Confessions of a single man.

1. I don’t know, with confidence, where I keep spare toilet paper in the house.

2. Dishes are only done when something is needed.

3. Groceries are purchased based on how it’ll taste with vodka.

4. Restocking the liquor cabinet is a part of grocery shopping.

5. Potato chips are a vegetable.

6. The sound my vacuum makes surprises me every time I use it.

7. At home, clothes are barely optional.

8. Preshower helicopter. You either know what this is or you don’t.

9. I have three drawers to stuff shit in when I’m expecting a bedroom guest.

10. The mattress flip is the 11th commandment.

11. Every towel in the house has a purpose. There’s no such thing as extra towels.

12. Cold pizza is a breakfast food.

13. Grandma be knowin.

14. I might as well be dating my car. She’s so high maintenanced.

15. On weekends, I’ll brush my teeth if I’m leaving the house.

16. Showers are more recreational than functional.

17. Cooking dinner for one is tricky.

18. My apartment is either really clean or really, really dirty.

19. Waking up somewhere other than your bedroom is totally acceptable.

20. Most people would pay for the still quietness I can conjure up in my apartment.


Slop Blog

I love pop culture. As trashy as it can be, and has been recently, I try to follow as much of it as I can. You can learn a lot from that shit. One of my biggest inspirations, my petrona even, is one Mr. Kanye Amari West Kardashian. He’s been out here stirring the shit pot and I live for it. He’s hitting the road on tour soon and apparently people are protesting his performance, even signing petitions preventing him from performing at venues. I take issue and offense to this shit. Here me out. Kanye West is an asshole. The leader of the free world called it. Hell Jayoncé has even alluded to it. Its facts. I don’t recall, however, Mr. West fucking with anyone’s ability to accumulate coins. Not once has he single-handedly ripped someone’s check up. Let’s recall the Taylor Swift incident. That young lady was receiving an award for Best Album that year. The record sold millions. He stood up, stated his little dusty ass opinion, and sat back down. No harm, no foul in my book (I’m just glad he will never pull that shit with me). This little girl is out here selling more of these frisbees, singing more of these Disney tracks, and even (by some fucked up wonder) becoming an ambassador to NYC. I won’t go further into my opinion on that last fact. He did what he did, said what he said, and Ms. Swift is swiftly collecting checks. Her bank account is seemingly unbothered. Beck, whatever the hell that is, also “suffered” the wrath of Kanye publicly while accepting an award. I will leave the fact that I didn’t know what a Beck was prior this incident out of it. Kanye merely attempted the mic grab and then re-nigged only to follow it up with some shit about “respecting the artistry” and “Beyoncé’s got the best snatch…” whatever. Like Taylor, Beck handled his public humiliation charmingly, made his little speech, went home, and continued to deposit checks. At no point was his coin in danger due to Kanye West’s overbearing assholeness. Kanye has ripped into a few other people and companies in the last few years but has yet to topple any of them. I don’t even think his intention was to play in anyone’s checking account. So why, then, do people think it is okay to draft and sign petitions to ban Kanye from playing venues? I don’t give a shit about freedoms and inalienable rights. You have the freedom and inalienable right to stay your ass at home the night of his show. When you play games like that because you let your ego and pride get in the way of your common sense perception you are playing with people’s money. At the end of the day, Kanye West is a performer. When you do shit like that you are taking food out of his family’s mouth. I know how much of a stretch that is considering he’s made millions over the past few years and is married to a Kardashian, but still. It’s the principle. You don’t like his stance or opinion on things? Don’t like the way he goes about delivering said stance and opinion? Rather not hear or see from Kanye again? Just stay your ass at home when he goes on tour and off of iTunes when he drops records? Simple as that. No need to block his blessings of headlining Glastonbury or O2 or whatever arena he’s set to play. As much as Kanye West doesn’t like you, and he probably doesn’t, I’m pretty sure he’d stick to just talking about you into whatever microphone he can find. He wouldn’t show up to whatever department store you clock in at with a petition to keep you from showing up. You know why? That’s fucking with your livelihood. His, or no one’s for that matter, opinions will never fuck with your livelihood. They may hurt your feelings but your pocket book will go untouched. If anything, that bank account may see some gains.

The short and skinny: Bash these rich bitches in your blogs and Facebook statuses and then take your ass to work. Don’t be out here mucking in people’s money because your feelings are hurt on behalf of someone else. That don’t make no damn sense and you’re just being a dream killer. No one likes a dream killer.

My other, other love. 

For the duration of this site I have dumped random thoughts, photos, and ideas with no real direction. That won’t change anytime soon so don’t get your hopes up. I do intend, however, to start posting men’s fashion and style tips and tricks that I know and use. It is one of many important facets in my life and I feel that style, hygiene, and overall behaviors of the millennial man deserve another voice (amongst the hundreds out there).

In this portion of my blog I’ll be discussing different products I use, routines and regiments I partake in, and different trends for the common man. We will also delve into different topics related to healthy day-to-day living and pretty much how to coast smoothly into our 30s.

This won’t be spoken from a professional. This will just be a conversation on tried and true experiences that have, or haven’t worked, for me. It’ll be fun, I promise!

This blog will be sort of a Russian nesting doll until I get my shit together, so please bare with me.

Keep Your Millions 

While perusing Facebook before bed, like any good millennial, I came across the picture below. (Please notice, I left the watermark of whoever came up with thi ls shit. I don’t want the credit at all.)  


“Could you do this?!” the post asks. Could I do it?! I would do this shit for a year’s supply of Chipotle. I would kick this bet’s ass for three month’s worth of Lime-A-Rita’s and Slim Jims. Are you fucking kidding me? I’d willfully untether myself from the bullshit that phones, social media, and the Internet at large propagate. Without any real statistical knowledge, I think it’s safe to say that 75% percent of the “people” I interact with on a daily basis I wouldn’t be caught dead with in real life. This is whether I know them or not. Another 10% of that I don’t know and will probably never meet, namely because I don’t care to. I’d pay $3 million to go three months without being reachable. I’d love to say that I’ve only come in contact with people because honest efforts were made. 

Call me misanthropic, but I think that’s what’s gone awry with society and specifically my generation and the one after. At this point, it’s cliched but we really spend little time interacting with each other on a face to face level and I do feel it’s somehow disconnecting us with reality. We are all living in this metaphysical bubble of 140 characters and memes. It’s so scary, it’s funny. I am not without flaws and anytime I come up with something witty I all but shit myself trying to get it on Facebook. I, too, am the problem.   

At any rate, I think it’s important for our own sanity to detach ourselves every now and then. I know it’s hard to deal with people face to face but if it’s a choice, it shouldn’t be a punishment. I think. 

So, No Shit…

Since I’ve come into adult hood I’ve realized that when it’s time to sleep, I’m too damn tired to even try to be vigilant of any post REM dreams that may be happening. I just can’t give a shit. There’s this one dream nightmare, though, that has stuck with me for a few weeks now. It’s got some holes in it as I try to recant it, but the gist is apparent.

I’m at a wedding. Not sure if it’s mine or I’m just an innocent bystander to this nonsense but it’s outside and everyone’s in white. Freaked me the hell out too. I feel like I was just a guest because I’m sitting in the audience on one of those white faux wood folding chair things that I could only imagine exist for such occasions. Where we are in the wedding, at this point, is unclear but the atmosphere seems innocent enough; there’s quiet banter, a live orchestra/band is playing, people are roaming about the yard. I guess from that description we can infer that we are in the midst of reception. Whatever, here comes the good shit.

I’m pretty sure my dream-self wasn’t sitting there waiting for middle earth to explode and a war of the worlds to unfold but that’s exactly what happened. One second, it’s a bright and serene setting and the next it’s a clash of the fucking titans as these Congolese war lords climb out of topiary and instantly start going ape shit with their battle axes and sabers. I kid you not, it was a scene from Hotel Rwanda and Wedding Crashers. The skies were blood-red and stricken with smoke from where ever the hell bombs came from. The canopy was tattered and flailing in the wind. There was blood everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I am in a full-fledged fight for my life.

At this point, it gets pretty vague and blurry. I’m pretty sure a minotaur made an appearance. Most of what I remember here involved me in a hand to hand situation with the biggest, ugliest humanoid I’d ever seen. Being that I live in New York, it’s safe to judge real life meetings, as well as in my dreams. This is about the time that I wake up in a WTF, panicked, “oh shit I’m late for work” moment.

Again, I’m not one to relish on my dreams and determine what they mean and if they have some existential effect on my life. I just thought that the one that continues to haunt me is some Sci-Fi bullshit that is so far removed from the person that I am. Why can’t I be haunted by Beyoncé?