Anything could happen

Has this ever happened to you: You'll be listening to a song and think, "Gee, I really like this song," then you'll tell someone about it and they'll say something like this, "Yeah...but did you know it's really about murder/death/some other really depressing thing you hadn't thought of."


Like, for example, this happened recently during my obsession with Ellie Goulding's "Anything Could Happen." I was really digging this tune (I say "digging" now, someone please force me to stop) and listening to it on repeat at work. It really made me feel like "Oh, this day is full of potential and promise." FALSE this song is not uplifting, it's about a car crash. It's not: Anything could happen, you might meet the love of your life who is really funny and smart and totally wants to be in a relationship right now. It's: Anything could happen, you might get in a car crash. Thanks, Ellie. I really needed that. Awesome. *

This happened really unexpectedly to me two days ago, while I was listening to Christmas carols with my family. I was really enjoying the Christmas spirit and then 'God Bless Ye Merry Gentlemen' came on and I hear this, "To free all those who trust in him from Satan's power and might." Merry Christmas -- Don't forget about Satan.

*Watch the video. It's true.

This email is important

Gmail has added super advanced technology that marks your emails that may be important with a yellow tab. I was wondering how they managed to figure this out (and why all of my emails were so 'important') when this super informative tab popped up and explained it to me:

Sorry, WHAT, because it was "sent directly" to me? It's in my Inbox which is literally attached to my personal email account, and my email account is my fucking name - there is absolutely no confusion about where the email is going. "Oh, this other email hasn't been marked "important" because it took a really circuitous route before it arrived here. First it went to a small elf who re-typed it and then the elf sent it to you: Not important." 

It's like for a while I was really sketched out by the Ads that appeared in my Inbox, but now they're all for gyms and engagement rings, and since neither of those things are in my near future I'm not too concerned anymore. 

What's your emergency?

Last Thursday I decided to break out of my comfort zone and go out on a school night -- which was like really awesome...until someone stole my phone.

So this thief, this CRIMINAL on the run, is probably making all sorts of sweet calls, sending important texts, and choosing great filters for artistic pictures (I know because this is what I did with it) but then I started to track him on the iCloud, and apparently the next step was to go with the police to the identified location and make the arrest. Here's the thing: The only way to get in contact with the police is to call 911, so obviously I had to call and when they said, "What's your emergency?" I had to say, "My iPhone has been stolen."And then they didn't come, so I had to call back...and you can't just give them a "ring back" and be like "Hey, what's up? I've just been waiting for you, and I wanted to make sure you were coming to this non-emergency situation. It's just that I think people have been trying to text me."

That is always the worst part when you do get your phone back (which I didn't). I always think, "Wow, I've probably received a lot of incredible important messages" but then when I check it and there's just one text from my mom saying, "Are you there? Did someone steal your phone?".

Dynamic Dining

When I got out to a restaurant, I am not going out to meet the other people there; I do not want to "network" with the other diners. Tragically it doesn't matter what you want.

You are especially susceptible to new friends if your table is seated close to them. You'll be hanging out, minding your own business, eating something incredibly healthy like a bacon-cheeseburger and someone will go, "Oh my gosh is that the cheeseburger?" No, it's a fucking waffle - YES it is the cheeseburger, I'm here to provide answers to all of your questions about the menu; let's keep talking.

This is a cheeseburger.

The real problem, however, is that this is just a leading question, a hook to reel you in and get your fantastic conversation in gear. And then it will never stop because then, even if there is a break, you can still kind of over hear each others conversations. All that has to happen is for you to have one more thing in common and then BOOM: "I heard you guys mention the state of New Jersey, we've also been to New Jersey."

Once I was having brunch on a Sunday morning that was more of an extension of the night before, and my roommate (NOT MY PARENTS, A REAL PERSON MY AGE!) and I sat down really close to this couple and I couldn't help it, I just had to talk to them - but then I couldn't get out of it, until their delicious appetizers came and I said, "Hey, wouldn't it be funny if I ate that."

You are amazing

When I think of exercise, I think of playing sports and having a real tangible goal. This is why I had so much trouble just running at first: Where am I going? Oh, I'm just going to run in this straight line to an end point and then I turn and run back the same way and feel good about it. It's like climbing to the top of a mountain and then climbing back down - reaching the top of a mountain is the worst metaphor for anyone talking about accomplishments. "Amazing job! Now, please, just walk down slowly and cautiously."

This made Soul Cycle an entirely new concept to me; not only was I going to be riding a bike in place (Progress rate: 100% guarantee of no movement whatsoever), but there was going to be a lot of emo shit going on at the same time. Also, I don't like the word "soul", it's kind of like saying "magical." The thought of sweating in a dark room with candles and motivational sayings did not seem like something an athlete does. CONFESSION: I fucking love it. When I'm on my bike and I'm biking so hard and going nowhere, I feel amazing. Then the instructor says something like "Love yourself!" and I'm like, "hey, no problem. I AM THE BEST."

Private Sesh

I first learned about Spotify via Mark Zuckerberg, who introduced the idea to me after explaining that open graph on Facebook would be so totally awesome that you might never have to speak with people again. I thought, "Hey, cool, thanks friend. I was super concerned with the election coming up next year that I might not get an accurate count of people voting or, even worse, might not understand their levels of enthusiasm ( I VOTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), but the Timeline, the Newsfeed, and apps have really opened new doors for me."

I wasn't super stoked about the idea of publicizing my music choices on Facebook. Then I got great news from Spotify, "Don't worry, you can 'Private-Sesh' that shiz". Listening to Cher 'Believe' again? Private Sesh. Music choice lack diversity and you only play one song probably Rihanna but that's okay no one's judging (but maybe they are)? Private Sesh. So I was sesh-ing it left and right, but then I feel like it got weird.

Like, "Bob was listening to Holy Ghost but now he's in a private session." WHAT is Bob doing in there, in this private session of his? Not to mention the fact that the private session icon look like a total pervert. It's a picture of this guy in a fedora with black glasses on. What kind of private session does that look like? When I see a guy like that in real life I'm not like, "Oh, he must be hiding his music preferences."

PS. I will be blogging again.

The Faster Times

Hi one billion + readers,

I am now blogging for Business Flannel on The Faster Times. This was direct result of the following blog names being unavailable:

NowI'mPoor.blogspot.com

PayingRentIsn'tCool.blogspot.com

IfItsNotCerealIWontEatIt.blogspot.com


DoormenAtNewBuildingsAreStillJudgemental.blogspot.com

NeighborsAlsoGiveYouWeirdLooksAt4AMWhenYouHaveFriendsSleepOverWhyAreTheyDoingThat?.blogspot.com

Living with your parents is cool

The name of my blog has been up for debate should the time ever arise that I move out of my parents house, but you know what: Whether or not I actually live at home has nothing to do with the inherent "coolness" of living with your parents. Living with your parents is cool. 

Okay, clearly setting you up here. Like when people tell you something really great and it's because they're about to manipulate the fuck out of you--you have to be on your toes. ANYWAY: I've moved out. I am not living with my parents anymore. Last night was my first night away from ma and pa, so I feel like I am being pretty honest with you here. Here are things I'm concerned about:

1. Food: Where will it come from? 

2. My room: how will I ever remember to clean it without being told? 

3. My current location 24/7: How will anyone know my whereabouts since my mother won't be able to give them an update?

4. Missing items: how will I find them if no one asks me where I last put them.

5. My computer and all other potentially electronic items: will they charge themselves? 

I was living my building the other day and I was pretty excited to be "getting my own place" so I told my doorman. I was like, "Guess what! I'm moving out," and he said, "Are your parents coming with you?"

It's been too long

If the last time you hung out with someone was a really long time ago, chances are you're going to get something like this "I haven't seen you in ages."

Let's break this down because it actually sounds kind of creepy. Actually let's throw in this gem of a comment too (just before we get going): "Where have you been hiding?"

Where have I been hiding? Super secret places. I tried to watch you from afar first but then I got much better at hiding--I can't reveal the spots, as I'm sure you understand--but they allow me a full view of you, and the things you are doing. Like that time you went to the supermarket and couldn't find the asparagus in the veggie aisle--I was actually right there, hiding, "evading" your glances, looking at you but never revealing my position.

2 am tomorrow morning:

This is about one step away from a calzone: Here wrap up this whole fucking pizza and eat it at once.

1. The Airplane

I've titled this "Airplane" so that I can keep with the transportation theme but it boils down to this: people who are so super silly when they shouldn't be.

This happened to me recently when I was on a flight at midnight. We're about to take off, the stewardess is giving her really informative information so when we all come to a water glide landing like the Hudson Miracle we'll be prepared. Does any of this sound real: We'll land on the water, then you can put on these nifty life jackets, and these big inflatable slides will pop out of the plane and you'll slide down. So she's talking and the person next to me is reading, and she goes, "Hey youuu don't read! I know you're not listening!!! HAHAHAHA!

Do not joke ma'am. This is not a time for laughs or jokes. We are tired and your sophisticated sense of humor is being lost. It's like when you buy a lot of chocolate at the grocery store, and they're like, "Is this all for you? HAHA" Um yes, it is. Do you have a problem with that? I'd rather you didn't laugh because I'm already going home to binge and eat my feelings and now, that you've made it worse, I'd love if you threw in that snickers bar on the house.

2. The Subway

You might think I couldn't possibly have any more to say about the subway. You would be wrong.

I was on the subway with my friend yesterday. Here's the friend sitch: He thinks music in the subway is awesome, I think it is the most annoying thing in the whole world. We've talked about it.

I hate when people play music on the subway--and they'll play super fucking loud--and then I have to avert my eyes or pretend that my headphones are fucking magic and there's no way I can hear whats going on because I'm already listening to some pretty cool jams. This is what happens yesterday:

Two Jamaican drum players come on the subway, one sets up two bongo drums and the other one has his guitar. And this is real life: They start calling out people on the subway who don't say hello:
"You reading the magazine, how are you? You not going to say anything? You're really not, you're rude." "Hey who can send us some positive energy?" This is was my worst nightmare realized.

Obviously the last thing I was going to send them was some positive energy, but you know who was? My friend, he sent them positive energy FedEx. So then when they start playing AND THIS IS FUCKING REAL they throw him a samba shaker so he can keep the beat in shakes.

3. Taxi

Here's a real story:

I was getting out of a cab last night, I had just passed over the cash money, and the taxi driver goes, "Close the door when you get out." Let me repeat this: I was leaving the cab, I had arrived at my destination, and he tells me to close the door.
WHAT ELSE COULD I POSSIBLY DO?

Excuse me sir, I know we've just arrived by I was hoping to leave my door open after I exited; in fact, could you give me a second? I think I could probably make it around the other side of the cab and open that door too. If you could get the doors upfront, I think together we could get a really nice cross breeze.

Nicki Minaj

I'll be writing an actual "post" soon, but here's some music to tide you over.

SORRY

I will be back this weekend. I've been in Texas. I can only imagine how devastating its been to have no new posts. 

Try listening to this song once

Collector's Edition

I was up in the Adirondacks this weekend and noticed a collector's edition of Jenga sitting by the game area. This made me start thinking about "Colletcor's Editions" what is the the deal? Like, here is some random crap but you know what? Now we're going to put this crap in a very special package so you can collect it. Hey, thanks. I wanted to play Jenga, but I wanted to play Jenga with John Deere stamped all over it. Why? Because I'm a Jenga collector and I don't fuck around with packaging.

Collecting is sort of weird to begin with. When I still played with barbies in like 9th grade, I'd always say, "I just collect the special edition barbies." What? NO. I played with Barbies, all of the Barbies. I would buy the ones in the special boxes to keep up the facade, and then I would take them out of their box and create lots of scenarios and change their clothes.

It's Friday, thank god

PIAMBF presents:

Here's to your Saturday

I can only imagine I ruined your whole Friday night since I didn't put any music up. SO here are two songs:

And here's a remix with two of my favorites (honestly, I DIE. Who could have thought things could get better):

I'm up

I don't know if you can see what time it is when I post this, but right now it's 6:54. I've been up since like 5:30, worked out, made some coffee. Now I'm NOT trying to be like, "fuck yeah, look at my morning. I am accomplished." I'm talking about being a morning person. I am obnoxiously a morning person. If you have a sleep over with me, I will roll over at 6 and be like, "Hi," and if you don't say, "I love you and you are the most beautiful person in the whole world" immediately, I'll wake you up. It'll be with something really self evident too; like, "Hey, I'm up."

The worst case scenario is if a bartender has been too compassionate and generous the night before. I'll wake up at 7 and be like, "I'm ready to greet the day!" Sometimes I'll put on the gym clothes, walk around a bit, and then realize that running right now wouldn't be safe. Another problem is that sometimes I'll go out and I'll buy completely useless stuff. When I was in college there was a store next the coffee shop  which was, to steal a fucking awesome quote from DeLillo, "so steeped in kitsch you could die from buying a postcard." There were like witty folders, funny magnets: where the fuck are you going to put these; crazy cocktail napkins: for all the cocktail parties you have; candy: stop eating, etc...Anyway, so I would go into this store and be like, "I NEED this." Then I would go home, pass out, and wake up again fucking prepared to organize things with a sense of humor and hold things on my fridge with a giggle.