Tag: work

“The Watcher” Review and No Carb Jail

OUR WORLD:

*There will be spoilers

Official Jimmyschair “We’re looking for a new show, what did you think of ________?”—

“The Watcher” Netflix 

What’s it about? 

It’s based on or inspired by a true story, which, spoiler alert, means that maybe something happened like this in the past, but the producers just put it in to lend immediate believability to an otherwise unbelievable story.  (Wut?) This story is about a family (omg, I love families!) that buys a house in some ritzy neighborhood, but then start getting letters in the mail from someone claiming to be “The Watcher” of the house.  This “Watcher” jabronie is mucho creepo, writing things like how this house needs young people’s blood, and knowing the names of the family’s kids, and other stuff that makes you look at your spouse with the “is this gonna be too scary for us to actually watch?”-look.  

The letters are just the tip of the iceberg (wait, there’s an iceberg?!) as the family descends into paranoia while wrestling with the budding reality that their newly purchased dream home may be (don’t say nightmare!) turning into a bad dream that wakes you up and you feel scared but you’re not sure why because WHO REMEMBERS THEIR DREAMS?!?!  You do? Cool, don’t tell anyone—nobody is interested in what you dreamt about last night.  (He’s actually right.  Shut up about your dreams.) 

What’s Good?

-The cast is incredible.  Bobby Carnivale and Naomi Watts play the two leads—husband and wife of the newly purchased bad-dream house.  Bobby Carnivale is an all-time “hey, he’s in…uh…”-guy that you like because you recognize him, and Naomi Watts is just awesome in everything she has ever been in AND I WILL HEAR NOTHING ELSE ON THE SUBJECT.  The suspects for who could be “The Watcher” are also all kinds of creepy and interesting character actors.  Think Stifler’s Mom, and Shooter McGavin, and Larry David’s brother in “Curb”, and that lady from “The Leftovers”.  You’ve seen them all, and they all specialize in different ways to make you laugh and squirm.   

-The tone.  It’s hard for a show to be: creepy, but not too scary; dark, but not humorless; and funny, but not goofy.  “The Watcher” is able to expertly toe these lines.  The writers are able to weave enough humor into the episodes that you’re not overwhelmed by the anxiety you’re feeling watching this family get terrorized.  

-The length!  It’s only 7 episodes and each episode is about 45-53 minutes long.  You’ll finish this show quicker than you really want to.

What’s BAD? (THIS PART CONTAINS SPOILERS!  IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED IT YET, SKIP TO THE NEXT SECTION AND COME BACK TO READ THIS PART ONCE YOU FINISH THE SHOW.)

–The main thing that gnawed at me from very early on in the show was that they should just sell the house IMMEDIATELY.  I wasn’t really buying the argument for them to stay.  I get it, they sunk a ton of money into purchasing this house, but when you start getting letters naming your kids and talking about how the house wants their blood and that you’ll never stop watching…I don’t know, maybe take a loss?  Is living in a not-mansion really that horrific of a prospect for these people?  “I do love our kids, but I also love living in a big house.”  Yeah, the house is sweet, but you know what else is sweet? NOT GETTING MURDERED.  Naomi Watts would use the “well, if we just cut and run, what does that teach our kids?”-argument, and to that I’d say that I’m pretty sure the kids would be all for cutting and running if that meant SAVING THEIR LIVES.  Seriously, imagine the daughter getting stabbed by The Watcher, and as she lies bleeding on the floor Naomi Watts says, “hey, but at least we didn’t run from our fears, right?!”  Call me crazy, but I’d opt for the route that doesn’t involve the possibility of my kids getting stabbed.

-The ending.  It just felt lazy.  Yes, the real-life story about this house has remained unsolved, but by episode 7 does anybody really give a shit if it’s not being totally accurate to the true story?  The writers and producers didn’t mind taking liberties throughout the rest of the series, so why stop now?  Naomi Watts and Bobby Carnivale are impossibly good looking, you think that’s what the real-life couple looked like?  You really think the true story included a private detective who delivered all of her updates like a Broadway leading lady?  Please.  We lose most grasp of this being a realistic story once we see Stifler’s mom on screen.  So, give us an ending!  My theory is that shows that have ambiguous endings like this, where “anyone could be The Watcher!  Oooooo spooky!” is the writers room just admitting that they weaved (wove? Woven?) too big of a web of suspects to come up with a satisfying ending.  Here’s a hot tip from me, your resident screenwriting SAVANT (when’s the last time you finished a script?) the key to a great ending is to give the audience what they want in a way they’d never expect it.  Think about how this show ended…is that what you wanted? 

-Bobby Carnivale’s character constantly cupping the faces of his family.  The show was creepy enough that we didn’t need Bobby C. softly caressing his kids faces every time he was trying to give them a “I’m a good dad, right?”-talk.  

-The Private Detective lady with cancer came off way too actor-y.  The accent, the clothes, the gloves, the eyebrows, the sickness.  Everything just screamed, “you can find me on Broadway!”

So, cut the shit, should I watch this show?

–Yes.  While I have some issues with the story and a few acting quirks, overall, I was supremely entertained throughout these 7 episodes.  I don’t think this show is award-worthy, but there aren’t a ton of new great options these days.  I always come back to this question: after dinner, are you excited to watch the next episode of the show you’ve been watching?  With “The Watcher” I always was.  

FINAL TAKEAWAY

Good, not great. 

MY WORLD:

I’m doing the thing where I know that I need to lose weight, but I’m not totally ready to commit to a shitty diet, so I’m compromising at the “I’ll eat healthy during the week”-stage of denial.  Can I just say? It sucks.  Lately, fewer and fewer of my clothes have been fitting properly and there’s only so long I can go with the “must be because of how much I’m lifting!”-excuse.  I am lifting (and EATING!) but I’ve also used that as an excuse to eat whatever I want, whenever I want under the guise of needing the protein!  I have discovered, to my dismay, that heavy bagels are not good sources of protein.  I know, I was surprised too.   

Is there a worse feeling than grabbing the shirt that used to big on you, putting it on, and feeling the dreaded shirt-hug?  Sometimes, I don’t love a hug.  Or, when you do the laundry and you accidentally leave that pair of pants that still “fits” in the dryer?  The dryer is the only household appliance I’ve ever fantasized about torturing.  Like, the movie “Seven”, but my Maytag in the Gwyneth Paltrow role.  (The timer knob in the box?)  I’m convinced that my dryer knows to hide that pair of pants only when I’m putting on weight.  That way, when I take them out later I’m forced to contemplate whether I’m ready to commit full-time to “I’m just bigger”-lifestyle.  And honestly, what’s holding me back is money!  I think I’d be more willing to become a dedicated Fattopotamus if someone else would shop (and pay for) new clothes for me.  In the end, I’d rather not eat bread for a few weeks than go shopping…once.

After some serious self-reflection, here are the stages of my exercise to diet:

Stage 1:  “They say lifting allows you to burn calories even when you’re not working out.  Thus, I should lift, but also eat whatever I want, wherever I want because my body will now be able to burn all of those extra calories.  If you have a hunk of meat alongside your beer and bowl of chips, that protein basically cancels out the carbs.  Protein is vital!”

Stage 2:  “Should I start incorporating cardio?”

Stage 3:  “Hmm, my stretchy-waisted pants are tighter than they used to be.  Must be because of all of the quad gains from leg day and definitely not from having dessert every night of the week now!”

Stage 4:  “Shit, I need to start incorporating cardio.  But first!  Let’s just try not eating breakfast!”

Stage 5:  “So, I’m some cardio now.” 

Stage 6:  “Out of curiosity, I just tried to put on an old pair of pants that do not have a stretchy waist.  Now, I’m going to buy rope and write one last letter.”

Stage 7:   “I know I’m bigger than I want to be, but I think my face looks like this more because of the haircut.”

Stage 8:  “Delete that picture! No, now let me see your phone!”

Stage 9:  “I’ll cut carbs during the week.”

Stage 10: “If muscle weighs more than fat, I’ll lose weight if I stop lifting, right?”

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

That Bears game last night was as much fun watching a Bears game as I’ve had in a couple years.  Yes, it’s cool we beat the brakes off the Patriots on primetime, but I was more excited that all of our most important young players had BIG games: Fields, Roquan, Brisker, Gordon, and Mooney all made big plays in this game.  

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Seeing the leaves pile up in your lawn and knowing how many frustrating hours of rounding them up are ahead of you.  Each day that passes, my anxiety rises.   

MY BABY IS SO CUTE MOMENT:

The Warden really loves when I let my hair fall onto her forehead.  She smiles huge and acts like she’s getting an award-winning massage (are there massage awards?)

MY BABY IS SO CUTE, BUT…MOMENT:

Is there anything more frustrating than trying to feed a baby who won’t take the bottle but is still desperately hungry?  HEY, BABY! I HAVE A BOTTLE AND YOU’RE STILL HUNGRY!  USE YOUR HEAD! 

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I’m piping hot on baseball and football right now.  Unfortunately, for the next couple nights there’s only basketball and hockey on.  This is when I should take a few days off.  That being said, you’re not my Dad.  Let’s bang a Dallas, OKC, Golden State ATS parlay tonight.

K, bye. 

Sour Mood Remedies and Coming Clean to my Readers

MY WORLD:

I don’t know exactly why, but I’m in a sour mood today.  As the great Fred Durst sings in your Mother’s favorite ballad “Break Stuff” by Limp Bizkit, “it’s just one of those days, feelin’ like a freight train, first one to complain, leaves with a blood stain.”  (New father, ladies and gentlemen!  So pumped he’s in charge of a newborn’s wellbeing!)  And in the process of trying to come up with something fun (Yay!) and funny (DOUBLE YAY!) to write, I found myself getting bitchier and bitchier (Unfortunately, that means you are a certified bitch.)

Now I know all of the gooey “inspirational” Instagram people tell me that the remedy to my current case of get-the-fuck-away-from-me’s is to “go outside!  Get the sun on you!” (You follow ‘Liver King’ too?) Or to focus on what I’m thankful for, or to go sweat, or go lift heavy weights (Liver King again…I’m surprised the jobless, shirtless neanderthal isn’t leading you down the path to forever happiness!) I know the right things that I should do to shake this off, but I’d like to offer a counterpoint: what about the easy things I can and will do to distract myself from wanting to lie face down on my stairs for no reason?

EUREKA!

I give you, the Official Jimmyschair Non-Gooey Remedies to Being Pissed for No Reason That I Know Won’t Really Work:

Eating while standing.

Now this is one of my favorite past-times.  When you’re bored and in a sour mood and know you should be doing something productive, you aimlessly wander over to the cabinets just “to see what’s goin’ on in there.”   You’re honestly not even sure if you’re going to eat (you are), rather it’s more of a “I wonder if things that I don’t know that I want are now magically in here?”-expedition.  You’re not hungry, but you could eat.  What?  Well, you won’t know until you go through your cabinets slowly, maybe pop a saltine or six, grab a handful of pistachios, wait, what’s behind the popcorn?  Oh, thought it might be pretzels.  Nope, not pretzels.  “Hey Babe, there aren’t pretzels behind the popcorn!”  She didn’t ask, and you don’t call her ‘Babe’, but she should know about the dearth of pretzels.  Good on you for telling her.  Husband of the year.  She should appreciate you.  Does she?  She doesn’t appreciate you enough.  Wow.  Yeah, that’s some bullshit.  BACK TO THE CABINET DAMNIT!

Hmmm, so it seems as if the stuff in the cabinet is exactly the stuff remaining from the last time you went to Costco three weeks ago.  Okay, now we know that.  Check that off your checklist of things you absolutely did not have to do.

But what about the fridge?  Yes! Surely, something different has happened in the steel box that magically makes cold air!  Let’s check that out.  At first glance, it looks as expected, but these things are tricky, so let’s move the milk because there’s no way that those kalamatta olives—yep, the kalamatta olives ARE still there and you still don’t want to eat them.  Don’t throw them out, though.  Listen, just because you haven’t eaten or used them in years(?) doesn’t mean that you should go through the 7 second effort of taking them out of the refrigerator and putting them in the trash.  EVER HEAR OF STARVING CHILDREN?!?!

Clearly, the pull-out drawers are the crown jewel of the fridge.  These are the VIP suites of Castle Fridgerino and if you’re not taking a slice of cheese to see if that’s what will make you feel better, then you might as well get the “am I even human?”-test.  As you chew the slice of swiss cheese, your eyes continue to wander as your brain realizes that the holey cheese slice is not making anything better.  Whoa! How did a pickle jar make it in the pull-out?!?! BETTER TRY ONE TO SEE IF-

REMEDY VERDICT—“ARE YOU STILL IN A BAD MOOD”: Yes, and now you’re fatter too!

Scrolling through Twitter hoping to see someone smart tweeting about how “it’s still way too early to fairly judge [insert favorite struggling sports team’s most important player] Justin Fields,” or a BREAKING NEWS tweet about “Trump is going to jail and we’ll never have to hear from him again.”

When I’m really unsure of why I’m in a douchey mood, the easiest targets for me to unload on are the people commenting on the teams that I care about the most.  The Bears are the team that I care about the most and I am so goddamn tired of watching the same movie over and over again, that I DO NOT need to hear from the POSSIBLY right section of commenters who are telling me to stop having hope.  I know that it’s POSSIBLY the same movie again, but can I at least watch it with the sliver of hope that THIS is the time that it has a happy ending?  (You’re about to turn this into a full-throated Justin Fields defense, aren’t you?) Can we reserve judgement on a 2nd year quarterback, who has played TWO GAMES in a new system with dogshit weapons around him?  (You’re doing it.) These goddamn nerds who pay the $6/month to watch the All-22 on the dopey NFL app, think of themselves as experts because they SEE ONE GODDAMN PLAY WHERE HE DOESN’T HIT AN OPEN RECEIVER! 

I’M STILL IN ON FIELDS (You did it.  Just like you did with Trubisky.  I’m sure this time it’s different, though.)

And on the second point, wouldn’t it just be grand if I ran across a tweet that said Trump was going to jail because everyone finally agreed that he’s a lying crook? 

REMEDY VERDICT—“ARE YOU STILL IN A BAD MOOD”: Yep!

Going to buy essential groceries at Costco and spending an inordinate amount of time in the liquor section thinking “could I become a tequila guy?”

How do you know you’ve become Costco-fied?  When you run out of one or two items that you got there, and think to yourself “the way that you end up saving money over the long haul, is if you get all the little things at Costco only and not spend the extra $1.40 at the local grocery store.”  You tell yourself that you CAN go to Costco and spend less than $300 because you just need a few things.  And what better day to make a QUICK Costco run than the day you’re in a bad mood for no reason? (I hear the crowds and lines at Costco are deceptively calming!)

The big thing of Dunkin Donuts coffee grinds, chicken breasts, and paper towels.  That’s all you need on this trip, and the people that can’t get in and out of Costco as quick as you are, simply put, lower life forms than you.  Jimmy, you really are the best.  Look at you, not even stopping at the TV section.  Yeah, you see how big and bright and affordable they are, but you’re not stopping because you’re here for coffee, chicken, and paper towels.  Hey, they should put a speed limit on you in here because you are—wait.

Wait wait wait. 

The liquor aisle.

Jimmy, you know you’re going to drink.  And, how much gin do you have left from your upcoming Sunday gin-a-thon 500?  I mean…if you want to save over the long haul, you can’t beat the Costco liquor prices.  So yeah, I took a slight detour down the liquor aisle because you can’t beat these prices!  And no, I don’t think buying ONLY the hugest bottles when I buy my liquor means I’m having too much.  Excuse me!  EXCUSE ME! SORRY FOR BEING FRUGLE!

Let’s just see about the gin and…wait.

Wait wait wait.

Tequila bottles are cool.  You’ve seen those George Clooney and his hot friend on their motorcycles drinking the tequila ads.  You don’t drink Tequila, do you Jimmy?  You don’t drink tequila because you once passed out on a bathroom floor after taking tequila shots during a work party when you were 21?  Well dude, you’re 37 now and it seems as if aging guys with some gray hairs—LIKE CLOONEY AND HIS HOT FRIEND!—are drinking tequila.

Next thing I know, I’ve been holding an enormous tequila bottle for six minutes thinking to myself that if I start drinking tequila instead of beer, I’ll lose weight and get to say cool things to my friends like, “I’ve actually started drinking tequila.”  Thankfully, after another 4 minutes of playing that out in my tiny, dumb brain, I’ll realize that tequila and lime will give me heartburn and then I’ll have to eat a lot of Tums and, so should I go buy Tums while I’m here?  No, cuz I’m only here for…what am I here for?

Ahhhh fuck it, when you’re in Costco you might as well make the most of it.  I’ve already got this huge cart!

REMEDY VERDICT—“ARE YOU STILL IN A BAD MOOD”: Yes, and now you’ve spent $400 on meat and seafood that will require you to completely rearrange your freezer…you’re gonna love that!

Applying to the EasyApply jobs on LinkedIn that you think you’d love, but you have no shot at.

I love my current job and that’s not just because there’s a possibility that the people I work with, including my boss, can read this!   (Is that true?  Guys? Can we verify this?) I’M LIVING IN A DREAMWORLD!

But, I have seen women in cool business jeans, who make seven-figures a year, talk about how you should always be open to new opportunities.  They say “you’d be doing yourself a disservice” by not always being open or even looking for new opportunities, and who am I to ignore that kind of advice?  In fact, until my bottom half wardrobe contains more than stretch-waisted pants and shorts, I simply cannot justify ignoring the advice of women I don’t know wearing pants that don’t include elastic.  Hey, if I was super happy in my job would I be in a bad mood for no reason?  I highly doubt that people that like their jobs find themselves in a random bad mood!

So I’ll start scanning LinkedIn to make the ladies wearing real pants proud, and I’ll look for jobs that “feed my soul.”  Unfortunately, these jobs are creative jobs that I have no real experience in, but then I remember: it’s okay to dream!  (Lotta issues here.)  What’s the worst they could say? No?  Hell, I’m more familiar with the word ‘no’ than I am with the majority of my extended family.  BRING ON THE NO’S!!!

The “Content Writer” position for a company you’ve never heard of looks good, especially when you that in parentheses it says “Home”.  I get to stay home and write content!?! DREAM JOB ALERT!  But as I scan the rest of the posting (don’t lie, your eyes went here first) you don’t see the little blue “in” box signifying that it’s an “Easy Apply” position.  Which means….ugh….you’re going to have to upload a resume and….ugh…write a cover letter.  IT’S SUCH BULLSHIT THAT A COMPANY LOOKING TO HIRE A WRITER IS REQUIRING THE APPLICANTS TO WRITE A COVER LETTER! 

Screw that, yeah, I’m a dreamer, but I also have responsibilities!  Hello? I’m a father with a lawn to poorly maintain!  So sorry, but I only have time to click the “Apply” button for a job and answer a maximum of 6 easy questions if you’re looking for me to apply for your job.

REMEDY VERDICT—“ARE YOU STILL IN A BAD MOOD”: Yes because you know that the jobs on LinkedIn “EasyApply” aren’t real jobs and are just there to suck in the lazy morons like you to spend more time on the LinkedIn site.  At least you’ve confirmed yourself a moron now!

Putting something away.

(With a headline like this, it’s incredible that some site isn’t paying you to write for them!!!)  Pacing around the house trying to reconcile this inexplicable mood always leads to seeing something, anything out of place, angrily picking it up and putting it away while muttering “unbelievable,” to yourself while simultaneously shaking your head. 

For me, typically, it’s a pair of socks that I took off the night prior while watching TV with the VP of Ops.  You see, she and I both love when I take my socks off on the couch, and then stash them between the couch cushions instead of bringing them upstairs to the laundry hamper.  Why do we love that? Because the next day, we get a “hey, those are Jimmy’s dirty socks from last night”-surprise when we sit on the couch!  It’s great because it makes both of us hate me at the same time.  If that’s not marital bonding, I don’t know what is!

Buuuuuut, that next morning when you see them, and angrily march them towards your upstairs hamper, there’s a chance that these misplaced dirty socks are the true source of my inexplicable mood.  In fact, the angrier you act towards your own laziness, the greater chance there is of exorcising these foreign morning demons.  Right?

REMEDY VERDICT—“ARE YOU STILL IN A BAD MOOD”: Yes.  Plus, since spiking your socks in your bedroom hamper, you’ve also realized that it’s time to do laundry, but the only empty hamper you have in your room is the one with the broken handle.

GODFUCKINGDAMNIT!

OUR WORLD:

I’ve been avoiding it, but I care about the nine people that read this blog too much to not come clean…I’m out on “House of the Dragon”.  (Gasp! Nobody cares.) I know what I wrote about giving it six episodes, and that I wrote that the third one actually roped me back in, but 1) I’m a liar, and 2) I guess that third episode didn’t rope me back in. 

The more I thought about that third episode, the more I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t as good as I wanted and needed it to be.  The last two Sundays, when I told the VP that there was a new “House of the Dragon” on, she gave me the “I will definitely fall asleep during it, if you put that on later”-face.  And I don’t blame her!  We gave that show more than a full feature-length movie’s worth of time to rope us in, and sorry, it didn’t! 

Ask yourself this question: if you watched a three hour movie, and at the end didn’t really like it, would you go see the sequel that was coming out the next week?  Probably not.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The new Death Cab for Cutie album, “Asphalt Meadows”, is fantastic.  Yes, I’m biased, but this album sounds like vintage Death Cab, with melancholy lyrics and tinny guitars.  I don’t know the technical term for why their guitar parts sound like they do, but the word that popped into my head was “tinny”.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The VP and I started watching the new season of “The Voice” last night.  And you know what? I really love that show.  Especially the early episodes, it’s fun to talk about who you like and why and make fun of the dumb shit Gwen Stefani is wearing.  (Isn’t this section supposed to be about hating something?) BUT! It’s hard to get into a singing competition show that has been on for 20 SEASONS and hasn’t produced one star that I can think of or remember.  I googled “Most Famous Winners of The Voice” last night and got a bunch of names and faces of people that even their parents forgot about. 

MY BABY IS SO CUTE AND I LOVE HER SO MUCH MOMENT:

The Warden doesn’t rest on my shoulder.  Instead, she claws, and grunts, and squirms while trying to climb up my chest.  She sounds like a grunty tree frog with an unquenchable thirst for the freedom beyond my shoulder.  As The Warden claws at my collar, and tries to shadow swim up my chest, I get a real kick out of faking her voice to say: “I will reach that window just past your shoulder! And I will open that window and ESCAPE TO THE FREEDOM I SO RIGHTLY DESERVE!!!”

MY BABY IS SO CUTE AND I LOVER SO MUCH, BUT…MOMENT:

Ya know, the crying sucks.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I went 2-3 in my college football picks that I gave out last week, but no, I do not wish to speak about the Nebraska moneyline pick that I was so excited to sprinkle.  I will be back ahead of this weekend’s slate of games with another 5 picks, but at least now you know what to expect with my picks.  (We do! They’re not that good and the reasoning behind them is flawed!)

K bye.

Fake Home Improvements and College Football Check-In

MY WORLD: 

I just paid $175 to have my driveway painted black and now I’m going to dress up as a raccoon and call animal control in the hopes that they’ll think I’m actually a raccoon and shoot me.  I know it’s not paint (then why did you say paint?) but whatever the Irish guys who just seal-whatevered my driveway with definitely makes no difference to the “lifespan” of my driveway.  What was gonna happen?  If I didn’t have old Irish guys dump black (don’t say paint) sealant shit on my driveway, would my driveway have just POOF disappeared?  Like, I’d come home one day and there’d just be a sinkhole to the hell I belong in because I didn’t have Maurice O’Reagan kick a bucket of black bullshit down my perfectly not-going-anywhere driveway? 

I guess it looks better black than the faded gray it was before, but I’m not even sure if that’s true of if I’m just trying to convince myself of that because of the money I spent.  And this is what it’s like to own a home in the suburbs—spending money on stuff for the sake of “I guess we have to do this?” and then convincing yourself afterwards that you weren’t taken for a ride.  What else, you ask, have I spent money on here that I’m pretty sure did nothing other than allow me to say “yeah, you’ve just gotta do that when you own a home”?  Oh, I’ve got some DOOZIES!

Reinforcing a wall

When we moved in our inspector told us that a foundational wall “might” be kinda cracking and that we “may” want to look into getting that checked out.  GEE, THANKS FOR THE SPECIFICS MR. INSPECTOR!  So I called four “Is my house gonna fall down cuz of this wall thing”-companies to come over and check if my house was going to fall down cuz of this wall thing.  Thankfully, all four of these companies had WILDLY different opinions and offers on potential remedies.  Comforting!

So, I went with the company that I had heard of the most before (the ones with the billboards?). Basically, I picked the company responsible for potentially reinforcing a wall that could lead to the rest of my house crumbling based on having seen their billboards before.  So what did I pay for?

The company whose billboards I remembered sent two guys over to drill four steel beams into the left wall of my garage.  The big screws they used to screw the beams into the wall only went in part of the way, so now these screws just stick out and all I think is “are these beams even in the wall?”  Two-plus years later I’m convinced that I paid a billboard company five figures to rest some steel beams against my garage wall (yeah, you’ve just gotta buy steel beams to rest against a wall when you own a home).

Seeding your yard.

There is no doubt in my mind that all yard seed is are pebbles that fat guys named Scott stomped on and put in a green bag.  Over the two-plus years I’ve been here now, I’ve spent hundreds of dollars on yard seed and my yard looks exactly as mediocre as it did when I moved in.  Want to know how I look and sound when going into a hardware store to buy yard seed?

“Hey,” says the walking booger in the stained t-shirt.

“Hello Booger, how may I help you today?” Responded the trim older gentleman in the bright red Ace Hardware vest

“You give bag. I give card,” slobbered the booger.

“A bag of yard seed, yes!  I think you should go with whichever one I point to because I’m a trim older gentleman wearing a red vest and you, as you well know, are a booger.  So I’m going to give you the more expensive one that is the same as all the rest, but has a nicer picture on the bag!  You like pictures, don’t you?”

“I like pitchers!”

And then I give my credit card to the cashier who proceeds to run it and spit on it before handing it back to my smiling, snot-like face.

“Thank you for bag!”

“Thank you for being a booger with a credit card!”

Getting drainage units checked yearly.

My house has a sophisticated drainage system that does need to be checked by the company that installed it once a year, but does not, unfortunately, stop my basement from being flooded like it was the first year we moved in.  Before we moved in, I noticed stains on the basement floorboards and asked if there had ever been ever flooding.  I knew there had been, but was hoping that the person who would only get paid if I bought the house would lie to me.  And guess what?  He lied to me!  YAY!!!!

Mr. “Those aren’t stains on the floorboards, those are designs!” told me all about how the basement had been dry ever since the previous owners had NASA install this drainage system.  The only drawback is that I had to have NASA, astronauts and all, come out once a year to walk around my basement, say “it’s fine” and then charge me $200.  It was cool when our basement flooded after the “It’s Fine” Astronaut gave his stamp of approval.  But not as cool as me calling and paying this guy AFTER my temporary basement lap pool incident, and thinking that it’s doing anything other than giving me the ability to tell someone that I had my drainage system checked.

There’s a block party on our block this Saturday and there’s no chance I won’t tell some guy I just met that I just had my drainage system checked. 

OUR WORLD:

I love college football and so I’m going to write about it more.  If you don’t like sports, stop reading now and please do not text me that I should stop writing about sports in this section because it’s my goddamn blog and I MAKE THE DECISIONS HERE.

The things I would do to go to a college football tailgate this weekend would horrify most of the readers of this blog (oh no, don’t horrify all 4 of them!).  Mid-September, quarter-zip weather is meant to be spent on grassy fields with a plastic cup (full of juice?!) in one hand, and a cornhole bag in the other.  College football comes back in late August, but it’s not really BACK until we’re all finally able to turn off our AC, open the windows, and argue with your wife who prefers you to keep the windows closed because “all of the bugs” come in when the windows are open.  And guys, guess what?  I had that argument with my wife a mere 3 days ago!  COLLEGE FOOTBALL IS OFFICIALLY BACK!

In honor of getting through the first three weeks of “wait, who’s good?” I’d like to go through some questions, statements, and predictions I have about the college football landscape.

First, THE QUESTIONS

How can Notre Dame be in the midst of ANOTHER season without a stud quarterback?

This is the school of Joe Montana and Touchdown Jesus, and I don’t care how long ago that was, how can their best quarterback be a guy named Tyler who throws every ball like he’s apologizing?  “Here sorry!”  Hand way up, I hate Notre Dame (Jesus knows…which is why the Bears will suck forever), but their tradition and uniforms are on the top tier of the college football world, and isn’t that what attracts high-level recruits?  It seemingly does for them on the other side of the ball, and tight ends, and o-lineman, but not quarterback?  How can a recruiting pitch that goes: “Hey Troy, we have the best offensive line in the country, a rotation of first round tight ends who can’t wait to be huge and catch everything for you, great looking uniforms, every game televised on NB-fuckin-C, and Joe Montana as an alum.  So, tell me again why you’re picking Penn State over us?” 

Or how about nabbing ANY ONE of the countless starting quarterback transfers that switched schools over the past couple years?  Hey Notre Dame fans, how would you like Caleb Williams, Quinn Ewers, Kedon Slovis, Dillon Gabriel, or Jaxson Dart look as your starting quarterback right about now?  You were SO sold on Tyler “Wait, No!” Buchner that you couldn’t beat out Pitt or Ole Miss for a top-tier QB transfer?  Cool, your defense and tight ends are good, but they’re not Georgia/Bama-WOW, and until they are, dream on about being any sort of real competitor with this rotation of forgettable quarterbacks.

Is Anthony Richardson incredible or bad?

I have no idea how you go from looking like a better Cam Newton against a well-coached Utah team one week to a worse Tyler Buchner (didn’t you already dump on this kid enough?!) against a well-coached Kentucky team the next. 

When is Clemson going to be honest with themselves about the D.J. Uiagalelei game at Notre Dame from 2 years ago?

Can we finally conclude that game was just a fluke?  He looked amazing then, and I’m also shocked that he hasn’t turned into the next surefire Top 10 QB to come out of Clemson, but we’ve seen enough now, right?  He’s the Jay Cutler of college football—there’s BIGTIME talent there, but there’s also a parade of excuses to explain away his countless mistakes.  Last year it was the o-line and receivers and him losing his confidence, but through two games this year it’s clear that not much is better.  How can you tell?  His coaches are trying to protect him with their play-calling and the analysts calling the game are talking about how he “just needs to regain his confidence.”  As a Bears fan who has spent my entire fandom unearthing excuses for poor quarterback play, I know ‘em when I see ‘em and I’m seeing these types of excuses with D.J. and Clemson.  When’s the last quarterback you saw regain lost confidence?  The great ones never lose it.

Now, THE STATEMENTS

USC has the best coach-quarterback-receiver trio in the country.

Goddamnit I hate writing this, but I bet on Stanford this past weekend because I hate USC and wanted them to lose (sound betting strategy).  They did not lose.  They were not close to losing.  Their offense had the “we’re going to score whenever we feel like it”-look.  Every receiver was wide open on every route and every pass was right on the money.  If you haven’t watched their offense, you haven’t seen the best passing attack in college football yet.  It’s terrifying.  Caleb Williams is the best quarterback in the country, Jordan Addison is the best receiver in the country, and Lincoln Riley is the best playcaller in the country.  THAT FUCKING SUCKS FOR UCLA FANS LIKE ME!!!

I don’t know if their defense is any good, but that offensive trio of coach-qb-wr will make all fanbases going against it think their best chance is “maybe we’ll just get lucky and a rogue Russian missile will hit the side of this stadium so they’ll have to cancel this game?”

Bryce Young is a fantastic college quarterback who will be a fantastic backup pro quarterback.

What does he do that’s GREAT?  He has great composure, I agree.  We’ve seen it against Auburn last year and against Texas this past weekend, where he doesn’t freak out with his team down late.  That’s a nice attribute to have, but it doesn’t make you an elite quarterback at the next level.  He’s athletic, but not electric.  His arm is good, but he doesn’t make wow throws.  He’s really small.  Like, the kind of small that has never succeeded in the NFL.  Who is his comp?  Or who’s even close?  Right now, the closest guys to his size starting in the league are Baker Mayfield and Kyler Murray, but both of those guys are thick enough to take hits.  I also think Bryce is just as short as Kyler without his body or moves.  He’s Charlie Ward 2.0 and there’s a reason Charlie won the Heisman and STILL opted to play in the NBA over the NFL.  He doesn’t just look skinny, he looks short AND skinny (hey, you’re short!)

ESPN has to do the hard thing and stop letting Lee Corso talk on the live portion of “College Gameday”.

When I was younger it was easy making fun of Corso stumble over his words because I didn’t understand the nature of ESPN’s predicament.  Their beloved gameday host had a stroke and to help boost his mindset and recovery, they allowed him back on the air with the help of some awesome co-hosts who LOVE him like family.  It’s a heartwarming story that makes me feel like a dick for the jokes I said and texted about him years prior. 

While my guilt complex grabs the sledgehammer from the garage, can we finally ask ESPN to make the hard decision and tell Lee that it’s time he stop contributing to the live portion of the show?  This sucks to write and I hate that I am (so…don’t?), but he cannot do the job anymore.  Pre-tape his segments for as long as he wants to do that, but putting him on the live show and watching him struggle like this is like watching your elderly family member get into a car you know they shouldn’t be driving anymore and telling your sister, “I’m not gonna be the one to take that away from him.”  Eventually, something really bad happens that’ll make you think “we probably should’ve taken that away from him.”

Finally, THE PREDICTIONS

Nebraska is going to beat Oklahoma this Saturday.

My Dad always told me that you never want to fight someone with nothing to lose.  When a team gets to the point where every game has the potential to determine whether their coach is fired or not, it’s already too late.  Especially in college, that type of scrutiny and resulting pressure is hard to overcome without ELITE-level talent.  Nebraska has talent, but not elite, and that’s why they buckled and Scott Frost got fired.

So now they have an interim coach who probably has no chance to retain the job long-term, and a group of players who have been given up on.  College football is awesome because cheesy storylines and motivation and passion CAN carry a group of less-talented 19 year-olds past the group of more-talented 19 year-olds.  Nebraska is a home double-digit underdog against an old rival with a shiny new coach and quarterback.  This is Nebraska’s new start and their quarterback, Casey Thompson, threw for 5 TDs against Oklahoma last year while at Texas in a game that they should have won.    Nebraska has the players to win, and nothing to lose.

USC is making the playoff and Caleb Williams is winning the Heisman.

Their toughest remaining conference games are against Utah, and UCLA.  So they’re winning the Pac-12 unless Utah goes into Utah-mode where they beat teams they’re not as talented as because Kyle Whittingham is a Top 5 coach in the country (he is).  But the three most important positions in college football are Coach, Quarterback, and Receiver and that’s why I will not be betting against them for the rest of the year.  Last year, Alabama had some holes on their roster, but they were able to make the title game because they had Nick Saban, Bryce Young, and Jameson Williams.  That’s this year’s USC team.

Caleb Williams and Jordan Addison will both be taken in the Top 15 of whichever draft they’re in, and Lincoln Riley has never had an offense short of incredible.  Pssst…Jordan Addison is the best receiver Riley has ever gotten to work with.  The only defense that could slow them down is Notre Dame in their last game of the year, but there’s no chance you’re betting on the Notre Dame team that just lost to Marshall to come up and beat the Heisman trophy winner.

Georgia is going to repeat as National Champion in a blowout title game victory.

Their defense looks just as good as last year, and their offense is better because their tight ends are terrifying and Stetson Bennett is a good college quarterback.  Although, how hard is it really to be a good college quarterback when you have nine tight ends who are 6’7”, 260lbs who run a 4.4?  (Ask Notre Dame!)

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Taking a 20 minute nap, waking up and feeling like you just got a full 8 hours.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Napping.  It’s for babies.

MY BABY IS SO CUTE AND I LOVE HER SO MUCH MOMENT:

The warden has started smiling at me and that’s a really cool moment.  Yesterday, she did it when I was pretending I was a DJ and she was the mixing board (?) the thing DJ’s use to make the wicka-wicka sounds?  You know what I’m saying.  I was the DJ and I was pretending her tummy was the record that makes the wicka-wicka sound.  Shut up, she smiled.

MY BABY IS SO CUTE AND I LOVE HER SO MUCH, BUT…MOMENT:

A couple nights ago, she wasn’t crying, but more like yelling for about two straight hours.  For the first ten minutes of her “ahhh!” I thought it was kinda’ funny and was relieved that it wasn’t rolling scream cries.  I thought “hey, she has graduated from scream cries to just hearing how her voice sounds.”  But after two straight hours of hearing the tiny human in the rocking swing yell “AHHHH!!!!” I, too, was rocking back and forth yelling “AHHHH!!!!”

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I’m going to start keeping track of my weekend picks for you because I’m feeling like I’ve been hot and I want to get the proper credit for that. If you followed my last post, you’d remember that I told you to bet the Bears over the Niners and that was SPOT ON BECAUSE I’M A GODDAMN GAMBLING GENIUS WHO NOT ENOUGH PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT. So…since NOBODY has congratulated me on that great call, I will be keeping track going forward.  This, ladies and gentlemen, can also be called “the time Jimmy jinxed the rest of his future bets”:

–Georgia (-24.5) v. South Carolina

–Nebraska (+11) v. Oklahoma

            -Sprinkle the moneyline here

–BYU (+3.5) v. Oregon

–Washington (-3.5) v. Michigan State

–UTSA (+12.5) v. Texas

K bye.

A Message to Liars and NFL Predictions

MY WORLD:

Sometimes when I get in the shower, after looking myself in the mirror, lifting my shoulders and saying “not bad”, I think that this lifting and not-dieting thing is actually working.  This logic, a fantastic discovery according to my shower-brain, draws a correlation between thinking about your diet and weight gain: the more you think about what you’re eating, the more you gain from what you’re eating.  A breakthrough, to put it mildly, in the weight-loss world.  “If I just don’t think about gaining weight, but I do think about being healthy, then I shall be healthy.”  My shower-brain is imaginative and optimistic and nice, and that’s what I want to be.  I want to be my shower-brain.

Unfortunately, my after-shower-brain, has the personality of sandpaper, and the tact of a goddamn two-by-four to the back of the head.  Now, was it my fault, that I tried putting on a t-shirt I KNEW wasn’t going to fit right after I got out of the shower and in front of my bedroom mirror?  Or, was it my shower-brain’s fault for gently whispering “it’s working, Jimmy.  All you have to do is believe!” as I rifled through the “dude, it’s been years since these fit right”-part of my shirt drawer.  I like my shower-brain, so let’s just take it easy on SB.  I believed!  I put the pink shirt on (you can’t make fun of that color anymore cuz it’s offensive so shut up, asshole) and what I thought was still my shower-brain grunted, “look in the mirror.”  Lo and behold, the tightness I was feeling around my midsection was NOT my silly imagination playing a classsssssic tummy goof on me “tehehehe, you’re not fat! Gotcha!”  No.  My mirror revealed a tire-like midsection, which caused my after-shower-brain, the one you see in italics throughout many Jimmyschair posts, to roar with the brand of mean-spirited laughter typically found in judging panels from early 2000s reality shows.  “You’re fat.  Now put on the bigger workout shirt, and leave.”  But…but! “Those khakis you wore a few months back that you’re scared to try on again?  Yeah, no chance.  Goodbye.  NEXT!”

That’s also exactly what having my student loans is like.  (Did somebody say CURVEBALL?!?!?!). Most days I don’t dwell on the fact that there’s a big number that exists solely to hurt MY feelings.  Be it on the scale or on the student loan website, which can be found by simply typing ThisWillReallyBumYouOut.com into the address bar on your web browser, there are numbers that exist to throw your shower-brain down a flight of metal-edged stairs (you just have to BELIEVE you’re going to land softly!) 

I’ve been thinking a lot about my student loans, um, always (and also about your fat midsection, tell them about that again!) but especially since news of the forgiveness plan and end of the payment pause.  A lot of people have politically-aligned opinions on this plan that, as my after-shower-brain would put it, piss me the fuck off.  Fully embracing my after-shower-brain, I’d like to address the people against student loan forgiveness.

I don’t think I’m entitled to anything.  Really.  And honestly, I have so much student loan debt that this forgiveness plan really doesn’t help me much at all.  This forgiveness plan is the equivalent of me sneezing before putting on the tiny pink shirt this morning (not tiny, just a medium) and thinking the resulting weight loss from that sneeze would help the fit of that teeny tiny baby shirt.  A medium?  My student loans shop in the “Wow, this big?” section of the Big and Tall store.

And it’s this weight that gives me the credibility to have a fucking opinion on this plan.  A credibility, that I would gleefully shed myself of if ever offered, that is lacking from most of the people I have heard, seen and read sharing their opinions.  If you’re not fat, don’t talk about how hard it is being fat!  Instead of commenting on individual facebook posts or text message chains or writing in to some stupid news opinion douche, I’d like to say here that if you have an opinion on this forgiveness plan, without having any experience carrying any student loan debt, kindly grab a sock from the bottom of your laundry hamper, push it FAR down your throat, and choke on it.

Congratulations if you went to school 50-plus years ago when tuition was eight dollars, or if you had parents who worked hard enough to earn the kind of money that disqualifies loans from your equation, or if you didn’t go to school because it was too expensive and now find yourself in a job that pays you well enough to buy a computer that gives you the ability to write “not my problem” in the Facebook comment section.  Sincerely, congratulations. 

I know that a major part of your opposition is rooted in a desire for the people benefitting from this plan (me) to acknowledge the superiority of the people not benefitting from this plan (you).  I wish I was one of you people.  You people are in a better situation than I am, and I full-heartedly admit to being jealous of you.  This is not an argument about who is better.  You are.  I admit that.  My name is honesty.  Have we met?

It appears not, unfortunately, as you continue to try sheathing this an argument behind the “well, I shouldn’t have to pay for your bad financial decision”-curtain.  Hey Oz, we all know this is just about you not getting something that me and the rest of the regretful fatsos who believed a degree would lead them to your promised land are getting.  You’re not getting something that others are, and you’re pissed.  So can you at least stop lying about why you’re pissed?  You’re not pissed about having to “foot the bill.”  You’re fucking not, liar.  This will be paid for by the federal government adding to a deficit, which you don’t understand but are pretending to online.  Eventually, could our taxes be raised slightly?  Maybe.  Or, could it be paid for by…spending 17 trillion instead of 18 trillion dollars on the defense budget?  Or, by maybe making Amazon pay more than zero dollars in taxes?  Or, by the same way we paid for the bank bailouts, airline bailouts, auto bailouts, or whateverthefuck bailouts that came before that you had ZERO opinion about?

I know you’re the kind of person that loves saying “life isn’t fair.”  So think about that for a second.  Done?  Great.  Life also evolves and we should attempt to correct mistakes unearthed over time and help people that could really use it, right?  What because you were hazed when you joined the Alpha Sigma Dickhead, every person that joins that frat for the rest of time should also have to eat shit and chug Smirnoff?  There are young adults and aging parents who have been shaken down by the higher education system for DECADES that are finally getting to catch their breath.  You’re screaming at people who are running from a burning building that is chasing them. 

These are people that would not have been able to go to school without these predatory loans with obscene interest rates that enriched college administrators while graduate students taught undergraduate classes for pennies.  When I was a graduate student at UCLA, I taught an undergraduate class.  I was totally unqualified, leaned on watching film and television clips WAY TOO MUCH, and was paid like $100 per week.  Those undergraduate students were paying upwards of $30,000 a year to take classes from a dope like me who would put on an episode of “Frasier” to eat up 30 of the 50 minute class.  These universities robbed people blind and just because you didn’t see robbery in real-time doesn’t give you the right to blame the victims for not being more aware of their surroundings.  (Pretty sure 18 year-old UCLA students probably knew you were too dumb to be teaching them, though.)

I, on the other hand, do have that right and do blame myself.  I don’t deserve this forgiveness.  I went to graduate school at 23 and took out an obscene amount of loans without properly evaluating how that would impact my life going forward.  It’s a decision that I wrestle with on a daily basis because saying you regret going to school is something nobody wants to hear.  But, I think I do regret it.  And I wish that there was more education before “my education” about what carrying loans really means for your future.  And I wish that I would’ve just read a bunch of books about screenwriting instead of being sucked into an unbelievable marketing campaign that made me believe that simply by attending UCLA, I would become a professional screenwriter.  I learned a ton in Westwood, but it’s all about hard work.  I know that now, and I should have known that then.  But I got caught up in the power of “belief” (goddamn shower-brain) and ended up docusigning myself into an adulthood of playing financial catch-up. 

The medium pink shirt is too tight for me to wear because I’ve been eating too many carbs and not doing enough cardio.  I do not deserve this student loan forgiveness, and I regret making the decision to earn an MFA from UCLA. 

Your turn.

OUR WORLD:

It’s a beautiful Friday and I just wrote a pretty angry “My World” section.  So….(awkwardly putting your hands in your pockets and rocking back in forth)…what else is going on?

The NFL starts this weekend and I have some predictions I would like to share about the upcoming season:

  • We’re all going to be annoyed having to watch Thursday Night Football on Amazon Prime.
    • The games usually suck, we know that now, so having to take the extra 9 seconds to find the Amazon app on our Smart TVs is going to really take our anger to the next level.  (How did someone so lazy ever run a marathon?  And, no, that was not a sly way of reminding people that you ran a marathon.)
    • I ran a marathon.
  • The Packers are going to win the NFC and Aaron Rodgers is going to revel in a “Going to the Super Bowl means I was right about Covid”-season.
    • He still wasn’t right about Covid, though.
  • Kyler Murray is going to win the MVP.
    • How do you get paid and somehow become more motivated than before?  Have the entire NFL world call you a lazy dummy and your lead receiver get suspended for 6 games.  I don’t know what has happened to Kyler and the Cardinals late in the season the past two years, but I kinda think it’s just flukey.  I love that he’ll be throwing to fellow former-Sooner Hollywood Brown, the Cardinals will surprise people in a weak NFC, and I think Kingsbury is…don’t say it…actually good at calling offense.  The defense will suck and the Cardinals will lose in the first round of the playoffs, but Kyler’s going off this season.
  • The Bucs will not make the playoffs.
    • This is all a bet on Tom Brady not being great this year.  I think his off-season went like this–he retired with a secret plan to get to the Dolphins.  When the Dolphins thing fell through, and Giselle then found out about the secret plan, she got pissed and left him.  Solo Tom was then alone at home and said, “well, I guess I should just go play football then.”   So he went back to the Bucs without really wanting to go back there, and now he’s a 45 year-old quarterback who only kinda’ wants to be there. 
  • The Carolina Panthers will make the playoffs.
    • Baker Mayfield is significantly better than Sam Darnold, and Christian McCaffery is the best dual-threat running back in the league.  I like the players they have on defense, and they’re in a division with Marcus Mariota, Jameis Winston, and Tom “I guess I’ll play” Brady.  Give me a pissed off Baker in a contract year.
  • This is the last year of the currently-constituted FOX pregame show
    • Terry, Howie, and Jimmy just kinda suck now and this is the year FOX finally realizes that Terry Bradshaw isn’t funny, and Michael Strahan isn’t interesting.  NFL pregame shows, in general, need a total makeover, and I think it starts after this year.  Why not copy the “College Gameday” format and do the shows from tailgates at the biggest games of the week?

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The new Steve Carell show, “The Patient”, on FX. 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

That new movie with The Rock.  We all know it’s going to suck and we need to tell every teenager who’s thinking of buying a ticket not to because it will only encourage more sucky movies being made in the future.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I actually forgot one last NFL prediction for this season….

The Bears will beat the 49ers on opening weekend.

Bears moneyline is currently +250.

K bye.

Mid-30s Partying and Best Shows of the Year

MY WORLD:

The VP of Ops and I hosted a party on Saturday, which meant that we passive aggressively fought most of Friday.  You see, as you steamroll through your thirties, the process of hosting a party goes from “FUN!” to “They’re going to say something about our baseboards!”  Parties quickly double in size due to kids and my guilt complex, and the point of said party becomes less about watching college football, drinking beer and everyone telling me how amazing my brisket is, and more about making sure kids don’t melt down, and convincing your spouse that nobody has noticed any one of the 849 home issues you’re both insecure about (Totally!  Nobody noticed the dirt patches throughout your backyard that could be solved easily if you hired someone, but you refuse because you’re cheap and claim that you’re going to take care of them, but you have no idea how to so you just keep buying whatever product the old guy at the hardware store tells you to but it doesn’t help NOT EVEN CLOSE TO HELPING and you think the next one will but it won’t and you know that but you buy it anyway because you don’t learn from your past and maybe you should hire someone oh wait, that’s right, YOU’D RATHER SPEND MONEY GAMBLING ON COLLEGE FOOTBALL THAN FIXING THE DIRT PATCHES IN YOUR BACKYARD THAT AMANDA AND MIKE ARE DEFINITELY TALKING ABOUT ON THEIR RIDE HOME FROM YOUR STUPID FUCKING “LOOK AT MY DUMB BRISKET” PARTY!!!)

It was a lovely little time!  I honestly just don’t get why I don’t remember the process of preparing for and hosting a party in your mid-thirties (mid? Pal, that 7 means LATE!) So, in an effort to avoid the pitfalls that I cannonball into EVERYTIME I host a party now, I am going to write out what to expect “before the party” and what to expect “during the party”.  I sincerely hope that this roadmap will help all of us navigate the spousal arguments better the next time around:

Before The Party

  • The VP of Ops is going to tell you that she will take care of cleaning the first floor, but that you have to clean the sunroom and bathrooms.  Is this an example of her giving you the worst two rooms to clean? Yes.  Will you say anything about that? No.  However, when you tell her that you will clean both of them after you do all of the shopping and barbecuing/smoking/cooking, she won’t believe you and will be kinda’ pissed at you the whole time she’s cleaning the rest of the first floor.
    • Tip for Next Time:  Clearly, cleaning the sunroom and bathrooms right away would be a quick way to avoid any sort of conflict.  BUUUUUUUUT, since you don’t want to do that because it’s boring and un poco grosso, buy her flowers when you go shopping for all of the food.  Those flowers will buy you at least 4 hours AND if she does actually lash out and get mad, you can point to those because she didn’t get you a present AND THIS IS ALL ABOUT RACKING UP POINTS!!!
  • Your idea of everyone’s kids just taking care of themselves so you can watch football is…um…impossibly stupid.  You and your friends will not be gathered around the television high-fiving about UCLA beating a Bowling Green in front of 8 people at The Rose Bowl (yeah dude, nobody in Illinois cares about UCLA, and even the 8 people in LA that do know that they’re not going anywhere this year or…ever.  But yeah, buy some more expensive Jordan-brand team gear!)  You’ll have the game on when people arrive, but then quickly realize that sitting and watching it will be perceived as rude and lazy (if the shoe fits!)  What you all will be doing is watching each other’s kids in between drink-chugging beers and realizing that what matters to you most now is being your friend’s kids’ favorite uncle.  Is it a competition?  You bet your fucking ass it is.
    • Tip for Next Time:  Pick the 4-hour timeframe to be during a group of games that you don’t really care about because you’re not going to see a snap.  Then, to get ahead in the “which Dad do all of the kids like the most?”-competition, you’re going to need to bring 3 things: 1) Energy 2) Sugar 3) Weird voices.  The plan for next time is to have secret candy giveaways, and while Tootsie Pops have been my typical go-to, lets switch it up and go with little York peppermint patties.  Why?  Because they’re awesome and unique enough that kids may start remembering you as the “Peppermint Patty Daddy” which is a SIIIIIIICK nickname that you’re not pushing, but maybe someone should? (This is a thing of yours, huh?  Just forcing nicknames?  How about “Chubby”?). Finally, you’re gonna need to debut a weird voice for the kids because this deep one you’ve been using is STALE.  So practice the offensive Italian accent thing that you’ve broken out once or twice before.  You’re gonna need more than just yelling for the kids to make you “aaaaaspaghetti and a spicy meatball!”
  • You’re going to attempt to make some food dish in an effort to impress people and distract them from the fact that you have dirt patches in your backyard and you could pay to have fixed but don’t beca—I’ll stop.  And you’re going to feel compelled to invite more people than you should because the worst thing that can happen to you, in life, is for people to see a picture on IG (just write Instagram, loser) and then make some comment to you, like “oh, guess my invite got lost in the mail.”  What this will mean is that you should make much more than you’re originally planning to, but you’re going to push against that because you’re kinda’ cheap and don’t want to spend more money.  When The VP of Ops smartly asks, “are you sure we’re going to have enough food?” your instinctually going to want to roll your eyes and say something douchey like, “it’s not our job to feed their entire extended families too!”  But that’s where you’re wrong.  You see, because of your crippling fear of IG-fueled guilt (JUST WRITE INSTAGRAM INSTEAD OF ‘IG’!  NOBODY CALLS IT ‘IG’) you ARE going to invite too many people.  You are then going to stress about not having enough food for these people right before the party and take that stress out on your dog by yelling “ENOUGH GODDAMNIT!” when she barks like she always does when the Amazon person knocks on the door after dropping the package that The VP of Ops secretly ordered.
    • Tip for Next Time:  Dude, don’t invite that many people.  The stress is not worth it!  THE STRESS IS NOT WORTH IT!  Just be an adult and deal with the guilt of possibly making some people feel left out the way you deal with most things in your life…drinking.  Hey! It’s a party!  Also, these parties now are more about food than they are booze, and people are WAY more inclined to bring booze over because it takes less effort.  So, being the cheapass that you are, buy more food and less booze.  You won’t have to stress out about not having enough food AND it’s kind of a cool move to be able to send people home with Tupperware containers of the incredible food you just made (Hey, you’re not Bobby Flay.  You made a fine brisket on a dumpy smoker.  It was fine.  Cool it.)

During The Party

  • The VP of Ops is going to get just as much praise for the dish that took her 24 minutes to make as you’re going to get for the dish that took you 37 hours to make.  Then you’re going to make incessant references about how annoying it is to try to repair the dirt patches in your backyard, which will bore the ever-living-fuck out of whoever you’re talking to.  Trust me, they’re not thinking to themselves, “I wish Jimmy would talk MORE about these shitty dirt patches in his yard.”  You’ll pour your first BIG BOY IPA in your fancy beer glass because “hey, it’s a party and this is how I like to start my parties.” But then you’ll start to feel bad that you can’t offer every guy a fancy glass for their beer EVENTHOUGH NONE OF THEM CARE AT ALL ABOUT DRINKING BEER OUT OF YOUR FRUITY STEM GLASS.  College football games will be happening and you will not be watching because that’s rude.  Then you’ll check your phone 2 beers in, see that you’ve lost your first batch of bets, and start scrambling to make more bets just to “get back to even.”
    • Tip for Next Time:  Make sure that everyone knows that The VP of Ops didn’t spend as much time making her dish as you did yours.  Will this piss her off? Yeah, but whatever.  Enough is enough, and credit should be given ONLY TO THOSE THAT HAVE EARNED IT!  This does have the potential to spark a little bit of a fight, BUT little comments like, “how long’d you nuke that in the microwave for?” paired with HARD laughter and playful elbows to her ribs is the type of comedy that you cannot pass up.
  • As the “party” rounds into form, you’re going to get a bit insecure about the total lack of kids toys that you have in your house.  So, you’re going to grasp at straws and offer the older kids at the party basically anything you think would entertain them.  Unfortunately, the half-deflated old football and TY stuffed animal that’s NOT a beanie baby, are going to provide about the same enjoyment from them as you get out of eating celery (it’s like eating stringy water.). The kids will then start trying to treat your ratty old dog toys like they’re kids toys, and their parents will pretend they’re not disgusted/horrified.
    • Tip for Next Time:  How about a surprise “presents time” for the kids there?  Not only will the kids be pumped about it, but it will distract the parents from their whisper-level discussion about “those patches in Jimmy’s backyard.”  OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT WHEN YOU LOOK AT A PATCH, THEN BACK TO ME, THEN INTO YOUR WIFE’S EAR!  WHAT ELSE COULD IT BE ABOUT?!?!?!  Go to The Dollar Store (don’t forget, he’s cheap!) and get all the kids a bunch of little stuff, that you wrap up (and bonus present will be if Jimmy wraps it, it’ll look like shit!)  Make sure they all get one of the same thing, so there are no baby street fights where all of a sudden the kid who didn’t get the squirt gun starts to melt down and HOW DID THAT BABY GET A KNIFE?!?!  Next time, let’s have a designated “presents time” to really double down on this effort to become the favorite uncle. 
  • Towards the end of the party, you’re going to grasp for the last chance at a buzz.  You’ll think about mentioning a “nightcap” but then you’ll know that the one wife who already thinks you drink too much is now CERTAIN of it.  So, you’ll restrain yourself (like Gandhi!) and venture into the “beers don’t count because they’re not hard alcohol”-zone.  But you’re not drinking lites, are you?  Of course you’re not.  At this point, you’re digging into the bottom of the cooler for the last of the Double IPAs that you know are down there somewhere.  Unfortunately, the “beers don’t count because they’re not hard alcohol”-zone also means that you will not be reaching another fun buzz-zone.  Instead, you will just be getting fatter, while being basically the same amount of drunk, and making your impending hangover that much worse.  You’ll know this, yet still refuse to mix in a seltzer because that could POTENTIALLY negatively impact the buzz you’re seeking.
    • Tip for Next Time:  Just get a grip, man.

OUR WORLD:

“House of the Dragon” is barely back.  Sunday night’s episode was good enough to keep me interested for next week’s, but I implore all of us (dramatic) to not lower our bars so much as to think of that past episode as awesome.  It was pretty good, but not awesome.  The first two were so insufferably boring that this one did feel like an entirely different show because it had…drumroll….DRAGONS DOING DRAGON THINGS!!! Who woulda thunk it?!?!  It’s cool to see dragons doing dragon things!!! But listen, this show simply isn’t good enough to justify me writing about it EVERY week (oh? And it’s not just because your fat ass is worn out from writing that unnecessarily long My World? Got it!)  This episode was cool, and I’m still in, BUT…Guys, Damon was shot with 5 arrows, dying on the ground and then all of a sudden went into Sprint-Mode-5000 to chop in half the toughest crabman the world has ever seen?  Heh?!  AND…How is any army at this time losing if they’re the side WITH THE GODDAMN FIRE-BREATHING DRAGONS?!?!  If the battle isn’t going well just fly that thing over and POOF!  Burnt! 

“General, we’re losing ground to our opponent.  What strategy adjustment would you suggest?”

“Maybe we could fly that enormous, indestructible fire-breathing dragon over their side?  Cuz like, planes and missiles haven’t been invented yet, and they can only shoot their dumb little arrows so high.  So just, have the fire-breathing dragon fly higher than their little arrows and light all of them on fire.”

Real quick, if you are looking for shows that were worthy of me writing about them every week (but you didn’t because you weren’t watching them during your paternity leave and you were too lazy to write and do your job at the same time?) these are my current “Best Shows of the Year” rankings:

  1. Black Bird:  This is the best show of the year, so far, and the lead guy in it is so attractive that maybe I shouldn’t be married to a girl?
  2. The Bear:  A half-hour show that works great as a dramedy and is as authentic of a Chicago show as I’ve seen. 
  3. Severance:  Really imaginative concept where you cannot predict what will happen next.  It’s a bit on the slow side, but each episode is better than the last.  If you hate your job, this will make you hate it more. 
  4. We Own This City:  Jon Bernthal has officially entered the land of “if that guy’s in it, I’m gonna watch it.” 
  5. The Staircase:  Incredibly well-done, and I guess I’m glad I finished it, but there are scenes of a woman falling down a staircase (not a spoiler) that are so realistic and awful, that I hated watching it at times.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When the weather turns, and the temperature gets low enough to where you can finally turn off your AC and open your windows. 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When the weather turns, and the temperature gets low enough to where you can finally turn off your AC and open your windows, but your wife thinks house burglars have zeroed in on your house so you have to close all of the windows at night and keep blasting the expensive AC even though it’s colder outside than it is inside.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

I actually broke even this week on college football!!! I’d like to thank Clemson and Georgia for beating up on Georgia Tech and Oregon like they were supposed to.  And I would like to offer a hearty “Go to Hell” to LSU’s kicker.  I know you’re waiting with baited breath on what my first NFL slate of the year will look like, and that will come soon but…as a teaser….I’m loving the Bears and the points against the “Why are we sure Trey Lance is good?”-Niners.

K bye.

Dragon House Snoozefest & How To Smoke a Brisket JIMMYSTYLE

OUR WORLD:

I know that I’m supposed to wait another day-plus because I originally titled this segment the “48 Hours Later Without Looking Stuff Up on Google”-review, but last night’s episode of “House of the Dragon” was so mind-numbingly slow that I am renaming THIS edition of the segment, “Be More Boring, I Dare You!” 

We all watched that last disappointing season of “Game of Thrones” waiting for stuff to pay off so that we could text our friends things like, “THAT is why we watch this show!”  But when that payoff didn’t come, our collective anger was directed at the writers of the show, (you don’t know their names, do you?  Don’t Google!  NOT ALLOWED TO GOOGLE OR THE SEGMENT IS FOREVER COMPROMISED!) Darren Scott and Lamar Trundleson (not even close).  We all read online about how Darren and Lamar (doubling down on stupid, welcome to Jimmyschair!) had been hired to write the next Star Wars movie, and so they were rushing the end of “Game of Thrones” so they could get to do that.  And for us, that wouldn’t stand!  How dare the two guys who wrote the majority of a series we loved try to parlay that success into getting to helm the most renowned movie franchise of all-time!  After that last episode?  NOT ON OUR WATCH!  So we all got online mad, vilified Darren and Lamar to the point that they got fired from that Star Wars job, and then deified George RR Martin—author of the Game of Thrones book series.  “The series went downhill once RR Martin’s influence waned!” we all chanted from our dumpy bedrooms in our smelly mesh shorts (dude, you’ve had them since freshman year college.  Go spend $17 at Costco for a new pair.)

This chorus for the return of more RR Martin influence reached a crescendo, shortly thereafter, when HBO announced they were making “House of the Dragon” based off his book “Fire & Blood” and that he would be listed as Executive Produce and Creator. (You clearly googled to get that information.  No, we saw you go into the bathroom with your phone and then come out and write that.  CHANGE THE SEGMENT TO “JIMMY GOOGLES IN THE BATHROOM AND THEN PRETENDS HE DOESN’T SO HIS READERS THINK HE’S SMARTER THAN HE IS!”)  So we ignored that this was basically RR Martin’s role on “Game of Thrones” and went about our business forgetting that the last season of GOT uh….sucked…and got ourselves pumped up for “House of the Dragon” by pretending that RR Martin’s involvement was what was missing.

What we all SHOULD have done is ask, “if RR Martin was so great, why didn’t he come up with the idea to make it a show?  And once that idea was brought TO HIM (it was), why didn’t he write the first episode (he didn’t).”  Martin had a deal with the original writers of “Game of Thrones” (you forgot to Google that, didn’t you?) Darren Scott and Lamar Trundleson (yep) that he would write ONE episode of the show per season.  And guess what?  By Season 5, HE COULDN’T EVEN DO THAT!  George RR Martin wrote 4 episodes of “Game of Thrones”.  The series had 73 total episodes (HE’S GOOGLING AGAIN!)

All that information (that you googled and lied about doing so) was conveniently forgotten in the fallout of the “Game of Thrones” final season, and the subsequent build-up to “House of the Dragon”.  I did the same!  I got myself excited about this series because I loved GOT so much, and SORELY missed an event show on Sunday nights (When does Succession come back?) “The Dragon show is gonna be good cuz um, dragons, and it’s based on the book by the guy, and I think the guy is more involved in this one, and um, remember the red wedding?!” was basically how I sold this show to myself in my head (you talk to yourself?)  And now we’re two episodes in, and I’m realizing what I did, what we all did, was go buy a Rolex online…and now we’ve got a “Rolecks” watch that gives your wrist a rash.

I know we all don’t want to give up on this Dragon House show, but we should.  (You said you were giving it 6 episodes!  Does your wife know about all of your lies?!?!)  I know I said I’d give it 6 episodes before throwing in the towel, but I’m making an amendment: for each sucky episode that I do watch, subtract from the number of episodes that I vow to watch.  (That was worded horribly and everybody hates you now and will never read this again.)  Last night’s episode sucked.  Thus, I am now down to 5 total episodes I am committing to watch.  If next week’s episode sucks, I will be down to 4 total episodes, and so on. 

Dragon House is excruciatingly boring in a way that seems damn near impossible considering this is a show ABOUT FIRE-BREATHING FLYING DRAGONS!  We are now two episodes in, more than a full movie-length into this series, and the coolest thing we’ve seen the dragons do is…uh…No, let’s seriously answer that question.  We are 120 minutes into this series, and the coolest thing we’ve seen a dragon do is fly to an almost fight, and sit nearby the standoff until the two sides agree not to fight and to return to where they came from.  That is not an exaggeration.  This is like if you watched “Jurassic Park” and the coolest thing you saw the T-Rex do THE ENTIRE MOVIE was sneeze (he’d sure need a big Kleenex lololololololol).  Much like last week, yes, my main critique is that you have a show about dragons that barely features dragons.

“But Jimmy, they’re building up the anticipation!  Remember, the wait will be worth the reward!” you say?  Well first off, stop yelling at me, The Warden is asleep.  Second, I don’t think the payoff CAN be worth this wait because there is no one in the show that we like yet.  Hey guys, THAT’S A BIG PROBLEMO!  When you’re 120 minutes into a story and there isn’t one character that you’re excited to root for when they show up on screen, that is what we in the business call a GRANDE PROBLEMO!  A payoff worth this wait requires villains to root against and heroes to root for, and I don’t think we really have either yet.  Let’s go through some of the hero suspects:

  • The King: He’s a suburban dad caught in dragon-times who is sad about having killed his wife for a chance to save his son…but then his son also died.  So now he has nominated his daughter to be heir, but he doesn’t seem especially pumped about that.  Oh yeah, and he definitely wants to bang his teenage daughter’s best friend (American Beauty much?)  Plus, we all know he’s going to die because he has infected cuts that maggots can’t cure (shocking!) 
    • “Root-ability” Rating: 3.2
  • Rhaenyra Daughter Girl:  I know we’re supposed to like her, but can she earn that first?  In GOT we loved Arya because she was a total badass.  What has this girl done besides ride a dragon that we already knew liked white-haired girls because we saw that in Game of Thrones already?!?!?
    • “Root-ability” Rating: 3.9
  • The warrior guy who Rhaenyra liked because he has battle experience: Bad sign that we don’t know his name.  Cole something? (Just google it, you’ve already been caught in that lie.)  I do think this is the character I like the most right now because he belittled Daemon in front of everyone by reminding him that he pounded him in their battle.  But…yeah, I don’t even know his name.
    • “Root-ability” Rating: 4.4

How about the villain suspects you ask?

  • Daemon:  Clearly the writers on this show want you to hate this guy, but do you yet?  It’s strange because every time he’s on screen I instinctively know I’m supposed to hate him, but I don’t know why I do.  Yes, he has a hate-able looking face, so that’s a great start.  But, can he do something super awful first?  Remember how much you hated the little boy Prince early on in GOT?  He got the wolf killed!  Can Daemon kill a wolf that we all love before we anoint him as a super villain.  He hasn’t earned it yet.  What he has done is act cocky in a battle tournament, kill a bunch of people that we didn’t know or care about in some random battle scene in the first episode, and…uh…be pissy that Rhaenyra was named heir instead of him.
    • “Hate-ability” Rating: 5.2
  • Father guy who is trying to pimp out his 12 year-old daughter to the king:  Don’t know this guy’s name, but we all know him as the guy with white dreadlocks who’s trying to pimp out his 12 year old daughter to the King.  And while that is most definitely a “hey, not cool, man!”-move, the fact that this is in olden times makes me think it’s not really that messed up.  (Jimmy thinks it’s cool for old men to wed 12 year-olds.  He just put that in writing.) I’m not saying I think it’s cool for old men to wed 12 year-olds, but they did do awful shit like that in olden times.  So, Dreadlock Dad Pimp is kinda, just doing what Dreadlock Daddy’s did back then.
    • “Hate-ability” Rating: 4.1
  • The King’s Hand:  We think he’s on the good guys’ team because he’s the King’s hand, but he looks like a weasel and is mean to his daughter who-BY THE WAY-he is also trying to pimp out to the King!  See!  Just another run-of-the-mill Dad Pimp!
    • “Hate-ability” Rating: 3.6

With no real heroes and no real villains, what possibly payoff is even plausible?  What scene could happen that makes us all forget that the first 120 minutes of this show has included no memorable scenes or characters?  You see, the longer this bore-a-thon goes, the better the payoff scene has to be, and at this point, it already would have to be an electric shock of a scene. 

The only hope I see is this crab guy we caught a glimpse of at the end.  The scenes with the crabs were creepy, and that guy does look pretty terrifying in that mask.  Could he turn into something we all band together in rooting against?  Possibly.  Unfortunately, creating the type of vitriolic hate we would need for a proper payoff moment, would require the writers of this show doing something they have yet to prove capable of: writing an interesting scene.

MY WORLD: 

I’m going to smoke a brisket on Saturday and I’d like to tell you how I’m going to by giving you my steps and recipe for how to do it, and what to expect the rest of your day to look like while doing it.  The ingredients, tools and process-notes you’ll need for the first JIMMYSCHAIR SMOKED BRISKET RECIPE!!!

Ingredients:

  • 12-15lb brisket.  I like to get it from Costco because they’re priced the best (just say ‘cheapest’) and they taste just as good as the expensive ones I’ve gotten from the local butcher (so you don’t support local business.)
  • Yellow Mustard.  Have about a half of a squeeze bottle or just stop being a cheapass and buy a new bottle for this.  Jesus.
  • Kosher Salt.  A lot.
  • Apple juice.
  • Coarse black pepper. Also, a lot.  (Love the precise measurements.)

Tools:

  • Smoker. (How dumb do you think your readers are?)  I use a big offset charcoal smoker.  I use it because I want to pretend I’m an authentic traegers-are-for-clowns-smoker-guy AND because I don’t want to spend what it would cost for a green egg (I’ll take “Cheap white guy things” for $400 please!)
  • Charcoal and Wood chunks.  How much? Uh, like a lot.  I prefer the lump charcoal because it appears more authentic (sound reasoning) and big wood chunks because they burn longer.  What flavor of wood?  I honestly don’t think this really matters so I just go with my heart whenever I’m in the store the day of. 
  • Butcher paper.  This is key and it’s not the easiest to find.  Last time I did a brisket I just asked the butcher at my local grocery store if he had any butcher paper he could spare.  He did, so I used that.  And you are correct, I did just take free butcher paper.
  • A portable cooler.  You know, like the ones you bring to a tailgate.
  • A digital meat thermometer.  One that’ll give you internal and external readings.  Wireless is best so you can sit on your fatass inside for a little while your brisket gets oooooohhhhh sooooo sweatyyyyyy (good lord that was creepy.)
  • An empty spray bottle
  • A towel. (You have to shower with your brisket?!?!)

The Process:

  • Get up at 5:30 AM.  This is serious work and serious work requires an early morning.  Plus, when you’re telling people about your day, it’s going to really impress them if you get started before 6 (they’ll be even more impressed if you’re slurring your speech while telling them all of this).  Get up quietly because this early morning alone time is going to be SO CHOICE.  Make a huge pot of coffee and be really dramatic about how good the coffee grinds smell.  Like, yeah, open the container and smell them and say something like, “ahhhhhhh.”
  • Slather your big, stinky brisket in yellow mustard.  Put some vinyl gloves on for this, otherwise it feels ICKY and Jimmy NO LIKEY ICKY FEELYS (is there a video somewhere of you getting punched? We’d love to see it!)
  • Dump generous amounts of kosher salt and coarse black pepper all over every part of this brisket.  Make sure to get the sides too.  You’re not going to put too much salt or pepper on it.  Do I know this? No, but it’s what I tell myself.  The best part of the brisket is the bark, and you’re not going to have flavorful bark without a dump truck worth of salt and pepper.  (How have you not opened up your own bbq restaurant yet?!?!)
  • Bring a Yeti full of coffee out to your grill area in back.  Hopefully, you can wear a hoodie because hoodie morning weather makes every man about 18% happier.  Have a podcast going.  Look up to the sky, smile and gently shake your head because “God, just doesn’t deserve someone like me.”  Scream at your dog to be quiet.  Chuckle it off when you see your next-door neighbor is outside and just heard you gritted-teeth growl “shut the fuck up!” at your cute dog. 
  • Get your smoker to a stable 225 degrees.  This part is always the part I have a really hard time with, and it takes longer than you want it to.  This is the part that can derail your day.  Put a helmet on, get ready for fucking battle.  Aim low on the temperature.  It’s much easier to get a smoker hotter, than it is to cool it down.  The first time I did this, I got mine up to 300+ degrees and it took like A GODDAMN YEAR to get it back down to 225-250.
  • Before you put your brisket on the actual smoker, make sure your basement fridge is stocked.  Listen here buddy, you’re drinking today.  So go down, and take a look at what you’ve got.  Get yourself excited.  Put on a Huey Lewis song and plan out what time you’re going to crack the first one.  I suggest a lite beer around 10am.  Then think about the afternoon IPAs.  Blow a kiss at your alcohols and tell them that you’ll see them soon. 
  • Get that brisket on the smoker.  You need to get the internal temperature of your brisket to 165 degrees before you take it out and wrap it in butcher paper.  So, put the brisket on fat side up (so the fat drips down or whatever) and plan on about 8ish hours here to get it to 165.
  • Check the time and get kinda pissed that it’s not 10AM yet.  Wonder what to do for the next hour-plus.  Try sitting and enjoying the weather in your backyard.  Stare off into the distance.  Wonder why you don’t have a better job.  Think about the money you wasted on grad school.  Start to hate yourself.  Go inside to eat carbs.
  • Eat carbs.
  • Oh thank god, it’s 10am.  Dive down your basement stairs because it’s faster than running and get a Lite beer out of the fridge.
  • The “I wonder what’s in Jimmy’s red plastic cup at 10:01 AM”-plan is keeping everyone in the dark, so you go outside.   Get the spray bottle and spray your nastyboy piece o’ meat with apple juice (the brisket, right?)  Do this about every hour.  You don’t have to drench it, but this will help keep it moist while also helping…I don’t know bind the bark or something.  Look, I heard this is what you do, so just fucking do it.
  • Go back inside to see that your wife has changed the TV from ‘College Gameday’ on ESPN to some episode of “The Mindy Kaling Show”.  Don’t get mad.  Don’t! 
  • Start to get mad, go to the bathroom, look at yourself in the mirror and say, “Don’t let her know you’re mad because that will start a fight that will last all day.”  Go back outside, and when she asks, “oh, want me to change it back?” Say, “No thanks, it’s so nice out!”
  • Stew.
  • Get more drinks.
  • Once the internal temperature gets to 165, wrap it in butcher paper, and put it back on the smoker (still at 225-250).  You’ll keep it on here until the internal temperature gets to 203 degrees.  Yes, that’s a magic number that has relevance but I don’t remember why so, again, just fucking do it.
  • Think back to how you didn’t get to see Lee Corso put the mascot head on at the end of “College Gameday” because your wife had to watch the Mindy Kaling episode where the guy doesn’t like her that much AGAIN.
  • Stew.
  • When your brisket finally hits that 203 degree internal temperature, take the wrapped brisket off the smoker.  Keeping it wrapped in the butcher paper, now you need to wrap it in a big fluffy towel.  Use your wife’s favorite, softest towel because this brisket is the new love of your life that would never change the channel off College Gameday before Lee Corse put the mascot head on.
  • Wonder which mascot head Lee Corse put on earlier.
  • Wrap the brisket in wife’s favorite towel.
  • Say “no” when your wife asks if you used her towel to wrap the brisket.
  • Now sloppily wrapped in your wife’s amazing favorite towel, place the brisket in the portable cooler where you’ll leave it OVERNIGHT!!!  Yeah, this makes a huge difference—this resting time makes the bark SO much better.
  • Stop drinking.
  • Get another beer.
  • Respond to your wife with only one-word answers.
  • Go to bed.  Don’t say anything about the College Gameday thing.
  • Get back up.  Get another beer.
  • Google “can I watch a replay of College Gameday if I didn’t record it?”
  • Fall asleep on the couch 8 minutes after promising your wife you’d be upstairs in just a few minutes.
  • Wake up hungover on the couch in the clothes you fell asleep in.
  • Your brisket is ready. Eat it.
  • Whatever.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The random weekday rain during the summer giving you the perfect excuse to stay inside and be fat and lazy all day.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Shaving. 

JIMMY GAMBLES:

College football actually starts this THURSDAY!  Last Saturday doesn’t count because it was a weird Ireland game that I couldn’t even gamble on and then a bunch of other bad games.   So, for Thursday’s games, gimme West Virginia (+7.5) at Pitt, Purdue (+3.5) hosting Penn State, and Oklahoma State (-21.5) hosting Central Michigan.  These have no chance!

K bye.

House of the Dragon Review & A Gassy Preview

MY WORLD:

The more I look into my one-month-old daughter’s eyes, the more I catch myself exhaling, looking up to the sky while gently shaking my bulbous head, only to return to her innocent gaze and say, “Dude, are you fucking kidding me?”  She’s not, though.  She’s not kidding because she doesn’t know how to kid, yet.  The Warden IS NOT kidding, she’s just there…like a lump.  This big eyed, lumpy Prison Dictator bats her eyes at me because that’s just what her body does, yet I’m supposed to wax poetic about it every time a stranger or older person or some random gooey parent who wears big, flowy shirts asks me how being a new Dad is.  I’m a good enough writer to tell them the things that will trigger their tear ducts, but I’d rather (do anything else in the world?) tell them about the aspects of early parenting that are PRACTICALLY and TANGIBLY AWESOME. 

The Farting.

We’re not reinventing the wheel here, folks.  When your little baby starts ripping audible farts, it’s not only funny, but it opens up your world of fart comedy (yes, we’ve all felt confined in our fart comedy worlds). 

The other night, as I sadly went to bed before I was drunker than I wanted to be (when’s the candlelight vigil for your buzz?) I exacted the only revenge I’m able to exact on The Warden, by putting her down in what has to be a very uncomfortable bassinet.  You see, it’s kind of the only way I can get her back at her for terrorizing my ability to sleep.  “Oh, so you’re going to get me so tired that I can’t even get a proper buzz?  Well, hope you like sleeping on this paper-thin pad resting on WICKER!” 

As I snickered at her inability to secure a more comfortable sleeping situation, I scrolled Twitter because that’s what you do when you’re INSANELY tired, not buzzed enough, and need sleep.  The VP was doing face stuff in the bathroom (putting on war paint?) and we weren’t talking because it’s the time of day where stories are over.  Nothing is interesting.  Nothing is exciting.  Everything sounds like the static you get when your TV’s signal goes off and you don’t know where the remote is and why has the volume gone up to level one trillion and we’re staying calm, we’re all staying calm because this is nobody’s fault, BUT WHO STOLE AND HID THE FUCKING REMOTE?!?!

What I’m trying to say is, we were ready to go to sleep.  But then…The Warden farted so violently, that there was no possible way to stop ourselves from laughing hysterically.  This fart should have a Vegas residency, that’s how funny it was!  This fart, made us forget how tired we were, how disappointed I was in not being to stay up long enough to secure a proper buzz, how deeply annoyed The VP as to be with my insistence that we not use a pacifier because “then whenever it falls out of her mouth, she just freaks out again”.  (Isn’t a break in the freak out symphony better than no-break in the freak out symphony? WHY IS A CONSTANT FREAKOUT BETTER THAN ONE WITH BREAKS?!?!)

The Warden’s fart healed us.

In our laughter, we are one.

You can eat whatever you want, whenever you want.

New parents enter a judgement-free zone (like Planet Fitness!) that protects them from questions like, “aren’t those chocolate chips meant for baking cookies and not you eating them straight out of the bag at 3:07 PM on a Tuesday?” Or, “isn’t the idea of those low-calorie ice cream bars to substitute your full-on dessert and not act as a dessert appetizer?”  Or, “are you sure that tortilla chips are considered ‘good carbs’ because they’re made from corn?”

Who doesn’t like a fat Dad? (You.  You see yourself getting fatter and hate your-) NOBODY!  EVERYONE LIKES A FAT DAD. 

What’s next?

Parental Leave.

Not working is sweet.  Do I need to explain this? (You wrote it, dude.  At least TRY to make it interesting?)

Taking care of a small human cry-machine isn’t a tropical vacation, but let me offer you this “would you rather?”-scenario:

Would you rather get a call from your boss asking you about some work thing that you’ve put off because it sucks/you hate it

-OR-

Would you rather deal with your Warden scream-crying a mere 19 minutes after drinking a full bottle? 

You take the screamer because you can put the screamer in a rocking swing and say, “just gotta let her cry it out,” and sound like a seasoned parent when saying that.  Try ignoring your boss and telling your spouse that you’re “just gonna let her call it out,” and eventually you’ll be lying to your Dad that you were laid off because of “complicated company stock stuff” when you were actually fired for “ignoring your boss.”

OUR WORLD:

Since today is the day of “this may be a recurring segment on Jimmyschair if I…uh…feel like it later,” let’s start another one in this section, entitled “48 Hours Later Without Looking Stuff Up on Google”-Review.  Why the no looking stuff up on Google thing, you ask? (We didn’t, you just feel the need to justify your laziness).  Because when you’re having a conversation with someone and talking about whether you loved or hated a show/character/storyline, etc. you’re going to remember the aspects that MATTER.  Think of it as a test for these shows or movies.  If something is great, we’re going to remember it 48 hours later without having to go to Google and type “Wait, what was that thing I liked in the show I watched the other night?” (You sure you want the title to be that short?  Why not “48 Hours Later Without Looking Stuff Up on Google While Your Kid Scream Cries in the Background and You Pray That ‘Crying It Out’ is a ”-Review?)

For my first “48 Hours Later Without Looking Stuff Up on Google”-Review, let’s talk about HBO’s first episode of “House of the Dragon”.  If you’re worried about spoilers or a review that leaves you wanting more, yeah, stop reading (lowering expectations really is your go-to, isn’t it?)

“Game of Thrones”, especially in the early seasons, was so intoxicatingly good that it’s fair to compare the early episodes of it’s first spinoff series to the original.  I remember watching the pilot episode for “Game of Thrones,” and sharing a “holy shit, did you see that?” look with my then roommates after the INTRODUCTION.  That’s what I was looking for with this pilot episode.  And you know what? I wanted it within the first five minutes because that’s what “Game of Thrones” did and that’s what almost all  good new shows have to do now.  There’s so much goddamn content out there, that if a show doesn’t shove you up against a wall and scream “LOVE ME!” within the first five minutes, you’re going back to the streaming well. 

48 hours later, I don’t remember the opening of this episode.  (See a doctor?)

What I do remember is a horrifically graphic pregnancy scene that I hate watched through my fingers.  Is that really the kind of scene we need in the first episode of the most widely anticipated series debut of the past few years?  That’s the kind of scene that belongs in the middle of season two, when the show has given you enough “holy shit, did you see that?!”-scenes, that you allow it to torture you with the occasional “holy shit, I wish I never saw that!”-scene.  “House of the Dragon” gave us a scene I wish I could forget as THE climactic scene in the series debut.

I also thought that the two male leads were lacking gravitas.  Sean Bean was the male lead in the original, and is the kind of actor, with the kind of jawline and cool weathered face that you bought him as a legitimate warrior.  These two actors who I couldn’t pick out of a lineup, playing the white-haired leads were about as memorable as the first time I ate a cracker.  “I guess I liked it.  I have had crackers since…”  I can’t remember seeing them in anything else, they both lack any sort of on-screen charisma that makes me excited to see what they’ll do next, and I didn’t really buy that they were the ones leading soldiers during a time period where soldiers were so scary barbaric, I’m pretty sure I’m not the same species as them.  (Correct Jimmy, they were ‘men’ and you are a human who wears floral colored crocs in public).

Isn’t it also confusing that the young girl who is now being groomed to take over the Iron Throne definitely looks EXACTLY like a younger version of the last main girl in “Game of Thrones”?  What was her name?  Pretty dragon-riding girl who slept with Drago?  Danerius? (No chance you spelled that right.)  You know who I’m talking about, and this girl looks like a younger her, and does things the younger her would’ve done, but…guess what….it’s not her!  So, that’s not confusing at all. 

And the dragons.  What about the dragons?!?!  The fucking show is about their house and the coolest thing we see them do in the first episode is cremate a dead mom and her dead newborn?  Who drew that up? 

“Hello ‘House of the Dragon’ writing team.  What do you plan to have the dragons do in the first episode?”—HBO Executive

“We were thinking we could show a team of people hold a screaming woman down while a ‘doctor’ kills her by cutting open her stomach and ripping out her kid who, also dies, but like, a little later.”—House of the Dragon Writer

“Uh, what about the dragons, though?”

“Yeah, we’ll have one of them blow fire on them at the funeral.”

“On who?”

“The dead Mom and baby.”

“But, they’re already dead.”

And that is precisely the moment the writers should have looked at each other and said, “maybe the coolest thing we have our dragons do, in the first ever episode of our show called ‘House of the Dragon’, is not act as a match at a cremation ceremony.”

We’re all going to stick with this show for a while (we are?) because we are in this together and “Game of Thrones” was an incredible series, and so they’ve earned at least us watching 6 episodes of their first spinoff.  But maybe next episode, we could get a dragon dunking a basketball?  SOMETHING?!?!

LETS ALL LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

It’s my favorite time of the year for beer because it’s OKTOBERFEST (Octoberfest?) season!!! Now, there are a billion at the store, but here are some Jimmyschair tips and recos for what to do with these (he’s a professional, folks! Well…was. Wait, yeah, didn’t you quit your job in beer? Yeah, you did! So now you’re just a…drunk!)

Tip: Buy a bunch of them now and let them hang in your beer fridge, or if you don’t have room it’s not the end of the world if these sit at room temp. These kinds of beers will last a good 3-4 months minimum (some, you can stretch to 6) AND their quality doesn’t totally hinge on them being kept cold the whole time. Now, if you can keep beer cold, do it. But, if you’re stuck on space then don’t worry about having these chill in the corner of your basement.

Recos:

-Paulaner “Fest Bier”–they’re “marzen” is good too, but I prefer the one that says “Fest Bier”

-New Glarus “Staghorn”–you can only get this in Wisconsin. If you’re near, it’s worth the drive and do it soon because these usually sell out FAST.

-Half Acre “Lagertown”–best brewery in Chicago and it’s the founder’s favorite beer they make. Convinced yet?

-Sam Adams “Octoberfest”–I’m not even sure I love this beer, but my Dad does so that counts for a bunch of beer points.

-Sierra Nevada “Oktoberfest”–They used to switch up this beer every year where they’d brew it with another VERY OLD German brewery. Now? I’m honestly not sure what they’re doing, but Sierra is a beast and doesn’t miss on this style.

LETS ALL HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

People over 60 who post political memes on Facebook. Hey, Rey, we all know which side of the aisle you’re on and NOBODY wants to join you.

JIMMY GAMBLES:

The PGA Tour championship is this weekend and there’s a staggered scoring system.  What does that mean? That the longer shots you pick, have an even LESS likelihood of breaking through.  (Does that mean you’re finally going to just pick the people you think are ACTUALLY going to win the tournament?) BUT LETS PICK SOME LONGSHOTS ANYWAY!!!  Feed my fat butt Tony Finau, Cameron Young, and Jon Rahm.  (*Disclaimer: Jimmy has not won a golf bet in so long that he literally cannot even remember the last time he did win one.  He keeps saying he enjoys betting on the sport, though, because his guys have been close a few times and ‘close’ to a losers like Jimmy act as reasons to keep picking the same way every single time).

K bye.

I’m Still Married!

OUR WORLD:

How many more times are people going to write the “Exercise is the Best Distraction!” article during quarantine?  We get it, working out is good for you.  Yet these writers and trainers and celebrities wearing sports bras and cool jogging pants, can’t wait to share this “discovery” with anyone who has a pulse.  You might as well write an article entitled “Shooting Yourself in the Head Does Not Increase Life Expectancy”.

I do hope that this HISTORICALLY SIZED ordeal leads to a more empathetic and compassionate society, but…can we not turn into dopes who nod at every BLATANTLY OBVIOUS suggestion thrown our way?  If the only people outside of our family that we’re directly interacting with are Peloton trainers named Hannah, I’m worried we’ll all become amateur motivational speakers who confuse ambiguous platitudes with wisdom.  Yes, I checked dictionary.com to make sure I was using ‘platitudes’ correctly and that’s exactly the kind of unfiltered honesty we need right now!  That’s why you’re here!  That’s why I’m here!  THAT’S WHY WE’RE IN THIS RIDE TOGETHER NOT ALLOWING OUR INNERSELVES TO TELL US TO STOP RIDI–Wait.  Did you…Did I…Jesus Christ you guys, I’m starting to talk like Peloton Hannah.

Yes, exercise is the best distraction right now.  I’m not arguing that because I agree with it and because I bought an exercise bike and the Peloton app and I really wanted to tell you that.  BUT! How about some real-life, salt of the earth, HONEST other “best” distractions? Remember, the point is to distract your brain for the sake of your mental health.  Let’s bend the rules a bit, and prioritize honesty, shall we?

GETTING IN ARGUMENTS ABOUT SOMETHING SMALL AND BRINGING IN PAST DISAGREEMENTS AND OTHER UNRELATED ISSUES TO MAKE IT BIGGER

(Right when I started to write this section, I took WAY too big of a bite of a banana and now I’m thinking that mondo-sized banana bites are a top-tier corona distraction…PUSH PAST THIS, JIMMY!  DIG DEEP!)

Allow me to paint a picture:  You’re cooking dinner for your sweet, sugar baby on a Tuesday night.  Seasoning raw chicken with your bare hands is gross but you do it because you love your cutie pie, sugar baby.  Cutting vegetables you aren’t even excited about eating with a purple knife that isn’t sharp enough.  Talking yourself out of adding potatoes to round the dish out because you’ve eaten 6.7 pounds of pretzel rods over the last 36 hours.  “All I really want is chicken and vegetables,” is ALWAYS a lie, but it’ll make you both feel superior to the rest of the world for one meal, so that’s the plan.

Midway through prep, cleaning while you cook so the love of your entire life doesn’t have to lift a finger even afterwards, you notice an old paper grocery bag has reappeared…next to your newly purchased $100 garbage can.  You’ve seen this arrangement before, but she vowed to retire it once you agreed to the $100 stainless steel trash can purchase.

“Sweetheart?  What is this?”

“What is what babe?”

(Now with a hint of an edge) “This,” you say as you remain “calm”, but point.

She lets out an audible sigh (aka the couple fight’s starting whistle) and heads over to the kitchen.  When she arrives to see her HUNK of a husband standing in place while pointing at a paper bag on the ground, she knows what he’s pointing at, but MUST ask once again.

(With a distinctly annoyed tone) “What?”

This is where the fight begins and GOOD GOD is it a delicious distraction!  As you smack your lips in anticipation, remember NOT TO HOLD BACK!  NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO SLOW DOWN! (Peloton Hannah would be so proud!)  Nope!  Bring up the thousands of makeshift “grocery bag garbage cans” you’ve had to clean up in all of the years you’ve been together.  Make special mention of how now that you live in the suburbs, you can’t simply throw an open bag into a dumpster, before reminding her of the SOLEMN OATH that she took the day you agreed to put your CC # in the space below the ONE HUNDRED GODDAMN DOLLAR GARBAGE CAN SHE PICKED OUT ON LOWES.COM!

Was it an honest, no-big-deal mistake on her part?  A thoughtless, harmless error?  Uh, that doesn’t fucking matter, guys.  We’re trying to preserve our mental health by engaging in “distractions.”  So dig in, embrace your initial testosterone fueled reaction, and say something grand, like, “It’s fine, I’ve just resigned myself to having to pick up random trash bags wherever you feel like setting one up FOR THE REST OF MY GODDAMN LIFE!”

This is when she’ll be sure to point out that you are overreacting.  (Thanks Sherlock!)  And, like she’s reading the line from a script that never had a chance of being bought, she drops a “calm down” like the sledge-hammer those two words are.

Your move Jack!

“Oh, calm like you?  Like how you were the first time you met my ex?  Okay, yeah, I’ll be calm like you!”

And boom, enjoy the next few hours of not having every thought in your brain begin with, “wait, when was the last time I washed my hands?”

ROAD RAGE

If you haven’t been on the highways during quarantine, you are missing an opportunity to fear for your life from something other than THE INVISIBLE ENEMY.  Nope, on these roads the enemy is very visible, in the form of a 2009 Nissan Altima with tinted windows that just swerved in front of you going 97MPH in a driving rain.  THIS IS WHAT WE TRAIN FOR!!!!

Normally, the move would be to throw that invisible frisbee through the roof of your car and blurt out a panicked “Jesus!” before calming down by talking to yourself about how there should be an IQ test to get your license.  But not now.  This ain’t normal times!  Now, you should speed up a little.  Maybe even a lot, while laying on the horn.  Widen your eyes, open your capillaries and allow the rage to coarse through your entire body.

Do you have a gun?  Wave it!

Now, because it’s an Altima, you’re not going to want to pull even with it.  Let’s be real, Nelson and his Tinted Windowed Nissan ALSO has a gun.  But, he’s not going to be able to shoot you if you stay behind him.  So that’s all you have to do.  Get close enough to where this piece of human waste for driving faster than he should, can see you doing the Macarena with a pistol in his rearview.  THAT’LL TEACH HIM!

On the off off off chance that a cop pulls you over, just explain to him that you were looking for a worthy enough distraction to preserve your mental health, and Nelson’s Nissan was the exact tonic you were searching for!  If that doesn’t work (which it most certainly will not) well then you’re fucked and will probably be brought into the Police station.  But, if you’re charged with whatever people are charged with for waving firearms while driving, at least you’ll have something other than your last meal to talk about on your next Zoom call.

ZOOMING IN ON EVERY PICTURE TEXTED TO YOU TO FIND, AND CALL OUT ANY IMPERFECTIONS

In this one group chat I’m in, any time someone sends a picture, the rest of us zoom in on every other part of the picture that’s not THE FOCUS of what the sender intended.  Picture of their kid holding up a book?  We’re all frantically zooming around the rest of the frame looking for something…anything…that doesn’t look the way that it should—GOT IT!

“What’s with this?” is sent right below a zoomed in screen shot of a beer can in the upper right corner of said picture.  This will be followed by a barrage of hyper-critical texts along the lines of: “Wow, drinking already?” “Does your wife know you’re drinking?” “How many is that?” “When’s the last day you didn’t have 9 beers?” “Mix in a water!”

Before Dad of The Year knows it, his innocent baby picture has turned into a shame fest, devolving from sarcastic jabs, to pleas to change the subject, to finally, a legitimately angry “I’m not drinking!”

It’s never not fun.

  

MY WORLD:

Three years ago today, I got married to the VP of Ops.  To commemorate our 3rd anniversary on a blog that brings in zero dollars and has caused a few tiffs (wait, you’re seriously mad that I wrote about how you wear the same black shirt like 3 days a week?  Oh…yeah, slam the door! REAL MATURE!!!)  I’m going to write about what I remember about our first date: on May 3, 2013.

            It was a cold, dark night.  A baby’s cry in the distance.  A beggars cup rattled in between the hurried footsteps of guilt-ridden businessmen playing deaf.  “What a world we live in,” I grumbled as I lit up a cigarette under a dim moonlight.  Wait.  Shit, sorry.  Wrong night.  That’s right, the night before our first date I was probably about to get smashed on 9 IPAs or something, when my roommate, Mike, asked if I wanted to go to a concert with him, his new girlfriend, and HER roommate.

“She a girl, right?” I slurred.  Upon confirmation that “she a girl,” I quickly accepted the offer in my head, but had to do the thing where I acted like I had to think about it for a second.  I did this by looking up and saying “uhhh….”  (ACTING!)  Actually, turns out that I was the 2nd choice for this date.  My other roommate, a whiny little bitch of a human, who I’ve made cry multiple times in fights, called “Daaaaaaaave” , was asked before I was and turned down the offer.  (Years later, Dave loves to remind me of this and how I basically owe my marriage to him.  In response, I bring this up to the VP and she reminds me how much better looking I am than Dave.  So, now that’s in writing.)    

Anyway, upon accepting, I asked for a scouting report on the roommate from Mike, he said “she’s super fun, really cute, but I won’t lie, she’s kinda boy crazy.”  I’ve told The VP this and she gets mad every time.  She assures me that she wasn’t “boy crazy” (is “boy crazy” the delicate way of saying “slutty”?  We’ll never know!)  Instead, she reams Mike out and talks about how she would “like go on dates, but I wasn’t boy CRAZY.”  Who do I believe?  What do I believe?  I don’t know, who cares? Honestly, the “boy crazy” thing didn’t really faze me.  I was too busy looking through her pictures on Facebook and trying not to say things like “she’s too hot for me”-out loud.  Because, that was the thing, my confidence was still a minor issue back then (back then? Jimmy, you asked Erin how you looked yesterday after meeting a middle-aged neighbor for the first time.  It still ain’t great!) but seeing a bunch of hot girl pictures from her college sorority days definitely rattled my nerves.  I wanted to ask Mike if he thought I was pretty enough for her, but Mike and I were in the beginning stages of our friendship so…I COULDN’T LET HIM KNOW THAT I WAS AN INSECURE BABY YET EITHER!!!

The 24 hours leading up to the date consisted of me going for a long run because I used to be able to do that without stopping after 13 minutes to use my “bad ankle” as an excuse.  (“No, it’s not the fact that I drink too much and enjoy dessert every night, it’s this damn ankle!”)  After the run, I did what back then was about the bravest thing I could do…I decided to wear the J.Crew hoodie that was a little too small on me.  I’ve always SUCKED at buying clothes, which means that I normally only have one “hey, is he a cool guy?”-outfit available.  This J.Crew hoodie (that my mom probably bought for me years prior) hadn’t gotten much wear because it was the “is this guy in good enough shape to wear something this fitting?”-size.  But this hot-girl-date-night called for me to at least pretend like I could pull off this snug hoodie.  Looking back, I pulled that hoodie OFF!  (Allow me a few seconds to be sad about how much worse looking I’ve gotten in the years since…Hey!  Looks aren’t everyth—goddamnit, yes they are.  They are.  They’re everything, and I have none of them and…I have nothing.  I am empty.)

The plan was for Mike and I to go to the girls’ apartment in Lakeview, have enough drinks for me to feel not paralyzed by “Excuse me girl, am I hot enough?”-thoughts and then go to a concert at The Metro (cool person music venue by Wrigley Field that I had never been to before, but I definitely didn’t admit that, that night.  I’m sure I said something along the lines of “Metro?  Love the Metro!”)  As we walked into their garden-level unit, I did that acting thing again where I pretended like I didn’t need to guzzle rubbing alcohol to feel comfortable.  The VP was still getting ready, so I had time to settle on what pose I should be in when she entered the living room.  The VP’s roommate, Amanda, put on some music and gave Mike and I NOT NEARLY ENOUGH BOOZE!  Mike and I waited in the living room with Amanda, which meant that Mike and his new girlfriend, Amanda, made eyes at each other while paying enough fake attention to me to temper the bubbling awkwardness.

Finally, after what must have been more than 4 MINUTES, The VP entered the living room with a spin.  I’m not joking, she walked in, waved and before introducing herself, she just spun around.  It was so fucking cool.  As I scrambled to say something interesting after introducing my DUMB self, the song “Mirrors” by Justin Timberlake came on.  Mike and Amanda were being all gooey with each other across the room, leaving all the pressure in the world on me to say something at least MILDLY entertaining.  (Has anyone mentioned your tiny sweatshirt yet?) 

“You know, I don’t care what anyone thinks, this song fucking rules.”  That was the first sentence I said to my now-wife.  And she FRIGGIN’ LOVED IT!  Honestly, I could tell in real-time that she thought, “whoa, this guy is secure enough to say that he loves a Justin Timberlake song on a first date.”  Two things on that: 1) I wasn’t, but 2) You have to remember that back in 2013, Justin Timberlake wasn’t super cool yet.  He was still “that boy band guy,” so it wasn’t the coolest thing for a guy to freely admit that he was into “that boy band guy.”  My gamble paid off.  Now, she thought I was secure enough to be with her “I know I’m fine as hell”-ass, AND she thought I was funny because who says that out of nowhere?  THIS GUY DOES!

From there, the drinks were a flowin’!  JIMMY IN HIS EL-E-MENT BABAYYYYY!  (So, your element is drinking?  Cool, I bet her Mom is so happy she found you!)  By the time we walked over to the Metro, I couldn’t have cared less about who we were going to see.  I was going to talk to The VP through the whole show and not give A CARE what was going on on-stage. Seriously, Jon Lenon could’ve been resurrected for a one-night only Beatles reunion show that night, and I wouldn’t have taken an iPhone pic.  Now, it didn’t help that the band we were seeing was called “Purity Ring”—a band that neither The VP nor myself had ever heard of.  What did that mean?  You guessed it, WE ‘GON BE TALKIN’ THROUGH THE ENTIRE SHOW!!!! Yeah, legit fans of “Purity Ring” were about to HATE us…and they did.

Midway through the song about being pure or wearing rings or whatever, I got “shushed” by a (do I say what I really thought?  Even though it’ll make me sound like a meathe–) dude who looked even wimpier than me in my tiny J.Crew hoodie.  So you bet your ass your ass I responded to his “shush” with a hearty “go fuck yourself!”  Yeah, I did!  Listen, if you’re not drooling at the opportunity to show a girl who’s WAY hotter than you that you’re tough, as early as possible, I don’t know what to tell ya!  Trust me, I did the whole sensitive guy thing throughout high school and you know how many dates that got me?  ZERO!  ZERO DATES!

From there, I reveled in being public enemy number one at this show.  Now, if this were a Metallica show, would I have been so excited to be hated by everyone around me?  Absolutely not.  In fact, I would have been quite scared…maybe even cried.  But this wasn’t a Metallica show.  This was a “Purity Ring” show, a band that’s following primarily worked as freelance graphic designers who can’t wait to talk about their “disgust with consumerism” at every family gathering.  It was the perfect setting for a fake tough guy (Me) to act tough. And while The VP will say that she hated it and hates tough guys and likes sensitive guys and blah blah blah.  She loved it.  I could tell, she loved that I told that guy to “go fuck himself.”  She was impressed in that way you get when you’re uncomfortable but thrilled that you’re not next to the “shusher.”

When the show ended, The VP and I realized that we hadn’t listened to one song throughout the entire set (like I said, we were the worst people in that concert.  Hand up, we were “those people.”)  We met up with Mike and Amanda, and decided to all take a picture together.  This is my favorite picture ever.  I remember looking at it the next day and thinking “I actually pulled off the tiny hoodie!  And…I think I really, really like this girl.”

VP, I love you enough to act tough when I’m really not; to dress cool when I really can’t; and to…care for a psychopath dog that I bought for you to get out of momentarily “forgetting” your birthday ONE TIME!  (I didn’t REALLY forget it and that’s final and I will go to the Supreme Court to prove my innocence!)  

Honestly, I’m looking forward to my first suburban tiff with a guy I think I can take, because no feeling is better than the one I get impressing you.

Happy Anniversary.  I love you.

IMG_5778

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This song still kicks LIKE A MULE!

 

K, bye.

I Sat Next to an NBA Superstar Yesterday and You Have to Believe Me

MY WORLD:

I sat next to James Harden at lunch yesterday.  Now, the reaction to that from the text message I sent to my friend groupchat, should have been “whoa, cool!”  Or, “no way dude, he’s so good at basketball!”  Or, “he has a big beard!”  Or, I don’t know, why couldn’t ONE FRIEND write something like, “hey Jimmy, even though it was blind luck that you ended up sitting next to the NBA MVP Runner-up, you should treat this as an accomplishment in your life, feel better about yourself, and expect to receive praise from others when you tell them of this accomplishment.”  WOULD THAT HAVE BEEN SO FUCKING HARD?!?!   But instead, all I got was “pic or it didn’t happen.”

So there I was, a 34 year old adult, contemplating how I could take a spycam picture of a 29 year old guy I’ve never spoken to before.  The situation went from exciting to terrifying immediately, and I basically stopped talking to the person I was actually having lunch with because I was so caught up in my brain about what I should do.  Some of the thoughts that went through my essentially useless brain, included:

-Do I ask for a selife?  Go up to him, say something like “huge NBA fan here, James!  Love watching you play!  Mind if I get a pic?”  

Yeah, that would’ve been a cool thing for me to do except uh…no it fucking wouldn’t have been.  I’m not a selfie guy.  I’m the guy who makes fun of people who take selfies!  THAT’S MY ENTIRE IDENTITY!!!  Although, yeah, I would ask to take a selfie with someone who actually IS a hero of mine (cough…Eddie Vedder…or someone who knew Chris Farley…cough) But then I started thinking of how big of a lie, that would be.

Okay, so I’m meeting James Harden for the first time and the first two things I tell him are FLAGRANT lies.  1)  I am not a huge NBA fan.  I like it, but I don’t really care about the NBA until football is over…and even then, all I think about is how “I miss football.”  2)  I actually hate watching James Harden play basketball.  If I was being totally honest with him (and isn’t honsesty ALWAYS the way to go?) I’d say “James!  Whenever I see the Rockets are playing, I loudly exhale and text my friends something I’m only half-joking about, like how I’d rather cannonball into an active volcano than watch you travel on every play before bitching to the refs that you were breathed on too hard.”  Wild guess here, but I don’t think he’d be excited about posing for a selfie with my fat face (you went to the gym yesterday, Jimmy.  Did you tell them yet?) after hearing that.

-I should pretend to be texting on my phone, while slowly rotating my chair to the right-where James is sitting-while I really have my camera up so that once I get him in frame, BOOM!  PIC TAKEN!

Clearly, I am not one of those people who have mastered the spycam technique.  (It’s because you’re a scared baby).  It’s not because I’m scared (it is, though) I just think that the risk of getting caught outweighs the reward.  So…shit, yeah I’m scared (my Dad just called asking for blood sample.  Something about “no son of his-“)  Can we think, for just a second, about what would happen if I DID actually get caught trying to take a spycam pic of James Harden?

The bartender had already told me “don’t be weird about it” when the guy I was having lunch with asked if that was, in fact, James Harden.  It was weird because I didn’t ask the question, but she looked directly at ME and said “don’t be weird about it.”  Of course, I calmly, quickly replied with a, “too late,” that drew some laughs but…like, it was too late.  I was caught in between staring and doing the “I”m not staring, I’m just drift-looking at the ceiling above your head James Harden”-thing.  Yeah, weird was accomplished.  So if after that, she caught the camera on my phone screen, there is a decent chance that she would have gently grabbed my arm, clenched her jaw and uttered a furious, “I fucking said not to be weird!”  Then, I’m the PROVEN weird guy who has to be touched to be believed.  She would probably be thinking “I have to touch this person to make sure that I’m not hallucinating that I’m witnessing an adult being THIS weird.”

And what if James Harden caught me?  (Can’t call him just ‘James’ because we’re not close enough friends) With how petty NBA players are, and how ready they are to air their shit on Twitter, is out COMPLETELY out of the realm of possibility that he would take my picture in retaliation only to post it on his Twitter with the caption “Chicago Creepo”?  Guys, that’s fucking possible and you know it.  YOU KNOW IT GODDAMN WELL!

Next thing I know, people are printing kitchy, graphic t-shirts featuring the pic Harden took of me on them with his caption underneath.  Then I’m walking down the street with The VP of Ops and people are whispering while staring at me.  So the VP curiously asks, “why are people looking at you and whispering?”  I pretend not to hear the question and just keep walking, until some girl starts laughing as she approaches me pointing and saying “you!  You’re the Chicago Creepo!”  Then I’m trying to explain that the reason a girl called me “The Chicago Creepo” is because I got caught taking a spycam pic of James Harden, but she won’t believe that.  No, she’ll go straight to “a girl pointed him out, so that must mean he was taking spycam pics of girls.”  So we’ll end up getting divorced, and any date I have with any girl after will be a terrifying “I hope she hasn’t seen that James Harden pic of me” experience.

-I could tell the bartender to buy James Harden a beer and tell him that it’s from me.  

So, I’m trying to pick up James Harden in a bar now?  Either two things could happen here: 1)  He could accept the beer, raise it for a “cheers” from down the bar and carry on with his lunch.  2)  He could decline the beer, in which case the bartender would then return it to me–but I didn’t want to drink during the day on a Tuesday, so now I’m just sitting at lunch with this beer/”James Harden rejection trophy.”  He’ll look over a few times to see what certified bozo-the-clown sent a Tuesday afternoon beer over to a professional athlete and I’ll catch him with a half-smile in an effort to convey “I’m not a weird guy.”  He won’t smile back, though.  Instead, he’ll look to the guy he’s actually having lunch with and say something like, “keep an eye on that dude for me.”

In the end, I convinced myself that doing nothing was the only option.  So I sat at lunch, pretended to listen to the guy I was having lunch with, and made the executive decision that proving I sat next to James Harden wasn’t worth risking my marriage/dignity/future.  BUT I FRIGGIN’ SWEAR HE WAS RIGHT NEXT TO ME WEARING A BIG HAT AND BIG FLANNEL SHIRT AND LOOKING FLYYYYYYY!!!!

OUR WORLD:

Continuing the theme from today’s “My World”, I’d like to educate my fellow early-to-mid 30s people on, aside from taking a spycam pic of James Harden, what other things you are no longer allowed to do.  Of course, if you’re one of those “I don’t believe in the word ‘can’t'”-people, then this section will read as a challenge.  But maybe, even those people can take a break from their life of posting inspirational quotes over their crossfit videos and actually contemplate whether “can’t” is something that they should incorporate.

-You can’t wear sweatpants in public anymore.

The sweatpants-wearing public has been fooled by the tapered (?) cuffed (?) bottoms of new sweatpants into thinking that those make it acceptable to go outside wearing them.  Yes, this was a “Seinfeld” bit 20 years ago, but the emergence of Lululemon (and imposters for those of us poors) has caused a confusion that has led to a sweatpants-in-public resurgence.  It’s like when you work out a lot and then think you can eat whatever you want.  Next thing you know, you’re too sluggish from all the chips to go to the gym anymore and you’ve put on 14 pounds.  Just because the hot mannequin guy is pulling it off in the store window, doesn’t mean that you and your puffy beer face can.

-You can’t go to music festivals and post non-funny videos of yourself there.

Was I the only one seeing people my age post Instagram stories of themselves wearing basketball jerseys and neon whatever while at Lollapalooza this past weekend?  They’re cringeworthy, and even though I hadn’t spoken to these people in years, I felt like contacting them just to see “is everything okay?”  Now, I’m not judging if you actually went–that distinction must be drawn.  There are bands at music festivals that we are still allowed to love (oh thank god Jimmy told me I don’t have to give up music!)  So you can go, yeah.  But while there, if you find the need to send any sort of video of the band on stage, or you in the crowd, you better be damn sure that it’s a funny video.  Because if that video says something like “all the feels” or is just of you doing some sway-dance moves that your drunk brain thinks are “actually pretty cool,” then you become THAT person to EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE.  One “look at me at this music festival” Instagram video after the age of 30 will cause: banks to never give you a loan; friends not to trust you alone with their spouses; and your parents to drink more.

-You can’t have dirty dishes in your sink when guests are over.

This one is deeply personal and, frankly, really fucking stinks.  Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was a goddamn crime to put a DISH in a SINK!  Unfortunately, I have been hit with one too many “you’re a slob, huh?”-looks from guests who see the plate I used at breakfast that morning sitting there in the sink.  Now, thankfully, there is a trick if you have a dishwasher, aka “the best hiding place in the world.”  Look, you don’t have to have every dish actually clean once guests arrive, they just can’t be able to see them without opening a SECRET door.  So do yourself a favor, jam every dirty dish or kitchen utensil you have into your dishwasher right before your guests arrive.  That way, when you’re giving them the grand tour of your 900 square foot apartment, you’ll get to shoot them a “bet you feel dumb for thinking I was a slob”-look when you get to the kitchen portion of the tour.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you get your dog all riled up and running around your apartment, but then she accidentally jumps into a table and starts crying.  You grab her, almost start crying yourself because it’s your fault and you think you’re about to pay $2,000 at the vet because her leg “has to be broken if she’s crying like this.”  Only to have her, one minute later, walk around like nothing ever happened while you try to convince your wife that you weren’t crying.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I really love this band and am reminded of it when their songs randomly come up on my Spotify mixes.

MOM MEMORY OF THE DAY:

Yeah, I know, this may be a bit heavy, but I’m always trying to be really honest in this blog and I think a lot about my Mom.  So, until I start gambling again (“I can’t wait!” said the VP in a shitty, sarcastic tone) I’m going to share some quick memories of my Mom.

When I was 15, my parents got me a 1984 Ford Escort hatchback to learn on.  They didn’t want me to learn on their much nicer cars, so they gave me this hunk of junk and DARED me to say anything negative about it.  Within the first week of having it, my Mom backed her Chevy Suburban directly into the driver’s side of my Ford Escort.  I was outside when it happened, and I watched like it was slow motion.  She left a massive dent in my car, while there wasn’t a scratch on the Suburban.  While I stood in the driveway watching, she rolled down her window and very matter-of-factly said, “we’re not fixing that,” before driving off.

K, bye.

TV Shows vs. The Summer

OUR WORLD:

When it’s a beautiful day in the summer and your friends are asking you to play golf, ENJOY NATURE! (fuck off hippy) or meet up for drinks on a big, dumb patio and you pass that up to stay in to watch television, you know you’ve got an all-time show on your hands.  In normal-weather cities, like Chicago, standards for television shows go up in the summer.  With 2-3 months of not-jesus-christ-it’s-freezing temperatures, passing up those days to stay indoors brings on the type of guilt that results in involuntary “I’M NOT A LAZY PIECE OF SHIT!” scream sessions (especially unfortunate when these scream sessions take place inside your office.)  Incurring that type of guilt-complex outburst to watch some Michael Strahan gameshow is CLEARLY not worth it.  But have there been any shows this summer that are worth making your co-workers contemplate having you committed?

Let’s see….

BIG LITTLE LIES

Season 1 was fantastic with a capital FANTASTIC!  I was really getting into Season 2 when I listened to a Bill Simmons podcast that basically made fun of me for loving the show…SO I GOT CONFUSED!  How are you supposed to continue loving a show that your fave podcaster is kinda’ loving but also kinda’ making fun of?  (Here’s how…uh…don’t be such a windsock little bitch?)  I AM A GROWN MAN WHO IS TOUGH AND STRONG AND I….LIKED SEASON 2 OF ‘BIG LITTLE LIES’!!!! (Why are you crying then?)

There’s just no way to deny the acting performances in this show.  I’m always overeager to give all of the credit for a show or movie’s success to the writers, but with this cast, I think they could make the fine print of your electric bill entertaining.  (I never trusted that fucking meter!)  Early in the season, when Meryl Streep begins to make her presence known, I remember looking to the VP after each scene and saying “no, no SHE is the best actress on this show!”  Reese, Kidman, Streep, and Dern all took turns hoisting the “Best Actress on TV” trophy in between scenes of Shailene Woodley and Zoe Kravitz pretending to hold back tears because they’re tough, but not all the way because they’re DEALING WITH STUFF.  (If you want to see my best impression, ask me for my Zoe Kravitz in ‘Big Little Lies’ Season 2 face.  I’m incredibly proud of it.)

Now, if you haven’t finished it, I won’t lie, the ending doesn’t deliver in the way you’re hoping it will.  It’s not so disappointing that you should stop watching it now, but if you were thinking of skipping getting bombed outside with friends you feel comfortable splitting a check with, then I’d urge you to reconsider.  Season 2 is seven episodes, and episodes 3-5 pick up the kind of momentum that makes you say things like “I wanna be a big, little liar!”  But then you watch episodes 6 & 7, calm down, and explain to your wife that you’re not a liar.

Worth giving up big, dumb patio drinking time with friends? Almost, but not if that patio serves good margaritas with fat salt crystals lining the rim.

YELLOWSTONE

I’m not qualified to even really write about this show because (you’re a bad writer and nobody values your opinions) I’m basically a full season behind.  Think of this as more of a Public Service Announcement: if you have yet to start “Yellowstone,” you need to start watching it now before you’re a full two or three seasons behind and feel too intimidated to even start it.  I call this the “Breaking Bad Syndrome”–where you know a show is amazing, but get so far behind that you feel like you’ll never get caught up so…you just don’t, but you do lie to people and say “oh, yeah” when they ask if you’ve seen it.  Based on the first 6 episodes of Season One, “Yellowstone” is on the trajectory where in about a year and a half, most of the people you know will ask if you’ve seen it and judge you if you haven’t.  It’s not too late, guys.  Start now.

Think of this show as the cowboy version of “Succession,” where you trade some witty sarcasm for good fight scenes in dive bars.  Kevin Costner is here to remind you that he’s still the man you want to become, and his kids in the show look really fucking cool in their ranchin’ clothes (wait, this show has ranchin’ clothes?!?!)  Yeah, we’re talking full-on dusty cowboy boots, flannel shirts in the heat (how is this possible?), and cowboy hats that look like they were born to wear them.  After watching a few episodes, you’ll think about adopting this look, and then quickly abandon the idea once you realize that the jeans they were aren’t stretchy (once you wear stretchy jeans, you can never return to NOT wearing stretchy jeans.)

Worth giving up big, dumb patio drinking time with friends?  Yes, unless you have friends who are from Montana and say things like “I reckon'” without sounding ridiculous.

SOUTHERN CHARM

I’m going to be honest with you guys…the show badly misses T-Rav.  BADLY.  Now, does it make me feel good that I’m lamenting the loss of a probable-rapist from a reality show on BRAVO?  No.  It actually makes me feel horrible that I even wrote that, so I’m immediately taking that back.  Folks, please disregard the opening two lines in this section; I’ve only had 1.7 cups of coffee thus far, and everyone knows that I’m not my true self until I’ve hit the 2.4 cup mark (he’s right, everyone knows this.)  

What I’m trying to say is that this season of “Southern Charm”, while still entertaining in the way that a bag of chips is satisfying, it’s causing me to feel as bad as I do after gorging on a bag of Salt ‘n Vins.  This season, more than any before, I’m finding myself saying “I think these guys are just kinda’ sad losers, though…”  (Is Jimmy finally criticizing people who drink too much?)  The episode where Austin breaks up with Madison over the phone and then gets hammered with Shep and Craig on like a Tuesday night, played like an exploding “WE’RE ADULT DO-NOTHINGS!” neon.  And I hate that I sound like that friend who gets off on criticizing reality TV, but Shep is close to 40 and looks like damp dishrag every episode.  Craig, while still lookin’ LIKE A GODDAMN SNACK, has permanent Lindsey Lohan-voice, and Kathryn feels the need to constantly remind everyone in her vicinity that, no matter how big her house is, she’s still the number one victim in the world.

Listen, it’s still worth watching to make fun of stuff with your VP of Ops (yeah, you can use it, as long as you give me proper credit every single time you do.)  But the older and more responsible I’m forced to get, the more I feel myself resenting people who are given life on a silver platter, yet still complain as much as often as they breathe.  I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO FEEL SO STRONGLY AGAINST REALITY TELEVISION AND IT’S MAKING ME UNCOMFORTABLE!

Worth giving up big, dumb patio drinking time with friends?  Not this season, but if T-Rav makes a comeback then…NOPE, NOPE, STOPPING NOW!

MY WORLD:

The VP and I moved into our new apartment over the weekend.  Clarification: when I say that “we” moved, what I really mean is that we watched three men move all of our stuff and almost die of heat exhaustion while we pretended to do things not near them because we felt so guilty.  I know what you’re thinking, “but Jimmy, did you show all the movers the scar on your leg and talk about the ankle surgery you had?”  Uh, duh guys, what do I look like?  You really think I’m going to be silent while being emasculated right in front of my wife?  THINK AGAIN, BUBBAS!  (It was still weird when you used a bright, red marker to draw a circle around your scar tho…)

Anyway, we’re in to our new, bigger apartment now and besides pretending like I’m the mayor of box city, I’ve been fantasizing about how I could configure what will soon-be my office.  Yeah guys, this will be the first apartment that I finally have an office in, and I feel like Tommy Boy after his Dad shows him the mini-fridge in his new office.  Right when we moved in, I walked into the office, opened the door to it’s closet and said “I could put coat–or jackets–or pants in here!”  To which the VP responded, “anything, you’d like to keep out of the way.”  Then I bear hugged her before barreling into the kitchen for a victory beer.  (What did you even win?)

Now, I have to play this cool and say things to the VP like, “hey, this isn’t JUST my office, this is OUR office.”  But, between you and me, it’s my goddamn office and I’m probably going to install a lock on it that I’m never going to give The VP a key to.  “Wait, really? A lock?  That’s so weird!” Will definitely be something I say to her many times before changing the subject as quickly as possible.

I’m finally going to be able to put up all of the cool pictures that the VP of Ops has had “qualms” with in past apartments (what do you mean you don’t want the picture of Michael Jordan’s last shot as a Chicago Bull above our couch?)  But what else should I do with the space?  Here are some options, I’m mulling:

  • Multiple TVs hung on the wall
  • A fancy office chair that I can see how many times I can spin around in without having my feet touch the ground
  • A mini fridge
  • A fish tank that I can put numerous really weird-looking fish in and name all of them “Erin”
  • A phone connected to the landline that I could call from my cell phone whenever The VP and I are having a “civil disagreement,’ so when it rings, I can say, “sorry, I have to take that.”

I’ll keep you updated on my office construction, but please don’t tell The VP that it’s not hers and that she’s never going to be welcome in that room.  Thanks guys.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Getting to the age where you no longer feel comfortable not updating the address on your Drivers License whenever you move.  So now, moving ALSO includes a trip to the DMV.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

JIMMY GAMBLES:

This section sucks right now and I know it.  Until football season arrives, I’ll try to come up with something better.

K bye.