New Year, New Me!!!!

An Email From Your Stupid Friend Sally

OMFG, its already new years! can u believe it! omg where does the time go? it feels like it was just xmas last week! LOL

so now that its new years i decided its time 4 me to fully embrace my full potential and becum a person who strives to attain her goals and aspirations. i am a strong and intelligent and beutiful and no 1 can tell me that i cant make my dreams come tru! all my dreams are stars and im gonna reach up and take them!!! female power ladies!!!!

i think the most important thing is to find a boyfriend who will treat me right and buy me things and has nice abs. heheheh its not like im shallow but if ur gonna date me you gotta be hotttt!!! ;) LOL jk but really tho this is serious. i need some1 who will cuddle me and be my whole wide world. i wanna be able to post pics of us on fb and hav every1 be like 'omg sally ur boyfriend is so hotttt' and 'you guys r totes perf' and ill be like 'yea im sooooooooooooooooo luckyyyyyyyy.' and i wanna like tweet song lyrics that apply to our relationship because our love will be reeeaaalllyyy deep and the only way to express it is thru song lyrics <3

You Better Watch Out

        

    While the children are snug in their beds, St. Nick slips in through the chimney and eats some milk and cookies. He places the presents under the tree and goes on his merry way. That’s if you're good. If you’re naughty, and live in the Alpine countries, a far darker fate awaits you. Instead of getting coal, Alpine children are tortured by a demonic creature with cloven hooves and fur until they repent for their sins. If they’re really bad, no amount of repentance can save them. They’re dragged to hell in the beast’s sack and are devoured as its Christmas dinner.

    This creature is known as the Krampus and in Eastern Europe he and Santa travel around together on Christmas going from home to home. It’s the classic good cop/bad cop duo. While most Americans would be shocked to know that Santa (who was originally a bishop) would keep such company, the Krampus actually predates the birth of Christ. Like a lot of aspects of our modern Christmas celebration, the Krampus has his roots in Pagan traditions.

How to Cook Thanksgiving Dinner for One

       

      Hey there! Looks like you’ve had a rough year, huh? I’m not being presumptuous but you are all alone on Thanksgiving. Obviously something’s gone wrong. Anyway, I’m here to help! I’m gonna teach you how to cook Thanksgiving dinner for one in a few easy steps. Let’s get started!

Happy Thanksgiving Kids!

     Hi family, time to get excited! I’m about to cook Thanksgiving dinner! Yes, I know it’s only been a week since the doctor let me out of the hospital, but I think I’m ready to start taking on new challenges and I’m gonna start by cooking us a lovely meal!

     Since I’m not allowed near sharp objects, we can’t have turkey. Sorry kids, but ol’ dad isn’t legally able to use knives so unless you wanna eat the meat directly off the turkey, there’ll be no turkey. This means there’ll also be no stuffing. We can’t go out to eat because daddy isn’t allowed to leave the house for the next six months.

      Why the long faces everyone? Cheer up! I know it’s gonna be hard, but this family has been through MUCH worse. Remember that time I killed Fluffy and put his body parts in each of your beds? That was a dark chapter in our family’s history, and we’ve moved past it. Look how happy we are now!

Times Square on Election Night

  

   “I don’t know if I’m the best person to talk to,” he said.

   “Why?” I asked.  

   “I have multiple personalities. You’d have to talk to all of us.”

   “Oh. Did you vote today?”

   “Yeah. Five times.”

     This was the first person that agreed to let me interview him in Times Square on election night. As I first approached the huge monitors showing election coverage, I figured it’d be like shooting fish in a barrel. There were hundreds of people anxiously awaiting the results of the presidential race but apparently only the crazy ones would talk to an undergrad journalist with a radio mic.

So Predictable

     

      The Psychic of the Village sat on a plush red chair inside her shop on 6^th Avenue right off Houston St. She was wearing a purple tracksuit and chewed gum as she stared at her iPhone. On the small table next to her were a stack of tarot cards and some candles. She was going to tell me my future. Not my whole future. That would require a $75 tarot card reading. Instead I opted for the $10 face reading. She would tell me all about myself just by looking at my face.

       She looked at me and told me I will live a long and happy life. That’s a relief. I will have a successful career and my work will involve people. That’s so vague, how could it not be true? And there was more good news: I have many admirers.  One in particular stood out to her. There was an age gap between the mystery admirer and me. I asked if the admirer was older or younger. The Psychic of the Village told me it could be either one, she wasn’t sure. Nobody’s perfect.

Little House of Horrors

Curious Expeditions, Flickr

If I’ve learned anything from the mystery solving teens on Scooby-Doo, it’s that ghosts are nothing more than profit hungry realtors wearing sheets over their heads. With this in mind, I was skeptical that Manhattan’s most haunted house was actually haunted. For years, staff and visitors at the Merchant’s House Museum on East 4^th St have claimed to have supernatural encounters. They say they can’t explain the phenomena, but they believe that something other than antique furniture lurks through its corridors. 

I hope I don't neglect my future children as much as I've neglected this blog.

because then they would starve to death.

Thanks For Nothing

Unfortunately, none of us were high on heroin in this picture.

       I grew up with a secure, loving family in a nice suburban area. This is the worst possible way for a writer to grow up. If I were raised by drug addicts in the ghetto I'd already have the makings of an interesting memoir. Unfortunately, there's no built-in struggle to the story of my childhood, and it’ll probably be a while before I’m able to write a memoir and become a famous writer. My parents encouraged me to follow my dreams and made sure I always had everything I ever needed and more. I never worried about having a roof over my head. I never went hungry and anyone who knows what I looked like from ages 8 to 16 can attest to this.

I'm Mike Fletcher

     

      I’m Mike Fletcher, alter ego of Chris Williams and the most important thing to know about me is that I’m much cooler than him. I’m a film major at NYU entering my junior year. I have a fake ID and I hang out at cool bars in Williamsburg with all my hipster friends. One of them is in a band. Another one is a performing artist. Sometimes we do gateway drugs together.

    I have sex all the time and I can totally pull off wearing a leather jacket. I’m great in social settings and I never make inappropriate jokes about the Holocaust when first meeting someone. I have perfect vision and I don’t need glasses. I can wear non-prescription sunglasses like normal people and my facial hair grows in evenly.

Let's Hang Out

       
      Hello, your body looks nice in those clothes. Mind if I come closer to get a whiff of your hair? No? Ok, I’ll smell it later. Who am I? I’m Chris. We have English together and we had Spanish together. Don’t you remember me? Really? You don’t? We’ve talked several times. That’s weird that you don’t remember me. I’ve lent you three pens. And you still haven’t given them back.

       I added you over two months ago on Facebook and you still haven’t accepted my friend request. I’ve been checking every ten minutes to see if you’ve accepted me, but you haven’t. Your privacy settings are really secure and I can’t see any pictures from when you went to Cabo over spring break. I bet you wore a bikini.

What Dads Are For

        

      I found the perfect Father’s Day present. It’s a book called What Dads Are For, which features about a sentence per page with sappy lines about the importance of a dad. Things like, “to teach me how to be honest in the face of hardship,” but sorely missing the more realistic reasons such as, “to put money in my checking account.”

     If I get this for my dad, he will cry and I will win. This was it, a way out. I could buy this for him and call it a day. But I decided not to take the easy way out, I’m almost 20 years old and I should be capable of buying my dad a more meaningful, personalized Father’s Day gift. This book is the type of thing a mom would give to her husband saying it was from their 2-year-old child. I needed something that would pack the same emotional punch as What Dads Are For while also being something personal.

That Signature Look

     I need to be more like Hitler; he had the right idea. Right now I’m too much of an Osama. In case you’re wondering, I’m referring to appearances. I’m not referring to these men’s ideologies; let’s keep this superficial.

      I was on the subway last week and a Muslim man got on the train, dressed to the nines. He had on the full garb (yes, I know I am being insensitive by not using the proper terms for Muslim clothing, but I do not know the actual terms and “garb” is a lot better than calling someone a “towel head,” so we’ll stick with “garb”). The second this man stepped on the train, I immediately thought “Osama Bin Laden!” It wasn’t as though I thought this man was a terrorist but my thought was more of a “Hey, that’s how Osama Bin Laden used to dress.” Still, making this immediate association was a disappointment to me. “Really Chris?” I thought, that's what some Kansas hillbilly in New York for the first time would think. I wanted to go up to this man and apologize and tell him that I respected his religion and maybe buy him some ice cream. But then again, I’m sure almost everyone else in the subway car thought the same thing I did. If I didn’t offer him guilt-ridden ice cream, then someone else would. 

Cats Who Speak English

A FAREWELL TO THE SPANISH LANGUAGE

      I never have to speak a word of Spanish again, which is probably a good thing since I haven’t retained all that much of it. As of the end of this semester, I have officially achieved exit level status in my studies of the Spanish language. But if I had my way, I would have been done with it 12 years ago.

     One day in the second grade, without warning, a small Hispanic woman who was most likely an illegal immigrant came into our classroom and started speaking to us in broken English. She was there to teach us the Spanish language. I was familiar with Spanish from my younger years, when Big Bird tried to shove it down my throat every few months on Sesame Street. Other than that I had very little interest in learning a new language. I was seven, I had just mastered reading and writing in English and already I was being forced to start from scratch with a weird alphabet where some of the letters had marks or squiggly lines above them. This was not all right.

Hidden Talent

    

     By the time I was in seventh grade, my parents began to worry I was useless. I had no discernable hobbies or talents, and I showed early signs of being unemployable and homeless. My parents always told me how much they loved me, but I doubt either of them planned on spending their retirements taking care of the 30 year old on their couch. So, my mom decided it was time I developed into better person, and she had the perfect way to do it. She forced me to take guitar lessons.

       I use the word “forced” for a reason. I did not do this willingly. To me, it seemed pointless to take up a hobby. I was perfectly content with my musical inabilities and saw no reason to change things. I tried rationalizing with my mom. I was already 12, I told her; if I had musical talents we would’ve figured it out already. I was too old to be learning new tricks. At the time, I honestly thought I had fully developed as a person and that I knew everything there was to know. Shockingly, this turned out to not be true. Do you guys know about that secret arrow in the FedEx logo? That shit’s crazy.

Let's Read a Book

   

         I’m about to start reading Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it. It is only one of the finest, if not tantalizing and controversial, literary works of the 20^th century. It’s European, and from the ‘50s, so yeah, it’s pretty awesome.

      You’re probably too busy playing Words with Friends or napping to spend quality time with such fine literature. Your idea of reading is skimming over your Twitter and Facebook feeds. Well, unlike you, I spend hours pouring over books that you’ve never even heard of. Some of them are difficult reads, but that doesn’t stop me. I’m really well read and I have an amazing vocabulary. I was reading Tolstoy when I was seven.

       Now, if you don’t mind I need to get to my reading.

       Ok, here we go, Chapter 1.

You Only Live Once, And Then You're Dead

     

      I just ate 490 calories worth of pudding. It wasn’t even that good. I should have been writing my final paper for 18^th Century Wit, but instead I decided to buy pudding because, as I told myself, “I deserved a treat.” To be clear, I did not deserve a treat.

      A draft of my paper is due tomorrow and I have no idea what to write about. To make matters worse, I haven’t read the book I’m supposed to be writing about. Nevertheless, I put my books away after 15 minutes and made my way outside to purchase some pudding. I saw the large cup of pudding in the refrigerated container and knew it was a lot. I knew it would be better not to buy it, there were some perfectly nice bananas close by. But, guess what. I bought it and ate it. Then I made the mistake of looking at the label. 490 calories, 16 grams of fat, 580mg of sodium.

     This entire weekend had been incredibly self-indulgent as evident by my laundry hamper, which smelled like an episode of Mad Men. I had made some questionable choices, but no regrets, just love. After all, you only live once. The pudding, however, was a whole other animal. Suddenly, it seemed wrong to have eaten so much pudding. Why had I made such a bad choice? Suddenly, it seemed like I had been making a lot of bad choices lately. I haven’t been reading or writing as much, I don’t get enough sleep, I’m behind on all my work, I go on Twitter when I’m at my job. I shouldn’t even be typing this right now because I need to go to my professor’s office hours to talk about the paper I haven’t started yet. Where’s my initiative? Why don’t I care? Where is my life headed? Should I get some more pudding?

      YOLO, or for the unhip “you only live once,” is a good motto to live by. It means taking risks and throwing convention to the side. You have nothing to lose, so you might as well go for it, right? Well, maybe. But, dear readers, I can say without a doubt that YOLO is best not applied to pudding. If you buy pudding and eat too much of it, you’ll be forced to question where your life is headed and become even more self-indulgent by writing about it. Yes, it’s true, you only live once, but after eating 490 calories of a shitty dessert the romanticism of the motto wears off and you realize after life comes death. And after too much pudding comes a really bad tummy ache.

Such a Tease

      

     “I want to rub my naked breasts all over your face,” she whispered into my ear.

     “Wow, I’m flattered, but no thank you,” I replied.

      This middle-aged stripper was being incredibly forward.

     “I want to touch you and feel you,” she said in broken English through the gaps in her teeth, “I’m not just saying this, I like you.”

      “No thank you,” I said, trying to get her to leave me alone. All I wanted was to have a relaxing night out, but obviously I had done too good a job looking sexy that night; the strippers were all over me.

Happy Easter Janie

       

       Janie, be careful with that. We don’t want dye all over the counter. That’s better. Wow, that Easter egg really came out nice. Good job princess.

        Look, sweetheart I think it’s time we had a talk. You’re getting older now; you’ll be a first grader next year. As your father, I feel it is my right to tell you some facts of life so that you’re better prepared for the world. Well, where to begin? How ‘bout Easter! Janie, angel, you know the Easter Bunny you’re so excited to have come tonight? Well, he’s not real. Your mother and I are the ones who fill your basket with chocolates and treats. I know, it’s rather shocking, but this is just one of the many terrible truths about life that you will have to face. What? Of course you’ll still get chocolate tomorrow, but it’ll be from your mother and I. Not some magical rabbit. Remember when your tooth fell out and you put it under your pillow and the tooth fairy came? She’s not real either. That was me who put the money under your pillow. And Santa? I hate to break it to you sweetheart but he is also just a charade. There is no Santa and there’s no magic and there’s nothing worth living for. I can see this is upsetting you, honey, but you need to know all of this if you’re gonna survive in this world.

Point One Sibuna! Analyzing "House of Anubis" Season 2

       I’m going through a serious “House of Anubis” withdrawal right now. For those of you who do not know what “House of Anubis” is, and I don’t expect that many of you do, I suggest you Google it. Since January, I’ve had to explain “House of Anubis” to many people and my reason for watching it, and I’ve grown tired of doing this so I will keep the explanations brief. It’s a Nickelodeon soap opera centering on a group of high school aged students in an English boarding school who solve ancient Egyptian mysteries inside of the house they live in. So that’s what it is and the reason I watched it is because Stephanie Chan made me and everyone always does what she tells them to do.

      My sense of withdrawal has nothing to do with the quality of the show. Let me make this perfectly clear: it is awful. It is low budget, the characters are two-dimensional, the acting is embarrassingly bad, it has glaring plot holes, and none of it is as charming or as clever as it wants to be. The “Egyptian” mythology the show bases itself around never goes any deeper than what one can learn from a Wikipedia article and the mystery cliches are topped off with a revolving bookshelf. Yet there is something about it, other than Stephanie Chan, which kept me watching every weekday for 8 weeks.

Choose Your Own Adventure Story!

    
     It is 8AM and your alarm wakes you up. Class starts in a half hour. Pick 1 to get out of bed or 2 to go back to sleep.

1. Time to shower! After that you brush your teeth, and get dressed. Now it’s time to go to class. To go to class choose 3. To go to JFK airport and hop on a flight to Somalia, choose 4.

2. You sleep for an additional 4 hours and wake up because the sun is incredibly bright. You decide to get out of bed and get dressed. Go to 5 to put on a blue shirt, go to 6 to put on a green shirt.

3. Wow, you’re really bad at this. You’re not allowed to read anymore.

4. Somalia is really sunny. Better put on some sunscreen! Next, you decide to do some sightseeing. To ask a local for directions pick 7. To buy a sword, pick 8.

“The Office” Finds Some Much Needed Direction

       

        Last month, news came that Rainn Wilson is teaming up with show-runner Paul Lieberstein to create a spinoff about Schrute Farms and the quirky family members that work there. The plan is to launch the new show next spring, meaning Wilson will only appear in half of “The Office” episodes next season. Additionally, Mindy Kaling has a pilot in development at Fox and if it’s picked up as a series, she will also be leaving. Just this week, James Spader announced that his work on “The Office” will end after this season. “Office” head writer Danny Chun has signed a development deal with ABC and is also likely to leave. And, perhaps most importantly, none of the cast members have deals in place for next season. Ed Helms, John Krasinski, and Jenna Fischer are all in contract negotiations for a ninth season, which has yet to be picked up by NBC. In the past month, the shows ratings have hit series lows. “The Office” is in a state of flux. In all likelihood the show will return in the fall for what will surely be its final season. But who will be back remains to be seen.

Today's Scoop: Evil Sandwiches Infiltrate Library, Nobody Cares

        

     The New York Public Library is opening two ‘wichcraft sandwich stands inside the building starting on March 1 and today at work (I’m a reporter now) I decided to cover this story. Since you read my piece from a few months ago, you know I am concerned about the rising level of commercialism in and around books. Sadly, I must be objective in my reporting for WFUV radio, so I wasn’t able to go off on a humorous rant about how I don’t think the NYPL needs a tourist-attracting food stand inside their building. But here, on my blog, I can do just that, so here we go: There are tons of places to eat right across the street! This shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise, of course people don’t want to have to go outside (in the sun!) to get food. How ridiculous! Anywhere you are in America, it should be a given that there will be some sort of food within minimal walking distance that also protects you from the harmful rays of Vitamin D. With all these ideas swimming in my head, I went downtown to find someone with similar ideas who I could record and put on the radio. I wanted the public’s opinion, but I wanted the public’s opinion to match mine.

I Heart NYC!!!

Dear Mom and Dad,

     Susie and I are having a terrific time on our honeymoon in the “Big Apple” (that’s what REAL New Yorkers call NYC!!!). We’ve only been here a week but we already feel like we’ve seen everything! We fit right in, we bought “I Heart NY” gear just like the real New Yorkers wear! There’s so much here, I don’t even know where to start.

       The nightlife! It’s amazing! Especially The Times Square, there’s so many lights! It’s like every night is a celebration! And there’s SO MANY great restaurants. They have an Olive Garden and a TGI Fridays! It’s the best food I’ve ever eaten! (Just kidding mom, I love your pot roast!). Oh, and the buildings here are really tall. I can’t believe it! I can stretch my neck all the way back and just be able to make out the top of it!!