Oh, Schmidt! If you’re not watching New Girl on Fox, then you’re missing out on one of TV’s best new characters: Schmidt.
If you’ve had more than five guy friends in your life, chances are you’ve known a Schmidt. Sure, perhaps his Bar Mitzvah theme was not Sports Jams, maybe he wasn’t even Jewish at all, and it’s a safe bet he probably wasn’t afraid of a cat raised by birds that lived on the roof of your building, but we’ve all known a douchey brohan with a heart of gold.
So, what makes a Schmidt, a Schmidt exactly? The Schmidt in your life will have a proclivity for shortening words in bizarre and somewhat adorable ways: a platter of sushi would be identified by such monikers as fatty tune, yellow T, and Cali rolls. A cardigan becomes a cardi, scrumptious becomes scrummy, totally equals totes.
Your Schmidt most likely refers to himself in third person at least once a day, and if possible, incorporates some aspect of his name into a catchphrase or slogan, such as: “Schmidt happens!” or “You got some Schmidt on your face!” or possibly “It’s time for your morning Schmidt.”
Your Schmidt don’t stink. In fact, he’s at least somewhat obsessed over his own personal appearance. In the summer he tans on your roof, and in the winter he goes to a tanning bed, but only because he has this skin thing, and keeping a good base-tan really helps it out. He’s probably attempted a colon cleanse, taken Bolivian diet pills, or used an FDA banned organ slimming supplement. He’s fit, and as a result feels the need to be shirtless as often as possible. Your Schmidt is always abreast of current fashion trends and possesses an overall good sense of style. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was constantly making aware his intention to hook up with everyone’s girlfriends, you may mistake him as gay.
In fact, your Schmidt may display a disconcerting lack of discomfort toward male nudity. Upon learning that all of his friends have seen his best friend naked, he may somehow feel entitled to see that friend naked. He may play it off as a joke, but a Schmidt is always aware of his ranking in regards to his friends, and he never wants to miss any experience that may create a unique bond, even if it’s awkward.
“What if he gets into an accident? What if he’s horribly disfigured, and I have to identify him, and all that remains are his private parts? I’m standing there, I’m saying, “Sorry, officer, I can’t help you, because no, I haven’t seen his penis.” An then boom, he’s buried in an unmarked grave.” – Schmidt
Your Schmidt probably appears to take himself pretty seriously, however, underneath all of his faux-suavity, self-interest, and womanizing behavior there stands a much simpler man. A fully grown man that lives with roommates, has a stupid job, and whose best friend won’t even let him see his penis.
And therein lies the thinly veiled secret of Schmidts the world over: despite their larger than life personalities, over the top theatrics, and blatant douche-baggery, they’re people just like you and me. They love their friends, have strained family relationships, wrestle with insecurities, etc. We love our Schmidty friends because, if we’re honest, they remind us a bit of ourselves.
After all, there’s a little piece of Schmidt in each of us.
12 thoughts on “About Schmidt”
Not gonna lie though, I like Schmidt a lot more than my roommate I had in college that was very similar to Schmidt.
I hear that. I’ve never lived with a Schmidt, but I enjoy having one around.
Stanton Martin is my Schmidt.
I just keep thinking of that Nicki Minaj song, but changing it to: “Schmidt’d on ’em.”
Ok, I skimmed this because I don’t watch much TV (only Netflix, you know!) but I cracked up when you said that you drive the ice cream van of the internet. It is so true! I’d like a double scoop, please…
I Shmidt you not, the G-Boat is on fire in 2012. Sweet post, Stanton. I wanted there to be a “like” button on multiple sentences on this post (can you please edit it so this is the case?) so I could blow up your notifications tab. New girl is killing, and yeah, Schmidt is stealing Zoey’s thunder for sure.
Thanks, Stephen! Unfortunately I don’t know how to add Like buttons to individual sentences, or trust me, there would be about a bajillion in each of my posts. If you want to blow up my notifications tab though, feel free to go comment on every post on my blog. Yes, that was a shameless plug.
Sounds like a party. I’m on that. As in I will “get right on that.”
How did I miss this? I was probably too busy looking for my driving moccasins. Badump!
Thank you, and good night.
(You know I share your affection for Schmidt. What a GEM.)
I basically wrote this for you.
La mayoría viene de todo, usted será capaz de construir
nuevos objetos y tesoros infinitos en el deporte.