“Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” Takeaways

OUR WORLD:

The VP and I saw “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” on Saturday night (date night omg sahhh kewt!) and it was the brand of good that makes you want to buy a movie pass so that you can go every weekend. Now, having had a full 24 hours to digest what I saw, I’d like to go over what stuck with me. If you have yet to see this movie (I almost wrote ‘picture’ instead of ‘movie’ there in an effort to sound smarter than I am…then my brain was like, “hey, but you’re dumb.” So I went with ‘movie’.) If you have yet to see this MOVIE, then I’d skip today’s “Our World”. There will be spoilers because I want to write about the ending. In lieu of calling this a “review,” I’m opting for the much snappier “things that stuck with me even after 24 hours from Once Upon a Time in Hollywood”:

Brad Pitt is the coolest man to walk the face of the earth in my lifetime.

The first time Pitt walked on screen, the VP gasped, which was nice because it muffled my gasp. When I looked over at her, her eyes were drooling. (Crying?) No, not crying. Her eyes were panting, drooling, screaming “how is there a human alive who can look this good?!?!” She didn’t utter those exact words, but she didn’t need to, her eyes told the story. And I was with her. I, on the other hand, wanted to start crying while shaking my head and frightfully asking the universe “how? HOW GOD? HOW IS THERE SOMEONE THIS HOT AND COOL AT THE SAME TIME?!?!”

The hair. There needs to be a documentary about Brad Pitt’s hair because every time I see one of his movies, one of the first thoughts I have is “I want hair like that.” Then, I’ll probably try to style my shitty whispies like Pitt for the week following the movie, only to realize that…uh…I’m not Brad Pitt. His hair in “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” accomplishes this feat again (where’s the “make my hair look like Pitt’s”-product?) Somehow it’s blonde and long and full and, even though he’s in his mid-50s, the lack of gray doesn’t come off as fake. WHAT TYPE OF SORCERY IS AT WORK?!?!

I imagine Tarantino writing his character, Cliff Booth, and thinking “I need to write the coolest guy in any room he walks into…oh right, I’ll just think of Brad Pitt.” I’m not even 100% sure that Tarantino wrote Pitt’s character, or if Pitt just showed up and Quentin was like, “yeah, just be you.” What direction could Tarantino possibly have given Pitt in this movie? “Brad, in this scene, can you do that thing where you strut in a natural looking way and then give that smirk that lets the entire universe know that you’re the coolest person ever?”

In the scene where Pitt’s character tosses Bruce Lee into the car, if you didn’t start laughing while saying “fuck yes” then you need to go to a therapist and ask “why do I suck?”

In the scene where Pitt’s character parkour’s his way from the ground to the roof, did you think for a second that he probably, actually can do that? Maybe the reason I’m not into superhero movies is because Brad Pitt can make superhero things look natural?

In the scene where Pitt’s character tells “Squeaky” that a screen door isn’t going to stop him from seeing his old friend, did you try to think of a house with a screen door that you’ve been to? That you could return to, pissed off but projecting calm strength, to flick said screen door and tell the owner that “this isn’t going to stop me”? Yes, whoever you’re talking to will not understand what’s going on and, possibly, call the police, but just explain that you’re not trying to become Pitt’s character from “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.”

Remember when you were a kid and you’d see a superhero movie and then go home and dress like the superhero? This movie and this actor can give that same feeling to an adult. Now, where can I find some moccasin boot things and a Hawiian shirt that, somehow, someway makes me look tough?

Who’s the next super villain Tarantino’s going to avenge?

Lately, it seems that the Tarantino recipe is to go back, find the greatest villains of all-time, and create movies with endings that kill these villains in the most satisfying way imaginable. He kills Hitler in “Basterds”. He kills slave owners in “Django”. He kills the Manson family in “Hollywood”. It’s a fantastic formula, that I’m worried I’m catching onto. Like, will I instantly know what is going to happen in his next movie if it’s about another all-time villain? Whatever, still worth it.

This formula got The VP and I talking after the movie, though, about what super villain would be next for Tarantino to kill in the most satisfying way imaginable? Here’s what we came up with (and what I’ve come up with since because, honestly, The VP didn’t contribute all that much to this exercise…no offense, no offense!):

Osama Bin-Laden
ISIS
Mark David Chapman
Fidel Castro
Lee Harvey Oswald
Harvey Weinstein…wouldn’t THAT be something?!?!
Kim Jong Un

And, shit, I just remembered that The VP actually DID contribute to this exercise. In fact, she came up with the BEST one: Yoko Ono.

Is Leo the last great classic-Hollywood star?

There’s something to that Hollywood guy who has gotten too big to ever return to television, who when you see on screen you don’t think of as human, but “star”. It’s that indescribable quality that we’ve seen in Denzel Washington, Jack Nicholson, and, most recently, Leonardo DiCaprio. Whatever movie they’re in you know is going to be fantastic because THEY are in it.

Quick, try this little exercise: think of Leonardo DiCaprio and then ask yourself to write the first word down that you thought of while thinking about him. It’s “Star” isn’t it? (Actually, it’s not Jimmy, so…fuck your premise and fuck you.) It’s not that he’s the best looking person of all-time (we’ve gone over this, it’s Pitt) but it’s crackling charisma paired with an unmistakable knack to draw every eyeball in every room…ever. That was Nicholson. That was Denzel. That is Leo now.

But, who’s the next star of stars? Again, The VP and I discussed:

She said that Timothee Chalamet guy from the gay bike movie with THE PEACH and I almost drove into wall.
I said Ryan Gosling and we both groaned like “yeah, I guess..like, if we HAVE to…” then we both scrunched our faces and shook our heads at exactly the same time because WE’RE SOULMATES!!!
Miles Teller kinda’ has a chance. I guess?
Jennifer Lawrence
Michael B. Jordan but no because you can never be THE star of stars if you’re never going to be the most famous person with your name.

And the answer that we finally landed on is…that there’s no one. Now, every star is television or internet based and so it’s over. That’s it. Pack it in.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you eat like an absolute horse after working out because you’ve “earned it,” but then you go so far overboard that you start wondering whether working out is the reason you’re gaining weight.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

THIS STAND-IN FOR GAMBLING SECTION:

Still working on it. Actually, I’m going to be honest, I haven’t been working on it and then I got here and was like “shit.” So…yeah.

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.

Oscars Predictions and an Ideal Friday (3/2/2018)

MY WORLD:

Happy Friday y’all! (I can say y’all cuz the VP of Ops is from the South and I’m married to her so I get to do what she gets to do because marriage is fair and that’s fair and shut up). The excitement I feel when I wake up Friday morning is the closest I now get to the excitement of childhood Christmas morning. Instead of running down the stairs to see presents, I’m running down the clock to get to drink many many alcohols. As a functional (FUNCTIONAL!) alcoholic, weekends are when I get to introduce the public to JIMMY GOOD TIMES aka JGT. I rid myself of the crippling fear of hangovers-which has ruined weeknight drinking for me forever-and am an overall much nicer, funnier, relaxed, better looking person (the better looking part of JGT abruptly ends when I wake up Sunday morning and morph into JIMMY SWEATPANTS; an overwhelmed, disheveled manager of hangovers and Sunday scaries who ONLY wears the pair of black Jordan Brand sweatpants that he bought in high school using his parents money.)

Every Friday seems to get away from me before it even starts, though. Like, I’ll get so excited that I’ll have a beer or two at lunch (BREAKING NEWS: Jimmy Good Times is at the gas station filling up that tank!) After an afternoon of e-mails, Steve Winwood tunes and some V suave, yet subtle seated dance moves, I basically run out to my car, forget any plans that I had for the night and lose myself in a “whatever, as long as I have a beer”-mindset. Think of how your dog acts when you ask if he wants a treat, then multiply that by FIFTY HUNDRED MILLION THOUSAND!

In an effort to plan ahead like uhhhhhh an adult, I would like to set forth my ideal Friday. Now look guys, while this is ideal, I also want it to be at least potentially realistic, so it won’t include deep-tissue massages from the girl in “Peaky Blinders” or Eddie Vedder introducing me to Wrigleyville bartenders as his “inspiration”. Let’s get real, here’s my IDEAL Friday.

EARLY MORNING: I get up at 6:30 feeling like a crisp bill of fucking money. The VP of Ops takes Belle out for her morning walk (already beginning to feel unrealistic…) I put on my cool-guy gym outfit, go to my Planet Fitness (can’t hear your snide remarks in this purple judgment-free zone). Bang out a killer sweat sesh to alleviate any guilt that may try to slow down JGT later in the night. Take a shower, and go to work with hair day that deserves its own series on AMC.

MID MORNING: Get to work and am greeted with coworkers feeling awkward around me because they were just talking about how much they enjoy my social media presence (don’t feel awkward guys, I’m a regular human being person just like you). The song on the office stereo changes to “Valerie” by Steve Winwood. I barely notice how great of a job I’m doing at my desk because I’m lost in chair dancing. People pretend not to notice, but they can’t help but secretly envy my effortless rhythm in the seated position.

LUNCH: We go to Big Star for margs and tacos and sit outside cuz it’s a sunny 76 degrees and my skin tans to the perfect shade of “did you go on vacation?” I’ll eat 3 tacos cuz 4 makes my stum hurt and I don’t want to get too full to enjoy their supes refreshing margy’s. Oh, and they better salt the ever-loving shit outta’ that glass, cuz JGT is a Salt Boi 4 Lyfe! Tablemates ask why I haven’t eaten many chips, I lie to them and say “I didn’t even notice them on the table” when it’s really because I have tremendous self-control and am planning to overdose on chips tomorrow. 2 margs, 3 tacos and a solid base tan later and I’m ready to polish off the last 4 hours of this workweek (UPDATE: Jimmy Good Times has crossed state lines into Illinois! “I’m comin’ home, I’m comin’ home, tell the world cuz I’m comin’ home”-JGT)

AFTERNOON: Well worded e-mails come pouring out of my fingers with Queens of the Stone Age’s “Rated R” album playing in the background. The office is beginning to empty, but I’ll wait because I’m a hard worker…and I brought a mid-afternoon beer back to my desk to sip on. What beer you ask? Let’s go with a hoppy MONSTER that you’ve never heard of but has V cool artwork on the can (I will pour it in a glass though cuz I like to show off how I’m not chugging yet). I finish that first beer right as 4:20 strikes and I make a funny, but like cool-funny weed joke to a co-worker who wears marijuana leaf socks. After he recovers from his laughing fit, we decide that since we’re in the last 20% of people left in the office, it’s time to leave and get a beer downstairs (I work at a V hot and sexy brewery and my office is above the taproom. BRAGGY BOY!)

DUSK: Polish off a beer in the taproom and go outside just as the VP of Ops pulls up to drive us back (responsible). VPOps parallel parks perfectly and takes Belle out for her dinner-time walk, while I crack an easy drinker and place my bets for the night. I feel great about all the teams I picked, and my Bovada account shows that I’ve been hot for a while now. The VP returns, Belle leaps into my arms and we twirl like we’re the last two beings on ear—(I just love her so much). Time to meet only our most fun friendos at my fave bar, Sheffields, and Belle understands. As we leave she sits, nods and smiles at us as if to say “you two deserve this.” Thanks Belle.

NIGHT: Sheffields is playing a mix of 90s alternative (JGT’S WHEELHOUSE!) along with the occasional pop BANGER that drunk 32 year-olds aren’t embarrassed to sing along to (anything by Sia or Rihanna and I. Am. In!) We’re drinking beers and laughing. My teams are up by enough that I just glance at the TV when I feel like smiling extra big. My friends talk about how good I am at gambling. VP of Ops is paying for everything because she is “so lucky”. The bartender points to the ring on my finger so all the other girls around know I’m taken (I didn’t even notice those girls). My main cool-guy bros and I hide from our spouses so we can take lemon drop shots without being judged. JIMMY GOOD TIMES BARREL ROLLS THROUGH THE WALL!!! WHAT AN ENTRANCE!!!

It’s simple, really, but I’m a simple man with simple pleasures and a simple brain (wait…) The rest of the night would mos def include late night food at Fatso’s (real place with the best late-night burger in the game) and that final at-home drink that I don’t need, but still enjoyed. For the sake of certain readers, I will leave the rest of my ideal Friday up to your imagination…but…let’s…just…say….R. KELLY IS A BLASTIN’!

OUR WORLD:

Okay, real talk, I want to make Oscars predictions but aside from like five categories, they’re pretty boring and I haven’t seen all the movies yet. Here’s what I got:

-“3 Billboards” for Best Picture because fuck this newfound backlash, this movie is bright, shiny gold.

-Frances McDormand for Best Actress is such a slam dunk that if I were her, I’d wear an “I Won” t-shirt on the red carpet.

-Gary Oldman for Best Actor because everyone says that’s going to happen and I won’t ever watch that movie cuz it looks boring and I ain’t into dat’ shiz.

-Sam Rockwell for Best Supporting Actor because he played a character that you can’t decide whether you hate or not and when you admit that to people you get nervous because you don’t know how they’re going to react to that.

-Chris Nolan for Best Director over Guillermo Del Toro because “Dunkirk” was an absolute two hour long heart-attack and “Shape of Water” made the VP of Ops and I feel weird about lonely people and their alone time.

-Jimmy Kimmel straddles lines like an expert line straddle and nails his job. Crushes the NRA; reminds everyone that Woody Allen is King of Creep Castle and the #MeToo crew should tell their snipers “shoot to kill; pats Donny T. on his bald head, but stops before Alec Baldwin carries him off on his shoulders; and makes everyone feel moderately uncomfortable when he reminds the audience that “Moonlight” won best picture last year even though more than half of the crowd will never see it.

-Jennifer Lawrence looks great, but gets even closer to the “okay, you’re not that funny so just chill”-line. I fully expect to look at the VP of Ops at some point to and say “do we not really like her anymore?”

-Quentin Tarantino shows up and I defend him because I love his movies, but deep down definitely think he does weird stuff. DAMNIT!

-VP of Ops and I agree that JoolyAnna RanSICK was born in the “Men In Black” world and, thus, is an alien.

-John Legend and Chrissy Teigen kill the red carpet, but the VP of Ops kinda’ ruins it when she refuses to stop showing me Chrissy Teigen Instagram posts that I don’t think are as funny as she does. Look, she’s funny, but the VP of Ops treats her Instagram like it never misses the mark. Meh. It’s fine. (VPOps will 100% send me an angry text about this).

-Whoever wins Best Actress will slowly walk up to the stage and then, out of nowhere, deliver their speech totally out of breath. This happens every time and it drives me nuts. Why are you out of breath when we JUST saw you WALK up to the stage?

-Incubus, unfortunately, will not be invited to perform “Pardon Me” as the rest of the “Best Song” nominees get to perform theirs even though “Pardon Me” should probably always be nominated for “Best Song” at every award show.

-Colin Firth will be shown in the audience and I will remind VP of Ops that I will never see a movie he’s in.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT PROBABLY WON’T WIN:

I did not plan to bottom out as quickly as I did in front of an audience, but that’s exactly what has happened. Cleveland lost last night, but Lebron smiled throughout the entire game and gave high-fives to EVERY PHILADELPHIA SEVENTY-SIXER WHO HAS EVER PLAYED FOR THE TEAM AND IT MAKES ME SO ANGRY BECAUSE IT’S LIKE HE DIDN’T EVEN CARE THAT I NOW HAVE TO MAKE A DEPOSIT TO GAMBLE AGAIN! Seriously, this losing streak has gotten more than a little re-goddamn-diculous. I will make a deposit probably after beer number 4 tonight when I’m itchin’ for a little action. Tonight? Yeah, no friggin duh. I am ready to be so fucking back with Golden State (-13) over Atlanta.

(My account is currently at $0.00)

K bye.