Kings & Angels

***EDIT: There was an order to these photos, telling the story of my trip to LA - but they got out of order when I posted them, and also now they look like crap. And some of them are sideways. I don't know how/care to fix them. Enjoy!

I Didn't Win

So, McSweeney's ran the winners of their column contest, and I was not one of them.

I probably wasn't twee or pithy enough for them. But I'm just the right amount of twee and pithy for you guys. Awwww. I should have written a column called "Jokes my ironically named pet bird told me about 1980s heads of state" they'd eat that shit right up. So, anyway, here's my entry for their contest. Enjoy how much better it is than the crap they are sure to run from their "winners". You're the real winners today, guys. Congratulations.

Cooking with Tony is a column that is really a front to tell stories of mine and bitch about things I want to bitch about, loosely related to food or cooking. I have the palette of a 12 year-old, and the budget and motivation of a college sophomore. The format will be adhered to as strictly as the content won’t be.

So here it is, not my funniest story, but the story that I thought best presented my proposed concept. Bon Appétit!

Cooking with Tony – Stromboli

I think we’ve all been there: it’s a balmy summer evening, I’m not wearing any pants, and it’s creeping closer to “Crap, it’s ten o’clock and I can’t eat this late or I’ll get heartburn and fat” time. I need to whip up a fun, easy menu that delivers bold flavor, charm and nutrition. Join me on a recent epicurean journey.

First off, dinner has a few requirements for me: it should be hot, and include more than one “dish”. And preferably salty. And crunchy. And not gross. I turn to my pantry (cabinet above my sink). How many Pop-Tarts are in a dinner? Three. Three Pop-Tarts are a dinner, with a side of tortilla chips (salty and crunchy!). But, the baffling two-tarts-to-a-pouch philosophy of the heatable breakfast market does me in. I can’t just leave one to go bad in its crinkley silver coffin, and I can’t eat four – eating four Pop-Tarts means you’ve failed at life.

The menu planning continues: No clean pots for pasta, and I had pizza rolls for lunch. Sometimes, if you remain uninspired, I’ve found it’s okay to look outside your own ingredients, especially when your ingredients are all microwavable, toasterable, or canned chili. So in this case, it was time to bite the bullet and set out. And by set out, I mean get dressed and walk two doors down to the pizza shop. A world of possibilities opens before me! A world which is entirely populated by pizza, cheesesteaks and stromboli. Cheesesteaks are always a bonus, because I can toss stray meat flakes to my cat, but I’m not in the mood. Pizza makes my beard smell greasy, and I’m headed to the bar later. So, it’s set, tonight’s menu: stromboli, with a side of French fries, paired with a 2011 Diet Pepsi.

Side note: I used to drink regular Pepsi, but at the staggering rate of my consumption, switching to diet was my only hope of avoiding mid-20s diabetes.

Side side note: In doing research for this recipe, I found out that the delicious stromboli is a regional dish, native to my north eastern part of America. A) You’re welcome for the culture, you rubes. B) That’s a shame, rest of the country. I feel bad for you. And C) You might not have stromboli, but I am assuming you have the internet since you’re reading this, so just Google it already.

Fine, it’s a lot like a calzone. You backwater hillbillies know what that is, right? Happy now?

Anyway.

Gathering ingredients for your menu can be a metaphor for life; you look outside yourself when you realize everything in your cabinet (pathetic life) is boring, spoiled or stale. Or you really need to stop talking to your ex-girlfriend because she’s really just a total bummer and you guys are never getting back together or even going on another date that was as good as that time you guys got ice cream and laughed so much when you had a sprinkle stuck in your beard. So don’t eat the spoiled cheese (ex-girlfriend). Go and get a stromboli (girl who goes to the bar you go to who wears too much eye make-up and definitely won’t nag you about things like how salt and pepper shakers and ketchup shouldn’t be “permanent fixtures” of your coffee table, or “paying the electric bill” or “looking at other girls’ boobs” or “Tony could you take the goddamn Guitar Hero guitar off the couch so I have a place to sit”).

So, I go out, like my hunter-gatherer ancestors: I put on pants and shoes and walk to the shop two doors down from my apartment. I always hope to order from the nice old Greek lady, to avoid interacting with the marble-mouthed 40-something who also works there. In this particular instance, I wasn’t so lucky. Before getting a chance to place my order, he somehow forces the following from his perpetually open mouth: “Hey Jeff! Hahaheeehaaaeeehh?” No, sorry, Jeff isn’t my name, but nice try at randomly guessing after interacting with me for nearly two years! I order. It’s often said that waiting is the hardest part of cooking, and they are right. I sit on my stoop and smoke two cigarettes. Like all things in life though, the wait is often the most enlightening part. I learn that a one-way sign is no deterrent as two separate cars go the wrong way on my street. I learn that people who drive hybrids can rarely be bothered with “parking between the lines” or “not being an asshole.”

Ah! The true reward of cooking is finally here: the meal is ready! I pick it up and head back to my apartment. My cat is disappointed as she doesn’t see a cheesesteak emerge from the greasy bag. I am encouraged that I made the right choice, because that was super easy. If I had to do it again, I would have said “no onions” twice, because one time they put onions in my stromboli and cooked onions are creepy and slimy and gross. Overall, this was a very successful menu: the pairings interacted like world-class dance partners and the Italo-American flair lit up the room with an ebullient “Mama-Mia!” charm. Bon Appétit!

Stromboli

Recipe (includes French fries and Diet Pepsi side dishes):

13 Dollars

1 pair shoes

1 pair pants

Ketchup (to taste)

Clean plate

Pizza place (Greek)

Preparation Time: “10 minuhs” (16 minutes)

Difficulty: No.

Pros: A stranger made my dinner. Delicious. Kitchen isn’t hot from stove. No microwave brain cancer. Cheese.

Cons: A stranger touched my dinner. Putting on pants and shoes. Washing stromboli plate. Interacting with the guy who rides a bike to work and drinks shots of Goldschläger on a begged-for credit line at the local bar. Eating too much and getting a stomach ache.

Conclusion: A really great recipe overall: simple, delicious, multicultural. The real question is: would I make stromboli again? Yes. Especially if it is really hot out or I am totally out of other food. Probably not if it was raining, though. Also, don’t order the large, that thing is like four goddamn pounds.

****

When I sent this idea to some friends of mine, they all said pretty much the same thing: “You’re an idiot.” When pressed further, they said “It’s a pretty good column, but it seems pretty limited.” I am paraphrasing, because they didn’t all say exactly the same thing and because I don’t pay attention to them very well. However, as a rebuttal, here is a list of (more than the requested three) future columns:

· How Many Grapes Can Fit in Your Mouth? (A tale of youth, machismo and victory)

· The Time My Mom Ruined My Eleventh Birthday with Carrot Cake (A treatise on shit that shouldn’t be desserts, mostly)

· The Time My Friends Made Me Eat Sushi at that Fancy Restaurant (Squishy disks of fish and pretension)

· No Waffles a la Friend’s Drunk Dad at an Engagement Party (He promised me waffles and asked me to dance)

· Ham and Cheese and Tostitos (Pro: actual recipe, Con: not really)

· Getting a Sandwich Named after You (Bucket List) (The Tony Burger)

· I Love Steak More Than Any Girl I’ve Ever Met (I once said “If I ever meet a girl I love as much as the Phillies I will marry her immediately. I guess that isn’t related to steak, but you get the idea. The idea is girls are not as good as other really good stuff)

· Mozzarella Sticks: Ambrosia? (self-explanatory)

· My Favorite Vegan Meal is Telling Everyone I’m Vegan (90% of vegans are truly insufferable, also chubby because all they eat is bread and Twizzlers also quinoa tastes like un-brewed tea)

· One Time at a Bar a Girl Sent Me a Pizza Instead of a Drink (Valentine’s Day theme column?????)

**************

There you have it. I thought it was pretty good. Oh well.

Rodeo

That about sums up where I am right now, mentally, spiritually and pizzally.

I'm super old update:

I graduated from high school ten years ago this week. Ten years is a really, really long time. If I could time machine back to that day and see myself, I would say:

Keep up the good work?

I don't know. I should probably have something profound here.
-How about, You aren't going to marry any of 'em, so dump 'em when you think of it. It's easier that way and then your R2D2 poster won't get destroyed and you won't have to punch that guy with the earrings and bad tattoos.
-Don't park your car in front of your apartment on Cricket Ave., that car was bitching and some asshole is going to steal it.
-You are totally right, naps are always a waste of time. I regret nothing but the naps.
-You still don't like Chinese food.
-Would it kill you to exercise once in a while you lazy ass?
-All those Phillies games you turn down tickets to turn out awesome. I'm not going to spoil the surprise, but it rhymes with ho nitter.
-They see you rollin, they hatin
-He makes it, she doesn't, be strong for your mom.
-Avail doesn't come back for like seven years, don't miss that show.
-Your beard is awesome. You single handedly bring beards back.
-Forgive. Always.
-Don't sweat the technique.
-Be excellent to each other.

I think that about sums it up. You're doing a good job kid, it gets better.

I also am old because:

-I got my new license yesterday. My picture looks exactly the same. This one expires in 2015, but I'll probably have to renew for my hover car license before then.
-One of my best friends turns 30 today. Ew.

X Gonna Give it to Ya

I wish this post were about DMX, as I relate pretty much everything to him lately.

But it's not. I saw X-Men: First Class last night. And typing that out for the first time, I realize that's kind of a stupid name. First Class. Classy X-Men. Whatever, it was pretty good.

Except January Jones, she is terrible and I hate her. Also Mystique was slutty, petulant and annoying, but I suppose that is probably appropriate.

I consider myself pretty hip and "with it" and blah blah WHAT THE FUCK, INTERNET? You are making less and less sense and not even in a good, Nyan Cat way.

What the HELL is with these stupid "that awkward moment..." things?

HAHAH I saw movies! Haha I get it! Funny movie! *fatkidfartnoiseface*

The internet, that's not awkward, nor is it a moment, and it's not funny or anything else good. Most of these "awkward moment" things aren't even complete sentences or thoughts. While doing my typical deep, probing and thorough research for this post, I googled "that awkward moment" - that was a terrible mistake. That google hole plunged me into a deep despair and I found myself wishing for the world to end and to never have existed in the first place. Thanks. Most of these "awkward moments" are things like "that awkward moment when you eat a pudding" or "that awkward moment when your foot is asleep" WHAT? Why would anyone talk about that? I DON'T UNDERSTAND. Or they are fake, like those horrible fake TFLN. Why would you make up a TFLN? You are the worst human. "That awkward moment when you are so cool and you quote a movie and then you are handsome!" I made that one up.

Oh the internet, I guess I shouldn't expect so much from a thing run by people who are either mentally or actually thirteen.

Let's go back, internet, you and me babe, let's go back to porkchop sandwiches and unforgivable. C'mon, for old time's sake. Just a little. Yeah. C'mon c'mon. Yeah.

I was going to embed the video for Ghost Town DJ's My Boo here, but my computer is disagreeing with YouTube right now. So, play that song, imaging me captioning it with "this is a pretty good summer jam" and be on your way.

Road-eo

That cover is so awesome. It's about time for another Summertime Funmertime playlist. Imma do that.



Hey! Happy Memorial Day. What'd you do? Hamburgers? I hope it was hamburgers. I had a ton of fireworks to shoot off and then I didn't even get to. My weekend was monopolized by a trip to our nation's capital.

One of my best friends from high school was getting married in DC. I headed down Saturday for the brotrothal. Remember? You were helping me pick an outfit. I couldn't decide and ended up taking three outfits with me. BE PREPARED.

The trip down was surprisingly easy after I had prepared myself for the nightmare that is X95 traffic I had heard so much about. A quick pit stop for some rollerblade-chat-inspired Diet Mountain Dew was the only real speedbump.

I think my favorite thing I saw as we pulled into DC was the "WE OPEN LATE" Wendy's sign I saw. You know, someone who actually knows how to read correctly might interpret that negatively. A block from there was a crooked, bent, stained sign which read "US CAPITOL ---->" which I also thought was hilarious. Thattaway. Ha.

Washington DC is bizarre. It's clean, no one there could beat me up, and the streets are wildly confusing and round. It's everything Philadelphia isn't. I give it a B-.

The actual wedding was a wedding. There was church (snore) cake (yum) and drunkenness (meh). White people remain terrible dancers. Especially the ones who are either acutely aware, or completely oblivious, to that fact. Overall it was a good wedding. I was rarely bored, the people who were there are some of my favorite people in the entire world, and I think the wedding was a good idea. Nothing like thinking a marriage will end in bitter divorce/murder suicide to ruin a wedding.

In my mind I thought a post wedding drive home was a much more reasonable plan than a hotel room. Hey, I won't be drunk, why not? Why not?! Because it will be three in the morning and you will have a terrifying and harrowing sleephorror drive home. You will have to hang your head out the window like a goddamned golden retriever just to stay awake through Maryland. Yeah, don't do that next time.

Anyway, keep it real homies. Hollerback for a dope playlist. Hope you enjoyed the travelblogue.

The Cricket

I love Wilson Valdez. I call him the Cricket. Because he is cricket-like.

I have to go to a wedding this weekend for one of my best friends from high school. It's a little weird that a lot of my friends are family-ing up, and in light of all of this love, and life and reflection I am left with a truly important question.

What should I wear?

I turn to the most obvious fashion icon for my personal needs, Rick Ross.

Boss.

And while this black on black on black (on black) is working for him, I fear it might be a little played. Ideas? I probably have better fashion sense than you, but who knows, maybe you will accidentally stumble upon something that is brilliant for reasons that are, frankly, beyond your comprehension.

Oh and here's my impression of life:






Did I tell you guys I have a softball team? No? Oh that's because we didn't win until our fourth game. BUT NOW WE DID so hey - I am on a softball team. I am pretty good.

PEOPLE I AM BRINGING THIS BLOG SHIT BACK. Let's do this.

BOOM!

I'm back from my sabbatical. It was radical.

Since I've been gone, I've been 28, hungry, funny and Philliesed.

But, hey, what's up?

I got my groove back. And through careful introspection, deductive reasoning and a 3 AM watching of the terrible movie, Legion, I now know the difference between Tyrese and Tyson Beckford. Just don't ask me to tell you, because a) that's impossible and b) you must come upon this knowledge yourself. Tabula Rasa or some shit.

Also I saw Thor. It was cool until he turned into a total pussy at the end and was smooching up on Natalie Portman. Like the Thunder God has time for that bullshit. AS IF.

So, since I'm back, feel free to write to me for (good) advice (from a bad person), suggest playlists, purple stuff, or whatever.

In other news:
-My cat just walked into the room, saw the dream catcher (sometimes my dreams need to be caught), which has been there for four months and made a noise I never heard her make before. Like a mix of a growl, a purr, and some dumb bird noise. Cats are weird, but maybe she saw a ghost because I heard cats can do that. Probably not mine though, she gets her head stuck in bags ALL THE TIME. /endcatnews
-I didn't get raptured
-Someone just drove by the HQ blasting a Crystal Waters-esque 90s techno lite dance club hit jam. BLASTING. At 9:15 AM. I almost ran downstairs just to see what kind of human would be into that sort of thing. Guesses?

Check me out here, where I bring the hot fire on a sometimes-more-than-once-a-day basis. Really worth it. It's a twitter link. To my twitter.

Get some.

Weekend Rodeo Roundup

Birthday Edition!


Wildly delicious Root Beer cupcakes provided by Ashley, MVP of Birthday Boom.

Friday was my 28th birthday. We partied. I had a blast, and was so glad so many people could make it out and have a good time in honor, celebration and devotion to me. Thanks homeys.

I was glad people could get so drunk just because it was my birthday. Too bad no one puked/fought/cried.

Got some excellent presents:

This incredible Camel ad featuring baseball players talking about how MILD camels SMOKE. It's awesome

A completely bizarre/awesome version of Notes from Underground
that included The Gambler in the back of the book upside down. It's hard to explain. But awesome.

Star Wars Mad Libs.

A new baseball glove.

AND MANY MORE!

All in all, it was a good birthday. Thank you to those who made it that way.

Here is a playlist (!) that is a representative sample of the songs I chose with the twenty dollar bill I put in the jukebox that night. ENJOY THE PLAYLIST!

HB

Ch Ch Ch Ch Changes

I am posting this from my new laptop.

My old one just turned off the other day and wouldn't come back on for more than a few seconds.

Apparently the mobo was donezo.

So, 800 bucks later, I'm back in business. My blog looks like shit on this new computer, guess I'm due for a redesign.

No new car for me yet, this kinda ate into my car budget. Crap.

Other than that, winding down another year on Earth.

I forgot how much work goes into setting up a new computer. Also forgotten: my router password. Oops!

There was something else I wanted to blog about... OH WELL. I forgot.

Saint Craptrick's Day

Wow. Last night got a little weird.

It was pretty tame at the bar, I was kind of expecting things to be a little more...festive.

It was the two year anniversary of me realizing one of my life-long dreams of getting to throw a scumbag through a window. Remembered fondly.

While it was less than ideal, it sure did bring some crazy weirdo lames out of the woodwork.

Let me give you the dossier on my (least) favorite:
Dude
Black weird curly hair
One large black earring
Johnny Cash shirt
Confusing jeans
Timberlands
Very ugly and oddly placed forearm tattoo
Overheard quotes:

"Man, chicks are SO DECEIVING!"
"Yeah man, that's right, FUCK college. Makes you stupid. Schools make you IGNORANT!"
"Yeah man, I have like booze back at the place, any thing you bring would be chaaaaasers. Rock and roll, man. Rock and roll"

So that was my night.

Also BASKETBALL, SPRING TIME, birthday planning (not actually happening), car shopping (not so much either)

Got my first birthday gift yesterday (from myself) - a new baseball glove! I was way too excited about this. It's rubber banded right now. I can smell it.

I have included a picture of Evel Knievel because he is my hero and I want an Evel tattoo.

Holler.

Down Time

Everyday miracles, angels in America, Jewish holidays; listen up:

I have yet to replace a single light bulb in my apartment in the 20 months I've lived here. SO REAL. Magical.

Also, SHAMROCK SHAKES.

Yesterday, I got money deposited into my account from my insurance company. A mere 43 days after my car was totaled. Phew, life in the digital age moves at a break neck pace.

I still have no clue what car I want. Nor have I figured out if I am going to go cheap and buy a car with the money I got flat out, or bite the bullet and use it as a down payment and slog through another 48 months of monthly payments. Both ideas kinda blow if you ask me. HOW ABOUT YOU JUST GIVE ME A CAR. Then I can use the money for tattoos and hats and shoes and credit card bills. HOORAY. And shamrock shakes.

My birthday is 10 days away and I have no plans. Get the surprise party plans on point, yo.

What should I ask for for my birthday? Houseboat? Good idea.

Blazer

Me neither, man. Me neither.

There's an ap for that.

It's March. March is the best month, check it:

March Madness
Spring Training
Shamrock Shakes
My birthday
Better weather
The Ides of March?

Ok I was stretching with that last one a bit. But fuck you March is awesome.

Car update: no car yet. No insurance money yet, actually. Those a-holes are dragging their feet with my PAPER CHASE. I guess it isn't really a paper chase. But I want my money so I can buy a ridiculous truck.


In other news; DMX, Mopo, root beer, Phillies, sneakers, beard, high fives, pencils, laundry, books.

Goodnight, Dune

THIS THIS THIS YES YES YES

Curls

So this whole finding a car thing is kind of like finding a girlfriend.

It's going to cost me a ton of money and frustration. And really I just need one that is going to look so cool it gets me girls.

Last night I forgot to take out the trash and change the cat's litter. This caused me to have a "nightmare" about finding another, unchanged, secondary cat box in my apartment. My brain is stupid when I'm not in charge of it.

Hey it's 60 degrees today! But also Seattle. Take the good with the bad.

I had to go to a notary yesterday, and it made me realize that notary might be the silliest, most archaic public service position in existence. It's like having a horse inspector around the corner.

OSCARS! I didn't see a single movie that was nominated for any of those awards. Not a single one. I honestly think the last movie I saw in the the theaters in the last 365 days was Paranormal Activity 2, and that was terrible (as I knew it would be).

Let's party?

Warlock

Woah, long time no see. Sorry about that, creeps.

Still car blah blah blahing. Insurance companies are devils, etc.

I think I might go check out a 1979 Warlock. Badass truck hey.



Besides that, my life is boring.

Lately, a few people have made the same accusation about me.

They say I'm a big fish in a small pond, and that's just how I like it. I can tell you all I want about how much I love the suburbs, and how the city isn't really for me, and how I've done that and I'm over it. But, maybe they are right. Maybe I do like being the coolest guy in town. Maybe I do like everyone knowing my name. Maybe I do want to be a big, handsome, funny fish in a small pond. This needs more thought.

Scratch that.

That super awesome truck I was looking at got sold out from under me.


Back to the drawing board.

Fuck the Po-lice

And by po-lice, I mean my insurance company.

Got their initial, low-ball offer today. I mean, it wasn't that low, but I think I can get more out of them.

Especially since their comps for a 2002 WRX with 90,000 miles were mostly Imprezas and Outbacks with 120,000+ miles on them.

Assholes.


In other news, my parents dogs are bad, demanding and adorable.

I bet my next girlfriend will be those three things too.

Camusentine

Valentine

So it's Valentine's Day.

I don't have a girlfriend, so it really isn't that big of a deal. I just know I can't hang out with any girls tonight, lest I give them the wrong idea. Ha.

Here's the most romantic song I could find.



I'm at my parents house watching their dogs this week. Please don't rob my apartment. But if you do, feed my cat while you are there.

I totally want to buy this truck:





And I think I might.

Car News (snooze)

My car is officially totaled.

RIP 2002 Subaru WRX Wagon. You've served me well. I'm glad I got some awesome donuts out of you in your last big snowfall.

It was a good car, fast and perky, up for any snowy problems. It saved me and my friends from an icy doom many times.

But, as I realized, I'm not exactly a Japanese station wagon kind of guy, no matter how cool said wagon is.

What should my next car be?

K-S my H

So I found this thing of York peppermint patties from Christmas. And it made me feel like this song. Presumably, strippers and blow make most people feel like this song.

I am sure there is a heart attack joke in here somewhere.

This is funny to me because someone thought you might want to follow along with the lyrics and made a Youtube video of that. Maybe they are picturing people using this to do some low budget, at-home Karaoke to this song. That makes me sad.

Sweet typeface bro.

One of these days I'm going to make an anonymous blog so I can blog about actual crazy shit and you can laugh at me and people I know in real life. As for now, I think that would be a terrible idea.

I think one of the greatest hurdles most novelists need to clear is the ability, shamelessness and willingness to sell out their closest friends and family. I strive for this. question mark??



No car updates. I see this shaking out one of two ways:

a) car is totaled. I am forced to haggle with insurance over price of car, takes a few weeks for a check to come.

b) car is not totaled. I must wait a few weeks for car to be fixed, pay a $500 deductible and my car will never be the same.

BOTH THESE OPTIONS SUCK.

No Cheerleaders at the Super Bowl (Superb Owl)

Yesterday was the first day in a while I didn't have an article due.

Which was nice, because of not having to do work, but pretty crappy in that I don't have an article up this week, and don't have a place for my stuff yet. Still looking.

Car update: no update.

But the rental place gave me a giant pickup truck. Which is kind of funny. It was that or a Hyundai Elantra. Easy choice.

So I am thinking my car is totaled. If that's the case, I need a new car.

What kind of car should I get? I should start a poll. Any ideas?

I Picked the Wrong Day to Quit Sniffing Glue

Post subtitled: I have always depended on the ineptitude of strangers.

Sooooo today I was taking a wee break from work to run some errands.

As I approached my car I thought "Hm, that's weird, I don't remember parking my car at a 45 degree angle, half on a snow bank"



and then it hit me: I didn't! Some stranger was kind enough to take their car and ram it into my car, achieving that awesome new parking spot.

That was so nice of someone. To be able to manage hitting my car so hard that it moved 6-8 feet. I am really impressed they were able to generate enough force about 25 feet from a stop sign, on a turn, in front of a school to smack my car this hard. Wow!

Thanks again!

It's worse than it looks. The other car apparently had to be towed.

Wintery Mix

Please stop Tweeting/Facebook Statusing about going to the gym. I get it, you go to the gym. This makes you a really great person. But, in a world where people talk about the mundane shit they do, this particular mundane shit gets way overused. I know you do it just to tell us that you go to the gym. Theoretically you do plenty of over things on a semi-regular basis that you don't mention, but you feel compelled to tell us all that you are very interested in fitness (not vanity/increasing your ability to get laid). Soooooo, stfu. Really.


In other news, it's February. AKA probably the worst month. Christmas is over, but it's not Spring yet. Snore.


I'm actually working on some new playlists. Remember those? Awwww.

I think I am finally getting over my cold, which means I'm getting over my two-weeks-of-feeling-perpetually-uncomfortable-and-grumpy.

Hey, remember Good Advice From a Bad Person? Let's do that. goodadvicefromabadperson@gmail.com is there for a reason, assholes.

I'm still looking for a place to ply my wares. Feel free to suggest something. I really don't think I'll be moving on to Phillyist's new venture, for obvious reasons. Those reasons being I don't like musical theater. And they don't want me to. Or like me. ha.

Boyz II Men

Here's my final Phillyist column.

Short and sweet. ish.

DMX

Snowpocalypse '11? Not quite, but that was some serious snow last night.

Wandered out into it to get some medicine. There was a foot of snow on the street. Way to go, jerks. I park for twenty minutes and I get a parking ticket, but you can't clean the streets? I SEE HOW IT IS.

I just finished off my farewell column for Phillyist, that should be up soon. I'll let you know.

Some tweets I tweeted today:

I got [crumbs] on my [shirt] and there's no remorse, I got [icing] on my [face] cause I [ate] a [cake], I'm a [messy eater] #DMXedited


It's the nonstop [meow, meow] of [playful kittens] #DMXedited


Running around here like some brand new [kitten] that's about the get [petted] #DMXedited



So, if you aren't yet, get at me on there. TWITTER!

GAFABP 2.0

Ok, so I am moving onward and upward with Good Advice From a Bad Person, including:

Goodadvicefromabadperson@gmail.com

and

@GAFABP on twitter!


Figured out how to forward my gmail, but does anyone know an easy way to manage two twitter accounts?

I'll tumble for ya

Ok I know. I am just bored tonight.

Sometimes I want to write about girls. But that's a HORRIBLE IDEA.

So instead, I bring you this thing I made, to explain my life in girl adventures.

Burn.

This is a little Tumbley of me, but it was too clever not to put up.

Canadiens, you blow. Meh, you too, Canadians.

Rodeo

I was sick all weekend.

I slept for 17 of the 24 hours between 2 am Saturday and 2 am Sunday. I never do that. It was bizarre.

Yesterday was the "Christmas" party at Cheers. I think I have a hangover despite not drinking. But I won a prize? So there's that.

Also: football, annoying whore cat, Target, watermelon juice, cough medicine brain freeze, not enough degrees, tapas, all my electronics turning on me, else.

Via Black and wtf.

Gimme books to read.

Someone suggested Martin Amis. I started reading Time's Arrow because it was the only book of his the book store had, but it is kind of annoying to read. I mean, I think that is kind of the point?

So, on to Phillyist:

Phillyist is shutting down. Meaning, my Good Advice From a Bad Person columns are now homeless, at least as far as a home beyond here.

If anyone knows of a spot for them to be, that'd be awesome. Especially if that spot wanted to pay me to write them. I need to get my shit together and try to find something. I should write to Philly Weekly and the City Paper.

The Phillyist editors are making a new site. But a) I don't think they like me very much anymore after I was a pain in the ass to them and b) I don't think my particular brand of wit fits with their "theater reviews!" theme. They left me out of the "here's our new idea" email until I specifically asked for it.

Onward and upward.

RIP

So this is happening.

Crap.

Phillyist will no longer be publishing new posts as of February 1st.

I blame everyone, but me.

To be honest, this is a huge bummer, and I am super grateful Phillyist hooked me up and gave me a spot to post my stuff.

I'll write more about this when I understand it a little better.

If all else fails I will just publish my GAFABPs here, as I did before. But I would really love to find another home for them.


Hmmm I wonder if Philebrity is 'hiring'.

A Day Late

Ooooops.

My Good Advice From a Bad Person is up today instead of yesterday.

So be it.

Vanity

So I just read Chuck Klosterman's Sex, Drugs & Cocoa Puffs. Another non-book book. But it was pretty interesting. I never caught this one the first time around when everyone else did, so I felt I kinda owed it to Chuck.

He is a total hater and pop culture whore, so I kind of could relate.

He proposed some interesting hypothetical scenarios. The one I found the most interesting I asked a bunch of my male friends. To my surprise, I was the only one who chose one of the options, while they all agreed on the other.

Here is the scenario, paraphrased:

Would you rather sleep with the one person in the world you most want to sleep with (celebrity, whatever), but NO ONE can ever know...

OR

Would you rather be seen in public hand in hand with this person for a long enough time that everyone THINKS you slept with them, but you don't actually get to sleep with them.

Would you rather have the 5, 10, 15 minutes of visceral experience with the person you most desire, or the vanity and notoriety associated with it, if you had to choose between the two?

To me, the choice was obvious. But ALL my male friends disagreed with me. I wonder what this says about me. I have my theories.

WFC

Same Bat Channel

Here is today's Good Advice From a Bad Person.

It is about hamsters. Awwww.

Wasteland

I am reading Patton Oswalt's new book right now. It's a nice read; funny and compelling, but I noticed something. So many of these new books AREN'T books. So many of these new celebrated authors don't bother writing novels. They are mishmashed memoirs and jokey sections. I could totally pull this off, and it is much easier than a novel. Thanks lazy readers/writers, for giving me hope.



Speaking of memoirs I wish I could write about half the shit that happens to me in here.

Instead I'll just continue to complain about my car. The radiator exploded and the windshield needs to be replaced. Trust me, that is so not as interesting as the real shit I want to complain about.

Apparently we are all lined up for another snowpocalypse again today. I don't really care. It's all the same to me.

To bright futures.

Have To

Here it is, like every other Thursday.

In other news, fuck your couch.

2011

Happy New Year.

Things I learned in 2010:

1. Cats are just as annoying to own as I thought they would be
2. It's nice having a warm, fuzzy jerk to come home to
3. You can't always get what you want
4. Some people you just can't help
5. I will never have a car that runs perfectly and without incident
6. Being happy is all that matters
7. There are people out there who enjoy what I write
8. I like early 90's college rock way more than I should

Things for 2011:

1. Write more, bitch less
2. Get paid to write
3. Know when it's time to let go
4. Eat better/cheaper
5. Play sports
6. Go to a Phillies game with my dad
7. Onward, upward
8. Schedule

I am started 2011 pretty much how I started 2010. Same job, same apartment, same life. While I am alright with my job, apartment and life, I feel like I should not start 2012 the same way. I have made progress this year, but most of it is not tangible. I think I am a happier stronger person, but some of the shallow things, like money and job are where they were a a year ago. Shallow things matter. Progress is important. I want to be like a shark, always moving, not even able to go backward. I'll let you know how this works out.

Those aren't resolutions per se, but continuing goals, maxims and benchmarks.

What about you? How was your 2010? What are you trying to accomplish in 2011? How far have you come? How far will you go?