JimFormation · I’ve Been Thinking …

Chris Is Crazy

Almost 20 years ago, I worked my first job as a manager. I had no problems. The place ran itself. Until we hired Chris.

Wear Your Big Pants

Remember when Kevin Meaney said his mom told him to, “Go upstairs and put on your big pants. The Lobermans are coming over.”?

His mother was upset because he was wearing tight pants. “We’re big pants people,” she said.

Many of us didn’t listen to Kevin Meaney’s mom. Now our underwear is showing and our bellies are hanging out.

Weave a New Net

My Nan died in 2001. She raised several foster children, her sister’s six children, and my sister & I. She was the family nursery, day-care, and pre-school.

All the while she was the central hub of an extended family network so complicated that to this day I don’t know how I’m related to half the people I know.

This is the story of Nan’s last days. She was 85-years-old when she passed.

I Don’t Dance

A friend of mine is desperately trying to get the world to stop what it’s doing and dance. Even after my protests he demanded, as “an act of subversion“, that I dance.

He doesn’t understand that it’s going to take a wedding or some booze to get me to do anything more than dancing in the kitchen once the kids have gone to bed.

Don’t Park There

I don’t have many rules, but one of them is don’t park your car where I will hit it. I get into automatic-mode and often back up in my driveway without looking. If you parked behind me, I may hit your car.

If you hide your car from me, you run the risk of getting your car stuck in the mud. Two people did this weekend. At least their cars are still dent-free.

Fucking Midget

This is another one of those stories that makes my wife say, “I’m completely baffled about how you ever attracted a woman.”

This is the true story about a boy, the boy he saw with a mustache, and how I screwed the whole thing up.

This Is Nan

I am the product of a “broken home.” Only I never quite knew it. Nan made sure, somehow, that I had the most normal life a goof-ball boy could have.

She died in 2001. I think about her every day. These are only some of the things that my Nan is.

Retarded Einstein

My wife calls it “Jim’s World.”

It’s a place just outside of the real world where time and space have little relevance. She says I live there and wonders how I ever found employment or attracted a girl. She thinks I’m smart, but says I’m retarded. A true idiot savant.

Where’s the F***ing Remote!?

Uncle Jeff is the family mythologist. He’s the one with all the stories, and he tells them like the old radio guy, Jean Shepherd. (Jean Shepherd is the author and narrator of “A Christmas Story.”) Uncle Jeff once gave me the most beautiful piece of advice a family man could give:

He reached into a hidden compartment in the arm of his lounge chair and pulled out a remote control channel changer, “See this. This is mine. I bought it for me. It’s an extra; no one else can touch it. Buy a spare for yourself.” Uncle Jeff is a brilliant man.

This is the a story about my television remote.