Sometimes people who read my blog will ask me questions. I will try to start answering the questions that people ask me on here. For instance I was asked by my friends after they saw me talk about the house party what is some of the good music I would recommend. To start off, I heard this new voice on the radio that sounds like Feist. Feist is one of my all time favorites, but this other girl is not too bad, as far as "mainstream" stuff goes.

Sara Barreilles is 25 and has another album called "Careful Confessions" and it is pretty much slept on. You should buy her new album off of iTunes it's called "Little Voice." Her new single is on the radio sometime, but I don't know how because she's talking to the music industry and how she won't be confined to just write love songs. I think she looks like a girl who I would like to meet on JDate. I bet she's not actually Jewish but I am not either. Oh, well. I'll think of some more good music later and also answer more questions I've received.



Lil' Mama, 50 Cent, and The All-American Rejects were played add nauseous at this lame house party I went to. My friends dragged me with them to Jeff's house in Philly's version of "The Hills." Guess what Lil' Mama, 50 Cent, and The All-American rejects have in common? I hate them all. People seriously don't listen to good music anymore. I really wanted to put my iPod on "Party Shuffle" and plug it in to the stereo system so I could show them what's good. Whatever happened to the days when people weren't trying to pretend to be something else? None of these kids were black, ghetto, or had any reasons to be sad. The only person who had any real problems was this guy Mike who was mildly mentally handicapped. And you know what? He was the coolest guy there.

It's tricky

He was really nice and I could have a coherent conversation without a lot of slang or posturing. Most importantly, he wasn't trying to be ironic. I hate hipsters. You might say I kind of am like a hipster because I like stuff like 'Juno' but hey I just like what I like. I don't care. Anyway I was telling Mike (who probably is only just a little mentally handicapped) about my job at the Chamber and how I like to go to my friend's warehouse club on the weekends and he was showing me some dance moves. Some girls kind of laughed or smiled but I know they had to have been genuinely smiling when Run DMC's 'It's Tricky' came on. Me and Mike looked at each other and we both went "aaaaaww yeah!" at the same time. Now THAT'S a good rap song. Something stupid came on after that but while it played, the party was pretty fun.



Love is a jolt. Thankfully it's not lightning because then it would only strike once and when you see it you have to count until you hear it and then divide that by five. Some other tips I know are that when you lose your car keys, you should re-trace your steps. This is so true. Over the course of this week, I have been betting that I can re-find love by following my ex-girlfriend's steps. She likes Mummers Museum (boring), both Starbucks on Baltimore Pike, and shopping for groceries every other Tuesday of the month. The only one of these I've really incorporated into my routine is getting coffee at Starbucks in the mornings before work. It's not one of the ones on Baltimore Pike, but close.

Guess what? I think I have found love again. I didn't find my keys but maybe I found somebody else's that will fit my lock. Who knows! Love is a great and many-splendored thing. Love is a barista named Julie and Julie is sehr gut meine freund! That means she is "very good and funny." Julie says something witty to me every morning. It's like, I don't even need to buy a paper anymore because Julie is Dilbert meets Cathy and is a babe. This morning I felt extra out of it so I asked for a double shot. How did she respond? "Okay. Come closer so I can HIT you!"


When she said that, I'll admit it: I felt warm.






Today, Mr. Wiggington, one of the "higher-ups," got engaged and decided the whole Chamber should go to Barclay Prime, this restaurant half a mile down the street. Most of us went just to get out of the office, and only half of us ate anything substantial because of the cost. Anyway, Mr. Wiggington (the fiancé) and all his friends got these $100 dollar Kobe cheese steaks and all my other co-workers were SO AMAZED. It's just a regular cheese steak!, except they use Kobe beef, which is actually pretty cool. But this is in addition to weird cheese and other unnecessary ingredients like truffles and goose livers (gross & grossest).

Not worth $100.

Here's my beef with the thing: A.) It's stupid, B.) It sounds nasty, and C.) It's expensiveness is fraudulent. Most of the expense is for the bottle of champagne it's served with. What if McDonald's started selling $100 dollar Big Mac burgers served with ketchup made of gold? Whatever. Congratulations to Mr. Wiggington, and I hope he got his wife a really big ring or else she's going to be pissed that he loves sandwiches the most.

Not made with gold.

What else is happening in Greater Philly tonight...

Well, my friend Travis
is taking this psychology class which he's been trying to "use" on me. Travis is the one whose dad bought him a club. I think the only thing he's learned about so far is the Oedipus complex, and I think he learned that from Wikipedia. I would have made a good rebuttal but I lost all my words when he tried saying that my misery stemmed from how similar my ex-girlfriend and my mom were.

Gross. And wrong.

The only thing my mother and ex-girlfiend have in common are their gold ankh medallions.



Before we get started, I have to tell you this story really quick about a fly that got in my apartment just now. I was laying on my bed talking to my mom about something grammy said to her, and this dumb fly just kept buzzing around the ceiling. My mom stopped her story five times to ask if I was okay because apparently I was making a "noise" every time I swatted at this PEST. I told her I was fine--there's just this dumb bug in my room that doesn't know how to do anything. It just kept flying into the mirror over and over. My bedroom is really quiet, so I put the phone up and my mom said she could hear it!

When I was younger, before middle school started, we used to have grill-outs on the 4th of July. Once, my dad was carrying in a big plate of burgers and franks from the patio and walked right into the sliding-glass door and everything fell! So that's what me and mom were laughing about tonight. My dad only made that mistake once, not like this stupid fly. Even if I was as dumb as a fly, I still can't see myself running into the same wall over and over again. I even jokingly said, "Hey, FLY. Stop that, you dummy. Go the OTHER WAY!"

On to more important business...

Dang it, I can't even remember exactly what I was going to blog about. Let's see, well, Control (the new Joy Division movie) should be coming here pretty soon, work was fine today and, oh yeah, my ex-girlfriend still hasn't called me back. I'm not even sure what to do at this point, whether I should just keep calling or try and forget about her. I'm afraid if I forget, then she'll definitely forget. I hope she never forgets; I won't. I can't.

Rest in Peace, asshole.



Readers: You may have noted I've been gone for about a month. Well, I've just been riding on a one way ticket to love and back. I finally met a girl on OK Cupid who was compatible with me, who also liked me enough to go on a date with me. We actually went on a bunch of dates and it was "bananas" as one might say, undoubtedly. It was probably better than seeing New Order live or when my parents decided not to split, but that would be like comparing apples and PCs. She liked scary movies, was a double major in psychology and US politics, and had a symmetrical face like Denzel Washington's.

Anyway, you can guess that she eventually broke it off. I am now having a hard time getting over my girlfriend. My friends said that me calling her my girlfriend was what pushed her away, but I don't think that's true, for two reasons:

1.) Girls like guys who are committed.

2.) She said she didn't have the time that I deserved.

In a way, I have to be happy because, obviously, I was too special and she was mature enough to know it. I think she'll come back some day. I mean, I hope.