October 2, 2013 · 12:38 pm
I don’t like being bored. I always need to be doing something that stimulates my brain. I like reading. I like writing. I like watching TV and movies and listening to music. But sometimes I can’t do anything but count the holes on the ceiling. I just got back from the dentist and had to lie on my back for forty-five minutes while they poked and prodded and polished my teeth. Counting the holes in the ceiling was the only thing that I could do to keep from going crazy. You don’t want to actually count each individual hole, that will take forever. Start with one ceiling tile and count the number of holes in the first row and the first column, then multiply those numbers together and you will end up with the amount of holes per tile. Then you simply have to count all the tiles and multiply it by the amount of holes in one tile. The hard part is doing this all in your head and not losing track. It’s hard to do math without any paper or a calculator. You actually have to think. Even if you do succeed, it’s a hollow victory. Nobody cares how many holes are on the ceiling in your dentist’s office or that you counted them yourself.
Critically Rated at 8/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
October 2, 2013 · 12:35 pm
You always have to monitor your stash to avoid being caught off guard and discovering that you only have one more nugget left in your jar. The last nugget is a scary time for a stoner. It means that you’re almost out of weed. You have to start conserving, trying to make sure that you have enough to last until you get a chance to get more. You need to start thinking about how your work schedule looks and which dealers will be available or which dispensary will be open when you finally get time to re-up. If you’re smart, you will save the biggest bud for last for this very occasion. A bigger last nugget buys you more time. But you still have to get up off your ass and get more eventually. And that’s the hardest part.
Critically Rated at 6/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
October 1, 2013 · 9:53 am
I went out to dinner a few nights ago and picked up the check with my credit card. My friends opened their wallets and threw a couple of bucks my way and then we all parted ways. I got back home and took out the cash to count it and I noticed that someone slipped in a ripped ten-dollar-bill. It was practically ripped in half, and the two pieces were barely holding together. A slight breeze could have blown it apart. I felt hurt and betrayed. I could not believe that one of my so-called friends would have the audacity to give me such a ghetto piece of legal tender. At least tape it up before you give it to me. You only have two options when you get a ripped dollar. You can go to the bank and exchange it for another bill, or you can tape it up and try to pass it on to some unsuspecting cashier. Money is supposed to be crisp, clean, and sexy. Nobody wants a tainted ripped dollar. Try to get rid of it as fast as you can and move on with your life.
Critically Rated at 5/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
October 1, 2013 · 9:51 am
A puddle is a small pool of a liquid. Most of the puddles that you encounter are rain puddles. If you have babies or puppies, you are more familiar with pee puddles. If you know my friends, you are more familiar with puddles of vomit. It was fun to splash and stomp in puddles in the rain when you were a kid, but then you grew up and realized that the world is a soulless, crushing place and now splashing in puddles doesn’t do anything for you anymore. The only joy you get from puddles these days is from watching cars drive through them and soaking old ladies walking down the sidewalk. Grandma shouldn’t be walking in the rain anyway.
Critically Rated at 9/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 30, 2013 · 9:52 am
Awkward handshakes are embarrassing. You’ll bump into a casual acquaintance on the street and you go in to greet him with a handshake as he’s trying to greet you with a fist bump. And you notice that he’s trying to fist bump so you start to make a fist, and simultaneously he sees that you’re trying to shake hands so he switches to a handshake. You both start fumbling around between a potential fist bump and a handshake, and it’s pretty obvious that you guys aren’t on the same page. Someone has to take charge and declare if the greeting will be a bump or a shake. It’s also awkward when you both go in for a handshake and then you try to follow it with a fist bump but he doesn’t catch on and he leaves you there fist bumping the air like a Jersey Shore asshole. An awkward handshake is a terrible way to begin a greeting. It can only go down from there. Just pretend like nothing happened and end the conversation by walking away. You’re not being rude, you’re just trying to save face and redeem yourself.
Critically Rated at 6/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 30, 2013 · 9:50 am
A Slim Jim is a smoked sausage stick that is similar to beef jerky. You mostly find them at gas stations and 7-Elevens. Randy “Macho Man” Savage used to be the spokesman for Slim Jim. He got paid millions of dollars and received a lifetime supply of the meat sticks. He’s dead now. Just something to think about before you buy one. If you think that hot dogs are gross, you should read the ingredients in a Slim Jim. Anyone for mechanically separated chicken? Slim Jims are alright. I normally prefer regular beef jerky, but every once in a while you feel like snapping into a Slim Jim. A little mystery meat never hurt anyone. Except for Randy “Macho Man” Savage. Did I mention that he’s dead? Because of Slim Jims?
Critically Rated at 10/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 29, 2013 · 6:18 pm
You wake up on a Wednesday but you think that it’s Thursday for some reason. You go through the whole day thinking that it’s Thursday and that tomorrow is Friday and you start planning accordingly. You start thinking about grabbing some drinks with a few friends, maybe catching a flick at the cinema. And then someone says something that snaps you back into reality, and you realize with a groan that it’s still just Wednesday and you still have a few more days until freedom. You feel confused and jumbled, like it’s an early glimpse of Alzheimer’s. Don’t stress though. Everyone ends up forgetting what day it is at some point. You should be more worried if you’re forgetting what year it is. You’re either genuinely losing it or you’re a time traveller.
Critically Rated at 8/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 29, 2013 · 6:11 pm
Kickstart by Mtn Dew is a new energy drink/soda that is a combination of Mtn Dew and fruit juice. It’s not Mountain Dew anymore… it’s Mtn Dew now. Pretty fucking extreme, right? There are two flavors available: Energizing Orange Citrus and Energizing Fruit Punch. I haven’t tried the Energizing Orange Citrus one yet, but I’m sipping on the Energizing Fruit Punch right now. It has kind of a weird taste, like watered down Mtn Dew mixed with a diet fruit punch flavored energy drink. There’s kind of an aftertaste. This is a stupid product. I don’t know why anyone would want to start off their day with a can of Mtn Dew mixed with fruit juice. This is a beverage that nobody wanted and nobody asked for. But they made it for some reason. Try it before they discontinue making it (which should be any second now).
Critically Rated at 7/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 28, 2013 · 9:52 am
Getting locked out sucks. I’m letting a friend crash on my couch because I’m a swell guy like that. I gave him my only set of keys the other night because I had to work a night shift and he was going to hang out with some friends. He said he would be home before me. I didn’t think so, but I gave it to him anyway and told him I would call him when I was done with work. Work was slow so I got cut early, sent him a text saying I was done, and jumped on my train and started heading home. I got off at my stop, called him, and he said that he was ten minutes away. Perfect, just enough time to go to the liquor store and grab some beer, snacks, and ice cream. I got my supplies and went to my house and started waiting. And waiting. And waiting. My roommates weren’t there and my friend wasn’t answering his phone. I was locked out and there was no way to get in without a key. At first I was annoyed that he was late. Then I was kind of worried that something might have happened to him. Then I noticed that my ice cream was starting to melt and I got pissed. It took all my restraint from choking his light out when he finally sauntered up to the door after an hour, mumbling his apology. Sorries don’t turn back the clock. Sorries don’t unlock doors. Sorries don’t unmelt ice cream.
Critically Rated at 5/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 28, 2013 · 12:36 am
Leffe Blonde is a Belgian Ale from Belgium. It’s also considered an Abbey Ale because it’s based on an abbey recipe that has been brewed for hundreds of years. It has a rich golden color, and it smells of bananas, cloves, spices, and doughy bread. It has a bready malty flavor with a light hop kick at the end. I can also taste banana, cloves, and honey… it’s a fairly sweet beer with hints of fruit. It’s a good stepping-stone to see what lies beyond the world of Budweiser. I bought the big bottle with the cork. Any beer that has a cork instead of a bottle cap just seems a little more classy. It’s 6.6% alcohol and that’s good but not great for an ale. It’s on the lower-middle end of acceptable. It’s a good beer for day drinking, but I wouldn’t play drinking games with it.
Critically Rated at 13/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 26, 2013 · 11:32 am
Your hair is getting long and shaggy, and it’s time for a trim. You go to the barbershop, you plop down some cash, and you leave a while later with a stylish new do. But nobody notices it. Nobody cares about it. Nobody compliments you on it. The world is indifferent. You should have saved your money and let your hair continue to grow. Don’t take it personally when nobody notices that you got a haircut. People tend not to notice minor changes in other people’s appearances. Everyone has got their own shit to deal with. Besides, you probably didn’t notice that Sarah is wearing a new shirt, and she’s crushed that you didn’t even say anything about it. You asshole.
Critically Rated at 6/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 26, 2013 · 11:26 am
Don’t talk with your mouth full. “But why not?” you ask, with food dribbling down the side of your face. Because it’s gross and because you’re not a fucking five-year-old. I don’t want to hear you chewing and chomping and smacking your lips as we make idle conversation. And I don’t appreciate the specks of your chewed food splattering on my face. It’s bad enough I have to listen to you talk, but this is really pushing it. Chew with your mouth closed. It’s common sense and it’s common courtesy. You should masturbate behind a closed door, and you should masticate behind a closed mouth. Nobody wants to see what’s going on in there. Close your mouth, swallow your food, and then you can join the conversation.
Critically Rated at 4/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 25, 2013 · 12:45 pm
The other day I overheard a clueless person acting like a tour guide to his visiting friends. He was pointing at the Bay Bridge and declared it to be the Golden Gate Bridge. His friends smiled and nodded, one of them even took a picture. I had to bite my tongue to keep from slapping him. Even a blind person knows that the Golden Gate Bridge is fucking red. And a real San Francisco native would know that its official color is international orange. You’re not much of a tour guide if you’re ignorant about the city you live in. Maybe you shouldn’t be talking about stuff that you don’t know anything about. Most cities have an interesting history, and it’s your duty to learn about yours. You don’t have to be an expert, just don’t make up facts. You’ll end up embarrassing yourself and I’ll write an article about your stupidity.
Critically Rated at 5/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 25, 2013 · 12:42 pm
Fracas Red is a Red Ale from Black Diamond Brewing Co. It has an aroma of hops and caramelized malts with citric undertones. I can smell grapefruit, oranges, and orange peels. It tastes of floral/herbal hops with a roasted malty backbone with caramel and citrus flavors. It starts bitter and finishes sweet. It says on the label that there are also hints of raisins. I’m pretty sure that they are lying. I taste no raisins. It has a solid 8% alcohol content, and it’s pretty drinkable so you might need to watch out and pace yourself. It has a cool label design. There’s a picture of a gnarly looking bull with eyes of flame staring directly into your soul. The bull knows your secrets. The bull knows your thoughts. He challenges you, daring you to try Fracas Red, to tame the beast. And you should. It’s a damn good beer.
Critically Rated at 14/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 24, 2013 · 11:02 am
Rock-paper-scissors is a classic playground game. Two opponents face off and choose one of three shapes (rock, paper, or scissors) and try to win a best of three series. A closed fist is a rock, two extended fingers are scissors, and an open hand is paper. Rock beats scissors, scissors beat paper, and paper beats rock. Everyone knows this game, but some regions have their own name for it. Most of the world knows it as rock-paper-scissors, but I grew up calling it roshambo. I’ve also heard ick-ack-ock and paper-scissors-stone, but it really doesn’t matter what you call it, it’s still the same game. You would play it just to play it when you were a kid, but now you only play it to settle minor disputes with your friends. It’s still a good game though. You rely on luck and psyching out your opponent and it’s always fun to get into someone’s head and break them down.
Critically Rated at 13/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 24, 2013 · 10:57 am
It’s a sad day when you find a hole in your favorite shirt. Your favorite shirt almost becomes a part of you. It’s comfortable and it fits well and it makes you look cool and it makes you feel good. You’ve worn it to parties, to dinners, on vacations, on dates, and you always managed to keep in clean and pristine. But time has a way of slogging on, and eventually the wear and tear will be too much to bear and a hole will form. You don’t have to throw it away. You can still wear it around the house, but you have to retire it from public appearances. When your favorite shirt gets demoted, another gets promoted. And even though you’ll miss the old one, your new shirt will eventually win your heart, and you’ll eventually create a new bunch of memories with your new favorite.
Critically Rated at 12/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
September 23, 2013 · 12:38 pm
People who smoke cigarettes are part of a club: the Cigarette Club. Being a member allows you to approach anybody that is smoking or carrying cigarettes and ask them for a smoke. They are obliged to hand one to you. You can also ask for a light at anytime. They will either light your cigarette for you or hand you a pack of matches. But if you are a club member you are also obliged to give up cigarettes to any stranger who asks for one. And offer them a light on top of it. And pretend like you don’t mind. If you want to join, membership is easy. All it requires is a one-time purchase of a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and you’re in. Now every smoking stranger is your friend. But friends mooch sometimes. Sometimes you’re the moocher and sometimes you’re the moochie. At least you’re part of a club.
Critically Rated at 13/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
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