I Can Chip In The 54 Cents If That Helps

So I don't know if you've heard, but the economy isn't doing that well. You know how when you were a kid, and you were kind of bummed that you only had like twelve dollars to your name? Because that meant that you probably couldn't buy my buddy/kid sister? It kind of seems like EVERY business on the planet America woke up and thought, "oh shit, I only have like twelve bucks left." Except change my buddy/kid sister to "everything that makes the world work", and that's what people/businesses can't afford these days. This guy I know re-tweets the national debt every week (and by "guy I know" I mean this guy who's an "internet friend" who I met once at a company bowling party. I know, I'm awesome. Say it out loud) and right now, it's at $10,626,078,634,370.54 (I love the fifty four cents. Really? I mean, round up at that point). Honestly though. That sounds like a number I'd make up in middle school if someone told me I could charge them anything for my new Air Jordan's, and then we'd giggle at how silly of a number that was and I'd go be bad at sports in good shoes again. I know it's not funny at all. But the thing is, it's getting oddly hilarious what companies are cutting back these days. Did you hear the post office is thinking about not delivering the MAIL six days a week anymore? Just like, cutting back a day to save a little cash? Um, really? It's not as though my life would be over if my subscription to US Weekly took an extra day to show up (yeah, I have a subscription to US Weekly. Judge away), but the US Postal Service is cutting back? I just feel like that's a little alarming. I just find it ironic that it's gonna take longer for me to get the bills I have to pay now. Seems like maybe we should focus on some other things first. You know, like maybe we all just sit down and decide that just by default, it's unnecessary to light Las Vegas with 1.21 gigawatts every night. Maybe we could take the savings there from the guys who run Las Vegas (who clearly seem to have lots of moneys) and apply it to the national mail carrier. Just me, but I think it's worth a thought.

The best, though, is that we were all kind of wondering quietly if maybe Starbucks was making poor business decisions for a while here. You know, maybe it was unnecessary to open four hundred billion coffee shops. Just in general. Because there ARE blocks in NY where there are more than one Starbucks. And the last time I checked, i'm not ordering a large coffee (NOT A FUCKING VENTI, STARBUCKS. A LARGE), grabbing it, and immediately challenging someone to a death-hot beverage chugging contest so I could make sure I could hit up the Starbucks that is coming up in 500 feet again. Their business model seemed to be "really fucking bad" on a scale of "good" to "poor". Well I heard today they were going to close 300 stores, fire 6,000 store workers and fire another 700 corporate folks. While I think they could have made this decision a couple of years ago (honestly, how many people does it take to pour a cup of coffee/froth milk? 16 people per shift Starbucks? this seems aggressive), I just think it's crazy that the economy even has super-mega-conglomorate-globo-corporations (which is a real phrase) pissing in their pants and freaking out. I mean, how the hell are we supposed to feel when this is happening to STARBUCKS, people? Where are they going to be just like us anymore? I guess the grocery store. Until they close those, which wouldn't even shock me at this point. Honestly, if I woke up and heard "food" went out of business, I'd probably just mosey along and figure it's been awesome but I better start with the hunter-gathering.

I guess my point...while I never have one...is that this is pretty scary. And the root of it all is that I honestly woke up the other day and thought about the fact that anyone can lose their job at this point, and that this actually really scares me more than anything, because it got me thinking: I can't tie a tie. I'm screwed if I have to start interviewing again. And i'm being honest. Every formal event I've gone to? Someone ties it for me in front of a mirror, asks me if I got it, followed by me saying, "yeah totally." Then I fail to tie the tie. They stare at me with a look like, "really? were you listening at all?" Followed by me gazing back with a look that says, "Yes. Wait, but no." And then they tie it for me because I'm a big boy and I just act like I'm totally a grown up the whole night even though I know the truth... But if I gotta go back out there? I'm screwed. So here's hoping somebody figures something out. Or superman comes down to earth and punches the economy in the face after a GINORMOUS battle, thus sending it off to the planet Zorgon...which can't happen on so many levels both metaphorical and reality-wise, but it would be awesome nevertheless.

In other news, I got almost all of my facts from today's post from Perez Hilton. I am pretty sure this says a lot about me. But I'm also pretty sure that means I'm awesome.

I'll see you at the mailbox on Saturday when we're all standing outside pissed that US Weekly hasn't shown up yet. I'll be the one holding the fifty four cents.

If you can't grow a real one like a big boy...

Where was this woman when I was growing up? Any day now, I SHOULD be able to grow real facial hair. Until then, i'll continue to use "wow are you really THAT sensitive?" shaving cream and take 400 hours to shave three hairs on my face. Someday...a boy can dream...

Link Below = Genius

(thank you @Danielle_C for the link)

Don't Stop Believing: An Ode to the Mixtape

"The making of a great compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do. It takes ages longer than it might seem. You gotta kick it off with a killer to grab attention. Then you gotta take it up a notch. But you don't want to blow your wad. So then you gotta cool it off a notch. There are a lot of rules." -High Fidelity So, technology these days is kind of on a roll. Turns out you can do anything with magical future devices from the palm of your hand. I mean, buy food, buy a movie ticket AND select your seat (which causes some RIIIdiculously pretentious fights at the good old Kabuki theater between investment bankers in sweater vests), get streaming HD movies on FRIGGIN' demand. This revolution has probably been greater for the stoner race than any, as it has only furthered their progress on the "do not talk to anyone or look anyone in the eye" gameplan for life (really, this is a win-win. We give stoners the toys, they hide and don't bother anyone). Point being, every time a new technology comes out, it renders the old obsolete and strangely silly when you think back on it. Remember when you were a kid and you would record TV shows with a VHS player? I mean, the joke about setting your VCR is just ridiculous now, because lord knows the magical troll in my DVR always knows what time it is AND that I'd like it to record Gossip Girl, no matter how lacking in heterosexuality this is. Really though, there is no reason to go backwards in terms of technology, because the future devices and ideas taking over? Brilliant (even though I'm still waiting for the invention of the rocket shoe). Except for one.

It dawned on me the other day: What the hell happens to the mixtape/mix CD within the next few years? Is it on the verge of going extinct, like when you talk about how weird it is that people ACTUALLY used to get polio? Because telling me I lose the capability to use the mix tape in a friendly/romantic capacity is like telling me that I have to go fight in a war but I can only jump kick and slap people and everyone else gets guns. And guns with like, lasers and future gamma rays I don't even know about yet, just that it would really hurt if I were to be hit by one. No but seriously, we are at the brink, truly, where there is going to be a legitimate paradigm shift once and for all in the music industry. You just don't go out and buy an album these days. For the most part, the digital world has finally dominated and now that's where you get your music. There will be no more CD's, really...even burnables.

Sure, it seems ridiculous at start. But if tapes disappeared as fast as they did (I still, to this day, remember my first cassette single, "whoomp there it is"...no shame, no shame), aren't CD's just around the corner here? Think about it. People give people mixes now, and people essentially take that and just rip it to their computer. That's the logical step, so that you can get it on your iPod as fast as possible. You know why? Because they barely sell personal, portable music devices that actually play physical media anymore. Think about the Discman. That device now seems like pong or something.

What scares me is that this means the logical next step is people simply wanting it faster. Sending each other the files, giving them a flash drive with the songs on it; this all seems like the creepy, heartless logical next step. Sadly? This absolutely terrifies me and concerns me. The mixtape is friggin sacred. Seriously. Do you know HOW many girls I've tried to woo with this device? This is how I GAUGE my interest in a girl. How badly do I want to make that mix? What are the themes, lyrical angles, concepts I'm looking to portray through the 18 or so tracks? In high school and college, Ben Harper meant, "I would really love it if we could take off our clothes sometime." Later, I would get better at the art of mystery. For instance, what DOES that Broken Social song mean? Huh? Is it forward? Or highly metaphorical? GOD I want to get up and shimmy thinking about the joys of the mixtape. Do you know how many friends I've stayed in touch with through mixes named things like"There's no chicks here, there's not even any chips?" Honestly. Telling me I can't make a mix is like telling me I'm not allowed to eat food anymore. It's like telling me I can only write with my left hand from now on. Which is REALLY hard, and usually causes me to REALLY focus on my r's and a's. I'm an overly emotional, whiney guy who awkwardly lunges at girls through music. What the eff am I going to do now?

Basically, the Lloyd Dobler/Rob Gordon in me is sad. Am I about to lose my sword? My go-to, overly-emotional romantic gesture? How do I get girls now? Because I'm certainly not getting them with my huge pecs and striped shirts at the bars. If it's over, I want a mourning party where tons of people show up and everyone brings a mix and we all lay it down to rest:

"Hey guys. My name is Drew, and uh, I'm here today to share my last physical mix with you, entitled "Oh I'm sorry, did your pants just get rocked off?" It's got some great '08 stuff but I went a tad old school also and threw on a little retro for the good old days. Didn't seem right to not put yankee hotel on there, you know? Excuse me, I...I need a minute..."

I know, I know. There is the website mix (muxtape, opentape) and I just tried it out. It's at the end of the post, and I get that it's a great way to melt peoples faces off. It's still fantastic, but it's just not the same. The personal mixtape? It's legitimately telling someone you give a crap and HONESTLY spent a lot of time on them. I can describe the reason for any placement of any song on any mix I've ever made. And I ALWAYS know where I'm putting the Aberfeldy song, even though it only makes rare appearances. Further, I can describe the theoretical meaning I was going for as well. Seriously. I go into this KNOWING that these songs are full-on memories I'm begging to create with someone. Sharing music with someone to me is like showing them what I look like with my underpants on: I'm trusting you here. Sigh. Who knows when it's all truly over. But if it's soon? I'm Mel in Braveheart. I will hand these mixes out until I can't do it anymore. Because I can't let the dream die. In the words of the great Steve Perry, don't stop believing.

Click below to listen to my first pass at a truly online "digital" mix. Be gentle, this is my first time...

"Now, the making of a good compilation tape is a very subtle art. Many do's and don'ts. First of all, you're using someone else's poetry to express how you feel. This is a delicate thing."

EMOTING YOUR FACE OFF, ONE DAY AT A TIME (a mix by andrew hoolhorst)

Apple Introduces Accidental iRacist!

So whilst watching the new apple keynote this morning, a few thoughts dawned on me, which were all ENTIRELY terrible…but funny I think.

So apple just brought out iWork and iLife ‘09. I kind of love that they could throw “i” in front of anything and I will buy it. Not only that, i’ll feel like the most adorable human being on the planet in the process. I mean, this is the company that made SOCKS for iPods. Wow. What scares me more is that this means there was presumably an iPod sock market out there. Which at least makes me feel better about some of the purchases i’ve made in my lifetime (re: box of foot warmers in college. of which I used one. awesome). Anyways, the most awesomely creepy thing that came out in all of this was a new iPhoto that can digitally scan people’s faces so that in the future, it knows who they are and can tag photos accordingly. Which brings me to my point.

Get ready for a million awkward posts about how badly iPhoto biffs it. And by this I mean accidentally is racist or cruel towards all your friends. Seriously, THINK about how many “FAIL” opportunities there are here. A list that co-workers and I have come up with:

- Do you have asian friends or are you asian yourself? Because I have a feeling that when it screws up and labels two asian guys the exact same person in your entire photo library, it’s not that funny. Or it is kind of. I’m not sure yet. Wait, yeah it is. Don’t worry, i’ll insult my own people soon to make up for this. Stay with me.

- It will be ultimately hilarious when it thinks that your dorky white guy hipster friend is a black dude or something, or vice versa. These posts will be rampant, I almost guarantee it (you just got the Men’s Wearhouse ads in your head all day. You know what’s funny? I NEVER saw that it was “wearhouse” instead of “warehouse” before I just googled that. You’re so CLEVER George Zimmer…)

- What about when it can’t recognize a photo of my profile vs. a front facing shot of me? Do you know why I ask this question? Because i’m Jewish. And honestly? My nose is just two different beasts from two different angles. Forward facing? I could definitely be your catholic best friend. Profile? Umm…i’m definitely Jewish.

- Here’s a good one: what about ugly people and/or children being labeled as the family pet? C’mon, that’s funny. I mean, if it thinks the dog is actually Sarah the ugly chick who hangs out with the hot chick because hot chicks always flank themselves with at least one ugly girl to make themselves look better? That’s funny.

- Finally, this one isn’t racist…but I think it’s funny. I don’t think sorority girls (or just girls from the state of Arizona in general, as I’m convinced they are building an aryan race there…) can use the new iPhoto. You know why? Because of the sorority girl “let’s all totally take a picture together!” picture. This one. Yeah, you know exactly what i’m talking about. Sorority girls go to bars and take 412 pictures of them awkwardly smiling in front of a bar. Either with a drink in their hands, or making a silly face. And honestly? Every night looks exactly the same. iPhoto has its work cut out for itself if it thinks it can in any way differentiate these people or these nights. The only luck it has on its side is geo-tagging, which will at least help it understand that no, that is NOT the same bar Cindy and Mindy are at.

Anyways, to say i’m excited about the ENDLESS posts all over the web about this is a vast understatement. Keep in mind I also think Apple is brilliant and love them and want to have their babies even though it’s not possible. But really, get ready for software to become the most insulting person in the US. I predict a lot of ugly girls crying at who iPhoto thinks they really are.

It's Everything But Me, I Have a Laser Rocket Arm and Other Short Stories

So i've got a general stance in life: everything that goes wrong is someone else's fault, and there is SOME way that I can complain/be melodramatic about it. It works, seriously. I believe this dates back to when I didn't get to be in little league as a kid. Did I ask my mother if I could be on a team? No. Of course I didn't. Have I let her off the hook for the last eighteen plus years about this fact? No. No I have not. You know why? Because it's her fault that I didn't ask her to put me on a team. I thought I was getting the message across. You know, throwing tennis balls at the garage for FOUR YEARS STRAIGHT. Talking to myself in pure play-by-play fashion, discussing how "Hoolhorst's arm is really tired because he's thrown 126 pitches this outing". Watching baseball all the time. It's cool though. I didn't want to be the next Lincecum (because it's clear I would have been. You should have SEEN me shrugging off the invisible catcher's signals so I could throw only 102mph fastballs right down the plate..and my PITCH PLACEMENT...wow). I didn't want to get throngs of women on the sole fact that I threw a ball fast. Nah. I was much more intent on being the kid who talked to himself in his front yard alone while wearing a helmet and chewing crayons (I'm not sure if this is a fact, but it's melodramatic, so it seems to fit with the theme well). Point being, it's her fault.

I bring this up because I've been trying to think of what to write about lately. I've sat here for days (I know, I know, over a month's worth, i'm a bad blogger), and everything I come close to writing? I blow it off and talk later about how GREAT this idea was that I had for a post, but blame something else for why I did not write this. Thought process:

Drew's Inner Monologue: "THERE it is! I'll write about how I have tons facebook friends, yet only hang out with like, two dudes! Nah, some guy wrote about that in the Times, even though it was a shitty article and mine would have been better. I know, Drew, you ARE the best! Anyways, what about the McDonald's "What are you, Nuggnuts?" campaign? I mean, what does that even mean? Is it an insult, a simple statement of character, a challenge? Can I write 1000/2000 words on this? Eh, not enough there. How about the fact that I'm too sensitive and this makes me a pain in the ass to deal with sometimes! Wait, I'd be too sensitive about writing about being too sensitive and then if someone DID say it was a valid post, I'd be even more sensitive about that. Man, people are assholes. Fuck it. I'm gonna go get a bottle of wine and watch 30 Rock. You're so SMART, Tina Fey...I wonder if she's single or if she's gonna get divorced soon...she'd totally agree about the nuggnuts thing."

So, as has been the trend with Rocket Shoes all too often, I've been slacking on writing. And this is odd, because this has become far and away my favorite pass time, even more so than blaming other people for my problems! As mentioned before, I take you guys out on remarkable dates (patting myself on the back and trying not to fall too hard in love with myself...) and then dump you without any explanation.  But it's not my fault. It turns out the economy got shanked in the back alley and if I'd like to keep a job, I can't just write witty, pointless banter on a blog all day while ignoring responsibility (which is how this basically started) and have to contribute to the company that employs me. I know, right? What fucking nerve. Also, I just get lazy and don't want to write at night, which again isn't my fault, I just can't think of why not (but it'll come to me).

See? See what I did there? I rationalized why I've been lazy! And I made my sound employment the issue! GOD i'm good! I knew it wasn't my fault! Phew. On that note, I am going to make a concentrated effort to write more. I'm in good shape to do so, as I write much better when I'm either heartbroken or depressed about mundane shit that isn't worthy of actually complaining about. You know, like the fact that I get heartburn sometimes. Or that my DVR keeps screwing up and is not recording episodes of Fringe (shhhh...you know you kinda wanna watch that show. ADMIT IT. PACEY FROM DAWSONS CREEK PEOPLE. PACEY!). Or that that hot chick on the bus keeps ignoring my countless efforts of wooing her by not saying anything to her at all, and rather relying on the fact that I figure she just knows that we're perfect for each other and that she wants to have 10,000 of my babies and that our dog would be called Hank. So hey, with all that in play, I figure I got some time to write.

I'd like to personally thank Daisy, a girl whom I've never met who I find way too funny. By writing this, I officially become a plethora of things:

a) creepy

b) creepy


c) creepy

But I was threatened that if I didn't blog more, she wouldn't link here. And honestly? This made me sad and pretentiously concerned...SO pathetically sad and pretentiously concerned because I like writing and I love when people say nice things to me because i'm cheap and easy and love to blush at compliments pretending that they don't make me feel fantastic. Even if it wasn't a compliment at all? I'm taking it that way. Because if it wasn't one, I can at least complain about it later or find something else to be melodramatic about. Which ironically then makes me write more, which helps it all come full circle. But honestly, please read her. She's funnier than the movie Clue. And that movie was really funny. Okay enough complimentary talk about someone I don't know and enough creepy for one day.

The song of the day is by Atmosphere, and is self explanatory. Sometimes I listen to it and wonder if the white rapper in me wrote this in my sleep one day, because he complains more than anyone on the planet but me (and believe me, there is a FIERCE white rapper in me. My flows are silly). And...wait for it...I TOTALLY get him, man! You are SO right, pal! Keep on complaining about girls and life, and I will keep buying the shit out of your records. Because hey, fuck it...it's everything but me. Let's high five and cry together.

On that note? Good talk, see you out there. My mom's new dog looks like Falkor from The Neverending Story. And I love you all. K bye.


Bromancing In Fantasy Land

I am the least athletically inclined athletic person I know. Now...I use the term "athletic" loosely. This means, basically, that I'm not in a wheelchair and could probably run a couple miles if it was forced upon me. Well maybe a mile, and i'd probably complain afterwards. And I can shoot a basketball with horrible form and no spin whatsoever, but it often has a very good chance of going in inexplicably. But anyways. The irony of this statement is that all I ever want to do is watch or talk about sports. Ask me to play football on Sunday? Absolutely not, I’m busy/my foot hurts/my dog died/I have glaucoma. Ask me to watch football on Sunday? Done and done. As long as I don't PERSONALLY have to play? Of course! I'd love to critique people who are incredibly active and athletic and talk about what they could be doing better! I'll rattle off ungodly amounts of useless stats about that guy who just came in as the third down back. I'll even tell you his backup's backup. I bring this up because of what fantasy sports have done not only in my life, but in the general male population at large. While it has made a bunch of guys who USED to play sports lazy asses, It has also oddly created a level of bromance in the world that is unprecedented. Fantasy football has made softies out of men all across the land. Especially the lazy ones. Like myself. I'm sick for fantasy sports. And before you start, YES, I am aware of how "lame" they are and how ridiculous it is (and by lame I mean how stupid you are for thinking they are lame. Yes, you). Yes, I select 12 guys to play sports for me so that I don't have to. I follow them, I get upset when they get hurt because I wouldn't have rolled MY fucking ankle if I was out there running for us...and I CERTAINLY wouldn't have shot up that nightclub with my friends, as I would have known the suspension that would have loomed over my head (jax, jax, jax...). I relentlessly follow these guys, so I can make fun of the guy I'm playing that week because he didn't have MY guys who are playing MY sports for me, and that his played sports worse for him. I know all of these facts. And oddly, I’m okay with them.

So a few years back though, I felt lonely with my team. I don't know...maybe because they weren't real people I could talk to and I was yelling aimlessly at a computer screen (which is healthy). Only a shot in the dark there. But on a random whim, my brother and I decided that we would start drafting a team together about three years ago. This way, we could not actually play sports with other people...together. And here's the best part: it's been a strange glue that holds us together. Sure, there was plenty of brotherly love before fantasy Dualhorst Hoolhorst was born (not the name of our team, but as of this moment it SHOULD be in contention starting next year). I mean, my brother has always been my best friend. Even when he threw the Joe Montana Sports Talk Football genesis cartridge at my head when we were younger. Which, ironically, was the mode of fake sports I played back then. Wow. But I genuinely look forward to our fantasy sports dorkus drafts. We make huge evenings of them. We bring over notes (no i'm serious, we may as well have a whiteboard we can write on during the draft, we are THAT in denial that this is not a real draft), we have honest discussions about gameplans and how we'd like to focus our strategy this year. Honestly, i'm not quite sure how Adam's girlfriend takes it so well while not being seriously worried about her long-term boyfriend when him and his brother are chestbumping and high fiving because they "drafted" a "sleeper" in the 9th round of their fantasy draft. Yes, that really happens. But yes...I look forward to these nights every year. And after I leave his place? I'll probably call him in a few hours to talk about waiver wire pickups we should look into, trades we might want to make...and just generally how awesome we are for how we well we fake drafted our fake team. The funny thing is though...that we genuinely bond over this.

We'll hang out more often and watch sports together. We'll end up talking all the time and laughing at how outrageous our psyche's have gotten, because we are ridiculous and truly hurt when our team loses. We often lament about not playing that tight end last weekend (that's what she said...had to, sorry), we wonder if the Housh trade was the right move or if we were just trading for a name. We'll get angry with each other over opinions of who should be starting on our squad that week...I mean, these are all serious issues in my life now. Honestly. But the best part is? Fantasy sports took something ridiculous (which would be, uh, fantasy sports) and found a way to make bromance cool AND totally okay again. You know how in real sports when a guy makes a good play, and his teammate runs up and smacks him on the ass, as if to say, "hey buddy, good job out there"? Fantasy sports has given me the dork equivalent of being able to do this without actually being athletic...or just look like I'm hitting another dude's ass randomly. Instead, if Adam makes a good pickup? I can gush about it to him. About how smart he is, how proud I am to be a co-owner with him, because he had the foresight that it just wasn't LT's week and we should play Julius Jones no matter how ridiculous that looks on paper. I mean, I can honestly bromance it up, and it is in no way gay at all. All because we fake play sports together. Brilliant.

So if something ridiculous can bring my brother and I closer and make us spend more time together? I mean, no matter how loser-ish it is, what's so wrong with that? On that note, I have to go study up, as we have a fantasy basketball draft tonight. And after that? We're watching Starship Troopers 3, so we can then pretend that we are fake future soldiers that shoot laser beams at things. Because that's what brothers should do together: stupid shit they've been doing since they were kids. And I think fantasy sports got us back there. And I couldn't be more excited about it. Unless Anne Hathaway randomly wanted to do me tonight. Then I'd probably tell him fantasy sports are for losers and never call him again.

Breaking Up (on facebook) Is Hard To Do (and awkward)

So it's been a while since I've written. I know...you missed me. I missed you too, sweetheart! It's like I went out on all these cute dates with people who read the blog, and then just stopped calling one day out of the blue. I mean really cute dates. I got the door for you, we shared desserts, you laughed when I got a bit of it on my nose and we giggled. We both agreed that skinny jeans are ridiculous, and that most people who wear them are trying too hard. And I said, "No I like you..." and you said, "no I like YOU!" and then we did this back and forth for 3 minutes. And then giggled again. And then we awkwardly made out in the car and the seatbelts got in the way, but we laughed because my elbow hit the horn and that guy got scared when he was walking by. Yeah guys, our dates were that cute. You were SURE I was going to meet your parents, and we'd get married and have a million babies (or you would just read my blog and I'd keep writing). But then I was just a huge dick. And I stopped writing...and didn't even give you an explanation. Ew. Who does that? Well, I took a little "timeout". I took what we will call a little "depression sabbatical". Yeah, I made that term up, but it works. You know why? Because breaking up fucking sucks, and all you do is feel sorry for yourself and tell everyone how hard it is and how "they don't understand." That's not obnoxious or anything. Sorry to about 42 people on that one...turns out the world isn't over and I'm fine now. So instead of writing about this everyday for about a month and some, I thought...uh...maybe i'd just sit this one out until I didn't hate life. Annnnnnnnd we're back.

So I shot myself in the foot. When I was living in gross-disgusting-OH-MY-GOD-MY-LIFE-IS-SO-FUCKING-CUTE-land, I decided that I would just broadcast the shit out of it (I say this as I write an entirely self serving blog...). I mean, you're dating a hot girl. She's nice. You want to talk about it. It's like people with babies. They just do things that are obnoxious that only they like, but they think you want to hear about it. You know, they put an oversized hat on a baby, and then say, "oh my god, the baby looks funny because it's wearing an oversized hat! let's take a picture and send it to 267 people! I bet they want to see my baby in this hilarious oversized hat!" But you don't want to see the baby in the oversized hat. You actually think the baby looks weird. Because babies look like aliens. And then it has spit all over its face. And weird crap on it's nose. And actually, the baby just looks ugly with an oversized hat on. So the moral? I go through a breakup, and realize that the oversized hat pictures are everywhere. And the cute commentary? Everywhere. It's plastered on facebook walls...myspace comments (which is a dirty mini-mall I refuse to visit anyways, so this breakup was also like breaking up with myspace, so I've got that going for me. It's like finding out I cured myself of crabs or something)...flickr pages. Shit, every nerd avenue on the planet? I was vomiting cuteness on it. I mean, it was fantastic during the grand run of it. But then all of the sudden...you've set up an obstacle course of pain for yourself when it ends.

You can't just breakup anymore. I guess this doesn't apply to everyone...but I feel like most people have "this" life I just explained on social networks. Before? You call a girl, tell her she sucks and you're over it, and then you lose her number. And if she went to Menlo? You never really have to see her again because you go to M-A (cough*cough*SHELBY*cough*cough). But now? My GOD man...there's no escape. You break up. Then you think, "welp...I guess I should hide or erase the nine billion pictures I have on my computer and all my accounts so I don't cry and eat two whole pizzas everytime they come up and catch me off guard"...but then you have this conflict, because you aren't REALLY over the breakup for that first week. So you leave them (this is a horrible mistake. don't do this. run. run for your life away from these things), and then you try to "ignore" them. Which is slang for waiting until you are a bottle of wine deep and decide the best idea right now is to stab your feelings in the face by looking at these pictures. But oh wait it gets better...you're still "friends" on facebook! So guess what, slugger...facebook will just do the hard work for you and crush your soul whenever it feels like it! Facebook is just that really shitty friend who doesn't get it:

Facebook: "Hey Drew, did you see that your ex-girlfriend is totally loving life right now? No i'm serious, that's her status update right now. No, seriously, look! It's right here! It says "(fill in ex's name here) is totally loving life right now! Also, who's that Mark guy that she just became friends with? Yeah whoa, at 1am...sounds pretty...nevermind...Well, I mean, I know who he is...but I guess you probably want to do some sleuth work huh? Well, that makes you creepy. Okay bye for now! I'll be back in an hour when her new status update says that she's going out drinking tonight with 'new' friends...mysterious right? Hope it's a date she's going on! Anyways, later."

So you do this unspoken thing. For a few weeks, you write YOUR status messages as some elusive "hidden message". Why? Because you are ridiculous and 12 years old. And you think that EVERYONE cares as much about what you are writing as you do. (Hint: they don't)

Drew Hoolhorst had a CRAZY night last night...

Drew Hoolhorst is wondering what he was doing at 3am....when he was with tons of chicks. TONS of chicks...last night. (aren't you wondering what drew was doing at 3am? he'd tell you. you know, if you still wanted to talk. he still loves you...wait nevermind)

Drew Hoolhorst feels fine. No seriously. Really great. He can't believe HOW much he's moved on and is totally just like, hooking up with hot chicks left and right again!

Also, make sure to go through the awkward part where you have to no longer "list yourself as in a relationship". Those emails you get are going to be fun. No, that's not awkward at all. But you know what? You were the asshole who listed yourself as in a relationship. Yeah, you, Drew. So stop whining about it. The point being...

Breaking up on Facebook is hard to do. It's awkward, and it makes a normal breakup about nine billion times harder. And I'd say it set me back way more than a breakup would have back in the day. It made me a big fucking Eyore, and it sucked. But it's over. And one day you DO wake up, and the cliches ARE true. You feel fine again, you find out everything happened for a reason, some things were problems you didn't even know about so it's good you broke up...blah, blah, blah. Oh, and you get over it. In general. So that's nice. Being depressed sucks. Remind me not to do that again.

And here's the kicker: You look at girls again a few weeks later, and you think, "Wait, she's REALLY attractive. Can I call her? I CAN??!? And she'd "date" me?? Well why didn't anyone tell me this shit, I would have stopped sitting in a dark room eating cheez-its while crying a LONG time ago if I knew this was going to happen." And then, ironically, all you want to do is talk about THAT girl. And all of the sudden you are doing it all over again. And the irony feels so good, you just start it all over again. So that's hysterical.

So sorry for the break. I hope you are still reading, because i'm gonna try my darndest to win your hearts back. I didn't want to break up. It's not you, it was me. But I'm cool now. I think I'm the funniest person in the world again. And my music taste is impeccable. So let's get the shit kicked out of us by love.

The song of the day is happy. Because I'm happy again, so I thought i'd go for the lowest common denominator. And if you don't like Vampire Weekend, it's probably because everyone and their mother told you to about them 4 months ago and you got annoyed and decided not to be a follower. Get over it. They make music that sounds like magic tricks and gummy bears. And I'd like to think this song is a clear gummy bear. Re: The best gummy bear of all time.

SIDENOTE: Isn't it ironic that this whole post is about not blasting out your life because it may be weird later after you reveal too much, and that's all I'm doing the entire time? I feel pretty good about it. YES WE CAN!


Things To Do In Menlo Park When You Are Dead


So I woke up on a street corner at 4am in Menlo Park this weekend. True story.

I'm still trying to figure out what was going on in drunk drew's head. There are MILLIONS of questions here, probably starting with "why did you fall asleep on a street corner at 4am this weekend in Menlo Park." I've put the story back together through many renditions and follow up research through many sources, so I think I finally have it down.

So, it's probably never a good idea to drink a glass of champagne to start the evening with a raspberry in it. I mean, just on a lot of levels. This is not going to give you any image you were probably striving for at the wedding. You know, like "I like girls." What I've also discovered is that the waiters at the Circus Club (where the reception was held) will pour wine until you can't feel feelings anymore. Honestly, those guys are GUNNERS. Take a sip, BAM, he's poured aggressively for you again. Next sipHE'SALREADYPOUREDAGAIN. "Wait sir, that was my fifteenth glass, I think I just need to slo.." POURED AGAIN. So this is probably where the sound mindset I acquired for the rest of the night came into play. Fast forward to leaving the reception (after cleverly switching to vodka tonics, which were obviously gonna keep the night going, and/or make me not be able to open my left eye by 9pm), and our crew cleverly decides to go to the bar that has zero rules whatsoever.

Soooo, begin the fratastic flip cup tournament. Which lasted about one hour longer than I needed to be drinking glasses of beer over and over again. My first sign of "maybe we should call it a night" begins here, where Kevin and Dave go shirtless for no other reason...well no good reason, and decide to wear their ties around their heads like Rambo. Now here's where my favorite part begins.

Dave's girlfriend tells me that I should sit tight, and that a cab is coming in ten minutes. I say, "that sounds great!" and then uh, just wander off down the street for no apparent reason. This is my fourteenth awesome decision of the night. After walking/trying to run, then realizing I don't want to run at all and walking again for about 3 minutes, I randomly get into a car of two high school chicks. No, seriously. I don't even ask who they are, I just assume that this is of course the "drew hoolhorst" shuttle going to the precise location I was aiming for. Good thinking Drew! Next time make sure they are holding a butterfiinger outside of the car and run after it! I then proceed to drink more (why do people do this?) at Patrick's house, until I realize it's 3:30 and everyone has either gone home or passed out. So, being about a mile or so away from home, I opt to obviously make that next walk instead of sleeping on one of the 9,142 beds or couches at said comfortable house I'm already at. High five, Drew!

So in walking home about a block, I realize, inevitably, that I don't want to walk home at 3:30 in the morning, because it's really far and walking has made me realize that I'm JUST not going to sober up anytime soon. I have evidence on the phone that at this point I google search yellow cab in menlo park (you know, since yellow cab or ANY cab company in the world is either 777-7777 or 333-3333), and call them for the pickup. I sit down on the corner and wait for the cab.

Fast forward thirty minutes later to the part where there is a cop nudging me as I'm laying face down on the street corner, full suit and tie. Strangely, I don't even find this all that odd and keep professing that, "I was doing the right thing! I had the right intentions!" even though I have no idea what this really means. Since i'm a big boy grownup and am clearly wearing my big boy pants, I give the cop my mom's phone number (26 years old...um...) and he drives me home. Upon arrival at casa de angry mother who kind of hates me, I proceed to now tell her that I was "doing the right thing! I had the right intentions!" When she asks where my jacket is that i'm mysteriously not wearing, I let her know that "I left it at my other house." Um, what? Really Drew? Now the best part.

Upon waking up, I asked my mom how the cop found me. She informs me that he was called by a cab driver, who drove to the corner of Santa Cruz Ave. and Olive Ave. and found a guy face down on the street corner. He honked a bunch, but it appeared, "the kid was dead." So yes, this weekend I was pronounced dead by Yellow Cab. But you know what? The way I see it? I'm the real winner, because all I wanted was a ride home. Not only did I GET that ride home, but it was free! AND I got to nap in between! DOUBLE WIN! I wish everyone was as smart as me.

So the moral of the story is: If you want a ride home, just call a cab, pretend to die on the side of a road and wait for the cops to come. Make sure to tell them that you are doing the right thing and that your intentions are good, and always leave your jacket at your other house. Oh, and have them call your mom. This will let everyone know how much of a big boy you are.

In other news, things are going pretty well right now. Prrreetttty well....

The song of the day is by the greatest thing Canada has ever birthed. Tokyo police club could hit a stick on an empty plastic cool whip container and yell "la la la tacos!" and I'd think it was the best song anyone ever made. Honestly, I challenge them to do this, I will spend 99 cents on the single. That's a promise. They don't have a bad song that i've found to this day, but this one just gets better and better with time. Enjoy. Oh, and thanks, random police officer. I owe you a ride sometime.


Genius Life Button and a Song

So I got to thinking last night, and I think Apple is onto something but they need to take it to the next level. I mean, they basically are Motherbrain from Metroid these days (NERD01101NERD01001NERD), so I think it's possible for them to do this and I want it to happen. So this genius thing? Awesome. No, not the geniuses in the store, they are just glorified half-nerds who should be working at subway but instead got their cute little genius shirts to sit there and mock us all day long at the Apple store. The genius option I speak of is the one now in iTunes. They basically integrated pandora into iTunes... kudos, you cute little appleoids, you. Now, even on the iPhone when you are listening to a song, the little genius button appears and taunts you to hit it.

iPhone: "Oh hey Drew. That song is really good, I mean... I guess. If you are a loser. What? No I didn't say anything. Anyways. You know what would be better though? No I mean, not to pry. Oh nevermind...oh wait you do want to hear what I have to say? Oh okay. Then how about these 13 songs? I know, perfect right? What can I say. I was made at Apple headquarters, also known as nerd heaven. K, later."

So here's what i'm thinking: what if you were in the process of calling someone, and apple set up an option where you could hit the genius button in THIS situation? I KNOW. AWESOME. Basically, your phone could say, "whoa whoa...I mean, I like Ashley just as much as you do...but I did some research in your phone book and her phone book, and here is a list of friends i've come up with that would be a better conversation at this point. No, Drew, trust me, it's gonna be way better and I think you'd be better off just calling these people. Call Sarah first, but then be sure to call Erica next. Oh man, that one's gonna be awesome. Remember, i'm iPhone. I've seen the future. Robots take over, but we'll get to that later. Oh, and remember this: peaches shaped like octagons...it'll make more sense later...IT'LL MAKE MORE SENSE LATER."

Think about it...personally? I don't make good life decisions it turns out. Right now i'm living alone in my apartment looking for a roommate and my rent is too expensive, and I juuuust keeeeeep on buying 34x32 jeans when I KNOW i'm a 34x30. On top of that, I continue to eat cheeze-its when I know they just aren't gonna make me feel that good. And really, Drew, 3 DAYS before you can shave. Or else it's going to look like you got in a battle royale with wolverine again. And he kicked your face's ass...like you didn't even get a punch in, you just took it like a chump. So why not just give in all together and let Apple make my life decisions as well at this point? I know Steve has the technology in there somewhere. I swear they are making dolphins that make music underwater right now through iSonar, AMONGST other things, but that's a whole different theory of mine. Okay I'll stop, but point being...c'mon Steve, give us the life genius button. I know it exists.

The song of the day, my friends, is essentially one you would hear me moronically howling out of my car or apartment if you were ever in the neighborhood. But you aren't, so you don't. If you were though? Howlling. I think most people hate it, but I mean, talk about a song about making a comeback and pulling your shit together. And the guy is just a total whambulance like myself, so I enjoy a fellow whiner. Eh Eh Eh Eh Eh Eh Eh....here's to you, Born Ruffians. You are making this little jew sing again. And he needs it. And that "eh eh" part a sentence back makes no sense unless you actually listen to the song. MINDGAMES, HA! K bye.


Repowering the Rockets

Dear Everyone, If you read the blog regularly....and I think this is like 6 of you (hey, better than "not 6", right?)...I apologize for my disappearing act. Let's face it, I was just Cameron Frye of Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Mikey from Swingers...I don't know, fill in your "whatever guy in whatever movie who is kinda a bummer, doesn't bathe and doesn't shave for a bit" guy...and that was me. But I'm working on it. I've shaved. I've gotten a haircut (which, in turn, was a partial WTF when said haircutter tells me i'm not balding but...i'm balding...sweet! That helps!). And you know what? I'm not dead. But as we all know, very well, breakups are hard and they make you:

1) EXTREMELY not funny

2) Believe that the only programming on television is:

  • ch 702: Everyone is in love!
  • ch 703: No, Seriously, EVERYONE is in love!
  • ch 704: Wait, are you bummed right now because you just broke up? How about this program about love!
  • ch 705: Oprah
  • ch 706: Honestly. You should think more. Are you thinking enough? If not, overanalyze everything, Drew!
  • ch 707: Have we mentioned that it's a bummer you just went through a breakup?

3) Kinda bummed out and just wanting a second to yourself

But hey, we're gonna be okay, fellow rocketeers. Life goes on, everything happens for a reason, fill in metaphor for life here. And we are slowly, SLOWLY finding ways to mock society again and find irony in everything we see over on my side of the Bay. And I look forward to not being a big effing Eyore here very soon. Thanks for the support, and thanks for hopefully still reading when i'm back in action in...which I think is tomorrow. Rocket Shoes for me is like Sex In The City for girls...it's annoying to everyone else that they like it so much, but you don't complain because it makes them so happy and keeps them occupied. Wait, what? Insult, TO MYSELF. YES WE CAN!

On that note, to hopefully bring the funny back, I'd like to point out a wonderfully confusing grammar fail my brother mentioned to me the other day that I finally had the fortune of seeing. And also, i'm posting a song that is, in theory, not only AMAZING...but it's my anthem right now. Swedes know how to rock. Bring me home, Sweden. Bring me home.


Drew Hoolerific Hoolhorst


Random Thoughts For Today

The movie "Disaster Movie" makes me want to kick people in the shins. Not because of seen it, but because it exists. They aren't even TRYING to make sense anymore, they are just putting a bunch of unfunny things together for the creation of an entire film. It's like producers went to a frat house and grabbed the guy who thinks wayans brothers movies are funny and asked him to write an entire script. I mean, "amywinehouse kindacurrentevent juno! baby hulk!" isn't funny. That though process, being made into a sketch? Not funny. Make another movie again, and I will seriously come to your house, ring your doorbell, punch you in the face and then leave immediately. Maybe i'll try to pee on your front porch, but i'll get stage fright, realize I can't and just leave. That may happen, too. I think what scares me the most is that it has made ten million dollars. I did the math, and I could have bought like 2,857,143 jamba juices with that. Which means that for the next 7,287 years I could have one jamba juice every day. Which, for all those keeping score at home, is not possible, you are right. Point being, we could all be drinking a lot of jamba with the money this movie is making. Somebody make the bad man stop. The bus passed a store titled "Hair Now" today. I thought this was a horrible name for a store, as I don't think that if I asked for hair now, they would give it to me. So hey, guess what hair now, you don't make any sense. (ba dum CHING! definitely the seinfeldism of the day, sorry. humor me.)

I'm severely bothered by the Cialis commercials on TV, and really, it's only because of that one scene where they are sitting in bathtubs gazing out at the ocean. This is impossible. On so many levels, this perplexes me. First of all, old people are NOT flexible enough to be having sex in small bathtubs. If you can't get an erection? It's probably time to stop trying to have sex in complicated positions in general in small confined areas. Secondly, they aren't in the same bathtub together, and I find that depressing. But finally...HOW did the hot water get in that bathtub? There is NO water hookup, and if hot water did somehow magically get in there? It's VERY cold now. They are old, they would be very cold. The sea breeze alone would send them into hypothermic chills. C'MON cialis...think things THROUGH before making your ED commercials.

There is a McDonald's commercial on right now that talks about how you can't get anything for a buck anymore. I mean, valid. So the guy deals with all these things that he can't get for a buck. But wait a minute...what about McDonald's? They tell him he can get a chicken sandwich there for a buck, alright! PROBLEM SOLVED! But WAIT a minute...right after this, he has fries and a coke as well. Oh, really McDonald's? Well, if Bob had been asking other places what he could have gotten for $3.74, maybe he would have gotten a different answer, now wouldn't he have? I call bullshit on you. Also, don't forget to add in the five extra dollars he'll need for the diarrhea medication he'll need after eating your products. Thanks.

On my fantasy football team, my tight end is injured and he is thinking of taking a couple of weeks off. I would like to call him into my fantasy office to have a fantasy conversation about how he should fantasy buck the fuck up because i'm going to lose the sport i'm having him play for me. It was hard enough for me to draft someone whose parents were mean enough to name him "Dallas", now I have to go find another person to play the sport for me so I don't have to.

The song of the day is delicious and poptastic, and I just found it yesterday and have listened to it and it alone for like 9 hours straight. Enjoy.


Obama vs. Old Man River/That Dying Guy

So here's the thing: I really like Barack Obama, and I don't really like republicans, in general. I know, I know..."you're perpetuating the partisan problem by simply using a blanket statement when not all republicans are the same!" Fair enough. Um, I just don't care though. You guys elected the dumbest human being into office two times in a row, and the rest of the world basically hates us now because of it. Just on principal? This makes me really not happy with you guys right now. I just don't get it, and after Obama just gave one of the greatest speeches in the history of politics (outrageous over exaggeration that I will in no way try to back up with any reasoning or factual evidence, I just thought it was great), the republican "take" on it is hilarious. I was reading this morning that the knock on Obama from republican doubters, apparently, is that he's good at talking. To people. (?) I'm confused. So the knock on the guy we are nominating as our presidential candidate is that...he speaks well? And in turn, people like him? Wait, I don't get it. Instead, you guys want to elect the guy who's like eight billion years old? Because personally, I say we go with the guy who makes complete sentences and is not a year away from drooling on himself. John McCain looks like he should be in an old person's home. I say this because he's 72. Which is old. And personally? I kind of think that's something we should think about. When was the last time you had a huge decision to make, and you ran up to an old person and yelled, "think fast!" I'm guessing they had a heart attack. I say that not to be funny, but because that's what happens when you get older, and I think we all agree that kind of sucks, This is why when people get older we suggest they take it a little easier. You've been living for, you know, a REALLY long time now. Maybe just sit this one out.

I guess another thing that confuses me is that people's knock on Barack (that rhymed, HEY o!) is that he's too normal and...not like other Washington politicians. Again, this thoroughly confuses me. We don't like the guy for president because...people like him? I thought it was kind of a good thing that he didn't talk like a robot, and seemed like you may even be able to hang out with him. John McCain seems like the father of that girl you dated who is the one drawback to dating her: He's this creepy, monotone guy who tells horrible jokes and doesn't let you call him by his first name. And he also has that mothball "old person" scent. Also, the big musician celebrity he has supporting him is Daddy Yankee. I just thought this should be noted.

I watched a man speak last night who, for the first time in my young life, was a politician that truly made me proud to be an American. It felt like other countries were going to like us again. Maybe even invite us over for dinner. Like when the world cup came around? I could actually BE like those crazy ass, awesome Brazilian fans who look proud to wear their yellow and green to support the nation. I'm not trying to be some unappreciative shit: I know it's great to live here. George Bush has just really set us back a billion years. He's dumb, he's dumb, and he's dumb. And that is the man that the ENTIRE world associates us with. Do you go out to the bars at night and think, "Wait, let's make sure to call the guy who sucks at life and says dumb things over and over again so everyone hates us and we get kicked out of everywhere we go! He should TOTALLY represent our friends tonight!" Because that's what we did with nominating George Bush. And we have to walk around every bar saying, "I know, I know. I don't know why we keep hanging out with him. He's a total toolbox."

So republicans, please find better reasons to not like Obama other than "he's awesome and people like him". It's just a really poor argument and it's making you sound dumb. Also, you guys should talk to old man river about picking the VP nominee that hates gay people and wants creationism to be taught in schools. Wow. What is this, 1962? Did he find her in the cave she's been hiding in where she's waiting to hear who won the civil war? The icing on the cake would be that she doesn't think women should have the right to vote. I wouldn't even put it past anyone in the republican party anymore to be this ironically lost in the woods.

I'm not arguing politics. I'm sure some asshole can win that argument with lame "hard-hitting" political analysis and "blah blah blah". And that's fine. The thing is? I just want to pick the guy I really like, that other people really like, and that seems normal. I'm not really that keen on picking the guy who sucks at life and is 412 years old. Oh, and he's friends with George Bush. I mean honestly...that should be enough right there.

Best of Craigslist = I'm Like, Totally Laughing. No, Like Totally.

So my brother sent me this email years ago...but honestly, this is by far in the top five of the best craigslist posts/rants of all time. I want to meet this person, hug them, and tell them that throughout many shitty moments in my life, they have made me laugh enough to almost pee my pants. Which, yes, would be awkward. But wouldn't it be great if something ACTUALLY made you pee your pants? I mean, wouldn't it have to be pretty funny? The saying had to come from somewhere, right? Well basically, I "did" things today, and I also felt zero creativity or "the funny". Thus being my weak sauce attempt at a post. I have plenty of silly ideas floating through my head...but basically, I start to write and then realize that would only be funny to me and no one else. Am I talking?

I'm gonna go ahead and throw in the song of the day as well though,  because Jason Harris reintroduced this into my life the other night. This, the same man who yelled out "Kate Hudson"! I kind of idolize him right now. In a combo kiss-ass-employee/I actually really like my boss kind of way. I just feel very fortunate for my life when my boss drops rock bombs on me like this.

Moving units will pretty much rock your entire life off. I could post most of their first album...but the second album I heard by them kind of sucked. And by kind of, I mean it sucked.

I'm gonna go ahead and throw in the towel on this post. If you could see me right now? I just threw a towel. And my co-workers said, "hey Drew, did you just..." and I said, "yeah...yeah I threw the towel. I threw it right in guys." And they were like, "no way!" and I was like, "totes," and they were like...

(and this is why the blog is called rocket shoes. because sometimes? I just don't know when to stop talking, like the time I told my friend Kevin how cool it would be if people had rocket shoes. I know. Wow.)



Song Of The Day...Again...Today

We're doubling up. Because pandora just shattered my mind with a beat so fresh, I would even consider dancing where people could see me while NOT inebriated. That takes a lot, and I'm not sure it's been done before. What is it with white guys and dancing? I'm not even that bad (shameless self plug) but the thought of people seeing me dance terrifies me sometimes. It doesn't even make sense, because then when I'm alone I'll dance up a storm and fake play instruments up the wazoo. I mean, to Bon Jovi songs even. I don't get it. I sincerely, TRULY love to dance...oh, fear of judgement, you ALWAYS get me! I should work on that. (Rocket Shoes...helping Drew self-heal, one day at a time...YES WE CAN!) Pandora is amazing. It's like a magical music fairy that lives in the woods that I would imagine eats elderberries and the magical colorful pies the lost boys eat in the movie Hook (I know, right? that scene changed my life too). And when I tell it I like a song, it's like, "no you like THIS song." And I DO, Pandora. So you just keep on keepin on. You whip up as many magical concoctions as you'd like for me, because I will keep picking up what you are putting down, and I will put it in my pocket so I can take it out later and agree with you again.

This is the song it fed me today...and the version of this that was on their album didn't do much for me. However, this version basically brings a fierce burst of fierce into my life and makes me want to move to France and live at the discotheque. I mean, what? LISTEN to this shit, it's downright alarming how awesome this beat is. And it makes me so happy that Daft Punk made people want to sound like them, because they sound good. So as if that wasn't enough, I then go and search the video and find out that it's pretty much the greatest thing on the planet since my little pony (too much? too much). As a kid who watched WAY too much TV growing up, this kind of made me miss watching movies on HBO and VHS...umm a lot. I loved all the ghetto old graphics like this, it was some sort of weird comfort when a movie was starting and these ghetto animations would pop and hiss. Justice, I want to marry you as a band in a life partner union. Please?

In other news, I just received an email from someone named "short unmalleableness" with the subject line "Feeling capable of seeixual performances stalk". I don't really have any comment on that, other than I found this to be funny.


Song Of The Day. And I Died Last Night. But Not Really.

So let's just start by saying that one of the guys I was drinking with asked the waitress at 8pm to bring a "steady flow of shots intermittently throughout the meal" and that it should come out to about 21 shots total with 7 people at the table. Sure, that's only 3 shots per person, but asking a waitress to bring 21 shots to the table is definitely an indicator of where you are going with the evening, and it's also probably pretty obnoxious. It should be noted that these shots were to be lemon drops...so i'm sure the waitress had a lot of questions to begin with, and surprisingly the first question wouldn't be "wait, do you really want 21 shots?" The funny part is when not 7, not 21, but ONE shot appears as the first round. As a cute little martini. Wow. We may as well have been having a sex and the city party ("no I get to be Carrie. no I GET to be Carrie!"). We then ask for her to not bring any more out because we wanted shots, not martini bombs. Within about 4 minutes, 7 more lemon drops show up. Any semblance of heterosexuality at the table is now officially gone. We asked again, "no seriously, no more. no more as in I don't want any more, not bring me 20 more. cool? cool." I can't tell if she was playing the "I don't speak english" card or if she just realized that we were douche bags who would give in and just drink them if they brought them...because as we all know, there is a reason women order these drinks: they taste like a delicious elixir of drunk. Oh, and they take you to pleasure town. Best part of the night? When toasting the lemon drops, my boss yells out "Kate Hudson!!" I have no idea why I found this so hilarious, but it was priceless.

After this, all I know is that I had a rum and coke while playing street fighter 2. I'm confused on how I didn't wake up in a dorm room today. I also feel like I'm dead. So that's cool.

Moving on.

I have loved this song since the minute I heard it. For a plethora of reasons, and the word plethora is just amazing and makes me feel like high fiving myself EVERYtime I use it. Really though, northwestern girls are pretty amazing, and from what I've seen are extremely attractive and nice. When I heard this song for the first time, it was like God knew what was going on in my head (which I guess he knows probably, because he's...God?) and made me a personal playlist. Which begs the question: what would God call his mixtapes for you? "Music You Will Like. No Seriously, You Will. I'm God, So I Know That." If I were God? That's what I'd name every mixtape. Either that or something with a lot of misdirection, like..."Songs for Car Crashes. Yeah, You're Worried You Are Gonna Get In A Car Crash Now Huh, Because I'm God And I Just Called Your Mixtape I Made For You Songs for Car Crashes."

It should also be noted that this band used to be called Say Hi To Your Mom and then they changed it to Say Hi. I don't think you are allowed to change your name, but I'm proud of these guys for trying it and pretending like their original bad band name never happened. Anyways, this song makes me like girls. But if you are a girl maybe it will make you like boys, and/or love in general. Because it's awesome. Like God's mixtapes.


Song Of The Day

I have no idea what to say about this band. I mean, it's been about eight years, and I still have no idea if I like them or if i'm scared not too. They speak a different language (and by speak I mean incoherently hiss weird noises), they sound kind of creepy...like maybe they are hiding in your basement or attic creepily caressing wood boards while huffing paint. But at the same time...I don't even know how they make the noise they make. They aren't really a band so much as they are some odd scientific experiment of noises, hapiness and freaky. Either that or they are just a band from iceland and speak what they call their native "language". I don't know, I don't like to think outside of the English language. It's too complicated and requires me to think harder than I'd like to. I even believed a rumor for a long time that they weren't even speaking Icelandic and they were just making up a language. Oh, silly sheltered Americans and the not smart things we believe. Next I'll believe that slim jim's are made of a planted "beef" tree that creates magical fairy dust meats that don't harm animals. Really though? I always liked this band, I just kind of never got why I did. It's not like you get in the car and you are screaming, "MAN we NEED to get hit hard by the Sigur Rós rock truck right now!" They just kind of make noise and it's nice in the background...I guess that's how I've always felt. So I was kind of caught off guard when this song rocked my pants off. It's like if the song Grey Street by Dave Matthews Band was fun, and not just some depressing song about depressing shit that you don't realize until you actually listen to the lyrics (it's a sad realization with most Dave Matthews Band songs). And the best part? Because I'm sheltered and won't look into their culture any further (re: at all), I have NO idea what he's saying during this song. I only assume he's saying, "I'm happy! I'm from Iceland! Did you know Iceland is actually green and greenland is actually mostly ice? Isn't that ironic? I'm happy!" It's basically simple math that this is what he's saying throughout the song.

Added bonus? The song is called GOBBLEDIGOOK. Um, what? Hello, coolest song name ever times infinity locks. Okay i'm done. Enjoy, this song will make you happy. And it's got naked people on the cover (and I think ONE of them is a GIRL! yesssssssss).


I Don't Get It...Did I Have Fun?

I think The Outside Lands Festival was the most confusing concert I've ever been to. I've yet to figure out if I had fun...seriously. Well let me take that back and think it through.

Radiohead blew my mind. Because they made me remember why I used to take drugs and listen to them and tell everyone on the planet that Radiohead would change your life and that you should make Radiohead babies and name them sad Radiohead names. I'm not saying this as though I'm above drugs now by any means, this isn't the "holier than thou" argument, it was just easier then because I had ZERO responsibility in life and lived with three other stoners in an awesome house in Boulder, Colorado. Smoking weed at this juncture in my life was like brushing your teeth. Anyways. They sound so good live, it was kind of like having really good headphones on, except 60,000 people got to share the headphones. Ok, enough about what was good. Let's get cynical...because lord knows it's what I do best.

Festivals are always this awesome idea in theory, but horrific in execution. "Wait, HOW MANY amazing bands are playing?? IN ONE PLACE?? ALL DAY AND NIGHT???" It's basically too good to be true. And it is. Because it's the most stressful thing on the god damn planet. Until they create teleportation devices? This concept just doesn't work. Seeing as the Black Keys were playing approximately ONE MILE from where Beck was playing at the exact same time? Hmm...cool! Good thing I opted for Beck, where I scored a seat that was about a billion feet away. Basically, he could have played a song, left the stage, and maybe i'd hear that song a minute later when the sound traveled to me. Sweet! Let me just go get a sippy cup of beer for 9 dollars and then I'll be right back to hear that song (literally, they should just sell them in sippy cups, they are that large). Moving on.

I will admit that Radiohead was basically worth the price of admission. But the show also made me realize that I hate myself from my college years when I used to go to concerts once a week. And this is because I have a sad feeling that I was "obnoxious radiohead concert hippie" when I was at the O.A.R. concert back in the day, brah.

Drew's Inner Monologue: Alright, 19 year old back from college for the summer, totally jamming with your gnar gnar freshie friends to the mellow grooves. Oh, what's that? You took too much time putting together your trust-fund hippie outfit to make it to a spot on the field where you'd like to be to see the show? Did the hybrid lexus run out of bio-diesel on the way over? No, no...by all means, keep throwing elbows in my back and running into me. Yeah, go for it! Just be passive aggressive and slowly, obnoxiously push me into other people to make the point that you are a little disappointed with where you are standing. Yeah, you are right. You definitely deserve to be in front of me, because I HATE radiohead! You know what you should do? You should get on your friends shoulders. Yeah! You'd see WAY better if you did that. Could you stand directly in front of me first? Would that be cool? Phew, I was worried you wouldn't! Thanks! Oh, also, I hate you. K bye!

I know, I know...that's a lot of anger. But really? We're all on drugs, kiddo. We're all pretty excited to see the show. And I don't mind if you are having a good time, maybe casually filling the gaps in the crowd for a gradual move-up. That's the way you do it, it's just crowd cutting etiquette. I know it sucks, fake hippie, but it's just kind of the unspoken code. Please, have a heart for the rest of the stoned people in the crowd and don't be a big d-bag. Okay? Ok. Also, you are from Orange County. The outfit isn't looking too authentic. Just sayin.

The most ironic, hilarious part of the night probably didn't come until the very end. In a festival ENTIRELY about being greeen and "preserving the earth, man", everyone at the end of the show left about 2 billion bottles on the ground. When the crowd had all left, the entirety of Golden Gate Park looked like a landfill. Hilarious. More ironic? I walked three miles home that night because there was no way in hell I was gonna make it on the N-Judah, and a cab seemed like a long shot. So Drew Hoolhorst stonily walks home three miles and gets some rest, wakes up in the morning and realizes..."huh, i'm feeling GREAT today." Why? Because that's the most exercise I've probably gotten in months. Wow. Only I would have to get stoned to find out exercising feels awesome.

In conclusion? Radiohead is good and I paid 100 bucks to see them. Fake hippies are annoying, yet kind of hilarious and cause great rants. And I should get high and consider my life more often, because apparently I make GREAT life changing decisions then. Who knew?

We're gonna double up on the song of the day today, because at the end of the Radiohead show, I thought, "why have I not listened to this song in like a year??" I felt like my face melted off with technologic joy as they played this and the lasers and lights were flying all over the place. It takes to play a song live that makes a whole crowd move perfectly in unison...everyone looked like they were in a trance. Unreal. Sometimes? Being a stupid stoner is fun. This is when I remember why. Enjoy.


Song Of The Day

So I'm not funny today. I was sitting with Richard in the kitchen discussing what it's like when you just don't have any "funny" in you, and it's like accidentally just becoming a one-upper because there is just statement after statement made with no punch line. So the part where you are supposed to say something ironic or humorous or self-depricating at the end of a statement to get a laugh? Doesn't happen. And in turn, everyone just sits there and stares at you like, "Wait That's it? You're just a dick today?" It's a bummer. I know what you are thinking. "Drew. You are the funniest person alive. I wake up every day only hoping I'll get to hear how funny you are. And we all have our off days. Take a breather. Sit this one out. Stare at things seriously. Make heavy breathing noises and just randomly exhale loud to hammer home that you feel a bit 'off' today. That's what people do to seek attention." Thanks guys! I'll give it a test drive today.

Luckily, Bloc Party brought out their new album today in a super-secret digital way, even though the physical disc doesn't drop until October. Crafty brits. The best part? Bloc Party is always WAY too serious and never even try to be funny. However, they are also delicious. And this song kind of doesn't sound like them at all from before, and I love when a band does that and actually pulls it off: you can tell they are earnestly trying. So i'm going to hang out with them today. It's just depressing relationship song after depressing relationship song. I don't even know where this guy finds time to break up with this many people. It's like he meets someone, hangs out for a day, and then just hates them so he can write another song. I mean, what's he going to do when he actually likes someone? Does the band just stop?

What's that? Stop talking, Drew? Okay. Sorry.


My Coffee Sleeve Is Making Other People Judge Me

So I was driving to work today, and I took a look at my coffee cup. And I felt a little violated. My coffee is brought to me by the new 90210? Wait, really? There's two naked dudes (and by dudes I mean gigantic douchewads) on my coffee cup? This is not what I signed up for. I just wanted a cup of coffee. Maybe a scone. Who knows, maybe i'll get crazy and throw in a zuchinni bread muffin (which is oddly tasty...I mean, what's next, brocolli yogurt?)...but you know what I didn't order with my coffee? A billboard to carry around that states how big of douche I am and that basically insinuates that I am hanging out with 14 year old girls.

Friend: "Yo Drew, you want to hang out tonight? Maybe grab a drink?"

Drew: "Oh sorry man, you didn't see my coffee cup this morning? Yeah i'm going over to Tanya's house. We're gonna bake a cake in our microbake. And then after that, we're TOTES gonna get cray cray and watch the new 90210! I know Donna is out, but she was totes fugs anyways. BTW, don't forget, Dawson's Creek marathon next week, and it's dress as your favorite character! But don't be a Pacey, EVERYONE is coming as Pacey. Latels!"

And in other news: I just realized after writing that mock conversation I would ideally have due to the nature of my coffee cup sleeve, that maybe the coffee cup was right. While I won't be watching the new 90210, I guess I seem to know a lot about it and clearly cannot deny that I was a douche who watched Dawson's Creek. What a self defeating post. You win again, advertising. You always do...

Touché, coffee cup sleeve. Touché...