On Music.

I used to really enjoy music. No, scratch that-- I used to LOVE music. I had fancy color-coordinated CD towers in my room filled with all the coolest and most up to date music available. And then CDs went out and iPods came in and I totally got one of those and filled it up with all kinds of cool and diverse music: Nina Simone, Karl Jenkins, Alicia Keys, Crystal Kay, Usher, Common... you name it, I had it or something close to it. I loved my music, and my music loved me.

But then, things changed.

Somewhere along the line, some fool person decided it wasn't enough to just like music. Nay, it wasn't enough to LOVE music. No, unless you were a complete douche about music, you clearly had no freaking idea what you were talking about and might as well spend your time listening to the rhythmic click of an old school typewriter. Somehow, it became too little to simply listen to what you liked, or nod your head to what came on the radio, or stumble upon some song in an old movie that you happened to fall in love with. No, listening to music became a job.

You must seek out new music. Listen to what comes on the radio? Kill yourself. Slowly. In a very painful manner. DON'T YOU KNOW NOTHING GOOD COMES ON THE RADIO ANYMORE? Listen to old music? Unless you found a .45 in a dusty bin in the drafty corner of that out of the way music/corner/medical marijuana store, your find is null and void and you might as well shoot yourself in the kneecap. Listen to what you like? Only acceptable if only 1/10 of the U.S. population knows who the artist is and of those only 3.9% enjoy the music. Otherwise, you shall be banished to a small windowless room and subjected to white noise torture in the form of J. Cole, Childish Gambino (really, people? REALLY? When he comes out with a song entitled "I got all you fools to call me Immature Baby and you fell for it", don't come crying to me.), Iggy Azalea, and Jean Grae.

You must not enjoy popular music. Unless you're in the club. And you're drunk. Because everyone knows the regular rules don't apply when you're drunk in the club. In those limited circumstances, feel free to shake, wind, and roll all you want to Beyonce', Drake, Rick Ross... wait, Rick Ross actually gets a pass from like everybody. He's essentially the fat baby Jesus of music. I'm not sure why this is. Anyway, I digress...

The point is, liking music takes too much work now. So I've decided that I simply won't.

No more updating my iPod. No more downloading songs that interest me. I'll listen to what I've already got cause I'm cheap and I paid for all that stuff and I don't believe in wasting money, but that's it! No more music. Forget Wall Street, I'm occupying my iTunes until further notice.

And all you self-proclaimed music lovers, you of the "I can't breathe without music; music is my life, my heart, and my soul, #TeamUndergroundMusic #TeamIWearCrewNeckSweatshirts #TeamI'mBetterThanYouBecauseMyFavoriteArtistHasn'tEvenBeenBornYet(#TeamWombMusic)" Twitter bios, can all take pride in having caused the destruction of my love for music. But don't worry, I'll be back. And when I am, I'm bringing these guys with me, just to piss. you. off.

S.

Gym Mullings

Some people are just stank. Some people are plain weird. And some people are outright rude. I promise you, this is never more obvious than at the gym. If you ever want to do an in depth social analysis spanning the whole of the human spectrum, just go to the gym.

But the things people do... I just don't understand. Why. Why? WHY?? Let's explore...

1. You weigh 382 lbs. Why are you on the ab machine?

Seriously, man? Seriously? Listen, I understand that building muscle is important to weight loss. I get that, right there with you. HOWEVER, there is no reason for anyone with that much extra weight to be on the ab machine. Let's focus on making sure you don't die, buddy. We can work on those washboard abs in... oh, let's say 200lbs from now. I only have about 20 lbs to lose, and I still don't mess around on the ab rocker deep muscle hitter crunchamjig. Time out, I seriously just cracked myself up. Just imagine a Rick Ross dude with all that belly, but when he pulled his shirt up, there was a six-pack hanging over his jeans. HA!! How weird would that be?!?!?! Ok, I digress... ::chuckle:: I'm just saying, let's be realistic.

2. Really Mr. Trainerman? You're just gonna roll up in here with your 3 piece wing and sides combo?

Trainers do this All. Of. The. Time. I hate them for it. You know everyone in here is trying to lose weight, and yet you, he of the 8-pack ab/gun show biceps/bounce a quarter of that booty behind, feel it necessary to walk clear across the gym with fried chicken wing in hand, trailing delicious fried food fragrance behind you. Look, we know you put in the work and should be allowed to reap the benefits. That doesn't mean you should reap the benefits in the middle of the gym when I haven't eaten anything other than string cheese, lemon water, and Fiber One bars for the past 8 days. Have a heart. Or else. All I'm saying is this--don't be mad when Mr. 382lbs gets up off that ab machine and rushes your rude entitled behind. Word.

3. You just walked in 2 minutes ago. How is it possible you smell already?

Come on now, folks. I understand the logic of not wanting to shower before you go to the gym since you're going to have to shower as soon as you get done anyway. How. Ev. Er. That logic does not apply if you already haven't showered in 5 days and/or your natural body fragrance is so freaking pungent that you've been gifted the entire Bed, Bath, and Beyond smell good (!!) collection the last three Christmases, birthdays, and Memorial Days in a row. That's just indecent. And unfair. How am I supposed to get a good workout in if I can't even breathe? Why are you undermining my progress?!??!?!

4. Why do you have on cords, a button down, and dress shoes while riding the elliptical?

I don't even know what to say about this one. It seriously just perplexes me. How is that possibly comfortable? And what was your rationale? Hmm, I really need to get a workout in, but I only have about 30 minutes for lunch. I know! I'll get back an additional 7 minutes if I forget about changing clothes and just go straight from my desk. Do you go back to your desk sweaty?? Do you blame the ring of sweat under your arms on the malfunctioning space heater under your desk? Is the crotch sweat stain (because there's always a crotch sweat stain, and if there isn't you weren't working out hard enough) blamed on the new guy in IT who came to fix your monitor this morning? I just don't get it.

5. Really? You're just gonna get on the treadmill right next to me even though there are 15 unoccupied ones in the gym and we're the only two people here?

Oh, ok. Just checking.

My people, my people.

I Hate You... Online

Since we're on the topic of social networking, let's talk about something else that really grinds my gears, Peter Griffin.

I try to be very honest and faithful to myself online. That is, I make every effort to seem, through the impression you get of me via facebook/twitter/blog, the exact same way I would seem if you were sitting directly across from me--beautiful, annoyingly slim, highly intelligent, ridiculously funny, and humble to a fault. :)

Unfortunately, 92.849% of the world does not follow this rule, and it perplexes me to no end why they don't. Even more annoying is the fact that most of the time, people seem MORE annoying through social media than they do in real life. I don't even know how this is possible. How can it be that I can spend 2 hours with you and find you exceedingly pleasant and fun to be around, but in the span of 140 characters on Twitter you've made me want to kick you in the kidneys, stab a pencil through my eye, and water-board my neighbor's cat all at the same time?

Are you going out of your way to sound like a pretentious know-it-all? Do you truly not understand that every time you tweet or update your status on facebook, some privileged 2520 in Ann Arbor stops driving his BMW in the middle of the road and starts crying because he's lost his position as the world's greatest douche?

So with that in mind, I'm offering up a few examples of how you can know if I currently hate the online version of you.

1. You tweet a celebrity congratulations on being knowledgeable about something you think is outside the general cultural reference. Ex. @kimkardashian Good looking on that Pulitzer Prize winning novel reference. I totally didn't think you were smart enough to read, much less understand AP English level writing. Go you!

2. You engage in humbly boastful status updates. Ex. Ugh, I wish all these people would stop asking me to tutor them! Like, is it my fault I got a 106% on the test? I just want to be valedictorian in peace! I knew I should've hidden my amazingly good ACT score when I got it, instead of taking pictures of it and posting it as my profile pic, tagging all my friends to it, and making it pop up in everyone's phone when they call me. GAWD, it's soooo hard being soooo smart.

3. You get upset when people respond to something you post On. A. Social. Networking. Site. Ex. @youtheidiot: Ugh, I hate tall brown girls. Like, they're just whack. @me: I mean... I'm inclined to disagree. Why do you feel that way? @youtheidiot: UMMM EXCUSE ME WORLD, JUST BECAUSE I POST SOMETHING, ON A SOCIAL NETWORKING SITE, WHERE THE POINT OF THE SITE IS TO TALK TO PEOPLE, DOESN'T MEAN I ACTUALLY WANT YOU TO RESPOND TO WHAT I'VE SAID, EVEN IF YOU AREN'T ACTUALLY ARGUING WITH ME BUT JUST MAKING A BENIGN COMMENT. DUH. But go read my blog/watch my video/buy a ticket to my play/get your hair done by cousin pookie and them anyway, k?

I hate you. I hate you all. But only internet you. Real life you is still cool peeps!