• re: This American Life #361: Fear of Sleep

Luckily, for me, when I downloaded the newest This American Life podcast, I was focused on something else and didn’t listen to it whilst in bed or before I fell asleep.

If I had, I think I might have been institutionalized. Now, you must be thinking I’m talking with much more hyperbole than usual, which I’d give a slight agreement to, but I have to say that during the 2nd or 3rd act, the one in which they talk about bed bugs, I was so happy that I was awake and walking on the street.

I repeat, detailed history of life with bed bugs. Which infest your books, your bed, your sheets, your everything. You can see into their stomaches? Stuff I would have been stupid to have heard at the ungodly hour of whenever I go to bed O’Clock.

It’s awesome, though. Check it.


• Sweet Lord, The New Murs and 9th Wonder, Sweet Lord, is Free.

Murs himself went onto them YouTubes to say something like, so him and 9th are giving us Sweet Lord for free as long as we support his next record Murs For President and future Murs and 9th collabos to be sold for money.

And he even admits that people will steal that record too, in the video on their site, http://www.mursand9thwonder.com/, but hey, I’m gonna be buying that record and you should too. Not that I’m going to be making a pay pal donation like the website suggests. That’s kind of foolish, if you remember when Homer went to a museum with Lisa, you know how few people are going to do a pay pal support. Maybe I will after finishing and liking the record. I don’t know. Will I brag about doing so on here if I do? Probably.

With A Passion, often, means Without Shame.

Rising from the blogging ashes.

So you might have wondered if I’ve been “surviving” the ordeal previously mentioned. Not only have I been surviving, I’ve been surviving with flying colors. If you had guessed any of the following happened, you’re right:

Savoring Elote’s brunch specials as frequently as humanly possible. Also: debating as to when breakfast ends and when brunch begins.

Learning the merits of depositing a check with a bank teller as opposed to an ATM.

Learning that even non-members have fun at the Bushwick Country Club. The Other BCC.

Blaring Made in the Dark by Hot Chip and being pleasantly surprised by Mark Ronson & Rhymefest’s “Man in the Mirror” mixtape (Google it).

Becoming more and more apathetic about the Knicks, until I saw this glimmer of hope on Deadspin.

Coming up with two viable book ideas that I’m not sharing here.

Watching Matt Taibbi’s appearances on writer-less The ColberT ReporT and Real Time with Bill Maher allow me to fall deeper into admiration for the most entertaining political beat journalist I know of.

Analyzing the first two episodes of The Wire, looking for clues and off glances. Furthermore, learning from Dave that Newsweek might have spoiled the damn ending of the series. Also, buying the aforementioned soundtrack.

Stocking my desk at work with carrots and celery to sustain myself during the apocalypse of work previously mentioned.

Stocking the fridge with the Delerium and the Magic Hat Winter Mix 12-pack. It’s called Odd Nation, and it’s amazing.

Dying a little on the inside when the Jaguars lost the momentum in the 3rd quarter last night.

But what kept me insane throughout all of this was a book that I’ve been working on at my office, working on it since before Thanksgiving.

The current round of the book ended on Friday. I arrived at the typical hour of 9 AM and left at the far far from typical, self-record breaking hour of 11 PM.

I, your humble blogger, bleary eyed and tweaked, alone in the office, way after the janitorial staff came through in the clutch. I pitched a fucking Valiant 9th Inning, and beyond. Extra innings, into the mid-teens. The kind of production I was hoping I’d see one day out of Joba.

But since we might never get him as the Ace Reliever we all wanted, I’ll say it was late nineties Mariano Rivera-esque. And by the time I was done, I sent an e-mail that sounded something to the effect of: … well, I’m not going to post it. Let’s just say that if you put a PS in, you should have something after the actual “P.S.”

Last night I saw Meera off, hanging out with her, her cool boyfriend Max, and their grad school friends at this bar called Sheep Station. It’s bad enough to lose a favorite co-worker, but to lose them to Boston? God Damn. I told her I’d send her a Yankees cap, so she’ll be a non-white Yankees attire-wearer in Boston, making her the most popular person since Paul Revere. Jessica (and Cliff), yes, if you’re reading this, I know Boston’s better than it used to be, I couldn’t resist that joke, and it was actually said out loud last night.

But as one person leaves, another appears. Lee, my newest coworker, is cool, and has a great design/architecture blog.

And now, the Giants game is on, go G-MEN!

MotherFuckingAngry is my Middle Name

Apparently, my postal worker doesn’t give a shit about quality of service.

1. Something you might not know is that I take my magazines very seriously. Too seriously, I’m sure. But when the Brooklyn Postal Service continues to shit in my face and smile while they poo, I’m not really going to take it lying down anymore. Today, I got my copy of Fader’s 50th Issue “Solid Gold”* spectacular, and the upper left hand corners were shredded to shit (see above). I’m so tired of shitty mail delivery that I think I might buy one of those year-round mail boxes at a UPS or some such location. This will not eliminate all of the distance from the printer to my feverish eyes, but at least I’ve cut out the kindergarten dropouts called post office employees. For once, taking things to the private sector might be a good idea.

2. More to be angry about: Oh Word’s own Rafi Kam has thrown his 2 cents into the debate over Facebook’s new Beacon technology. Facebook is taking another step in becoming the big brother asshole that we all pretty much think that prick Zuckerberg would become. He must feel so superior, to be a drop out pulling the wool over the eyes of so many students and grads who didn’t want to throw away their parents’ money.

3. Even more: Amazon’s Kindle. It looks like ass, is anti-sharing, and renders the text of the book the way Ann Coulter renders her worthless opinion: in a fugly manner that makes me want to smash the both of them against a big brick wall. Chip Kidd (a god in the graphic design world, and rightfully so) has given a brief FuckOff to it, right here. Except that he’s more tactful than I am (unlike the balloon quote he wrote in my copy of Uncovered).

4. Mick Huckabee, along with his current state at the top of the Iowa caucus, is snowballinglly** retarded. What’s even more depressing is the endorsement he just got from Jerry Falwell Jr.; a dumbass of the greatest degree who’s fallen about as close to the tree as Hank “My Favorite Actress is Jennifer Love Hewitt”*** Steinbrenner.

5. It sucks to be a Knicks fan, and it must suck even more to be a Knicks beat writer.

Things to be happy about had to exist, so I hid them down here:

6. It it weren’t for his turns as a member of Thugnificent’s crew on The Boondocks, I’d have completely written Busta Rhymes off. Thankfully, he’s helped MC and helm a mix tape in tribute to J. Dilla that is honestly really great. Busta made a good album. I know, I don’t know what will happen next either. It’s free, here, at http://www.mickboogie.com/

7. Tina Fey is optimistic that the writer’s strike will end in a week or so. I don’t know if she’ll be right, but I really fucking hope that things work out for the guild.

8. And something that really got some glee out of yours truly: two minutes from the Hot Chip song “Ready For The Floor” which will be off their next LP, Made in the Dark. Ho these guys look so stereotypically hipstery and can actually be talented surprises even yours truly, currently living in Williamsburg and hating almost everyone there.

*No, I’m not kidding, “Solid Gold” is the “name” of the issue. Also, chalk up the second copy to a clerical error on The Fader’s part.

**See Clerks and look up the word Momentum.

***Quoting a New York Post interview, which I would never link to:

“Q: We see you in the newspaper with a cigarette in your mouth.
A: It’s not a good example for kids. It’s something I need to quit soon. My children are starting to get concerned and are trying to get me to quit.
Q: How much do you smoke?
A: About a pack a day.
Q: Three dinner guests?
A: Napoleon; Einstein; Mozart.
Q: Favorite movie?
A: “The Magnificent Seven.”
Q: Favorite actor?
A: Steve McQueen.
Q: Favorite actress?
A: Jennifer Love Hewitt.”