2)  Friday lunch, at about 12:21 P.M., the margarita you get with your co-workers at the Mexican restaurant by your office.  The morning meetings are over, and you still have to send a few e-mails out, but you’ve effectively made it to the weekend.  It’s time for chips and salsa and marg(s) (stick to one marg, guys…once you go for the second in front of co-workers, you’re known as THAT lunch-drunk-guy).  Bitching about the job is ALWAYS the topic, and this is the most acceptable time and place for it.  Get all the bitching out now because your spouse has heard ENOUGH throughout the week, and if you bring more of that shit into the weekend SHE’S GONNA LOSE IT!  (Can we make a cool looking medallion that says “No Work Talk” that we all wear around our necks from Friday night through Sunday night?  Feels like a piece of jewelry a hipster would wear and not admit that they got it at Urban Outfitters…”Urban Outfitters? No, I only shop at thrift stores.”)  Get ready for a lot of deep exhales and “we made it to Friday”-headshakes.  They’re gonna feel good and earned and your co-workers are gonna nod at you overtime you do one because they know…they know…

1)  Thursday night, when you’re alone at about 7:02 P.M., the martini that you carefully measure out and make like you’re a bartender whose rent depends on the tip you’ll get from this one drink.  This is a special time that was great when you were single and now only happens when your spouse is out of town or out for the night at a work event.  Does it mean you don’t love your significant other? I mean, maybe…like, why are you with them?  (To the 4 people reading this who are in bad relationships, now is when you look at yourself in the mirror and think about sad stuff…we’ll wait…)  You’re not in a relationship crisis, but getting to celebrate heading into Friday by crafting a nice cocktail by yourself is simply exhilarating.  There is no need for you to put music on or anything while you do this; the sound of almost-Friday silence is melodic and able to perfectly harmonize with the sounds your shaker makes while chilling your gin martini or old fashioned or some other drink they serve at the restaurant you only go to on your birthday.  If you have a dog, they’ll come over and you’ll say something to them like “we did it.”  Do you normally take pictures of your meal when you go out to eat?  Of course not, those people don’t read this blog.  But, maybe you take a picture of this drink you just made.  You don’t need to send it out, but there should be a record of it somewhere.  Next time you do this, toss a 5 dollar bill on your kitchen counter because you deserve a tip.

*In case insurance people or doctors or my in-laws read this, I would like to state that this is a hypothetical week and does not mean that I imbibe in all of these drinks every week…not, every week…IT’S HYPOTHETICAL!  THAT MEANS, LIKE, NOT TOTALLY REAL-LIFE!

MY WORLD:

*Every once in a while, I’m going to need to throw a George Costanza-style rant your way.  Today is one of those days.  Please indulge the following:

The VP and I had the new “Jersey Shore” show on in the background while she cooked dinner and I looked at my phone like a slob last night.  We weren’t really watching, except to comment about JWoww’s newly-mangled face (wrinkles are better than plastic surgery-face) and The Situation being sober and…why is he on the show, then? Anyway, during the show or maybe in a commercial or something (I was busy being an instagram slob, guys!) I heard someone say, “you know, you should really travel more.”  What an obnoxious thing to say.

When I heard it, I walked into the kitchen to rant at The VP about how mad it made me.  Is there anyone ALIVE who thinks to themselves “I’m glad I don’t travel”?  You know what? “I’ve got the next twelve years off and a ton of zeroes in my bank account, but this couch is pretty comfy and I love not knowing anything about life outside this country!”  The reason people don’t travel more is because…hmmm….let’s put on our detective hats…oh wait, it’s BECAUSE TRAVELING IS EXPENSIVE!  Would you ever tell someone “you know, you should really make more money”?  NO, because you’re not trying to set the world record for being-an-asshole.  Aside from the ludicrous content of this message, it’s always made worse because the person saying it is thinking they’re some Advice God selflessly gifting wisdom on the uncultured alley rats of society.  Get da fuck outta’ here with that shit!

I wish I could say that made me feel better, but I’m still mad that people think saying “you should travel more” is not only acceptable, but needed advice.  GOD THAT MAKES ME SO MAD!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Uh oh, is Jimmy suggesting a song that hipsters might like?  Giddy up!  This is a perfect song to listen to when you’re getting stressed out and wondering if it’s time to cry alone in your car.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

BuzzFeed can go straight to hell.

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:

Good thing I didn’t listen to my advice and bet on Milwaukee over Philly last night.  Philly won by seven billion points, if you missed it.  It’s time for me to huddle with my crew and figure out NBA playoff futures.  At first glance, I don’t hate Cleveland getting +650 to win the title.  However, that means I’d have to root for LeBron and that sounds awful to me…The East stinks, though, and once they’re in the ‘ship you never know what kind of injuries Houston or Golden State could be dealing with.  Who’s gonna talk me out of this?

(My account currently at $256.83)

K bye.

Vanderpump Rules…It Really Does

OUR WORLD: 

I want you to know that I’m writing this section knowing full-well that my Dad will read it and shake his head through the first 3 sentences before leaving his computer in disgust.  Revealing your love of Bravo reality television to a father who has arthritis in his hand from all the fights he has been in, isn’t exactly a “welcomed confession.”  Nevertheless, I am a brave boy (I am Dad! DAD! I AM!)  and I will carry on with my stated mission of GIVING JAX TAYLOR THE CREDIT HE DESERVES!!!!

I don’t remember what season I got into “Vanderpump Rules”, but it was one of the first “I’m gonna be honest here”-moments I had with The VP of Ops.  You know when you’re still in the early stages of dating and you’re scared to tell your girlfriend ANYTHING that may cause her to be like “oh wait, this isn’t gonna happen anymore”?  The VP and I were nearing the end of that phase when I “let” her watch an ep of “Vanderpump Rules” at my apartment.  I pretended like I didn’t care and wasn’t paying attention but then something happened…Jax Taylor walked on screen.  Early-Vanderpump Jax was who most stupid bartenders wanted to be in real life…and I was a stupid bartender at this point in my life.   He was dude-funny and likable on a show run by guys who just care too much about their hair (Sandoval) and girls who were about as likable as a porcupine pillow.  What episode was it?  I could lie, but I have no idea.  It probably included Stassi yelling “It’s my birthday!”, Sandoval crying and Jax threatening to “take it outside.”  About 7 minutes in to the episode, I looked over to the VP and dropped the “I’m gonna be honest here, I’m into this.”

This show works because there is no shortage of HATABLE characters, but there are enough likable and lovable ones to not feel too gross watching an episode.  I’m sorry, but whenever I’ve seen a “Real Housewives” show, I can’t get into it because they all seem A BILLION percent awful.  A BILLION.  Give me degrees!  Vanderpump has hatable, kinda’ hatable, kinda’ likable, likable and ONE lovable character for everyone.  Let’s go through the categories.

HATABLE:  Kristen and Scheana.  Case closed.  Both of these characters have ZERO redeeming qualities.  Kristen’s worst offense?  Thinking that she’s really funny because she took like ONE improv class.  Not much is worse than a not-funny person inviting you to their improv show, and Kristen didn’t just do that…SHE FOLLOWED UP HER IMPROV SHOW WITH A STAND-UP SET!!!  Cringeworthy on level 5 trillion.  Aside from making her friends fake-laugh at her lame observations, Kristen is always plotting something kinda’ mean.  You know she pitches “storylines” to the producers ALL THE TIME off camera.  The only reason she’s still on the show is because she’s good for one solid drink-toss a season.  The VP and I say “Oh, fuck off Kristen” at least 6 times an episode.

I would say “don’t even get me started on Scheana!” but I’M FINNA GET STARTED Y’ALL!!!   (I literally just pushed myself away from my laptop and took a deep breath.  If there was a camera in my apartment, now is when I’d look directly into it and say something like “watch this.”)  Again we have a case of an absolute no-talent FORCING “friends” to watch them perform.  Remember when Scheana was trying to be a singer?  She forced her then-boyfriend, Shay, to produce her album and every time you heard her sing or watched her dance she, somehow, became less attractive in your eyes.

That’s been the story of Scheana.  If you didn’t know her at all and saw a picture, you’d be like “yeah, she’s hot.”  But every episode you watch of her, she becomes less and less and less attractive.  By last night’s episode, I legit thought to myself “Scheana is hideous.”  Let’s run through her track record: she forced her producer boyfriend to record her AWFUL “album” that was so bad it drove him to a pill addiction.  Then!  When he admitted his addiction to her, she was like “yeah, but you can still come out and party with us, just don’t do shots!”  Hey idiot, he’s addicted to pills!  So she drives that relationship to divorce even though she kept telling everyone “we’re doing so great!”  (So she lied to us, which hurts.)  Then, she IMMEDIATELY goes into some pseudo-relationship with a condescending DOOF named “Rob” (nice name loser).  Rob openly admits to everyone that he doesn’t really like her, but whenever someone mentions this to Scheana  “they’re just making up rumors!”  If they don’t have a scene in this year’s reunion episode where they show Scheana, Rob talking about how he didn’t love her, spliced in between all the times she talked about how much in love they are, I’m GONNA LOSE IT!  If I have to hear one more time about how Rob hung a TV in 7 minutes, I’m gonna go to Los Angeles with a flat screen and time him myself CUZ THERE’S NO FUGGIN’ WAY HE DID THAT! (I’ve never hung a flat screen cuz I’m scared I’ll tear the wall down and break my TV and…is Rob better than me?  Hey Rob, you think you’re better than me?!?!)

KINDA HATABLE:  Ariana, Lala and Lisa (girls are gonna HATE that I included Lisa in this category).  Ariana is like Kristen-lite in that she also thinks she’s a legit comedian, even though she has never made anyone genuinely laugh in the history of her life.  She also seems to string Sandoval along in this “I never wanna get married cuz my parents got divorced”-bullshit.  Sometimes you mess up cooking dinner.  Does that mean you never try cooking again?  Sometimes marriages don’t work.  I’ll say this, if you’re over the age of 30 and still publicly lamenting your parents divorce, maybe keep it to yourself?  You’re an adult now, they tried their best…or not, whatever.  Get over it.

Lala infuriates me and The VP loves her which kinda infuriates me more.  How can you be Mrs. Female Empowerment when you’re a part-time hostess who leeches off a boyfriend you never name on the show who is, most likely, married?  Women who refer to their spouse ONLY as “My Man” need to be put under a microscope cuz something is off on a DEEP level.  Oh, and the bottle thing before she goes to sleep?  GET DA FUCK OUTTA HERE WITH THAT SHIT!  If The VP of Ops got into bed one night sucking on a bottle, I’d drive to my parents house and probably fall asleep in my mother’s arms after sobbing about how “I just didn’t know she was like that.”

And Lisa…I can feel all the women readers getting pissed right now…She’s condescending, ladies.  Maybe it’s because I grew up in the restaurant biz, but I kinda think she doesn’t have all that much to do with the success of her restaurants (YEAH, I SAID IT!)  She was a child actor turned music video girl turned “restaurant designer”.  That’s not a real job.  “Restaurant designer”?  PUH-LEASE!  Have you ever seen her ACTUALLY working in one of the restaurants?  No!  All she does is go in, walk around pointing out how some minimum-wage worker missed a spot polishing a knife, and ask Jax for a glass of wine then deride him for filling it up too much.  WHAT A BOSS!  So when she CONSTANTLY reminds everyone around her about her “business prowess” it comes off as insecure.  Also, these young adults that she can’t wait to lecture, are the same ones who have MADE the show.  So her disappointment or anger with them is probably bullshit, and her “zings” are rarely ACTUALLY funny.  The only reason she’s not in the hatable category is because she does a lot of good for dogs.

KINDA’ LIKABLE:  Tom Sandoval, Stassi and James Kennedy.  Sandoval cries too much and dresses like a WEIRDO, but he seems like a genuinely good dude (if you didn’t tear up when he took care of Schwartz’s brothers, then you’re a robot!) His hair straightener thing is kinda weird, but he’s just trying really hard and that’s not always awful.

Stassi is tough for me because she was pretty rough to watch in the early seasons.  She was Queen Mean Girl and had to go through a sort of personality-rehab after she got too big for her britches.  Thing is, she’s kinda’ funny sometimes…A few times an episode now, she’ll make The VP laugh REALLY hard and I’ll pretend not to laugh cuz I don’t wanna give The VP the satisfaction, but it was funny.  Also, the fact that Stassi is The VP of Ops’ favorite character, makes me want to needle her a little, so I can’t TOTALLY love her.  Anytime Stassi is on screen, I can feel The VP’s smile pinging off our walls…a thing I have never been able to produce myself (IF YOU LIKE HER SO MUCH, WHY DON’T YOU JUST FUCKING MARRY HER?!?!)

James Kennedy has been quite the reclamation project this season.  Getting rid of Kristen was huge, but his biggest accomplishment in my eyes?  Befriending Jax.  I simply was not allowed to like him when he was Jax’s sworn enemy (gotta support your brothers.)  Now that he’s gotten the Jax seal of approval, Kennedy is okay in my book.  He’s good for some belligerent outbursts, but he’s also pretty funny whenever he points out what a total WHACKJOB Kristen is.  Did they hook up on that Mexico episode? Yes, and I can’t wait for that to also come out at the Reunion show.  Also, the story about him being violently bullied when he was a kid  makes the whole “White Kanye”-thing feel endearing.  Like, “aw, he’s fake confident now!”  Also, James Kennedy is the star of the funniest scene in the show’s history…when he RIPPED from a Fireball handle to the point where everyone got legitimately scared and he responded to their genuine concern with a “Whaaaaaa?!?!”  (The Bravo website is being weird about me getting the link to that scene show up in my blog, so here’s the link)

http://www.bravotv.com/video/share/2930050

LIKABLE:  Tom Schwartz.  He may cheat on Katie, but it’s just cuz he’s drunk and not because he’s mean so….basically doesn’t count.  His love of Coors Light is awesome because L.A. is all about vodka sodas; and his fear of actually working a job is funny because he never denies that he’s bad at being an adult.  How can you not like a dude who has basically said “yeah, I’m not responsible and I should be because I’m over 30, but I’m not so let’s just have some fun”?  Also, he’s way better looking AND nicer than Tequila Katie so…like, he should be allowed to cheat every now and then, right?  If I was married to Grace from Peaky Blinders I would strike a deal saying it was okay if she cheated on me every 10 weeks.  Fair is fair, guys.

LOVABLE:  Jax Taylor.  He was the cocky cool guy early on, but he was funny enough to overcome what that means.  He was also pretty open with his flaws.  Yes, he cheats on EVERYONE, but tell me you’re not rooting for him in his next relationship and I will call your parents to tell them that you lie.  Cheating on Stassi wasn’t that bad cuz she was supes mean, and…she totally cheated on him at some point too.  Doing it with her friend, Kristen, wasn’t the coolest move ever, BUT Kristen is an evil plotting witch-person so it’s not really his fault.  (Would you be surprised if Kristen could cast spells? I would not.)  He’s the only guy who would actually fight on this show, and he likes sports and he drinks too much.  Aside from the incessant cheating, he sounds like most of my friends.

This season, he has become a cautionary tale with a storyline bordering on legitimately sad.  Nearing 40 without a stable career or relationship is nightmare-type stuff, and watching Jax face these realities this season has been ROUGH.  If you’re watching that and feeling anything aside from some sort of sympathy or empathy, you also probably still burn ants with a magnifying glass.  The cheating on Brittany thing really stunk for this Jax boy.  It was like watching Tiger Woods come back for the 4th time, thinking he’s past all his bullshit and then grabbing for his back again on the 18th hole at The Masters. It’s a “No! Not again!”-situation, but it’s amazing how you find yourself STILL rooting for him after all the shit he has pulled.  If that’s not charisma, I don’t know what is.

And that’s all the words I have for “Vanderpump Rules” today.  Please welcome Jax and Co. to the Jimmyschair Reality TV Show Hall of Fame.  (My fingers broke a sweat writing that.)  

MY WORLD:

I’m gonna be completely honest with ya’ guys, I wrote so much for that “Vanderpump” induction, that I’m TOAST.  Today is supposed to be the next edition of a “Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The VP of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable,” and that section deserves more energy than I currently have.  (SOMEBODY GET ME A FUCKING GATORADE!)  But guess what that means? You can look forward to that tomorrow.  Giddy up!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

JAX WILL NOT STAND FOR MEN WHO DISRESPECT WOMEN!  Little thing about me, I LOVE pre-barfight threats.  They’re just delicious!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This was when Lala and James were BOTH hatable…Lala is still there…and will stay there forever if I have anything to say about it!  HEY LALA, GUESS WHAT?!?! I’M NOT FEELIN’ YOU EVER! (BURNNNNNNNNN ALERT!!!!)

 

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:

Yesterday was victory lap day.  I plan to get back soon, but diving into gambling on baseball is SCARY!

(My account currently at $256.83)

K bye.

Inside My Dog’s Head and Miserable Live Sports Experiences (4/6/18)

MY WORLD:

Yesterday morning, after I did a little thang called WRITE THIS FUGGIN’ BLOG, I took Belle out for her morning dumperoo (she’s sah kewt).  Unfortunately, even though I did my best to avoid all possible human/dog/natural interaction for her, people ended up crossing our path and Belle went psychokiller nuts.  Nothing like feeling like a failure of a dog owner at 7 in the morning!

Basically, she after she pooped, I zoned out as I picked it up with my bag-hand (if you were a dog, wouldn’t watching your human clean up your shit be the highlight of your day?  Like, “yeah, pick up my shit. That’s what you get for giving me the same bland-ass kibble EVERY FUCKING DAY!”)  While zoned out on poop-bag island, a girl on her way to school and a woman walking her dog, walked behind us.  In the Pomerantz household, this is known as a “WAIT, NO!”-situation.  Belle lunged at the girl, who legit screamed and started running!  (If I saw her again I would apologize, but it was over-the-top and kinda’ hilarious.)  Then Belle saw the woman and a stranger doggo and IT. WAS. ON.  I had to grab Belle by the chest and squeeze her between my legs to keep her from doing Buffalo Bill things to that little stranger dog.  The woman walking the other doggo didn’t say anything, but she was judgey with her eyes, I could tell.

As I held my sweet lil baby psychokiller princess between my legs, though, she started to kinda’ pant/cry and it made me feel super sad.  It wasn’t a “ouch, your fantastically toned and powerful quads are hurting me, Jimmy”-cry, but more of a “god, life is stressful!”-pant.  She was out of breath and, like, just ground down by the stress of it all.  I get it!  Belle!  Dad gets it!  And it got me thinking about how her brain must work, and what she must think as we go outside of her safe space (the one-bedroom apartment that she doesn’t have to pay to live in) for a walk in the morning.  To help myself understand where Belle is coming from, I would like to ask you to indulge me in a little exercise where I will write as if I am Belle about to go out on a morning walk.  Did that sentence make sense? Below this line, Belle is narrating her morning routine (Belle writes in red):

How long do I have to pretend I’m sleeping in this dumpy “bed”?  DAD?!?  Fuck, thought he moved.  Nope, just another mattress-shaking fart from Mom; why Dad is with this sloppy bitch is beyond me.  They act like they’re doing me a favor by locking me with them in their bedroom for the night, but now I’m even more stressed because who’s patrolling the kitchen?  I bet that asshole dog from downstairs is having a garbage party right now!  DAD!?!?!

DAD!  Dad you’re up!  Hey! Hi! Howdy! Hola! Woo! Dad! Dad! Dad! Oh yeah, gimme dat booty scratch!  Oooooooo that’s the spot!  Dad! Dad! Dad!  What’s the plan today?  Breakfast time?!?!  Wait!  Let me check the kitchen real quick to make sure you’re safe (I sprint to kitchen right when the bedroom door is opened every morning because I care about my Dad and his safety!)  COAST IS CLEAR DAD! Oh, you wanna hang in the bathroom?  Oh…closing the door in my face.  Got it.  Makes sense, you need your privacy.  Hey, don’t worry about anyone coming in–I’m gonna lay right here to make sure that doesn’t happen.  You hear that Mom?!?! Don’t even think about barging in on Dad during his private time!  (Mom normally won’t get out of bed for another few hours and that is A-OKAY with me!  Maybe she should think about just moving out?  I don’t know, just a thought.) 

DAD! YOU’RE BACK! How was private time? Bet it was good!  You deserve it big guy!  Alright, let’s talk turkey–when we going on that walk?  It’s not that I have to go that bad, but stuff is happening out there and if I don’t get to bark at it, I’m gonna have a nervous friggin’ breakdown.  Dad!  RARK! RARK! (yeah, that’s how my “barks” sound; more like “rark!”.  I’ve found it’s a more menacing sound than your typical “B-ark” sound.)  Did you hear that?  Dad! A door opened in our building! RARK RARK RARK! There’s another one!  No, I’m not gonna “shush”!  Dad, if I “shush” then no one will be afraid to barge in here and steal you away from me.  I’d basically be inviting the Dadnappers in here!

Hug time?  Yes!  (Guys, every morning, Dad sits on the couch next to me and gives me hugs.  He doesn’t love when I kiss his pretty face, but I do it anyway.)  Yawn? Me too!  Dad, watch me yawn!  Look! YAWWWWWWN!  We have so much in common!  You ever think about that Dad?  Like…what if you were more than my Dad?  Like…what if Mom wasn’t even here?  Never mind, I’m silly.  Sometimes I say crazy things!

Up again?!  Oh, I know that look!  IT’S WALKIN’ TIME!!! Okay okay okay, watch this! Dad! Watch this!  Spin, spin, spin, spin.  Four spins Dad!  Not even dizzy!  (Yeah, I do use a lot of exclamation points.  EXCUSE ME for being excited! NOT! Classic Belle Burn right there)  Oh, you’re gonna put that big scary metal collar on me?  Okay.  Not my fave, but you’re the boss, Dad.  Hey, look!  You like my smile?  Yeah you do!  Putting your coat on? Smart.  Classic Dad, being smart!

Now Dad, you gotta let me go first down the stairs okay?  We don’t know what’s ahead…(am I kinda’ choking my way down the stairs? Yes, but I sacrifice for my Dad.)  Did you hear that?  DAD!  HURRY!  COME ON!  WE GOTTA RUN DOWN THE STAIRS AND GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!  I HEARD A SOUND THING THAT I DON’T KNOW!  COME ON!  HURRRRRYYYYYYY!!!!!!! 

That was a close one, right?  Phew.  Hey, it feels great outside!  I’m gonna pee now (Dad is always super respectful here, he turns away while I make a tee tee.  Dad, the consummate gentleman!)  Was that a squirrel?  What’s that smell?  Who was here?  Dad, you smell that?!?! Dad! Dogs were here!  Let me investigate…no, I don’t want to keep walking…but, Dad if I don’t smell every one of those blades of grass then….DAD!  Ugh, fine.  I’m walking. I’m walking.

Pretty quiet out here this morning, just the way I like it.  Hold up, I’m gonna do a little pee here so they know this is OUR turf.  Dad!  Wait!  I swear, you don’t understand so many things about turf wars.  If it weren’t for me, you’d probably be in a gutter somewhere.  Just kidding Dad.  Obviously, no one could push around my big strong Dad.  

Hey! This is where we cross the street, right? Yep, knew it!  Dad!  I knew it!  Yeah, I’m gonna poop.  Dad, I really don’t need you telling me to “go poop” every morning.  I get it, you want me to poop.  It’s coming, okay?  You know what happens when you force a poop, Dad?  Bad stuff! Real bad stuff!  Speak of the devil, here it comes!

Come on Dad, I gotta be as close to the parked cars as possible.  Come on!  Okay, here I go.  (per usual, Gentleman Dad not looking at me.)  All done!  Hey Dad, I pooped!  Just let me kick up this grass so everyone knows what I did and we’ll be all set.  Oh, you’re picking it up?  Yeah, that’s nice I guess.  Maybe we leave it though?  It’s just, I feel bad that you have to-WAIT!  DAD!  DON’T WORRY I GOT THIS!!!! 

RARK RARK RARK RARK GRRRRRRR SHRARK!!!! STAY AWAY FROM MY DAD YOU BACKPACK BITCH!!!!  THIS IS OUR FUCKING TURF!  OHHHHHH, WHAT?!!?! ANOTHER DOG?!!?  SEE WHAT HAPPENS IF HE LETS ME OFF THIS LEASH!!! OH I FUCKING DARE YOU!!!! MAKE A MOVE!

DAD!  LET ME GET THEM!  DAD, YOU DON’T KNOW THE STREETS LIKE I KNOW THE STREETS!  RARK RARK RARK RARK!  (He always holds me back, but if he could see me fight…I don’t know, maybe he’d look at me differently?  Like, as more than a dog?  I don’t know.  Oh, silly me!)  

Then I walk Belle back through our alley because there is less of a chance of running into  any living things.  She’s panting the entire way back, like she just finished a marathon.  I feel bad and kinda mad and kinda sad that her brain seems to be an absolute stress-bomb of matter.  By the time we get back up to our door, though, she seems to be smiling again, having forgotten the stressful nightmare that just occurred.  At least that’s what I tell myself…

Hey Dad, I bet Mom isn’t even out of bed yet!  You sure she’s “the one”?  Asking for a friend…

OUR WORLD:

Yesterday was the White Sox home opener, and if you voluntarily went to that game you should be start lining your walls with pillows cuz you, my friend, are NUTS.  Sitting out in the cold for April baseball is a billion percent miserable experience, and it got me thinking…what are some of the most miserable live sports experiences:

–Early-season (so the game is essentially meaningless), freezing baseball game.

–The Kentucky Derby.  I have no idea why this appeals to people.  Watching horses run for a minute while you’re dressed like an asshole sounds about as fun as going to a little kid’s birthday party.  HARD PASS.

–Any regular season college basketball game.  Seriously, if it’s not March and you’re not a current student, who cares?

–Any little kids baseball game ever.  Even when I was a kid I felt bad for my parents having to watch that dreck sitting on shitty bleachers.  Parents should be encouraged to stay home.

–Early season NBA game sitting in the 300 level.  You can’t see anything, so you end up watching the jumbotron the whole game.  All you’re thinking about is how the seat you’re in is less comfortable than your recliner at home, and the drinks you’re drinking are WEAK and super expensive.  What a great time!

–Late season NFL game when your team’s season is already over.  When the Bears are 3-9 and people sit outside in a blizzard to watch them play the 4-8 New York Jets, I’m all like “but why?”

That’s all I’ve got for now.  It’s still super cold outside, but at least it’s Friday.  GO FRIDAY!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I know I’m a little late with this posting, but Sean Penn is cool.  I don’t care if he’s messed up on Ambien.  He’s still cool.

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you shake your bottle of hair conditioner for like five minutes in the shower only to have the last .2 ounces spill out onto your shower wall.  NOW MY HAIR’S NOT GONNA BE CONDITIONED!!!

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:

Nobody I bet on for the Masters had an absolute blow up day yesterday, so I’m still feeling good.  Honestly, I am so due to win something big, so I’m pretty sure one of my guys is gonna win.  Like, almost positive.  PRAY FOR ME!

(My account currently at $0.00)

K bye.

Making The VP Mad and Reality Show Hall of Fame

MY WORLD:

Yesterday, I made a huge mistake that The VP of Ops was thrilled to call me out on, when I didn’t write about her.  It seems that I said the “Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The VP of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable”-section would be a Monday staple and now it’s Tuesday.  I BLEW IT!  Sorry fam (that’s a word cool people say even when they’re not talking to family only).  Let’s make this section a Tuesday staple now, because the jobs one is too juicy not to write about on Mondays.  Deal?  ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, VP?!?! DOES THIS MAKE YOU HAPPY?!?!?!

For today’s “Time I Made Myself Laugh By Making The VP of Ops Mad or Uncomfortable” I would like to bring us back to a little beer fest last summer.  The company I work for throws a pretty radical beer fest that I get to go to for free (no big deal).  Aside from getting schwasty wastey, this fest had fun stuff like ax throwing, freaking video games, guys, VIDEO GAMES!  And! there was a tattoo station!  For like $20, I could pick a simple, little design from a pre-determined set.  The designs were along the lines of little anchors, sailboats, sailor hats, things that had nothing to do with the sea but I can’t remember, ya’ know that kinda’ stuff.

The VP probably sensed that I was gonna go for a tattoo when I said to her “I’m going to get a tattoo later, FYI.”  (It’s like she can read my mind!)  Her initial response was dismissive because I was 4 strong beers deep and she probably figured that if she didn’t make a big deal out of it, that I’d forget about the tattoo.  Here’s the thing about me though, guys: whenever I feel even the slightest sense of VP unease, I do NOT forget.  I saw the “Jesus, please don’t”-look in her eyes when I first brought it up and oooo la la did that get my juices flowin.  We were with a couple of friends too, so I knew that I was going to get her mad in front of them…which is bonus points in my devious, devious game.

You’re probably thinking, “but Jimmy, tattoos hurt!  Weren’t you scared about the pain?” That’s the thing, I wasn’t even scared about the pain.  When given the opportunity to get The VP of Ops mad in PUBLIC and in front of friends, pain isn’t part of the equation.  I do what is necessary for the cause, and worry about repercussions later.  That’s just the kinda man I am.  I’m also a man who was, at this point now, probably 6 strong beers deep and I’ve gotten two tattoos before and didn’t even cry that much so, like, whatever.

A couple beers later, I started telling my friend Dave that I was going to get a tattoo.  The VP couldn’t hear what I was saying, but between the whispering and pointing at the tattoo stand that I was doing, she began to catch on.  Her eyes widened, and her teeth clenched as she began the process of going from “kinda joking” to “don’t you dare”-mode.  (Houston, this is Jimmy, requesting permission for takeoff.)  As The VP walked towards my friend and I, she tried to force a smile.  “You’re not getting a tattoo, okay?”  Uh, okay? Seems The VP of Ops forgot that NOBODY is the boss of me.

Thus, my response, “well, you’re not the boss of me.”  As our cute lil tiff vacillated between jokey and kinda-serious, our friends didn’t know whether to laugh or walk away and let us hash it out.  Obviously, the harder I pushed, the funnier it was going to become, so I started pushing.  What baby pants VP didn’t understand is that this tattoo wasn’t about the design, it was about creating a memory of a time I…was drunk at a beer fest with friends.  (These are the types of memories that don’t grow on trees nah’m sayin?)  If I told her the other reasons I wanted it were to prove to her that I’m the boss of me (I’m a strong man!) and that making her mad ALWAYS makes me laugh, well that would’ve ruined the effect.

She couldn’t wrap her tiny brain around me getting a permanent design put on my arm that had no meaning to me.  Uh, cuz it’s funny?  If you’re dating or married to a person that thinks they’re funny, you should be prepared for this response anytime he/she is about to do something seemingly inexplicable.  I say “uh, I don’t know? Because it’s funny!” at least 9 times a week.  The bickering between The VP and I had reached the part where our friends were genuinely beginning to feel awkward, so I turned up the heat, left the conversation and got in the tattoo line.  The VP shot a silent, flared-nostrils glare at me.  Too bad I hit her back with a cool-guy shoulder shrug once I settled in line.  “Don’t even care.”

The line was about 50 feet away from The VP and our two friends.  They watched as I stood, now arms-crossed, just a waitin’ my turn!  Dave was laughing.  The VP and her friend were not.  Well, The VP was DEFINITELY not…the other girl kinda’ was.  I mouthed “I don’t care” about 6 times to really drive home the point about who the real boss of me is.  (Honestly, at this point, it was a 50/50 split between the comedy of making her mad and actually proving that she couldn’t tell me what to do.)  Then, one of the tattoo artists made her way to me in line and told me that they were cutting off tattoo services.

Surprisingly, my “but I want one” line of arguing did not work with Tattoo Tammy.  The thing was, though, that The VP couldn’t hear that I got in line too late.  The joke could continue!  After speaking with Tattoo Tammy, I just kept lingering around the tattoo station, smiled and gave The VP a “good to go!”-thumbs up.  I probably threw in a little celebratory shoulder-shimmy too.  The VP rolled her eyes and shook her head in that VERY disappointed way that only women can do, and walked away.  If I could’ve given myself a high-five without looking like a lunatic, I would have.  In fact, I just may have anyway.

Now, I could wait like 4 minutes and then head over to The VP of Ops with a whole “I decided that I love you and didn’t want to disappoint you”-routine.  God, I’m good.  Remember the ole fliparooski?  Yeah, that move was about to be back in a BIG WAY.  Not only was I going to have gotten laughs for making her mad, but I was ALSO going to get her to feel silly for overreacting.  GOD, I’M GOOD!

Unfortunately, 4 minutes later, when I sauntered over ready to begin my rehearsed routine, The VP was laughing.  Uh…she was supposed to be kinda mad and giving me the silent treatment.  Remember?  Then I was gonna be all like “I didn’t even get it.  I was joking the whole time.”  And SHE was gonna be all like “Oh my god, I’m so sorry I get so worked up over very funny jokes that you should be applauded for.”  Well, kinda throws a wrench into those plans when she is already laughing when I arrive.

Nevertheless, I began the “I decided that I love you and didn’t want to disappoint you”-routine anyway.  She cut it off with an absolutely diabolical “Oh, I didn’t even care about that, check this out,” as she showed me something funnier than me!  WHAT?!?!? Wait, this was supposed to be my finale, my coo de grah (I know I spelled that wrong, but fuck off).  Nope, she cucked me with the move that will forever be the bane of my existence.  What move? The “oh, I forgot about your very funny joke because this is way funnier”-move.  Well played, VP…BUT I KNOW YOU WERE REALLY FUCKING MAD!

OUR WORLD:

I am aware that The National Championship game was played last night (because I lost a bunch of money on it), but “Vanderpump Rules” was also on and…well, that wins.  When a reality show trumps a title game for some sport, that means it’s a HALL OF FAMER, so I would like to induct the first four shows of Jimmyschair’s Reality Show Hall of Fame:

  1.  Vanderpump Rules
  2.  Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives
  3.  Bar Rescue

Want a tease? The rest of the week’s “Our World” section will focus on breaking down each of these shows.  Get excited.  I am!  ARE YOU?!! GUYS?!?! ARE YOU EXCITED?!?!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Posting a video likes this takes a lot of bravery on my part.  A country music performance on “The Ellen Show”? Jimmy!  That’s career suicide!  Maybe, but history rewards the bold, folks…and this song jams.

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Easily the most hated character on “Vanderpump Rules”

Kristen D.png

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

I took a bath last night, but I did it for a friend.  Now, I don’t want to say that makes me some sort of gambling warrior, but I also don’t want to NOT say that.  Lets just say that I could not be happier that the NCAA Tournament is over because sweet baby Jesus did that kick my butthole.  There are times after longs stretches of losing that I think about maybe not gambling for a little while…but The Masters are this weekend and GOTTA SPEND MONEY TO MAKE MONEY!  I may hit up a baseball game before Thursday just to get the juices flowin again…

(My account currently at $21.09)

K bye.

Bad Boy Stuff and Weekend Warnings (3/23/18)

MY WORLD:

I got caught trying to sneak into a gym yesterday.  You see, sometimes when I have a work event at night, I’ll find a gym in the town of my event to get a good PUMP (treadmill run) in before.  Being the Frugal Fred that I am (cheapass), I have found a couple of “community fitness centers” that don’t have the most attentive front-desk staff.

The particular spot I went in yesterday, I had been to multiple times over the past year.  Normally, there’s an old guy at the front desk not paying attention.  So, instead of paying the $11 one-day fee, I walk like a BAWSS straight past the front desk and into the locker room.  The old guy probably just doesn’t care enough to stop me, but I’ve convinced myself that he admires a man who walks with purpose.  That’s me!  A man who walks with purpose…so he doesn’t have to pay $11.

Yesterday, however, there was a young girl at the front desk.  No matter, my BAWSS walk (Rick Ross voice BAWSS!) would dissuade her from stopping me.  Deep breath, long, border-line angry strides and I’m fre—“Excuse me, sir!”  Can’t be talking to me….”SIR! EXCUSE ME?!”  (cue my “uh-oh” face).  I turned around like she had just snapped me out of a dream.  “Oh, yeah? Hey?”

“Can I scan you in?”

“Oh…uh….I mean…”

This is where I pretended that my parents had just moved to the suburb and they had “told me I could work out here.”  Unfortunately, she then asked for my parents names and address.  (Just cut the lies, Jimmy!  Come clean! Now! Come clean!)  And because I’m really smart and quick on my feet, I told this TRYHARD BITCH (I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean that) that my I didn’t know their address because they just moved and “my memory is just blegh!”, and that my Dad’s name is Jim Pomerantz.

As she typed “Jim Pomerantz” into her local government issued supercomputer and asked for my ID, I remembered that the first time I went to this gym, I did sign in as a guest and gave my name as “Jim”.  That’s when she asked, with a furrowed brow, “have you been here before?”  I was caught.  But, guess what? I JUST KEPT LYING.

“No.”

“Hmm, cuz we have your name and address in here as having signed in as a guest before.”

“Not me.  That’s weird.”  I actually said that guys!  Like, someone with my EXACT NAME AND ADDRESS HAD ALSO SIGNED INTO THIS COMMUNITY GYM AS A GUEST ONE TIME!!!! If that doesn’t make you laugh, then I give up forever.

I ended up paying the guest fee and dominating a treadmill.  On my way out, instead of tucking my tail between my legs, I gave that TRYHARD BITCH! (sorry) a hearty “Thank You!”  She did not respond and I’m pretty sure my picture is up in their employee lounge now.

OUR WORLD:

Guys, it’s Friday!  Oh my goodness gracious we made it!  WE MADE IT GUYS!  As we gear up for what’s definitely going to be an all-timer of a weekend (is it? I don’t know.  Who cares?) I wanted to point something out that needs to be pointed out…movies lie to us.  But Jimmy, why would you bring that up today? Of all days? I’ll tell you why my sweet babies, because the weekends are when we act most like how we see people act in the movies.

You’ve been pent up at your jobs and in your houses (you don’t have a house, Jimmy.  An apartment counts!  Well then say apartment…) all week watching movies and shows when you have any free time, so your brain is ready to talk you into acting like that dude with the good hair.  Weekends are when you at least begin contemplating how you are “going to make a change!” Before you do so, I implore you to consult the following list of things that movies tell you to do, that you should NOT do:

-Don’t tell your crush, who already has a bf/gf/husband/wife, that you are in love with them.  This applies mostly to the single, under-27 crowd, but I extended it to the real dedicated “lets fuck a life up”-crew who are contemplating ruining a marriage to have their movie moment.  There were definitely a few times when I was single and under-27 that I was POSITIVE that my crush was just waiting for me to make some touching speech in the rain to break up with her boyfriend. Thankfully, I was always a bonified (more like ‘bonerfied’ lol omg) wuss in these situations and never went through with it (I can’t believe they never noticed me sulking near them in the bar.)  

What would actually happen if you went through on this kamikaze mission? The person you are confessing your feelings to will look at you like you’re an alien.  Like “uh, dude how many times did you watch The Notebook this week?” (I’M SORRY, I DIDN’T KNOW THERE WAS A LIMIT!!!)  They’ll probably start laughing early on in your “remember when you gave me that look”-speech, and possibly call their friends over to catch a glimpse of this death spiral.  (Holy shit girls! Dan’s doing his Notebook speech!  Get over here!)    It’ll be too late for you to pull the “just kidding” card, so you’re going to prove that you have follow through and try to finish your rehearsed plea.  It will only get worse.

The spouse will show up at some point, be it during or soon after this performance, and you haven’t prepared for that, have you?  What if he doesn’t find it sad-funny and is hell bent on smashing your face in?  You don’t fight.  You pretend like you can when you’re drunk, but it’s been years since your one sorta-real fight and it was TERRIFYING.  This situation is snowballing and now you’re in the hospital.

This “dream person” has put you in the friend zone for a reason, but you also have ZERO idea what this “dream person” is like in a relationship.  What if DreamGuy is into feet stuff and the fact that he has foot fungus doesn’t hold him back from asking you to suck his toes?  That could happen!  What if DreamGirl thinks hitting on your dad is the way to get on his good side? But then your Dad is like “I still got it” and tells your Mom, the one who bakes cookies, to “scram, Donna!” …and THEN DreamGirl is kinda like “wow, he just ended his marriage for me” so she goes along with it!  NOW YOUR DREAMGIRL IS BANGING YOUR DAD!

In the end, I just don’t want your friends to catch what happened on their iPhone cameras and then send it to you for the next 33 years whenever they “could use a good laugh.”

-Don’t “just let go” and, like, jump off a cliff or something.  Granted, I have not been on a cliff that I could jump off into the clear blue sea, but, like, who cares? Just go to a pool and don’t risk hurting yourself.  Have you ever heard a friend say “I went cliff diving” and thought he/she was cooler for doing so?  Nope, and that’s ALL they were hoping for when they did that.  A bunch of out of shape people do it, so it’s really not that impressive.  And I’m sure it’s not that fun and probably hurts your feet.

-Don’t drink your sorrows away and then get in a fight at the bar.  The sitch that movies portray go like this: sad, pissed off guy with nothing to lose drinks beers and shots alone at a dive bar.  The game is on and his team is losing because, of course.  He gets progressively drunker (but his hair still looks DYNAMITE) until a big ole sumbitch at the end of the bar says something disrespectful to a woman.  “Apologize to the lady!” leads to a confrontation.  This David v. Goliath confrontation goes one of two ways, 1) David is a secretly awesome fighter guy and hits Goliath with, like, a throat punch that cuts off Goliath’s air supply (v cool move) or 2) Goliath throws David out of the bar, but David is okay cuz he only got hit once and just has a black eye that will cause a hot babe to say “lets get some ice on that.”  This will not happen to you.

You will get hit so hard by Goliath that you’ll think you’re gonna die.  Actually, you may die.  Goliath may actually manslaughter you right there.  OR, you’ll throw a punch that lands, demolishes your hand (it hurts real bad…i know cuz i got in fights…whatever, guys…not that big of a deal…it was actually really stupid…i don’t want to talk about it…you could say i have a dark side…) and then you’re going to get arrested, cry in a jail cell, and get fired on Monday.

Speaking of your job…

-Don’t quit your job in dramatic, or really any, fashion.  Who hasn’t wanted to recreate the Jerry Maguire scene at their office?  (My office even has a goldfish with a box of big plastic bags next to it!)  

jerry maguire  

Sorry to break it to you, but the response you’re going to get is the HR person putting their hand on your shoulder and asking you to “go have a chat.”  In the middle of your big fuck-off speech, someone at the back of the office will take out their headphones and interrupt you with a “what’s happening? what’s he saying?”  It’ll ruin your entire flow, you’ll get flustered and accidentally prove that you’re not as good at public speaking as the job you have necessitates.  This, my friends, is called a backfire.  Even if you stop the “I HAVE PASSIONS I NEED TO EXPLORE!”-speech now, your boss is thinking that someone with such poor planning and public speaking skills isn’t the kind of employee they need right now.

-Don’t have a cigarette.  Do they look cool in the movies? UHHHH DOUBLE DUH!  What they forget to include after the cigarette is the: instant regret, crippling “Am-I-going-to-have-to-get-one-of-those-voice-box-things?”-fear, a hangover going from a 3 to an 11, and your mouth tasting like wet ass in the morning.

 

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Since I trust you, I want to let you in on a lil secret….Shawn Mendes is a blast-off-to-outer-space STAR.  He has a new song out that DADDY LIKEY!  Get in on it now.  (Also, funny to call him “Shawn Menses” when you’re trying to cut him down in front of your lady person.)

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you take your dog for a walk and she poops twice but you only brought one bag.  Somebody saw.  Somebody definitely saw you leave that there.

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:

Now, if you’ve been paying attention to jimmyschair, you know that sometimes I change my bets midday.  Thankfully, I did that yesterday.  The picks I put up on yesterday’s blog would have gone 0 for 4.  GOOD THING I EVALUATE THINGS AS THE DAY PROGRESSES CUZ I SWITCHED TWO OF MY BETS AND ENDED UP (basically) EVEN FOR THE DAY!

Tonight?  Can you just text me what you think because I am so lost with this tournament?  That would be a nice thing to do.

(My account currently at $24.21)

K bye.