Me and You and Everyone We Know.

The joy of moving to a large city is that you find out everyone is batshit crazy, and in the best way possible. I regret any day I ever spent in this city NOT taking public transportation for this exact reason. And that's kinda why you love your city: there are very specific batshit crazy people that you presumably spend every single day of your life with and you've grown this very odd kinship with (one of those batshit crazy people being yourself). Everyone has a family of complete and total strangers that they associate with from the bus. Or the gym. Or the guy who honestly brought his fucking dog to Peet's Coffee in a very specific argyle sweater vest (to be clear: he owns a few of them, which is discouraging on so many levels). Point being... Life is basically a huge sequence of strangers making gigantic snap judgments about strangers while they are getting to wherever it is they are going. Then you hang out with your real friends and family in the off time.

Someone once told me I go through life like i'm studying for a test, trying to memorize every weird detail I can along the way and keeping it in a field notes journal in my head just in case. Fairly accurate. So I just waddle through life scribbling down notes in my head to write about later. Because, frankly...

People, in general, are just too interesting to keep quiet about. Crazy is fascinating.

And judging people is way too good of a time.

This is a general round-up of everyone I don't know but spend arguably every waking minute of my life with. My stranger "family".

The man who gets Peet's with me every morning who puts an argyle sweater vest on his dog.

I will never understand people that put sweaters on their dogs. Maybe it's like having kids or something, and you just don't understand until you have one. Because right now, I'm lost. This guy, I tell you...this guy has at least 4 different argyle sweaters for his dog. Do you realize how WILDLY specific that is? I mean, he wears the same pair of shoes every day. That means that he'd rather his dog look sexually attractive to other dogs than he to other people. To be fair, a part of me thinks that America is a gigantic asshole and makes it really hard for gay guys to have or adopt children (which is terrible), so they get dogs and pamper the crap out of them as an outlet. It's their equivalent of Jew-momming a kid: putting an argyle sweater vest on a chihuahua.

The guy on the N-Judah who carries his entire life in plastic grocery bags, even though he also carries a backpack. Which is weird.

The man is like clockwork. Every morning, crazy-black-guy-with-a-pookah-shell-necklace gets on the bus and finds a way to be the loudest human being alive. Clearly isn't drunk, but almost looks like he's a pinball trying his hardest to hit every pole to stay active before he loses and has to sit down. He carries what appears to be 2,389 objects in about 14 plastic bags. Believe it or not, he has a REALLY hard time carrying all of these bags. Believe it or not, he seems to be really upset that he has a REALLY hard time carrying all of these bags. Best part: he also has a backpack on. I'm no mathematician or scientist, but i've calculated in my head about how much space his 2,389 trinkets and doo-dads would take up in his backpack. And the answer is "not enough to fill the entire backpack, rendering his plastic bags unnecessary". He also sings what appears to be either a song with choose-your-own-adventure lyrics, or a song that is not actually ever playing in the headphones he wears. Either way, it's kind of amazing.

The girl at the gym who wants you to know that she was in a sorority, because these are the only t-shirts she appears to own.

I've come to the conclusion that sororities are just Columbia House for t-shirts. There is a girl who goes to my gym who I see about four times a week. In about 6 months of membership at this gym, I have not once seen her wear the same t-shirt, and EVERY one is for a different sorority event. It's unreal. It's like this girl's life in college was just a sequence of events in which she was going to a party for "pimps and ho's"/"devils and angels"/"kegs and eggs," every single day. Which begs the larger question: what is the over/under on how many times this girl has heard the song "In Da Club" by 50 Cent? Facts about that joke that make it okay:

-The girl appears to be my age, so I can say that joke because when I went to college that song was on permanent repeat at any bad party you went to. Therefore, the joke is outdated, yet applicable to my exact time in college and would have been REALLY funny at the time.

- The girl is attractive. You can make fun of attractive girls, because they are attractive and therefore presumably do not have "real life problems". I say this in that, an attractive girl could be horrifically mean to me and because she was attractive, i'd probably find some way to validate why she was mean. This argument is also entirely further discussed in the film Blue Valentine, which I suggest you watch if you love films that are "So Real"/"Violently Fucking Depressing".

The girl who is calling everyone she knows, every day at the bus stop and telling them that her and Brian are moving in and the place is small but so cute.

Stop. This is impossible. How have you been moving in with Brian for the last year straight? I hear you have this conversation EVERY DAY OF YOUR LIFE. Did you write down everyone you know on a calendar, one on every day, and each day you call only one pretending that it's still the day you're moving in with Brian? Also: good call on not getting cable. I've been delighted to hear about how you're cutting costs that way. Every day of my life.

The guy who works at Ironside and knows the name of every human being who has ever ordered anything there and is arguably the nicest person in the world.

Everyone likes you. I just thought you should know. I wish I could grow a mustache like yours. And i'm being totally serious about every detail I just stated.

The guy in the apartment down from me who listens to Genie In A Bottle, but only the spanish version, really loud.

Why? Just...on so many levels, why? I'm lost for so many reasons, like:

- It's 2011.

- You are not hispanic.

- It's not Britney, bitch.

- It's 2011.

How did this start? When did you decide this was a good idea? It's so loud.

Me.

Because I'm batshit crazy. In the best way possible.

Rocket Shoes Mixtape 39: Songs That Sound Good When You're Overanalyzing Crazy People

Stream the whole thing at the link right above.

Or.

Download all the Mp3's here.

Drew Hoolhorst

San Francisco, CA 94110, USA

I have a black belt in feelings.