Jobs Worse Than Yours and Hateable Celebs (4/16/18)

OUR WORLD:

It’s Monday and, guys, it’s only gonna get better. Keep that in mind as you trudge your weekend-fat ass through the snow (yeah, it is snowing in Chicago) to work today because it can’t get worse than a bad weather Monday AND you have food poisoning (just me? I’m not really sure what food poisoning is, but anytime I have real bad stomach issues I think “must be poison.” Could it be that I ate like a pig for the past 72 hours? Nah. Poison.) By now, you should be making your own “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job List to help you get through Mondays like this. If you haven’t, I’ll let you use mine:

-Mid to Low Level Drug Dealer: This is NOT a chill job. Can you imagine if selling drugs was what you had to do to pay your rent? You would have to say things to yourself like “I didn’t sell a lot of drugs yesterday, so I probably shouldn’t buy this J.Crew shirt.” And, unlike most sales-based jobs, the days of super low sales probably wouldn’t even crack the Top 100 list of “Worst Days as a Drug Dealer”. There would be at least 37 “time I got a gun pulled on me”-days, some “got a knock at my door at 3AM”-days, and, DEFINITELY, a few “the drug kingpin accused me of wearing a wire”-days. Talk about NEVER being able to just coast though a workday.

And what are the good days like? I know in the movies there’s like a big drop of drugs in the dark and like a fancy briefcase filled with cash, but that can’t happen for the mid to low-level drug dealer. The lower level dealers don’t get the mansions and lambos and cool sunglasses; they get knock-off Oakleys and a Dodge Neon with an AC that doesn’t even work. I guess a good day would be if they got promoted to deal drugs to rich people, but then the chances of going to jail for a long time go up too. Promotions in the drug dealing world just mean that now, you have to do MORE serious crimes. And you definitely can’t tell the Druglord Boss-guy that you don’t want the promotion. You think Scarface is gonna be cool when you explain that the whole “transporting cocaine on boats in the night”-thing just isn’t what you had in mind when you started with the company?

If you do a bad job, the worst thing that can happen to you is getting fired or, maybe, scolded by your boss in a way so personal that you cry alone in your car later that night. If a drug dealer does a bad job? Something WORSE THAN DEATH could happen…JAIL! (Jail is worse than death times a billion. I’ve talked about this in the past, but jail is my number one fear in life.) With the constant fear of death/jail, is a drug dealer ever in a true state of relaxation? Are there any days where they just watch Netflix for 11 hours and not freak out about a sound they just heard? And don’t forget that there’s no getting out of this life. Once you’re a drug dealer, there will always be people that are planning to do something bad to you and cops that remember not being able to catch you in the act.

-Prison Guard: I got in an Uber last summer with a guy who told me that he just moved to Chicago to become a prison guard. He voluntarily moved from Nevada to Chicago because he looked at a prison guard opening as a GOOD OPPORTUNITY. Thank sweet baby Jesus that there are people like this guy, cuz I can’t believe the government doesn’t have to draft people into these types of positions. Yes, socioeconomic factors greatly impact who views what as a “good opportunity”, I’m aware of this, but I’m also aware that discussion is heavy and serious and not appropriate for the FUN BLOG! Carrying on…

To be a prison guard, you not only have to be big and scary, but also smart enough to anticipate problems arising from places you didn’t expect. If you’re big and scary and smart then shouldn’t you be the head of like a steel-workers union? I’m pretty sure those are the qualifications to head a blue collar union: big, scary, smart. But no, you’d pass up the opportunity to shake calloused, meaty hands to break up fights over why the head of the Aryan Brotherhood got an extra milk? (The Uber-driver/prision guard told me that most of the fights he dealt with in his Nevada prison were over milk and juice.)

I’m sure there are days without fights where maybe you’d connect on a personal level with one of the inmates. Maybe you could help Larry deal with the misery of being behind bars and watch as he evolved into the person his parents always told him he wouldn’t be. You’d talk about meeting up “outside of these damn bars” one day, and complain to your wife about how corrupt the judicial system is. And then that one day would happen, and you’d go meet to meet Larry at the Outback in the nice mall. Larry would smile when he saw you waiting for him at the table, and walk over slowly while shaking his head in disbelief that he was able to survive incarceration. Before you ordered, though, your wife would send you a text saying that she “can’t keep worrying about your safety all day, everyday”. Larry thinks your wife’s worries are a sign of a sweet relationship, but you didn’t tell Larry about the following text where your wife admitted that she had “met someone.” So now you’re having dinner with an ex-con who required the attention that it would have taken to save your marriage…and your steak is overcooked because you’re at a fucking Outback inside of a mall.

-Hair washer at a salon: As a resident fancy-boy, I get my hair cut at salons as opposed to a barbershop. Everyone knows that the best part of getting your hair cut at a salon is when they wash your hair and give you a head massage. If you don’t make purring sounds while they’re doing this, you’re probably offending the hair washer. You’ll try to remember the head massage tactics they used so you can attempt to recreate it on yourself during your next shower, but it won’t be the same. When the hair washer is done, though, think about how you’re probably the least gross person they’re going to have to deal with that day. (Real talk, if you’re reading this blog, you’re not gross. Welcome to the not-gross club.)

People have weird heads and nasty hair and gnarly things on their scalp. These hair washers can’t refuse to wash the head of some dude who hasn’t showered in a week and has a BAD case of scalp acne. I think they can wear surgical gloves, but what about the days when they didn’t realize they were low on those gloves and now they’re all out? I also think that LEGIT hair washers look down on the ones who wear gloves; like, they’re not dedicated enough and probably aren’t spoken to at the Hair Washer Happy Hours.

You ever go to get your haircut after wearing a hat all day? How bad do you feel? Like, MUCHO BAD, right? Well, that’s because you’re a normal human being. Unfortunately, there’s another kind of human being out there that thinks subjecting a hair washer to that is “not my problem.” AND! The hair washer doesn’t get tipped. What the hell is that all about? I’m guessing they get tipped out by the stylist (term for hair cutter person at hot salons), but it probably isn’t NEARLY enough. I contend that it’s way harder to give a good head massage than give a good haircut. Listen, you can learn how to cut bangs. You can’t learn how to have magic hands. Now that I think about it, next time I go to get my haircut, I’m going to tip the hair washer person more than my stylist AND I’m gonna make sure the stylist sees it. I’m sure the stylist will be annoyed, but then remember that she doesn’t have to accidentally pop strangers’ head pimples for the rest of the day and go back to being thankful that she’s not a hair washer.

MY WORLD:

Do you love or hate some celebrities for no discernible reason? ME TOO! It usually comes down to their face, which is scary to think about because I’m sure strangers have walked past me and hated me just because of my face (my mom VEHEMENTLY disagrees with this btw). So what celebrities do I hate for no discernible reason (but maybe it’s just their face)? Here’s what I’ve got:

-Michael Strahan

-Josh Gad

-Nick Kroll

-Angelina Jolie

-Helena Bonham Carter

I started writing some more fleshed out reasoning behind hating these celebs, but…I really think it’s just their face. So let’s leave it at that. This is such an internet-y thing to do, but everyone has these thoughts…right? RIGHT?!?!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I went to High School with Beck Bennett (SNL star, no big deal, he probably has no idea who I am but whatevs) and this was from his college comedy group.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Snow.

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:

This was a surprisingly even weekend…which is a win in gambling terms. “Even” = “Lost a little” = “Didn’t lose a lot” = “Win”. Get it? Anyway, I put some sweet cash on an NBA playoff parlay where I picked all the favorites to win their first round series (Rockets, Warriors, Thunder, Blazers, Cavs, Raptors, Celtics, and Sixers). If that parlay hits, which I really can’t see why it wouldn’t, it pays out at over +660 so…I’m about to be super rich again. ALSO! We’ve discovered that one of my friends is a savant at NHL Playoff gambling. He went like 6 for 7 this weekend and has earned the nickname ‘Chel Jim. Love ‘Chel Jim. Aside from rooting for NBA favorites tonight, I’ll be patiently waiting for ‘Chel Jim to text me his NHL picks.

(My account currently at $219.55)

K bye.

Bar Rescue and My Warning (4/4/2018)

OUR WORLD:

Yesterday, I bestowed a very prestigious honor upon three reality television shows when I inducted “Vanderpump Rules”, “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” and “Bar Rescue” into the jimmyschair reality tv show Hall of Fame. With controversy over the initial selections SWIRLING, I would like to explain why I am right and you are wrong and I am the best and you are the worst. Jk lol guys! It’s called a joke, ever heard of it?!?! Gah!

I would, however, like to give Hall of Fame intros for each of these wonderful shows. Why? Because they deserve it. First up, “Bar Rescue”:

Do you remember where you were the first time you saw Taffer swagger his ass into a dirty bar on his way to save his reconnaissance team from eating undercooked chicken?! It was probably on your couch, on a Sunday morning, wasn’t it? You were hungover, weren’t you? You were probably a real grimy piece of shit that morning, weren’t you? Yeah, you were. I was. We all were. Little did we know that all we needed was a few hours of Taffer berating stupid bar owners. Running a bar isn’t just a business, it’s a science. Put down the advil, “Bar Rescue” was on.

A lot of people often ask how this somewhat out-of-shape, uggo faced nobody with thinning hair slicked back like an 80s movie villain was able to resonate with audiences the way he has. So many people have asked me this, guys. Like, in my head while I’m writing this, so many people.. I believe it’s because he’s EXACTLY the kind of guy that you think a bar owner would look like. When you think “owner of a bar in town that’s kinda’ dirty,” you see Jon Taffer’s face. Boom, authenticity right off the bat but, uh oh! Then Taffer dribbles behind his back and you’re let in on the FACT that he has transformed HUNDREDS of bars WORLDWIDE! That’s right, you judged this book by it’s cover, and you were DEAD wrong. Taffer doesn’t own that “bar in town that’s kinda’ dirty”; he turns money pits into money makers.

Your hangover headache begins to subside because your brain is faced with being wrong about your initial Taffer impressions. Then, as the show kicks in, you see how much he cares for people…people like you. Bet you wish that some hardo with bad hair would’ve yelled at the bar owner who over served you last night. Taffer would have! Your stomach feeling weird from those nachos you had the night before? The Taff-man would’ve spotted that! (Hidden cameras?!?!) YEAH, HE HAS HIDDEN CAMERAS GUYS! Taff-A-Rama would’ve seen that Chef Boyar-poophands didn’t properly sanitize the serving laddle before scooping that nacho cheese onto the tortilla chips. How hard is it to wash a laddle!?!?! But Taffer wouldn’t have just watched this happen to you. No. He would’ve stormed out of his 2007 Chevrolet Tahoe XL, parked inconspicuously across the street so as not to garner any unwanted attention, and gotten to those nasty ‘chos before you turned your hand into a mouth shovel. Taffer is the hero we deserve.

Then, as we descend into the depths of hangover depression alongside the Dorito crumbs that have piled up on our dirty t-shirts, Taffer introduces us to someone who makes WORSE decisions than you: the bar owner. Normally, they’ll be taking shots with customers, or yelling at employees, or throwing loose papers on their desk. Jon walks in and immediately fingers them as “the bad guy”. What does that mean? That means YOU are not the bad guy any longer, you were simply the victim of a poorly run bar. HE is the bad guy.

They’ll normally be real defensive and shitty when Taffer calmly and politely, but also sternly, introduces himself. A “whatever”-eye-roll is a go-to move for the shitty bar owners here. Or, the incredulous “what?!” when Taffer asks WHY THEY HAVE BEEN SERVING ‘CHOS USING A DIRTY FUCKING LADDLE?!?!?! WHY?! (Let’s call this shitty owner, Vic. That’s a shitty owner name.) WHY ARE YOU SERVING NACHO CHEESE USING A RAT-SHIT INFESTED LADDLE, VIC? Vic will probably shake his head, or give Taffer the “pshh” hand gesture. Meanwhile, you’re beginning to realize that it was fucking Vic’s fault as to why your stomach is so messed up. GET HIM JOHN!

Vic will try to walk away because he has a short temper and doesn’t want to be set off, but guess what? Taffer ain’t scared of you, Vic. Taffer’s a tall man who has big huge muscles underneath that layer of authentic chub (non-trainers that have 6-pack abs simply do not work hard at their jobs. Fact.) The Taff-man will continue to search for an answer re:dirty laddle because he is here to root out the problem. Vic will continue to walk away until…”I don’t know, Jon!” But, Jon DOES know. BECAUSE YOU’RE LAZY, VIC!

Are you lazy? Possibly. As lazy as Vic, though? No way. Phew, you’re in the clear. So not only is Taffer a bar scientist, but he has also been trained in the art of cutting-to-the-core-issue. Vic is lazy, and until Vic comes to terms with that, his bar will FAIL. Doctors have to run expensive tests before reaching a diagnosis. Taffer’s test is free, and it’s called “the eye test”. “I knew, once Vic turned around and looked me in the eye, that the reason the paddle wasn’t clean is because he is a lazy human being”-Taffer.

As enthralling as the initial confrontation and IMMEDIATE diagnosis was, that’s just the beginning. Now that you’re beginning to come out of your hangover hell (it wasn’t your fault!) you are treated to a behind-the-scenes look at what it takes to run an effective bar. Taffer, knowing that he isn’t an expert in EVERYTHING (humility), has enlisted the help of his friends; and he’s only friends with people who are experts in their fields. There’s gonna be the fat chef wearing the newsboy cap and thumb rings. You like sliders? Well Chef Thumbrings has cooked sliders at hotels in a little town called LAS VEGAS, NEVADA! And those sliders are….uh…well, judging by the fact that he has a chef’s shirt with his name on it, they must be pretty fuggin’ perfect. That’s not the only one Taffer brought, though. You remember that bartender with the menacing smile who shook two metal shakers at the same time? Yep, she’s here too, and guess what? She’s wearing a vest. FYI: Only bartenders that have won Bartending awards you didn’t know existed, can wear vests (surprised you didn’t know that).

As Chef Thumbrings and Bartender Vest whip Vic’s secretly-wanting-to-do-good staff into shape, Jon has bigger fish to fry. Not only is he explaining the science behind the necessary remodeling, but he needs to get to the real issue: Vic’s unwillingness to change his lazy ways. These scenes are gonna be tough, and there will be yelling. Will Vic walk out the backdoor at one point and threaten to just shut the bar down? Of course he will because that’s what weak men do. But Taffer won’t let him quit. Taffer isn’t there to make Vic feel bad about himself. Taffer is there because Vic needs to accept responsibility before he is able to truly change…and change is hard, guys.

Vic will come back the day after threatening to shut the bar down, and Taffer will make a joke. It won’t be that funny, but that’s not the point. It’ll be kinda’ sweet and Vic, for the first time in his entire life, will crack a smile. The walls Vic has spent decades building up are beginning to crumble just in time for Vic’s chef to deliver him some delicious, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA-STYLE sliders.

At this point, you’re getting hungry on your couch because those sliders look so elfin’ good and, you’re all like, “Babe, is there a delivery slider place? No? There should be. Are you sure there’s not? I know I can look it up on GrubHub, but-” BUT, you’re so excited for the final remodel reveal, and grand re-opening that you don’t have time for “Slider Delivery Near Me” internet searches. (DUH!)

When we come back from the final commercial break, and we see Vic’s face light up at the marquee outside his bar, Taffer has done his job. He’ll walk Vic and his staff through the outrageous upgrades littered throughout this once-upon-a-time dump of a bar. New barstools? Check. New background bar lighting? Check. Clean grill hood? Check. And, the kicker? Taffer bought Vic a brand new, state of the art, nacho-cheese-laddle-washer. Taffer will throw his arm around Vic, and Vic will laugh at how stupid he USED to be re:dirty laddles. If your hangover isn’t eviscerated by this act of self-deprecating laddle humor, then just jump out that window cuz it don’t get no betta’ than this.

Ladies and Gentlemen, without further ado, I would like to formally induct “Bar Rescue” into the Jimmyschair Reality TV Show Hall of Fame. (Get up and clap, assholes.)

MY WORLD:

It snowed last night and if you’re not in a bad mood today because of that, I don’t know what kind of human being you are. I would simply like to use today’s “My World” section as a warning of sorts. I will not be my best self today. Wind + cold + snow in FUGGIN APRIL! = surly Jimmy. With that in mind, if you find yourself in the unfortunate position of being in my vicinity today, please refrain from the following:

1) Joking about Chicago’s weather. It is simply not a laughing matter.

2) Touching me. Sometimes, I enjoy a gentle back pat, or shoulder graze, but I’m putting myself in a touch-free-zone today. This includes handshakes. I get it, we met; no need to touch palms to signify that.

3) Asking me if I’m going on vacation anytime soon. I’m not and that’s really none of your business anyway.

4) Smiling. Today is about pursed lips and incredulous shaking of heads. Feel free to hit me with a sarcastic smile, but I swear to God, if you punch me with a tooth-party, genuinely happy smile, we’re done. Finished forever. Capish?

5) Looking at me…

Okay, this is getting out of hand. Whenever I fully engage in Surly Jimmy mood, a snowballing situation occurs. Let’s just keep our distance…mmkay?!?! I SAID BACK UP!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Cold.

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:

Today is the last day I can build up my balance a lil bit more before The Masters, so you best believe I’m finding some action. Also! The VP of Ops has a girls trivia night or some shit, so I can actually watch sports at home without feeling guilty! Oooooo doggy! Celtics are getting 7.5 points on the road in Toronto. Both teams coming off road losses last night…so they’re both gonna be mad…that’s a lot of points. I’m expecting a close game. Gimme them Boston Bad Boys! TAKE CELTICS (+7.5) STRAIGHT TO DA BANK!

(My account currently at $21.09)

K bye.

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

OUR WORLD:

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

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

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

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

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

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

MY WORLD:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

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

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

(My account currently at $59.11)

K bye.