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You can’t tell someone that you perused their Facebook profile, even though their profile was not private, i.e. clearly perfectly available to be perused by those curious about them [caveat: they’re dumb at the internet and don’t realize everyone can see everything they don’t designate behind privacy settings]…
You’ve blocked me on Facebook (the modern way of saying “I hate your guts!”) and you won’t even mention my name while in the presence of mutual friends. How did we get to this point? It makes me sick to think that someone who once meant so much to me could start to erase everything.
You continue to move through space. A baby in Montevideo wakes up and cries. A cow in Birmingham is slaughtered. We all keep moving. We only stop once.
Wonder if I should seriously consider dating a girl. She was full of compliments and the hook up was about me. I can’t think of one man I have dated who I could say both things about.
I was digging around this place looking for tape recorder batteries. I had a phone interview half an hour from then and was trying to avoid running up the street in the rain to buy some of my own. “Perhaps this white box beside the DVD player will contain some,” I thought to myself. I thought wrong.
But if you look at movies and TV, we certainly privilege one network over others: the network we call civilization. That is, other people. I, for one, used to be quite taken with the human condition — with character studies and portraits, with human history, with how people operate.
Let me refresh your memory, because I assume my headshot is nowhere to be found in the theater anymore: you decided you wanted to put on a production of Thoroughly Modern Millie and needed two Asian guys to play Chinese-speaking henchmen. I was performing a bit in college and was talked into auditioning by a friend of mine.
Like the meat product from which it gets the name, spam is a special sort of deception. The promise sounds great: it’s easy, it knows us inside and out, all we could ever possibly desire is right there within the particulars of its offer. Spam knows how complicated my life is most of the time and has made it simple for me.
this is page one of the test article CLICK TO THE NEXT PAGE…
You wore basketball shorts and a white t-shirt and I remember being O-B-S-E-S-S-E-D with that look. Your vibe was so “I’m leaving the GF at home while I get my David Gest on!” and I was definitely picking up what you were putting down.
In New York, I often find myself playing Tag. By that, I mean I see something I like, peep the price tag, then run away. In Chicago, I looked at a tag and was like, “I’ll take two, please wrap them so that I can present myself with a gift-like reward for being awesome at shopping.”
Is there anything more torturous than the first “I love you” in the context of a relationship? I mean, I’ve never done anal, so I can’t be entirely sure. Nevertheless, when you realize you’re in love with the person you’ve been dating, not only do you have a Jekyll and Hyde style fight to not flip the crazy switch, your life also begins to resemble a violent and strategic war game (at this point COD aficionados may rejoice), usually against no one but yourself.
I took two more pills in the morning, and to help with nutrient absorption, I ate three scrambled eggs with a can of green tea. Again, I had a surge of restless anxiety without any clear cause. I considered the possibility that maybe a lifetime of vitamin deficiency had spared me from my real self, my anxious restless self; that I simply hadn’t had enough nutrients to sustain the level of neurosis my brain yearned for on a neurochemical level.
You learn the procedures, you become familiar with how the different coffee tastes and what it mixes well with. It’s not some magical set of spells and incantations that you learn over high-moon ceremonies as you sacrifice a chicken with your shift manager–it’s making god damn espresso.
I know you’ve spent many restless nights wondering what Disney’s Beauty And The Beast would be like if it were redone with a gay sassy voiceover. Well, consider this video to be your Ambien dose!
My friend and fellow Taurus told me to go to her girl at her salon for my first Brazilian bikini wax. I was five minutes late (obviously) and the bikini waxer was waiting for me in the lobby. The salon was very serene and soothing so I thought maybe I was in for a kind of relaxing experience. LOLLLLLLL.
I’ve reached this point before, when it’s too late for pills because I’m already too anxious. If I take the pill, my breath will slow and my heart will stop. I’m alone and who will make sure I’m okay, who will save me 30,000 feet in the air? Not silver-haired man. Not anyone. It’s too late, I decide, now I have to stay conscious or I’ll have a heart attack.
With Facebook and Twitter, we’re able to track people’s successes and failures, the latter of which can be particularly painful to see. We are reminded everyday of where we’re at in our lives or, in many cases, where we’re not.
Well! Turns out the most important thing about Ambien is that once you take it, you should immediately get in bed, turn the lights off, and close your eyes.I can’t stress this enough. If you don’t do that, parts of your brain turn off, but your body keeps functioning. Literally, the lights are on but no one’s home.
On the surface, fantasy football seems to combine two things that I love: Math and sports. While I am facially very nerdy, I enjoy athletics more than comic books (though not quite as much as grammar). I like to pore over a stat sheet, and as a kid I would keep track of league leaders in several statistical categories every morning before leaving for school.
The most wonderful thing about Paul Simon’s songwriting is that it’s deeply contextual and yet completely context-less in the sense that it’s culturally weighty enough to exist permanently within its moment and yet semantically ambiguous enough that it can be easily reappropriated to inform an infinite spectrum of collective and personal situations. But that’s not to say his words are ambivalent—quite the opposite, they are designed so as to belong to anyone and everyone.
At the tender age of 19, I started dating a contemporary ballet dancer. His knowledge of art and culture, I thought, would elevate my aesthetic acumen. We would cry ugly tears at Balanchine’s Swan Lake and convulse with laughter at Les Ballets de Trockadero de Monte Carlo and make out during intermissions in Manhattan’s most pretentious cultural venues…
She’s managed to get the respect of the notoriously superficial fashion world as well as the feminist intellectuals, which is no small feat. Everyone loves Tavi. Everyone secretly wants to be Tavi. She’s a dream teen. She’s the precocious child you thought you were growing up, but are now second guessing.
In spite of my young atheism and my naïve devotion to scientific optimism, profoundly religious works of literature shaped my spirit. The first novels I read, in the summer between second and third grade, were The Chronicles of Narnia.
Recording sessions for Tha Carter IV began back in 2008 after the release of aforementioned Tha Carter III, but were put on hold and pushed back while Weezy went to jail, where, by the way, he managed to release a full-length studio album.
It’ll be tortuous, especially if you still want to sleep with them because you’re no longer allowed to do so. You own no more stocks on their body. You’ve been bought out. As you sit there actively trying to be friends, you’re going to grow resentful about the fact that you can longer kiss them.
Arrive at realizations that everyone else has already reached, crude truisms you’d idealistically dismissed or ignored. Money is power, pretty is good, sexism is the status quo. Adults don’t know what they’re doing, most mistakes matter, and you will never be cool.
And then I realize—if a fart comes out of my ass and I’m listening to my iPod and can’t hear it, it doesn’t mean that the people squished against me in the peak hour commute can’t either. In other words, although I am deaf to it, my tree fell in a forest heavily populated by people with healthy aural capacity.
We hover and flap over the echoey expanse between undergrad and professional life like cartoon birds. We go almost nowhere and neither do the stacks of empty PBR cans from the shacks of houses we illegally cram ten people into. There will be a better word for this, later.
You can expect spending a lot of days in bed and ignoring people’s phone calls. I’m really into going off the grid and getting high on each other for nine hours. Has anyone noticed that when you spend all day in bed with a lover, it feels like a drug binge?
On my first night, after freshman orientation, I’d start a cassette-only record label with the American Apparel model down the hall. We’d release dubstep remixes of witch house songs and make out in front of popular party photographers. We’d break up after she cheats on me with Ezra Koenig, and then I’d write a 20,000 word blog post calling Vampire Weekend our generation’s Boston.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
The right answer is at this company, functioning as an indispensable member of our team. You won’t want to be that after five minutes of working here, let alone five years; but play along.
Have you guys ever heard of a band called, Tampon Bicycle Murders? They’re intense. I couldn’t really find a legitimate Myspace page for them or anything but there was just this one kind of shady “zine” from 1998 that briefly mentioned them as “Portland’s next big all-female punk band.”
I have to reprogram my life from ‘we’ to ‘I’. It’s weird to think when I tell my kids about my early 20s, I probably will just ramble on about all the things I did even though it’s really all the things we did. But once that painful extraction begins there is simply no return.
How do you get someone to have sex with you? First things first, don’t go looking for it! That would make too much sense. You should be actively not looking for sex when you’re on your search to get laid. Does that make sense? I’m sorry if it doesn’t. I didn’t make the rules.
I woke without opening my eyes. I was small, I don’t know, maybe 7 years old? Do you still even lose teeth when you’re 7? No matter—all that I know is that I was small, smaller than I am now, that it was dark and quiet, and that I had been woken up but my eyes were still closed and I had lost a tooth the day before.
When I moved to Japan, I had pretty shiny visions of my Japanese self. I’d be demure, technologically savvy, adept at sushi-rolling and so so thin. I’d wear short sassy skirts with long socks and clunky heels; my hair would be thick and to my waist, and I’d eat raw eel and raw eggs with aplomb.
Popular cartoons had protagonists that are average, problem-burdened individuals just like the rest of us (Hey Arnold, Doug, Pepper Ann, As Told By Ginger, etc.), thereby signaling to their young audiences that it’s perfectly fine to be awkward and uncool and to avoid the beaten path—a call-to-arms to future hipsters everywhere…
Graduate high school and decide to spend the summer in the city you were born in, Prague. To that end, decide to acquire some sort of gainful employ so as to mitigate the feckless-sheltered-kid-taking-advantage-of-really-sweet-family-apartment factor…
This is what draws me to Provincetown. It represents homosexuality at its most kooky and irreverent. You see a gaggle of old gay men in a restaurant at happy hour who look like they’ve been friends for decades and it fills you with a sense of pride and belonging.
Most of my friends want to become novelists. The rest want to be screenwriters. It’s a calling, they say, and apparently everyone I know has it. I don’t even live in Brooklyn. How is this possible?
Let me first say that I’m thrilled with your decision to move. Your classiness really knows no season. Long summer nights spent swearing at each other while splashing around in your above-ground pool. Leaves gently falling on your collection of faded plastic outdoor toys [although you have no children under the age of 18]…
I’ve reached this point before, when it’s too late for pills because I’m already too anxious. If I take the pill, my breath will slow and my heart will stop. I’m alone and who will make sure I’m okay, who will save me 30,000 feet in the air? Not silver-haired man. Not anyone. It’s too late, I decide, now I have to stay conscious or I’ll have a heart attack.
In a relationship, it is almost guaranteed that you will get fat and happy. You will lie contentedly in her arms on your plush couch among your eclectic throw pillows and reflect on how lucky you are. You will order in and eat out. In a spirit of domestic goddess-osity, you will attempt to cook dinner from scratch, which will of course result in half the kitchen on fire and subsequent takeout from the Chinese bistro down the street.
You’re at your desk, but then suddenly you’re at the vending machine. How did you get there? Did you float? Oh. Is there a tiny unicorn for sale in the vending machine?! It’s waving at you from E7. Its tail is multi-colored streamers. Its hooves are Oreo cookies. No, wait. You’re blinking. Your eyes were closed. How long have your eyes been closed? Where did that unicorn/cookie go?
“Scott,” he says. “I know Bill has been playing every single minute for us for the past year-and-a-half, since right after that fall formal, you know, when he came up to me at the punch bowl and started rubbing my back and said, ‘Why don’t you give me a shot at the title, coach?’ But you know what? You’re going in there the second half. Thing is, though, you can’t tell Bill.”
It’s no secret that women and bathrooms have a special relationship. We like to go in groups, stay in there for about two rainy seasons, and often come out an entirely different person.
Las Vegas loves an unnatural wonder—there’s a a faux-New York skyline along Las Vegas Boulevard, a replication of the Eiffel Tower, and a giant Sphinx outside of the Luxor Hotel modeled after Egypt’s original. People take photos in front of them, though it’s hard to know what, exactly, they’re trying to remember through photographs of phony statues.
As of late, however, there seems to be a shift happening. You can feel it in the air, in the rustling of leaves. It’s as though, and perhaps we are all to blame, you’ve overstayed your welcome. What was once charming and novel has become all too familiar and, well, invasive.
My dad is my hero, like Gerard Depardieu in that movie. He says a lot of things; not all of them are right, but it doesn’t stop him from saying them.
