daily rant

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

and

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.

11-scapegoat

Lil' Wayne Blogs? Wait, Really?

I feel like Lil' Wayne is a hundred dollar bill I found in my jacket that I left hanging in the closet a year ago. Except I left him hanging in there after "Bling Bling" came out like 14 years ago or something and had an awkward jewfro. And now the coat is the outdated north face fleece that everyone had in high school (the black one) and I don't want to wear it because I fear I may look like i'm heading to P.E. or something. But seriously...WTF?? He should not be good. It's almost just science that he should be considered um...terrible. I mean, most of the time, the man's lyrics BARELY rival my drunken whitetastic flows...which, as Richard knows, usually simply involve me being Drew, who inevitably lives in a shoe...and then I will ask you what you "gon" do. This is the go-to drew hoolhorst flow. If not? I'm usually Drew and i'm here to say that i'm a crazy motherfucka from around the way. Ironically, I just went to research Lil' Wayne lyrics to prove my "oh my god he should be terrible technically" point...but I think I actually just proved my point the wrong way in the process. I was just going through song after song, and I almost feel like he is the rain man of rappers. I just sat there like a total retard in awe of this man's strangely hypnotic songs...and I feel like a four year old watching teletubbies or something. WHY is he so good? I don't get it. I'm not sure if he's good, or he just beats you into submission with the fact that he just never...stops...talking... (I know what you're thinking. "hey drew, I wonder what that's like. maybe grab a tape recorder the next time you are talking bud...")

I mean, he says "got so many bitches they should call me mike lowwwwry." This is genius. And you know you love the movie Bad Boys. If you don't, you are dumb and people should throw olive oil at you. I say that because it is a tough stain to take out of anything, so you THINK about making fun of me for saying that's what they should throw at you. It's terrible. You can't even shout that crap out. On that note, the next time you feel like saying something terrible about someone? You should just hope they stub their pinky toe and that it never grows back properly and instead makes this weird "nub" at the end of your foot that looks awkward when they go on vacation. Can you tell this happened to me? It sucks. And I wish it upon only people I strongly dislike. Also, it hurts when it rains. I'm like spiderman or something. Anyways...

So my love affair with this man is going on hardcore right now. It's not even a man-crush anymore...I'm at that point where I start bumping "A Milli" in my car after work, and honestly (yeah I know, get ready to picture this) start totally trying to flow the song...WITH him...and pretend that there are no windows in my car and that I don't look like a complete and total ass-clown. He's like the anti-anything-you-ever-wanted-to-look-like-in-life guy. I mean, he's basically just a tattoo now, and I wonder if he's bummed because he peaked and tattooed his whole body already so now he can't get anymore for the rest of his life unless he shaves his head. Wait, write that down if you are reading this weezie. And yeah, I just called you weezie. Jew represent, WHAT WHAT.

So here's my favorite new thing about the man. He blogs. No seriously. He blogs. I mean say that out loud. I don't know why this is so funny to me, but it is. The thing is? He's...interesting. And his points on sports are...valid. For some reason I expected him to write like this:

Lil' Wayne: Heh heh HEH...jiiiaaa....ya'll ain't know I'm it. I like grapes because they smash n' shit. Li-li-like who dat say they gon stop me from float'n on tha hovaboooorrrrrrd when ya'll know I ain't got scorrrred on. Heh heh hehe YOUNG MONEY!

This is not because I think he's uneducated. It's because I just don't think he can talk in anything but "flow" talk. I can't see him saying things like, "Yeah, I do agree...with foreign policy like this, our economy is sure to fluster! Good on you, sir!" I don't know. Maybe i've underestimated weezie.

Anyways. Listen to this song. If you hate it? You should ju...Oh what's that? You just listened to it for the fourteenth time in a row and can't figure out how to stop? SEE. I told you. WHO IS THIS MAN??!?!?!?!

03-a-milli

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.

Love,

Drew Hoolerific Hoolhorst

01-the-comeback

Song Of The Day (In Slow Motion)

I feel like living in San Francisco has thrown off any idea of a "season" that I ever may have had. Honestly, the weather patterns here are confusing as shit, and in some ways I feel like God just experiments with us to see what he's gonna do elsewhere. God: "What is it, a Monday? September, eh? (leans over to yell out of his office) Karen, what did we do with the weather there this weekend? Warm? No shit...well, give 'em 56 degrees today. Keep them on their toes. Yeah. Thanks...Oh and can you get some more Its-its if you are going to the store?"

Yes, I believe God would eat Its-its. They are the most delicious treat in all of the delicious treat land. Anyways. But here's my point: I've got this weird thing with music where I often almost entirely associate it with seasons. I mean, rap? That is summer music. It doesn't make sense to me in the winter or even spring; it's as though i'm too much of a cliche "white guy" during those seasons or something. I don't even know what that means, but I understand what i'm saying and that's clearly all that matters. So living in San Francisco these past years? It's totally thrown my shit off. I feel like I have no idea what to listen to and when. Oh, what is a pretentious white guy music nerd to DO!! I might panic and listen to 50 Cent, and that could throw my whole world off. I will hide it from myself and listen to Enya to throw everything off.

So this song is kind of what bummed me out, because for some reason it's the epitome of the "fall" song, or the "walking to class on a nice campus in a traditional film about college with the leaves changing color and falling" song. And it just breaks my heart that I wake up here and there is probably going to be no true feeling of fall here. In California, there are four seasons: California, California, Rain kinda, and California. So I will listen to this song, and pray and hope that there is that cold morning where this song fits. And for some reason, when I hear this song, I feel like it would only really work if everything was in slow motion. Honestly, listen to it and try not to imagine walking through a college campus in slow motion. Because that's the only way it can be listened to. And if you argue that, you are stupid. Maybe I need to move somewhere with seasons again. If not, I guess my music collection will be stuck in "Kinda Rain" purgatory. Which would be a bummer. Until then, I will keep searching for a "slow motion" device. That and a teleporter. There is no other point in life but to find these two things. Toodles.

04-in-the-new-year

The Poster Child For Not Doing It With The Children of Government Officials

Let's all pretend to feel bad for Levi Johnston. I mean, he's just a random 18 year-old kid who thought, "Hey, you know what would be awesome? Having sex! I should totally start doing that." And you know what, Levi? Not a bad idea. Here's where you misfired though (HEY o!)... Yes, Levi. Sleeping with girls is a fantastic idea. You know what else is? Maybe wearing a "no babies" device while doing so. And here's the real bummer: you picked the governor's daughter. I know, I know. I bet it was like, high fives all around when you were telling your hockey bros about this. I bet you are prettttty pissed at John McCain right now though. I mean, what are the odds that the girl's mom you were doing was possibly going to become the new vice president? Because now? Um, I don't think you are really getting out of this one. Oh you have hockey practice? Guess what! Now you have "take care of a baby" practice! You have the Republican National Convention! Oh also, if you leave Bristol now you are the biggest dick in the entire world and your entire state will hate you. No pressure though.

In all honesty? I feel bad for the guy. Yes...his myspace page makes him sound like the biggest douchewad on the entire earth. But you know what? He's in high school or college. This is essentially where everyone (parents) sticks you for four years so they just don't really have to deal with you. I mean, college is essentially just a holding bay for idiots, or mini-adults who can't really do anything...at all yet. So when you go there? This is the kind of thing you do. You sleep with people. You make horrible decisions. Also, in a sidenote I just judged an 18 year old's myspace page, so that's embarrassing. Maybe later on today I can go make fun of a six year old's dribbling skills at a soccer practice!

I guess it just goes to show you shouldn't sleep with a government official's kid. Maybe next time just pick the cheerleader whose mom works at the puffy paint shop or the moose-hunting store. Not the "leader of the free world" store.

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.)

CRAIGSLIST PEE YOUR PANTS POST

04-going-for-adds

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.

01-dvno-radio-edit1

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.

01-northwestern-girls

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).

01-gobbledigook