Time for Quality.

** RING! RING! **

ME: Hello?

VOICE: Hi, it’s me, the unrelenting forward motion of time.

ME: Oh, yes. We have met.

TIME: Could you spare a moment to take a quick quality assurance survey?

ME: …

TIME: You’re not that busy.

ME: Yeah, fine.

TIME: Great! On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being absolute certainty and 1 being full-blown denialism, how certain are you that every moment of your existence is leading unflinchingly toward your own death?

ME: I mean … 10, I guess.

TIME: Great! Would you describe your existence as more like that Toy Story 3 scene where everyone is getting pushed toward the incinerator? Or more like the act of falling to the floor un-movingly when a child enters the room?

ME: Um. Five, I guess, just straight down the middle?

TIME: I see, I see. That’s not what most people usually go with, but okay.

ME: Can I ask, what exactly is being assured by this survey?

TIME: Well, you know, time has existed a long time, but it is only relatively recently - for us - that we have had conscious, sentient beings to toy with. Most of existence we’ve been dealing with planets and space dust, micro organisms, that sort of thing, so the opportunity to get real time feedback is still pretty novel for us, so we’re just trying things out.

ME: You keep saying “us" as in plural … are there other kinds of time?

TIME: Oh sure, but you don’t want to get into that! It will break your adorable little biological brain.

ME: Oooooookay.

TIME: Moving on. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being total transcendence and 1 being soul paralysis, what is it like for you to wake up on a Monday morning?

ME: Did you say “soul paralysis”?

TIME: Hm, not familiar with that one?

ME: It sounds terrible …

TIME: I’m told it is quite bad.

ME: Well, I guess, I mean, maybe a 6 … I don’t like waking up on Monday morning, but compared to the lives most people have lived, I probably shouldn’t complain. All I do is log into a computer and do work for 8 hours … it isn’t the most rewarding thing, but probably it is pretty far away from soul paralysis, if I really think about it. And I’ve kind of accepted that most of life is being bored frequently.

TIME: Yeah, that’s why we invented forgetting. You should be thankful for that one.

ME: You invented it?

TIME: Could you imagine if you had to actually remember how much of your life you wasted? Watching TV or waiting for water to boil, that kind of thing?

ME: I guess that would be a lot to have to confront, existentially, I mean.

TIME: So, last question!

ME: Okay.

TIME: Do you want to know how much time you have left?

ME: Excuse me?

TIME: Yeah, how much you got left on the shot clock, as it were?

ME: You’re asking if I want to know when I’m going to die?

TIME: Exactomundo.

ME: … Well … no, I guess I don’t want to know that.

TIME: Suit yourself. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

ME: How do you mean?

TIME: To us, I meant.

ME: Oh, I see.

TIME: Well, thanks for taking the time — wink wink — to talk to me today. If you ever need to get in touch with us, just walk outside at midnight, point at the moon and scream.

ME: Will do.

TIME: Have a good rest of your day.

ME: You too, thanks.

*** CLICK.***

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Thoughts on Lostness.

I am feeling very alienated tonight. From what, I can not tell you. From life, I suppose? I’m not going to get all existential on you and I promise this won’t be a terribly long post, but I just want to think a moment on this feeling.

One would think it would be hard to feel lonely on a planet with 7 billion people on it, but I manage. Today I have felt lonely. I’ve always had something of the loner in me, and that has usually been okay with me because I frequently like books more than people anyway. Though I don’t hate people; I enjoy the living hell out of them, just not at every single moment of the day, you know?

So loneliness is not foreign to me and generally I’m okay with it - you know - because I write, and that’s a solitary activity, and because I’m a surprisingly curmudgeonly little bastard despite the fact I’m not that old or small or curmudgeonly.

Once I was seeing a charming and delightful girl. She had dark hair and big gorgeous eyes and a beautiful tattoo in the skin down her side and I remember that we got to talking one morning, over coffee and smoking, about the readings that I occasionally get to do. She was a writer too and she hated doing them and she knew that I loved doing them (and I don’t suck at them, BTW) and I remember her telling me that there was a strange disconnect between my energetic readings and my frequently sedate state of being otherwise. And I told her that, for me, there is very much a switch that gets flipped between being on and being off. I don’t think of that as a manipulation or as something artificial, but I remember her look and I remember thinking that she thought a little less of me in that moment. As though switch-flipping was somehow disingenuous. That moment sticks to me. Maybe because she was - for better or worse - incapable of being disingenuous. Or maybe because that look she gave me really called out that sad and quiet and lonely germ in me.

That germ has grown all big and choleric today. Shifty, that thing is. Even worse when there’s no one to call it out. But please don’t imagine me sitting around crying into my beer while reading Kafka. There is great joy and beauty and adventure in life and I know that and enjoy enjoying that, but that’s also what makes me sad. These sad little days are made sadder by the fact that they aren’t days filled with adventure and beauty and joy. We can’t kayak the Colorado River every day, though I wouldn’t mind trying.

I guess that I am not “alienated” today. I guess what I am is just a little dark humoured. A little lost. But you can’t ever find anything new without getting a little lost first. I’ve been lost in the wilderness enough times to know that being lost ain’t that big a deal as long as you believe that in pretty short order you won’t be lost anymore.

Once I was up in the Tablelands above the Sequoias with my friend Mike the Director and we were basically lost on that moonscape. I think we had some vague idea which way was maybe north. And bounding over the ridgeline came a couple of inexplicably buoyantly happy Germans who were clearly headed in the wrong direction. They were more lost than us and didn’t even know it. We managed to set them straight and put them back on the right path because we were a tiny bit less lost than they were. I guess that’s how I feel today; lost but maybe not quite as lost as I could be. There’s potential in that, I suppose. And so maybe I shouldn’t glower so much on these sad and insignificant days because these are the days that make the good ones so good.

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Ready ...

So I have had some massive brain blockage as of late. If you need evidence of that just look and see how long it has been since I posted here. Um … sorry about that.

The truth - I suppose - is that I simply haven’t felt very much like me lately. When I feel like me I am always super excited to tell you about it! If you need evidence of that just look and see below at the entire blog I have spent years writing! Blogging is, if nothing else, always a love note to one’s self. Hey, I’m just the guy who is willing to say it.

So why the blockage? Why the weirdness? Why the not feeling like me?

Fuck if I know.

I could blame it on stress or work or being all constantly lovelorn and such, but those become tired excuses after a while, don’t they?

So let us focus not on the disease, but on the cures, shall we?

At long last I finally decided to quit my job. FINALLY! It was a nerve wracking experience, but I did it! I turned in my two week notice because I simply couldn’t stand continuing to do what I was doing. I have always tried not to get specific about my job on here and that isn’t going to change now, but suffice to say that although it was a very grown up job, I wasn’t finding it fulfilling and I think that the stress and the way I was being treated was actively doing damage to me. So finally I got my shit together enough to quit. I have no new job lined up. This may very well prove to be an unwise decision, but I know that it is still the right one. I am finally betting on myself again. And that part feels good. That part makes me feel more like me.

So what in the holy hell am I going to do with myself now? Well, a couple of things! First, I am going to go back to school and get my Masters. For several reasons (not the least of which are convenience and a liberal policy of acceptance)  I will be going back to CSU Northridge. I am still waiting on my official acceptance, but I was told by the secretary of graduate studies that I should be a shoe in. So that is the big picture, at the moment.

In the shorter term, I need to find an apartment! The lease isn’t up here until August, but I want to lock something down as fast as I can so that I don’t end up living out of my car with no job and two cats! Although there is a part of me that has always expected that I would end up that way.

Depending on how quickly I can line up some little apartment, I hope and plan to do a little bit of traveling. I’m going to spend some time up in the Bay area and also Sacramento. If I can make it work I may be taking a very long train trip. I may get to go back east and see some family. There is a possibility that I may get to go to London again for a little bit, but we shall see how all of that works out. BUT LOOK AT HOW INTERESTING I HAVE THE POTENTIAL TO BE!

There is - of course - the question of getting a new job. Yes, yes, I know that quitting my current job does not mean that I get to retire. Though how fucking cool would that be?! I am confident that I will be able to find something; maybe not something that I necessarily WANT and maybe not something that will pay well, but my goals right now are to go back to school, to write more, and to be goddam happy for once. I think that I have taken some steps toward building myself my own little bit of happiness. I have accepted that I am single right now, so I’m going to quit bitching about it. I have - believe it or not - been working on coming to terms with who I actually am. That is not to say that I’m accepting my lot in life, or anything as mundane as that; I am nothing if not restless. But if that is what I am, then that is what I am. I’m trying to make some peace with that and to learn to enjoy it.

So, as I mentioned before, I’m betting on me. I’m going to be basically starting over again from scratch (again), but not really, not entirely. I have all of these experiences, all of this life, I have some friends and a few people out there in the world whom I still love and adore. And, not for nothing, I have had to remind myself (what it says over there on the right hand side of this blog) life is beautiful, but complicated. I’ve had to remind myself that complication is not a vice, in fact, it may just be a virtue. Because happiness that is earned is far more satisfying than the sort that just falls into one’s lap. So I am ready now to go out there and earn some.

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Instead of Blogging.

Things that I have done recently instead of writing blogs for you to read:

- Worn a lady’s denim jacket (it fit surprisingly well)

- Gone on a small town Downtown beer-tasting beer-crawl.

- Worked on the design of my personal shipping container home (I’m making progress!)

- Reading Mary Roach’s “Packing for Mars”

- Secretly – and in the middle of the night and in the dark and in my bed with the sheet pulled over my head – started doing research on what exactly it would take to hike the Trans-Catalina Trail

- Working

- Fantasizing about quitting my job

- Fantasizing about quitting my job

- Very carefully planning and budgeting for how to live in a world where I have quit my job

- Watching a lot of Hulu

- Attending an unsanctioned class reunion

- Carefully tracking how incredibly fucking boring my life is in my “lifestayle journal”/”Unicorn Dream Diary”

- Learning how to work an iPhone (it is much harder than you would think!)

- Hiking the Hollywood Sign

- Trying to write (but actually just spending depressingly long periods of time sitting in front of my laptop without writing anything)

- Crying in the shower in the mornings

- Sleeping in a sleeping bag on my bed rather than sleeping in the bed itself (Later, when someone asks, this would be a pretty good example to point to in regard to when exactly my behavior started becoming “erratic”.)

- Trying to be ruthlessly frank and honest with myself – and really doing some serious soul-searching, including but not limited to self-doubt and not a small amount of self-loathing – about whether or not I really can get my base pack weight down to less than ten pounds and twenty liters.

- Trying to figure out how Twitter works (it is much harder than you would think!)

- Thinking about blogging*

- Cleaning up cat shit

*While none of these things are necessarily superior to blogging, some of them verge on the having of an actual life, which in and of itself may be superior to blogging. Conversely though, the having of an actual life might very well give me better stuff to blog about. I mean, how fucking fascinated would you be right now if I were a writer/hobo? What strange and bizarre and probably better blog would that be?!

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Just Garbage.

There are many ways in which I know that I need a new job. One of the most striking is that fact that I have recently found myself romanticizing the life of a garbage truck driver. They drive around all day, arm lazily perched out the window of the cab. They get to travel around, see interesting places, perform a quick task using some state of the art hydraulics and then they are off! Back out there into the world.

It should be noted here that I don’t really even like driving and I certainly have no love of garbage, yet I still find myself thinking that driving a garbage truck would be cool. Plus, just think of all of the fun and interesting stuff you will encounter! I imagine that a garbage truck driver is constantly looking at some complete dining room set left by a dumpster and scratching his head and asking no one, “Why would they want to throw this out?” I would like to live in a world where garbage truck drivers are universally known for having really well appointed homes, on account of all the great stuff they find during the day.

Anyway, I clearly need a new job, because fantasizes like these tend to weird out even me.

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Reblogged.

From time to time I re-fall in love with life. I just had one of those profound moments of reflection.

Alfred Hitchcock said, “Drama is life with the dull parts taken out.”

Well I agree that 70 – 80% of life is tedium and monotony, but that other 30 – 20% is pure wonderfulness.

I realized that I have been to New York and Boston. I have been to London and St. Louis, Paris, Orlando, and I have eaten fried chicken in Philadelphia with my grandmother (whom I miss dearly). I have had sangria on the roof of the Met (one of my favorite places in the world) and I have watched the sky turn green in Ozark Missouri before a thunder storm. I’ve been to Branson and Las Vegas. I have stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower and at the top of the fake one at the Paris Casino. I have been thrown out of bars in San Francisco and loaned my jacket to a naked stripper in Fresno, who was trying to catch some ZZZs on the couch. I have been lucky enough to fall in love and unlucky enough to get stranded at Heathrow for two days. I’ve had fish thrown over my head at Pike’s Place Market in Seattle and I have stumbled ass backward into fist fights in Sun Valley. I personally discovered that the snow in Park City Utah is nature’s best beer cozy and also have experienced a couple of sublimely perfect days in Salt Lake City; there’s nothing quite as perfect as being in love in the cold. I have smoked cigarettes in San Diego while listening to Nada Surf live while landing jets passed overhead. I’ve driven a rented Vauxhall (on the wrong side of the road) all the way to Stonehenge and walked the world’s best museum in Shelburne Vermont. I have nearly died on a kayak off the coast of Catalina and I have been deliriously in love on 17-Mile-Drive around Pebble Beach. I have straddled the Prime Meridian and the US-Mexico border; for that matter I have flown a kite under a pier on a Mexican beach and personally haggled over the price of a lobster dinner. I have watched a Minute Man III missile launch from Vanderburgh before the sun had come up and I have stood on the flight deck of an operational aircraft carrier, with Tchaikovsky blaring in my headphones. I have known more amazing women than is fair and I have been lucky enough to love some of them and to be loved in return. I have unhooked corsets in dark rooms and made love on a bare stage (empty audience). I have been found guilty in court of a misdemeanor and I have cried in front of more than one therapist. I have fallen in love with the Brooklyn Bridge and been terrified by the Coronado Bridge. And next week I will go white water rafting on the Sacramento River and the week after I will hike into the Grand Canyon and then ride a helicopter out of it. There is no end to the things that I love about life, and while life never seems easy at the time, it is simply and always worth the effort.  

From time to time I re-fall in love with life.  

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Deep Thoughts About Walruskind.

I think that we all reach a point when we ask ourselves, what if walruses had become the dominant mammal on Earth instead of people? Would the buildings in their sprawling ocean metropolises have elevators? Would they have developed some sort of submarine motorcar? Would they send explores up onto land to climb mountains in the same way that we send explorers down into the sea to map trenches? How would their computers differ from ours? Obviously their mouse would have to be completely different so as to be operated by either a flipper or a tusk. Would their internet be different than ours? Or what if our two races existed side by side? With ours controlling the land and theirs controlling the sea? Would we have a long history of wars? A nuclear cold war of some kind? Or would be leave with some sort of separate peace? And would our internets overlap? Would they overlap but seem separate and foreign? Like when you stumble onto a website that’s written in Arabic? Would they have their own version of Google? Or would they use ours? And what about the times when they come up on shore to mate or just to lay around? Would be consider that a trespassing? Or would places like beaches be apolitical neutral zones, like Spain during World War II? All very important, eternal and inevitable questions.

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It IS a Small World After All.

I had an interesting moment at my work today.

I work a 9-to-5 at a desk in an accounting department. The details of what I actually do are not really important and I don’t like to talk about them too much because I know my name has gotten googled more than once by some of the people my company works with.

Anywhoo, I share an office with a great guy who is about 55 and has a couple college-age kids and our office connects to my accounting department boss’s office. He’s probably about the same age.

Because of the industry we’re in, sometimes we have outside agents drop by to bring in paperwork/ask for money. Well one of those guys happened to drop by today and he was in talking to my accounting department boss (I also have an Operations boss, which is why I keep making that distinction) and I could hear snippets of their conversation over the Prince that was playing Pandora-style in my ears and I realized that I was the only native born American in this situation.

The guy I share an office with is from the Philippines originally, my accounting department boss is Irish and the outside sales guy is from West Africa.

It gave me a moment of pause and my frantic fingers grew less frantic on the keyboard and I just thought about it for a moment.

I am a big fan of this whole melting pot idea and while I come across as cynical and unimpressed all the time, I really am a sap for the whole idea of America. Not the idea that the founding fathers had (do you wanta live in a loose affiliation of agrarian states with a weak centralized government? ‘cause I sure as hell don’t) and not the idea that the Regan-ites had of America as a gleaming beacon of righteousness and not even the idea that John Winthrop had when he imagined a Puritan city upon a hill.

What I like is the idea that America is a place that was built by the people in it, the people that came here to be part of it. And yeah, one can say that America was stolen (which it was) from the native Americans who were here first, but you know what? I know about that whole land-bridge-from-Asia thing, you guys stumbled ass backward onto this continent just like the rest of us.

But am I straying from the point?
Yes, a bit.

The point is that I felt heartened by the fact that three quarters of us in that office at that moment today were from other places and here we all were going about our lives, trying to get through our day, working together (more or less).

So look, I know that this all is starting to sound a little we-are-the-world at the moment, but stick with me …

I like this place, I like this country that lets people in, that lets people adopt it as their own. I like this place. The guy I share an office with is good at his job, he is thoughtful and genuine and he is a good person (probably a better person than me) and his being in this country has made it better. And the same goes for the others in that little accounting department office today.

What a strange and amazing place this is that we have built, this odd country composed entirely of people from someplace else. And you know what? I have done less than those other guys in the office today. I once moved from the middle of California to the bottom of California. These other guys crossed oceans (literally, crossed oceans) to be in that office this afternoon, and they did it because there existed in them some kind of hope, some kind of faith, that this weird place called America maybe belonged to them too.

We have spent about 230 years telling the world what this country is and it turns out, we never really had to. This isn’t a nation that belongs to its history, at least not in the way that other nations do. This is a country that is constantly renewing its history, constantly writing and rewriting it. And I like that about this place.

And look, I live in a part of town where when I drive to work I drive past the guys waiting on the corner hoping to get picked up to mow somebody’s yard, and I grew up in a place that simply couldn’t function without an off-the-books labor-force of people willing to do excrutiating, backbreaking work (you try picking strawberries for a day) for too low pay. So maybe I’m a little more liberal than a lot of others, but I appreciate this country for what it did for me and what it continues to do for others.

I’m not so naïve that I’m ignoring our faults (of which we have very, very, very many) or our awful, nasty, filthy, unforgivable history (or which we have very, very, very much), but just for a moment today I had this interesting moment that made me love this place very much. And I am banking it. So that the next time I see that Arizona is trying to take away the citizenship of naturally born American citizens (children of illegal immigrants) or the next time I see the latent racism of those Obama-as-Hitler bumper stickers (there are a surprisingly large number in Southern California), I will just go to my happy place from this afternoon.

It was quite a happy place.

With all that said, I will now return to my default position: the nihilistic, hyper-ironic mockery of everything (but thanks for listening).

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Some 100% True-ish Facts.

All of these things are either 100% true, or less than 100% true.

1. When Sputnik was launched in 1957 it contained a single vial of Joseph Stalin’s semen. It is still circling the Earth, Sputnik and the semen.

2. While filming the film “Accepted”, Justin Long and Blake Lively had a tryst that is the basis for the screenplay “Gossip Boy” currently being shopped by Jonah Hill.

3. General Douglas MacArthur practiced yoga.

4. The modern necktie derives from neckerchiefs worn by Croatian mercenaries.

5. Robert F. Kennedy spoke German very, very poorly. His German friends made fun of him behind his back, and then felt bad about it later.

6. The baseball card of Moe Berg is displayed at the CIA headquarters in Langley Virginia because in addition to being a major league shortstop in the 1930s, he also spoke ten languages and spied for the OSS.

7. Fans and advocates of the textile pattern Hounds Tooth generally and vehemently deny that it is derived from Glen Urquhart plaid.

8. I once accidently bumped elbows with Amanda Bynes at the Arclight in Hollywood.

9. Until the age of 14 author Sir Terry Pratchett was raised as a girl.

10. There has never actually been 400,000 of anything. There has been more and there has been less, but there has never been exactly 400,000 of anything (I learned this at the secret bi-monthly meeting of bad-ass accountants, a members only club).

11. At the Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles, racist epithets are shouted at you (via recording) as you walk through the entryway. This is actually a prank and not officially part of the museum experience.

12. Standard Memory Foam absorbs particles of your dreams.

13. 40% of the porn viewed online every day is accessed by women.

14. Steve Jobs once met Osama bin Laden in Dubai.

15. Conan O’Brien was once stalked by a priest from the Archdiocese of Boston.

16. American author and Pulitzer Prize winner Don DeLillo occasionally writes commercials for Chivas 18. He refuses to be credited for this.

17. Director Steven Soderbergh is a practicing Episcopalian.

18. SCUBA is an acronym that stands for Submillimetre Common-User Bolometer Array.

19. As a teenager, Harrison Ford dated his best friend’s sister.

20. Three different men have been married to Whoopi Goldberg.

21. William Shakespeare invented the word ‘submerge’.



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Loneliness, and Other SAT Questions.

I have felt like crap lately. I have been hovering near the edge of sick for over a week, but I never quite seem to get there, plus I have not been living very healthy (or healthily) lately, plus I felt really and truly lonely the other day for the first time in a really long time. Like massively and tragically ALONE, like in a write-a-poem-about-it-and-then-stick-your-head-in-the-oven kind of way.

Now that’s hyperbole, of course, but … holy shit! Loneliness totally blows.

Now I have some great friends and a super awesome roommate and there are people in my life whom I adore, so I’m not trying to botch and whine about how awful things are. I am just taking a little stock of things. And so I am saying: I felt really lonely the other day.

And if you’re familiar with this sort of thing, then you probably know what I felt. For those of you who aren’t, we will restate it like an old school SAT (because nothing is more fun than the SATs!):

If boredom is being cold, then loneliness if hypothermia.

Or, maybe, that doesn’t really work.

How about:

Disneyland is to happiness as the dark side of the moon is to loneliness.

Does that one even make sense?

How about:

Writing blog posts about loneliness is to blog readership as ants are to a picnic.

Yeah, that one kinda works.

I got so bored and lonely I was reading old emails from my Ex (from the happier times, obviously) but that lead inexorably to the more recent and unpleasant emails and so I just went on this weird bender of reliving a whole lot of emotions I could have done without in the first place.

BTW, NEVER READ OLD EMAILS. Ever. It is worse than going through old pictures.

Anywhoo, I know that my life is not all that bad. In fact, it isn’t bad at all. Sure, I don’t have enough money and I don’t have any of the professional success I had hoped to have by this point in my life, but I do have good days. In fact, sometimes I have really good days. Recently I spent hours and hours talking to a charming and delightful friend of mine and we just talked, about all kinds of things. And if you know me at all (or have learned a little about me by reading this blog) you know that I LOVE TALKING and I am interested in everything. So sometimes just getting to cut out all of the background chatter of the world and just talk is quite nice.

Also, I have been and done all sorts of awesomeness lately. I went to an art show/bar/folk band concert and I got to look like a dirty hipster. If you ever have the chance, check out
The Airliner in Lincoln Heights.

I also went to one of the coolest/weirdest events of my life recently: a big LA thrift store opens up their warehouse once a month and for a $10 cover, there’s an open bar and bands and you get to rummage through bins of clothes and then buy them BY THE POUND! Yes, buy clothes by the pound. (That was at a place called The Boogie Den. I would give you the link, but their site always crashes my computer.) I am now the owner of a strange red leather jacket that is so cool I’m a little afraid of it.

I finally went to this thing called First Friday that they do down in Abbot Kinney in Venice. On the first Friday of the month the street are lines with some of LA’s finest gourmet food truck and you get to spend hours and hours wandering from one to the other and eating. I had some cheeseburger sushi, among other delicacies.

The point of this post – in so far as these things ever really have a point – is just to step back and take a look at life and size it up and down and make it clear to myself that I should stop complaining so much, which I now realize, I should.

Now I just feel sort of silly about having written this whole thing.

Well, whatever, it is really hard to generate content!

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Take On Me.

In case you were curious, my day was bad in just about every way that it could be. So I am sitting on the couch drinking crap wine and reading Tom Robbins while my roommate Eggplant Parmesan (still test driving blog names for her) and dearest Jennica learn “Take Me On” on ukuleles.

Don’t ever tell them that I said so, but they are actually getting quite good and the soft uke sounds actually help to rub down the nasty edges of my day.

If I were to step out of my head for just a moment (fat chance of that) I might actually realize that life is okay at this very moment.


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Just Eternal Oddness.

I didn’t really realize how weird I have gotten lately until I was on Pandora at work this morning and found myself randomly listening to the lyrics of an Avril Lavigne song and thinking, “Yeah, that’s so right.”

By 'weird', I just mean weird. There is no implied positive or negative value. Just eternal oddness.

Also, why the fuck is my Pandora playing Avril Lavigne?


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