How come you cant walk past a pizza box without opening it to see what kind/how many slices might be inside? Regardless of the time of day or how hungry I am, I can't not look inside. It's like a car wreck, you can't help but look.
Why is iced tea so delicious?
Are the super tight jeans that hipsters wear actually comfortable? Or are they just trying to make some sort of fashion statement that says, "the comfort level of my jeans is inversely proportional to how cool / how much of a hipster I am". What do hipsters wear to work out in? Barbed wire leggings?
How come I can't keep from screaming during really awesome songs at live shows?
Does anyone else buy couches purely on their "napability"? Screw matching a decor or a nice leather Potter Barn sofa (yes sofa, not couch). If you cant fully lay out on a couch and get a good hour to two hour nap on the thing, toss it.
What ever happend to clear pepsi?
Friday, March 20, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Slumdog Anxiety
It has now been 65 days since I was laid off from my job and based on the super fun Monday I just its become very apparent that the more time I spend away from cubicles the less I want to go back to them.
Monday 3/09 - After coaching a good friend of mine through the semi catastrophe of the pipes in her bathroom sink bursting, we decided to take a jaunt around town for some aimless errands and some good ol' fashion day drinking now that the northern hemisphere of mother earth is tilting its way back to nicer weather and providing us with more daylight hours in which to jaunt. Not so fast though -- It just so happened that with daylight savings now in our favor we didn't realize that our journey around town didn't get under way until about 4:45/5pm. So, instead of being met with the open arms of an unobstructed late afternoon Philly sidewalk, we had to deal with the onslaught of the proletariat making their mad dashes for public transportation and parking decks in their work suits and khakis now shlubby and wrinkled from a day spent at their desk in a recumbent position.
Weaving our way through the crowd with only my aviators to hide behind and our actual destination unknown, my friends and I started to experience what we affectionately refer to as "slumdog anxiety". For the uninitiated, "slumdog anxiety" describes the nervous/excited/extremely anxious feeling we (my friends in question and I) and I'm sure many other moviegoers experienced during the entire two hours of Slumdog Millionaire. I'm not saying its a bad movie, in fact it was a great one. I loved it. Part of its greatest though obviously comes from the fact that you experience a sense of extremely heightened anxiety, sustained for almost two straight hours. But I disgress.
Not having worked for two plus months now, it has been sometime since I have been around so many working people all at once. And, having most recently worked in the suburbs for over four years, it has been even longer since I have been in Philadelphia at 5pm when the school bell rings and everyone makes the aforementioned mad dash to get home to their loved ones (or cats). Between bouts of intense concentration of making sure that my stride was the appropriate speed to even be on a city sidewalk at 5pm, the slumdog anxiety that I felt in my chest just trying to navigate through the swarms really made me stop and think -- Should I be so quick to go back to that? Can I go back to that? What kind of beer should I drink while the sun is still up?
Monday 3/09 - After coaching a good friend of mine through the semi catastrophe of the pipes in her bathroom sink bursting, we decided to take a jaunt around town for some aimless errands and some good ol' fashion day drinking now that the northern hemisphere of mother earth is tilting its way back to nicer weather and providing us with more daylight hours in which to jaunt. Not so fast though -- It just so happened that with daylight savings now in our favor we didn't realize that our journey around town didn't get under way until about 4:45/5pm. So, instead of being met with the open arms of an unobstructed late afternoon Philly sidewalk, we had to deal with the onslaught of the proletariat making their mad dashes for public transportation and parking decks in their work suits and khakis now shlubby and wrinkled from a day spent at their desk in a recumbent position.
Weaving our way through the crowd with only my aviators to hide behind and our actual destination unknown, my friends and I started to experience what we affectionately refer to as "slumdog anxiety". For the uninitiated, "slumdog anxiety" describes the nervous/excited/extremely anxious feeling we (my friends in question and I) and I'm sure many other moviegoers experienced during the entire two hours of Slumdog Millionaire. I'm not saying its a bad movie, in fact it was a great one. I loved it. Part of its greatest though obviously comes from the fact that you experience a sense of extremely heightened anxiety, sustained for almost two straight hours. But I disgress.
Not having worked for two plus months now, it has been sometime since I have been around so many working people all at once. And, having most recently worked in the suburbs for over four years, it has been even longer since I have been in Philadelphia at 5pm when the school bell rings and everyone makes the aforementioned mad dash to get home to their loved ones (or cats). Between bouts of intense concentration of making sure that my stride was the appropriate speed to even be on a city sidewalk at 5pm, the slumdog anxiety that I felt in my chest just trying to navigate through the swarms really made me stop and think -- Should I be so quick to go back to that? Can I go back to that? What kind of beer should I drink while the sun is still up?
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Techno Freak(Out)
This past Sunday night my computer died. I rebooted, restarted and did all the tricks I saw the Asian IT guy in my old office do, but nothing worked. The screen said something to the effect of "insert original operating software and select 'fix my computer'". However, after tearing apart my apartment for about two hours, it became apparent to me that the aforementioned software was nowhere to be found. The next day I dutifully drove to the Best Buy in town, purchased the necessary software, installed it and now everything is back to normal. Hence a new blog entry.
The point of this blog isn't to talk about my home computer repair skills or the exorbitant amount of money Bill Gates is charging for copies of Vista. Instead, it's the semi-minor panic attack I had when my computer crashed. I freaked. My mind was reeling all night thinking about the important files, music, data, etc. that might be lost. But more importantly, I freaked out because I wasn't online. I realize that South Park did an excellent treatment of this very topic with their episode where the Internet goes out, but it was not until I personally lost all computing and internet access that the issue became crystalline.
I was without computing power and the interwebs for roughly 20 hours from the time my computer crashed on Sunday night to me getting things back up and running. Granted I have a blackberry so I was technically still getting my emails, but it was still blatantly obvious that either a) I spend entirely way too much time on my computer or b) I'm in love with it. My sincere hope is that it is the latter and not the former.
It's Day 58 since I lost my job and I need to get out of the house. I wish I had gotten laid off in the summer time.
The point of this blog isn't to talk about my home computer repair skills or the exorbitant amount of money Bill Gates is charging for copies of Vista. Instead, it's the semi-minor panic attack I had when my computer crashed. I freaked. My mind was reeling all night thinking about the important files, music, data, etc. that might be lost. But more importantly, I freaked out because I wasn't online. I realize that South Park did an excellent treatment of this very topic with their episode where the Internet goes out, but it was not until I personally lost all computing and internet access that the issue became crystalline.
I was without computing power and the interwebs for roughly 20 hours from the time my computer crashed on Sunday night to me getting things back up and running. Granted I have a blackberry so I was technically still getting my emails, but it was still blatantly obvious that either a) I spend entirely way too much time on my computer or b) I'm in love with it. My sincere hope is that it is the latter and not the former.
It's Day 58 since I lost my job and I need to get out of the house. I wish I had gotten laid off in the summer time.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Second First Entry
Within hours of posting my very first blog entry ever, one of my closest friends (who I think is a professional blogger but no one is really sure what he does for a living) immediately dismissed my blog as lacking purpose and reason. To which, my reply was "whats the real purpose of a blog?" Am I supposed to be using my blog to change the world? Are the words I'm typing right now going to single handily pull our economy out of the toilet? As a former (and hopefully future) online marketing professional, my own conscience will not let me monetize my blog and let Google AdSense post ads alongside of my words that their algorithms deem to be revelant to my ranting. My initial intention of writing a blog was not to become a blogger (yes of course I realize its a self defeating prophecy). But, I dont want twitter with you. I dont want you to add me to your facebook or your linkedin networks. I dont use myspace anymore except to listen to new bands. And if you use friendster go fuck yourself. I'm writing this blog for me. I'd rather put my thoughts on "paper" as a type of cathartic excercise instead of seeing a therapist; hopefully leaving me some miniscule sense of accomplishment in what has recently been an existence of futility.
Maybe as I continue to write here a greater purpose will emerge, but for now my entries will be pure rants. Some will be funnier than others and some might end up being a little darker than you would expect from me. These are my thoughts, these are only my thoughts.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
First - 02.22.09
As of January 5th, 2008 I have been unemployed for 48 days. I have not put on a pair of pants that aren't of the sweat or jean persuasion since interviewing at Emory for their MBA program almost a month ago. My internal timeclock is now so messed up that I can't fall asleep before 3am and routinely sleep until 11am or noon every day. On an almost daily basis, friends from across the country and family members in other parts of the world, invite me to come visit them. The irony of being unemployed though is that I have limitless free time on my hands but feel economically limited and am admittedly afraid to accept any of these invitations at the risk of spending my goverment issued salary. So instead, I sit on my couch at great length, go the gym two to three times a week, play tennis every wednesday night and try to socialize as much as my friends will allow themselves. While I am actively job searching and patiently waiting to hear from the three MBA programs I submitted applications to, my life is decidely one of leisure, just not the brand of leisure I would prefer to partake in.....sigh
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