The Kids Are In Bed countdown to 25 years of Tim and Jenni has begun. They started dating on October 8 (Tim’s birthday), 1999, and from now until then, they will be recapping every year and talking about their memories from 1999 to 2024. 1999 brought the end of a century and it ended with a bang. It’s the beginning of the golden age of TV with The Sopranos first season. Teen movies made a comeback with the likes of: Election, Varsity Blues, 10 Things I Hate About You, Cruel Intentions, American Pie, and She’s All That. Napster allowed kids to illegally download all the hits from ‘NSYNC, Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, TLC, and, of course, Smash Mouth. It all ended with unfounded Y2K hysteria.
Tim and Jenni talk about getting to know each other via ICQ and share some stories from the first months of their relationship while Jenni tries to conjure a single memory from the year 1999.
Join Tim and Jenni this week (and every week) as they stroll down memory lane. Well, Tim will anyway, and Jenni will do her best to bring a memory or two. Thanks for being here, thanks for listening, and thanks for being awesome. Cheers!
What do UFOs, dinosaurs, and brunch have in common? Nothing really, but that doesn’t stop Tim and Jenni from discussing all of those topics and more in this week’s episode. Tim and Jenni discuss their close encounter in their hot tub. They then try to figure out what dinosaurs actually looked like. Jenni believes she has discovered her answer to the question – what are your hobbies? Her answer? Brunch. Pour yourself a mimosa and join them for some fun.
Tim made a big mistake and shaved his beard. Jenni and Tim discuss the family’s reaction to this extreme change. They also discuss their weekend getting rid of junk, day drinking, and watching The Masters. They finish things off by diving into their memories (or lack thereof) of infomercials. We’re glad you’re here to laugh with us.
This is shaping up to be a flawless travel day, is my first thought as I step off of the shuttle bus into the drizzle and chilly early spring air at the rental car lot next to the Philadelphia Airport.
As a sports fan, I know better than this. You are not supposed to talk about the perfect game or no-hitter with the pitcher in the dugout, as it guarantees a hit next inning when he’s back up on the mound. When the sportscaster talks about the incredible streak of made shots at the free-throw line, the next shot is sure to clang off the iron.
To be fair, it wasn’t a typical travel day.
My son had been asking to see my sister and their kids in Maryland since we saw them when they came to Minnesota in September. When my wife, Jenni, and I looked at the calendar and discovered Spring Break rolled into Easter this year, it seemed like a fantastic opportunity to book a trip to the East Coast.
We decided it would be fun to surprise our children with the trip when we got to the airport. Lucky for us, our daughter had been asking to go on an airplane… anywhere, so the surprise would land with her just as well as it would with him.
*Advice for parents planning to surprise their children with a trip: don’t pack your suitcase the morning of your flight. Yes, you will easily convince yourself that you aren’t procrastinating. You’ll think you’re preserving the surprise by not leaving the clue of a half-packed suitcase lying around. Unfortunately, this will make you panic every time you hear a noise while packing and cause you to question your mental capacity when you look at the random assortment of clothing in your suitcase when you open it at your final destination.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for a more significant reaction from my children. It’s not as though they weren’t excited, but I was hoping for utter shock. What percentage of people have had the experience of being surprised with a trip to the airport on the day of their departure?
The surprise could be the worst destination in the world, say… Madison, WI, and still, I would be in a puddle of tears if I got surprised with a vacation at the airport.
We checked our suitcase without issue despite Jenni packing a bag for her and my daughter that weighed nearly half as much as their combined body weight.
Security took about ten minutes despite the fact we forgot to take tablets out of two of our carry-ons. We found food the kids and Jenni would eat before the flight, right before the hangry river of rage started to flow out of my wife; the Prosecco helped, too.
If your significant other gets “hangry,” do not ask them, “Are you hungry?” When you notice the hanger level starting to rise. I nearly derailed our trip by making this observation about my wife as we stood in line for pizza.
Our flight was on time, and we landed ahead of schedule. When we got to baggage claim, I immediately saw our overweight suitcase making its loops around the carousel and snagged it.
This is why I had the guts to allow myself to take a breath and pat myself on the back in the rental lot.
I walked over to look at the board to find my name and where my rental card would be parked. Instead of a parking space number next to my name, I saw “see desk.”
Most days, I would have been panicked by this message. On this day, it didn’t occur to me that I could ever have an issue traveling ever again.
I entered the small yet clean rental car office. I waited in a short line to talk to one of two representatives helping other customers.
I gave my name as I approached the kiosk and started to wince in preparation for bad news. After some quick clicking on the keyboard, the woman smiled and said, “You reserved an electric car; that’s why you needed to come in here today.”
I did, in fact, reserve a Tesla. It was a secondary surprise for my son and a treat for me. Before you start calling this a humble brag, I will let you know it cost ten dollars more than renting a Toyota Corolla or “something similar” when I reserved the car.
Once everything was settled, the rental car company representative told me they would immediately pull the car up for me.
My family was waiting on the curb when I joined them.
“Daddy, what if they gave us a Tesla?” My son asked as he saw our car weaving through the parking lot.
“Yeah, I don’t think we will get a Tesla, buddy.”
“Yeah, that would be, like, so expensive.”
I smiled and winked at Jenni as we silently acknowledged how perfect that was for the surprise to land even better.
Moments like those make you forget the whining, the fights, and the worry of having kids. Like a stack of napkins that have been blown to the ground by the wind, some of the moments are carried away before you have a chance to remember they existed; others hit the ground and stay put just long enough for you to bend over and grab them, almost as if they were holding on just for you.
If you’re a parent, chase those moments and stomp them to the ground before the wind whisks them away. Pick it up and shove it into your back pocket with the snot cover tissue and fruit snack wrappers because someday you’ll pull it out. It will be the most valuable napkin you have ever held.
When the Tesla pulled up, my son had the look of shock you’d expect to see on someone who just found out they were going on a flight halfway across the country for Spring Break at the airport.
As we pulled up to the booth at the exit of the rental car lot, the attendant scanned the barcode on the dash and said, “It’s not letting me check you out; there is a problem with the car.”
“What does that mean, ‘there is a problem with the car?'” Jenni whisper-shouted at me from the passenger seat.
Twenty-four and a half years of experience with this woman had taught me that the question was not rhetorical, so I repeated it to the attendant.
“I don’t know. Sometimes, there are errors with the car, but we don’t know what they are until a technician looks at it. Let me call my manager.”
“What the fuck does that even mean? Why would they drive a car up to us that wasn’t working?” Jenni continued from the passenger seat, making sure I was seeing the injustice of the situation we were in, and making sure I didn’t fold to the pressure in an effort to make the interaction as smooth as possible.
Usually, that would be a fair concern. However, I rented this car for my son, who had, just a week earlier, counted every Tesla we saw on the road throughout a thirty-minute drive. Leaving the rental car lot in something other than a Tesla was impossible.
The attendant wrapped up the call with his manager, “Yeah, you are going to have to bring the car back in and pick a new one. Good news, you’re getting a complimentary upgrade to any sedan in that row.”
“This is a Tesla… upgrade… Tesla!” is all I can hear from the whisper-yelling from the passenger seat.
“So, you’re saying there’s a problem with the car, not with my reservation?”
“Right. I know you really want to drive the Tesla, but you’re not going to be able to today.”
I hadn’t said anything about being excited to drive the Tesla, so this comment convinced me I would need to have a conversation with someone else. He directed the line of cars behind me to back up so I could return the vehicle.
“Do you want me to go talk to them?” Jenni asked. I would typically respond with an enthusiastic “yes,” but since going with the flow would have ruined my son’s day, I let her know I would handle it.
I returned to the rental car office and approached the woman who had assisted me the first time. I told her I wasn’t allowed to leave with the Tesla. She looked as confused as I was by this news and told me she would investigate. She went to the back room to discuss the situation with her manager.
I stood in the empty office waiting and rehearsing how I would get ‘tough’ if the answer was anything other than renting us the Tesla when my phone rang. I looked at the screen to see a call from an unknown number in Philadelphia and answered.
“Hi, Mr. Severson. This is Janet with Delta Baggage Services. Did you take the wrong luggage after your flight from Minneapolis today?”
I didn’t have to think about it as I closed my eyes and tilted my face skyward, “Most likely.”
“Have you left the airport, sir?”
“No, I’m at the rental car lot right now, but I can be back as soon as I have my rental car.”
She told me where to go to return the stranger’s suitcase I had in my possession and get my actual suitcase while I apologized profusely.
My anxiety, which is typically paired with my travel, was finally served. I had to jinx it by slowing up before I crossed the finish line and was now facing my punishment.
The woman returned from the back room, and I readied myself for battle. Fortunately for me, there would be no battle as she explained that she had missed a step in renting an electronic vehicle out to me.
As Jenni and our kids had never gotten out, I returned to the car to see “On Rent” written with white car chalk on the two back windows. The attendant from the booth had come around and written this to ensure we didn’t leave the lot in the Tesla. Having that written on both the windows took some fun out of driving it, but I had a suitcase to return.
We parked near the Philadelphia airport’s arrival doors in an area with few cars, hoping no one would walk through to tell Jenni she needed to move the vehicle.
I ran down the sidewalk and through baggage claim like a former Heisman Trophy winner to return the stolen luggage, convinced I was about to get an earful from an Eagles fan.
I found the Delta Baggage office and was relieved not to see anyone obviously waiting on their luggage. I found Janet, who assured me this kind of thing happens all the time.
“You have morons flying in from Minnesota all the time?”
Janet stared at me, not getting my joke. A hand reached from behind me and rolled what I thought was my suitcase away.
I turned and stood face to face with the man whose luggage I had taken. He looked to be in his late twenties. He stared at me with a vacant look. He wasn’t mad, but he didn’t have a look of understanding either.
“I am so unbelievably sorry.”
No change in expression.
I then did something I had never done before in my entire life: I pressed my palms together in front of my chest and started doing these twenty-degree bows as I repeated, “I’m so sorry,” multiple times.
Still nothing.
I was about to turn to Janet to gauge how this interaction was going from a third party’s vantage point. Before I could do that, a younger man leaned his head through the door and, with a thick accent, said, “It’s okay.”
“Are you sure? I’m so sorry, I was trying to figure out where to catch the shuttle for the rental cars and I grabb…”
“It’s. Okay,” the second man interrupted. The other man flashed me a quick grin before he turned, and they walked away.
Turning toward Janet to grab my bag, I said, “I’m just going to get out of this airport before anything else goes wrong.”
“It really happens all the time,” Janet called after me as I walked away.
“I really doubt that,” I said to myself as I began my way back to the rental car with the correct suitcase this time.
People often use hyperbole when discussing what they would do for their children. Parents make statements like, “I’d step in front of a bus for my child” or “I’d take a bullet for my kids,” and I always think: but would you?
It’s not that I am questioning their love. Instead, it’s usually because those statements are uttered after something mundane occurs. It’s easy to claim you’d do anything, but we don’t get to know what we would do until those moments present themselves.
Now, I can tell my kids, honestly, “I would have a stern conversation with a rental car agent for you.”
Because even though it didn’t happen, I was ready. I was prepared to say what needed to be said to ensure my son got to ride in a Tesla.
I had a short time to come up with what I would say, and it was good. If said with the correct tone of voice, I would have gotten the Tesla and most likely gotten a discount. It’s a short statement that is to the point and could get me out of even the stickiest of situations.
Since I didn’t use it, I figured here is as good a place as any to share it:
Tim and Jenni are back from Spring Break! They kick off this week’s episode by discussing the eclipse that captured the world’s attention. Tim shares how he didn’t really care, and Jenni explains how she didn’t know precisely where Arkansas was and the ACTs. They recap their trip out east to Maryland and their impressions of “The City of Brotherly Love,” Philadelphia. The show ends with a beautiful musical number.
On November 6, 2015, the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council (NHDSC) announced an official policy I do not relish.
“Limiting the hot dog’s significance by saying it’s ‘just a sandwich’ category is like calling the Dalai Lama’ just a guy. We, therefore, choose to take a cue from a great performer and declare our namesake be a “hot dog formerly known as a sandwich,” the former NHDSC President and ‘Queen of Wien,’ Janet Riley, said in her statement.
It is unclear if Ms. Riley is still going by her royal title, as her X (formerly Twitter) account (@queenofwien) has not shown activity hot dog related or otherwise since October 2023.
She addressed the USDA’s guidance that the hot dog, as meat between bread, falls into the sandwich category, saying, “While we thank the USDA for their careful regulation and inspection of our products, regulatory brevity is not their strength. We hope our position offers Americas some clarity and peace of mind.”
The USDA is to brevity as Ms. Riley is to picking Twitter handles. It saddens me to think of the people who thought they had finally found their kink fix on the internet, only to find another mouthpiece for ‘Big Hot Dog.’ Furthermore, it isn’t shocking to see the NHDSC thumbing its nose at the rules and regulations of the federal department in charge of keeping our food products safe for consumption.
Sandwich, as defined by Merriam-Webster, when used as a noun: a. Two or more slices of bread or a split roll having a filling in between. b. One slice of bread covered with food. Or, as a verb, to make a place for —> often used with in or between.
Those definitions should have been, and should be, enough. Unfortunately, NHDSC decided they were better equipped than both Merriam and Webster. The hubris is overwhelming.
An argument could be made that the shape of the hot dog is the basis of its not fitting into the sandwich category. Anyone who has run out of hot dog buns knows the pain of what to do from here. Using two slices of bread is a non-starter as there is too much bread. Slicing up the hot dog into small, evenly sized pieces to be laid out with even distribution on the bread is too much work. After all, the one-handed convenience of the hot dog is a big part of its appeal. Who doesn’t love a one-handed sandwich, ya know?
Sooner or later, we all end up with the same solution. We take a single slice of bread, roll it around the hot dog like a faux bun, and eat it with considerably less enjoyment. This is the only scenario where we yearn for more crust. Adults and kids, it doesn’t matter; we all wish for more crust. The butts of the loaf of bread plead for us to use them just this one time, yet we hear nothing.
The shape argument would be solid if it weren’t for the fact we have been letting the hot dog’s Italian cousin, the meatball, squirt out the bottom of our meatball… sandwiches. That’s right; the meatball is the more diverse and delicious of the spherically shaped meats, so there is no issue with being known as part of the sandwich community. As a matter of fact, they saw ham, salami, and pepperoni making a scene in the sandwich community and said, “Hold my balls,” as they jumped in with a swagger.
The argument could be made that the bun hinge takes it out of the sandwich category since it is not two pieces of bread as long as the hinge holds strong. Entertaining this notion, however, means we must mention the fast-food chain with the most locations in the United States: Subway.
Anyone who was sandwich-eating age in the early otts or prior and went to Subway may remember the U-Gouge. The U-Gouge technique removed the top of the bread, leaving behind what looked like an oversized hot dog bun, which held in the sandwich ingredients more efficiently. Subway used this sandwich-cutting method for forty years before transitioning to the hinge-cut method.
According to Subway, a poll of their customers found that 97% preferred the hinge cut to the U-Gouge method. In no way am I trying to suggest that the NHDSC had anything to do with the results of this poll. However, I defy you to find a topic on which you could find a representative sample of Americans who agree so overwhelmingly on any subject.
Is it possible the groundwork was laid a decade before the NHDSC’s controversial announcement? Did they want to see the hinge cut become standard, knowing the thin hinge of the bread would rarely stay intact over the entire time of sandwich consumption, resulting in separate pieces of bread so we would be conditioned to lay down and accept the outlandish claim that a hot dog served in a bun is not a sandwich?
There used to be a bar called Williams in the Uptown neighborhood of Minneapolis. They kept a hot dog cart inside the front door for late-night eats. One of their specialty hot dogs was a Reuben Dog. Many nights in my mid- to late twenties, the Reuben Dog saved my life.
I told my friends I was going to the restroom one night at Williams. I waited until the right moment to make my break to the hot dog cart. I ordered a Reuben Dog, went out into the frigid night, and ate my Reuben Dog in the dark alley next to the bar. What happened between me and the Reuben Dog that night transcended eating; it was as close as I’ll get to a one-night stand in this lifetime. However, halfway through my… experience, the remaining half of my hot dog squirted out the end of the bun, landing on the snow and salt-covered ground. After a brief stare-down with the hot dog lying seductively on the ground, I decided it would not be prudent to observe the “five-second rule” and ate the remainder of what was left.
What was left?
Bread, corned beef, Swiss cheese, sauerkraut, and thousand island dressing, otherwise known as a Reuben sandwich.
The NHDSC’s haughtiness suggests that the mere act of adding a hot dog changes the classification of a classic and revered sandwich, such as the Reuben borders on criminal.
Speaking of classic sandwiches, we must discuss the ultimate classic American sandwich: the hamburger. You know, the beef responsible for all the juice and cheese in the empty space on the platter next to the hot dogs at every barbecue you’ve ever been to in the United States. It’s the place where we all look with disappointment before we say, “I guess I’ll just have a hot dog.”
This is the root of the NHDSC’s official policy. Barbecue after barbecue, cookout after cookout, hot dogs get left to cool to room temperature as hungry people scoop up the self-assured hamburger instead of the vain, self-conscious hot dogs. Eventually, those hot dogs are blanketed under a loose piece of plastic wrap and placed in the refrigerator as they await their journey to their final destination: the garbage.
Being eternally second place is challenging. People often refer to second place as the first loser, so understandably, the NHDSC got frustrated.
The NHDSC should have declared loud and clear that a hot dog is, in fact, a sandwich—and not just any sandwich, but the most unique and versatile sandwich in the world. There is no end to the different ways a hot dog can be elevated into a delicious sandwich. It’s an unfortunate missed opportunity for the hot dog.
Claiming to be something it isn’t is like someone quitting their job and claiming they’re a writer. If we are honest, it comes off as sad and a bit desperate.
As spring turns to summer and baseball season begins the opportunities to enjoy the classic American hot dog grow. I encourage you to take a stand. Do not let big hot dog influence how you classify the dish. Instead, whether ordering at a baseball game or making your choice at your Memorial Day barbecue, I encourage you to say proudly, “I’ll have a hot dog sandwich, please.”
Kids… did I ever tell you about the time Tim and Jenni finally weighed in on which sitcom is better in a heavyweight, seven-round battle between Friends and How I Met Your Mother? Be warned that this episode contains SPOILERS in case you were looking to binge either of these for the first time. Tim and Jenni compare everything from the pilot episodes to the finales and everything in between. If you need a laugh, you should know that we’ll be there for you when the rain starts to pour.
This week, Tim and Jenni talk about the early spring blizzard in Minnesota. Then it’s time to get wild because it’s Spring Break 2024! Tim and Jenni talk about their plan to surprise their kids at the airport with a trip to Maryland to visit Tim’s sister. Then they talk about airports and airplanes: when to arrive to the airport for your flight, traveling with kids, Jenni getting through TSA, and Tim’s biggest airplane passenger pet peeve. They talk about their vacation plans, and Jenni reveals just how much she loves Old Bay. We appreciate you being here! Don’t forget to subscribe.
“We can all agree that people who use bar soap in the shower are psychopaths, right?” I asked my friends Jenna and Terrence.
After getting showered and ready for the day, these were the first words out of my mouth when I sat down at the breakfast table while on vacation last year with a few other families. I have never had a strong opinion on body wash versus bar soap. However, when I sat down at the table, nobody was talking, and I felt the need to fill the two seconds of silence thanks to my social anxiety.
“I use bar soap in the shower,” Terrence said, staring at me with contempt aimed at making me uncomfortable.
I should have seen it coming. I should have known not to talk about anything related to the shower in public. It’s where all of my previous embarrassments come out to play. Something about the warm water and the vacant shower wall prompts my brain to play a highlight reel of all the things I have done to embarrass myself, like every time I have introduced myself to someone I have already met, for example.
Of course, I did my best to walk back my question by asking thoughtful questions about the merits of using bar soap. It didn’t matter that I was talking to an old friend who knew my proclivity for being awkward.
After a few months of beating myself up mentally in the shower, every time I squeezed the blue gel from my oversized Old Spice body wash bottle into my hand for saying what I said, we were invited for dinner at Jenna and Terrence’s home. When we arrived, Terrence handed me a small gift bag. Inside was a bar of soap from Baxter of California.
I have been using bar soap every morning since May 28, 2023.
Hi, I’m Tim, and I am a people-pleaser.
Let’s get on the same page with what that means:
“The people pleaser needs to please others for reasons that may include fear of rejection, insecurities, the need to be well-liked. If he stops pleasing others, he thinks everyone will abandon him; he will be uncared for and unloved. Or he may fear failure; if he stops pleasing others, he will disappoint them, which he thinks will lead to punishment or negative consequences.”
Reading that description feels like a punch in the right testicle because if you change the “he’s” with Tim, it reads like a summary of my personality. However, I take exception to the underlying negative tone.
It’s easy for the world’s non-people-pleasers to speak about us as though we are doormats who need to stand up for ourselves, learn to say ‘no,’ and set clear boundaries. They assume everything about the people-pleasers way is wrong.
Synchronicity (see: Carl Jung) popped up as I began working on this piece when a friend posted a meme regarding people pleasing on her Instagram story. I sent her a message asking her why I should stop being a people pleaser. I am simplifying the way I asked the question for brevity.
This is what it looks like when my social anxiety takes the wheel as I attempt to ask a simple question:
I am a neurotic mess.
“I think people pleasing becomes dangerous when you lose yourself. There’s an aspect of being able to be supportive and accommodating to the people around you, but when it goes too far, I feel like people lose themselves. Like if I am doing something only because I know it’ll make other people happy but it actually makes me uncomfortable or upset, then I feel like I’m doing more mental and psychological damage to myself than I would just saying no.”
It’s hard to believe I could get such an insightful response from a rambling question. Still, I have always been good at surrounding myself with intelligent people.
Her words have been playing on a loop in my brain since I read them.
I can trace many things I love in this life back to a moment someone could classify as people-pleasing.
One afternoon recently, after I did something my wife would classify as people-pleasing, I stopped her and said, “I don’t think you understand that almost everything I do in my life is for you.”
She explained how ridiculous that concept is, but I don’t think she, or anyone else for that matter, can understand how happy it makes me to make other people happy. It doesn’t matter if it is through a grandiose gesture or even something mundane, like holding doors.
When we started living together, she still loved Gray’s Anatomy. Me? Not so much, until I realized I didn’t like leaving the room when she would turn it on. So, I started it from the beginning and was hooked after two episodes. We watched it for as long as we could tolerate—probably too long.
If I hadn’t liked it, I would have watched it all the same because my person (IYKYK, Gray’s Anatomy fans) was happy to have me join her in watching something that made her happy, which, in turn, made me happy. The fact that I liked it was a bonus.
In college, I had a roommate who was (still is) obsessed with the Minnesota Twins. I learned of his obsession while watching the Twins lose to the New York Yankees in the ALDS in 2004.
I played baseball as a kid and liked watching a game occasionally. Still, I never described myself as a “baseball fan.” Desperate to make a friend out of a roommate, I listened intently as he broke down the games between obscenities being hurled at Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez. This led to late-night tutorials about pitching mechanics, swing mechanics, and manager strategies I pretended to be interested in.
Fast-forward to me refreshing the ESPN website repeatedly in my room the following winter to see what moves the Twins would make during free agency.
One could argue that becoming a Twins fan in 2004 is a perfect demonstration of people-pleasing causing me to be uncomfortable and upset as it was the infancy of what would become a historical post-season losing streak to the Yankees. However, I used their excessive losing to my advantage by using it against the person who got me into this mess by reminding him incessantly about every failure, no matter how small, which also fills me with joy.
I could go on with examples like those mentioned above. So many things in my life make me happy that I could have missed out on if I had given in to my initial instinct to say ‘no.’
I allowed the analytical side of my brain to understand what people-pleasing is, and I placed myself in a box I didn’t fit.
Sometimes, there can be too much self-analyzing; sometimes, therapy can push you in the wrong direction. I may be a people-pleaser. There might be something in my past that may force me to serve others’ happiness before mine, but naming it and calling it negative is short-sighted. If everyone involved leaves happy, does the order they got there really matter?
I say no. If I lived that way, I’d spend most of my life alone because when opportunities arise, my gut instinct is to decline for any of a long list of trite reasons and stay home by myself. Giving in to that instinct would lead to an entirely new set of diagnoses that may or may not be accurate.
Join Tim and Jenni for some laughs on Episode 7 of The Kids Are In Bed. They recall some stories from their most recent date night: live music, trivia, and Tim being awkward. Then, they direct their attention to this week’s topic: Driving. The pair discuss driving pet peeves, Jenni’s abysmal driving record, and Tim’s alleged traffic violation. Thanks for being here. Don’t forget to subscribe to one (or both) of the links below!
