The Sound of One Hand Clapping

Paul McCartney at Yankee Stadium; Setlist and Video for 7/16/11

2011-07-17T01:45:00.015-04:00

So I haven't posted in approximately forever, but you'll get over it. As I sometimes do, I am throwing up the setlist for another concert before I go to bed. Tonight's show was fantastic and I may blog about it later, but for now, here's what was played:

PAUL McCARTNEY
YANKEE STADIUM, NEW YORK CITY
JULY 16, 2011

SET:
Magical Mystery Tour
Jet
All My Loving
Junior's Farm
Drive My Car
Sing The Changes
The Night Before
Let Me Roll It (w/"Foxey Lady" coda, written by Jimi Hendrix)
Paperback Writer
The Long and Winding Road
1985
Let 'Em In
Maybe I'm Amazed
I'm Looking Through You
I Will
Blackbird
Here Today
Dance Tonight
Mrs. Vanderbilt
Eleanor Rigby
Something (written by George Harrison)
Band On The Run
Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da
Back in the U.S.S.R.
I've Got A Feeling
A Day In The Life w/Give Peace a Chance
Let It Be
Live and Let Die
Hey Jude

Encore I:
Lady Madonna
I Saw Her Standing There (featuring Billy Joel)
Get Back

Encore II:
Yesterday
Helter Skelter
Golden Slumbers
Carry That Weight
The End

All songs composed by John Lennon & Paul McCartney, Paul McCartney, or Paul & Linda McCartney, except "Sing the Changes" (McCartney/Youth), "Give Peace a Chance" (John Lennon), and where noted.

These aren't my seats (I wish) but here's some HD video:

Video shared by YouTube user BillyJoelVideos.

...But Instead, We Get Skins

2011-04-19T11:11:00.001-04:00

Everyone loves Twitter (except me, I suppose). Everyone loves music videos. Everyone loves trivia. If all of this is true, then why hasn't Pop-Up Video made a comeback yet?

Where are you?

An Open Letter to the Dude Sitting in Front of Me at the Cafe

2011-03-14T20:21:00.007-04:00

Dude! Wake up!! Ahhh. You're bombing so hard. If this is a first date, you're on strike #7 (note: not the "bowling" kind). I want to boo you. She's gorgeous. Stop talking so much about yourself. Ask her about her!

Photo unrelated.

What does she like doing? How was her day? What is her family doing now? How is Uncle Herbert, that crazy guy? If she could quit her job right now and run off somewhere, where would she go and what would she do? If she could be a breakfast cereal, what breakfast cereal would she be (and why)? Ask her about her favorite train. Comment on the people outside the window and ask her where she thinks they are headed in such a hurry. Ask her about her "Welcome to New York" moment. She's got Amanda Seyfried eyes and all you can talk about is your dopey friend's last semester? Gah.

Ack!

If this were a LiveJournal, my song of the day would be "You're Gonna Lose That Girl" and my current mood would be "wicked frustrated".

Ending Sentences With Prepositions is Seriously Uncalled For

2011-03-10T20:01:00.001-05:00

Really, what's that about? It's a hard habit to get out of. Even worse: sometimes you meet someone who is finely attuned to this grammatical conversational error and--in case you couldn't guess--they are very difficult people to have a conversation with.

And don't even get me started when it comes to sentences that begin with conjunctions.

An Ode to the Abandoned Tuxedo Pants I Found on the Sidewalk Today

2011-03-09T21:47:00.007-05:00

Upon the occasion of discovering a pair of black tuxedo pants lying on the side of the road:

O Tuxedo Pants, quickly cast astrewn
Why hath thy master forsaken ye here?
A leg on the sidewalk, th'other the street--
Languished luxury lying listlessly.
A grievous offense could'st I not conceive
As fair cause for thy careless discarding
(If indeed such a sin slacks could commit).
Didst thou meet the pavement from an ill fit--
Too few or too many doughnuts consumed?
Didst thy get the toss in (dare I speak it)
A frightful and furious fit of lust?
Encounter with a lady of the night?
Sudden necessity to disrobe quick?
Swelt'ring heat promoting thy removal?
Truly? Pants on the ground. Pants on the ground.
Forgotten adjustable-waist trousers,
Smold'ring in the heat of the sunlit day,
Embrace thy strange rest; thou shalt strut no more--
'Less a de-pantsed gentlemen find thee here,
Praise his fortuitous turn, and get dressed.

Plants and Birds and Rocks and Things

2011-03-09T21:14:00.001-05:00

One of my aunt's favorite stories comes from driving around with me in the front seat listening to the radio. I was much younger then--probably about seven. America's song "A Horse With No Name" was on the radio and we were talking about the lyrics. After hearing the chorus, I asked her (with the utmost sincerity) why they didn't just give the horse a name. She laughed and repeated the story to the rest of our family, who found my query equally comical. The thing is, she still thinks that this is really, really funny for some reason. Meanwhile, I'm still don't see why what I said was humorous, and I still don't understand why they didn't just give the horse a name and be done with it already.

What am I missing here?

Adventures in Education, Chapter 21

2011-03-05T16:54:00.006-05:00

First week on the job
Gr.6 tutor/substitute teacher

What I've attempted to teach:
Compare and Contrast
Author's purpose
Place values
Factoring
Potential and Kinectic Energy
Commutative and Associative Properties
Separating fact from opinion
Theme
Tone

What I've been asked to clarify:
What happened to your lip?
What's a cleft lip?
Did it hurt?
Does it hurt now?
How many surgeries did you have?
Do you remember?
Wait, can you grow a mustache?
Would that hurt?
Do people ask you about it a lot?
Oh.

Open Notes to Persons in and around a Park Slope Coffee Shop

2011-03-05T16:25:00.009-05:00

Preface: This is the third installment in my Open Notes series, where I talk to people around me but on my blog because I lack the guts/interest/pickup lines necessary to actually converse with other people.

"Art of Unknown Origin Stolen for Blog"; Anonymous, Oil on Canvas, 1997

This evening, after a particularly erratic day of substitute teaching in Manhattan, I returned to lovely Brooklyn and strolled over to a distinctive coffee joint in the quaint yet eminently mockable neighborhood of Park Slope. People here are known for being liberal, wealthy(ish), and trendy, and most residents struggle to hide their often overwhelming whiteness. My neighborhood is no slouch, but this part of town is most certainly out of my price bracket. Thus, while it may be a perfectly pleasant place to reside, it's easier and more self-assuring to ruthlessly rend it asunder with smug keystrokes while chuckling about how intellectually superior and more worldly I am.

To my roommate: Spot me a few bucks? Cool.

To the chipper barista girl: You're adorable, but I really do think that your hat falls under the "trying too hard" category. It probably looked stylish on the wooden rack at the second-hand store next to the other second-hand store where that better second-hand store used to be, but you don't need a hat indoors. However, I have a long history of falling for waitresses and female bar staff, so I'm going to let it slide.

To Customer #7: Whoever told you that beard looked good was lying through their java-stained teeth. When you trim the edges every morning for that perfectly symmetrical look, do you use a ruler? A protractor, maybe? Also, this morning routine must give you ample time to consider your beard at length. Apparently, you still think it's worth it.

To the freeloading suit who walked in, sat down, went to work on his laptop, and didn't buy anything: Don't worry about it. Wi-fi should be free. Hey, I'm sure you voted for universal public health care, too.

To literally four other customers who have entered since I started: Please explain to me the appeal of offbeat hats and poor facial hair decisions. Please. I'm so lost.

To Customer #15: You are cute. Please look at me again now that I'm sitting up straight.

To Customer #15's boyfriend: I will fight you right in the face.

To Rota Fortunae: Why do girls go out with clowns like him? What is it? I see more girls hanging off the shoulder of slouchy, half-awake, vacant looking dudes who kind of just stand there consuming oxygen. What are you contributing to the relationship, guy? You look like the kind of person who hopes McDonald's makes home deliveries. It's very perplexing.

To Wikipedia: Whoa. "Rota Fortunae"? Thanks, Wikipedia! I sound so cultured and smart.

To the insufferable mouthpiece behind me: Keep talking. I find it fascinating that you could "know" so much about so many things and yet state everything in the simplest terms possible. Call me crazy, but does it occur to you that most political issues and social science-related events are just a little bit more on the complex side? Listening to you explain it all--with scoffs to spare--is nauseating. The groans! The sighs! If eye rolling made a sound, I'm pretty sure that I just heard it. Were you planning on giving a chance to either of the ladies accompanying you? They may want to speak at some point. I know that you think that you're intelligent and sophisticated and miles ahead of the other lemmings you are forced to associate with, but there's a reason that some individuals become famous talk show hosts or essay writers while others sit in coffee shops pontificating. You suck.

To the girl blogging two tables away: I have no idea what you're writing about, but I will preemptively propose a truce.

To whoever wrote this "How to Piss Off a Park Slope Resident" viral blog post: Good show!

To the bro who almost walked in with his acoustic guitar: No! Get out!! NO ONE LIKES YOU!! WHATEVER ARTIST YOU ASPIRE TO BE LIKE SUCKS, TOO! Sorry about the caps. Typed too hard again.

To management: Please play something other than Adele. It's been like an hour and forty five minutes. C'mon.

To the Mac user next to me: You have literally nine applications running and you're flipping through them seamlessly; meanwhile, I attempted to open iTunes and my laptop reacted like I jammed a butter knife into the USB port. This is stupid. PCs are stupid. Any computer I ever buy is stupid.

To my snarkier readers: Not stupid by association. Just stupid.

To the lower-middle-class, blue-collar local making a modest wage who came in and ordered a... nah, just kidding. He's not allowed to live here.

To the cafe business at large: Why is decaf iced coffee impossible to find? No one has it and I don't understand that. If I wanted a decaf hot coffee, I would have made it at home. Decaf iced coffee isn't even hard to stock--just double brew a pot and refrigerate it. It stays good for days! There's no excuse, service industry. Step it up.

Hey, How About A Real Post Already?

2011-02-11T13:36:00.002-05:00

No.

Continuing a theme of posting other people's stuff, this was my pick for most underrated Super Bowl commercial. The attention to detail (which shows took place where, and which characters would root for them) is phenomenal, and whoever worked on the CGI deserves a raise. For most of the clips, you can't even tell that the apparel was added in (except I believe the Seinfeld and Newman scene actually happened).

Very well done. However, the NFL will still be the No Fun League until creative touchdown celebrations like Maurice Jones-Drew's "ATM Withdrawal" and Wes Welker's "Snow Angel" aren't fined anymore. The decision to fine a player should be determined by a one man panel of Shannon Sharpe, and should be strictly based on whether or not the celebration was funny. I feel strongly about this.

At Least It Wasn't "Ebony and Ivory"...

2011-02-10T19:54:00.000-05:00

I don't watch the show, but I'm stunned that "Glee" could take "Silly Love Songs" to the top of the charts in 2011. What a strange world we live in.

The Awkward Strikes Back

2011-02-04T13:46:00.000-05:00

Source: The Oatmeal, who or which has a book out soon.

Mystery Number

2011-02-01T20:47:00.004-05:00


Better question: Why post this	?

Not that I'm proud to admit it, but last Saturday night is a little fuzzy. Perhaps blogging about how lame I was for the 200th time led me to overdo it, but whatever the cause... let's just say there's some haze.

At any rate, there is a mystery number in my phone, and I don't know who it belongs to or what I would say if I called it. The area code is from New Jersey. I suppose I could call it and ask them to spell their name out for my contacts list, but then if her name is Mary Smith, I will feel stupid. Then again, I feel stupid anyway. Also, she might not have met the real me. Also, she might be a dude.

I need a plan. What if she's the one?

Shameless Joke Theft

2011-01-24T18:34:00.004-05:00

Emmy Rossum (from Showtime's Shameless) tells a joke for Esquire magazine. At the end, she slips in another one real fast, but it's one I feel like I've heard before. Somewhere.

I have attractive readers! Souped.

Short Hits for The BEST NIGHT EVER

2011-01-22T00:30:00.005-05:00

Woo!

Generally speaking, I only use all caps when I'm being sarcastic. Or if I type really hard.

In this case, it's sarcasm because I live in a tourist destination and I'm staying in watching late night standup on Comedy Central. No, see all of my friends are busy. Really. REALLY! Sorry, typed too hard.

This seemed like an appropriate time to fire off a post. The following items could probably be full entries but I don't have the attention span to flesh them out. Here we go.

- Last week I was looking up peer-reviewed research articles in the library (why, yes, ladies... I am single, how did you...?) and typed in the terms "student teaching" and "classroom discourse" for my project. I click on the most promising article, and the first two categories for this article are, I kid you not, 1) "student teaching", and 2) "social isolation". Yup. Sounds about right.

- Just ran to the bodega to buy some root beer (it's how I roll) and paid in spare change (mostly dimes) and realized (not for the first time) that (in addition to using parentheses) I love paying in change. It really does feel like you got your stuff for free.

- To be a student teacher in NYC, you have to schlep on over to Downtown Brooklyn and get fingerprinted. This is so they can weed out the weirdo candidates that are criminals or bad finger-painters or lack hands. After the privilege of having your fingers sqashed onto a scanner, one by one, you then get slammed with a $115 fee. Yes, a buck fifteen, but sadly not a buck fifteen. $115. Yet, if I had committed some dumb crime like, say, jaywalking with intent to launder, I would get fingerprinted for free. Not okay, New York. Not okay.

- Apropos of nothing, the comedian in the 11:00 timeslot (wow, it's that late already) tried to make a joke about how Mexican girls are always pregnant, and the crowd shut him down. Really. Audible boos and groans. Then he makes a joke about how the audience wants to play "The Real World is Not Real" game, and adds a few more dime-a-dozen stereotypes, and still they don't take the bait with a sympathy laugh. It was almost inspiring, but then he told a joke about midgets and the audience ate it up. So much for that.

My whip.

- Next comedian made fun of a Honda Civic. Maybe he was making fun of himself for not being able to afford one? I don't get it. I really like my first car.

- There might be worse feelings than checking your phone on a Friday night and seeing no texts and no missed calls, but I'm not sure what those feelings are.


Check out this Dylan guy. Real up and comer.

- I enjoy having very specific music tastes and distastes. For example, I'm generally pretty ambivalent about classical music, but I really, really like Tchaikovsky, and I really don't like Vivaldi at all. A jazz example: Totally dig hard bop but I can't get into fusion. I like early Chicago, mid-period Steely Dan, Motown around 1965, and one Pink Floyd song (ten points if you guess which one). Especially unique--I like Bob Dylan's latest stuff way, way better than his famous stuff (except "Just Like A Woman"--which is awesome).


"Sorry that my carrots are limp."

- There have been so many previews for "No Strings Attached" that I feel like I've seen 30-40 minutes of the film. It's this year's "Dinner for Schmucks" or "Due Date" in that it is so overexposed already, there can't be anything left in the film worth seeing. Not that I was going to see it anyway. This is too bad, because I find Ludacris to be a legitimately funny actor. Or at least a funny dude.

- Great joke that's worth repeating:
Q: What happens when you play a country song backwards?
A: He gets his dog back, his truck back, and his girl back.

Wow, I just live-blogged a night on the couch. So proud. Goodnight, more popular people.

An Open Letter to the Middle-Aged, Paunchy Dude Sitting Across from Me at the Library

2011-01-09T22:10:00.005-05:00

Come on, man. Even
kids know this stuff.

Thanks for your ongoing effort to cough all over the keyboard. Don't cover your mouth or anything. I think I'm literally nauseous.

Just know that if I didn't take Vitamin C every day, drink a ridiculous amount of orange juice, and have a public-school-tested immune system, I'd probably throw a can of Lysol at your head. Bathe thyself, inconsiderate germ distributor, and begone with thee already.

Never Let You Go

2010-12-30T22:18:00.011-05:00

When I was your age, kids, the radio played stuff that was worth listening to. It was actually a regular part of my day and I heard a lot of it between 4:00 and 7:00 during my first wave of homework. There were actual bands and they got actual airtime. Some of this music could even be described as rock or alternative. This is shocking, I know, and I'm showing my age.

Around the year 2000, there was one station in the Boston market that did a phenomenal job of playing these bands. Tune into Mix 98.5 (WBMX) and you could hear (with some regularity) the Barenaked Ladies, Vertical Horizon, Third Eye Blind, Sister Hazel, and Matchbox Twenty.

Though the suits in the biz would clinically describe this music as "Modern Rock" and eventually "Modern Adult Contemporary", these bands were rock bands. Sure, songs like "If You're Gone" and the Goo Goo Dolls' "Iris" would end up becoming shopping mall music staples--loved by moms everywhere--but the vast majority of singles and radio hits from these bands were enjoyable and made life a whole lot better in middle school.

Then something terrible happened. Suddenly, radio stations were all up and changing their formats and crap (because, really, who listens to the radio anymore?) and Top 40 was everywhere. The niche for a station that played rock songs with thoughtful lyrics and jangly guitars evaporated. Mix 98.5 went with this wave and a small part of me was lost on the day the music died (I believe the exact moment was the day that they played Madonna's "American Pie").

I decided, ten years on, to make a mix CD compiling my favorite songs from back in the day (8th grade, 9th grade, and 10th grade), and my track list is contained here. I bypassed the obvious title choice ("The Mix Mix") as well as more accurate ones ("Buzz Ballads 3") for the blandest one imaginable ("The Mix 98.5 Throwback CD").

Behold:

Everything You Want - Vertical Horizon

Slide - The Goo Goo Dolls

She's So High - Tal Bachman

Last Beautiful Girl - Matchbox Twenty

Change Your Mind - Sister Hazel

Absolutely (Story of a Girl) - Nine Days

You're a God - Vertical Horizon

Pinch Me - Barenaked Ladies

The Space Between - Dave Matthews Band

Bent - Matchbox Twenty

Broadway - The Goo Goo Dolls

If I Had $1,000,000 (live) - Barenaked Ladies

Never Let You Go - Third Eye Blind

Desert Rose - Sting

Sweetest Thing - U2

Drive - Incubus

Hanging by a Moment - Lifehouse

Save Me From Myself - Vertical Horizon

Ghost in the Crowd - Sister Hazel

NOTES:
- I had been mulling over this CD for some time, and repeatedly told my friend (a fellow listener and fan from back in the day) that I was about to make one. We listened to this on the way into Boston last night and it was fantastic to hear these tracks again. These songs were there and played loudly when I was finding myself, falling for the girl, getting over the girl, and discovering singing and writing. They mean a lot to me.

- This is not a comprehensive cover of this period in music, but rather a conscious effort to compile my favorite songs from then (minus the extra slow or sad ones--"Best I Ever Had (Grey Sky Morning)" for example). I didn't listen to Radiohead or the Foo Fighters then so they aren't there. Also, after this phase, I more or less stopped listening to the radio and got a little too into classic rock.

- Considering that most of the tracks here have a "pop" vibe, I was surprised to recall the quality of the lyrics. It was especially interesting to hear VH's "I've been unable to put you down/I'm still learning things I oughta know by now" and realize that, a decade later, I still feel that way.

- As a tenth grader, I was certain that if you sang "Slide" to any one girl, she'd have to fall in love with you and be yours forever. "Put your arms around me/What you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful". I'm still about 45% sure that this would work.

- "Never Let You Go" has appeared on pretty much every other mix CD I've ever made, and I can play a serviceable version on guitar at college parties when people have been drinking. It's a dark horse for "Favorite Song from the Last 12 or 13 Years" (a category I just made up now).

- Except it might actually be "Falling For the First Time" from the Barenaked Ladies, which I cannot believe was left off. Other notable omissions include "Semi-Charmed Life" (overexposure), "Mad Season" (forgot), "Kryptonite" (also forgot), and "All For You" (reminds me of my college a cappella group). I think I would swap out "Desert Rose" and "Sweetest Thing" for "Kryptonite" and "Mad Season" because they better fit the vibe.

- I still love Matchbox Twenty. Those songs hold up.

- The last two songs actually came out in 2009, and to my knowledge, have not been played on WBMX (which was coined to be the Black Music EXperience according to Wikipedia--surprise racism!). I included these songs because both of those bands are still making great music, even if radio isn't listening.

- Also in the Where Are They Now category, Matchbox Twenty put out six new songs on 2007's retrospective Exile on Mainstream and they are pleasantly excellent. I haven't heard BNL's latest album so I can't vouch for it, but Third Eye Blind still enjoys strong, sustained support from Providence, RI, among other places. It goes without saying that Sting, U2, and DMB are still active.

- I have no idea where Tal Bachman is, but I'm guessing his one hit got him the girl. It had to. She couldn't walk away from that.

- I like a lot of The Goo Goo Dolls' mainstream grab Dizzy Up The Girl, but hardly anything else they've done before or since. I think this is strange and alarmingly conformist of me. Also, for the record, "Slide" blows "Iris" right out of the water.

- Vertical Horizon's Matthew Scannell is a fantastic and underrated songwriter.

- "Change Your Mind" is definitely a song I need to hear more often. Noted.

- Don't do a Google Image search for "Barenaked Ladies Pinch Me" if the filter isn't turned on. Nothing good coming from that. Lesson learned.

I wish these bands got the airplay now that they did then, because there is something unifying about liking music that other people like, too. Until then, I will refuse to listen to the "new" Mix 104.1 and work on "The Mix Mix Strikes Back" (or "Buzz Ballads 4"). Or maybe I'll just buy "NOW 2".

PS - If Nick Hornby and Stephen Chbosky co-wrote an article about music, it would sound exactly like this one. If you understood that, color me impressed.

#10 on the Top 10 Top 10 Lists of '10

2010-12-28T22:02:00.014-05:00

The approach of New Year's Eve caters to two very distinct American values: 1) the promise of erasing (another) unfulfilling year with copious amounts of alcohol, and 2) the ability to relive condensed highlights of the past year in easy-to-manage list format. The first value needs no elaboration, especially since you're a nursing major. What's that, you say? You're not a nursing major? Well you're nursing that beer, so let's go already! Take off the skirt and man up, Grandma.

The second point is fascinating because many people today love to reminisce about things that just happened. Clicking through another best of list from People Magazine or the like (usually titled, "Top 10 Celebrity Rebound Dates" or something) offers many opportunities for what I call the "Oh, yeah, remember that?" crowd. Of course we remember that. It was October. Keep in mind, though, we were the generation who demanded I Love the 00's from VH1, and got it.

In the spirit of our short attention spans, another year-end Top 10 list!

TEN BEST BLOG ENTRIES (blentries?) OF 2010

Yup, I haven't written anything good since August. Lists don't lie, you know. Even this entry is shooting 1 over par. Here's to 2011, only the 24th time I have wished for a better year than the last. Hey, this is like... 43 words in a row already! The internerds are getting restless! Better throw in another picture!

Your mind may be in the gutter, but Candice is thinking about my blog and hoping for the long rumored "Open Notes to People in the Greenwich Village Bar" entry.

Happy New Year to most of you. For those who need it, here's a handy reference article for hangover cures. Note that the author digs deep for mind-blowing insight like "don't overdrink". Also, I don't know for certain what a "drinking expert" is, exactly, but I'd be willing to bet that I know many and we party often. Best of luck to y'all.

Facebook According to DF, Part 6

2010-12-14T20:15:00.001-05:00

Dear Facebook,

The first step in fixing any problem is identifying the problem. "Something" is not a specific problem. If you do not know what went wrong, you cannot be fixing it. Every time you display the following message, it just confirms that you don't care.

I appreciate that my choices here are "Okay" and... guess I'm okay with it, then.

Poking Around

2010-12-14T20:09:00.000-05:00

I would like to thank Facebook, weight and measure of all things social and network, for confirming that I poked my friend Steve yesterday. Even after asking if I was sure that I wanted to poke Steve. While others rail on about profile page layouts and friendship pages, I find that it's still the simplest things that really, truly creep me out. Thanks, Facebook.

On an unrelated note, this is blog post #200. Pow.

I spent about two minutes on this.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Pennies Saved (which are pennies earned, of course)

2010-12-05T21:10:00.006-05:00

As I procrastinate at Union Square's Barnes and Noble, which is something I cannot afford to do, I am sitting next to a fellow who apparently has trouble affording things as well.

Exhibit A: Prohibitively expensive materials.

This guy is using his iPhone to photograph recipes in cookbooks that he won't buy, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I mean, recipes really don't strike me as the best example of intellectual property, but this bistro burglar is just copying entire cookbooks wholesale. My mom occasionally photocopies a dish from a library cookbook (please don't tell on us), but she doesn't do it at the library. There's a pile of ten books and like four magazines here, and he's got every page! He's like The Pirate Bay of the kitchen.

Exhibit B: What a dirtbag!

I assume that his name is Albert, because it's written on his coffee cup (but by that logic, his name could also be "Made with 60% post-consumer waste"-and oh man, that would be awesome). Just watch out for this guy, ladies, because when he offers to cook dinner for your first date, it's not just because he's got a stack of recipes, but also because he doesn't like to pay for stuff. He can't take you on a harbor cruise, but if you'd like, he's got a great picture of one on his iPhone.

In a strange and coincidental turn of events, this is my first time blogging from my new iPod touch. I then took pictures of his stuff when he got up. That is almost ironic. Technology high five!

EXCITING FOLLOW-UP! Turns out "Albert", or "Post-Consumer Waste" , is not only too cheap to buy things, but he left all of the books (and his trash) for someone else to clean up! Nice. Take that, B&N. Apparently, customer service is not just limited to customers. Before exiting, he checked out the Spirituality section (he'll need to redeem himself someday), the Newly Arrived section (in case there was something that he didn't get photos of last Sunday), and the Men's Interest section (too easy). I would have and should have called him out publically, and by name, too. Ideal Me would have done it. Goshdarn propriety.

Don't Be a Flake

2010-11-23T22:16:00.002-05:00

One thing that really, really aggravates me is when people say they would like to see you, even going as far as saying this date at this time, and then wait for you to call them so that they can tell you that they can't make it. I've had more people flake on me this year. This has literally happened more than real plans have gone through. No, I'm not being facetious. It's just getting ridiculous.

If you say you're going to be somewhere, be there. Either that or you damn well have a better reason than "I'm tired" or "I forgot" or "I have to do this thing". You should be meeting with Nelson Mandela and The Situation on the moon if you're making me plan around you so you can blow me off.

Checking In

2010-11-20T11:09:00.002-05:00

I once wrote a very eloquent post about how most blog posts are posts apologizing for the lack of posts. I even successfully used raison d'etre in a sentence. You should go read it; you'd love it!

Shown: Approximate size of RI.

This morning I find myself at a Starbucks in Providence, Rhode Island, a place where I have many memories, and a few nights without memories. I used to come to this particular shop to unwind before my work study job at a nearby museum, as well as to get some work done when I used to do adorable things like write papers about literature. Having woke up in Brooklyn this morning at 5 for a 7:10 bus out of Penn Station, Rhode Island at 10:30 strikes me as quaint in its littleness. It's like it thinks it's a state or something.

None of these things matter to you, however, because you didn't come here for that. You came here hoping to find out why I haven't posted lately, and I don't blame you. Being a student teacher is hard. Parent teacher conferences, disciplinary actions, and grades are all hard enough, but painstakingly crafting original exams and watching your class bomb them in front of you after a month of study and two days of review might be the most discouraging thing ever.

Hey, how do you feel about
stock photos? I'm for 'em.

At the very least, my 7th graders are killing it with vocabulary units and I couldn't be more jazzed. Gradually I've been able to appear as less square-ish of a teacher, which is exciting. Despite anything you've heard, most teachers would, in fact, like their students to think that they are cool, if all other things are equal. Sure, teachers aren't supposed to be their students' friends and there is work to be done. Still, holding back the perfectly timed joke is like looking at delicious red velvet cake without eating it.

Ah, but I've wandered into things that no one cares about again. Coming back around to this blog, my blogging will probably pick up substantially in January, but in the meantime, it's a slow drip. Enjoy your Thanksgiving and please tell all of your female friends about me. I'm available and I'm a snappy dresser.

Resurfacing

2010-10-26T15:28:00.002-04:00

Confession: Student teaching has been kicking my butt. I don't know why I decided to take 13 credits of grad work, teach a 7th grade English class, and spend 30+ hours a week in the fine public schools of Brooklyn, but I did. I am legitimately amazed that I did not collapse during midterms last week (which coincided with all grades becoming due as well).

You can now add captions for photos. That's pencilrific.

I suppose this is what I signed up for as an English Education major. Generally speaking, my time is spent teaching reading, reading about writing, and writing about teaching. I also collect present-tense verbs and gerunds.

Anyway, I'm getting to the point. POINT: I will start blogging again soon. I have resurfaced after hell week and life is slowly returning to normal. Although I remain very busy, I will now have more opportunity to procrastinate without immediate and collosal negative repercussions. Besides, my class deserves a subsitute teacher and a VHS tape every now and then.

Adventures in Education, Chapter 20

2010-08-16T18:56:00.003-04:00

Friday, Summer Camp, 11:14pm
Woodshop

Counselor DF: "You might want to paint your names on the sides of your toolboxes, so you will know which one is yours when the paint dries."
1st Grader: "I wrote 'Tool'!"

Adventures in Education, Chapter 19

2010-08-14T23:21:00.001-04:00

Wednesday, Summer Camp, 4:02pm

Camper: "I have a joke. Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?"
Counselor DF: "I don't know."
Camper: "Because it died."

ADDENDUM (12/28/10): This is still potentially my favorite joke ever.

Adventures in Education, Chapter 18

2010-08-07T00:24:00.002-04:00

Preface: Although I hate setups, this one is necessary. A theme of this week at camp was the "Dress A Bus Contest", where campers use materials provided to decorate a bus (as you may have guessed, you smart thing you). Our bus's theme was "Under the Sea Disco Party"--a theme that could only happen when you work with young children. Enough ado. As always, true story.

Friday, Summer Camp, 4:32pm
Camp Bus to Manhattan

7 y.o. Girl: "Want to hear me sing my favorite song?"
Counselor DF: "Sure."
7 y.o. Girl: "Let's have some fun, this beat is sick, I wanna take a ride on your disco stick!"
[Awkward silence]
Counselor DF: [Too afraid to say anything]
7 y.o. Girl: "We should have a disco stick on the bus for our bus party!"

An Open Letter to the Boston Red Sox

2010-08-06T23:47:00.002-04:00

Dear Socks,

Thank you for beating the Yankees today. However strong your desire to relish this victory may be, I must implore you to stay the course and remain focused.

I live in New York City now. I have been called an "asshole" and a guy with "a lot of balls" on the sidewalk as recently as last week for daring to wear a Red Sox hat and stand quietly [Note: the difference between "big balls" and "a lot of balls" is substantial]. I even got made fun of by a Mets fan once--which is crap. On the whole, the city's disdain for the Red Sox is best described as a smug apathy. You like the Red Sox? Good luck with that. However, the antagonism is ratcheted up quite a bit when the Sox are in town to play the Yanks.

As a Sox fan for my entire life (I vaguely remember Dave Henderson in 1990 and I definitely saw Mo Vaughn play in Pawtucket), I beg you to make a good showing in the Bronx this weekend. Tonight was a great start, but at a bare minimum, please don't lose the next three games. You need to at least win one more. It is very hard to be a transplant and face the public after your hometown archrivals dismantle your team (like they did this time last year).

Just saying "Yeah, well... 2004" doesn't cut it anymore. The Yankees are the defending champions and I have to take the heat if you dudes can't split this series. I'm six stops away from Yankee Stadium and I don't want to be cussed out in Spanish when I'm just running out for a donut.

Love always,
Me

Adventures in Education, Chapter 17

2010-08-06T23:27:00.002-04:00

Thursday, Summer Camp, 3:02pm
1st Grade Boys Free Swim

Camper: "I have spit on my hands."
Counselor DF: "Okay. How did that happen?"
Camper: "I spit on my hands."
Counselor DF: "So what did you learn?"
Camper: "If you spit on your hands, you get spit on your hands."
Counselor DF: "Great. Tell a friend."
Camper: [Tells a friend]
Friend: [Nods]

Wait Here for the Next Available Teller

2010-07-27T19:06:00.008-04:00

The bank teller at the local branch is absolutely gorgeous, and every time I drop in I want to flirt or make a witty joke or seem like a romantically desirable potential male counterpart... but then I stop because I remember that she can see exactly how poor I am.

New plan: start hitting on unemployed girls.

Truthful Pickup Lines

2010-07-26T22:50:00.000-04:00

"Want to watch me order a drink sometime?"

"I won't take up much of your time. Yeah, I guess I meant it in that way, too."

"I'm definitely not the worst looking guy that will talk to you tonight."

"Is it too late to steer clear of the Friend Zone?"

"Can I buy you a drink? You can get my next one."

"Are you here with anyone more physically impressive?"

"I like your face."

"I am incredibly lonely and you have a pulse."

"I don't have a shot in hell with you, but would you mind talking to me for a bit so that other girls might get interested?"

"Your boyfriend is a tool. I'm not really much better, but I mean, think about it."

"Please?"

Limited or No Connectivity, Part IV

2010-07-24T21:30:00.004-04:00

As I continue to blog about my lack of internet access (irony!!), my dependance on Starbucks is reaching frightening new levels. I've been on the lookout for other free wifi outlets that I can use in the evenings, but most places also have at least one drawback. McDonald's doesn't offer electric outlets, Bryant Park isn't sunny at 10:30pm, the closest independent coffee shop closes at 7, and people call the cops when you stand outside of their window and mooch internet.

Tonight, I passed a bar that advertised free wifi and drink specials. I'm seriously considering it. Sure, I'd be the sketchy looking dude rocking a 7-year-old laptop at a bar by himself, but this is New York City. There are 8 million people here and I can afford to put off quite a few of them.

An Open Letter To The Lady Sitting Behind Me

2010-07-24T20:09:00.003-04:00

Get your arm off of the back of my chair or I will end you.

A Can't-Miss Business Venture for All You Capitalists Out There With Flexible Morals

2010-07-18T22:23:00.002-04:00

A Laundromat Strip Club. The most appropriately inappropriate establishment of all time. You're welcome.

Limited or No Connectivity, Part III

2010-07-11T21:55:00.001-04:00

When going online is a chore, giving out my email address is a pretty useless gesture. My poor response time will most definitely lead to hurt feelings and possible reprisal via mocha lattes thrown at my head. Yet I cannot shake the growing terror I feel when I remember that the parents of all 21 of my campers have my cell phone number now.

Some Crappy Haiku / Copied From My Other Blog / And Recycled Here

2010-07-11T21:37:00.003-04:00

Ever feel awkward

When you've drank more or less than

your friends? Cause I do.

As you read this, I'm

Breaking my resolution

To write better stuff.

If I'd my druthers

I would run around barefoot

And play in the sand

Don't you hate it when

You meet paid professionals

Who suck at their job?

Standing by the door

You stop to fix your sun dress.

I'm checkin' you out.

Yeah I hate it when

You come home from work and you

Still have work. What gives?

Someone should look at

Truth in Advertising Law

And let Best Buy know.

Bad luck is just that

Black cat climbing the ladder

Up a house of cards.

If I write haiku

But then nobody reads it

Is it really there?

Fun note! I learned recently that haiku is composed of moras and not necessarily syllables. I do not understand moras, but if you took any of these haiku seriously, then shame on you. And, also, thanks.

A Fond Farewell to the W Train!

2010-07-06T21:39:00.002-04:00

Um... actually I don't have much to say here. You were simply all kinds of adequate that one time that I took you. I suppose I will miss the disappointment of seeing you rounding the corner and not being a Q train, N train, or even an R. You ran to my school and to... well, nowhere else that I ever needed to go. Sure, you could get me to Times Square, but so could the 1, 2, 3, A, C, E, N, R, Q, S, and 7. I've actually even walked to 42nd Street and beyond from West 3rd Street (several times), so it's hard to say that you were worth the $2.25. While the N and Q often got the new rail cars, the cars on your local W runs often looked like poorly-lit crime scenes. When I found out that your service was being cut, I couldn't believe it--though only because it proved that the MTA actually does do things sometimes. I figured that they just deliberated a lot.

So therefore, dear W train, as you noisily approach that light at the end of the tunnel [Ed. note: Sorry, I couldn't help myself], I will leave you with a positive to take back with you to the rail yards. While you were certainly among the unsexiest of subway lines, you were not the late night G train--and you'll always have that.

Limited or No Connectivity, Part II

2010-07-06T21:07:00.002-04:00

I'm hitting up Starbucks more often than usual (you should be concerned) because the internet in my sublet is missing. If you find it, please return it to... wherever it is that I live. I keep forgetting that I have no idea what my current address is. The post office has no idea either.

In the meantime, my entries here will be sporadic as well as unfocused. Actually, this is probably not a new development. Inspire confidence this post doth not.

Limited or No Connectivity

2010-07-06T20:55:00.003-04:00

Occasionally, the following series of events will happen to me.

1) A stranger will ask if he or she can share my table space at a wifi-enabled cafe.
2) I happily oblige and they sit down with me.
3) A free table opens up and they immediately move their stuff away.

Should I feel slighted? I usually do.

An Open Letter to Cash-Only Bodegas

2010-06-11T23:45:00.000-04:00

Really?

Are you serious? Look, the last time I had cash was probably by accident, and it certainly wasn't because I left my apartment that morning thinking, "Damn, I could really go for a bottle of juice or a quick snack--not now, but sometime around 4:15 this afternoon." You might have that kind of foresight, but I certainly do not. Then again, if you did, you'd have probably seen the year 2010 coming and you'd have gotten a charge card system.

As for you, "Seven-Dollar-Minimum-Purchase Bodegas on the Corner of Thompson and West 3rd", it's about time you knew your role. If you don't want my money, fine. There are other bodegas on the same block that will happily accept my business. Stop acting like you're the only game in town. I'm not spending $7 when all I want is a Clif Bar, so why you fronting?

I'd prefer to pick one bodega and be a loyal customer. I like to support the little guy, and CVS and I have a beef at the moment. Just embrace the fact that a good 30-45% of your sales are impulsive, and help us blow our hard-earned cash at your establishment even when we don't have hard-earned cash.

Useless Post (33% Less Fat!)

2010-05-31T19:10:00.001-04:00

Although it should technically be fine, I cannot come around to the notion of cream cheese on toast.

An Open Letter to the Diminutative Fellow Who Berated A Library Employee After Cutting Me In Line.

2010-05-30T21:33:00.015-04:00

Dear Short Stack,

Although we only spent about two minutes in each others' presence today, I wanted to drop you a line and let you know how much you suck.

While I was re-registering my library card at the circulation desk, the guest that I was signing in was filling out forms at the Library Priviledges window. Apparently missing the obvious signage, you proceed to walk up to the desk and demand that whatever pressing need you had would be taken care of. When I returned from my absence of not more than 30 seconds, I tried and failed to block out your incredibly disrespectful railing against the employee behind the window.

Yes, we got it the first time when you said that it wasn't clear that there was someone in line. It was clear, but it probably takes basic human perception to notice this and you've got better things to do, like maybe lord your newfound socialist answers over us sheep after taking Intro. Yes, we got it again the second time when you refused to go get back in line--yup, you're irritated. Great. You're still wrong, but my training as a kindergarten teacher reminds me that I must acknowledge your feelings and use inclusive language.

"I understand that you're upset, Short Stack, and I'm sorry to hear that, but we need to make a better choice of how we will show that we're upset."

Yes, we still continued to get it when you accused the unflappably patient employee of being incompetent, hostile, and "disrespectful"--hey, I've used that word already--towards your refusal to acknowledge or address your breach of protocol and your subsequent hissy fit. By the way, I'm still waiting at this point. No, don't worry about it.

After calling over another employee who probably wanted to gently murder you, you then decided to pull that move where you ask the person what their name is so you can complain to their supervisor. No doubt, this clown is going to get canned for not catering to your whims. After all, HE is there to serve YOU.

So I believe that that is where I decided that enough was enough and decisively barked three words at you--are you finished?. After realizing that you could not simply pretend not to hear someone next to you, you looked up at my face with an unfortunate visage and snottily replied that you weren't talking to me. While laughing at you, you might recall my clarification that I was talking to you and you were wasting my time. Guess it's my business now, isn't it?

Listen, Short Stack, here's the deal. You stepped in front of someone when another guest was being helped. This was pointed out to you, and you had two options. You could simply bite your lip and wait your turn in line, or you could choose to flex your imaginary muscles and throw insubordination into the library staff's face--because hey, you're not going to take their crap. You're too good for that, even if you are taking "Library Priviledges" a little too seriously.

It must be nice to live in your delusional, self-righteous world. Exactly what have you done with everything that has been given to you, dear private university undergrad, that has benefitted those with less? I couldn't know that, but if my hunch is correct, planning to maybe pay back your student loans some day does not count as "giving back to the community".

I've taken to calling you Short Stack since I do not know your name and I found it really, really funny that you stood on your toes to try to intimidate me. I am referring to you as "Short Stack" in the comment form that I am drafting now. It praises the employee (by name) that dealt with you without raising his voice or simply throttling you. You were smart not to argue with me any further, which is good because you were in way over your head. I imagine that one in your position gets used to things being constantly over one's head.

I am tired of people in my generation with unmerited senses of entitlement and misplaced outrage. Children who grow up getting what they want when they want it learn nothing about how the real world works, and parents who appease their vindictive offspring are directly responsible for any temper tantrums that their overpriviledged, ungrateful toddlers throw in college. Welcome to the real world, Short Stack, where being disrespectful, uncivil, and all-around douche-y will earn you nothing but scorn and derision as you are ignored. I can only imagine how many waiters have spit in your food. Time to grow up.

24

2010-05-17T23:47:00.002-04:00

Illustration by Nedroid

Not sure, but I think I just had the lamest birthday ever. Guess I'm a grown-up now. Crap, when did that happen?

An Open Letter to the Cockroach I Saw in the Laundry Room

2010-04-21T21:56:00.002-04:00

Dear Tiny Manifestation of Evil,

So, we finally meet. You: the first naturally occuring cockroach I have ever seen. Me: mild-mannered student teacher by day, part-time super hero by night. There was a definite moment as I entered the laundry room and you paused in your scurry across the floor that our eyes locked.

We stared at one another, sizing each other up for a good few seconds. Then, as we nonchalantly went our seperate ways, we continuously turned around to monitor each other's paths. No doubt, you were considering the brute strength that must lie within each of my disproportionately toned arms (Hey, I'm working on the shoulders, alright? Lay off. LOOK AT YOUR LEGS, SHRIMP!).

Listen, let me lay this out for you in a language that you can understand. I have no quarrel. I do not bite my thumb at you, sir. You pose no threat to me as you scamper across the floor, looking for God knows what (as it was past midnight, I'm forced to assume you were out looking for a lady friend). I live on a much higher floor, whereas you live in the basement, or you were just visiting. So long as you remain below ground level, in the land of dryer lint and the occasional pipe leak, we have no beef.

But I swear to Eric Clapton, if you so much as stick one little antennae into our hallway, I will sick the baby panther on you and she will rip you into a dozen nuclear-radiation-resistant pieces. Sure, you might have the upper hand when it comes to longevity, but who is more likely to survive the swift justice of the bottom of my sneaker? Me, that's who. Don't ask questions.

Listen, bug, I've wasted enough of my time writing this patient, heartfelt letter that you can't read cause yous straight ignant. You've probably already been smashed by someone since I started this tome, so I will wrap it up and wish you a good night far below my apartment, stuck to the squeaky wheel of a laundry cart.

Wednesday Morning

2010-04-18T01:02:00.004-04:00

Editor's Note: There used to be an entry here about the taxi cab that struck me on the sidewalk one morning. There are currently several legal cases pending, so I decided it was best to take this post down given my involvement in these cases.

An Open Letter to the Nigerian Email Scam Artist Posing as a Reputable NYC Landlord Who Woke Up This Morning To Find His Inbox Swamped with Dozens of Hilariously Annoying Email Subscriptions and Text Message Alerts, All Addressed to a Certain "Dr. Fake McScammypants"

2010-04-09T16:06:00.005-04:00

You're welcome.
Love, Dan

Adventures in Education, Chapter 16

2010-04-08T23:45:00.002-04:00

The administration at my student teaching site asked us to create a homework packet or research project assignment for our students for the public school spring break last week. As a part of our unit on Night by Elie Wiesel, I asked students to select one of four project options for their research on Holocaust history.

Option #3 was a series of creative writing journals detailing, with some historical accuracy, daily life in the ghetto for an "undesirable". I apparently did not specify that I meant the Warsaw ghetto, and I am currently reading through journal entries describing life in Bushwick, Brooklyn, and Hunts Point in the Bronx.

Tomorrow's class will be featuring a "teachable moment". I'm still learning things, too.

A Very Recentist List of One English Ed Grad Student's Fears (but not mine, certainly).

2010-04-06T21:31:00.001-04:00

Level 1
- Being late for class
- Teaching the day after a Boston team bites it against an NYC team.
- Running out of Clif Bars
- Houston Street bicyclists

Level 2
- Forgetting to set the alarm
- Showing up to class unprepared
- Crossing the street the day after the Yankees win the World Series
- Not having a devastatingly witty response for Nigerian email scammers

Level 3
- Not being able to shake the feeling that I forgot to set the alarm
- The Lincoln Tunnel
- Taking the Ashmont Red Line instead of the Braintree Red Line, only to wake up and find out it was all a dream... as I miss the late night 1 train at 116th Street.
- Being called a phony as I teach The Catcher in the Rye

Level 4
- Being called a phony as I teach The Very Hungry Caterpillar
- Being placed at a Staten Island student teaching site
- Nigerian email scammers riding bicycles on Houston Street
- Whales

Level 5
- Men's rooms in Brooklyn
- The subway level of the Port Authority Bus Terminal
- The G train
- Dying alone

Level 6
- Having to drive through Connecticut even one more time.

Help Me Get Lunch, Friends

2010-03-31T12:34:00.006-04:00

There is a restaurant nearby called Project Sandwich, and they are asking for sandwich submissions. You can see the list and vote or die here.

Naturally I am hungry and anticipate getting free food so please consider the issues, place a sign in your front lawn, and go vote for "The Upper-Middle Class Pilgrim"--the sandwich that is about to take Manhattan by storm, kind of like the rain just did.

"The Upper-Middle Class Pilgrim" Sandwich

1 Serving of Smoked Turkey

A Few Slices of Ham

Two Strips of Bacon

Cranberry Mustard

Served on Potato Bread

w/Cape Cod Potato Chips

Feel free to submit your own recipe as well, if you are looking to snag second place. I really think that having my own sandwich will be the difference maker and I will finally have lots of friends.

A Call to the Bullpen

2010-03-29T14:30:00.005-04:00

Fantasy sports are exciting. Despite the fact that most of us got made fun of in gym class (but not me, certainly), playing fantasy sports allows many of us to get the competitive juices flowing without any of the detracting risks that come along with being an athlete, like pulled hamstrings, road trips to Milwaulkee, and cheating on your spouse.

One of the highest orders of business in fantasy sports actually has nothing to do with the sport at all. Picking a tremendously hilarious team name will earn you the admiration of your peers and make you seem like an awesome human being--even though, by all accounts, you are not.

I joined a fantasy baseball league where I will need to come up with a baseball related pun on a popular book title (examples that are already taken: "Catchers in the Rye", "David Copper Fielders", "A Midsummer Night's Team", and "The Great Batsby"). Although I am quite aware that I am the funniest person I know (and smartest and best looking ~~and most modest~~), I thought I would take it to the Internets and solicit votes from the peanut gallery, as well as potential submissions, before I finally select a team name.

Here is my preliminary brainstorming list:
Jane Error
Slaughterhouse Nine
Lord of the Flyouts
Angels & Dodgers
The Pinchrunner's Guide to the Galaxy
Perks of Being a Wallballer
Catch-27
Homers for Algernon

Fahrenheit 6-4-3
Dante's Infieldo
Clubhouse Chatterly's Glover
Artemis Foul
Comedy of Errors
Taming of the Screwball
The Bunt for Red October
For Whom The Ball Rolls
Number the All-Stars (I'm going to hell)
Fight in August
A Pitcher of the Artist as a Young Man
Silas Mariner
Homer's Epic Cycle

Please overlook some of the lamer choices in there; I was tired. My friends also came up with lists, among them these choice choices:

Excerpts from JM's (probably superior) List:
Atlanta Braves New World
The Base Runner
Of Dice-K and Men
The Full Count of Monte Cristo
The Pitcher of Dorian Gray
Atlas Slugged
One Flew Over the Green Monster
The Outfielders
A New York Yankee on King Arthur's Wall
Jackie Robinson Crusoe
Journey to the Center Field of the Earth
[and my personal favorite]
The Tragedy of King Richard at Third

Excerpts from DL's List:
Glove in a Time of Cholera
Balk Two Moons
Animal Farm League
A World Series of Unfortunate Events
Around the Bases in 80 Days
Charlotte's Web Gems

Have you got anything, Internets? I'm picking my team name by this time tomorrow. Feedback/suggestions/hate mail appreciated.

An Attempt to Single Out My Huge Fan from Mountain View, California

2010-03-29T00:31:00.005-04:00

Hello, Mountain View, California!!!!!

Many of you will wonder why I'm offering this salute to this quaint little village of 70,780. As it turns out (and yes, I get statistics on such things), I've received quite a few hits from this town, which perhaps not coincidentally is where Google is based. In an effort to find out if I have a stalker (and find out if said stalker is a gorgeous, 22-year-old brunette with brown eyes standing about 5'5"), I am reaching out to said creepshow who seems to be stalking my blog.

At any rate, hi. My name is Dan. I am impressed by your taste in comedic blog writing, since you've come to the greatest source for blog-o-comedy on the Internets. For those of you who fall into a category I just created called "Not my stalker from Mountain View, California", you might be thinking: "Hey, this entry is irrelevant to me!!". And you'd be right, except for the fact that this stalker that I may or may not have might in fact be my future wife, and thus an integral part of my blogging experience from 2013 onward. I'm just saying. If she is, I'd like to give her enough time to break into the world of hiLARious comedic blogging so she can be up to snuff when I have to introduce her to my mom.

And so, dear future wife from MOUNTAIN VIEW, CALIFORNIA, I am very happy to have artificially met you. Please get in touch with me soon. I'd be more than happy to leave my current girlfriend, "Beer".

The Unexpected Case for "Y'all"

2010-03-28T18:57:00.063-04:00

I'm a man with facts. While some people have opinions, my "opinions" are really just facts that I label as opinions so that other people don't feel insecure around me. Trust me, it's hard work being right all of the time. People start to resent you.

That said, I never change my mind about anything, because to do so would be to change facts, and to change facts is un-American (or standard practice, if you're Rush Limbaugh). I have to make an announcement, however: I have, in fact, changed my mind on one very important point.

After much malignment from myself and other intelligent, great looking people, I think it's time we embrace the word "y'all".

Now step down from that window ledge, Grandpa; I know what you're thinking. "Y'all" is a grammatically suspect folksism from the backwoods of all the states that we should have just let secede. You'd be right. However, at the moment, we have a need, and necessity is the mother of invention. And your mother was a duplicitous tramp, but we don't have time for that right now.

You see, there currently exists no good option for replacing "guys" in the vernacular. Sure, everyone uses it, but those with too much time on their hands are quick to mention that "guys" is sexist (even if you were just addressing four men whose names were all, literally, "Guy"). I have several professors that have gone out of their way to deliver a ten-minute tangent on why America needs to stop referring to groups of people as "you guys".

Sure, my other professors think those guys need to just chill out, but they may have a point. Who knows? Somewhere there could be a girl that actually gets offended when she's directly or indirectly referenced as a part of the "you guys" collective. No, I wouldn't want to hang out with her either, but I think I have to at least pretend to care about her life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.

"Oh Rhode Island, you so silly!"

Therefore, I ask you to indulge me and reconsider "y'all". It's hard to get the attention of a group of people if, say, you're a student teacher and you need to bring a room with 33 students to order. I mean this is strictly hypothetical, of course. "Ladies and gentlemen" sounds a bit stuffy. "Boys and girls" is patronizing. "You folks" sounds like something my grandma would say. "Fellas" isn't going to do it, either--you'll have the "You Guys" KGB knocking on your door in no time. Yet, a well placed "Hey, y'all need to shut the hell up!" could get the trick done without offending anyone at all!*

* based on gender

So, dear friends, hear my plea! Given that there is no more edumacated synonym for "y'all", I suggest we try it out. We have nothing to lose, and so much community to gain. Whaddaya say, y'all??

ADDENDUM (6:58pm): Forget it, you guys. I can't do it.

I'll Be Honest; I Don't Fully Understand Where This Leaves Us

2010-03-27T01:04:00.002-04:00

Okay, so... usually I like to post my own stuff, because I think that I'm hilarious and awesome and head and shoulders above the rest of the world... and, well, I am. Sometimes, however, I like to throw the spotlight to those who are less talented than I am. Enjoy this clip that I cannot get enough of:

Don't Call It A Comeback!

2010-03-23T00:13:00.003-04:00

Two reasons for that:
1) It's too early to tell
2) It probably isn't one; I've just always wanted to say that

photo credit: CNN/SI

I would wager that 65% of all blog posts are posts apologizing for the lack of posts, which means that they help alleviate their own raison d'etre but not by a lot.

At any rate, I'll add substance to this post by mentioning that I would favor a cruel and unusual punishment for anyone who takes up the whole sidewalk while walking, especially if they stop abruptly. I'm thinking that they should have to listen to "Party in the U.S.A." once or twice.

Okay, that's a bit excessive. It's good to be back.

Open Notes to the Springtime Revelers in the Park

2010-03-20T21:18:00.006-04:00

Preface: This is the second installment in my Open Notes series, where I talk to people around me but on my blog because I lack the guts/interest/pickup lines necessary to actually conversate with other people.

Today I thought I would take advantage of the 73-degree weather (that's Fahrenheit, for those of you who identify as Eurotrash) and grade some papers in scenic Washington Square Park. Given its location, WSP is a nexus of every population subset imaginable. Where else could hippies, musicians, NYU students, yuppies, tourists, dogs, communists, druggies, protestors, pretzels, Sesame Street Muppets, film crews, artists, and squirrel enthusiasts gather in one place? Well okay, Brooklyn, yeah. You're right. Happy?

Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted by an anticipated argument, I was about to announce that it was time once again to make fun of people on the internets while hiding behind the enclosure of my craptop screen.

To the indie artist next to me: I had no idea that stringing together a long list of words that end in "-ation" constituted a deep, meaningful song. Bravisimo! I can tell by your softly plucked chords and clever use of juxtaposition and free association that you are a douche. There are more chords in the world besides G and C. Please learn some of them. Any of them, really. Also, thanks for calling your girlfriend/incredibly patient sister over to play the egg shaker--it really adds to the ambiance of your composition.

To the undergrad girls stopping to listen: No, girls, he sucks. Move along.

To the ladies walking the small lapdog: Does your dog know that he is an accessory? How does he feel about this? Does he have the will to live at all? Was his father a hat? Was his grandfather a cotton ball? What kind of metaphor does he think his leash is? Is he a she? I have so many questions.

To the fellow with the crazy hair, ridiculous hat, and Nike shirt which reads "SLICE IT UP": When your track jacket covered the "S" of "SLICE IT UP", your headwear suddenly made so much more sense.

To the girl on the phone to my right: You seem like you'd be really annoying, but you're hot so I'll let it slide.

To the dude that walked by and said "Wrong shirt, buddy": First off, I'm not your buddy. Secondly, making fun of my Mike Lowell shirt is not fair unless you are properly marked yourself. Yankees or Mets? It makes a difference, yes. I don't know how to respond to you without that pertinent information. I guess I could take the high road and yell "Suck in the gut!". Maybe next time.

To several male friends via text message: SKIRTS! YES!!

To my iPod: Thank you for being here. Now I can pretend that the John Lennon wannabe next to me actually is John Lennon.

To the dude walking through in a Wu-Tang Clan shirt and actually blasting Wu-Tang Clan on his boombox: Holy 1993!

To the barefoot girl sitting across from me who also laughed and then shared a knowing look with me: My roommate is gone for the weekend. I'm just saying.

To the guy feeding the pigeons: Wow. I think Mary Poppins sings a song about you. Also if you've got that many pigeons on you, I imagine you do a lot of laundry. Why aren't you wearing white?

To the folks stolling by with the weiner dog: If I put relish and mustard on your dog, would you laugh too? I would laugh.

To the girl clearly not wearing a bra: Usually I'd be okay with this, but... how can I put this tactfully? I support you even less than your clothes do.

To the folks that asked me to slide down so they could fit their whole group and then decided to leave once I had moved all of my stuff because they wanted to go sit on the grass instead: It was great meeting you today.

To the Communists handing out fliers: Okay first, communism has never worked well anywhere in the history of time. So give me a break. I'd love to help out with the Rebellion, but I have to do some laundry.

To the LaRouche fringe group handing out fliers of a Hitler mustache on President Obama, ostensibly to protest the health care plan: Hitler wasn't socialist. He was fascist. Sorry no one told you before you printed 2,000 of these things.

To the really large retriever dog passing by: Eat a pigeon! Eat a pigeon! Eat a pigeon!

To the backside of the really large retriever dog passing by: Wuss.

To the hippie walking from the other direction: You bear a passing resemblance to the backside of the really large retriever dog passing by.

To me: You've sat here for an hour and graded 3 papers. You suck.

To the indie artist next to me as he gets ready to leave: I know you came out here this morning with big dreams of being the next Bob Dylan. You were so excited that in your haste you forgot to shower this week. At any rate, I'm sorry no one took you seriously today. I suppose you could write a song about it.

Moving Forward. Rapidly.

2010-03-14T22:13:00.001-04:00

Times are tough, but we at Toyota would like to thank you for sticking with us! Sure, the reports are dire and getting worse every day, but you, the American Public, have once again stood by us and our superior brand name. Well, mostly.

At any rate, we're totally out of ideas (and even we're driving Hondas now), so to entice you to purchase any one of our fine products, please check out these offers!!

All Priuses (Prii?) now come with jet brakes
Innovative new Tuk-N-Rol in all Rav-4s
All Camrys (Camries?) now upgraded to Corollas
Drag racing rear parachutes installed in all Avalons
All 4Runners equipped with escape Yarises
Yarii?
Tacoma now features bubble wrap exterior
All Lexuses (Lexii?) now come with larger Christmas bows on the roof, to increase drag
Every new Sienna comes standard with lifeboats, perfect for a roadside lake near you!
All Tundras now include Mario Kart mode. It doesn't solve anything but we've always wanted to try it. Yoshi not included.

Thank you once again for your patronage! And for those of you pointing fingers, we now think the problem might be due to excess radiation in the southern part of our country. Yeah, I wonder whose fault that was.

TOYOTA. Hey, at least we're not Chevy™.

An Open Letter to the Guy In Front of Me in the Metal Detector Line at my Student Teaching Site

2010-02-12T19:43:00.004-05:00

Editor's note: I have decided that this entry served its purpose--anonymously belittling a self-important loser--and I will be deleting it. It's too negative to sit here at what is currently the top of my blog. For a better example of how to make a small person feel smaller, please consult my Salute to the Bar Room Tough Guy.

I'll write more here soon. In the meantime, you'll just wait and you'll like it, capiche?

Hello

2010-02-09T11:36:00.000-05:00

Sometimes it is really hard to keep up with a blog. When you see it as an extension of yourself, and then you are forced to neglect it for long periods of time while you tend to your own real life (Existance 1.0), you feel as if something is missing. Then, when you return, you feel as if the vitality and the creative spring that used to be there is dried up, gone, something from yesterday that didn't survive.

I think of things to write every single day, and I want to get them down. Yet, I have so many obligations at the moment that my kiss-offs to ridiculously obnoxious strangers and my love letters to random girls on the 1 train never seem to materialize. I then wonder if it really matters; do I only write for me? That might be the only reason. This entry is uncharacteristically serious.

Your mom.

Dude, That's Nuts

2010-02-02T00:09:00.000-05:00

There is absolutely no way that the inspiration for this product did not happen on a Friday night in the backseat of a '57 Camaro.

Brit Brit

2010-02-01T00:52:00.003-05:00

Setting: an LA studio, early 2008

Producer: Okay Britney, we need one more song and we've got ourselves an album. You got anything?
Britney: You know, I was listening to the radio in the car and I had this genius idea. It's totally our first single. I wrote it down and this is going to change the game.
Producer: W-Wait, really? Seriously? Well all right! Let's see what you've got.
Britney: Ok. I'm thinking a pulsing, mid-tempo, edgy dance number...
Producer: So far, so good...
Britney: ...and it's kind of a kiss-off to a player...
Producer: ...I'm liking it...
Britney: ...and I think I'm gonna call it "Womanizer", which goes along with the whole robotic dance sound. It's this word that I heard the other day and it really stuck with me, and I think it could mean a lot for girls today who are tired of being played.
Producer: Great!! Wow, this could be really something! Alright, step up to the mic and let's record some of this while it's still fresh!
Britney: Okay, here goes. [Singing] "Womanizer, womanizer, you're a womanizer oh, womanizer, womanizer you're a womanizer baby you you you are, you you you are, womanizer, womanizer, he's a womanizer she's a womanizer we're all womanizers Bob's a womanizer womanizer baby oh womanizer womanizer toxic womanizer wo-..."
Producer: Whoa Brit, whoa. Hang on a second.
Britney: What's the problem?
Bob the Custodian: Yeah, what's the problem?
Producer: It's just... aren't you just singing the word "womanizer" over and over again? Like, are there other lyrics?
Britney: There are other lyrics too! I just really like that word.
Producer: All right I just... I just think that if you're going to have a hit chorus, you need more than the same word over and over and over again, no?
Britney: Well I wasn't done yet, though! And I really think that today's girls will be able to identify with it.
Producer: Okay well, I don't know. We're on a tight schedule. We need a hit song done in like ten minutes.
Britney: Okay.
Producer: You don't have any other songs?
Britney: Well, I'm working on one that I think I'm going to call "1 2 3" or something and I'll namecheck beloved folk group Peter, Paul, and Mary as a euphamism for a threesome.
Producer: Uhhhhh yeah okay we'll go with "Womanizer". Just throw the word "swagger" in there somewhere and we should be good.

Setting: Some time later, Scotland
Alex Kapranos: Guys, let's cover this song. It'll be hilarious.
Franz Ferdinand:

A Moderate Reaction to My Little State's Very Big Election

2010-01-19T23:54:00.011-05:00

I never discuss politics here, but I feel like I have to get my take out there just this one time. Then I'll shut up. This entry will probably not make me popular with any of my friends, but I stand by what I write as thought-out and careful. Skip it if you'd like.

When I turned 18, I registered to vote but declined to affiliate myself with a political party. I knew that I leaned a bit to the left, but on the whole I was a fairly moderate thinker who preferred to vote on the issues and not on the parties. I would prefer that my politicians be fiscally responsible (though really, none ever are), but I have always strongly felt that social justice initiatives could be much better served by those in office. Although I had generally voted for Democrats when an election cycle came up, my beliefs did not align themselves with that party enough for me to want to declare it as my own. In my mind, the certainty that I was not a Republican was not a sufficient argument for being a Democrat. I decided that being a left-leaning independent was the best way to go, and I have proudly been one since. I was warmly receptive to Barack Obama's victory in 2008, and I was optimistic (or naive) enough to believe that our country could start coming together again.

That said, while I was probably blessed with the good fortune to be out of Massachusetts for the special election to fill the late Senator Ted Kennedy's seat, I watched with increasing irritation as our state's issue was turned into a circus by outside money and political noise. This election was not supposed to be a referendum on the national health care proposal, nor was it supposed to be an approval poll for President Obama's barely begun policy work.

Yes, I suppose that both parties quickly adopted the health care angle as soon as they realized that it was beneficial to align themselves with their national parties' support, and due to unfortunate coincidence it happens that this election result could very well enable or kill universal health care for all 50 states. I understand this.

But this is not a national election. We were voting for OUR senator, who has to serve OUR state for the next few years. Long after universal health care is either passed or abandoned, we will still have the winner of this race as an active policy maker, impacting our daily lives. One of our two Senate seats was not meant to be filled by a mere puppet of more nationally-minded interests. They are elected by the people to advocate for our specific state's interests at a national level.

It is with that in mind that I was very upset and somewhat angry with the outrageous amount of money, support, and advertisements that came pouring into MA from out-of-state non-constituents. This criticism extends equally to both parties. While Scott Brown may have kicked off the madness by loudly proclaiming that he would be the "41st vote" to kill the health care bill, Martha Coakley's campaign was only too happy to call and raise Brown by actually flying in the President of the United States to stump for a state election--during an international humanitarian crisis. Even if we couldn't have sent the money to Haiti, the millions of dollars on both sides that poured into this election from out of state interests pushing any national agenda is both wrong and sickening--even if I do happen to agree with said national agenda.

I was adamantly ashamed of how so many conservatives--many from Utah--poured money and biased advertisements into a largely hateful campaign around Proposition 8 and equal marriage rights in California a few years ago, so regardless of which candidate I supported today, I maintain my disgust if out of nothing more than principle. Those non-Californian conservatives had no business trying to guide policymakers on an issue that did not affect their jurisdiction. I realize that out-of-state influence on elections at even the local level is both legal and prevalent. However, I do not accept that it is appropriate, admirable, or fair.

Where does this leave me now, then, since I find the actions of both campaigns (not the politicians--the campaigns) to be detestable? It still boils right back down to who I would rather see represent my state and my interests for the next six years. My absentee ballot was not sent in time because at that point I had not decided who to vote for yet, and I felt more comfortable not voting than in just guessing. I am an independent, after all; since I don't align with a party, I actually do have to figure out which politician is either the better choice or just the lesser of two evils, and this time I was not 100% sure by the deadline (Side note: Yes, since my ballot was not submitted in time, you are reading the thoughts of a non-voter. Judge me all you'd like, but I've never thrown a vote away).

Here is the thing about Martha Coakley. She has thus far used the office of Attorney General as a platform to run for higher office. She was exploring the possibility of occupying Ted Kennedy's seat while he was still alive and serving. Her lackluster campaign proved that she was largely out-of-touch with the needs of many Massachusetts voters, and unlike many other politicians, she seemed hardly even aware of what her detractors thought. Even the most polarizing politicians hear out their opponents. Essentially, did she expect that she could ride the wave of popularity that the Democrats have enjoyed in Massachusetts for a long time, and get in by clutching to Kennedy's coattails? It seemed so. When it became clear that her non-campaign was hurting her, she went into attack mode and, rather than explain her positions beyond "I'm like everyone else and vote the way my party tells me to!", she allowed her supporters to create a nasty, negative ad campaign against Brown that was not even all that truthful. Ted Kennedy was a great Senator who worked tirelessly for his state and for the underpriviledged, and Coakley is not necessarily a worthy successor of his seat just because she showed up and offered herself as a public servant.

On the other side, while I do not agree with several of his positions (waterboarding? seriously???), I found Scott Brown to at least be in touch with his constituents. He took great care to be more than the token Republican and actually listen to the complaints of a good deal of Massachusetts residents. Maybe those residents see things differently than I do, but their votes count the same as mine and there are a lot of them.

I have not addressed the fate of health care. I want to make something clear, which might seem contrary to the spirit of my little rant here: I want a good universal health care option. To live in the country that we live in, while denying people the access to at least somewhat decent care, is shameful. I cannot accept the idea that we can't afford a public option covering every child through age 18 when we can go liberate other countries and install democracy abroad. That does not add up, even if you do support the war in Iraq. We have children here on the streets that cannot stay healthy or help themselves even if they could find a job, and lest I be accused of being a bleeding-heart dreamer, I see these children every day. I know what I'm talking about.

Here's my problem with just electing the last vote to pass this proposal: it's not a numbers game. If the plan, as it is now, is currently opposed by either 40% or 41% of US senators, then there is something wrong. It needs fixing. We cannot pass a mediocre, mixed bag of a plan just so we can say that we did something. We need long-term, financially-feasible health care reform that more Americans can agree on. This is not an impossible task. It will take time and compromise on both sides, but I think that our politicians are more than capable of implementing a system that is fair for all.

Regardless of what happens to this current health care proposal, it needs work. There are far too many Americans against it in its current form. Let's go back to the drawing board and create a bi-partisan, flexible plan that many of us could get behind.

And--speaking as a moderate--if I have to live with my state being equally represented by a moderate Democrat (John Kerry) and a moderate Republican (Scott Brown), well... I can think of far worse things.

A Cut Above

2010-01-17T00:05:00.005-05:00

Today's Greatest Idea Ever (TM): A lawnmower that runs on grass clippings. Think about it. Oh yeah. Don't act like you're not impressed.

Girl in the Corner

2010-01-12T21:37:00.007-05:00

Her coffee was getting colder. She considered walking back to the counter and asking to be topped off, but one glance at the line made it clear that it would cost her ten minutes, easily. In all likelihood, she'd lose her seat as well. How were there this many people out on a weeknight?

Maureen had arrived early and waited to snag the seat she now occupied. It was prime real estate: a leather armchair nestled into the corner by the lamp, where she could see the entire coffee shop laid out in front of her like a panorama. Although she loved the coffee and brought along a novel from the public library, she primarily frequented this corner cafe for the opportunities it afforded to watch people. As the evening wore on and the temperature dropped, many folks would come bustling in from the cold, struggling to remove their gloves and squinting at the never-changing menu while the young server leaned on the counter and waited.

She had been coming to this coffee shop for months now, having discovered it by chance one rainy afternoon when the crosstown bus just didn't arrive for any discernible reason. Providing refuge and a hot cup of tea, Barry's Bean quickly became her second home, and her nightly decaf coffee was her daily reward--always looked forward to, always waiting at the end of a long day.

Unlike the homogeneous business crowd during the daytime, the patrons of the night shift here were an eclectic and fascinating mix of every kind of population. Young college students would come in and fumble with their headphones and portable music devices, while older couples would engage in considerable discussion about the possibility of splitting a sandwich. A few businessmen from the city would often slump in, sleeves rolled up, ready to take one collective step closer to finishing their never-ending paperwork over a hot drink. An elderly woman and her dozing husband always occupied the same booth by the window where she would dutifully narrate that morning's paper to him in Chinese. And every night, at almost exactly 9:10, Officer O'Houlihan would stop in for his usual--large decaf, extra cream, no sugar. It was generally waiting for him when he arrived. That he broke tradition tonight and added an oatmeal raisin cookie to his order had greatly amused Maureen; it was refreshing to see that even the most stone-faced customer was just a little bit human, too.

Yes, it seemed that Barry's was the kind of place that quietly appealed to everyone. It was not the flashiest of coffee shops, but business was steady and the tip jar was always pretty full. Barriers of social strata and age polarization broke down at the door--no match for the crisp smell of freshly ground coffee and apple crumble. "Small Talk" was listed on the menu (it was free). And as the line at the counter stalled, Maureen put down her book and sipped her drink, unaware of how much time had passed since she'd first sat down. She looked out the large window for the moon but it was hidden somewhere in the clouds.

The customer currently ordering was a gentlemen of about forty who was very persistent in knowing the exact calorie count of each baked item before making his decision. As Maureen listened to this customer's interrogation of the clearly overwhelmed high school boy behind the counter, she immediately felt sorry for the kid. He was far too small for his billowing apron and was now attempting to ascertain the caloric value of baked goods he did not make for a customer he could not possibly appease. Even if Maureen hadn't been here before, she could still tell that he was new at this; in fact, the calorie count was listed very plainly on a poster immediately in front of--and facing--his nutritionally-conscious, badgering client.

She intently watched the rest of the line as one might an old black-and-white suspense movie, waiting to see whose patience would wear thin with the querulous customer at the head of the queue. To her growing surprise, however, everyone in line seemed perfectly satisfied with simply waiting their turn. Her eyes focused in on a boy and a girl, both in their twenties. They were both facing the counter and sporadically talking, leaning slightly towards the each other with each whispered sentence. After a few moments of silence between the two, the girl reached out and plucked something off of the boy's jacket shoulder; he looked at his shoulder, glaced at her, and softly smiled. She took hold of his arm and they pulled in together ever so slightly, still not saying anything.

Maureen realized that she suddenly felt different. Gone was the wry smile from observing the middle-aged health nut at the counter. Her stomach seemed to have turned. When she paused to think about it, she recognized the feeling as emptiness. The unoccupied chair to her left came into sharp relief as her eyes wandered, and she struggled to concentrate on the soft, jazzy holiday music playing above her head. This cafe was her refuge and her favorite place in the world, and she realized--perhaps for the first time--that she had never been able to share it with anyone. The joy of that first sip, the relieved exhalation that followed, and the small thrill of wondering what the other customers were thinking about--these were all such important pieces of her life, but had only been savored in solitude. She would have loved to tell someone special all about her visits and how much these little things meant to her.

The couple would head for the door in a few minutes, hot beverages in gloved hands, content to enjoy simply walking into the night together quietly. She told herself that she should be happy for them, and she earnestly wanted to be. When they parted ways later, she guessed, they would both go to bed that night thinking about each other. There's some safety in that.

As the completely defeated server called into the back room for his manager and a nutritional facts guide, the bleakness of Maureen's thoughts enveloped her. At this moment, she thought, everyone is thinking about someone, but I am the only person in the whole world who is thinking about me.

Her coffee was getting colder.

Tangled Up In Green

2010-01-11T16:29:00.006-05:00

It's windy in New York City. After putting it off for weeks, I decided today that I finally needed to get a scarf. As I haven't begun classes or student teaching for the semester yet, I found myself with some free time and decided that this was the day for such a shopping adventure. Insert cryptic, foreshadowing hook here.

I wanted to find something plain, inexpensive, and not douche-y, so right away I knew that Greenwich Village was out. My decision felt justified when the first dude I saw on the sidewalk stepped in front of me with cartoonishly rigid posture and a whiff of arrogance. This young man was rocking Bob Dylan sunglasses and an olive green, WWI-era military jacket, complete with a Gunnery Seargent Marine insignia on his sleeve. He must have thought it complemented his skinny jeans. I debated asking him what unit he served with but he'd have to take out his earbuds to hear me, and he was probably listening to a podcast of this morning's news from Iraq because he is so supportive of his country and all that. I would never want to interrupt this hero as he returned to whatever base in the Village he was stationed at. Also, he seemed like he was in a hurry to get to Qdoba.

I walked up Fifth Avenue on the off chance I could afford something there, but I only can take so many doormen and bellhops eyeing me suspiciously before I have to leave. I strolled over to Sixth Avenue instead to see what Chelsea had in store. Pun.

My first stop was Old Navy. This store has been a standby for me for years, namely because the prices are excellent, the clothes last me a while, and I honestly prefer plainer clothing. If nothing else, solid colors highlight my traffic-stopping good looks. I never found the regular scarf section, but there were a few hanging on the clearance rack and I grabbed one for 99 cents.

That's right. 99 cents. And it was green. Not like a muted green or a forest green or any of that. Green green. Kermit the Frog green. Crayola Crayon green. I immediately liked it for that reason, and the price, but I knew that it would not work for more professional occasions. Still, for less than a dollar, I picked it up if just for the rest of my walk. This was a very intelligent decision.

Having never once even considered the finer points of scarf shopping, I still figured that this would be a quick trip. I was hoping for something gray or white or black--really basic stuff. Shouldn't be hard to find, right?

Well, it was. I struck out at more stores than my friend did when he was trying to land a summer job (Small-Target-Audience zing!). I tried many stores haphazardly as I walked by them, including:

American Eagle: Seemingly hadn't heard of scarves
Filene's Basement: Offered designer named scarves at reduced prices (like only $59!). Also was on the 3rd floor (?)
Urban Outfitters: Would I like to try a shawl instead?
T.J. Maxx: Forced me to realize that scarves might not be unisex. Naive ignorance leads to fear of buying a girl's scarf and getting laughed at.
Dude on the corner: Did not offer colors that pale Irish kids could pull off without looking even more pasty.
Urban Outfitters #2: Very nice scarves for upwards of $28, which is apparently a great price, I am told.
American Apparel: There were scarves in the window, so I checked. I was walking by it anyway. Of course there wasn't anything I would or could wear. Yes, I am ashamed of myself for even trying.

So what did I learn today? First, scarves are apparently not just a piece of fabric, like I had previously thought. Even thought they look the exactly same, scarves must have some secret magical quality that allows them to be fashionable where a strip of wool would not be, thereby jacking up the price. Second, scarves are a hot accessory item that should compliment your outfit (they are, after all, #97 on Stuff White People Like). Silly me for thinking that they were just protective winter gear. Finally, I have absolutely no idea how to pick out a man's scarf, if such things exist. Of the four or five all day that I saw that could decidedly be called manly, none were even remotely in my budget. I might be a cheapskate but I just can't part with thirty plus dollars over a periodically useful rectangular strip of cloth.

I might just stick with my green crayon scarf.

My Blog Turns 1

2010-01-11T16:01:00.004-05:00

On December 31, this blog celebrated its first birthday. I was not there because I was drinking, but it was one year ago that day that I ripped the year 2008 a new one and this blog was born. I'd love to say we've come a long way, but we haven't. The only thing that kept me from delivering a similar kiss-off to 2009 was that I actually had plans on December 31 this time. Shocking. Anyway, hooray for acknowledging insignificant milestones that happened 12 days ago. In the previous decade.

Well Tonight Thank God It's Them, Insteeead of Yoooou!!

2009-12-26T20:04:00.012-05:00

Christmas music stinks, no?

Well some of it is okay. A Charlie Brown Christmas by Vince Guaraldi Trio comes to mind. Anything by Nat King Cole works for me, too. He could probably have cut a CD of him singing the phone book and I'd buy extra copies.

For the most part, though, Christmas music is über-lame. "Santa Baby" is a horrible, horrible song. Other tunes find respected artists taking well-loved Christmas melodies and massacring them; thank you, Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart, for taking the somewhat-tolerable "Winter Wonderland" and making it incredibly annoying.

"Baby, It's Cold Outside" is a horrendous song. I don't know what would ever have prompted anyone to write, sing, or enjoy this song. It levels the playing field by being equally horrid whether sung by the best or the blandest. Every single girl singing this song has sounded exactly the same since the day this travesty was written. And does no one else find this song incredibly sketchy?

The first time I heard "Dominic the Donkey", I thought it was a bald-faced ethnic joke that I wasn't in on. It turns out it's a straight-faced holiday tune and every Italian I know LOVES it. Joke's on me, I guess. I'd like to thank the anonymous customer last week who answered my rhetorical question ("And really, when you think Christmas, what animal do YOU think of?") with a brilliantly witty reply ("Asses, definitely"). Well done, young lady. Marry me.

Back to the task at hand. The last thing we need is more Christmas music; every artist seems to pump out more of the same old crap every year. Wouldn't it be great if we just had one excellent, definitive collection of only good Christmas music? A CD that was so good that Christmas music would be considered as having 'been done' and today's artists would just leave it alone?

Ladies and gentlemen, your prayers have been answered. I have cut a Christmas CD, just in time to be the hot "impulse buy" while you're standing in line waiting to return the XXXL underwear your creepy uncle Timothy gave you. Feast your eyes, and ears, on the final word on Christmas music: A One Hand Clapping Christmas.
Check out what consumers are saying about this collection!

"Eminently regift-able!"

"Less uninspired than the other dreck, but only marginally so."

"Eminem's guest verse on 'If I Hear Mariah Carey One More Time...' is simply inspired, but it's exceedingly uncomfortable. This is still the high mark of the CD."

"'Holy $#@% Dude, It's Freezing Out There' may never be a holiday classic, but it certainly may become the so-bad-it's-good ironic hit of the season."

"Mostly comprehensive, but how could any collection not include 'Silver Bells (It's Christmastime and It's Sh*tty)'?

"Makes for an excellent beverage coaster!"

Don't delay. Pick up a copy or seven at your local record store, and unwind to the soothing sounds of the holiday season before it's over, or...

Well, pick it up for next year then.

Doctor Love, Ph. D

2009-12-17T18:04:00.018-05:00

Every now and then I allow a guest columnist to do my work for me. Please welcome the good Doctor. - Ed.

Good evening there, gentle friends. Let's turn the lights down low for just a second. Doctor Love, Ph. D., is making a house call. How about we go through the mailbag and see if we can cheer up some hearts, no?

Dear Doctor Love,
I have been dating the same girl for over two years and we are madly in love!! We met as freshmen at Uxbridge Technical Institute, and from that first glance... well, let's just say, I knew! It took her a few weeks for her to come around but after being persistent she finally agreed to dinner, and the rest is history! She's been there for me through everything, but there's something I want to know.
This is the first serious relationship I've ever been in. How do I know if she is The One? I have nothing to compare this relationship to. What happens when we leave UTI? I'm afraid to bring up the subject with her, and I don't want to upset either of us. Most of all, I'd really hate to lose her. What should I do?

- Uneasy in Uxbridge

Dear Uneasy,

Wow, what a girl! You're a lucky man, sir. She sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime catch. I think you should dump her.

There are two reasons for that. First, you're a creepshow. You kept asking her out for dinner, even after she said no more than once? Last time I checked, that's called stalking--unless you're attractive, in which case, it's romantic. Secondly, you've only got two years left of college!! There's a lot of drinking that you haven't done yet! You should have been out with the guys from freshman orientation onward. I say break the seal on that one and get going. As a bonus, breaking up with her will help ease your descent into the life-affirming pleasures of alcohol abuse. Best of luck to both of you with... um... UTI.

Dear Doctor Love,
Hello! I am 29 years old and I've been single for over two years! I feel like I'm a smart, outgoing, funny, and upbeat girl, and I love being social. My friends also tell me I'm a really good listener and always dependable. I try to meet guys--in class, at the bars, on the bus--nothing seems to work! What should I do?

Worried in Westchester

Dear Worried,

Are you ugly? I feel like you might be ugly. Pair off with another ugly person and move up north. That's probably the best thing for all of us.

Dear Doctor Love,
Hey, long-time reader, first time writer. Listen, I know that this has been the subject of many second-rate sitcoms and stand-up comedy acts, but I really need someone to give it to me straight. Every time I meet a girl that I'm interested in, we hit it off... but then I find out she only thinks of me as a friend. Every time. What should I do?

Misfiring in Manhattan

Dear Misfiring,

Lemme let you in on a little secret. You are perpetually stuck in the "friend zone". You probably already know this, but I wanted to make sure we were clear. "Friend zone". "Zone of friends". "Oh-no-no-he's-great-but-we're-just-pals". How many weddings have you been to?

Here's the deal. Much like our homely friend Worried in Westchester, you are also probably not attractive. You have everything women want, except looks. As it turns out, until women reach stage 5 (or "old maids", if you bought my book), women want to be seen with someone hotter than their girlfriends' boyfriends. In the meantime, they're happy to keep you around as a friend because you're a schmuck and you buy them stuff. The best you can hope for is pity sex on your birthday, and you really can't afford that much wine. So here's the plan.

Make sure they all have your phone number--when they're staring down the big Four-Oh, they'll call. In the meantime, bolt town with "Worried in Westchester" and have an absolute blast. Out of the public eye, but still. I hope it's fun. Otherwise, you'll be stuck as a maid of honor your entire life.

Dear MR O'CONNELL,
This is your FINAL NOTICE. We still have not received your payments for services or your late fee. Your current balance is $347.25 and must be paid, in full, by DECEMBER 25 2009. If we have not received your payment by this date, we will be forced to suspend your utilities, effective immediately.

Sincerely,
ConEdison

Dear Ed,

I also enjoy utilizing suspenders. Merry Christmas!!

Dear Doctor Love,
My girlfriend of three years accepted my marriage proposal last week, and I couldn't be happier!! Unfortunately, we seem to have hit an unexpected problem. Even after I had received her father's permission (we're old-fashioned, what can I say?) it appears that her family is against our getting married, on account of my not being Catholic. What should I do?

Questioning in Queens

Dear Questioning,

First off, I could have a field day with your pen name, except I've been reprimanded several times by my "progressive" editor that I need to respect all people of the rainbow. Okay, then. Though that would explain why you aren't Catholic.

Anyway... I'd try to get creative and see if you can burn a smiley face into a slice of toast. Then, run over to her parents' pad (seriously, the breathlessness adds to the rouse) and say that the blessed Saint Rocco of Rochester has appeared in your toast. You'll get the honeymoon paid for, too. Godspeed, er... best of luck to you.

Dear DF,
You're a really sweet, wonderful guy, but I think we should just be friends. I hope you're not upset.

Love, Rebecca from your lit class

I... I don't know how that... Hey, I think we have time for one more letter!!

Dear Doctor Love,
How can I keep the swimsuit issue from coming into our home this Valentine's Day? It's my husband's subscription.

Offended in Orange, NJ

Dear Offensive,

Your husband is a lucky man. Do any pre-teen boys live in your neighborhood? Pay one of them a can of beer to sit by your mailbox on February 9th and wait for the mailman. Don't even tell him to take the magazine; just have faith. I'm sure your fears will be allayed, you old bag.

Well, America, that is all the time we have for tonight. Remember, if you have a burning love issue, and you didn't hear about it on Seinfeld, write to the good doctor. Thank you so much for curling up with our latest heart-to-heart, and until next time, don't drink and surf the net. Au revoir et slut!

Editor's note: The editor sincerely regrets the above typo, as well as most of the content of this article. We hope you will excuse the oversight(s).

Adventures in Education, Chapter 15

2009-12-17T17:27:00.007-05:00

Diary of a Wimpy Kid, copyright Jeff Kinney

Seventh Grade ELA, 3rd Period
Teacher: "We've discussed man vs. man, man vs. nature, man vs. world, and man vs. self. What's the central conflict of this novel?"
Student: "I have to go to the bathroom."
Teacher: "That's your central conflict, Evan."
Student: "Actually, it's more like my lower half."

Not a Cat Person.

2009-11-20T19:43:00.012-05:00

To begin this story properly, we must journey back through the mists and sands of time. Imagine, if you will, a time much like your own, but far, far more primitive. A happier, more innocent time, when the air was cleaner and the sun shone just a little bit brighter. Yes, I'm talking about August 30th, 2009.

That day, as I began lugging my awesome stuff down the awesome hall of my awesome new apartment building in awesome New York City, I was eager to find my awesome room and check out my awesome digs. Before I could get there, however, I noticed a living, breathing impediment. Standing between me and my door, as if to guard the hall, was a small, black feline, eyeing me suspiciously.

HOLY CRAP! A BABY PANTHER!!!

It turns out that this menacing creature was not in fact a panther, but a smaller species of panther called a house cat. The irony of a house cat living in an apartment was not lost on this fine English major; what a great teacher I'll make someday! With regard to the problem at hand, however, I did what any brave man worth his salt would do: I scurried past, whimpering and refusing to make eye contact before locking my door behind me (once I figured out how to work the lock).

The next few weeks went by without incident. Occasionally, I would exit the elevator and head toward my room when the coast looked clear, but at the last minute the walking embodiment of terrible luck would dart out into the hall and stare at me. I count myself as fortunate to still be here to talk to you today. I don't know why it refrained from eating me on the spot, but somehow, it let me live.

(See comment thread for photo credits)

This pattern would no doubt have recurred ad infinitum were it not for the intervening hand of my roommate's girlfriend, whom we'll call Liz. Liz, winner of the Kindest Person Ever Award seven years running, loves cats. She immediately fell in love with Annie (the baby panther/"cat") and allowed it to follow her into our room while I was away being The Man somewhere. This would normally not alarm me; I have lived with animals before (men's rugby team, junior year of college). However, a precedent had been set. You see, apparently Annie had what my college roommates could only dream of: memory (especially of the night previous). And you bet your Aunt Sally the Cat Lady that she remembered where our room was and how nice my sneakers smelled.

Annie is here all the time now. It's more than a daily thing. She might actually spend more waking hours in our room than I do. Multiple times a day, I will hear the sleigh-bell on her collar bouncing along until she is at our door, followed by rather pitiful meowing. Once I relent (and I usually do, because I'm a puss), Annie will charge headlong into our room without so much as a hello and proceed to jump on something.

Last week, she hopped up on the table and took a nap on the textbook I was reading (admittedly, it was a pretty boring book, and if she didn't fall asleep on it, I probably would have). She also cannot get enough of my bookshelf, or my bed, or Spike the Wannabe Cactus (the aloe vera plant I bought from Trader Joe's). She hogs my laptop and checks out the bathroom way too much. Wednesday night I found out--the hard way--that she hasn't been de-clawed. And at the present moment she is napping on my bed, which I didn't give her permission to do. I imagine soon she will wake up and ask if she can has my cheezburger.

I guess I understand why some people might be cat people, but I'm not one of them. I'm not a mean guy, but I just happen to hold the unpopular opinion that it isn't always playtime, and I have to get some work done (or blog about it), and occasionally I'd like to sleep in my own bed (preferably if it doesn't smell like fur). A small, carnivorous animal meowing at my door ten times a day is, surprisingly, not something I look forward to. Isn't it a bit presumptuous to just drop by all the time? At least bring a coffee cake or something.

Why anyone would own a panther at all is beyond me.

150th Post!

2009-11-20T19:26:00.007-05:00

...or 27th, if you only count the decent ones.

In honor of this important milestone, I would like someone to throw me a party in East Egg. If anyone reading this could get on that, I'd appreciate it. I'll assume good faith and head over now.

Wow, 150 posts!!1! Never thought my crummy little blog would make it this far. I'd like to thank the good people at Google for making this farce possible. Booze all around. Let's hear it for pseudo-milestones.

Still Not Ready for Holiday Music (but this is fine).

2009-11-20T17:52:00.009-05:00

Bob Dylan has done many surprising things during his career. This music video is right up there, though.

I'm not saying it's busting out an electric guitar at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 (blasphemy!!), but this is pretty unexpected nevertheless. Dylan put out a Christmas CD this year, with proceeds going to Feeding America, but hipsters everywhere are rejoicing in what must be shameless irony. Or is it?

Here is Bob's take on "Must Be Santa", accompanied by a happenin' polka band and a holiday party that straddles the middle ground between A Christmas Carol and Animal House. I think this is great, personally. The video's developments will distract you from the lyrics, but see if you can catch the additional names on the list of reindeer.

Enjoy. Or else there's something considerably wrong with you.

The Ernest Hemingway Approach to Writing Papers: A Fun Game for English Majors

2009-11-14T18:53:00.005-05:00

For 1 player.

Game Pieces:
1 tedious assignment
1 bottle of whiskey or suitable liquor
1 typewriter

Gameplay:
1) Write your name and heading at the top of the paper.
2) Pop open the bottle and pour glass #1.
3) Alternate writing and drinking.
4) Consider yourself in a race against time.

Winning the Game:
Finish the paper before you finish the bottle.

Alternate Gameplay:
Ask for an extension and go out drinking.

Bonus Points:
Gesture towards crotch; yell, "I got your extension right here!!"

A Translation Guide for Instant Message Speak

2009-11-14T17:43:00.004-05:00

You're pretty funny, right? Like you've got a couple zingers up your sleeve, and every now and then you bust out a witticism while schmoozing with friends. But when you're chattin' it up online, how do you know if the person on the other end finds you as hilarious as you find yourself? For that matter, how can you be sure you're correctly reading anything in txtspeak?

Help is on the way. Here's a rough translation guide for you:

WHAT THEY SAY = WHAT THEY MEAN

what up = entertain me.

hey = why did you IM me?

n2m, u? = a lot of things really, and i don't feel like getting into any of them at the moment, but thank you for asking.

just chillin' = i've been creeping on your facebook photos for, like, ten minutes.

ha = not funny.

haha = i am recognizing that you are trying to be funny, and i am placating you with a response.

hahaha = you are funny.

hahahaha = i am laughing.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA = i am laughing at you, not with you.

you up to anything later? = entertain me.

i think i'm staying in tonight = i'm going out, but not with you.

i've got sooooo much work to do = i have as much work as anyone else does.

yeah i'll call you if we do anything = i have no intention of calling you.

:-) = i am a :-( person fishing for a :-) from you so i can be :-) too.

hmmm = i have no response for you but feel like filling the awkward silence. maybe you'll keep talking or change the subject for me.

nice = i hereby bestow upon you the ultimate male comment of approval. your taste is excellent and you are a fine example to us all. rock the fuck on.

what have you been up to lately? = entertain me.

? = i am skeptical

whaaaaaat? = i am, like, extremely skeptical

whatttttttt? = i am, like, extremely skeptical and do not grasp the difference between consonants and vowels.

;-) = let's do it.

g2g = someone more interesting just showed up. i will still be online for another hour, but i'll pretend that i'm not.

kthxbai = my sense of hipster irony places me above all you sheeple. i am witty and cool and shop at american apparel, but i bring my own bag.

Please Clean the Lint Screen

2009-11-14T00:13:00.010-05:00

To borrow a saying from my grandmother, why is laundry such a pain in the patooshki? I mean seriously! My grandmother can turn a phrase.

No but 4 realz yo, where are those magical laundromats that you see in music videos and stuff where lots of co-eds hang out, and gorgeous girls decide to throw what they've got on in the wash, and kids line the floor with detergent for a do-it-yourself Slip N Slide? I want to go to that laundry room, not the one in the basement of this building, where granny panties appear mysteriously and people give me dirty looks when I pull my Halloween costume out of the dryer. Seriously, folks.

Although, to be fair, this was my Halloween costume:

POST-SCRIPT: When I was in college, I accidentally left my clothes in the dryer too long. When I finally remembered and ran into the laundry room, I feared the worst. Instead, some girl had folded my clothes into neat, adorably coordinated piles. I don't know who you are, m'lady, but I love you. Really. Please come find me in New York so we can Snuggle.

If You Don't Understand Math, Just Skip Ahead To The Next Post Where I Make A Naked Lady Joke.

2009-11-11T22:49:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I feel like this is very, very accurate, and it makes me not want to blog anymore. But then, I think, "Hey! I should blog about that!!" and that feeling goes away.

Courtesy of xkcd.com, which I understand sometimes.

Celeb Spotting

2009-11-11T21:56:00.004-05:00

Today I hurried around the corner and brushed past a lady in a white jacket. I turned around and, low and behold, it was Emma Thompson. Well, I thought, I've been seen in public with a celebrity today.

As I met up with the students that I was meeting up with at the meet-up point where we were going to meet up, the students that I met up with asked if I had seen Kate Winslet, too. I look back around the corner and who should be walking away? Kate Winslet. In order to not get made fun of, I needed an excuse for missing so obvious a movie star. So, I said that I didn't recognize her with clothes on. That worked.

Living in New York City is fun.

Everyone Really Wants To Know All About Me!!

2009-11-08T11:36:00.006-05:00

... as they probably should. I'm important.

Apparently, I am a dreamer. I am glad to have this information and eagerly await the day that I might wake up.

Source: http://www.mypersonality.info, and procrastination

Wrap It Up

2009-11-07T21:48:00.007-05:00

Myself, to a few patrons, as an organizer of our Grad Hall Talent Show Preliminary:

"We're also giving out free care packages from the Health Center. And yes, those are condoms for those of you fortunate enough to have a use for such things. As for me, I like to blow them up into balloons and then Sharpie my hopes and dreams onto them. When they pop, you can really hear the symbolism. Anyway, thanks for coming!"

Do-Nut Doo-Wop

2009-11-05T21:25:00.006-05:00

I saw these fine fellows in 2002 in the middle of Absolutelynowhere, Ohio. They go by the stage name Chapter 6. For this number, they graciously allowed their bass (one of the lowest, most resonant basses I've ever heard) to take the solo spotlight. He had previously delivered an obscenely smooth bassline on "Mercy Mercy Me".

Please remember, before viewing: This man's voice part is very low. Bass II. Bass III, if there is such a thing. There might be. He'd be one. Enjoy.

Beats on Repeat

2009-10-24T17:00:00.014-04:00

Ever get really fixated on a song? Like, for whatever reason you just cannot get it out of your head, but you don't actually mind, because you really like that song? As soon as it's over, you want to hear it again? I've been going through a few of these cycles recently.

Last month, I was sweating this song pretty hard. It's from Detroit native Mayer Hawthorne, and if Andre 3000 ever did a Stax ballad, it would sound a whole lot like "Just Ain't Gonna Work Out".

If you can pick up the pieces of your blown mind after that, I'd like to slow it down a little bit with the song that has been stuck in my head all week. I never really cared much about this song until I saw it performed on Sessions at West 54th, but "Missing the War" by Ben Folds Five is the kind of poignant song that can sink in over time--until one day you wonder why you haven't really given it the attention it deserves.

The studio version is good, but the live version used to open their Sessions show is fantastic. Ben's voice is in fantastic shape, and the seperation in the mix gives you a great idea of what all three musicians in the Five are doing. The harmonies are beyond excellent. You can listen to it now, or download it here for your iPod. You're welcome.

Ben Folds Five - "Missing the War (live)"

Balloon Heads

2009-10-23T21:24:00.012-04:00

It is not often that we are blessed with the opportunity to laugh, guilt-free, at someone else's problems. That said, when the aforementioned Mr. Someone Else created all of his own problems, and has a hilariously bad haircut to boot, feel free to yuk it up. Ladies and gentlemen, Richard Heene!

Yes, when Balloon Boy's father was first suspected of maybe kinda sorta not really being all that surprised to find his son hiding in the attic, he asked the press to leave his family alone via the nontraditional isolationist approach of holding a press conference and dragging his suddenly cheered up family onto Larry King Live. Besides needing to be reminded to hug his son on TV, Heene seemed fantastically prepared for prime time. As for Falcon, or "Balloon Boy" as he will be known by his classmates, not so much. As you've seen by now, Falcon spilled the beans about the family's TV aspirations, the sheriff called them out, and finally today Balloon Mom came clean with the hoax.

So where does this leave disillusioned, jaded America? If the Balloon Boy incident of 2009 was a fake, who else is lying to us?!?! Not Anderson Cooper, that's for sure. Richard Henne's TV theme really is catchy.

What's that? Oh yes, Balloon Dad has a theme song. Please have yourself a merry little guffaw:

Alternately, just stare at Erica Hill and pretend that she'd rather flirt with you than Anderson Cooper. Or her husband.

So now that his dreams of "Richard Heene: Psyience Detective" (sic) are deflated (thank you, tip your waitresses!), we get the pleasure of having a good point-and-laugh over this buffoon. It's always okay to lie to people, you know, like police officers and eh... your own kids, as long as you get a TV show out of it. Personally, I'm proud of him for not settling for a mere appearance on Wife Swap (I wouldn't mind settling for Erica Hill, but that's neither here nor wherever Falcon is today). His family should be on TV, dammit. Just because they run the wrong way when they see a storm, are we going to call their nerdy, fringe science endeavors stupid?

Yes, yes we are. You're a douche, Richard Heene, and 300 million Americans know it. You got called out by the AP. Ouch. Hell, even Octomom can probably see how desperate for attention you are. Reality TV is slowly choking humanity, and even those bottom-feeders wouldn't sink low enough to follow your kinda weird family around. Your lack of self-perception is as staggering as your choice in hairstyle. Seriously though, 1997 called. No, that's not a TV station, calm down.

Worst Blogger Ever!

2009-10-20T23:16:00.012-04:00

Hello.

I would like to take time out of my busy, busy schedule (actually, it's weird saying that and not being sarcastic) to acknowledge my fans all over the world--especially the chap from Paris who clicked by yesterday via Google Search in an attempt to learn more about the totally-not-happening "Best of 2000-2010" U2 compilation. Thanks for not leaving a comment, Pierre! Just ring us here in Amurrica the next time France is occupied, k? Thx.

Anyway, assuming you are not Pierre, who totally sucks, I would like to apologize for not having written any substantial updates in a while. Truth be told, English Education programs require lots of reading and writing (who knew?) and I more or less get my fill of creativity by making stuff up in class to sound impressive. I have a couple of entries drafted but I'm not ready to post them yet. This reticence on my part is certainly rare; there are at least 45 entries in this blog that definitely read like the rough drafts that they are. This, incidentally, is the 138th entry--a number of no significance whatsoever.

So, what should I write about? I have lots of entries cooking up that deal with music, but no one likes those (except casual U2 fans from France). My guide to pulling off looking like a native New Yorker could be way better, too, so I need more time. I could bang out some hilarious haiku real quick, but the last blog I wrote for had that and was kidnapped in March, never to be seen again. I suppose I could write a quick compare and contrast, highlighting the upsides of the Patriots wearing throwback uniforms for a quarter of their season this year, but I'd like y'all to stay awake too. You shouldn't actually need another coffee after reading this blog.

Writer's block sucks, no?

It would be a shame if my 3,000th visitor checked out this blog and read this lame entry on the top of the first page (by the way, we're sitting at 2,925 awesome visitors and 1 douche from France). Seriously though, Pierre, I want to beat you over the head with a stale baguette. Don't ever come back to my blog.

An Open Post-It Note To My Classmate Wearing a Brand-New Engagement Ring

2009-10-13T21:15:00.005-04:00

Top 5 Writers Who've Lived on Bleecker Street

2009-10-09T23:58:00.008-04:00

1) Herman Melville

2) Thomas Paine

3) James Fenimore Cooper

4) Allen Ginsberg

5) Me

Help Wanted

2009-10-05T14:20:00.008-04:00

Last night, I had a dream. Wait, there's more! In this dream, two absolutely genius blog ideas came into my head while I was at a bar. Dream Me attempted to text message someone, most likely "Real Me", to get the ideas down before either Me (Mii?) forgot them. This morning, I woke up and checked my phone before realizing that that was the stupidest idea I've ever had.

I'd still like to figure out what I wanted to write about, though. Two of the ideas involved were Chinese food and the snooze button. I forgot the rest. If you can make sense out of that and remind me what fantastic literary excellence I was about to bless the world with, I'd be grateful. kthxbye.

it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Is This Post Ironic? Discuss.

2009-10-04T00:53:00.001-04:00

“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”
- Oscar Wilde

Can I Interest You In Throwing This Away For Me?

2009-10-01T20:25:00.008-04:00

In New York City, people are always standing on the sidewalk trying to get you to take flyers that you don't want advertising services that you want even less. Today in the span of about fourteen seconds, I was handed a postcard about a yoga class (by a very attractive, smiling blonde), a flyer for a paper writing service, and a poker chip worth $25 so I can bet on my grades online. Seriously.

So naturally, I'm thinking... if I play my cards right, I could be working on my flexibility with the very attractive smiling blonde girl while unemployed English majors write my papers and simultaneously tank my grades so that I can make bank.

Misadventures in Education

2009-09-30T14:08:00.008-04:00

Thursday, Grad School, 4:11pm
Reading Group Discussion

Student #1: "Well, 'Warriors Don't Cry' is written by Melba Pattillo, who was one of the nine students to integrate Central High School in Little Rock in 1957."
Student #2: "That was when the president had to call in Air Force troops, right?"
Student #1: "Right. So our actual class activity should be informed by segregation."
Student #3: "There were other autobiographies to come out from those students. Did you ever see The Ernest Green Story?
DF: [joining conversation late] "Is that like Ernest Goes To Camp?"
Student #3: "...no..."

[The rest is silence.]

A Decaf Post

2009-09-28T23:46:00.013-04:00

A "decaf" post means "lower your expectations".

As I finish my decaf Cafe Americano (decaficano?), it occurs to me how apropos the recipe for this drink is (at least in its caffeinated version). Espresso and hot water. Straight and to the point. Wake me the hell up, now. Seems to fit with the international perception of the busy, business-first, socially inept American, no? I think they should explore this line of thinking further with other coffee options. Picture this S'bucks menu:

Cafe Red State
Espresso & cream, kept seperate but Equal™.

Cafe Blue State
Five-bean blend, but in smaller cups that everyone gets for free.

Cafe Canadiano
Similar to Cafe Americano but weaker and served cold.

Cafe Franco
Similar to Cafe Canadiano but weaker and a bit fruity.

Cafe Anglo
Stale Cafe Americano, leaves all three teeth stained.

Cafe Eire
40% ABV

Cafe South Africano
see Cafe Red State

Cafe Somaliano
Delicious imported blend stolen from you while walking on the sidewalk.

Cafe Iraqi
Anyone who claims that indigestion is not a weapon of mass destruction is a damned dirty liar.

Cafe Ruskie
Sludge. Silty, delicious sludge. No, I've had it, that's what it is. *formerly known as Cafe Communiccino

Cafe Sarku Japan
Cat.

My Buddy Info

2009-09-25T22:16:00.002-04:00

Every time I sign into AIM, and the top of the window reads, "DF is available", it reminds me that... dammit... yes, yes I am.

Unrelated Note: Did you ever laugh when you go to sign in and it says "Negotiating..."? I do. Who are you negotiating with? I'd like to think that there is some mid-level flunkie who has to plead to Mr. Big, kneeling on the floor at his desk overlooking his Burbank vista, imploring him to find it in his heart to allow me to sign in. I really, truly hope that this happens.

Words That I Think Sound Amusing

2009-09-22T23:21:00.002-04:00

bucket
trousers
duck
fussbudget
spleen
kumquat
diminutive
turnstyle
farcical
pantaloons
blog
awkward
waist
humdinger
"the fundamentals of our economy are strong"

Big, Shiny New Stuff!

2009-09-22T23:00:00.000-04:00

I've added a search bar on the left panel (ooh!) and some feedback options below each post (aah!). Feel free to say what's really on your mind by using one of the pre-selected feedback terms.

*As per usual, photo completely unrelated.

Thoughts I Thought I Thought

2009-09-22T22:36:00.006-04:00

Round 1: Food is way too expensive. Why can't I feed myself for like $3? I don't care what anyone says; we don't have socialism until I don't have to shell out $8.50 for a sandwich and a drink.

Round 2: If the grocery store across the street continues to sell "Milwalkee Best" for $3.99 a six-pack, I am going to develop a taste for "Milwalkee Best".

Round 3: One-way streets are fantastic for pedestrians. All cities should be like this.

Round 4: WHY do we have to still buy textbooks for school? We already have things like Netflix and Kindle. Is it unreasonable to come up with some form of renting textbooks? I don't want to own most of these anyway! Then you sell back a book in the exact same condition cause you barely used it and you get maybe 20% of what you paid for it. Why do we put up with this? Ridiculous.

Round 5: Hello, future employers! And thank you for stalking me. If you're looking for a context to put my blog in, please know that, in the future, I will refer to this period of my life as when I was trying to "find myself".

Round 6: I am so impressed with the stuff I haven't done yet.

Round 7: I'm also the most modest person I know. Ask me about my humility sometime!

There Is Hope Yet

2009-09-19T13:47:00.004-04:00

Sometimes, particularly after reading a YouTube comment thread, I get a bit down about the human race. So many ignorant people say so many dumb things. In today's world, being loud makes you right, and if you don't hold an extreme view, your opinion is neither heard nor valued. Paul Simon once sang that "a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest". How true that is. We pick our news outlets according to their bias, and still only take in the pieces that fit our own view. Anyone else is an idiot. It's amazing how uneducated and misinformed people can be while still verbally abusing others for daring to think differently than they do. Don't even get me started on the grammar mistakes, either.

Yet, through all this mess, I occasionally find a piece like this one on the 10 Funniest Hijacked Amazon Customer Reviews from this week's Telegraph (UK), and it almost singlehandedly restores my faith in humanity.

Facebook According to DF, Part 5

2009-09-17T17:27:00.010-04:00

H'okay, so... since coming back to school, I have rediscovered the magical time waster that is Facebook. A long time ago, I came to the realization that I was in it too deep and could not just walk away from the often-changing social media site. It is the primary means of contact with more than half of the people I care to know anything at all about, which is strange if you think about it.

I am probably a low-grade phonophobe (yes, that's a real thing) and only pick up the phone to talk to close friends from home, or people I am expecting to hear from. If I don't recognize the number, I will never pick it up. Generally, I get a creeping feeling of claustrophobia when I am on the phone, especially indoors. It's really bizarre. As such, social media like Facebook can help me avoid awkward phone interaction with people I don't really want to talk to anyway! Nifty.

So if I were to ever try to leave Facebook, I know I'd just come right back, bringing a bundt cake and asking if I could come inside and we could "just talk for a moment" (yes, apparently my return to Facebook would be a Lifetime movie). But it's stuff like this Friend Collection Photo Grid stuff that really makes it hard to stay.

Uck! Look at that crap. Sweet tripping grandma on a treadmill, I loathe this stuff. Let's think, for a second, about why I'd be looking at Facebook photos. I am either:

a) Bored
b) Supposed to be doing something else

So when I just see annoying, juvenile crud like this, it either turns my boredom into slight internet rage, or it reminds me that I should be doing something else. Either way, I am forced to reexamine my sad existence, as I note that ten times a day I check Facebook to see... this.

Make a collage of your friends! I'm sorry, is this arts and crafts hour at Sunday school? Check out the SuperFriend App! I'd like you to check out a ditch. Tag your friends who fit each description! How about I tag your face with a size 10 dress shoe?

Facebook, I recognize that you are a fairly necessary evil. I cannot stay in touch with everyone any other way, because I only have so many cell phone numbers and nobody uses Instant Messenger anymore. You are also among the few things I check online, because email = work (that's no fun) and CNN gets more depressing by the minute. But if I sign in one more time to see that I'm tagged yet again by some 19 year old as "The Gentle One", I'm going to throw a refridgerator off of my balcony.

My Parents Really Believe in My Education

2009-09-15T12:47:00.005-04:00

Recently, my parents found two words in the Wall Street Journal that they didn't understand ("peregrinatory" and "obdurateness"), and chalked up their use to the pretension of the author. Rather than pull out one of the many dictionaries in my house, they elected to circle the words and mail the paper to me for clarification.

Food Shopping During an Economic Depression is Depressing

2009-09-15T00:08:00.008-04:00

I've intentionally tried to cut back on the amount of unnecessary snack foods in my budget, but when this week's major purchase was an ice cube tray (and I'm actually excited about it), well... it's just sad. Get me some dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets up in this piece!

Point/Counterpoint

2009-09-13T22:49:00.004-04:00

"Taylor, I'm really happy for you. I'll let you finish, but Beyonce had one of the best videos of all time! One of the best videos of all time!"

"YOU LIE!"

High Class, After Class

2009-09-12T20:33:00.016-04:00

Thursday night, a few of the other fresh-faced graduate students followed the Res Life folks down Mercer Street to something called "Fashion's Night Out". Now, I am completely oblivious to all things stylish and cool, but apparently New York City's (and, therefore, the world's) finest designers open their showrooms (boutiques? stores? shops?) to the public and throw a party. I was lured into tagging along by the promise of free stuff.

That free stuff, it turned out, was booze.

Oh, sweet mother of all that good and pure, free booze. I mean wow. Between you and me, I'm poor. Oh sure, I worked very hard all the time last year and allocated a good amount of that money toward savings, with an eye to the future (which is now the now). That means nothing, however. If you live in NYC and you don't have $700 in cash on you for a quiet Thursday night out, you're poor. So you can imagine my delight when that which I wanted most--an adult beverage--was being handed to me by a tuxedoed gentleman, absolutely gratis, just for showing up.

Champagne, wine, beer... all of it was mine for the having, simply to thank me for browsing the collections of fine designer wear that I could neither afford nor pull off in public. While I felt a bit dressed down in my Old Navy jeans and Reebok sneakers (to my credit, I was wearing a white collared dress shirt, but that was a coincidence), I made the most of rubbing elbows with the likes of Marc Jacobs, Vera Wang, and Josh Hartnett (apparently, he enjoys clothes). This makes me a celebrity by association, and thus I have a line of men's tighty-whities coming out soon.

Despite the cordiality of the affair, I still very much felt like a part of the nameless, faceless throng that would show up at Jay Gatsby's parties. I didn't know the names of half of the designers whose parties I was attending, and I only showed up due to curiosity and the promise of cabernet savignon and Heineken. Still, free booze takes the edge off of guilt, and soon I was chatting up the girl working the door. She didn't say so, but I could tell she was really impressed with my opinions about William Faulkner and the No Child Left Behind Act.

I would like to thank all of the designers (who are coincidentally my neighbors) for inviting us in and serving us wonderful spirits even though we clearly came off like the freeloading twenty-somethings that we are. I promise that if I could have bought something, I would have. I can't promise I would ever wear it, though. I would need a lot more free booze for that to happen.

A NYC Bouncer Calls 'Em As He Sees 'Em; or, "What I Learned on W 13th St This Weekend"

2009-09-07T20:08:00.016-04:00

A sobbing girl sits barefoot on the curb, picking glass out of her foot while a friend tries to compress the blood with her hands and a spare shawl.
Bouncer's Take: [Does nothing.]

After an argument involving said girl, Cocky Drunk Guy is tackled and roundly beaten to a pulp by Chivalrous Drunk Guy. After rearranging the other guy's face, terrified pedestrians unanimously consider Chivalrous Drunk Guy to be the winner. Even the cop was impressed.
Bouncer's Take: [Does nothing.]

I attempt to enter the bar.
Bouncer's Take: "Sorry, no shorts. We can't have that here."

Open Notes to my Fellow Students in the 2nd Floor Student Lounge

2009-09-03T13:47:00.010-04:00

Preface: Being a new grad student, I moved in a week early and have been enjoying the Welcome Week activities. Of the many odd scenarios I had anticipated, one that caught me by surprise was the simultaneous arrival of the freshman undergrads. I am now placed in the odd position of socializing with people who are either around my age (early- to mid-twenties) or definitely 18. I haven't faced this exact scenario since... well, our summer camp staff banquet two weeks ago.

Since I lack the fortitude to simply walk up to strangers and give it to them straight (hey oh!), I will now address the fine scholars sitting near me via my blog, which they undoubtedly love and read daily.

To the fellow asleep on the couch: Sir, you are occupying some prime real estate and you're not even conscious of it. Or conscious of anything. I think you're taking the "Lounge" a bit too literally. Go sleep on the floor and leave the furniture to those who have work to do. Like bloggers and stuff.

To the vocal fellow leading the org meeting to my right: You, sir, are loud. Hot damn. While it appears that the gaggle of girls around you are hanging on your every word, they're probably just laughing at your jokes to be polite. I'm sure each and every one of them is a bright and articulate club member, but they've all demurred to your boisterous anecdotes and one-liners. None of these ladies will sleep with you tonight, but--much like you--I digress. Please continue holding court.

To the org group as a whole: Thank you for using all the chairs. No, it's fine, I'll just sit 10 feet away from an electrical outlet in these armchairs that are oddly facing each other. These armchairs would be ideal for like a meeting or something.

To Girl #2 in aforementioned org group: I love you. Marry me. Unless you're 18, in which case, please have an older sister.

To Poindexter across the way: From one new kid to another, you're a dork. Hang out with me so I can look cooler.

To the indie looking chick in the trendy jeans by the window: I have no idea if you can sing, but I want you in my band which I just thought of and named The Intrepid Magnolias. You can front it and be in all the photographs and do most of the talking when we get interviewed by Paste. That iPod that you occasionally look up from is probably loaded with hip bands that haven't been signed yet. Also, did that tattoo hurt? It looks like it hurt.

To the unseen music programmer for the student lounge: Thank you. The chorus of Pat Benatar's "Black Velvet" will be stuck in my head for the rest of the week. Just awesome. That won't get annoying.

To the girl that just walked by way too quickly: Okay, forget Girl #2. Come back. Please. I love you. Or at least walk by slower next time.

To Girl #2: I'm sorry, there's someone else.

To the girl eating Pad Thai in the adjacent commuter lounge: Wanna commute over this way and share? Sharing is caring.

To the dude walking around with his clearly stuffed wallet in his hands: Are you serious? Have you ever been in a city before? Or even in public?? You're definitely 18. Save some time and just hand off that wad of cash to me. You're going to lose it anyway. Actually, keep $20 and get a haircut. You look like you grew up in a barn.

To the indie chick still by the window: Is that a Nintendo Gameboy? I can't decide if that makes you impossibly cool or seriously uncool. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt cause we're in the same band (which I have now re-named The Denim Hobo Collective), but I suppose it would depend on what game you are playing. "Retro" is a very big gray area to me.

To the pack of new bestest friends that just arrived and took over the lounge: Okay I get it. I'm moving on. You all stink. Secretly I'm jealous of the awesome four years that you still have ahead of you, but on the surface I will now make my über-cool and bored grad student face and head back to my apartment.