Episode 2: Hey, help me raise money for my dead husband’s charity with The Muppets while my daughter watches and judges you on our first date. No pressure.

Where We Left Off

In the last episode, a woman (Emily) who has already played and won the television game “fall in love on television and get married” is introduced as the main character on a new season of “fall in love on television and get married”. She is a widower with a daughter.

She met 22 white people and 3 carefully selected not-white-people. She eliminated six people from the show at the end of the episode by not giving them a boutonniere, because this is Cotillion.

Randy, the guy who dressed like a grandmother and then stripped for her.

The Token Black Guy, who was the token black guy.

Jean-Paul, who had as much of a shot of winning as I did.

Jackson, the guy who does sit-ups for a living.

David, a singer-songwriter who is terrible at both singing and songwriting.

and Brent, the 40 year old guy who had six fucking children already.

Starting this week, we were told things were really gonna heat up, because now we’re going to start going on one-on-one dates so Emily can really get a feel for who she’s going to marry, no really, for real this time, seriously, she’s going to marry him this time, seriously.

Amongst the remaining guys, we mostly have to look forward to how far the two guys left who have children are willing to go in selling out their offspring to get laid and the fight between a guy who looks like Chris Kirkpatrick from NSYNC and a guy whose name is Kalon, which sounds like a character from Street Fighter II or Mortal Kombat.

The Recap

The episode opened with Emily casually going to meet up with some lady friends of hers to show us that, yeah: she’s just one of the girls! One of them was Indian and looked like she didn’t know Emily, even remotely, and was probably just asked to hang out by producers because everyone looked like they were from the film The Help otherwise. Emily hugged everyone but her before leaving.

We meet at the house, where the guys are informed that there will be one-on-one dates for Emily to get to know people better (Bachelorettes: They’re just like us!). After this, there is a bunch of bro-fiving while they all hang out in a pool together with no chicks in a totally heterosexual way. One of the guys had a full back tattoo, which means he is probably a terrible person.

–

I’m not a Prize to be won, Ryan, but here’s a rose that signifies you could win me.

The first date is with my original pick to win it all: ex-football player Ryan. To give people a horrific view into what they signed up for, Ryan gets to go to Emily’s house, take in groceries and bake cookies for her daughter’s soccer game.

Even though it’s visible that Ryan is horrified, he does the thing any guy does when he just wants to get laid and says how much fun he’s having and tells her he feels like they’re “totally making a connection”, even though it’s almost statistically impossible to have made a connection by this point, as they’ve spoken 14.8 words to each other. When they’re done baking, he says, “Finally, I can feel like a man again.” Which is amazing because this isn’t 1955.

–

Sidenote: the dates are, so far, my favorite part of The Bachelorette. Due to the insane pressure to not get eliminated, people make wild overstatements with no backing. If this was the real world, this would be fucking horrifying/is and it’s called being a wet blanket.

Bachelorette: “Hi, my name is Em..”

Date: “Do you feel like we’re connecting? I feel like we’re connecting. I bought us a dog and made up things that happen in the future when we hang out that are adorable. Our first child’s name is Amelia, because that’s kinda like your name I FUCKING LOVE YOU SO MUCH.”

–

Where was I. She tells him that he has to wait in the car because she’s not ready for anyone to meet her child yet. She then proceeds to take a gigantic camera crew down to meet her daughter and exploit her on national television. Amazing.

They go to dinner at a restaurant where no one else is, because that is normal. She states that she doesn’t want to be a prize to be won, even though she’s on a show where the goal is to win the prize, which is the girl, so I don’t think she gets it. He keeps saying how connected they are. They appear to have zero in common. So, obviously, she gives him a rose so that he won’t be eliminated.

They then go outside where Emily’s favorite band is casually playing a song with a message as blatant as Sebastian singing “Kiss the Girl”. He does not kiss the girl. They awkwardly stand on an elevated stage in the middle of a crowd and dance. I now have zero faith in the fact that Ryan will win the Tournament de Emily. He’s about as smart as…a football player.

–

Let’s go on a group date that raises money for my dead husband’s charity. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Guys?

A select group of the other guys (Aaron, Alessanjandro, Charlie , Chris, Jef, John, Kalon, Kyle, Michael, Nate, Stevie and Tony) get to go on a group date with Emily later. As a fun idea, she decides that the group will raise money for her dead husband’s charity by doing a variety show with the Muppets. No pressure. At this point, Stevie (the guy who looks like Chris Kirkpatrick from NSYNC) has to be absolutely jizzing his pants because he’s an “MC” for a living/skeezes on 13 year old girls at Bar Mitzvah’s. His reaction dictates this hypothesis.

Charlie, the guy who fell off of a building a few years ago and is still recovering apparently, has a panic attack because his speech therapy since the fall is still coming along. I’ll just say it: if Charlie started speaking like the Hulk, I wouldn’t be even remotely surprised. “Charlie upset. Charlie hungry. Charlie no want talk on show with fuzzy animal thing. CHARLIE WANT GIRL FOR MARRY.” Here’s a tip: don’t go on a fucking television show requiring you to speak your way to marriage if this is going to be a problem. No. I’m not feeling bad for that.

They do the show which I don’t even want to waste words on. It’s a show with The Muppets and a bunch of wildly untalented guys who just signed up to try and have sex with a hot girl. It’s insulting to people who like The Muppets. Jim Henson saw this in heaven and threw his remote at the TV and broke it and flailed with his arms in the air as he ran to his room and locked the door and hasn’t come out yet. She has her daughter in the audience to see all of the guys. The one she doesn’t want to introduce anyone to yet.

Random other note: Chris, one of the contestants, looks like Gerard Butler.

–

Everyone hates Kalon and Stevie is probably a coke head.

After the show, everyone sits and has drinks as they try to talk to Emily one by one.

She sits with Gerard Butler and says to him, “One of the things I like about you is that, you’re sooooo good looking.” That’s actually something she said. So, there’s that.

She then has a heart to heart with entrepreneurial Jef with one F and it turns out I don’t hate him, which in turn makes me hate myself. No, wait, then they interview one F and he says…

“Tonight was the best talk I’ve had with her yet. It was probably the best talk anybody has had with her yet.”

Nope, nevermind. You’re a total douchebag who spells his name with one F.

M.C. NSYNC takes time to slow dance with Emily, while they joke about what songs they would be dancing to if this were high school, and she says “NSYNC”, which I find to be an amazing slip. Even Emily thinks this d-bag looks like Chris Kirkpatrick. Kalon steals her as they dance.

M.C. NSYNC may or may not be on 14 pounds of cocaine.

Kalon and M.C. NSYNC have an argument about manners on a TV show where 25 men vie for the attention of a lady. M.C. NSYNC tells Kalon that he strongly dislikes him, to which Kalon responds:

“I wouldn’t like me either if I were you bro, but fortunately I’m me.”

Which, sadly? Is a pretty great bro-diss.

We later see people around a pool talking about things, when Kalon tells Doug, the guy who is using his kid as bait to get laid by a woman who also has a kid, that he’s a bad Dad, which, to be fair, is wildly accurate. Don’t look now, but Kalon is fantastic.

Doug tells him to “stop right there” and to “just check it” and may or may not start rapping at any minute. He is wearing black sneakers around a swimming pool in what appears to be 100 degree weather. So.

–

Emily and Joe have a one on one. Joe is worthless and probably really bad at job interviews.

Here’s all you need to know about Emily’s one-on-one date with the guy who may or may not have a made up profession as a “field energy advisor”.

- Joe is dumb and uninteresting.

- When Emily asks where Joe sees himself in five years, he says he’d like to be where they are with her family, to which she responds, “He said he wanted to meet my family! That’s like, my dream!” To be clear: Emily’s dream guy will say that he wants to meet her family. That’s it.

- Emily doesn’t pick Joe and cries about it because she feels bad. Joe was worthless and she basically just put down a dog. It’s cool, Emily, he has tons of energy to advise in the field.

–

I’m going to fire a few of you from getting laid by me, ever.

In the lead-up to the rose ceremony, Emily meets with a few of the guys one last time. Notables:

Ryan, the football player who I used to love but he broke my heart because he’s stupid, wrote Emily a 7 page letter that ends “Love in Christ” (which is in no way creepy) and he demands that she read the entire thing while he sits there, or else it gets the hose again.

Tony, a.k.a. the other guy who’s using his kid as bait to get laid, then sits and says to her, “Did you know I had a kid? YOU have a kid? This is crazy! Let’s bang.” That’s the gist of it, anyway.

The eliminations go down, and only two need to go because Joe who wants to meet her family has already been eliminated and is advising energy elsewhere.

ELIMINATED:

Joe, the field energy guy who is oh fine i’m wearing out that joke.

Aaron, the Canadian who is poor that wears hipster glasses.

and Kyle, the worthless financial advisor whose friends are probably like, “Have you ever had to hang out with Kyle alone? He’s so awkward, man.”

SURPRISINGLY NOT ELIMINATED:

One half of Allesanjandro. Either/or. Wildly worthless, but still in play because otherwise we might have a lawsuit on our hands.

The ostrich egg guy who didn’t have the ostrich egg this time. Fuck you, ostrich egg guy, for your broken promise. (see what I did there?)

Wolf (dude is not living up to his nickname, making it more and more apparent that it was self-imposed).

Professional ex-alcoholic, mainly because he should be embarrassed that he wears his hair in a ponytail the way Tom Cruise did in The Last Samurai.

FRONTRUNNERS:

Jef with one F, as much as I hate to admit it.

Arie, because he still does the thing that her dead husband did for a living and they also showed them making out in the “scenes from next week’s episode” so I’m cheating.

See you next week, everyone. Hopefully way earlier than Thursday. Sorry about that.

I love really horrible smutty television.

There. I said it.

My admitting this is sort of like a southerner waving a confederate flag saying, “This might come as a bit of a shocker, but I’m kinnnnda racist.”

Sure. I subscribe to US Weekly. I’ve written entire 2,000+ word diatribes about how feminine I am. I’m not really throwing you a curveball here (or DID I by adding in a sports metaphor? HEY-o!).

I don’t know, though. It’s like people have a problem with admitting these kinds of things these days. I’m usually one of them. Because the other side of trashy, smutty television me is the guy who goes to see films at places that allow you to buy a glass of wine with my “independent cinema”. The other side of me is the guy that enjoys listening to bands you haven’t heard of yet.

I mean. I’m that guy.

Sometimes, though, I just want to shut-off and watch some good old fashioned crap. Which is sort of just what you did when you were a kid.

Think about it. Kids sit in front of the television and watch either a dragon that tells them how to say the letter R or a street that’s infested with mythical creatures that sometimes live in trash cans and/or are giant talking birds.

That’s how I’d like my entertainment. I want it to be like Teletubbies where things are colorful and just run around and maybe talk, but for the most part I get what they’re doing because I understand simple gestures and read Highlights magazine when I was 8.

That’s exactly what reality television is: Teletubbies with breasts and simplistic, formulaic human emotions that can mostly be understood with the volume off.

It’s a guilty pleasure, and it’s always a guaranteed trainwreck.

And I love a good trainwreck. Hell, everyone does, man. Because trainwreck’s make you feel like a “not trainwreck”, and that’s something that we’re all searching for daily. We all just want something, ANYTHING that makes us feel like we’re doing it right and someone else is doing it wrong. The good news is, someone makes a living doing that for us.

They just might not really know it.

Since I’m  just going with it and openly accepting my love of crap, I’ve decided to jump into the shallow end of the pool head first (see what I did there?).

I’m going to review this season of The Bachelorette on a weekly basis. 

I have never watched an episode of a single season of the show, but it seems pretty simple: people are terrible and will do anything to get married and/or be on television and get famous. The guys on it are basically a laundry list of everyone you (re: I) have ever disliked because they are a douchebag 97.34% of the time, yet are still having sex with really attractive women. The show is what real life would be like if you could be eliminated by a hot girl at the end of the day for not being awesome. I feel like employers should probably just put hot women at work who judge men on a daily basis, because I feel like men would work a lot harder if they knew an attractive woman could dump him from his job at the end of the day. I digress.

Welcome to The Bachelorette, Reviewed by a Guy. Sorta.

(Want an in-depth analysis of the show? That’s impossible, because it’s a show called “The Bachelorette”. Instead, I’m going to just go through the 25 guys and the main event herself and discuss my opinions on them and their likelihood of getting a rose, which is what she gives them if she kinda/sorta wants to do them.)

Episode #1: 25 dudes try to get a girls attention shamelessly. So, you know. Every night at a bar.

The Bachelorette: Emily Maynard

How She Was Introduced On The Show: Riding a horse because that’s what people from the south do.

Chances of Winning: Not 100%, shockingly.

Emily was on The Bachelor a few years ago and was picked, but the guy who was said bachelor had anger management problems and wasn’t marriage material, which is in no way ironic when you are on a television show that requires only that you not be a total shitbag.

She’s attractive and oddly normal for a woman who has willingly chosen to find her husband AND marry him FOR THE SECOND TIME on national television. As a guy who has no shot with her whatsoever, and probably  zero common interests (unless you count the fact that we both love to breath and eat ice cream, which I’m just assuming for the latter part), I’d still find her sort of dateable, which seems like why they picked her. She’s a fembot in a good way.

Her first husband died in a plane crash and she’s a single mother so if you say anything bad about her every woman on the Internet/ever will hate you.

The fact that she has a daughter is going to basically restrict anyone from having sex with her. Any guy tuning into the show hoping for a slutty girl is going to be totally bummed out by this season because she actually has standards and is a good person (if you aren’t picking up on it yet, i’m pretty much talking about myself this entire time).

—

Emily met 25 guys in a row, one by one, as they got out of a limo because that’s how real life works.

It’s pretty great, because they all walk up and have to pretend like they didn’t watch episodes from the season she was in, knowing every little thing about her and basically tipping their hand that they’ve stalked the shit out of her prior to this.

So, basically: modern dating.

Below is my general take on each of them.

(Sidenote: I grabbed these pictures from ABC’s site. Each bio had a category named “Number of Tattoos.” Like, that was a real category in their bio. That was what they deemed “possibly a deciding factor.”)

Name: Aaron

Occupation: Biology Teacher/Being Canadian

Chances of Winning: Nope.

Aaron has zero chance of winning. He is from Canada and he’s poor (because he’s a teacher), which just feels like a dog with three legs. His bio on ABC says that “sometimes he prepares too much for the future and doesn’t live enough for today when I can enjoy it most”, which is a crafty, wordsmith-y way of saying “I’m pretty not into committing and love to have sex before we have time to think about the ramifications emotionally.” He wore gigantic ray-ban wayfarer eye glass frames with what appeared to be no glass in them. Which, let’s face it, I find commendable. However, Emily is not from the Mission or Park Slope, so I’m not sure what he’s angling for here.

*Update: I researched the episode again (okay, okay, fast forwarded through on a DVR where yeah, it still lives in my home) and realized it says he’s from LA. It’s amazing, the information online vs. what these guys put on TV is absolutely astounding. They all seem to be sort of lying…WHO SAW THAT COMING?!?

Name: Allejandro (wait for the next one)

Occupation: Hispanic

Chances of Winning: Nah, but he’ll stick around because he’s not white.

Allejandro was that guy who had a mohawk and sort of tried to act more Hispanic than he was. I respect it: producers probably have to keep you if you’re “not white”, so he just went for it. I suspected on looks that  he goes to clubs with one word names like “spill” with a lowercase “s”. After reading on his ABC bio that he “goes big”, I suspected correctly.  When I found out he was from San Francisco, I was excited because I live in San Francisco too! and then I liked him. Then the goldfish knee-jerk reaction wore off and I was over him. He didn’t get much air time, so, meh.

Name: Allesandro (no, seriously)

Occupation: The Other Latin Guy On The Show/Grain Merchant

Chance of Winning: Incredibly doubtful.

To be clear: The show has Allesandro and Allejandro. They shall move forward as Allesanjandro.

He did the cliche “beso me mucho” thing where he said a really generic line in “not english” and we’re all supposed to be whhHoOoAhHh totally impressed. Fuck that. Try harder. He was nice enough though, and it’s pretty clear that she made the choice to keep the two latinos as opposed to the black guy. We’ll get to that later.

Name: Arie

Occupation: The Thing Her Husband Who Died In A Plane Crash Did, Which Is In No Way Fucked Up Of The Producers To Do.

Chance of Winning: High, Because He Does The Thing Her Husband Who Died In A Plane Crash Did, Which Is In No Way Fucked Up Of The Producers To Do.

Arie was picked because he is a racecar driver and Emily’s ex-husband who died in a plane crash was also a racecar driver and oh my god have I voiced my opinion on how fucked up this is yet??!? Arie, while entirely uninteresting, will no doubt stick around because this is basically The Truman Show becoming a reality. He had a lot of shots walking around in slow motion on a race track, which means he does that in real life, too.

Name: Brent

Occupation: Technology Salesman/Being Way Too Old For A Show Named “The Bachelorette”

Chance of Winning: ELIMINATED

Brent was somewhere over 40 years old and had six children. HOLY SHIT, Brent, that’s a red flag. YOU HAVE SIX KIDS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON A TELEVISION SHOW NAMED THE BACHELORETTE? He cried when he was eliminated, because for some reason he was surprised that a busty blonde 26 year old wasn’t into adopting a Mormon entourage.

Name: Charlie

Occupation: Recruiter/The guy who almost died in what may or may not have been an accident we feel sorry for, but he was wayyyyy too vague about it so we’ll be shallow and assume he was doing something fratty and while we’re happy he’s not dead, we’re not wildly surprised.

Chance of Winning: So so. He had an endearing moment with a dog, so that has to count for something.

I have no read on Charlie. I want to feel bad, because he had some tragic accident. But he also seems like he’s gonna be the dude who pulls the mega-ultra-sketchy shit later where he’s kind of a d-bag and we should have seen that coming. Like, the guy who says that women should be in the kitchen in hocks on into his spit-tooooon. Also: i’m probably entirely wrong and he’s a nice person, but that’s way less fun to write about and we’re writing about a show where people try to marry people on TV. So.

Name: Chris

Occupation: Corporate Sales/The Finest Beard Management, Ever.

Chance of Winning: With a beard like that, it’s hard to lose. At least in the first few episodes.

Chris made bobblehead doll replicas of himself and Emily and made them talk to each other as bobbleheads together. In any other situation, this would be considered the creepiest. shit. ever. But this is TV, so, I guess women just roll with it. Chris, just in general, has the look of a “reality television show guy”. I’m pretty sure his degree in college was “reality television show guy” and then he accidentally got a job in something that wasn’t a reality television show. He has all of the looks of a contender: good looking, seemingly not too dumb, referenced that he asked his parents for advice on love. He’s the chocolate chip cookie at the bakery: all else fails? You could probably buy some chocolate chip cookies and no one is gonna hate you when you get home with the bag. He appears to shave every 14.2 seconds but leaves a little stubble each time just in case he needs to be in a Gilette commercial where he strokes his face repeatedly and smiles in a mirror. At least he has a future.

Name: David

Occupation: Not A Good Singer/Songwriter.

Chance of Winning: It was like, -4,989% before he even showed up. ELIMINATED.

My favorite thing about David is that he was like the guy you know has failed at about 13 other reality shows and this was going to be his bread and butter. “I write love songs, she wants to fall in love, THIS IS MY MOMENT.” The problem is, David is the worst singer/songwriter of all time. When talking about how he loves to write music, they showed a video of him hitting three keys on a keyboard while he did this:

“EmilllyyYyyY. EMILLYYYYYY. EmiLlLlLlL-heee-heee-y. EMILY.”

Right now, if we had a keyboard and walked out to any street where bums are prevalent, handed them a keyboard and told them to sing about anything….like, they could sing about a pigeon…they’d be better at it than David. I am only unhappy he didn’t move forward because I would have loved to hear a more polished version of ”EmilllyyYyyY. EMILLYYYYYY. EmiLlLlLlL-heee-heee-y. EMILY (The Remix).”

Name: Doug

Occupation: Charity Director/Clearly Not That Great Of A Guy Because He’s Using His Child Mercilessly As Bait

Chance of Winning: Great, Because He’s Clearly Not That Great Of A Guy Because He’s Using His Child Mercilessly As Bait

Doug had a plan from the get go. I’m actually terrified, because I’m pretty sure Doug saw the season of The Bachelor that Emily was on and adopted a child for the possibilty of a future season she’d star in. Honestly, Doug mentioned his child back home at least 48 times and even brought out a letter written by the child TO EMILY. HOW IS THIS NOT CREEPY AS SHIT? Also, my greatest hope? There is no child. I’m praying to God that Doug is crazy as shit and has no children, that he’s writing these letters in broken English and poor handwriting to woo her. Try and tell me that discovery wouldn’t be the best thing to happen to TV since Clarissa Explains It All. Anyway, Doug probably goes to the top 3.

Name: Jackson

Occupation: He does sit-ups for a living.

Chance of Winning: ELIMINATED

I’m not even sure Jackson knows he was on the show yet. Either that, or he just tried to get eliminated so for his exit interview he could be like “check out these abs, guys.” Which he did. Jackson does not eat, he’s very attractive, and it’s unclear yet as to whether he can read a book. But, hey. If guys are allowed to like dumb girls, girls are allowed to like dumb guys. Clearly just on the show so he can get a spot in the back row of the next Insanity DVD.

Name: Jean-Paul

Occupation: Fish Knower.

Chance of Winning: ELIMINATED

Jean-Paul wore a bad suit and was a marine biologist. I don’t know. Did he ever have a fighting chance? He was a smart guy showing up to kegs n’ eggs. Seems like that wasn’t going to work from the beginning. Oddly, on his exit interview, he got really emotional and I didn’t see that coming. Arguably, he’s Kaiser Soze. But I guess we’ll never know.

Name: Jef

Occupation: Entrepre-Oh SHUT the fuck up with that, Jef.

Chance of Winning: 99%

First of all, there are two f’s in Jeff, Jef. Strike 1. Jef rode up to the event on a skateboard grabbing the bumper of a limo. Christ. Strike 2. Then there’s the fact that he’s an entrepreneur. I just. I hate that term. It’s so vague. It’s such a cop out. Saying “I’m an entrepreneur” to everyone else is insinuating that you are, in fact, not ambitious, but I am. I want to be a fireman, Jef, but I don’t go around telling people that. To be fair, he owns the Tom’s Shoes of water, but I am patiently waiting for him to say “I also have a champagne company that, for every glass we drink, will give one glass of champagne to a small African child in need.” He will, no doubt, at some point reference his travels to some place with a well in Africa/Guatemala and he will definitely make it to the final 3. He’s “the real guy” that’s “so not like her, but that’s what she’s here for, to take a chance!” I will love to hate Jef for the entirety of this show because I’m an asshole.

Name: Joe

Occupation: Field Energy Advisor, which sounds made up.

Chance of Winning: 1%

Joe did this obnoxious dance thing when he showed up. After a little research on ABC, he answered one of the questions they asked him with three exclamation marks. His occupation sounds like he read three words randomly on a resume and put them together to make a sentence. Joe, you lost before you got there.

Name: John/”The Wolf”

Occupation: Data Destruction Specialist. So, a paper shredder.

Chance of Winning: 50% on being named “The Wolf” alone.

Besides the fact that he told everyone his friends called him “The Wolf”, there was nothing memorable about The Wolf. I’m kinda bummed, really, because it’s a great nickname and it feels like it was wasted on the guy who no one really cares about. Maybe I’m wrong and he howls at the rose ceremony next episode. Who knows. For now, Wolf? I’m wildly disappointed in you. Do better. Name: Kalon

Occupation: King of the Douches

Chance of Winning: Winning? No. Staying on the show? Extremely high.

While everyone else showed up in a limo, Kalon flew in on a helicopter, which is kinda like showing up to the prom in a hummer. Per the code of reality television, he is “the guy that everyone hates on the show, even the viewers”. He is a “luxury brand consultant”, which means he probably sells Hugo Boss dress shirts at Bloomingdales and or is unemployed and has a trust fund, which is highly likely because his name is Kalon. In his interview, he said “he used to be a douche, but now he’s different and wants to show the world”, which means he’s just a bigger douche. Kalon will stick around because they can’t afford for him to leave: he’s that hateable. I can’t wait to see the manufactured fights they make with him.

Name: Kyle

Occupation: Financial Advisor

Chance of Winning: 50-75%

Even after re-watching, I have no real take on Kyle either way. I don’t dislike him, I don’t like him more than others, but I just know that he’s just kind of…there. I dunno. I could care less about Kyle, but he is in the money industry so he’s got that going for him.

I am a bit of a social media whore.

For the most part, I think anyone reading this is (how the hell else did you get here?). But I think sometimes, I am to a fault. I check Facebook incessantly for no reason. I tweet when it’s unnecessary. I think in “that’d be a great Instagram shot” thoughts.

Hell, man. Just to blow time, I check Path. I’d imagine this is what becoming a drug addict or a rampant gambler feels like.

Then a funny thing happened.

Pinterest showed up. And I didn’t get it.

Unless you live in a dark cave, you’ve heard of it. I don’t know, at this point people in dark caves have probably heard of it. If you have a girlfriend, it’s probably helped you understand why women hate fantasy football. Whenever I’m not looking, it’s like she’s just checking the waiver wire, checking to see if any new pins are available for repin. And here’s the thing that really sucks…

I’m bad at it.

How can you be bad at a social network, you ask? I’ll explain.

Pinterest is really simple: It’s a digital pinboard that you post pretty pictures on. Do you like that outfit that one chick wore to that thing? BOOM. Pin it. Do you like that picture of food? BOOM. Pin it. Do you like that “anything that can be photographed”? BOOM. Pin that shit. Honestly: it’s a really simple way to tell people what you like, and I get that.

But when I started trying to do it, I realized I was too late. More than that, I just wasn’t good at it. It was the same reason people told me they couldn’t relate to Twitter the way I could: they just had nothing to say. And that’s the thing: I’ve got PLENTY to say but not that much to show you. So, essentially, I’m fucked. I’m a person who thinks in words. I lose Pictionary every time I play it but I am a certified sniper when it comes to Catch Phrase.

When I go on Pinterest, I feel like people are speaking Chinese while playing Mouse Trap and patting their head, all at once. I simply cannot keep up with the rate that things are shared. It’s not only that, though.

I am just not the demographic.

I’m not saying men can’t pin. Look, plenty of them are good at it. I’m just not one of them.

I tried to solve this. Could I emulate other people’s boards? Could I simply yoink titles that other people had for their boards and use them as my own? It was that exact moment that I realized just how out of my league I was.

However, I did notice some patterns. On that note.

This is my interpretation of how to use Pinterest.

Make a board about DIY crafting. 

It’s funny, no one seemed to be into crafting before Pinterest existed. You never heard people saying in passing, “hey, I tell you about that lamp shade I made out of sequins and old rubber tires?” Now? If i’m to believe my friend’s Pinterest boards, everyone spends a majority of their life creating random terrariums or hats that make you look like an owl. This brings up a larger theme that Pinterest has essentially made people more interesting even if they’re just lazily throwing pictures up on a board as a new way of hitting the “like” button. And, i’ll take it. Why not. I’d rather you be into crafting than the Real Housewives of anything.

Talk about the wedding you’re going to have before a man (or woman) has asked to marry you.

Seriously, it doesn’t matter: Pinterest allows people to be passive aggressive as shit. Angry he hasn’t popped the question yet? Drop a hint and just start posting what the floral arrangements are and what the rose petals will look like on the alter of the venue you’ve already selected (or all 1,894 of them on another board, entirely optional). While it would be creepy for a girl to do this in her bedroom, with or without a boyfriend, it is in no way creepy on Pinterest. Utterly fascinating to me.

While you’re at it, pin what your home is going to look like someday. 

For the most part, we all live in some unbelievably boring place. It probably has some chairs, a bed and some other furniture we can presumably afford (re: shitty furniture) and maybe, just maybe, it’s got some trinkets and doodads that make it “so us.” Go online, find pictures of rich people’s houses and post pictures on a board about what your home is going to look like when you grow up. Maybe a room with a nice lamp. Definitely a crazy nice kitchen with the crap you can’t afford at Williams Sonoma. Boom. You did it.

Talk about an eating disorder you may or may not have in way that is juuuust masked enough. 

This goes for both sexes. Sure, no one really wants to hear about if you think you’re fat or what weight you’re gaining or losing through Facebook or Twitter updates. Those are just words and they sound like someone bitching that you don’t want to have drinks with. That sucks, because you know what we all love? Attention (points finger at self as he writes this in the hopes that you will read it). But hey, guess what? Pinterest made it work! Instead, post a picture of good looking people or pictures of food you “can’t eat” and now it’s just a pretty picture that sorta doesn’t have anything to do with you in particular. It’s just close enough to sounding like self-improvement, too, so most people are into it.

Pin any well designed picture of a quote that is vague. 

HUGE bonus points if it’s a variation of “Keep Calm and Carry On.” That shit is so gonna get repined, just wait for the followers to get on your Pin-wagon. While your’e at it..

Find any infographic about anything. 

It honestly doesn’t matter. It could be about the ratio of pistachios that get left behind because their shell has that awkward opening that’s just not open enough so you can’t eat it to pistachios that you can definitely eat. Seriously. It doesn’t matter. If it’s an infographic? Pin that shit. If you’re a brand trying to get into Pinterest in a way that fans will relate to? This is your easiest way to offer kids candy in the back of a Pinterest van. Do it.

Pin pictures of babies doing things. 

It’s just vague enough that it doesn’t say “I WANT A BABY”. It’s saying, “hey, don’t blame me, I’m just looking at adorable babies doing some adorable shit, what’s wrong with that?” Babies are the cats of Pinterest. They’re pretty much an easy go-to.

Pin pictures of tiny animals.

No matter what. Don’t think, just pin that shit. Baby giraffe? Boom. Monkey riding a pig? Boom.

Pin any picture of food. 

Food was the one thing that got a little left behind when Twitter started. Explaining food isn’t as cool as seeing food. Guess what? If you joined Pinterest, you just went from making Kraft Macaroni and Cheese to cooking some kind of dumpling you’ve never heard of with ingredients you can only buy in places that don’t exist. And you’re putting bacon on everything. Pinterest made everyone a foodie.

Finally, when all else fails…

Just repin anything someone else pins with a lot of followers. It’s just like any other social network, guys. We’re all just yelling the same thing at each other.

It’s not that I don’t like Pinterest. I actually really do. I just feel like I’m not good at that, and like a kid throwing things on the playground, i’m bummed out. It’s just like Twitter for me for a different breed of person: I’ve seen people become legitimate friends in real life because they liked someone’s boards. It blows my mind.

If statistics are correct, it’s gonna outgrow Facebook, Twitter, Twitface, Facer, Facertweet…it’s gonna be the next big thing. Hell, it’s already been the next big thing for longer than you think. And this is why.

Ever watched girls on a couch while guys watch football? They often look at fashion magazines/anything and just show other girls what they’re looking at and say, “that’s cute.”

That’s Pinterest.

Forget the “like” button.

Just make the “that’s cute” button already.

Rocket Shoes Mixtape 59: Pin This Sh*t.

Stream the whole thing right here.

Or.

Download the entire thing in adorable little MP3′s right here.

For a lot of my life, people have said that I’m “sorta gay.”

And, I get it. I’m pretty effeminate for a dude. Which is funny, because I used the word “pretty” to qualify that statement.

But, no, I get it. I just don’t think “gay” is the right word.

I’m girly.

There’s a huge difference. I feel bad for gay guys who get pigeonholed into the thought process that being “girly” makes them gay. No, being gay makes them gay.  I can imagine this bothers gay dudes. They just aren’t that into girls, so I’m sure they don’t want to be told that they are one.

What I am is an entirely different thing.

See, in my formative years, I was raised by a single mom. A single mom who had wanted a girl since she was about -22 years old. Imagine the feeling, then, of not getting a girl. The feeling of getting a household full of burping, farting boys instead. Boys that would never appreciate her love of shoes or bags. Boys that would not appreciate the haircut she got, did you notice? Boys that, put simply, would never be her daughter.

And then I happened.

Sure, I have plenty of total “dude” qualities. Left to my own devices, I’d watch Sportscenter on loop all day. I love movies where shit blows up for no reason. I like whiskey and scotch. I don’t understand why it takes so long for girls to get ready. Fill in the next man cliche here. That’s the thing: I’m just “dude” enough that most guys don’t notice that I’m a girl in man’s clothing.

Because then there’s the “raised by a woman” part of me.

I love shoes.

Let me say that again.

I fucking love shoes. If buying pairs of them were a sport, I’m Tiger Woods pre-ambien meltdown.

I buy product. Not shampoo, or soap. I buy “product.” My shower houses two salon pumps of Bumble and Bumble, Kiehl’s and Bliss face wash, and something called “minty scrub soap.” I own eye creams. Notice the “s” there? That’s because I own multiple eye creams.

I just want to talk. All the time. About nothing but feelings. I have feelings bulimia.

I talk about celebrities using only their first names.

I say an uncomfortable amount of the phrases featured in the Shit Girls Say video.

I do like to dance like no one is watching.

I enjoy a good romantic comedy. So much so that I am ordered to take my best friend (a girl, obviously) to movies by her husband who doesn’t want to see them.

I own Ani Difranco albums (this one arguably makes me a lesbian, but they are still girls the last time I checked).

I’ve been the only male invited to not one but two baby showers.

I cry when I get too drunk.

I am the closest thing a male can get to having a period.

And you know what? Screw it, man. It’s who I am.

I’m not a gay guy.

I’m a f%*king girl.

The other day, I was sitting in a cubicle at an office of about 100 people I don’t know. I was blaring music in headphones when a song came on that I really liked. It was catchy as all hell, the hook was great. And this is what it sounded like.

Around the fifteenth listen, I wrote my friend Julie this exact statment:

“I’m sitting in a corporate office writing serious ideas about a large brand…with this playing in my headphones. No one around me has any idea. Is this what it feels like to be in the closet?”

To answer my own question:

Yes. This is what it feels like to be in the closet. But not the gay closet.

The “girly dude” closet.

You’re all invited to join. I’ve got at least one pair of shoes for everyone.

Rocket Shoes Mixtape 58: Songs I’d Play For You If You Called Me (Maybe)

Stream Disc One right here or download the whole thing in mp3′s right here.

Stream Disc Two right here or download the whole thing in mp3′s right here.

I really love The Bold Italic. I have ever since I randomly stumbled on them one evening, when I was probably a bottle of wine deep watching a movie I didn’t want people to know about.

(A League of Their Own.)

(No, seriously. It was probably A League of Their Own. If you don’t like that movie, you’re a bad person and don’t laugh at commercials with talking animals.)

But, no. I like them a lot. They embody everything I wanted to be a part of when I decided one day that I’d actually like to be a writer. So, I sent them a wacky idea that was pretty (wait for it) self-deprecating and they were into it. And they published it. And made pictures for it. Which makes it feel like I’m a real boy.

The link below is the post I wrote for them about my ridiculous identity crisis that has been boiling up for over six years in San Francisco. Thank you so much to The Bold Italic for being the first pub to put a little faith in Rocket Shoes. Here’s hoping I can write 4,934 more for you.

The Life of a Bro-ster.

A couple of weeks ago, I quit my job to go out into the world of freelance writing.

Which basically means I stopped receiving money on purpose.

Which basically seems like a questionable life choice.

But frankly, when you do this, there are a few things that can happen: people will think you are funny and/or talented and hire you to write words again or you will die in an unemployed fire (or just be unemployed, develop an extreme drinking problem which will, in turn, cause you to be a fantastic writer again. I know, right? I love this job)…

Or you will realize that everything has words attached to it. Everything. And someone…SOMEONE is going to have to employ you. Hear me out.

Have you ever looked at crap and wondered:

A) WHY is this a thing? (Prime examples: an electronic tie rack, capri pants a.k.a.the pant that can’t decide what it wants to be, 1,308 varieties of dish soap named after mountain peaks that do not exist that you have not gone to because they do not exist, etc)

B) WHO the F*CK wrote the words explaining that thing?

You probably don’t experience “B” a lot unless you are a writer or a stoner (or both, which is usually the case, let’s put our fingers on our noses and point at ourselves).

I think about “A” and “B” a lot. And I think about “B” so much so that I thought a full-time job wasn’t required. You know why?

Because it leads me to believe that there are a lot of things that need words out there. A lot of useless, unbelievably strange things that can’t even be explained by the people who make and sell them (!!).

I know this because every time I’m on an airplane, I read SkyMall.

SkyMall is perplexing because it’s like 4,897 of those kiosks in the middle of a mall that oh my God WHO is going to that thing to buy a cell phone cover?

That’s SkyMall: the mini-mall of mini-malls.

It’s even more perplexing because someone IS going to that thing. They are buying things from SkyMall. They are buying things that are inexplicable, unnecessary…and amazing. And those things have descriptions.

Here are a few of my favorites. Remember: THEY ARE SELLING THESE THINGS ON AN AIRPLANE, AND PEOPLE ARE ACTUALLY BUYING THEM, SO MUCH SO THAT THE MAGAZINE HAS BEEN IN PRINT FOR UPWARDS OF FOUR DECADES.

And, yeah: These are real things that I may just write for someday.

—

Product: Protein Ketchup

Tagline: ”Finally, a ketchup that’s good for you!”

Analysis: Was this a ‘thing’? Were people really avoiding ketchup because they couldn’t load up on it before a workout? Was that the #1 problem with ketchup? Did they hire anyone to research this, or just get drunk one night and write this and send it in before thinking? I hope their next product is “Water: It won’t drunk dial you.”

—

Product: Military Binoculars

Tagline: “See the color of an eagle’s eye…FROM A MILE AWAY!”

Analysis: I want to buy a pair so that this conversation can go down at my apartment someday:

Friend: “Wow. Drew. These binoculars are AWFULLY big. What are they for?”

Me: “Seeing the color of an eagle’s eye.”

Friend: “Why would I ever need to do tha-”

Me: “Brown. Slight green tint. It’s hungry, and it’s girlfriend’s name is Sandra. It’s lonely, but it knows it will see better days once the winter passes.”

Friend: “Nevermind. I get it. I. Get. It.”

—

Product: Gravity Defyer Trampoline Shoe (GDefy for short, obvi)

Tagline: “Now you can escape the power of gravity.”

Analysis: I mean, that’s just an extremely aggressive statement. Just extremely, extremely aggressive.

—

Product: Sound-Activated Video Camera Pen

Tagline: “Perfect for collecting solid evidence that requires discretion.”

Analysis: Is James Bond flying coach? Are people getting so sketchy that they’d buy a $179 pen to see if their significant other is cheating? Here’s an easier way: ask them if they are cheating. Maybe don’t buy the $200 decoder ring pen.

—

Product: Litter Kwitter Cat Toilet Training System

Tagline: “Potty train your cat faster than most people can potty train their kids.”

Analysis: What I really enjoyed about this one (beyond the cat pissing-pissing-in-a-toilet visual and the fact that only “most” of America could potty train their kids faster than a cat, not “all”) was the use of “kw” instead of “qu”. It wasn’t like being interested in this product was enough to secure that you’d die alone…the fact that you’d buy a product that spelled the word quitter with a “kw” really puts it over the top. Like, just buy 42 cats and lock the door to your apartment and become the next episode of CSI. You’re already there, you don’t even need the product.

—

Product: The Password Vault (A small LCD electronic device that stores all of your passwords that…requires a password)

Tagli…no, you know what? No. I’m not even bothering. Let me say that again: it’s a device that stores your passwords in a small, easily losable device that requires a password. NO. NNNNO. 

—

Product: Bigfoot, the Bashful Yeti Tree Sculpture

Tagline: “If you’ve never spotted Bigfoot, perhaps it’s just because he’s been hiding behind the nearest tree!”

Analysis: I mean. I’d make fun. But let’s be real…I came real close to buying this, but I do not have “a tree”, let alone many that would require the phrase “nearest”. There was also a Texas Armadillo Beverage holder that I thought was ridiculous. I love that I drew the line there.

—

Product: Bigfoot, the Garden Yeti Statue. (Different company makes this one.) (!!)

Tagline: “…guests will be doing a double-take as they admire your creative home or garden style!”

Analysis: Who cares about the writing: I’m just mind blown that two different companies are competitively marketing bigfoot statues against each other in the same magazine/at all. Can you imagine if the neighbors got the statue after you had already bought the tree sculpture?

Husband: “Did you hear? Don across the street brought the Garden Yeti Statue.”

Wife: “Seriously?”

Husband: “Seriously.”

(long, long pause)

Wife: “Unbelievable. Un-F*%KING BELIEVABLE.”

—

Product: The Big Pitcher (it’s a big water pitcher)

Tagline: “Water is life! Drink healthy with The Big Pitcher!”

Analysis: (golf claps) Oh I see what you did there. 

—

Product: No! No! Skin

Tagline: “No pimples in no time.”

Analysis: I get it. You wanted to say the word “no” twice to reiterate that not only would you have no pimples, you’d not have them in no time. Here’s the problem: your product is a laser that I point at my face. A robot that shoots a laser at my face. So saying “NO NO SKIN” makes me feel like I will have no..no skin. And that sorta bums me out. Maybe have a look at the ad before you just give SkyMall the green light next time. People might be reading this wrong. (No! No! Hair was available too. But I already have! have! that).

—

Product: SkyRest Travel Pillow 

Tagline: “This person is able to sleep comfortably in any seat. Can you say the same?”

Analysis: I mean, no. You know what? Wanted to argue this one, because I’m not sure who has the balls to bring this (and use it) on a plane. But you’re right, SkyRest. Your threatening tone is right: I can’t say the same. +1 for terror pillow marketing.

–

It’s a competitive job market out there for writers. I imagine there will be plenty of times I live in fear in between jobs, no doubt.

But hey, let’s face it…

I can probably always write for SkyMall.

Probably always.

Rocket Shoes Mixtape 57: Songs That You Can Enjoy With Any Backyard Bigfoot Statue

Stream the whole thing at the link above (or by clicking on the picture with the SkyMall magazine in it that you would probably be reading if you were on an airplane).

Or.

Download the entire thing in adorable little MP3′s right here.

If I were a cop, I’d just park across the street from a KFC/Taco Bell every night. I mean, it’s gotta be a 100% arrest rate when people drive out of the drive-thru, right? Anyone buying an actual bucket of chicken or a sandwich with two pieces of fried chicken used as the bread are on drugs 1,976% of the time. If you are a policeman and you are reading this, congratulations. I just got you promoted to a job where you don’t have to sit outside of a KFC/Taco Bell arresting people.

I am confused by people who sign up to be urologists for a living. Look. I’m just sayin’. I don’t know how much the money differential is, but I’m guessing it’s a lot or most of these guys are closeted, because I have one and even I would argue that I don’t really want to look at penises for a living. Like, you had a choice. Of ANY body part, and you said, “Penises. I choose to look at Penises for a living.” Really? Were the check boxes like this?

YOUR CHOICES:

Face Doctor – 200k w/ benefits.

Foot Doctor – 300k w/ benefits, because feet are weird.

Penis Doctor – 1 BILLION DOLLARS. ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY YOU WANT. SERIOUSLY. YOU’RE GOING TO LOOK AT PENISES ALL DAY.

*My favorite part about writing this…when I did about two months ago…was finding out approximately one week later that my cousin Laura is a urologist. I’m sorry Laura. I’m a dick. HEY-O!

I have a pediatric electrolyte supplement drinking problem. You should read that back, but out loud this time. It turns out it’s a killer way to cure a hangover. The only catch is that you’re drinking something that a baby drinks when it has diarrhea. So, you can imagine how that conversation is when you ask a Walgreen’s employee where the baby formula aisle is with no baby in sight. Or what it looks like when you are feverishly pounding a bottle of grape on your way to work and people in other cars are looking at you. Ready for this? I now even eat the FREEZER POPS that they sell, because that’s not weird. But hey, guess what: I’m hydrated, motherf*cker. What are you?

I don’t understand how people design traffic light systems. It just seems like it would be really complicated. I know, because in Sim City I was terrible at it and it had to be the most stressful thing in the world when my not real people were getting in not real traffic jams that were making them late for their not real home lives, which presumably caused them to get not real divorced and THAT’S ON ME AND I LIVE WITH IT EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Oh, Republicans. You guys had it so easy in the coming election year. I say that because America is generally batshit crazy and I just figured that they wouldn’t be cool with having a black guy as our president for more than four years before they had a “THE CIVIL WAR ISN’T OVER” panic attack. To be fair, it sort of still sounds like that’s happening. And in that instance, it seems like to win the hearts of your batshit crazy cohorts, all you had to do was nominate two “not black guys” and…no, you know what? You honestly had to just nominate anyone who didn’t sound like they had been drinking all morning before they started filming things and you probably would have had the next President elect. But you sure found a way to…not do that. Your current nominee options are Rick Perry, Mitt Romney and Newt Gingrich. So basically:

1) The only guy in Texas who manages to make George Bush look like a Rhodes Scholar.

2) A crazy Mormon who believes in magical underpants. (!!)

and

3) ….Newt Gingrich. Who I’m pretty sure has been running for president since 1848. (Probably not gonna happen, big guy. Maybe sit this one out.)

What’s even more amazing is that you ruled out one other guy because he was quoting Pokemon in his speeches. (!!!)

So, in advance, may I say thank you from every Democrat. We’re running against the equivalent of mouth breathers in sweatpants with weird mustard stains in the corner of their lips. Things are looking up.

There are too many toothpaste options these days, and my neurotic brain can’t handle it. 

Toothpaste Brand: “Do you want whitening?”

Drew: “Sure.”

Toothpaste Brand: “Do you want tartar control?”

Drew: “I mean, I’d assume so, sure…you guys are the experts.”

Toothpaste Brand: “Do you want extra whitening?”

Drew: “…well, sure. Why didn’t you just put the ‘extra’ in the last batch..”

Toothpaste Brand: “3-D whitening?”

Drew: “Wait, what?”

Toothpaste Brand: “How about cavity protection.”

Drew: “Dude, what the f*ck. Why wasn’t I getting that before?”

Toothpaste Brand: “How about an extreme clean?”

Drew: “…”

Then again, I guess I’ve never been able to make up my mind about this. Ever.

Rocket Shoes Mixtape 56: A Mix For Cops To Listen To Outside of a KFC/Taco Bell

Stream the whole thing at the link above (or by clicking on the picture with too much toothpaste in it).

Or.

Download the entire thing in adorable little MP3′s right here.

Dude, I got so sober last night.

Ridic. Like, shit went off. Were you even there? At Trader Joes? I can’t even remember man, I was so sober, just buying lentils and shit. At one point I think I was grabbing affordable chicken breasts marinated in balsamic and rosemary and totally eating handfuls of those everything pretzel chips, straight out the bag, yo. At one point I saw people throwing those pretzel nuggets with the peanut butter in them in the air. No dude, seriously, girls were catching them in their mouths. I tried to snap a pic , but then I got caught up looking at those sweet sunrise pics I took at the beach the other day when I went for an early run. I dropped a Brannan filter on that shit, dude. You should see it. Light flares were everywhere, I was tweetin’ like, “Look at how sober I am on a Saturday, yo!” I sure wish I had those chicks eating the pretzels now though, man. That was hot.

We went to get tapas at around four o’clock that day, dude. I was like, “WHERE THEM SMALL PLATES AT? Don’t skimp on the Tuna Tartare, I’ll send it back if their aren’t at least four wonton crackers carefully balanced between those cubes of freshly caught ahi, motherfucker.” When the waiter was like, “you guys want still or sparkling?” I was like, “oh hell no, bring that stuff with bubbles, man. We’re getting straight sober tonight.”

I left for a bit to hit a spin class. Yeah, just to get a little cardio in so I could get good, restful sleep that night and not feel bad about my caloric intake from all those tapas. Some people have been doing that hard shit. Pilates and that Bikram, yo. But I dunno, I’ve got an addictive personality, and I don’t want people judging. Anyway, I get pretty high off a good spin class, so no need to overdo it.

Yeah, I’m so awake today, dude. I haven’t been this awake since that last time we got all sober on that one Wednesday. Yeah, man, remember that? That one in April? You came home at a moderate hour and were like, “man, I might catch up on my DVR tonight.” And then I was all, “cool, I’m pretty tired and might just fall asleep about three quarters of the way into a documentary on Netflix.” We got crazy sober that night and were like, “NEVER again!” Guess what? BOOM. Blew that one.

I know, I know. I’m thinking of slowing down, don’t worry. It’s just like, it’s always “I just gotta get one thing at Target” or “I’m totally out of t-shirts and gotta do laundry and they shut off the dryer at 9pm.” And then before you know it, i’m all crazy sober again talking about training for a half marathon with four other sober people. I sorta wonder if everyone at work notices when I get in all early.

I can stop whenever I want though. It’s not like a problem. I could seriously go out tonight and get drunk. But like, I don’t want to, you know? Like, whatever: I wanna send out massive amounts of network invitations on LinkedIn tonight, so what. I’m almost 30 and it’s like, this is what I’m into. If you aren’t, you know…no big deal. You live your life and I’ll live mine. I hate people who are all judgmental.

Anyway, I gotta run. This girl I just started seeing hasn’t seen a single episode of Friday Night Lights and I was like WHAAAT. We have GOT to get all sober and watch that on your couch! I’m just happy I finally met someone as wild as I am. Can you imagine the crazy sleep we’re gonna get together?

The other day I was talking to my friend Lesley on the subject of how other people are doing that we haven’t spoken to in a while.

By that, I mean we were casually judging the shit out of people’s lives that we:

- Don’t know that well anymore.

- Never knew that well to begin with.

- Actually do not know. Are we friends with them on Facebook? Of course. But we are in no way friends in real life with them because we share absolutely nothing in common besides a casual like of television. Or eating (which are amazing things to be able to “like” on Facebook, ps).

But that’s my point: we were sitting there talking about people’s lives as we know them to be, entirely based upon facts we’d gleamed from reading their Facebook status updates and monitoring the crap they hit “like” for on the internet. Which is the equivalent to deciding whether a baby is doing well or not based on what he made a noise at that day. Spoiler alert: presumably everything.

Which brings me to the amazing portion of the conversation.

Drew: “Have you seen (name of person I am judging) lately? He seems to be doing really well.”

Lesley: “Oh, you’ve talked to him recently?”

Drew: “No. But I saw him standing in front of an expensive home with a nice car and a girl with fake boobs. So, you know. Did the math there.”

Lesley: “Yeah but, who puts shit on Facebook that’s actually happening in their life? If you did, it would be wildly hilarious, or depressing.”

Yes, Lesley. Yes it would.

So I began to think about a world where people actually wrote on Facebook and took the statement, “What’s on your mind?” a bit more…literally.

And these are the funny things I think people would actually say if they were telling the truth on Facbeook.

“Today was pretty great! Went for a run and thought about my ex-girlfriend the entire time and the guy she’s probably sleeping with! I feel great, physically, but mentally I’m a total trainwreck!”

“Sarah is attending ‘Tara’s 31st Part-ay’ on November 6th. She has no idea why, she fucking hates Tara. But, I dunno. Other people are going and she doesn’t want to look like a bitch.”

“Drank an entire bottle of wine last night. Woke up borderline worried I’m an alcoholic.”

“I just made weird faces in the mirror for no apparent reason.”

“I don’t know the capital of Montana.”

“I just paid too much rent for my apartment that I can’t afford again. Tonight I will go to bed terrified of things like bills and whether or not I’m on a good enough life trajectory.”

“I just cried.”

“Just spent a good portion of the night stalking that one girl I saw the other day. I feel a little weird about it. But at least now I know her favorite movie is Weekend at Bernies. Which, to be fair, surprised me a little.”

“Just read my ex’s Facebook wall for about 20 minutes. Who the fuck is Paul? Why is he writing all over her wall? Also: if you want to check out his profile, he always takes out of focus pictures and he’s not funny. I can’t believe she’s dating this douche. (Jenny, if you’re reading this…this is the guy you’re dating now? Are you dating Paul?)”

“I just had an awkward conversation with my boyfriend about moving in together. We fought. So now I’m posting a funny inside joke on his wall that will detract from the conversation that I will bring up again in about a week when I’m drunk and we’re out with friends!”

“I just liked…I mean you know what, I have no idea why I just liked that. Wait, that shit showed up on my newsfeed?”

“Just posted a really great picture of myself someone took two years ago as my profile picture! I never look like that, i’m actually much heavier these days!”

“I just searched ‘male pajama onesie’ on Google. To detract from that, here’s a picture of me without my shirt on looking masculine.”

“I wonder if I’ll be alone forever! LOVE YOU, GIRLS, SAT NIGHT WAS TOTES FUN!!”

“I have diarrhea. It’s pretty terrible.”

“I just liked a photo on my friend’s wall. But only because there was a hot girl in it, and I wonder if she saw that I liked it and then checked me out. Probably not. Mike, are you dating that chick? I mean, if not. Just sayin’.”

“I just watched an entire season of The Wire in one sitting. I haven’t showered yet today. I smell terrible.”

“I just went to the bathroom.”

“I am now friends with your friend Jenny. Because I slept with her after the party last night, so logically, now we’re Facebook friends, in a roundabout way of letting everyone know that yes, we’re sort of into each other or at least had relations.”

“I haven’t gone outside yet today. I have no itention to.”

“I went to a fancy restaurant with a one word name so I could tell people about it later!”

“I just played the song ‘A Milli’ by Lil Wayne over and over again until I memorized that one really hard line that I could never get, so that the next time it plays at a party, I’ll know it and recite it and people will notice and be impressed with me.”

“I am searching random diseases I may have on WebMD right now, because I’m neurotic. Oh, and it’s a Saturday night.”

“I just searched ‘Kim Kardashian’ sex tape. For no apparent reason. I’m surprised at how easy that was to find.”

“I just talked to my dog. Like he was a person. I’m home alone.”

So.

You know.

I basically just explained Twitter.

Rocket Shoes Mixtape 55: Unicorns Aren’t Real, Just Like People’s Emotions on Facebook.

Stream the whole thing at the link above.

Or.

Download the entire thing in adorable little MP3′s right here.

Dear Guy/Girl in the Costume on October 20th,

Hey! What’s up? Where you headed to? I only ask because you’re wearing a slutty maid costume and it’s a Thursday evening around the middle of October. What’s that? A Halloween party?

Oh. That’s Weird. Because Halloween isn’t for another week.

You’re not alone. I saw on my way over here:

- Three guys wearing a makeshift Gosling-From-Drive costume.

- 1,829 Charlie Sheen “Costumes.”

- A girl who was wearing a “costume”, but I think she just bought a bunch of spandex and a headband.

- Wayne and Garth (to be fair, this one was pretty good)

So maybe I missed it but…isn’t Halloween this week? And if so, why are we all wearing costumes a week before?

Look. I get it, we’re all excited. Hell, when I was a kid? I had a “bucket of swords” and couldn’t leave the house without grabbing one. I also wore a cape pretty much every day, but I suppose that’s another issue.

The thing is, the phrase there that should stick out is “when I was a kid.”

I’m asking as a favor: please stop jumping the shark. Or else the world is just going to collectively become one big Burning Man event…and lord knows we’re all terrified as fuck of that.

This terrifies me. People are going to start opening Christmas presents in October. Pumpkin Spiced Latte’s will be served in May (throwing off the entire female space-time-pumpkin-spice-latte continuum). We’ll start having fourteen new years eve’s…which we sort of do anyway, because it involves “drinking at midnight.” So there’s that.

There are a few people who are allowed to be in costume anytime they’d like. Those people are, as follows:

- Strippers (their costume is “sadness”, mainly)

- Old People (because old people are sort of accidental costumes…think about it.)

- Homeless People (another accidental costume)

- Firemen

- Anyone who works at Hot Dog on a Stick.

But the problem is: you’re ruining it for everyone. Just have a little patience. You’ll get that day. And when it comes? Slut it up. Be a children’s sized super-hero costume. Be whatever your little heart desires.

But it’s not Halloween on October 20th. Knock that shit off.

Love,

Drew