song of the day

Music Is My Girlfriend (and she's ridiculously good looking)

So ever since the end of my college days, I've had an odd nerd ritual: I organize my life in playlists. I did this in college as well, but afterwords it got aggressive (this is probably due to the "holy shit, um, what do I do now" thing that happens when you leave college). I look at it this way: Anything that has occured in my life I can chronologically recall by what music I was listening to at the time. It works perfectly. Examples:

The Strokes "Is This It?"... That was totally when I wasn't doing anything with my life and we were in Mexico, and there was that night where I was at a club, dusting off my white vans on the dancefloor to the song "walk it out"...which didn't look ridiculous at all...which has thus inspired Lesley to call me anytime she's anywhere and the song "walk it out" is on. Because no one can get over how ridiculous I looked whiteboy dancing up a club in Mexico. That trip was when my friend implored me to listen to The Strokes more, even though everyone jocked them way too much and this in turn made assholes like me act all high and mighty and not listen to them. Wait, this is how I remember when I was listening to the Strokes a lot?

Nada Surf "Let Go"... meeting up with a girlfriend in New Zealand after she'd been abroad for six months, and had the whole, "I'm just not sure we should be...what's the word..OH that's it, DATING!" internal dilemma. So of course it was the best idea to fly to New Zealand for a month of travelling with her. We rented a camper and had banked on it having a tape player we could play my iPod through. Which it did not. So we had the three CD's she owned to listen to for the entirety of the trip. AWESOME. One of them was Nada Surf, whom I knew nothing about other than the fact that their "Popular" song was kind of good that one time in middle school. I will never forget the first time I turned that record on it is now one of my top five favorite albums of all time. I can't turn this album on without feeling like i'm in a camper van in New Zealand. And honestly laughing my ass off at how awkward that trip should have been, and ironically just wasn't. Because of Nada Surf, we didn't have a bad moment. I truly believe this.

Point being, music for me is like the dewey decimal system. I just go to the records, look up a song and know where I was in life accordingly. And when college ended, I couldn't think of a name for a playlist the first morning I woke up and had no class to go to and no job to attend. So on a whim, I titled it what would now go down in Drew Hoolhorst history..."Life Part 1"

Every time I feel a life shift, I change to a new "Life Part (fill in the blank)". There is zero science to this at all, and it usually involves a breakup/meeting a new girl/being happy/NOT being happy. But I'm always overly excited when it happens, because it's like a do-over button and then I can hopefully kind of start life over again with a new set of music. Oddly enough, it legitimately effects my entire life when I make a new one. More importantly, I label every "Life Part" playlist with a short synopsis of what is happening. Examples:

LIFE Part 9 (Wait, when does the bad unemployment man stop?? Fall 2006)
LIFE Part 13 (The Comeback! March 2007 And Beyond)
LIFE Part 25 (When Life Gives You Lemons, You Drink Alcohol...Winter 2008/9)

Last week, Life Part 26 began (I don't plan on ever letting this playlist tradition go for the rest of my life. I'm serious like an STD). And it's been fantastic so far. I mean, the Beatles? The BEATLES? How did I NOT get on board with the white album earlier? I feel like an awesome hippie. And anytime you can have them on the same playlist as a band named "Starfucker", followed by Mos Def, it's just impressive whatever the hell is happening in your life. I have high hopes for Life Part 26 in general, and if the music flowing into my life like the beautiful swans of capistrano is indicitive of Life Part 26's claps.

So enjoy a few lovely cuts of Drew Hoolhorst Life Part 26.

Aptly Titled, "I write for a living now, kinda sorta. Top Gun High Five!"

(Don't worry, that doesn't mean I'm writing for this blog for a living. It turns out you need more than 20-30 readers to make money. But I love all of you, even if one of you is my mom and that kinda doesn't count)

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" 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)

Jurassic Park vs. The Reality Narc

So I'd write a long-winded ode to my NYE, but to tell you the truth? I have no idea what happened for the most part. Here's what I do know for sure: Ryan punched our cab driver and got kicked out of the bar, I drank too much, and I drank too much. HAPPY NEW YEAR! But no seriously, I'll sound like Ron Burgundy here, but that escalated fast and Ryan punched a guy. A CAB driver! WOW! That happens? I had NO idea. The best part is, for the life of us, nobody can figure out why Ryan and the driver were in a fight. I don't remember an argument, as I was in Jerry Seinfeld mode (a la "getthecandy getthecandy getthecandy". If you don't know this sketch he does, find it right now. It's hilarious. I'm too lazy to go find it for you) and I think my whole mindset was just "gethome gethome gethome". I just remember turning around and seeing Ryan punching the cab driver. So hey, 2009! Nice to meet you. You're gonna be a good one. Of course at this point, I did nothing. Because i'm as tough as the triangle player in a middle school band. But it sure was funny, I do remember that. My other final memory is this, and this sums up 2008 for me in so many ways, oddly: when we got home, I was getting in bed and I gave my friend Kevin the other room. He came in dumbfounded and said, "Hey, I just found a plate of triscuits and brie all laid out perfectly, IN your fridge. With a knife. IN the fridge with it. Can I eat it?" I mean, who puts that in the fridge? Who does that? Really, Drew? Sigh. Moving on. So I've been talking a lot about Jurassic Park lately. This was brought to my attention today. Why, you ask? Oh, nevermind, now I won't answer because you are STUPID and should know that Jurassic Park is only one of the greater films of all time (Shoooot herrr....SHOOOOT HERRRR!!). But honestly, I discuss Jurassic Park a lot due to a man in my life I like to call the Reality Narc. That man is my co-worker, Richard Krolewicz. You see, Richard seemingly comes to work every day with the sole purpose of diffusing my ridiculous, grandiose ideas. He also does a lot more work than me, but that's beside the point and doesn't help my argument (sidenote: I just reality narc'd myself. shit). Anyways, Richard will constantly tell me that my ideas cannot and will not ever work, and why they won't. It's like a guy showing up all the time during your childhood and saying things like this:

"No, a man could not go down a chimney without serious injuries. And if he were fat, he definitely wouldn't fit. If the fire is going like most fireplaces Christmas night, he would procure third degree burns as well. If he were carrying presents? Don't get me started. Not only would that be a large fire hazard, but countless toys would break while in transit, and furthermore the wrapping paper would probably even rip before it burned. And he got there by way of imaginary deer who can fly...right. So go on though, you said you believe in Santa Claus?"

(Before I move on, does anyone else find it mildly ironic that the first metaphor to cross a Jewish guy's mind in this situation was about Christmas?)

This is what he does. He metaphorically Santa Claus's all of my awesome ideas and aspirations. So constantly, I try to put him to the test. The most recent idea he shot down of mine? I have a dream. A dream of a land where we build a gigantic pressure-based underground pipeline throughout the nation (We'd start with small test markets, of course. What do you take me for, an idiot?). What is this pipeline for you ask? Well I'm glad you asked. It's so we could transport things from grocery stores, targets, etc, with the greatest of ease. You know how at places like Costco when they get a bunch of cash or checks and they shoot them in a little tube up through that little pipeline (don't even get me started on checks. This is honestly still a form of payment? A piece of paper that says, "I mean, yeah, I'm good for it. Look I signed it. It's practically like I just pinky swore, what more do you want from me, REAL money?" Ridiculous)? Well this pipeline would now be everywhere. Your groceries would go in a tube or some contraption, and you would then have a little chute installed in your house where the goods would be transported to. When you got home? It's all there. No unloading from the car, etc. I have no idea why I see a need for this in any way, other than I love watching that tube shoot up in Costco and would love to find ANY new way I could include this in my life more often. Reality Narc, however, took the wind out of my sails:

"No. First of all, it would require more energy costs to power this. We are already in a partial energy crisis, so this would be impossible to pass through legislature. Furthermore, disease and cleanliness is a whole other problem. This thing you are building into your house, this chute? Can you imagine the rats and cockroaches that would get in through this chute? It's a whole new pest problem in every home. And what if a package gets stuck in the pipeline? And there is a backup for everyone? Then you have to have new workers who specialize in fixing the pipeline, etc. While this would create new jobs, it would also cause more costs in an economic depression, a luxury surely no one would splurge for in this economy. So this would never work."

To bring this all full circle, I was going off one day about how I'm going to spearhead the effort to bring back Jurassic Park as a real idea in this world. Seriously guys...DINOSAURS. Who CARES if they kill us? What ISN'T killing us these days? I mean, if diet coke will plausibly kill me years down the road, why wouldn't I want to live in a world where I could also die from a dinosaur? What sounds cooler:

A) "My brother died from drinking too much diet coke."

B) "My brother died when a velociraptor killed him on a small exotic island near Hawaii."

Yeah, I thought so. But many days at work, I go on and on about how awesome it's going to be when I create the real Jurassic Park once I find my fossilized mosquito and find investors, which by the way shouldn't be very hard, as I'm telling people I'm making DINOSAURS. Who isn't getting behind that? If Barack can win the presidency, then my god man, I can make dinosaurs. It's a new world. Anyways, Richard consistently tells me that it's impossible and sucks the life out of my genius scheme that Michael Crichton started and I AIM TO FINISH IN HIS HONOR. And you know what? I'm not letting go of this one, Reality Narc. So give me your reasons. Attack my awesomeness with your reality and your truthiness. Go ahead. Sticks and stones brah, sticks and stones. I will create Jurassic Park, and your Narc'ing will be foiled. And you will sit there and wish you had never doubted me, Richard. Because when I open Jurassic Park? And you totally want to go because it's awesome and there are Dinosaurs running around? You are paying full price man. Don't even think about calling me for a discount.

We are starting off this muthaflippin year right with the song of the day selection. A band has been brought to my attention that is just phenomenal. They make me want to start speaking in a British accent all the time, which I kind of just want to do anyways, but this is my chance to have an excuse for it. Cynicism, irony and happiness all at once makes for amazingly wonderful music, and these guys do it perfectly. Enjoy Noah and the Whale my friends. I'm off to search for a fossilized mosquito. 07-5-years-time

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 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 ( 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'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.


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??!?!?!?!


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

So it's been a while since I've written. I 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) 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'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'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!


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'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 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'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'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.


I Can't Formulate A Singular Thought

So for starters, I'd like to address something I have a problem with. Why do people in movies (I assume in real life as well, since everything in the movies is real) who carry guns put the gun away in the front or back of their pants with the barrel facing towards their private parts? Or their foot? This seems like a HORRIBLE and terrifying idea. Everytime I see someone do this in a movie, I feel like an insane old lady screaming at the screen. NO WILL! YOU ARE GOING TO BLOW YOUR BITS AND PIECES OFF! But honestly, get a holster. It's just not safe. And it seems like a large price to pay so you can just have a hand free. I digress. So here's something I've realized since I've begun writing this cute little pile of rocket shoes: it's hard to keep up. I mean, don't get me wrong... I'm the funniest person I know and everything I think up is pure genius gold. However, I guess I just never gave all the people who do this so mercilessly as a job enough credit. I love to write. I love to say all the random crap that comes into my head. But sometimes? Thoughts just don't equal big old diatribes or essays. You can force it, sure. But then it sounds dumb and it's, interesting. As i'm sure this post isn't for the most part. But that's the fun of a blog! It's fulfilling for ME all the time and for you only some of the time! I WIN!

I'd love to write about how much I hate the fact that "Disaster Movie" came out, or that anything with the name "movie" in it comes out at all (excluding "not another teen movie", which I hate to admit was funny). I'd love to write about the downfall of Dane Cook and how he became the bag of douche he so loathed. I'd love to even discuss my man crush for Ryan Reynolds and how I wonder if he's overtaking my man crush on John Mayer (yeah, I just admitted it, on both accounts). Point being...I guess you just gotta wait until you have something to say. Which I have zero idea how to do. Whoops. So um, scratch all that up there and prepare for every one of those posts I just mentioned. Or something about how Sarah Palin may very well be a robot. But like a terminator robot, not a fun robot. The kind that has laser eyes and wants to kill people with arms that turn into evil guns. That or she's just a bad person.

Bottom line is that Rocket Shoes is a work in progress. It's kind of like a new girlfriend to me that I just REALLY want to impress, so I try way too hard. I don't understand that hey, it likes me, it's gonna hang out as long as I'm a good guy. So hey, if you people are around to catch my ramblings? I'll be a happy little guy.

Song of the day is short and sweet. Mobius Band is way too good for no one to have heard of them. What is that all about? They blend the electronic disco dancing beats with the melancholy emo-guy sad sap it's strange, but a lot of his sadness just ends up sounding really happy. To sum it up: I listened to these guys a lot when I was a gold miner. Yes. Seriously. More on that later. Enjoy the indie-tasticness.


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 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 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?! 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, 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

Today, Golden Gate Park opens its lovely doors to each and every one of our hearts for hours and hours of Bay to Breakers lite. The Outside Lands Festival sounds pretty effing awesome, and I'm pretty sure that within 5 hours I'm going to be drunkenly peeing in a corner somewhere (sidenote: 5 hours is a gigantic understatement, as I have the bladder of a 12 year old girl and legitimately take those "do you pee too frequently?" pharmaceutical commercials to heart, even though they are aimed at 70 year old men). Which is both exciting and scary, all at the same time, because you never know when you are accidentally going to go ahead and try and take a piss while realizing you are really not hiding at all and just staring at someone with your wiener hanging out. Hey-o! Talk about an exciting moment! The part where you then try to stop peeing (which really hurts) and then pee on your shoe and (wait for it) a bit inside your pants because you are in such an adrenalin-infused hurry (JUST enough to make it look awkward) is priceless. Awkward, hilariously fun night, here I come! Let's hope I don't sleep with bums in the park. The headliners tonight are Beck and Radiohead. Wow, does the night come with valium and ativan? While i'm extremely excited about both bands, I just don't see them blowing me away with hapiness and dance moves. Well, Beck will no doubt make you robot-boogie, but Radiohead? There is a reason everyone does drugs and listens to that band. Because of this, the song of the day (and presumably the weekend, as I've assessed that nobody really goes on the interwebs on the weekend, and the couple of you who read this definitely don't) is going to be danceable and catchy as shit.

So I am easily persuaded by people who dress cool and have money. And Pharrell of the Neptunes (also known as "the tits") went off a while back about how much he loved this band, Chester French. So you look around forever, and of course they are so "hip" and "underground" and they are such a "band to watch" that you can't find a damn cut of their songs anywhere. And then randomly, it appears on some iTunes store nike running, what? Anyways, i'm not gonna argue with them, I'm just happy I found it. Pharrell is attractive, so I will believe anything he says.

Saying I like this band is like showing up to the party five years late with a Zima. I'm kinda late on this one in the "music snobbery" department, but this song is pretty damn infectious and I'm, like, SO totes excited for them to bring out a full, VAMPIRE weekend excited! Tee Hee!

I just threw up on myself. Enjoy the track, enjoy the weekend, I miss you all already. If you are reading my blog? I kind of love you. Seriously, it's been fun thus far. Don't stop believin' and tell me if I suck...and I'll tell you right now i'm open to constructive criticism, but really I'll just cry. Thanks!


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.


Song Of The Day (that is soul-shit-kickingly good)

TV On The Radio is very good at making music. They could wear a fucking table cloth and look cool. You hear their band's name, and they are already insta-awesome because they are clearly way more clever than you are or ever will be. Furthermore, they just never suck. I don't think I can find a way to jock them anymore than this at this point, as I have such a man crush on this band it's gross. Like, I could make puffy paint posters and go to their concerts. Every other music snob blog feels this same way, and uses way more important grammar in describing why you should listen to AND LIKE (or they will punch you in the babymaker) the band. So I don't feel original about this sentiment at all today. But seriously, go click on the album cover at the bottom of this post and listen to the new single they just posted from their new album that needs to come out yesterday.

It's like if gummy bears slept together and unicorns were dancing around the whole time, and then just when you thought the happiness going around that room couldn't get any happier, everyone was given a free hypercolor t-shirt to dance around in. Oh, and there were also robots at the dance/gummy-bear-sleeping-together party. That is what this song feels like to me. If it doesn't do this to you, you are stupid. And or we simply have different taste. It's an either/or.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go dance around in a hypercolor t-shirt with my robot, who is presumably named Leroy. Because that's what i'd name my robot if I had one. That or Bamotron.


Click on me to dance with robots and sing on rainbows!

Song Of The Day (with rant included! yay!)

So lately i've been ashamed of myself. A week ago, it was "gimme more", which I justified by stating that T.I.'s flow was effing phenomenal on it (notice how I say "flow" to justify my menlo park street cred). This week, I drunkenly downloaded "I Kissed A Girl" the other night, thinking to myself, "yeah...I know the song is pretty terrible, but is it? I mean the beat is downright disgustingly good." Which begs the question: can a self-proclaimed music nerd also be really into crap pop? Is that okay? Honestly? I think music nerds are a sad breed. We love music so much, it's truly earnest...but then often just hate on music because other people like it or because almost EVERYONE ON THE PLANET enjoys it. We refer to bands by half names or only first names (example: "yeah I saw Dave last night at shoreline. epic.") We often want to be the first to tell people about a band, for no other reason than to tell people we told them. It's like music nerds are just a really shitty middle child that no one wants to hang out with.

I started like this. Yes, I went to "dave" concerts. I totally hated the band the arctic monkeys for no apparent reason when they came out because everyone else liked them, so I decided i'd just dislike them to prove some inane point. I wanted everyone and their mother to acknowledge that they had heard music FROM ME, and not that douche bag who everyone effing loves because he's so aloof and attractive (slow down...breath...). And then I just realized I liked music. And I just really wanted other people to like music. And honestly? I don't care if you listen to Raffi in the corner all day. Just listen to music. Please. For the love of God...just listen to music.

So yeah, I like "I kissed a girl" by Katy Perry. And I fucking rock out to the "gimme more" remix that T.I. flows his face off on. And I listen to them and want to high five people because my headphones are causing audio rainbows in my ears. So I think music nerds just need to lighten up and stop being such dicks. We got it. You are sad, misunderstood, and your knack for finding "art" is better than others. You are also depressing as shit, so maybe...stop that? Yes, your music is good. Other people also like music, so let them listen to it, even if you hate it.

On that note, here's a new song from a big time blog-boy "it" band that everyone and their hipster mother is going to start drooling over. And I found them a year ago. Before you did. And I liked it more than you did or ever could, because i'm the best. So there. Enjoy.


Song Of The Day

So about every two weeks or so, I will annoy anyone who will listen to me and tell them that i've found, "THE BEST song i've heard in a really long time." What this indicates is simply that I heard a song and liked it. But since I have no understanding of how to properly use adjectives, I just say everything is the best. And then completely contradict that later. It's fun, you should try it. It makes people lose faith in whether or not you are accurately "reviewing" any song, movie, or life event for that matter. Example: Friend: "How was batman?"

Drew: "It was the best movie of all time. There will never be a movie as good as it. I actually don't think other movies are good at all anymore, because batman was the best movie of all time."

I will also tell you that Gattaca is the best movie of all time, because it is. This song I just found the other day is also the best song I've heard in a long time. I'll let you know the best song I've heard in a long time again tomorrow. Thanks.