new year, new you, right?

and by "new you" i'm referring to the male species.

almost in its entirety.

in 2012, the male species should have made a very important resolution.

a resolution so desperately necessarily it could make or break civilization as we know it.

what is it?

a world without plaid shorts.

yes, you heard me right.

the male species' need for plaid shorts was unprecedented in 2011.

not only would the male species wear plaid shorts, they would also identify a single color of said plaid and match their t-shirt to it.

disgusting, i know.

it can't happen anymore.

men won't get laid as long as plaid shorts are allowed to exist.

if no one is getting laid, no one is having babies - legitimately or illegitimately.

so, male species, it's your move.

make the right choice - wear regular shorts.

our future depends on it.

#khaki

lord, how i waste time on the internet.

i should note that i waste time in a very good way, though.

it's mostly educational.

for some reason i am compelled to check the chicago tribune, new york times, and CNN website while, sometimes simultaneously, watching endless amounts of youtube videos pointing out the misrepresentation of facts/dog-and-pony-show antics that are the FOX news channel.

it's sick.

me, not fox news channel.

well, wait, fox news channel is definitely sick, too. so never mind.

it's all sick.

is there treatment for this?

since i've self-diagnosed my symptoms into a full-blown case of news ADD, i'll go ahead and write my own prescription:

to-do lists.

they're extremely helpful. since I purposely wake up at the crack of dawn to relax and gently ease into the work day, I often take a couple of minutes to jot down the waning to-do's of my day-to-day life.

and wow, does making an obnoxiously-sized check mark next to each accomplished agenda item feel spectacularly wonderful.

that was a fun sentence.

top of today's to-do?

eat less.

the problem with twitter.

the problem with twitter is that i can't stop tweeting.

but, more often than not, i hate what people are tweeting.

people use it to be this "mirror mirror on the wall"

especially NY'ers. they're the worst offenders.

i use twitter to spark conversation

do you agree, disagree, care?

for example: nate berkus once tweeted me and i thought it was the greatest thing ever.

until i started following him.

and all he tweeted was:

1) RTing something flattering that someone else said
2) hocking his boyfriend's cologne
3) marketing for his show/biz

BARF.

another person I started following seemed to be a crowd favorite.

a scan of this person's tweets proved humorous.

so i followed.

and then, somehow, thereafter

the only thing that stuck out to me was how often this person would tweet about farting.

don't get me wrong: i like a drink as much as the next guy. or girl.

but as i near the big 2-0

dammit, i mean...3-0

i've come to realize that i no longer enjoy getting wasted.

what has happened to me?

i can remember my finer moments: iowa city, puking in someone's backyard. new york city, puking in an alley (yes, there are a few) while nearly getting mugged in my drunken stupor home, wherever it was. what's my address? i eventually found it. puking out of a rental car in indianapolis (as a passenger), and just...3 weeks ago, puking my brains out after a small scale indie-electronica concert whose musical stylings did not, under any stretch of the imagination, warrant double vodka water after double vodka water.

oof.

what i can specifically recall about all of those instances is that i lost all control. and live to regret it.

how i've managed to not jaywalk and get hit by a bus, i have no idea. but i'm thankful.

what i now know is that in all of those moments, the best part was the buzz. the buzz is that magical moment when things are amplified, and you can feel it, you can remember it. yes. who doesn't enjoy a good buzz? non drinkers, i suppose. but personally, i don't trust non-drinkers. i don't like the way they look at me as i make the honest effort to enunciate. to appear sober, like them.

buzzkills. you win, congratulations. where's your trophy.

anyway, i enjoy embracing that small window of time when you feel better, fun, open to suggestion. it's what partying should feel like.

and then that damn shots-shots-shots song comes on, so you do one or ten, start drinking without tasting, start not remembering things. puking.

oof.

going forward, that small window of time - where things seem good, seem fun; i'm going to recognize the moment and enjoy it.

you're partying, ryan. have fun but keep it cool.

and reign it in so i can wake up the next day before 9am, tend to my garden, vacuum dog hair, and perhaps polish silverware.

bring it, 3-0.

are you watching the republican primary debates?

before i begin, let me make one thing clear; i'm not anti-republican.

i'm anti-stupid people.

considering such, is it just me or does the entire line-up of republican nominees consist of undeniable morons?

wait, wait...i take that back. i misspoke. there is actually one non-moron up there.

john huntsman.

but, isn't it strangely ironic and mostly humorous that he is probably the least popular among republican voters?

wait, he's not even at most of the debates. is he still running? if not - smart move.

oh, and cain, unlike the rest, did catch my eye a time or two although merely for the fact that he offered an actual plan.

a catchy plan with a catchy a name. too catchy, though. too eerily similar to pizza hut's 5-5-5 deal.

and the kicker to me is that even pizza hut's 5-5-5 deal made no sense. unless i missed something, i believe the hook was you can order up to 5 pizzas of any size, with up to 5 ingredients on them for $5 each? is that right?

seemingly amazing, but wait one second. why did size matter? what normal person would opt for a small pizza rather than a large, if they all cost the same? if i'm screwing that up, my apologies, but to my defense who can follow the details during a 30 second clip of rolling pepperonis and gooey cheese stretching across the screen?

i digress.

so, what if cain became the president of the united states?

could you imagine?

could you imagine any of these people being the POTUS?

COULD YOU IMAGINE IT?

i used to be anti-obama, mostly because i thought he was all talk.

which, don't get me wrong, obama's smooth operator appeal is undeniable.

he's a great speaker, is a wonderful father & husband, and has a progressive approach.

but my chief concern was that he lacked in getting things done.

HOWEVER

what i hadn't considered in entirety is why he can't get anything done.

republicans.

they all shop around their glossy soundbites of: obama has failed us, obama hasn't done this & that, obama hasn't solved our problems.

they certainly caught my ear. america is in trouble. no question.

but let's take it past obama. after all - he can't single-handedly decide the fate of our country.

oh yeah, congress. they're a part of this mess, too. a big part.

time after time, they stop him from going forward. on everything. on anything.

they want to stop his momentum toward solving problems. they are the obstacle.

republicans want america to stumble, stop, and regress during obama's presidency so that

and this is big

so they can check mark his failures with their big, red pens - then spew to america how they're going to change things when they are president.

selfish. detrimental. destructive.

unacceptable.

sabotaging america today so that they can get elected tomorrow?

it's sickening.

obama may not be perfect, but at least he is acting in our best interest - not reacting in self-interest. he has a vision for a better america and it's more than anything any republican has offered in my lifetime.

PS. this is not new information.

i've just had enough.

i walk the fine line of hypocrisy every single day.

point: it drives me absolutely nuts when friends/family post millions of pictures of their kids. status update after status update concerning what their kid did, said out loud, or threw up in the middle of the grocery store. interrupting my riveting commentary on political injustices to inform me that their kid was elmo for halloween.

so annoying. it's one of my least favorite things.

but i imagine that's how my friends/family feel when i post a million pictures/videos of my two dogs sleeping. eating. playing tug-of-war. posting status update after status update of what my dogs chewed up, barked at, or threw up in the middle of the dog park. interrupting their commentary on political injustices to inform them that my dogs were bumblebees for halloween.

i can't help it - they're so gosh darn cute.

oh, which reminds me, sorry for interrupting...but just the other day buster and bella did the cutest thing ever. don't worry, i have pictures...

i could kick myself for not jotting down the intermittent thoughts and ideas that, much like a stray breeze or meandering spider of the night, have entered one of my ears and passed through the other without leaving remnants or at the very least a fecal trail.

dammit.

one thing i can tell you for sure: this blog is back in action.

privacy settings: off.

i think i just saved my own life, possibly countless others.

by being a dick.

you heard me right.

so, it's noon-ish. i'm eating lunch. my patio doors are open.

(my patio faces the entrance to the building i live in.)

i'm sitting, eating, enjoying...then i hear someone say "hey!"

and not a nice hey. a rude hey. i liken it to a crass NY'er yelling at a taxi that braked late into the crosswalk. "hey! i'm walkin here!"

anyway, this hey immediately grates on my typically infallible nerves.

so i turn around and some older guy is peering into my patio window.

sick.

my new guard dog bella goes to the patio door and gives him a soft woof.

"woah there, fella." was his response.

admittedly, i'm somewhat charmed by his old-timey expression.

so, giving him the benefit of doubt, i walked over to the patio door and performed an up-and-down assessment of the old timey charmer. that would be his name, i decided.

eep, too soon - i'm no longer charmed.

he look-a-like-a-creep.

slightly annoyed with his creepiness and already knowing he's going to waste my time, i slowly raise my eyebrows as to signal to him to warrant his hey.

**by the way, from the mere 2 seconds i looked at him, i automatically assume him a serial killer. the old-timey charmer is now his serial killer name. here is my best recollection of his appearance:



PS the man in that picture is a serial killer. coincidence?

-in his hands he had what looked to be a dvr device wrapped in a plastic bag.
-he was wearing a neon yellow vest - much like a road construction worker.
-he was also wearing beige dockers with a matching button-up.
-he had a nightstick attached to his belt.

=???

i didn't like what was before me.

he began to ramble about being a technician that is installing something in the "insert random neighbor's last name here" and that he got locked out. he appeared frustrated and in a hurry.

i continued to look at him, mostly in fear and significant doubt, then quickly assessed my options. i could:

1) buzz him into the building and let whatever happens, happen. my deadbolt was bolted after all.

2) continue to ask him questions like a detective would, however it was raining and the raindrops kept hitting the patio floor then splashing onto the inside floor as well as my feet. i didn't like that.

3) say no and walk away.

i chose option 3.

he immediately became hostile. "whaddaya mean you're not going to let me in!?"

i walked back over.

sir it's against association policy to let people in this building unless they are my personal guests or city authorities. i don't know you. i'm not letting you inside.

"gimme a break kid, i just told you what i was here for!"

i'm not a kid, although i do appear youthful. still...the kid thing was the final nail in his coffin.

sorry, sir, no can do.

*shuts patio door

i like to think i did this building a favor. you all have your heads! as far as i'm concerned - he was going to cut them off and dislplay them in some secret cave full of...heads.

i'm a hero.

and you're welcome.

and i'm not a kid.

damn those music companies for ripping music off youtube! yes i know there's legalities and monies involved but GD how else are peeps going to hear the music??

plus it makes my blog look like a graveyard.

herrumph.

fear not, here's a good cover. good job kelsey94231. i especially love the cat in the background which says a lot because i typically dislike cats.

both your cover and your kitty are cool with me.



love love love sia. not mad at david guetta.

therefore this is kind of sweet.

does the fact that i'm constantly cleaning my house mean that

i'm a dirty person?

or

that i'm a clean person?

i seriously am cleaning it...day in, day out.

and not in a mark summers way where i'm straigtening the fringe on area rugs, but rather vacumming dog hair, doing laundry, scrubbing the tub, sweeping leaves on the patio, unloading/reloading the dishwasher, and my stainless steel refridgerator is ALWAYS lookin a mess with streaks.

is this what adult life is all about?

now i know why my mother dreads company.

god save the queen.

and by queen i mean i, the king of this castle.

love the simplicity of this.

there is a slim-to-none chance that michele bachmann will become our president in the year 2012...or any year thereafter for that matter.

BUT, since this sharp-tongued bigot has walked into the electoral lion's den as a candidate and potential leader of our nation, i see no problem in taking 5 seconds to send her a simple message concerning the absurdity in her candidacy.

a message that would put anyone in their place.

"One Million Strong Against Michele Bachmann"

it just makes sense.

let's make it 10 million.

see you on the book!

summer in the chi.

buster in the chi.

lovin that chi.

calvin harris is having a great year in music.

feel so close.

*warning* watching the vid may cause you to have a stroke. i feel funny. just fyi - minimize this screen or read my other blog posts while listening to this fun remix of an already great song.

this is beautiful and well said.

no one should ever make anyone feel "less than."

why would you?

how could you?

if you've ever belittled or berated someone, please just stop.

this world needs less negativity - let it start with you.

and

this world will get better. but only if you're proactive.

maybe it's the fact that i'm soon turning 30

but lately i've been feeling entirely inadequate.

love. love. love.

i decided today that i'm going to make a list of things i want to do before i'm 30.

and do them.

that means i have less than a year to rock my world.

the first thing i want to do is get the nerve to cancel my cable - it's pointless.

1) i barely watch cable tv. everything i do watch is on a free network.
2) similar to point 1, cable shows suck and i have no interest. i had a limited interest in the real housewives but i'm burned out on that. it's all sooo painfully mind-numbing and unoriginal.
3) i love books and support them. i do not support kindles or any other electronic book things. they're gross, in my opinion. geez.

at the same time, i'm going to stop buying random things for my house and, instead, start investing in books. SO, by the time i'm 30, i want to have a library in my house of great books i've read and have yet to read.

i also want to go into this creepy ass bookstore and buy a bunch of books on the cheap, read them, and see if they merited said cheapness.

a book doesn't have to be a NYT bestseller on a shiny table inside of borders in order to be deemed a quality read.

but...back to the whole cable cancelling idear...that will be the major challenge.

wish me luck.

that noise i'm obsessed with is back again.

in a slightly different way.

thanks to sirius xm channel BPM, this little gem of a song comes on my computer and starts a living room trance party:



that noise...so weird, but I LOVE it. this one is less weedwhackerish and more like being on the phone and pressing buttons / talking to a monster on the other end.

still such unique noises!

it's the sound of 2011!

so if we're friends on facebook or perhaps you follow me on twitter you may have read that, yesterday evening, an incident occured in my home involving some sort of alien/frog species that has yet to be identified.

there seems to be a lot of confusion as to what happened, so let me break it down for you:

i have a patio outside of my condo that houses several of my dear, lovely plants - i have sweet potato vines galore, my trusty and ginormous aloe vera plant named anderson cooper, a plant that used to sprout yellow flowers until they all dried up and fell off thus now resembling an herb of some sort, a plant that i'm not sure of its species, regardless i refer to as elephant man, a salvia plant rightfully named miley, and a mixed bag of nuts planter that contains god knows what but is hearty and alive, so i keep it around.

wow that was a lot.

at any rate, for the past month its been as hot as all get-up in chicago, so watering is an every-other-day necessity for my green babies. i keep a watering can outside under my grill, so i brought it in the house to fill up with water via the kitchen sink. so i stick the watering can under the faucet and wait for the nearly 4 minutes it takes to fill that bad boy up with wawa.

so, i'm standing there, watching the water pour into the can, thinking to myself about several ants i noticed to be feasting on my sweet potato vine. i'm writing myself a mental note to later google how to rid my poor plant of these pests when, all of a sudden, this thing emerges from my watering can.

*note, it did not emerge from my sink faucet. it emerged from the hole on top of the watering can that's used for filling it up.*

it all happened so fast i can barely put into words the thoughts and reactions that occurred at this time. all i remember is this:

alien life form.

it's an alien.

there's an alien.

omg. alien.

i sincerely thought that what was happening was alien-related. from the way the alien frog did a spiderman-like crawl from the small opening to the top of the can, it practically defied physics...and gravity for that matter...it left me dumbfounded and in shock. i had no idea what was happening! it came out of nowhere!

then my eyes, as big as saucers, locked on it. and it was hideous.

my first instinct was to bellar out a blood-curdling scream. check.
second, my body froze in fear. i liken it to when your body prepares for sudden impact or death or whatever...my body just froze in fear. i felt like a statue. my body had braced for the worst. it's as if i somehow knew that this alien was about to attack.

and it did just that.

the alien frog was sitting on top of my watering can for a mere second then leaped directly toward me. mind you, i can barely move or even blink but recognizing this alien frog meant business i violently jerked backwards and, again, screamed. in the midst of screaming, i lost track of the alien frog and had no idea where it was or what it was doing - did it somehow attach itself to me, was it climbing up me, was it even on me - i have no idea. so i immediately jerked backwards again, hitting the refridgerator, all the while thrashing and short-kicking around as if the two of us were in a huge ass brawl or, perhaps, auditioning to be a new york rockette.

while thrashing and kicking, i simultaneously ran down my hallway. i needed to remove myself from the immediate situation. i then got my bearings, checked my body for alien life, and took a breath since i'm pretty sure i hadn't breathed since laying eyes on the alien frog. i grabbed my camera - i'd need proof for later.

the alien frog was nowhere in sight so i cautiously and begrudgingly crept back into the kitchen to assess the unfolding situation.

and there it was...defying physics once again by clinging vertically onto the side of my stainless steel trash can.

*note* i grew up in the rolling cornfields of illinois. i am, true-and-true, a country boy. for god's sake a cat gave birth to a litter of kittens in my bed...while i was sleeping in it. point being, i have seen frogs before, i've held frogs before, i know what frogs look like and what they're capable of. never in my 29 years have i ever seen this kind of "frog" especially one that can stick to the side of something. frogs jump around but they do not scale trash cans, as far as i'm concerned.*

back to the story - i screamed again, a brief, emphatic scream, as just the mere sight of the thing startled me. it was lime green, it had three, pod-ish toes on each leg, it had red eyes.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?!?!?!?!

i took a picture. exhibit a if no one believed me.

one thing was clear - i assumed it poisonous and unpredictable. also, i need it out of my house before it attacked me or, even worse, my sweet buster bust. bright idea out of nowhere - i crept to the cupboard and took out my prized, red colander.

*i treasure this colander because 1) my mom gave it to me as a gift 2) it was red - fun, and 3) it was sturdy. i like sturdy things.

at any rate, i needed it to trap the lil sucker in order to both increase security and allow time to plot my next, strategic move.

all the while, the alien frog plotted his own move - by the time i had the colander in hand and had crept to the trash can...it was gone.

my heart stopped.

thank god it hadn't gotten too far. it had scaled the trash can all the way to the lid, then suctioned itself onto the side of my cabinet. i slowly, then quickly placed the oversized colander over the alien frog.

he didn't like that.

he jumped and thrashed. i semi-dry-heaved every time i felt his body slam against the colander. in a moment of panic, i swear i felt one of the frog's pod-like toes touch my skin through the holes of the colander causing me to nearly drop everything and abandon ship.

however, the scales of rationality quickly evened, forcing me to persist and not let go of the colander since, obviously, dropping it would free the alien frog once again. i then carefully slid the colander down the side of the cabinet and, in one swift movement, collapsed the colander tightly to the ground.

at this point i did not care if one of the frog's legs or hell, if his entire body was pinned during the collapse. sorry peta, at this point i was working off adrenaline, immense fear, and the need to survive.

after a quick visual inspection, i affirmed that he was safely and completely intact under the colander. i reached for a nearby book to set on top of the colander to negate any escape strategies the alien frog may have been considering. i of course wasn't taking any chances - i wasn't about to under-estimate his strength.

expecting the unexpected i frantically paced about the room. first, i needed to wash my hands, they were laced with poison, after all. while doing so, i kept hearing thumps coming from underneath the colander - no doubt about it, he was pissed. i needed to move quickly, so i went to the cabinet again and pulled out a small piece of tupperware. annoyed, i fumbled through the stockpile of lids and found a match.

*note to self - get lid/tupperware problem equalized and under control.*

i weighed the risk in attempting to unsecurify my secure area by, even for a second, removing the colander. i had to do it. i had to take the colander off and put the tupperware on top of him - my end thought being i needed this frog to be in the most supermax prison cell possible to which i could then securely remove him from my house.

it had to be done.

slowly and nervously, i took the book off the colander with one hand while holding it down with the other. i grabbed the tupperware and took a deep, possibly final breath.

in a swift and seamless magician-like motion, i removed the colander, located the alien frog, then slammed the tupperware over him. again, i did not factor in speed, accuracy, or pressure while placing the tupperware. fast and dirty, i thought to myself.

if something sick were to have happened, well, i'd have to endure it and proceed.

there are few options when dealing with an alien frog, i'd come to learn.

luckily, this operation went off without a hitch. the frog didn't move and was safely under the tupperware. i then slowly slid the lid underneath him. it was almost as if he was going along with this because he jumped and positioned himself exactly as i needed him to in order to not smush or scrape him with the lid. i then pressed the tupperware down onto the lid - the son of a bitch was contained.

without question - contained. all was safe.

the frog was then, almost immediately, taken to lake michigan and set free near a tree by the lakefront. i didn't know if it was a land-dwelling or water-dwelling alien frog...so i gave him both options. it was his move.

and i felt like the bigger person.

current day, i still visualize the alien frog everywhere. under everything. ready to pop out of every crevice. i can still see its red eyes and pod toes.

i am in pain, too. as i had mentioned earlier, my body froze in fear and braced for the worst. when i jerked backwards and thrashed about, i hurt my neck and back...there is an uncomfortable pinched nerve that bothers me to this very moment.

i don't care. the alien frog is gone and i better never see him again.

some people want to say that it was an innocent, harmless ATF (american tree frog?).

i beg to differ.

regardless, i battled. i conquered. and i live to tell this tale.

amen.

if i hear one more word concerning the debt ceiling...i may jump off a building.

truth tho - it will, max, be a one story building because i greatly treasure my life and everything in it.

the demonstration would be for example purposes only.

regardless, everything will be OK. stop worrying.

if i've said it once, i've said it a hundred times - the only reason this is even an issue with the american people is because of the media. we love a deadline of doom and they know it. the last deadline headline i read was "if the government doesn't vote on a debt deal by tuesday, soldiers won't get paid!"

ahhhh! no. stop. of course they will get paid.

the media needs, no, no...requires...this kind of exploitative verbiage in order to support an endless array of liberal/conservative cable talk show chatterbugs - shows and chatterbugs which have no bearing on the politicians themselves. like they care. politicians just use them from time to time to get free press and marketing. it's nothing more than that. honestly, politicians do not care what the american people think of them. they never have, ever. how do you think this whole mess started? a typo? no, it's a lineage of corruption starting back way before you were born.

i mean, if you've read or watched any kind of media press...you've heard the politicians all say the same thing "the american people deserve this issue to be handled." "the american people want bi-partisan decisions." "the american people this." "the american people that."

obviously, if the politicians really knew or respected what "the american people" thought or cared about, 1) they would double up their bodyguard count and 2) america would be a much better place. a smarter place. an organized place. instead, as if this is news, politicians cater to their most important, influential, and deep-pocketed constituents that are the puppeteers to their decision-making.

it's not news.

it's how our government works. always has.

stop letting the sensationalism lead you into hysteria. you can't do anything about it. no one you will ever vote for will be any different from the rest.

don't get me wrong - good things will happen within our government and to its people. but also expect a lot of bullshit. the bullshit will never go away.

so, stop getting mad and more importantly stop watching tv. just go on with your normal life and be a smart, savvy citizen. live your life the best way you can and do not depend on the government to get you through it.

in this life, you can only depend on yourself to make the right decision.

so go do just that.

"Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blind side you at 4 PM on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.

Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen."

love, love this song.

this picture goes out to those of you who feel the pressures of being something you may not be right now.

or ever.

thinner.muscley.taller.a smaller nose.straighter teeth.bigger body parts.a more confident disposition.self-satisfied.

whatever it may be.

there's a reason we are drawn to one another...and while looks may mean something to someone, they will never mean everything to someone.

anyone who has dated a hottie with no sense of humor is fully aware of what i'm saying.

find happiness and sexiness in the way you are, and do what feels right to you.

and remember:

"do not read beauty magazines they will only make you feel ugly."

the same goes for our modern world. do not look at it as your truth.

it's no secret that i absolutely love ke$ha. i guess if you didn't know that then you don't know me.

OK, just kidding, i'm not that simple.

at any rate, there's this remix of Ke$ha's song "Blow" that i'm absolutely intrigued by.

there's this sound that i've been hearing a lot lately that i think is so, so cool.

to me, it sounds like someone is revving a weedwhacker.

and i love it.

i want more of it.

i'm not some gross, techno-loving club freak by any means, but that sound about to BLOW.



**Update:

Here's another one...although this sounds like a mini-weedwhacker reallllly going to town on some alfalfa.

amy winehouse, amy winehouse.

(what to say about amy winehouse without offending her "fans." hmm...)

tough one.

amy winehouse was a celebrated artist. many people adored her. i personally wasn't much of a fan. for me, it was always hard to watch. hard to listen to.

with the news of her passing on every headline and at the fingertips of all social medialites, i've read numerous comments from people mourning her death. everyone's so sad. so upset. supposedly playing her songs on repeat all day in her honor. how sweet.

except...

to me, personally, it's disturbing. not the fact that amy died, but it's disturbing that, all of a sudden, we now care that she was an addict. no one cared before.
it's an ironic yet appalling twist on how we view sloppy drunks and crack addicts in the entertainment industry.

for non-spotlighted addicts - we look down upon them. they have a problem and it's not OK.

for spotlighted addicts - we give them a round of applause and want front row seats to their spectacle.

it's cool, it's funny, it's art...

until they die. then it's a shame.

back when amy was "big," (and i use that term in a dual sense considering how small and seemingly malnourished she often appeared) people flocked to her shows in astonishment of the fact that a drunk, coked out singer could put on such an entertaining show. what with the hair, the make-up, the back-up band and singers...her good voice. but also in that entertainment package came her drunkenness, her self-admitted drug use before performances, her wobbly knees and lack of balance. to me, it was a cross breed of a dog and pony show mixed with a shit show.

to most people it was "wow, it's so cool that someone can be so deplete of professionalism and integrity but their vocal chords can hit a few notes within an undeniably catchy melody."

well let's gobble up her albums and put her on TV!

sure, it was fun. we ate it up. but it was all at her expense.

we love to make fun of people with serious, serious addictions. *when they're alive.* but when their addictions catch up to them. when their addictions take full control. when their addictions seize their very last breath. when their addictions have taken their life. then, and only then, do we stop laughing.

then we're sad.

??

how sick.

now, and only now, it's no longer funny that amy winehouse had a serious lineup of addictions...addictions that she made no secret to her fans or to the general public. addictions that she displayed in daylight. on tv. in the magazines. everywhere.

it wasn't in some dimly-lit bathroom with a few of her closest friends.

it was on stage. in front of you. cameras rolling.

knowingly or not knowingly to herself, she was a user.

a serious user.

and what did we do in response? as "fans" we watched her fall time and time again, in many ways. at appearances, award shows, concerts - we would first wait in anticipation to see if she would show up. if she did, we waited to see if she could remember the lyrics to her songs. we loved her non-composure. we applauded a shot on stage. we gave her a standing O for merely finishing. later we went to tmz and perezhilton to see pictures of her leaving and falling down in the streets.

boy was that fun. i'm going to be her for halloween! dress me up like a drunk cokehead with a beehive and smudged mascara!

oh, but now she died. she died from the very things that made her so popular. the very things that made her "unique." the very things that are not OK on any other platform except rock n' roll. it makes the music better if you're crazy and addicted to something dangerous.

??

emotions aside and in reality - she died from the very lifestyle we both championed and funded. and, as her fan, you have the gall to mourn?

you didn't know her. you didn't love her. you didn't help her.

don't mourn.

be ashamed.

in reality i've only been absent this blog for approximately two months.

not bad if i say so myself.

which i do.

bringing this blog back to its glory days.

stay tuned for a new look.

and a new blog.

...well it's still the old blog...just with newer-ish opinions.

it is time to let go of the vanity of youth.
the vanity of that which i feel i offer.
"you."

this world is much bigger than i.
and i've learned there's always someone

someone cooler.
someone more handsome.
someone more wealthy.

there will always be someone better.
but only because i've defined my best as something that anyone could achieve.

so i'm giving up the hope that i'm going to break the mold of this community.

because MY life is bigger than that.
bigger than the competition i've worked so hard to keep up with.

and for what?

it's time to start doing me.
and keeping those who actually matter, nearby.
to start a new journey.
a journey that means something.

because

this is it.

Mike Huckabee believes Portman is presenting a distorted image with her pregnancy "Most single moms are very poor, uneducated, can't get a job, and if it weren't for government assistance, their kids would be starving to death and never have health care. And that's the story that we're not seeing, and it's unfortunate that we glorify and glamorize the idea of children out of wedlock."

Mr. Huckabee (sexcist supremo) more often than not - the larger problem with single mothers are their deadbeat counterparts - the MIA DADS. But huckabee makes no mention of a father figure in the destruction of a child's welfare. Regardless, no piece of paper saying two poor, uneducated and unemployed but MARRIED parents automatically produce a better life for their kid(s).

If he runs for president do not vote for him, my god.

black peeps are mad that there weren't any black nominees at the oscars - just a bunch of white peeps.

hey black peeps - hush. just because there weren't any stellar black performances this year doesn't mean it was a racist snub. do you really think that oscar-deciding peeps are high nosin actors because of their skin color?

doubt it something serious. yall just sucked at acting this year.

it's OK.

no homo.

i've rewatched the sex and the city series a few times now, and something still troubles me.

i've heard so many women say "i love sex and the city because of the fashion."

um, what fashion?

there was no fashion. ever. on anyone.

specifically, almost every.single.outfit carrie wore was so far beyond style or fashion, it more or less dangled in absurdity and at its most basic was intentionally mismatched.

is that what fashion is?

and don't even get me started about her hats.

let's be honest: the relevance of sex and relationships held that show together.

i think i'm dying. well, i'm not dying, but at times it feels like it, or perhaps i'd rather be dead than to endure such excruciating pain.

what's wrong, you ask?

i have KIDNEY STONES.

and they are a force to reckon with.

ow, it burns.