The Clubs I Would Like Entry Into

MY WORLD:

Mike Jones is a Houston rapper who rapped something about saying “Mike Jones? Who?” years ago and there are people my age joking about people who don’t know who Mike Jones is. Confused? If so, you better be careful, or you’ll end up like I did–sitting in a car laughing nervously about this “joke” while praying that the other people in the car didn’t turnaround and go “please explain this Mike Jones joke to the class, Jimmy!!!” I have no idea who Mike Jones is, still, but the people who do know who he is sounded very cool and current and alternative and COOL! So like, can I become one of those people? Can I become a “I know about cool rap stuff”-guy?

There are little groups bonded around things I don’t know about, that I’m jealous of. If you think that jealousy ends when you graduate from High School, try spending a weekend around people who know about things like Mike Jones and it’ll take you right back (tell them the story about how you used to hide in the library and eat your lunch! That’s a fun one!) While sitting in the back of a car resisting the urge to say “this Mike Jones character sure sounds spunky!” I started thinking about things, activities, and topics that I, as a 34 year old MAN, think I would like to get into at some point (unless I’m like not allowed to because that group is already full and they just can’t fit one more person into it. I mean, it’s fine, I don’t even really care. I was actually not even really interested to begin with, so it’s like, whatever. Okay…I’m gonna go back to the library now!)

Here is the Jimmyschair list of “Things I Think I’d Like to Get Into Maybe? If it’s cool? If it’s not cool, though, that’s fine. I’m just like, chill, whatever. That hat is really cool by the way. So we’ll talk later? Or not. Whatever.”:

HIKING:

Did hiking exist before Instagram? One of nature’s great unknowns, huh? It feels like a large group of the people I follow on THE GRAM (make sure you keep saying cool slang like that so people know you’re not a cop!) got together one morning and were like “alright, does everyone have their big backpack, short shorts, and sporty brown hiking boots? Nobody tell Jimmy about this! DANIEL? YOU DIDN’T TELL JIMMY ABOUT THE BIG COOL BACKPACK STORE DID YOU?!?!?! DANIEL!?!?!” Then Daniel was all “I haven’t talked to Jimmy since the Mike Jones incident,” so the group started up the hill, taking beautiful pictures meant to clog my instagram feed and make me feel VERY EXCLUDED (maybe if your thighs weren’t so big, you’d be invited to the cool, tiny shorts store!)

I don’t even know what hiking really is. Like, if I eat a Cliff Bar and then walk up a big hill in my old Brooks running shoes, did I just go hiking? I’m pretty sure rocks have to be involved on some level, so what if part of that hill walk includes me going over a gravel driveway? And the tiny tan shorts with a lot of pockets? Those are necessary for a hike, right? Like, if I wear my big white Indiana University mesh shorts while doing this uphill walk, it doesn’t count does it? DAMNIT!

At some point over the past few years, I think a professional Hiking Judge saw me buy a Cliff Bar at a 7-11 and ruled that I was guilty of “buying a Cliff bar as a treat, and not for sustenance during an Instagram-worthy trek uphill,” before sentencing me to “not a legit hiker”-jail for life. It was a tough sentence, but looking back, I understand. Why was I buying a nearly 300 calorie bar when all I was just going to be sitting in traffic for the next hour on my way home? Stern, but fair.

But is there any opportunity for parole? I’d love to find my way out of “not a legit hiker”-jail, so I, too, could be in a picture while wearing a big backpack at the top of a beautiful hill. What a feeling that must be! (And the Instagram likes! MY GOD, THE LIKES!!!) I imagine once you’re accepted into this group, you get some really cool perks like getting to eat a Cliff Bar and not having the 300 calories count because your body knows that you’re a hiker and need that stuff to push through all the rocks you’re gonna have to awkwardly step on.

Dear REI Store Worker,

Next time I walk in, I promise to pretend to know what kind of boot I’m buying and to not ask “which one do you think looks cool, though?” It’s all about utility, I get it. Looks? Don’t even care.

SNEAKERS:

A good amount of my friends talk about online sneaker releases, secondary markets for sneakers they bought a few months ago, and the basketball shoes that some non-mega-star has coming out that are “amazing!” I have no idea what they’re ever talking about, so I’ll throw in cheap jokes meant to throw them off my insecure scent. “You guys see the new ‘Gary Levinson’s’? No? They’re the new Brooks running shoes for suburban dads who can’t really run anymore because of their knees.”

BUT! They sound pretty cool talking about the “New Kawhi’s” and the new “Paul George” shoes and…I don’t even know if I’m supposed to fucking call them shoes or sneakers. I feel like a gym teacher from the 80s calling them sneakers, but then I swear I’ve heard a DJ on Hip Hop Radio Station use the word “sneakers” and sound cool so…What is it?!?! SHOES OR SNEAKERS?!?! GIVE ME A SIGN, GOD! GIVE ME A SIGN!

These guys are also able to pull off the new basketball sneaker/shoe with skinny jeans look, and that’s kinda unfair when I’m having a hard enough time pulling off the running shoe with relaxed jeans look (you’ve got the “suburban surrender”-look down pat!) Whenever I’m around someone NAILING this look, all I can think about is “aren’t you scared of getting those dirty? And how have they not gotten ONE SPEC OF DIRT ON THEM?!?! DO YOU HAVE SOMEONE FOLLOWING YOU AROUND WIPING YOUR SHOES WITH DISINFECTANT WIPES!?!?!” Also, do you play basketball in those shoes too? Or is that like a lame thing to do? I’m pretty sure there is one set of basketball shoes meant for skinny jeans, and then another set of basketball shoes meant for…actually playing basketball, and if you mix the two up, you’re kicked out of the sneaker guy club forever.

Last time I played basketball, I wore Brooks.

SCARY MOVIES:

I’m just tired of feeling the compulsion to blurt out “they give me nightmares” anytime the topic of scary movies comes up around me. It’s not a cool look. I’m also pretty sure that the people around me are annoyed that they can’t talk about some make-believe monsters because the 34 year old dude next to them, wearing Brooks and a small backpack, will get scared when he goes seepy at night if they do. (Here’s an idea: quit being a fucking baby, Jimmy!)

So can I just decide to stop being a baby? Is there a pill I can take that will cause me to enjoy scenes where teenagers get stabbed by a guy wearing a mask at a cabin in the woods? The people that seem to really enjoy scary movies, REALLY FUCKING ENJOY SCARY MOVIES AND LOVE TALKING ABOUT THEM! Hey guys, I love talking about stuff! Being able to talk about brutal murders while smiling also connotes a brand of “bad-assery” that I wouldn’t mind being a part of. It’s a high-wire act between bad-assery and “hey, do you think Eric liked that torture scene a little too much?” Once you master it, you’ll be as cool as Nick Wallenda walking in between skyscrapers (minus the weird family stuff going on there…)

There has to be an age you reach, where you’re just like “I pay bills and talk about politics with relatives, I can watch ‘Scream’ without softly whimpering into my pillow later. Is that age 34? CAN IT PLEASE BE 34?!?!

OUR WORLD:

I’m going on an impromptu, not-fun road trip to Kentucky today and so, of course, I will be allowed to cheat on my diet because road trip calories don’t count. Here are the Top 10 “Road Trip Treats”:

Gardetto’s Snack Mix
McDonald’s breakfast
BBQ Pringles
Chick-Fil-A waffle fries with Chick-Fil-A sauce
Teriyaki Beef Jerky
Honey roasted peanuts
Gummy worms
White chocolate and macadamia nut Cliff Bar
Diet Mountain Dew
7-11 Coke Slushy

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you get that feeling in the back of your throat that means you’re about to get sick, but you’re not TOTALLY sick yet. It’s like walking around with a bomb strapped to your chest AND YOU CAN’T GET THAT TICKING SOUND OUT OF YOUR HEAD!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I don’t know this person, but…

cheering young woman hiker open arms at mountain peak

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I’m at $0 right now and feeling lost. I want to gamble on something but I’m tired of baseball and I think I’m really bad at this thing. But…what if I’m not? What if I just need to…yep….STAY THE FUCKING COURSE!!!

K, bye.

I Don’t Know How to Do Many Simple Things (8/21/18)

MY WORLD:

A few days ago, I got out of the shower, grabbed the towel hanging on the towel hangy thing (hook!) and brought it to my nose. The classic “as long as this towel doesn’t smell like dinosaur B.O., it’s clean”-check. I know what you’re thinking, “but Jimmy, did you also look at the towel to see if there were any obvious stains?” Do I look like an animal? Of course I did. So that means it’s clean, right? As long as there are no obvious stains and it doesn’t stink, a towel is clean no matter how many consecutive days you have used said towel.

When I was a kid, I used to marvel at how my parents just knew stuff. They knew how to get to the mall. They knew how to check my toothbrush to see if I had actually brushed my teeth. They knew how to make sandwiches! THEY KNEW EVERYTHING! And while they passed on enough survival skills for me to make it 33 years, they did not pass on some skills that seem relatively meaningless, but have become gaping holes in my progress as an adult. Oh, and when I say “they did not pass on,” I mean “I pretended to listen when they taught me about _______.” Aside from not knowing how to tell if a towel is dirty or not, here are some other adult-things that I should know, but definitely do not…and probably never will.

How to hang a picture:

It was much easier to hide this deficiency when I was living alone or with roommates. There’s always one roommate with a fancy toolbox who can’t wait to show off the ruler-thing with the water bubble in the middle. (Yes, I know it’s called a leveler, but ruler-thing with water bubble in the middle just felt right.) Whenever we’d move in and got to the point where it was time to hang all our “sweet sports posters” around the apartment, I’d pretend that I was busy doing something else until THAT roommate broke out the power drill and started asking “how’s this look here?” Whenever I’d hear that question, my body would finally relax, for my secret was safe another day. “Looks great! I’ll start putting away the silverware!” Little did they know that the silverware was already jammed into a drawer that I could no longer open. No matter, Jimmy NoHang was out of the line of fire.

When I lived alone, and there was no one to inspect or judge what I did to the wall, I would only hang stuff with wires in the back. My process? Nail in the wall, wire on the nail. BOOM! JIMMY HANGS IS IN THE BUILDING! Did I find the stud? Pretty hard to find the stud when you have no idea what that is so…uh…no, I did not find El Stud. An anchor? Those are only for boats! Was the frame level? Take five steps back, squint and you tell me if it looks “pretty level.” Better yet, let me save you those five steps, it’s fine. Was it centered? Did you not just hear me re: the picture being level? I TOOK FIVE STEPS BACK, LOOKED AT IT AND SAID “IT’S PRETTY GOOD.” WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!?!?

Unfortunately, using the caveman method of hanging stuff on walls (nail, slam, hang!) is a secret not meant to see the light of an apartment shared with a significant other. The friggin’ VP of Ops sniffed out this deficiency of mine the way a dog smells another dog on your jeans. When we first moved in together she handed me a super heavy mirror to “just hang over the dresser.” You got it babe! That mirror rested on top of our dresser for the 2 years we were in that apartment and was the subject of multiple “wait! don’t hit the mirror!”-warnings. Mirrors that lean against a wall, instead of being hung on a wall, were very in at the time.

Since then, we have moved to a new place where I actually DID hang said mirror on the wall…by putting a wire on the back of it and slamming multiple nails into a wall. Quick tip on nails and walls: if you hit the nail with a hammer and it doesn’t go any further, just hit the nail harder. If the nail still doesn’t budge, then take it out and move it a little to the side and try the exact same process. The mirror now hides about 8 false starts for me and the nails, but it’s up! And no, I am not worry-free when I sit directly in front of it. Have you ever played the “I hope this big, heavy mirror doesn’t fall on me!”game? It’s a rush!

mirror

How to know when it’s time for a new razor:

When I used the Gillette Mach Whatever that had the moisturizer strip on the top, I would know I needed a new razor when that strip went bare. But then, I grew up and realized that, that dumb fuckin’ strip was probably just a devious ploy by evil Johnny Gillette to sell more razors. Not so fast! I can use this razor until…shit…when?

My dad used to use the disposable razors when I was a kid, which made the whole process easy: use it, toss it. But I saw commercials about the Mach 3 that looked really cool and my friends were using it so, what? I’m supposed to be the lame kid who uses the cheap bic razors? NOT ON MY WATCH! And it’s not like I’m Beardy McThickBeard ova’ here, so I can probably get away with using the same Gillette for….shit….I still have no idea. Worse yet, the Gillette’s are kinda’ expensive AND the razor refills are locked behind glass at most stores. This is me every time I’m in a store looking at the razors behind the glass, “I’ve gotta go ALL THE WAY up to the front and ask someone to come unlock these? Meh, I’m sure I’ll be fine for another week.” I do that for like a hundred weeks in a row.

The breaking point usually comes that once or twice a year when I pump myself up about finally, truly becoming a cool adult man. It’s usually the same time of the year where I’ll go to a decent store, buy 8 of the same shirts in different colors and a new pair of pants because “this is what real men do.” On the way home from the outlet mall (leave that part out!) I’ll pass a Walgreens and be like “you know what? I’m going to buy a nice razor because that’s what real men do.” Yeah! I want the best a man can get! Then, as I wait for Angry Paulette to come and unlock the razor treasure chest on aisle 4, I’ll stare at my phone and start to panic as I type in the password for my Chase Mobile Account. By the time Angry Paulette arrives with the tiny key, I 100% do not want to spend $17.99 on this razor anymore, but she’s already here and it would be weird if I didn’t after putting her through the enormous trouble of walking from aisle 4 to the register and back. So, I smile through all her huffing and puffing as I follow her back to the register with my overpriced Gillette while going over how long I can go without paying my cable bill before they shut it off. It’s cool guys, you’ve got a whole ‘nother month.

How to change a tire:

Tough day for my masculinity on today’s chair, but these are deeply held secrets that must be brought out into the open because I couldn’t think of anything else to write about today! The fact that I don’t know how to change a tire is something I really really really did not want to write about because I’m positive that it will lead to me blowing out a tire in the very near future. It’s called jinxing yourself, and if you don’t believe in that stuff then I’m jealous of your rational thought patterns.

This is an instance where my dad definitely taught me how to change a tire multiple times, but I just pretended like I was listening every time and never actually learned how to do it. The advent of internet phones has soothed my fears of this deficiency since I can just google “how to change my tire,” if it happens, but still. If The VP and I are driving to Mississippi and I blow out a tire in the middle of “who the fuck lives in a place without cell service”-Arkansas we are officially screwed.

What would probably happen is I would pretend to be calm about the whole situation while leafing through the car manual held in my glove compartment. When I’d get to the part about putting the car up on the jack though, my insecurities would get the best of me and I would convince The VP that “shit, I’m missing a tool.” I’d act all mad about not being able to do it myself, but like “whoever put this tool kit together just forgot the…” I’d have to quickly come up with something that sounds like the name of the tool I’m missing. Okay okay, “whoever put this tool kit together just left out the tire iron.” THAT’S DEFINITELY A THING THAT SOUNDS NECESSARY!!! The VP would buy my book of lies and then we’d either have to wait for a not-scary older man to stop and help OR until the town put up a cell tower so I could google “how to find a not-scary older man who can come out here and change my tire for me, but tell my wife that the reason I couldn’t do it was because I was missing a tire iron.”

OUR WORLD:

The VMAs were on last night and The VP and I had absolutely zero interest in watching it. Instead, she went through Instagram and showed me pictures of the artists that were winning awards and we played the “oh my god, we’re so old!”-game. From afar, I hate this game, when people over 30 but under 45 laugh to each other about how old they feel because they can’t play video games all day or know the top-rated show on MTV anymore. Hey, lets chat about something super mundane that I did and then laugh because I followed it with a “oh my god, I’m so old” punchline! HAHAHAHAHA! Pass the barf bag.

But when you’re alone in your apartment, and feeling older than you’ve ever felt because that’s the truth, you kinda…laugh to yourself about how old you are. And guess what I am right now? I’m alone in my apartment. DAMNIT! Let’s go through the Top 10 list of things that make people over 30 feel old even though we’re not and it’s actually kinda’ obnoxious when we say stuff like this:

When we suffer a relatively minor injury.
When we are hungover.
When we scroll through Instagram and mention how many pictures of babies are in our feeds.
When we cook at home.
When we choose to stay in on a Friday night and text apologies to our friends because “we’re so lame lol”
When we talk about buying a Costco. membership.
When we go to any college sporting event at any college.
When we tell everyone with ears how busy we are at work.
When we find the one gray hair on our heads and then proudly talk about how you’re not going to pull it out.
When we get up early.

I hate this shit.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

From time to time, I’ll go on kicks where I get super back into 90s bands. Currently, I’m in a anything-Chris-Cornell sings on phase. Enjoy the best rock voice of all-time.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you eat leftovers in the morning and then lunchtime hits and you’re like “well, am I allowed to even eat lunch after smashing through that whole plate of leftovers at 9:07 this morning?” So you just get a small bag of almonds and look forward to dinner.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I bet on preseason football over the weekend and went 1 for 2. Overall, I lost $7 this weekend but that’s because of baseball. By the way, FUCK BETTING ON BASEBALL! I mean, I’m still gonna do it, but I’ve decided I hate it. HATE.

(My account currently sits at $43.18)

K bye.

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

MY WORLD:

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

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

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

Buying toilet paper before I run out

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

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

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

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

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

OUR WORLD:

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

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

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

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

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

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

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

(My account currently at $327.55)

K bye.

March Madness and Sunday Groceries

OUR WORLD:

The NCAA Tournament starts Thursday. Actually, it starts like Tuesday with these ridiculous “Play-In” games that nobody cares about except…ME! OMG GUYS, I ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT THEM THIS YEAR! Ucla plays St. Bonaventure on Tuesday and I’m terrified because I kinda remember hearing someone talk about “The Bonnies!” like 8 years ago during March Madness, and that makes me think they’re gonna pound UCLA. And that, my friendos, is why this time of year is just lovely. EVERYBODY IS ABOUT TO JOIN ME IN THE GAMBLING POOL AND SHARE THEIR RIDICULOUS REASONS FOR PICKING CERTAIN “SLEEPERS”! (Except, they’re not ridiculous if you have a system and my system is SO due to work that anyone in a gambling pool with me this year should just Venmo me their money now. Guys, I’m coming for fucking blood this year.)

As we all know, I do place wagers from time to time because I’m a gentleman and need a release from the endless, overwhelming stresses of adulthood that cause some people to do crack cocaine under a bridge. I’m not doing crack cocaine under a bridge, okay? So, how ’bout ya fuckin cool it with the personalized “gambling is bad for Jimmy” PSA’s? I REPEAT, I AM NOT DOING CRACK COCAINE UNDER A BRIDGE! (Real talk, I don’t know what “doing crack cocaine” really means…Smoking I think? But, you snort cocaine so…you snort smoke? Yep, got it. Thanks guys.) Now that we’ve established that gambling IS part of a healthy lifestyle, I would like to share with you how I pick the games in the NCAA tourney.

First, I would like to point out that I went 6 for 7 on NCAA bball picks this past weekend. I am aware that you may be skeptical, but there is proof in my bovada account. Therefore, it is official that I. AM. BACK. The best teams put it together when it counts, and that’s exactly what I have done. Credit to me for sticking with it and ignoring the haters. As Rocky Balboa said, in the feature film Rocky Balboa: “It ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.” (I sent a GIF with this quote on Saturday morning because it was truly inspiring).

Second, this time of year is a dangerous time of year because gambling RUBES think it’s their turn to share all their “secrets” because they won a work pool six years ago. The VP of Ops is one of these people, and I have had it! She placed 2nd or maybe 3rd in a work pool a couple years back or, as she puts it, she “Won”. (Uhhhh, no ya didn’t.) Therefore, she has felt it necessary to remind me that she picked Villanova when nobody else did (even though they were a favorite and many many people definitely picked them), so I should now listen to her gambling methods. Seriously, within the past 36 hours, The VP of Ops has reminded me that she “won” (aka didn’t win) her work pool at least 19 billion thousand times. I GET IT! She’ll then recall her thought process when she picked Villanova as “ya’ know, I just heard someone say their name and I liked the way it sounded.” Oh, you did? Did you hear Jay Bilas say “Villanova is a one seed and, thus, a favorite to win the whole thing?” and then pick them?!?! IT WASN’T THAT GREAT OF A PICK! JESUS H, SOMEBODY SAVE ME FROM THIS HELLSCAPE!!!!

Now that we’ve established that I’m back and The VP of Ops should pipe down with her “tips”, here is how I go about picking teams in the NCAA Tourney:

1) Do they have a player that I have heard is going to be a high NBA draft pick? If yes, they’re going to win at least 2 rounds. If they don’t, then it falls into a whole other category of research. This year, the teams that fall into this category include: Oklahoma (Trae Young), Arizona (Deandre Ayton), Duke (Marvin Bagley), Missouri (Michael Porter Jr.), Alabama (Colin Sexton). I know there are other top prospects, but these are the ones I’ve heard of the most sooooo…..LOCK IT IN!

2) Did I watch them play and win at least one game within the past 2 weeks? If yes, I’m probably going to pick them “because they look good”. That team for me this year is MOS DEF Kentucky. I watched them beat Tennessee yesterday (and win me some stinky, sweaty money) and folks, lemme tell ya’, they’re gonna make some noise. Why? Happy, you asked…because they looked good. (They may end up playing Arizona in the second round and my brain hurts trying to think of what I’ll do in that sitch.)

3) Identify the team that BONES you every year, and attempt to pick their games the opposite of what you think will actually happen. Michigan State is this team for me EVERY. GODDAMN. YEAR. When I pick them to go deep, they get bounced in the first round. When they’re my upset special, they make it to the Final Four and I get to watch endless stories about how close Tom Izzo is with his “guys”. Guess what? This year, if I think they’re gonna win, picking them to lose. That’s called fighting fire with fire, kids.

4) Don’t pick the favorite to win it all. Pick like the 3rd or 4th most likely team. You’ve got to plan ahead and assume that some stuff hasn’t gone your way in the early goings of the tourney. How do you make this up? By picking a team that not everyone has picked to win it all. This year, everyone and their dumb mom is gonna pick Duke. Don’t pick Duke. (I kinda wanna pick Duke).

5) Find a traditional football school that you’re surprised is a high seed and BET THE HOUSE against them. This one’s the best, guys. Works almost every time. This year, you can pick from: Texas Tech, Auburn, and Tennessee. One, but probably all, are going down early because, like, get fuckin’ real guys.

And that’s it. I would say I wish you all tremendous amounts of luck as you venture into the gambling paradise that is March Madness, but I don’t wish that. I hope you lose. I hope I win.

P.S. If you see The VP of Ops over the next 3 days, ask her about the time she picked Villanova. She’ll light up and immediately start telling you every single detail about why she picked them. As she starts to do this, put your hand in her face and say something cool like “long hair, don’t care,” then walk away. Do this for me. Thank you.

MY WORLD:

My underrated favorite part of the weekend is doing my weekly grocery shopping on Sunday afternoon. It’s a grownup thing that I’ve really only started doing in the past year-ish, but it has become my preferred method of getting over the last remnants of a hangover/avoiding the Sunday Scaries for another hour. My grocery shopping routine, however, includes an endless inner-dialogue where I’m constantly talking myself out of buying the unhealthier (but way tastier) options.

For instance, the grocery store that I go to the most has the produce section right when I walk in. I’ll grab bananas (NANAS!), brussels sprouts, broccoli, potatoes, some sort of lettuce, and maybe a big fruit that requires carving for The VP of Ops (this fruit will 100% get old and rot before The VP ever cuts into it. I will remind her of this CERTAINTY before we buy it, but she is forceful that “won’t happen this time”. It will. It always does.) By the time, we get through the end of the produce section, we are feeling great about our healthy cart. Someone will pass me with a cart full of carbs and I’ll shoot them a “check this shit out”-look. The proud parade of a healthy cart, however, begins to slow as we hit the bakery section.

This is so mean when grocery stores put the bakery at the end of the produce section. They lull you into thinking you’re healthy and then BAM, donut smells. I normally make some sort of borderline-sexual purring sound, to which The VP responds: “don’t look don’t look don’t look.” I want smash my fat face into the donuts and cookies and cakes and breads and I WANNA DIE IN THERE! I WANT TO DIE IN THE MARIANO’S BAKERY! Somehow, miraculously, I don’t buy anything. It’s a triumph. I’ll look at The VP and we’ll share a smile as if to say “We made it.” It’s sweet.

But then the fucking cheese section hits. This a black hole for The VP. I’ll normally lose her in the soft cheese section. She’ll grab a hunk (term? no idea) of way-too-expensive soft cheese and just look at me. She’s hoping I say yes, but scared that I will at the same time. During the period of Chubby Jimmy, I said yes to soft cheeses too much. Reminder: soft cheese is a gateway drug to the cracker aisle, a seemingly-innocuous aisle that kills many-a-skinny people. I say no to these cheeses now. The VP kinda pouts, but deep down is happy I’m such a magnificent influence (ME!).

Once clear of the bakery and cheese section, we’re safe for a while. Chicken, pork and steaks dive into the cart because they don’t have carbs and healthy people talk a lot about protein so…they’re all good for us. MEAT! Sometimes, The VP will try to talk us into buying salmon, but salmon at home stinks. Real talk, I love salmon at a restaurant every now and then, but cooking it at home is A) gross, cuz fishy’s feel slimy, and B) the worst because your place smells like fish for the next 43 hours minimum. No fishy.

Dairy section includes milk for coffee, butter for muffy and the occasional egg purchase if I’m feeling extra ambitious about cooking breakfast for myself that week (these eggs normally meet the same fate as VPs big fruit. Straight trash homie.) The VP may toss some yogurt in our cart, triggering my gag reflex HARD. Yogurt makes a nasty sound when you swirl it and has the consistency of my nightmares. I would rather be in a small room with angry ex-cons than be next to ANYBODY eating yogurt. Seriously, eat yogurt alone in a closet. It’s disgusting.

The final hurdles for me are the soda and chip aisles. Technically, we don’t HAVE to go down either aisle, but I’m a man of intrigue…and these aisles intrigue me. Since watching some way-too-real Katie Couric food documentary, we can’t drink soda anymore. Evidently, it’s like poison. (Thanks for ruining my life Katie!) We’ll make our way to La Croix and try convince ourselves that all the flavors don’t basically taste the same (god, they’re disappointing). The whole time, though, I’m remembering the guilt-free good old days where I’d drink Coke Zero and Diet Mountain Dew to my heart’s desire. A faint smile will cross my face and I’ll look up to the stars cuz that’s what you do when you remember happy times. Then The VP will dump a case of peach-pear La Croix bullshit into our cart and I’ll come crashing back down to reality. Katie Couric can go STRAIGHT to hell.

Final aisle on the way to the register is the chip aisle and….ohhhhhh momma! Doritos, Salt & Vins, Ruffles! Guys, Lays! They have all of them! Again, another aisle I don’t need to go down, but I will convince myself that I really need the butter-free popcorn at the end of the aisle just so I can walk and fantasize. Can some scientist somewhere just take a break from space stuff and focus on creating a pill that makes chips good for you? Honestly, it’s ridiculous that this hasn’t been invented yet. Ridiculous!

The register is the finish line. Chubby Jimmy used to grab a York peppermint patty for the ride home, but no longer! Now, I just plan the Sunday Night drinks menu in my head as The VP and I discuss whether it’s a “Documentary” or “Peaky Blinders” kinda-night. Sunday Scaries creep in…and now it’s Monday and we’re all sad.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Inspiration in it’s purest form: (with spanish subtitles because I don’t know why)

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Top 10 Villain Face

Devos

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 hot guys. We all knew I’d get there, and I’m there. Sitting out tonight to save my strength and gambling intellect for the rest of this week. It’s gonna be a long one, guys. Get your 8 hours.

(My account currently at $59.11)

K bye.