At Least You Don’t Have That Job and Bad Purchases (4-2-18)

OUR WORLD:

Boy am I excited that it’s Monday AND it’s absolutely freezing outside! This is the best! LIFE IS MEANT TO BE LIVED!!!! If you happen to see me before 9AM this morning, do yourself and walk the other way because NOT TODAY! On days when I catch myself being extra bitchy and pouty (oh, so everyday Jimmy?) I’ll try to come up with people that have it worse than me. In all honesty, my job is like 87% good stuff and the rest isn’t stuff that is worth bitching about the way the rest of the working world gets to (but I wanna pout too!!!! Also, maybe I said that so co-workers don’t give me a side-eye, like “so…if working here is so bad maybe you should just quit!” jk guys lol omg ttyl!) REGARDLESS! Some Mondays I find myself running through what jobs have it way worse than I ever had and, hopefully, ever will have. If you’re having an especially rough Monday, roll through this list and I think you’ll begin to feel thankful. Let’s call these the “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job List…(if you happen to work one of the following jobs then may God have mercy on your soul.)

–Anything having to do with outdoor construction: Aside from the 6 days of the year that are in the perfect temperature range, construction workers have to either be freezing or hotter than hell. Aside from that, they have to wear the big heavy boots FOR SAFETY! They have to wear hardhats that would def mess with your hairline, and the bending and lifting and digging and hammering and what if you slip? If you’re a full-time construction person, you definitely have a story about slipping and “that’s why my hand doesn’t really work anymore.” Aside from the actual work itself, keep in mind that the general public is FUCKING annoyed with construction sites because they’re loud, hold up traffic and “like, is it EVER gonna be done?!” How many angry drivers do you think these people have to deal with per day? If you’re working road construction, there have to be at least 8 times a day where some douche in a foreign car lays on his horn because construction has created a traffic jam. Does the horn help ease the jam? Of course not, but Mr. Audi Douche would like everyone to know that he HAS A FUCKING MEETING!

The combo of backbreaking work and a generally ungrateful audience is a ROUGH work environment. The only upside is getting to eat whatever you want because you just worked so hard. Like, if I’m jackhammering a sidewalk for five hours (that’s a thing they do, right) you better believe I’m not gonna worry about how many carbs are in the BIG sandwich from Potbelly. You’re getting that big cuz you earned the ever loving shit out of that big. So that’s nice…but then it’s back to the heat and hard manual labor and, you know what guys? I quit. I just can’t.

-Starbucks Barista: You are immediately SLAMMED busy earlier than the entire world on Monday morning dealing with Monday people who have yet to have their coffee. Seriously, how have their not been more Monday morning Starbucks shootings? Having worked in a restaurant that had a cappuccino machine (whatever, yeah…it’s, not even a big deal) I know first hand that making those foofy coffee drinks is a BITCH. Thankfully, I only had to make like one per 6 hour shift. These Starbucks people have to make like a bajillion all the while an angry pre-coffee mob is waiting off to the side wondering why the fuck their mocha gabba jabba is taking more than one second to make! You think your job has pressure?!?! GET REAL BROTHA!

Also, how many times have you been behind that person at Starbucks who seems to be trying to invent their own personal drink? Like, there’s no way Starbucks has a “virgin, half caf, pseudo-mocha, almond butter infused cafe ole easy foam heavy bubbles”…AND THEN THEY DO HAVE THAT THING! But, the person who ordered it isn’t even impressed! Instead, they just go back to their fucking bluetooth phone convo and you just wanna be like “aren’t you AMAZED with that barista?!?!” But they’re not. Nope, the barista will carry on like the Van Gogh of coffee drink makers and Barry Bluetooth won’t even think about dropping a buck in the tip jar. If I were the barista? I’d just make everyone a black coffee and then shrug my shoulders and say NOTHING when they’d complain.

-Meter Maids: I always always always think about what a meter maid says to his/her spouse when they get back home and are asked how their day was. Is there ever a good day to be a meter maid? Hand up, I am SUPER mean to these people and I don’t even feel that bad about it cuz I’ve become a master of justifying it (I have effectively convinced myself that the only people that could work this job are people that legitimately enjoy ruining people’s days.) When I have a little distance from it though, they are definitely working that job because it pays the bills and they’re just doing their best. Talk about a thankless job. A Meter Maid has never heard someone say “good job!” I bet even their bosses are just pissed they didn’t assign more tickets.

I would love to be at a table next to a bunch of meter maids at a happy hour. Can you imagine the “this is why my job sucks”-stories that they get to share with each other? All day, everyday they are dealing with people who just missed moving their car by 4 minutes. Oh! And, they have to be outside all day in a uniform which mucho stinks. Please, don’t tell me about how it would be “nice to be outside” in the summer. Why do you think air conditioning was invented? Because being outside is nice for a minute and then “it’s actually kinda’ hot.” PASS!

As I’ve written this, my big huge beautiful brain has been flooded with other jobs that would be mucho stinko so….guess what guys?!?! I’m gonna make this a jimmyschair Monday staple. From here on out, FOR THE REST OF TIME! The Monday edition of jimmyschair will include a list of “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-jobs. I’m excited.

MY WORLD:

I spent too much money at the bar on Saturday night. I opened up a tab, turned into JimmyGoodTimes and, quickly, morphed into JimmyIGotThis for the proceeding 4 hours. Closing my tab included the “it’ll be okay” self-talk followed by hating myself all day yesterday, with a few “it’s just money, Jimmy” mixed in to try to calm myself. It wasn’t THAT bad (I’m a pouty baby, remember?) but, like, DAMNIT JIMMY! Much the way I do with other jobs on Monday mornings, I tried to remember back to a worse purchase that I have made, in an effort to make myself feel better. That’s when I remembered…I bought a recliner from Costco when I was in high school.

I worked at a golf course in the summers during high school, and since I was too scared to make any actual friends, I turned my bedroom in an ultimate hang-zone (you talkin’ ’bout a Hangzone 5000? Yeah guys, I am.) I bought a mini-fridge, a big tv, XBox and…all I needed was a big comfy chair. My bedroom was small and my parents definitely had caught on to my blossoming loner-den, but I lied to them about all the friends I had so, I SAID I’M FINE MOM!

Anyway, Costco had a put-it-together-yourself massaging recliner for like $400. I told my dad that I was going to get it and he rolled his eyes so hard he def saw his brain. Look, I was a stressed out lil baby and NEED MASSAGES DAD! GAH! My bedroom was 1,000,000,000,000% too small for this chair, but I was determined to be comfy at all times instead those four walls. So I saved up for weeks and bought the friggin chair. It took me FOREVER to put together and would slam into my dresser every time I leaned back. The “massaging” felt and sounded more like loose pebbles being thrown at my back a little too hard, and the plug sparked whenever I put it in the wall outlet. Did someone order a fire hazard?

Whenever my dad would walk past my room, I would sit in the chair and make purring noises because I was very weird and thought that would make him jealous that he didn’t have such a chair. He was never jealous. Disappointed? Absolutely. Jealous? That’s gonna be a “no”. After a few weeks of pretending to be comfortable in a not-comfortable-at-all-massaging-recliner, I dug the box out of the garage, dismantled the chair, and returned it to Costco. They gave me all my money back and….WAIT!

That didn’t work at all. Now I don’t feel better about my weekend bar spend because I can’t throw the 19 Tecates I had in a box and return them to the bar. Great. Well, I hope you enjoyed my exercise in not-making-myself-feel-better. GODDAMNIT!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This scene came up at our Easter dinner and we all laughed like maniacs. Enjoy:

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you open up your refrigerator on Monday morning and see all the Easter candy you stole from your parents house is sitting right in front of your dumb, fat face but you can’t have any cuz it’s Monday morning and you were gonna get back to eating healthy this week. Thissss isssss jusssssssst GREAT!

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

I’m not gonna lie to you guys. I know that I bet on Kansas and Michigan this weekend. I also know that JimmyGoodTimes made quick friends with JimmyGambles and, next thing I know, I had like a billion little bets going on the two final four games this weekend. What were they? I absolutely do not remember and, no, I will not check my betting history to see what they were. All’s I know is that I only lost like $9 which is less than $10, so I’m basically even. I’LL TAKE IT! Tonight? I’m probably gonna bet on Michigan because my friend went there, but my brain thinks Villanova is gonna chop Michigan’s head off.

(My account currently at $64.82)

K bye.

Restaurant Rules Pt. 2

OUR WORLD:

Hungover, poor and outrageously jealous of my friends with credit card points was me as a restaurant worker. Squeezing that hostility into t-shirts that were 1.5 sizes too small (had to show off the guns) and you had what those in the biz like to call a “problem”. Looking back at my time as a restaurant worker, it’s amazing there was never a choking incident involving me either as the aggressor or victim. You know what my favorite thing to do was? Tell customers “no”. I’m not even kidding. Like, if someone asked “do you have a tomato vodka pasta sauce?” I would just say “no,” and just let the waiting-for-an-alternative-suggestion-silence devour their whole world. I could feel them squirm waiting for me to break the silence, but THAT. WAS. NOT. COMING. It was a Buffalo Bill type tendency that makes me worry about what else I’m capable of…madness…yes, madness….WHAT A FUCKING DICK I WAS! (You still are Jimmy and everyone will find out and stop being friends with you and you’ll go crawling back to that restaurant begging to sweep the floors. From, The Woman you abandoned in awkward silence until her brain melted from the stress of it all, just because it felt good to respond “no” when she asked if you “had any gluten free homemade noodles?”)

These confessions will sound even more insane after I tell you that…I GOT PROMOTED MULTIPLE TIMES IN MULTIPLE RESTAURANTS!!! That’s right, the lunatic in the tiny tee who got off on disappointing customers without explanation MOVED. UP. THE LADDER. (This is the part where my head tells me that I should remind the readers that I’m a Sensei in the art of exaggeration but…I’m not really exaggerati-SHIT!) You want to know the real reason I’m telling you my deepest darkest restaurant secrets, though? A) Because I don’t work there anymore and like…{valley-girl voice} whatever! B) Because I wanted to establish a common ground with restaurant workers before I give my…—

“WHAT NOT TO DO” FOR RESTAURANT WORKERS

-When you see a customer trying to get your attention out of the corner of your eye, don’t pretend you didn’t see them and then act busier than you are.

Again, a go-to move for Tiny Tee Jimmy (The VP’s friend made fun of my small restaurant shirts when we started dating and I can never shake it now). This move is absolutely infuriating because WE KNOW YOU CAN SEE US! How many times have you sat at a cleared table waiting to get the check only to have your server walk past you a billion times pretending not to see your “excuse me, sir”-face? Or, how about the times you realize you don’t have a salt shaker on your table only after your food is dropped? Sure, the dish may not need salt, but you gotta dump some on it just for ritual’s sake and THE SERVER KEEPS IGNORING MY FINGER GUN/PINKY UP/AHEM-MISS? MOVE!!!! GODDAMNIT! I think servers do this because they’re procrastinators hoping that work will just disappear.

-Don’t shrug your shoulders when people ask you which dish is better.

Look, even if you don’t have a strong opinion either way, just lie to me and tell me that the pesto is WAY better than the alfredo (cuz it always is…lay off fatsos, alfredo is cream with salt.) I’ll never understand why some servers get awkwardly shy when asked to help a customer decide between two dishes. Some act like there are chickens and cows with guns waiting for them in the kitchen; “I heard you say the chicken picatta was better than the strip steak. So now I get to watch my wife get ripped from my arms and thrown onto a searing-hot pan,” said Chicken Charlie, as he turned his glock from Server Sally back unto himself, “I’m on my way sweetie….”

Unless you’re faced with cleaning widower chicken brains off your kitchen’s walls, maybe just give the customer a teeny tiny bit more confidence in their dinner order. Also, if you give no answer to a customer looking for an opinion, all you’re doing is creating an awkward silence at the table and, therefore, causing you to spend more time dealing with people you don’t really want to be dealing with in the first place. When I was a server, I would sometimes tell people I didn’t like items just to make them think I was trustworthy. They’d ask, “how’s the shrimp?” and I would tell them “it’s not my favorite” even though it sometimes was. Why? Because when you give someone an unexpectedly honest seeming answer, they IMMEDIATELY think they can trust you…(and now I feel like a sociopath for admitting I think that…)

-Don’t get defensive when your table asks why their food is taking longer than it should.

This is simple if you get ahead of the issue. You know if food is taking too long to come out. What is so hard about going up to a table and saying “hey guys, I’m sorry your food has been taking a while, but our kitchen is backed up and now I’m gonna tell you a lie about our computer system fucking things up because we all kinda’ hate technology.”? You immediately get in front of the awkward interaction that begins with a table asking “what is taking so long?” Even if it is your fault, blame it on some asshole in the kitchen that the table is never gonna meet. Odds are that the table will appreciate how forthright you just were and will feel bad that you have to deal with Donnie’s kitchen bullshit.

Or, you can get defensive when a guy asks you why the turkey sandwich and egg dish that he and his wife ordered is taking over 40 minutes (weird…the exact thing happened to The VP of Ops and I this past Sunday…) Then you’ll get a–dammit, you’ll still get a 15% tip because I felt guilty but you totally didn’t deserve even 15% and I want you (yeah you, the professional eye-roller) to know that I’m normally a 25% tipper. So, enjoy being 10% poorer than you should be (that’s how math works, jerk.)

-Don’t pour my drink into a glass right in front of me like I don’t know how to do it.

Does anyone enjoy watching a server approach your table, set down a glass, open your beer for you and then slowly, awkwardly, incorrectly pour it into said glass all while you just sit there like a fat, useless tub of lard? You probably look at your phone to cut the awkwardness, don’t you? I’ve taken to just telling them that I can do it to avoid the ensuing awkwardness. Let me say this; if you enjoy having a beer opened and poured for you while you do nothing, then your parents probably resent the person you have become.

Bring the beer and open it. Leave the pouring to me. I’M AN ADULT WHO HATES FEELING USELESS EVEN THOUGH I KINDA’ AM SOMETIMES BUT NOT WHEN IT COMES TO POURING DRINKS IN GLASSES!

–Don’t have Law & Order SVU on the TVs without the sound when the city you’re in has a team in the playoffs playing RIGHT NOW!

If you’re a Law & Order SVU-themed bar, then fine (I can hear The VP of Ops making borderline-sexual grunting noises at the thought of this). But, the only people watching TVs in bars are sports fans, so why tease them? I do think that hipster servers probably love watching sportos squirm as they pretend not to know how a television remote works and ask “wait, what channel did you say?” for the ninth time. Part of me respects such deviousness, but most of me is a sporto who JUST GIVE ME THE GODDAMN REMOTE!

MY WORLD:

My worst restaurant experience as a customer happened when I lived in Los Angeles (golden tan, killer bod, hot babes and blow wherever I went. You know? That Los Angeles). I was on a date with A REAL LIFE LADY (Pre-VP of Ops. This girl was more “VP of Not Being Able To Contribute To The Conversation”) My plan for the date was a little out there, dinner and a movie, but I’m a risk taker, guys. We got to dinner, ordered and began having very forced, stilted conversations that were not made better with my penchant for drinking super fast when I get nervous. I was nervous and…needed to get drunk so fast please be drunk now so I don’t have to deal with my feelings faster faster faster!!!!

Next thing I know, it’s like 45 minutes after we ordered our entrees and the food still isn’t there. Am I eight drinks deep? Yes, but there was no drink limit printed on the menu so looks like I’m not breaking any rules and you should shut up. Besides, Miss No-Conversation-Skills wasn’t interesting when I was sober, so what was I really missing?

Not wanting to waste our tickets for Russell Crowe and his “Am-I-Officially-Too-Fat-To-Be-A-Star”face in “Robin Hood”, I asked our server if our food was getting close. “I don’t know man,” was not the response I was hoping for, but it was the response I got. Even my drunk brain was like “whoa, that was rough.” The restaurant was DEAD so I knew the kitchen wasn’t backed up, but I didn’t wanna introduce Miss ZERO-PERSONALITY to Angry Jimmy on our first date. So I sat quiet, kinda bit the inside of my lip and prayed that, that dickhead server just gave me a reason…JUST GIMME A REASON!

Another 20 minutes and nothing. I hadn’t seen our server for a while so I went up to the host stand to ask for a manager. YEAH, I DID THAT. When the manager arrived I told him that we had waited for over an hour and blah blah blah we needed to go now. So he asked me to pay for our drinks…Lame move, Mr. Manager. Waiting over an hour to get no food and you want me to–okay, okay, we’re not getting angry. I repeat! We (as in me) are going to prove to Miss I-Already-Can’t-Wait-Till-This-Is-Over that WE are in control of our emotions even in the most adverse of conditions. Did I tell the manager that I didn’t appreciate the service that night? I did. Did he shake his head like a condescending bitch and apologize “if you feel that way”? He did. We are still in control of our emotions.

Then we left the restaurant to walk to the movie theater when I saw our server, back in the restaurant, making purposeful eye-contact with me and proceeding to wave at me as I left. It was one of those “go fuck yourself” waves and that’s when I politely told The VP of You’re About To Be Embarrassed By Me that I would be right back.

I re-entered the restaurant making a BEE-LINE for the kitchen where I saw the server giving me the “go fuck yourself” wave. Manager Douche Canoe and the bartender got in my way but not before I got to yell “come outside and say goodbye to me!” to my new server friend. It was a solid line and I am forever proud I got it out. The fact that such a cool line was lost in me cussing out the manager and bartender is something I wish not to rehash.

I used to legitimately wonder why that server was such a dick to me that night. Did he used to date the girl I was out with? Seemed unlikely that any other human would be duped into going out with such a DUD, so I’m gonna cross that off the list. Did I go to High School with him and he was offended I didn’t recognize him? Probably not because I was a total loner back then, but a real sweetheart who most people secretly felt bad for (right?) Maybe he was jealous that I was pulling off the two-earring look that he always dreamed of going for but never had the nerve to commit to? Probably. Or, it was just because he was a server who hated being reminded of the fact that he had to work when most people were on off-time. And now I totally understand and feel bad for trying to intimidate him. (I am also thankful that he did not come and say goodbye to me outside because that would have been scary!)

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Fat Russell Crowe in the middle of a walking work-out is a personal fave.

RUSSELL CROWE OUT IN LA

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you’re in the middle of watching an awesome YouTube video on your iPhone and, all of a sudden, the video stops because your phone has to warn you that you only have 20% battery life remaining. THANKS FOR RUINING THE MOOD, APPLE!

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

Another day, another dollar not won. Starting to feel like I’m giving money away by NOT gambling. I will be alone in a Rockford, Illinois hotel tonight and that means one thing…gambling on random NBA games RIGHT before they start. No point in looking at the lines now.

(My account currently at $102.61)

K bye.

Ideal Lollapalooza Line-Up and How I Got A Nickname (3/22/18)

OUR WORLD:

The lineup for Lollapalooza 2018 came out yesterday and, after looking it over, I broke into my best old-timey-Italian-chef accent and loudly proclaimed (alone, to myself, in my car) “Thissa issa Garbagio!” If you’re not familiar with Lollapalooza, A) NERD! and B) it’s a big music festival in Chicago that was supposed to be about alternative rock bands and has somehow turned into a teenage grindfest set to robot music. Now don’t get me wrong, Coach P (that’s me, FYI. A nickname I will delve into in today’s “My World”.) loved himself a good grind sesh when he was in high school/college/right-after-college-when-I-was-real-drunk-and-in-Wrigleyville, but with age comes the realization that grinding in public is WEIRD and you suddenly feely amazingly uncomfortable around anyone doing it. Like, “where are my eyes allowed to go?”-uncomfortable. Me next to grinders = Giving an exaggerated eye-roll/head shake to signify to everyone around me that I’m not a creep, then definitely watching the grinders out of the corner of my eye because when people are having sex w/ clothes on next to you, YOU WATCH! OKAY? IT’S FASCINATING! AND YEAH, MAYBE I AM GETTING A LITTLE RUSH ON THE IDEA OF BEING CAUGHT WATCHING THEM! I DON’T KNOW, I CAN’T EXPLAIN IT! (oh I can explain it…I’m dat naughty boy.) And now I have to go take a walk. I feel shame.

So that’s why people my age can’t really go to Lollapalooza anymore, and it doesn’t help that lately, the Lolla (cool Chicago lingo) music booking people seem to ONLY book bands and headliners that appeal to not only grinders, but teenage grinders. This is a no-fly-zone. I can handle the drunk, 49 year-old just-divorced-guy grinding with the 41 year-old wino because it’s funny. But, the teenage grinding is too young and too weird and like, legally, uncomfortable to be around. Real talk, I feel like I could be arrested just for happening to stand next to teenage grinders (and I’m still not positive that’s NOT the case). Even just writing about it…like, is this okay? (You’re understanding that I’m against it, right? Guys?)

Therefore, in an effort to avoid uncomfortable grinding situations, and potentially jail time, I would like to propose the 33 year-old’s perfect Lollapalooza lineup. (I am 32 now, but will be 33 in August. I wanted to point that out because The VP of Ops is 33 now and…so she’s older than me. Just wanted to state, for the record, that The VP of Ops is older than I am. Does that mean I’m a dirty dawg and she’s a cradle robbin’ nasty nancy? I don’t know. That’s for you to decide.) When creating this lineup, keep in mind: 1) It is a one-day lineup only because 33 year olds can no longer enjoy RAGING on back-to-back days. Can we do it? Of course we CAN, but the second day will be half-fun, half-holy-shit-this-hangover-is-gonna-kill-me. 2) The bands/acts chosen can NOT appeal to the teenage grinding crew. While I do like some younger pop acts (Khalid, nbd) I am not willing to risk jail time to see them perform. 3) Bands will only play TWO SONGS MAX and will play at the time of day best suited for their talents and our mood. Why only two songs? Because all of your fave bands have two songs that you LOVE and it’s always better to leave a show wanting more than pretending not to be bored with their new material. Without further ado:

Noon-2PM:

*I will say that the bands/songs I am choosing for these day-parts will not take ALL of the allotted time. Deal with it and, you know what, enjoy it. You’ll be able to go get all the beers and snacks you’d like without missing songs. You’re welcome.

Dispatch plays “The General”–Dispatch only gets this song but they’ll play it twice because it kicks ass and I don’t know any of their other songs. It’s a good song to start the day off because it’s about “taking a shower and shining your shoes” and THAT’S MORNING STUFF GUYS! Shaking the cobwebs off and getting into that first beer. No grinding in sight. (Real talk, listening to Dispatch now and their second most popular song “Only the Wild Ones” is enchanting! Am I getting into Dispatch before your very eyes?)

Counting Crows plays “Round Here” and then “Mr. Jones”–I know, I don’t like Adam Duritz’s hair either, but that doesn’t mean that these two songs aren’t solid daytime JAMS. Slow, but not too slow. Perfect sway in place music. As Mr. Jones hits it’s crescendo, you’re gonna give your friends the “It’s so on!” look…

Bone Thugs-N-Harmony plays “The Crossroads” and then “1st of Tha Month”–Oh, it is SO ON! Be careful not to stand next to the friend of yours who actually knows all of the words to these because you will be made to feel inadequate. My move with Bone Thugs? Look down wit’ my hands up during the verses only to pop up like a friggin jack-in-the-box for “MEET ME AT THE CROSSROADS, CROSSROADS!” A little hippity hoppity has completely OBLITERATED any remaining early-day cobwebs. We’re outside and having fun!

2PM-6PM:

Outkast plays “Ms. Jackson” and then “So Fresh, So Clean”–You have entered the midday party rap jam zone and it. feels. right. VP of Ops will have a consistent “I’m-smiling-as-big-as-I-can”-face throughout the duration of this zone. Again, another time when your cool friend is going to know more than just the “for eva eva?” words, but they’re gonna be nice about it. Get ready for a lot of pointing at your spouse when Outkast sings “I’m sorry Ms. Jackson!” Guess what? WE’RE ALL MS. JACKSON TODAY!

Bloc Party plays “This Modern Love” and then “Banquet”–You may not know this band off the top of your head, but they had a moment in the early 2000s where we all liked them mucho. Put these songs on and you’ll definitely say “Oh, I remember this!” to yourself. Pop-rock that plays before it’s dark is what is needed now and Bloc Party is here for you. It’s fun! It’s sweet! It’s light! Whoa, it’s picking up some! AND YOU CANNOT GRIND TO THIS!

Girl Talk plays “Play Your Part (Pt. 1)” and then “Shut The Club Down”–This is as close to robot music as we’ll get, but don’t worry, it’s not true robot music. Remember when Girl Talk was super awesome for like 2 months? The mash-up master of all the songs we liked when we were younger is exactly what this doctor ordered. Can’t have him play too late because these songs mixed with darkness = “lets-make-regrettable-decisions!” for people in their early 30s.

MGMT plays “Kids” and then “Electric Feel”–If you still don’t get excited when these songs come on the radio, do me a favor, mmmkay? Pack your shit and move to Russia cuz you, my not-friend, are up to NO GOOD. I don’t know what happened to this band after this album, but it doesn’t matter. Shooting stars shine brightest and burn out super fast or whatever the fuck that saying is. These two songs are FOREVER JAMS and the perfect entry point to dusk. Sun has begun to go down a little bit…we’ve come off the high of Girl Talk, but we’re still riding the feel-good waves.

6PM-8PM:

Kings of Leon plays “Closer” and then “Use Somebody”–God, I loved this album. As the sun starts to set, it’s time for kinda’ ominous guitars and gravely voices. Uh…check and check! “Use Somebody” is an all-time anthem that, while overplayed, I still sing outloud in my car EVERY time it comes on. Hot tip when doing that: do NOT lower the volume to see if you “actually kinda’ sound like the lead singer”…you don’t, and that realization is going to lower your self-esteem.

Green Day plays “When I Come Around” and then “Basket Case”–Before Billie Joe put on too much eye make-up and got sober, they were an absolute good-vibes-hit factory. Now, you could argue that these two slammers off “Dookie” are better daytime jams. My rebuttal? As the sun goes down, we can’t just listen to ominous rock songs one after the next. Gotta break it up with some party vibes. Enter Green Day. (This was one of the first CDs I ever bought when I was younger, and I remember my Mom asking me what “Dookie” meant. It’s pooh, Mom. Dookie is pooh.)

My Morning Jacket plays “One Big Holiday” and then “Gideon”–It’s getting dark outside, guys! That means we’re seeing some cool light shows (not too techno-y though…don’t wanna attract grinders) and GIMME THAT MY MORNING JACKET VOICE! Kinda singing, kinda yelling, with big hair and a big beard….I NEED IT! “One Big Holiday” is our energetic goodbye to the sun (LOVE YOU SUN!) and “Gideon” slowly…cautiously…opens the doors to the night…welcome to the darkness, my friends.

8PM-WHENEVER:

Queens of the Stone Age plays “You Think I Ain’t Worth A Dollar,But I Feel Like A Millionaire” and then “Go With The Flow”–Kick that fucking nighttime door down! Darkness and Josh Homme’s rockin-ass voice means one thing for Coach P: head-banging. This is the part of the night I forget that The VP of Ops is standing next to me as I head bang my way through every second of these songs. I will not move the hair out of my face cuz I’m trying to feel like the rockstar that I am not (but like…I kinda look, like it right?) The VP will roll her eyes, tell me to push my hair back and then get kinda-actually-mad when I tell her to leave me alone. Can’t wait!

Radiohead plays “Myxomatosis” and then “I Might Be Wrong”–This band was made to only be listened to at night. Your energy may be waning, and this is that cool not-too-fast-not-too-slow spooky rock you are craving. I like how weird Thom Yorke looks and acts on stage. Seriously, the weirder the better. This will be a continuation of me pissing of The VP of Ops when I kinda’ do my Thom Yorke impression by flailing my arms around and shaking like I’m being electrocuted. Oh, also “I Might Be Wrong” has my favorite opening instrumental part of any rock song ever. It goes like “boom doom boom doom doom”-you know what just listen to it. K.

Jay-Z and Kanye play the entire “Watch The Throne” album–You thought you were done getting hyphy?!?!? (I don’t really know exactly what that word means, but it sounds right). This album is blue flames hot hot hot and anytime I hear it, it’s like the first time. EVERYONE IN THE UNIVERSE LOVES THIS ALBUM. There will be cool lights, weird floaty stage things cuz of Kanye and The VP of Ops will do the scrunch-face thing that makes her look tough and cool at the same time. I will probably try to do some sort of sway dance moves that I’m not young enough to pull off, but I. WILL. NOT. CARE.

Who wants to start a letter campaign with me to get Lollapalooza to actually run this lineup? No? Okay, just meet the VP and I at our apartment on Lolla-day this year cuz I will be playing this lineup LOUD. (Can you bring some Rose’? Thanks!)

MY WORLD:

Some of my friends call me “Coach P” and it’s probably my favorite thing in the world. You wanna see me light up like a rich man’s Christmas tree? Call me “Coach”. How did I get such a baller bad boy nickname? I kinda’ forced it. Those people that say you can’t force a nickname, I would like to introduce you to my nutz cuz I JUST DUNKED ON YOU! (Both my mother and my mother-in-law read this and I do not feel good about writing the nutz thing. Sorry ladies. ‘Member when I did the dishes after Christmas dinner?)

A few years back, I talked my friends into joining the VP of Ops and I at a divey bowling alley called “Fireside”. It’s in the movie “The Break-Up” if that helps. If not, imagine your favorite dive bar has the bowling alley from “The Big Lebowski” behind it. Yeah, it’s pretty effin’ sweet.

I was in my chubbo phase, so I dressed extra dad-like to play off my appearance as a joke. “Fat? Guys, it’s a joke!”

*Real tip: if you’re getting bigger, start dressing worse. If you buy cool, bigger clothes your friends are just going to notice that you’re wider. If you start wearing kinda funny, out-of-style clothes, your friends will just make fun of you for being a bad dresser, but you’ll act like you do it cuz it’s funny. It will piss off your spouse, but “it’s called a joke, ever heard of it!?!?!”

So, wearing loose khakis and probably a dope quarter-zip, I kinda took on this “Coach-like” character at the bowling lanes. I was drinking vodka out of a clear plastic cup because I WAS WATCHING MY WEIGHT and “Fireside” serves everything in clear plastic cups. Being awful at bowling, I figured I should give The VP of Ops very gruff, pointed tips on how she could be better. I would use this gravely voice and huff and puff around acting like her gutter-balls were actually disappointing me. I was the old man bowling coach who lived above the lanes and only drank cheap vodka. My “lessons” included yelling “Roll the ball!” and “Again!” at The VP of Ops. She did not find this character as humorous as I did.

Thankfully, my comedic-genius of a friend, Jamie, started calling me “Coach P” during this routine and IT STUCK LIKE WHEN YOU WEAR A SHIRT OUT OF THE DRYER BUT YOU FORGOT TO PUT THE DRYER SHEET IN WHEN YOU STARTED THE DRYER. Now, did me correcting everyone to only call me “Coach P” for the rest of the night have something to do with it sticking? Listen, I’m not a judge. Okay? I’m not a judge. I’m a coach.

Coach P.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

There’s an ad at the beginning, but it’s worth it. (If you are my parent or a parent of The VP of Ops…maybe skip this?)

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This is the type of robot music that plays at Lollapalooza now as everyone grinds and makes the older people stay in the back. I can listen to this when I work out (yeah, I work out. Whatever.) But, I’m not listening to this in public at a rave. I just can’t. Also, as I played this song on my computer’s speakers, Belle made an audible “can you turn that off now?”-sound.

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

Guess what haters? I WON MY BET LAST NIGHT!!! To all of you who told me that “maybe gambling isn’t for you” or “do you really have enough disposable income to do this?” SHUT UP. Bet it feels bad to be such a stupid idiot! I just, can’t believe that people actually doubted my gambling abilities. Why do we fall down? To get back up! Well, I’m up and I’m ready to carry you all the way to the bank! No better way to re-enter into NCAA Tourney picks than this. You feeling great? I’M FEELING GREAT! Give me Nevada, Texas A&M, Kentucky and Gonzaga tonight. Hope you like getting rich.

(My account currently at $40.71)

K bye.

Navigating Sports Fans at Work Today (3/15/2018)

OUR WORLD:

Today is the first day of the NCAA Tournament, the REAL kick-off for March Madness. This is the 4th of July in the middle of March, celebrated indoors, without fireworks or hot dogs, but…GODDAMNIT, YOU GET WHAT I’M SAYING. (I’m on edge, and I’m not apologizing for it today. I’m a full pot of coffee deep and my nerves are….FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP BARKING BELLE!!!) Today is a super big deal for sports fans, and the fact that a candidate hasn’t run on a “I’ll make the first 2 days of March Madness National Holidays”-platform is a real mystery. (Jimmy Politics IS IN THE BUILDING!!!) However, I do realize that today is also a prime day for the non-sports fans to poke fun at and needle people of my ilk. I am asking, for the sake of sports NUTZ everywhere, that you refrain from doing that today. (I’m not kidding. This is not a joke and that is why there is no joke being inserted here. This is a serious ask from a serious man. Simply, today is not the day. NOT. THE. DAY.) Along those lines, here is a guide for you non-sporties out there at work today looking to steer clear of the glare/wrath/shout/get-the-fuck-away-from-me-RIGHT-NOW-ANDY:

*Before I begin, from here on out, I will be referring to the Sports Fans as “Jimmy’s” and the Non-Sports Fans “Hitler’s” because I am Jimmy and, I don’t know, “Hitler’s” has a ring to it.

This Morning: The “Jimmy’s” will be BOUNCING into work. No coffee crash this morning because they’re going to keep drinking it until lunch. Can’t crash if you never stop, everyone knows this. The train to PURE-BLIND-JOY-VILLE has left the station and the Jimmy’s are hanging off the sides waving their newsboy caps in the air like they did in the old-timey movies. We’re going to paradise!

The-Train

Adrenaline through the roof because ALL of the “Jimmy’s” have convinced themselves that this is they year they win their NCAA pool. (I am SO in that mindset right now.) They’re settling in to their desks and smiling and shooting cool head nods at everyone, including the “Hitler’s”.

This is the part of the day where a Hitler may get caught in the middle of a few Jimmy’s talking about what upsets they have today. Hitler’s, this is the only time you will be able to make the “Sports!” joke without SEVERELY pissing off a Jimmy (saying “Sports!” in the middle of a sports convo is Hitler’s go-to “joke” even though it never actually makes people laugh. Next time, just say “I feel left out!” Same effect. It’s what I do when people talk about wrestling or books.)

The Jimmy’s will be listening to good-times music (think, “Valerie” by Steve Winwood on repeat) because they need positive vibes. Don’t even think about putting the office speakers on something like Bon Iver or The National because positive vibes and positivity and being optimistic and everything is going to be great! I FEEL GREAT! THIS IS GOING GREAT!!!! (I literally just said “I feel great!” outloud in my chair while listening to “Valerie”) Hitler’s, get it out now. You can’t touch the Jimmy’s at this moment. Roll your eyes, audibly sigh and say stuff like “Tom, is your powerpoint ready for the meeting?”

As we near tip, the Jimmy’s will be chair dancing, making explosion noises like “BOOOOSH” after every e-mail they fire off, smirking at fellow Jimmy’s around the office and, fuck it! LET’S DANCE GUYS! TODAY IS OUR DAY!!!! TODAY IS OUR FUCKING DAY!!!!

Lunchtime: The Jimmy’s are beginning to split into factions now. Some are winning, some are beginning to lose and crumble. The coffee crash is expedited with a lunchtime beer. Hitler’s, watch out for the Jimmy who orders the second lunchtime beer…they are entering a dark place and you don’t deserve any of the attitude they’re about to throw your way. “I don’t know, Bill. I said I’d get to it after lunch!” These types of minor outbursts are to be expected at the point. Not too mean, but they’re getting close. You did nothing wrong, okay? It’s not-HEY! It’s not your fault!

You will also notice that The Jimmy’s are beginning to turn on each other. Rivaling factions of Jimmy’s in the same vicinity is a recipe for dis–well, not disaster. More like, “I get it, your sleeper is up 13 at half”-type tiffs. No one is super pissy yet, but there are some Jimmy’s who are beginning to question if this really is their year. (Wait? But…this is my year, isn’t it? This can’t…this just can’t be.)

Post-lunch self-awareness for Jimmy’s will be at an all-time low. They will be mediocre, AT BEST, at their job and that is not okay (but like, it kinda is). I point this out because Hitler’s need to stand back now. Don’t go up to a Jimmy to see if they “returned that e-mail yet.” It’s not the time. Now is the time to for the Jimmy’s to be smashing the refresh button on ESPN.com’s NCAA scoreboard. Pretend you can’t hear their muted cheers or stifled curse words or audible “his foot was on the line!”‘s. Jimmy’s are not looking for conversation, they are talking to God.

Early Afternoon: The Jimmy’s will be rubbing their faces and blinking very hard at this point. If they’ve taken losses in the first batch of games, they’re giving themselves pep talks. If they’ve hit on some wins, they’re probably taking deep breaths while mouthing words like “calm down, just the start. Long way to go.” They’re a little more approachable at this point, but no sudden movements or brazen attempts at sarcasm. It’s a fragile time. If Wright State beats Tennessee, they’re back on track..but…STAYING POSITIVE! NO BUTS! WE’RE ONLY THINKING HAPPY THOUGHTS RIGHT NOW!

Hitler’s, if you REALLY need something done for work, now is the last time you can ask. Be gentle and kind with your requests. The Jimmy’s are beginning to feel a twinge of guilt for ignoring 3 hours worth of e-mails, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have good hearts. They’re ready to do some, SOME! work, but don’t get nuts or mad. A simple, “Hey Jimmy, if you have time, would you mind?” Done. Love the ask, and, guess what? Doing it right now! Sorry if I was a little short earlier. Then they’ll make an embarrassed smile, shake their heads and roll their eyes a little at how childish they’ve acted.

leo-decaprio-shoulder-shrug

This is when you, Hitler, give the confused, “Don’t even worry about it!”-look with a lazy airwave. You’ll jump straight to the top of a Jimmy’s “he/she is a good person” list with a move like that.

The second batch of games begins and their concentration will begin to wane back into the ESPN scoreboard. If they haven’t finished whatever they “need” to finish…it’s gonna have to wait. Mmmkay? It’s just gonna have to wait.

End of Day: The Hitler’s have probably had it by now. I get it, being surrounded by a group of people who are SUPER interested in something you have no idea about, must SUCK. I am not friendly in situations like this. Like, when I go to Farmer’s Markets in the summer and people are freaking out about $7 tomatoes, but all I can think about is how hot I am and how Mariano’s ALWAYS has tomatoes…that are ALWAYS cheaper. “Not getting it” stinks, and I want you Hitler’s to know, that I know, that it stinks.

You’ve had to put up with en entire day of adults wildly cheering for and against teenagers that they’ve never met. It’s a dynamic that’s easy to mock, but doing so is a total dick move. No matter how funny your “You didn’t even go to that school”-reminder may be, no one will laugh. You’ve had to swallow all of your go-to “sports don’t matter as much as the thing I like”-jokes and quips for an entire work day AND YOU’RE READY TO BLOW.

Therefore, this is the most dangerous time of day. The Hitler’s have HAD IT with the lack of productivity and barbarism of The Jimmy’s, and The Jimmy’s have lost a few games by now and are beginning to calculate how much money they have spent on failed brackets over the past 5 years. (Don’t! Guys! Guys! Don’t do that!) The exit from work must be careful for both parties. To avoid setting off this powder keg, here’s what I suggest for the walk out: Jimmy’s should identify themselves by tying their coat around their waist. (I do this on the reg because A) The VP of Ops HATES it and B) It’s makes sense sometimes). Hitler’s should identify themselves by, no matter the weather, wearing their fingerless gloves (come on, I know you have them.) Waist-coaters should not get in the same elevator as the fingerless-glovers, and Fingerless-glovers should not ask the Waist-coaters how their day was. This is the time of day where it’s just better to be safe than sorry. Avoid each other.

Tomorrow will be similar. Don’t fight it.

MY WORLD:

Today’s “My World” is short and sweet…CUZ STEVE WINWOOD JAMS!!! This is my year to win a bracket because I never have and The VP of Ops has and that is bananaland UNFAIR. I plan on dominating the television whenever I am home over the next 96 hours and not. apologizing. for. it.

VALERIEEEEEE! CALL ON ME! CALL ON ME, VALERIE! COME AND SEE ME! I’M THE SAME BOY I USED TO BE!

(one of my top 6 favorite things to do in life, is to sneak up behind the VP of Ops and whisper into her ear “I’m the same boy I used to be.”)

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

heirloom-tomatoes-on-sale-at-a-farmers-market-isaquah-washington-BNMKEC

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

Listen, I’m officially afraid of the JimmysChair gambling curse and today is not the day to test it. Therefore, I will simply wish you all luck. The next 4 days are going to be a grind, pack a lunch.

(My account currently at $67)

K bye.

Mondays and Oscar Recap

MY WORLD:

I think companies should have “Monday rooms” in their offices. They should with big bean bag chairs and mirrors so you could go in, dramatically drop to your knees, curl up and watch yourself gently cry as old Carole King songs played softly over the speakers. Mondays really are for the birds and, guys, I am no bird. I’m a man! A HUMAN MAN! (If my brothers are who I think they are, they better text me a socially unacceptable joke about me being a man. Clock’s ticking, fellas. Also, if they don’t text me, I will convince myself that they don’t read my blog, hold it against them and probably tell my mom that it bums me out that they can’t find the time in their day to support a brother-me-WHO HAS BEEN NOTHING IF NOT SUPPORTIVE OF THEM SINCE THEY WERE BUT A TWINKLE IN MY PARENT’S EYES!!!)

At least I’m not starting a new job today, though. Aside from a Hangover-Monday, Starting-A-New-Job-Monday is mos def the worst version of this wretched wretched day. I don’t have an absolute nightmare story of a Starting-A-New-Job-Monday (thought about making one up but I respect the 18 readers of this more than that) but I’m going to do my best to remember as much as I can about the first Mon-Fri job that I had. I’m hoping that remembering this day will put today’s Monday in perspective so that I won’t be a pouty baby at my desk and say things like “I said I’m fine!” later.

I was 28 years old when I started my first 9-5, Monday through Friday job. (See? You’re better than me!) Now, chill out. I’d had jobs since I was like 13, but they were all restaurant jobs that didn’t make a day of the week feel like a 9-5 Monday. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of I-hate-my-life moments when working in restaurants, but there isn’t a whole day where the entire staff returns after getting 3,2,1 BLASTOFF DRUNK for the past 60 hours.

So I was 28 years old. Restaurant jobs, grad school (cue the crippling debt tremors) and a general fear of well dressed people in tall buildings kept me away from the 9-5 path up until then. I had been dating the VP of Ops (known then simply as “Hot Fire Sexy Baby”) for about 4 months and was beginning to feel…feelings…oh boy oh boy oh boy! (Hey Erin, that was cute, right? Pay rent today. K, Thx) The sting of having dissimilar hours as HFSB along with the paralyzing insecurities associated with being a grown man whose work uniform consisted of a t-shirt reading “Fresh Pasta & Seafood” had pushed me TOO FAR! It was mostly the insecurities.

I thought I should work in advertising because I live in Chicago, had a lot of good friends who worked in advertising, and I had seen commercials before. That, my friends, is what you call a Natural Fit! My good girl friend, nicknamed “Trone”, had become kind of a big-wig at one of these agencies, and posted something on Facebook about how her agency was looking for people for some entry-level position. In my basically empty head, working at an ad agency probably consisted of me getting to write commercials for major companies who were too busy doing those secret hand-signal things on Wall Street. Business stuff. So I e-mailed Trone and probably made her cry with my well-worded, deeply personal plea for help.

She set me up with an interview, and I went shopping. I had to buy cool, business pants because the loose, pleated khaki look that I had been NAILING on Easter Sundays for years just felt a bit pedantic (callback joke. Comedy term. Comedy mind.) So I went to The Gap. I think that’s supposed to be embarrassing, but once a Gap kid, always a Gap kid. So shut up. I nailed that fucking interview in those cool pants and proved, once and for all, that lying about being excited to work for a company you’d never heard of before getting an interview with them, WORKS!

I was hired to be a “Search Analyst” for an advertising company that I’ll call “Buttlicker Digital”. (Good luck getting that burn to heal properly!) I started in 3 weeks…on a Monday. Would have been cool if I started on a Friday at 3:45PM, but GAH FUHBID A COMPANY DOES SOMETHING THAT CREATIVE!

The 3 weeks leading up to this career change were V scary for me. I quit my restaurant job in a professional way because I was about to be professional and that’s what professionals do. I went to the J.Crew outlet mall with my parents so my mom could help me pick out cool clothes like any mother would with their 6 year old. I paid for these clothes by opening a J.Crew credit card because that I figured I’d have to be in J.Crew a lot going forward to keep up on hot trends. (Instead, I paid off that initial $350 spend like 3 years later after making minimum payments until I got a bonus big enough to cover the remaining like $307. I make money, guys). Clothes bought, restaurant job quit, hair cut. All that was left was this fuggin’ Starting-A-New-Job-Monday.

I drank more than I had planned in the weekend leading up to this SANJM because I was supes nervy and drinking’s fun! Thankfully, my constant state of worry, kept me up most of the night, so getting up was not an issue. I was thinner than I am now (we’re all doing our best here) so I looked pretty sah-weeeet in my new clothes. Before I left, The VP wished me luck and was encouraging and comforting and…DEAR GOD, JUST GO FOR ME ERIN!!! YOU DO IT!!!

I took an Uber because I was paranoid if I took the train I would immediately black out and somehow end up at a Cracker Barrel in Southern Arkansas. (I’m also the guy who has to get to the airport like 9 hours early just to be sure we have enough time to get through security. This is not the VP of Ops’ favorite quality of mine.) I got to Buttlicker Digital plenty early and took the elevator up to my floor. Real talk, I went to the building the day before and mapped out where I was going to go so I wasn’t having a panic attack searching for an elevator on THE Monday.

I was starting with like 8 other people that day, so we gathered in the lobby together and said stuff like “I’m excited” and “I hear good things about this place”. We met our new boss, an absolute self-centered douche who enjoyed flirting with me and wearing suit jackets that were 2 sizes too small. But, I didn’t know that yet as he led us to our “pod”.

I was put in basically a large cubicle with 3 other nubes. I had my own desk, nameplate, laptop and…wait for it…CHAIR! I was given a schedule of “webinars” to take for the next 3 hours, until we would meet for lunch. I remember ABSOLUTELY ZERO of the skills these webinars were supposed to have taught me. I put my headphones in, went to the websites and thought about whether there was a military job looking for a scared 28 year old who DID NOT want to see combat, but did want to tell people, years later, that he was a “military man”. Webinars are cool though.

After kinda doing what I was supposed to for 2 hours and 38 minutes (subtracting 22 minutes for at least 4 trips to the bathroom where I’d sit in a stall, take deep breaths, go through Twitter, and text the VP so she could remind me how brave I am. I’m so brave.) AND THEN IT WAS LUNCH TIME. Douchey flirty boss was taking us to PF Changs because midday diarrhea is even more fun when it’s the first day at a new job! Bossman ordered like 19 apps for the table to show us that he was important enough at the company to waste their money. V chill move. I ate practically nothing. I think I had a lettuce wrap with some chicken because brave boys like myself do need protein for their brave boy big muscles.

After we finished, Bossman let out a lot of deep sighs and eye-rolls as he typed on his phone. This, kiddos, is a passive aggressive way for insecure people to remind you that they work hard and are constantly insulted because they are smarter than everyone who has ever sent them an e-mail. I don’t like people like this (even though I’m sure I’ve pulled a move like this to impress people younger than me but…ME! ME, DAMNIT! ME!)

The day continued with my 36 other bosses calling us in to big empty conference rooms for meetings that didn’t really have to happen. They’d talk about goals and synergy and Excel and, surprisingly, not why the Bears couldn’t find a franchise quarterback in the 30 years since their only Super Bowl. I went to the bathroom so many times that I’m sure my co-workers thought I had IBS or a coke problem (IBS. Come on, Jimmy, you’re not cool enough to pull off the “coke problem?”-look).

5 O’Clock came and we all had to play the game where everyone knows it’s 5, but doesn’t want to be the first to leave so you pretend to type e-mails while praying to the Lord Our Savior that you hear someone drop a “see you guys tomorrow!” Months later, I had learned to leave my jacket and bag in an empty conference room so that I could walk away from my desk at 5 (ON THE DOT!) and my co-workers wouldn’t know I was leaving for the day. By the time I got to leave on the first day, I knew I was going to get many promotions during my sure-to-be-long-and-impactful stay at Buttlicker Digital. Jk lol guys, I hung on by my fingernails and ended up quitting in a very cowardly way.

Really, in hindsight, it was a completely normal, not-that-bad day. (Whoops). BUT! It was a worse Monday than I am going to experience today, and I ate a bunch of bread and pimento cheese yesterday so there. will. be. stomach. issues. Which reminds me that a close third to Starting-A-New-Job and Hangover-Monday’s is the, all too familiar, I-Ate-Like-Absolute-Shit-All-Weekend-Monday. Tell the people my story.

OUR WORLD:

The VP of Ops and I were driving back from Nashville all day yesterday, so we only got to see the final hour of the Oscars. “The Shape of Water” winning for Best Picture is something I want to get angrier about, but we’re in the honesty business on this blog and, honestly, I’m not mad, just disappointed.

If you haven’t seen it yet, don’t worry, I’m not going to ruin it for you. “The Shape of Water” had Michael Shannon and his big chin doing big chin things and a secretly V sexual mute woman who develops feelings for a fish that, no lie, was a pretty hot fish. I’m guessing hot fish guy goes to an underwater gym for at least an hour 6 days a week. You’re not just born with pecs like that.

This movie wasn’t one where I was excited to text my dad abut after, or one that I brag about seeing to people who doesn’t see movies as often as I do. That’s the “Best Picture” test. Are you excited to text your dad about it? Are you telling your co-workers that they’re basically uncultured neanderthals for not having seen it yet? (The only reason I’ll ever go to a museum is just to then have the ability to tell people that I went to a museum. That’s a fun thing to say, but you have to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Like, “yeah, I went to The Art Institute because it was a Saturday and that’s a thing we do on Saturdays.”)

In the final hour of the show, the Frances McDormand speech is what stands out to me cuz she had a hairdo that I had never seen before and said a thing I had never heard before “inclusion rider”. I’ve come to learn (shoutout google.com) that an “inclusion rider” basically says moviemakers can’t be racist/sexist dickheads when staffing their movies. This sounds reasonable. Her hairdo, along with Christopher Walken’s high-waisted pants were off-putting though, right? I can say that, right? (Why are my female co-workers glaring at me? Is that a knife? Seriously Keli, why do you have a knife?)

Real talk, my favorite part of the final hour was that you could feel how uncomfortable white, American males in the audience were. That’s fair. The rest of the audience has had to have that feeling on movie sets, in conference rooms, at award shows, and everywhere else for the past very long time because those white dudes and their dads were too busy being cocky to realize that the rest of the room felt lesser than. Fuck having to feel like that. I’m a white dude, but I’m poor so I don’t get lumped in with the bad ones, right? (Being not-rich but not-actually-poor is the best!)

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Omarosa

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

I made a $50 deposit on Saturday night while secretly vaping in a bathroom stall. I then IMMEDIATELY bet on 3 NBA games that included a parlay. I won 2 of the 3 games and lost the other and the parlay. Overall, that means I lost $5.72, but it’s basically even which is basically a win so….I AM SO FUCKING BACK IT HURTS. GET ON MY BACK PRETTY BABIES CUZ WE ‘BOUT TO GET DAT PAPER!!!!!

Tonight’s sure fire lock of the century is Milwaukee (+2.5) over Indiana.

(My account currently at $44.28)

K bye.