An Open Letter To My Friends

If I have seen you in the past week, talked to you, texted you or if you have seen Tweets or Facebook posts from me, you are probably aware I was in a serious car accident, where I was hit by a drunk driver who ran a red light at an intersection. Without spending too much time on it, I had to be taken to the hospital, and my vehicle ended up being a total loss. Fortunately, I was discharged into the care of some fantastic friends after a long night, and considering how these situations often turn out, I was beyond fortunate to walk away with only a concussion, a badly sprained wrist and an assortment of bruises, scrapes and aches. 

Re-hashing this situation is not why I am writing though. A couple years ago, something like this would have sent me into one of the most bitter and angry funks you could imagine. Just thinking about how I would have handled it makes me cringe. I like to think I have matured a lot in the past couple years though, and I would also like to think I've taken a pretty positive perspective on the situation. I know what happened isn't fair, and it has already been a great burden, both personally and financially. But at the end of the day, material possessions are only things, and things can be replaced. And money isn't anything but means to replace those things. Of course, most of what we do is in the pursuit of having the financial security to provide ourselves with the things we want. But none of those things are what matter most.

First and foremost, I am alive, able-bodied and happy. Any day you are able to say that is a good day, and that should never be forgotten or taken lightly. You could say I am blessed, you could say I am lucky, or you could say I'm simply Way Too Raw to let a couple tons of fast-moving metal knock me off my swag. If you'll allow me to, I'll go with all three (with particular emphasis on the last, of course). And while that is the most important thing of all, it also is not why I am writing. 

The real reason I have written tonight is because of the impact all of you, my friends and family, have had on me this week. I have never once thought otherwise, but this week has re-affirmed the fact that, aside from being alive to enjoy them, there is nothing more important than the relationships you have with the people you care about. So, I am writing this as a thank you to all of you. 

To everyone of you guys who called me. 

Texted me. 

Facebooked me. 

Tweeted at me. 

Said "If you need anything..."'

Drove too far to see me. 

Gave me a ride.

Sent me a letter.

Brought me some get-well treats. 

Got breakfast, lunch and dinner with me.

Reminisced about good times.

Helped me fill out insurance forms when I couldn't hold a pen.

Helped me sell my beloved car for parts.

Helped me lift something, open something, find something or remember something.

Gave me a hug.

Gave me a pat on the back.

Sent a positive thought my way.

Told me how happy you are that I'm still around.

Each and every one of these things means more to me than I can say. The outpouring of genuine love during one of the most difficult times in my life is something that will bring me happiness until the day I die. The generosity and compassion I have received has been a gift that I hope everybody is fortunate enough to experience at some point in their life.

I am writing this because I want you to all understand the sincerity with which I mean these words, as well as all the others I have said. Every thank you has carried the weight of a thousand. I have meant everything I said to you all during this week and so much more. Even beyond me, the weight that was lifted off my family, who are too far away in most cases to be able to hop in the car and see me, has been incredible. They know I am in good hands and that has made this process much easier for them. I thank you all for that as well. 

There is a saying/theory I came up with a while ago that I adopted as part of my outlook of life that I would like to share:

"In life, regardless of what you want, you will give pieces of yourself, both large and small, to many people and places. But when you're done, hopefully you will have given more than you kept."

This week, I have received many pieces. And those are far more valuable to me than any car or paycheck. I love you all.


cp.

The Obstinacy of Time

As I approach a quarter century of living, I have noticed a trend during my daily life; an appearance of tinges and pangs that are new to me. They are ephemeral, a blink of my mind’s eye, but carry the weight of something much greater. Thoughts shoot through my mind, often triggered but sometimes unearthed by a train of thought taking a scenic route.

I have long been susceptible to the traditional reminders of a life lived; a forgotten song coming alive again or a return to a place well traveled. Most people are. More recently though, it has been much simpler things that have removed me from my self. The temperature of a breeze as it hits my face, the color of the sky and the shape of the clouds or the way an article of clothing wears.

These have been reminders of times passed, both time spent with friends and time spent alone, all moments preserved in their own amber, frozen exactly the way they were, for better or worse. For a while, this troubled me. Never to say mine is, a lack of control can undermine even greatest fortitude and there is nothing more untouchable than time.

I recognize this is something we all battle at some point in our lives, and I hope for most people it is after the best of times. Luckily, this is true in my case. But for every wonderful moment experienced, there is always the foreboding of its reciprocal, the absence of that moment after it passes and the longing to return to it. We will visit friends, unconsciously trying to recreate nights, days, weeks spent together, but schedules will never perfectly align, people come and go and lives change. A holiday will come with the hope to re-live one from childhood, but we are no longer children. A trip will be taken, an entire weekend spent silently straining, hoping to duplicate the 15 minutes on the way home where everyone was in tears laughing, on the exact same wavelength, a vessel of many parts completely in sync.

I consider it likely that change of the seasons is what, in part, brings about this sort of contemplation. The end and the beginning, clashing and blending together, with the outcome always having been predetermined. I have long considered the notion that time is our only enemy and I tend to agree with it, more strongly during some times than others. There is nothing time cannot take away from you, in any and every possible way. Time will never cease to do what time does, and its rulings are final, even when delayed. But upon considering this again, I realized that yes, all wonderful things have been taken by time, but only because they were delivered as well. The only things we cannot lose are the things we have never had so there is no reason for dismay over the longing of what is lost. These things should be supernovas in our minds, burning so brightly for a fraction of time and then gone again, as quickly as they came.

Every time we are taken back to a place in time, it should remind us that there is a never-ending supply of moments for us to create for ourselves, moments to add to the collection. One of the greatest feelings in the world is to realize not after but during, that you are experiencing something you will be taken back to months, years and decades down the road.

It is easy to try and go back to the way things once were. But I discovered the less I focused on trying to replicate moments, the more they became the kind that will re-appear to me in a sound, feeling or thought as I grow old. There is nothing time can take away that it has not already gifted us, so as it can be our greatest enemy at times, we should recognize and appreciate the moments it is our greatest ally.

 ---

"Advance, and never halt, for advancing is perfection. Advance and do not fear the thorns in the path, for they draw only corrupt blood."  - Khalil Gibran

5 Songs I Shouldn't Love

Ah, the guilty pleasure. The intrinsic shame felt over liking something you aren’t supposed to. Sometimes the reason you aren’t supposed to like something is moderately valid. Something like a health issue or social moray, which eating glass or wearing diapers in public could be classified as. Or perhaps the guilt is felt after constructing a façade-personality that would outwardly seem repulsed by an action you inwardly love, like a self-proclaimed vegan going rawdog on some Rally’s. Then you’re just a liar and you deserve that guilt, but those Loaded Fries are just too good, aren’t they?

SWAGONMAX

I have long been a proponent of not feeling bad about something I like. If you need proof, refer to my very vocal, public and constant declarations of love for the Best Movie of All-Time: Titanic (REALTALK). I also feel that with my personal preferences being so arbitrary that friends in college made a party game out of guessing if I liked or hated random topics, I can get away liking pretty much whatever I want, without anyone raising an eyebrow from shock or surprise.

Well, almost anything. Music seems to be the great leveler in terms of guilty pleasures. Preferences and favorites naturally evolve as you go through life listening to music, and dislikes form as a counter balance. Even the people who claim they like “everything” dislike a couple songs and artists. (Probably the best ones, because if you like “everything” you don’t actually like anything.) On a basic level, it’s from these preferences that a solid chunk of guilty pleasures are formed.

The biggest factor in the guilty pleasure song comes from the people who make it their business to be VERY into their music. There is a distinction, though fuzzy and subjective, between good music and bad music. The people who take staying on the correct side of this line rather seriously often find themselves in an existential quandary: “God, this song is mindless, manufactured, noise-trash. But….I… can’t… stop… listening.”

I can’t state a definition of what “good” or “bad” music is but I can pull a Supreme Court and say, “I know it when I hear it.” These loose personal guidelines form my preferred musical stylings and as a result I’ve acquired some pretty eclectic tastes over the years.

Now that I sound all assy and arrogant, I want to specify that I don’t like all good music, or hate all bad music. These are not mutually exclusive things. It's similar to when somebody is wagging a finger at you, saying “You know better than that!” And you know you do. But you can’t help yourself.

So this is where I find myself now, making the list of the five songs that for one reason or another I shouldn’t like. The five songs I should know better than to like. The five songs people would be totally shocked to find out I like. But in keeping with my open-door policy, I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to like them free and clear after posting this. Street-cred, I’ll miss you.

5- Kid Rock – “I Am The Bullgod”

#BullgodStatus

If bad music were a neighborhood, “I Am The Bullgod” would have bought all five lots at the end of the cul-de-sac, built a mansion with 10 bedrooms, eight baths and two swimming pools and then ignored the grass and strewn car parts across yard while shingles fell off the roof and small mammals moved in under the front porch.

The opening riff is the “Amazing Grace” of Buttrock Gospel and the thinly veiled and poorly concocted references to how high and drunk he can get are so immature a poop joke would frown. Above all, no mention is ever made of what actually BEING a Bullgod means. The world may never know.

Kid Rock displays some of his best idiocy imagery on this track, with non sequiturs around every corner. You’re the Pot God? Really? I don’t think a 6^th grader would even be impressed by that statement. What would a Pot God even wear, a crown of stems? (Zing!)

Unfortunately, this song is so horrible, it has gone from novelty to hilarity to necessity. So many jokes and sarcastic statements have been derived from this song over the years, it morphed into something I never would have imagined - a song I kinda, maybe, sorta like. There’s no real explanation for it, as it doesn’t have a tune, the aforementioned lyrical content isn’t lyrical nor content and it reminds me far too much of the worst parts of living in Northern Michigan; the people who have never been south of the 45^th parallel but have Confederate flags and “Redneck” on their mud flaps. All that, and it’s in my iTunes Top 25 most played. Oh well.

4- Belinda Carlisle – “Heaven Is A Place On Earth”

I am going to preface this entry by mentioning that Belinda Carlisle was the lead singer of the Go-Gos. Yes, THOSE Go-Gos.

The biggest issue with this song is the absolute absurdity of the lyrics. Generalized statements abound, as do unanswered questions. For example, the song opens with the line “Ooh baby/ do you know what that’s worth?” What is what worth? You never say, Belinda! I kind of feel you couldn’t find something to rhyme with Earth. That’s what happened, isn’t it Belinda? You can tell me, it was a long time ago. Girth rhymes too, by the way.

The equally undesirable alternative to the rhetorical verses are the sickeningly sweet lines that you wouldn’t even find in a Hallmark card: “In this world we’re just beginning/to understand the miracle of living”…

 I’m not even going to try to think up something to say about that.

All that and I’ll still throw my arms in the air, Short Street style, if this song comes on at the bar or a party. I’ve given deep thought as to why I like this song, because there really is no redeeming value to this song, and I narrowed it down to two things. I like high notes a lot for some reason, and this song has synths and chimes galore. Sign me up. The other is that this is one of those songs from the 80s that feels like one large build up, which I am also a sucker for. When they drop the beat and come back with the final crescendo, it’s over. OVER. *Insert Marquise Gray throat slashing gesture.*

3- Evan & Jaron – “Crazy For This Girl”

I’m going to flip this entry and state the reasons I love this song, because the reasons it’s lame are pretty obvious. If you listen closely, it’s the story of a guy settling on a girl he didn’t really like because he realized he couldn’t do any better. How could you not love a song about giving up?  Seriously, check out these lyrics:

“She rolls the window down/And she talks over the sound/Of the cars that pass us by” – This girl is so loud and obnoxious, she can’t even be drowned out by freeway traffic. Keeper.

“And I don’t know why/But she’s changed my mind” – You had no desire to be with this girl for a number of reasons. But suddenly your mind changes. Is it the constant rejections at the bar? The dates that stand you up? Or do you suddenly realize that she’s beautiful, articulate, and caring after knowing her for five years? Uh, it’s the first two, Melvin.

“She was the one to hold me/The night, the sky fell down” – FRIEND ZONE. Why did the sky fall down? Because her prettier roommate dumped you, loser.

“And what was I thinking when the world didn’t end/Why didn’t I know what I know now?” – You mean knowing that her roommate was way our of your league and that maybe you shouldn’t have spent every night playing WoW while she went out and met guys with actual social skills?

The rest of this song basically involves this weird guy and uggo-frumpy girl in the car staring at each other not saying anything, probably because they’re equally worried what their friends will say if they vocalize their creepy adoration for each other. Then he flies off the handle and thinks he wants to get married and the modern-day version of the ending of “Layla” rolls in. It’s simply amazing.

2 – Adele – “Rolling In The Deep”

This song is different from all the others on the list, by virtue of it not being a “bad” song that worked its black majik on me. To the contrary; it’s a song with heartfelt, artist-written lyrics performed by a singer with an amazing voice. Adele has pipes, son. Respect that.

This song lands this high on the list because of the dichotomy between where this song came from, and where I come from. I can’t think of many things that apply to me LESS than a song written by a 21-year-old U.K. woman about how she broke up with her ex-boyfriend and found out later that he was getting married. I have had literally none of that happen to me, believe it or not.

I have zero ways to identify with this song. I have more in common with D-Roc from the Ying Yang Twins than I do Adele and this song. This girl is seriously so bent out of shape she goes and wins herself some Grammys to wipe her tears, and I spend my time getting angry because I’ve ordered two Eddie Murray shirts and both have had to be returned because of piss-poor screen printing.

In a way, I’m proud of myself for liking this song though. Because it is a good song, and I don’t have to understand it or be the target audience to get that.

1 – Miley Cyrus – “Party In The USA”

You saw this one coming.

I’ve managed to talk about this song in this blog more than anything else somehow, but I can’t help it. Yes, this song is about as mindless as it gets. Yes, this song has the lyrics “Yeeeeahhhh-eeee-yahhhhh- yeahhhhhhh-eeeee-yahhhh.”  Yes, this song rhymes “nervous” with “homesick.” Yes, this song is kind of about the USA. Yes, I know the target audience is 14-year-old girls watching the Disney Channel.

But damn it, this may be the catchiest song of all time. And I feel all right when the DJ plays my song too, knamean?

Honorable Mentions:

BBMak – “Back Here”

Don Henley – “Boys Of Summer”

Mariah Carey – “Honey”

A Progressive Thought On The Humanity Of Production

At work a couple days ago, I was paging through one of my company’s product catalogs, familiarizing myself with the product lines, as I’m the New Kid on The Block. (I won’t be touring with the Backstreet Boys this summer though.) Near the back quarter of the PDF were assorted, specialized products, which is where I saw the set of tiny stairs. Not regular, for-human-use stairs, but the kind for tiny, old or post-surgery pets.

Lulz. Now I Haz Access.

Upon seeing this, I got the warm and fuzzies and started grinning like a moron. Before I continue, I’d like to preface this part by saying I love animals. More than I love most humans, to be honest. I’ll run across traffic if I see an awesome dog being walked on the other side of the street. Any burden is worth being placed on fellow man for the chance to pet a big sweetie. So when I saw these pet stairs, in my own mind I thought, “Helping creatures great and small! Huzzah!” and imagined two sets of tiny stairs at either end of a couch, with an unending stream of dogs walking up one end, across the couch, and down the other. With trumpets playing. And for any of you who think pet stairs are silly, you’ve never seen a dog or cat painfully deliberate whether or not to jump onto a couch or in a car they used to fly into at 200 mph. It’s the saddest thing ever. But what isn't sad is a dog couch-walking parade. That's the best.

Unfortunately, right after I thought how wonderful it is that I'm working somewhere that makes these things, I thought about how nice they would have been for my dog when she was sick, back when we had to pick her up to put in the back of cars and the like. Not an easy task when she was an 85 pound rottweiler, and I can’t imagine it was much fun for her either. Being the man-baby I occasionally am, I had to forcefully snap out of it before I got all misty-eyed at my desk. A great impression that would have been, needing to excuse myself because a set of polystyrene  steps got me all worked up. Great Job!

The idea that experience left me ruminating upon is that products, items, things - stuff we haven’t even possessed, have the power to change our mood and conjure memories and emotions we can’t predict. And it only makes sense that the things we DO own have a greater personal tie to us, making them even more capable of stirring our feelings. Everything that enters into the marketplace has an opportunity to go into a home. And from there, it has the chance to engrain itself to a person forever.

So where did all that Progressive Thought lead me? It made me realize that it’s a very good thing that we have no idea where the things we make will end up or what they’ll do. Because we wouldn’t get anything done. EVER.

Fly Ricky The Wine Taster.

How could workers produce a stuffed animal, knowing it’ll be the toy a child is inseparable from, and ultimately becomes the symbol of their un-ironically joyful youth? Or haberdash (MADE-UP VERB) the hat your father would frisbee-toss onto coat rack every night when he came home before greeting you with a big hug and a smile? Or mold the rubber Elvis hair that would be worn atop the head of Kool Keith for his Black Elvis In Space album? It would be a staggering responsibility that people simply could not handle hour after hour, day in day out, knowing the importance of their actions. Real raw.

And on the other side, how could someone sew together a dress, knowing it’s being bought for the burial of a loved sister, mother or friend? Or ferment the bottle of alcohol someone drank before they got behind the wheel of a car? Or print the stamp being used to mail divorce papers? It would produce a constant, crushing sadness throughout the entire production process, until you were able to begin a new project, which would take you on another unpredictable roller coaster, for better or worse.

It would be like listening to and watching the most intensely emotional parts of songs and movies, unrelentingly, eight hours a day. Luckily, none of this is possible, so I shouldn’t worry or concern myself until Bizarro World is officially discovered. At that point, bets are off. Rather, it’s just interesting to think of the innumerable diverging journeys the things around us take through their own lifetimes, with or without is. All this from a set of foam stairs. Go figure.

But hey, at least it was a great excuse to look at my favorite picture of my dog, Harley Bocifius. : )

Dog Cookie Drive-Thru!

Things You Own But Definitely Didn’t Buy

There is nothing like moving to remind you of your own personal liquidity, or,  how much crap you have versus how much crap you actually want, use, like and need. Can you fit all in the back of a Sebring? That’s some pretty bohemian living and I salute you. Need a U-Haul? Jeez, consolidate man, it’s a studio apartment.

For those who have, currently are, or soon will flee the nest, the ability to fill a single vehicle with all one’s meaningful possessions is both exhilarating and frightening. Yes, you can blow like a leaf in the metaphorical wind, un-rooted and carefree. On the other hand, yes, this is ALL YOU HAVE. Makes you feel kind of insignificant, huh? Either way, the process of selecting what to fill a vehicle with causes you to ask yourself more than anything else, “Where did half this junk even come from!?”

Young adults have relatively little capital, and the majority of their major possessions have been financed through student loans, menial summer labor, or via the extreme generosity of family members. This accounts for 95% of your possessions, including the PS3 you bought after working at Dairy Queen for two months, the microwave your wonderful grandmother insisted she buy for you, and the way-beyond-your-current-means couch your awesome uncle gave you from his basement. And the other 5%? Those are the Things You Own But Definitely Didn’t Buy.

Pens and Pencils – This has been true, ever since the dawn of the Back-To-School Shopping trip. (And by the way, why did we always have to get crayons? I don’t EVER remember getting to use those damned things.) Of course, necessities are always purchased, but it seems the amount gathered every year is cut in half progressively, until by our senior year of college, we buy a single paperclip and call it good.

"Hey, does anyone have a pencil I can borrow?" "YUP."

Why is this? Because after years of schooling, meetings and work, we have amassed a quantity of office supplies that could sustain a small township’s operations for three weeks. Remember your pencil case by the end of the year in elementary school? It was the size of a fireplace log, and when you’d pour it out when you got home, your parents would ask, “Where did you get all of that stuff?” You’d shake your head, and in the only time you meant it sincerely as an adolescent, reply “I dunno.” Because you genuinely didn’t. You didn’t buy any of it. It had been amassed by months of finding, swapping and gathering.

This happens even more later in life as we pick up the free pen at a bank, or spy a fancy mechanical pencil on the floor of the lecture hall. And if you had a class in a room with any sort of design, engineering or art class occurring prior to yours, the room was a writing utensil utopia. Graphite as far as the eye can see! We can blindly reach into our bags on the spot and pull out any number of pens, pencils, markers and packs of lead. Where did these come from? Who knows. Did we buy them? Definitely not.

Plants – This is another puzzler. Provided you aren’t some chloro-filled (pun) maniac who decided to turn their dining room into an indoor replica of the Brazilian Rainforest, many plants in your dwelling are likely to be an inheritance rather than a purchase.

This notion struck me a couple weeks ago, and upon realization, years of plant interaction replayed in my mind, in a “Whoa. Plants.” moment. And yes, I know how weird “plant interaction” sounds. I like it. While visiting a family friend, I noticed numerous plants inside, sunning by the windows to keep them from dying in the late-winter cold. I inquired about them, which eventually led to an explanation of their origins.

Mine is named Henry.

“This one came from your mother actually, these two are from my parents, a friend gave me this one, and this one grew when I broke off part of this one over here when it was getting too big and planted it.” Literally none of them were things she went and got herself. (Not that there is a thing wrong with any of that.)

In my limited (and combative) experience with plants, I have never bought one myself, but have had many, all of which promptly died. I was given a peace lilly once that I liked so much, I immediately turned it over to my mother to ensure its longevity as well as a hand-me-down cactus from a friend who had owned (and admitted to ignoring it) it for years. That one died on me two weeks after taking possession of it. These in addition to numerous other small potted indoor flowers which also died/never grew. At this point, I’ll never buy a plant because it’s an obvious waste of money in my case. But if you ever want to kill one, loan it to me. I’ll take good care of it, and you’ll get it back in a few days completely shriveled. Go figure.

T-Shirts – This is pretty much limited to the four (or six) years you spend in college, but it is incredibly easy to amass a closet full of tees for the low price of fo’ free if you know what you’re doing and don’t mind being a walking advertisement. The most important time for acquisition is during freshman orientation and the annual welcome week. The many university-sponsored events will have plenty of opportunities to fill out a card with false information for free shirts (Name: Dice Milk. Address: 911 Butt Street, Smelly Land, 99999), participate in silly contests offering free shirts, and full of large crowds, seemingly without purpose, where someone at the front will be tossing – you guessed it - free shirts.

Always keep an eye open for opportunities during the year, such as new business openings, cook-offs (local pizza places are the best for this), club meetings you will attend only once, tailgates and lastly, election season is a fantastic time to snag some free tees, assuming you don’t have any political principles keeping you from wearing certain free attire. Granted, you’ll end up looking like half the other kids on campus using this tactic, but now the five shirts you DID buy will be nice and fresh for the weekend.

As an additional Pro-Tip, get to potential shirt-receiving functions early, as you surely won’t be the only one with that plan. Especially if you’re not an L or XL, as the outliers M and XXL are always the first to go. Preparedness is key. Early birds get the shirts, and the ones who dilly-dally wind up with pens and pencils, and we’ve already been over that.

Framed Art – This is something else usually limited to the years during college and slightly beyond, due to the demographic’s limited disposable income, and the “quantity over quality” mindset it instills. Who out there has some nice framed works; photos, paintings or drawings? Bet you didn’t buy them or have them framed yourself. Have you ever HAD something framed properly? (No, that $8 plastic Meijer frame does not count.) Me either! But I’m told it’s expensive as hell. And don’t even start on triple matting, that’s some next-level, upper-crust living.

Grow Up, Weirdo.

The secondary reasoning behind this, besides the fact it’s freaking expensive, is because hanging some classy home décor has a surprisingly inverse affect for those trying to utilize its aesthetic qualities. Why is this you ask? Because hanging framed art of legitimate quality brings out by comparison the complete squalor inherent in all things surrounding it. In a studio apartment with walls bulging from multiple painted-over putty repairs, the oversized film-reel posters from your favorite crappy movie and the life-sized cut-out of Boba Fett, a framed work would only go to show what a complete idiot you are at interior decorating and how far you are from living in a domicile fit for an adult. Why would you buy something that makes you look even more pitiful than you already are?

Yeah, I know that canvas rubbing from a Turkish temple your aunt’s friend made is beautiful, except nothing else you have is, so it goes from cultured and interesting to garish and forced. Nobody would fault you for appreciating it, but the dichotomy of slop versus sophistication it creates is far too bizarre to force upon anyone, let alone yourself. Save your claimed and gifted framed pieces for when you can afford to go all out on some of your own, and THEN create a living space that actually goes well together. All this of course, only pertains to people who give a crap what their place looks like. But those who don’t give a crap aren’t about to be buying things either, are they?

Your Entire Music Collection – Don’t act like I see that 275.47 GB iTunes collection and have no clue what you’re up to, you card. But hey, as long as I get to hear every Akon song ever and "Party In The USA" at your party, I won’t be complaining.

Things That Are Never As Good As You Expect Them To Be

Woof.

As a species, human beings have a predisposition towards optimism. When faced with the most dire situations, human nature will stop at no length to find something that rationalizes enduring an experience. This is a very good thing because in short, the world can be a terrible place. Optimism is as much of a defense mechanism to help us get by, as it is a personality trait.

However, there is a drawback to our hope springing eternal. For all the things it helps us surmount, it has an unfortunate tendency to develop expectations for events in our own minds that are nearly unattainable when evaluated against the standard of reality.

How many times have we heard a friend (okay fine, casual acquaintance) say “OH MY GAWSH, I can NOT wait for Spring Break!” or seen a Facebook status like “~`~**SiX FlAgZ ’11 –wIt DA Crewwww <3333 **~`~”  Probably more times than you’d like to admit, given that you’re 23 and have been seeing that annually for the past six years. As a sidenote, that took about 4 minutes to type “properly.” My God.

These expectations cause us to overlook the negatives of many a situation, both before the fact for motivation and afterwards to preserve an event as a cherished memory. But if we take off our rose-colored glasses and look back, plans usually fell far short of the reality of a situation. To paraphrase the Geto Boys, your mind’s playing tricks on you.

There are a few things in life that seem to come up again and again as topics that we over-value with our optimism, yet rarely, if ever, turn out as well as we hoped. This is a list of topics to approach with caution in the future. Things that turn out like a bag of popcorn that never pops in the microwave, or a cookie that smells 10x better than it tastes. These are Things That Are Never As Good As We Expect Them To Be.

Imagined: This.        Reality: Not This.

Summer – Summer is by far the most obvious example of this phenomenon, but year in and year out, it remains the most glaring case of expectations failing to live up to reality.  This isn’t to say summer totally sucks, because it doesn’t. Summer is totally awesome. But what we make summer out to be before it comes, and what we actually accomplish during those three short months are almost always two completely different lists.

The biggest reason for this is the lead-up to summer itself. After six (or nine) months of frozen ugliness and anguish, we have a pressing need to do every fantastic thing possible we weren’t able to do before. This is why our summer plans discussed in April and May look more like “beach everyday, bonfires every night, boating, swimming, tanning, biking, hiking, 5,000 concerts, 400 road trips and hanging out with friends 30 hours a day,” rather than the September review that reads “worked a menial, under-paying job 35-50 hours a week, only had two weekends off all summer, went biking once, sat in friend’s basement on a Wednesday and had two beers, got a couple really bad sunburns the only times I got to go to the beach, car broke down and the weather rained out a bonfire the only night all my friends had off at the same time.” Yikes, right?

No matter how many times summer burns us (pun) we never give up on it, for the sole reason that even at its worst, summer is better than winter at its best. And if we ever actually do have a summer as fantastic we imagine, it would be the summer of a lifetime. So as far as summer goes, don’t stop believing Steve Perry, but sprinkle in a few realistic goals while you’re at it.

Partying – I’d like to clarify that like summer, this is not on the list to say partying sucks. Because it doesn’t. But like I mentioned previously, rare is the night out that ends the way we had hyped it up to be.

The build up to partying usually revolves around needing a “release.” “Oh man, work was killer this week, I just gotta cut lose and get BUCK,” or “I can’t even remember the last time I had a good time, we need to get crazy Friday!” are just a couple thoughts that take us down the slippery slope of partying expectations. So what is it that always lets it down when it comes to partying? An insatiable need to overdo it. Every. Time.

It may just be the American in us, our own Manifest Destiny, the pursuit of happiness or delusions of grandeur, but the “one is good, two is better, three is best” mindset dominates the thought process of the partier. And yes, three may be best when you’re starting off. Unfortunately, that mindset seems to be more prevalent around drink 12 rather than drink two. What you had hoped would become a night of socially lubricated reminiscing and laughter with friends, music, dancing and potentially meeting someone new, can quickly become a bitter argument, a broken ankle and locking yourself in the bathroom to text the one person you absolutely, positively should not. Oops.

Yeah, you've got to clean up at some point too.

Some of the best memories had with friends very well may be the ones you made at your favorite watering hole, or bouncing around the town until the wee hours of the night, but keep in mind what you need to do to have a great memory – REMEMBER IT. More often than not the best nights are the unscripted ones where we go with the flow, and the ones with details planned to the millionth degree never quite get there because we focus too much on meeting a predetermined milestone rather than enjoying the here and now – and when I say “focus too much,” I mean “drink too much.” Our own perceived infallibility is what lands partying on the list of things that never quite live up to expectations.

Relationships – This makes the cut, merely by examining it analytically. The main reason humans engage in relationships is the pursuit of a life shared with someone they prefer over everyone else (and other things too, hurr-hurr). Based on those parameters, most people encounter this connection only once, or maybe twice, taking into account unfortunate life events like death and divorce. Chances are, the person who completed your search wasn’t the first person you were ever interested in.

Every moderately serious relationship starts out with the same optimism, otherwise you wouldn’t be wasting your time dealing with a person if you didn’t see potential in them. Thusly, every time someone doesn’t wind up fitting the bill as your ideal match, that’s another failure of expectations. People can go their whole lives trying to find their perfect partner. With some, it’s due to REALLY unrealistic expectations, and others just seem to strike out because of misfortune and happenstance, but both are examples of relationships failing to live up to expectations.

Do notice though, that I pluralized relationship. Because if you’re lucky enough to find one that works, it should balance out all the other times they didn’t. Isn't it nice how that works?

Sports – Yes, I’m going there.

As an irrational sports fanatic, I fall victim to this letdown probably more than anything else in life. There is nothing like the optimism a brand new season provides. Personally, I’d rather go to work on Christmas than on Opening Day, and I can never sleep the night before the first college football Saturday every year. Sports provide the most stirring moments of human drama, touching both ends of the spectrum, from euphoric joy to soul-crushing heartbreak. They are the reason we all still believe in miracles and the notion that on any given day, any team or person can triumph over the other, odds be damned, is genuinely present in few other situations in life.

It’s also why sports turn us into total idiots.

“Any given day” is the armament that allows us to believe that this is the year our favorite teams have their magical seasons and conquer all comers on their pre-destined journey to the title of Best In All of The Land. And while it is fact that anyone can potentially beat anyone else at anytime, it’s a fact that gives us only an inch, yet we take that inch and another 63,359 inches to make up a mile of ignorance time and time again. There is a lot more at play in the realm of sporting competition than success by virtue of chance, but when that’s the only chance your team has at winning, it seems to be good enough.

That is exactly how and why I take it upon myself annually to tell every person I know that THIS is finally the year the Orioles break out and win the most unlikely World Series ever. My lunacy has been going on for a good decade now - but wait! This year they started out 6-1 and it looked like I finally had the Orioles of old, and I laughed and hollered their praises to the heavens. But after following that start with a more familiar 2-10 streak (and counting), my mighty Oriole turned into a crow, dropped dead in the air, just like they did in the AL East standings, and fell onto my dinner plate. As they say, “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

DURRELLASAURUS.

Thankfully there are those special seasons that come along juuuuuust often enough to keep us from giving up completely due to the constant disappointment from our favorite teams. MSU basketball’s run to the Final Four in Detroit? Bliss. The Tigers going from almost being the worst team in history to the World Series in a few short years? Amazing. The Rich Rodriguez era at Michigan? That was like 4 Christmases, 11 birthdays and 22 Independence Days rolled together. These things happen to us and we rejoice, or we see them happen to others and hope. They are all the inspiration we need for a lifetime of blind faith and unfettered expectations.

The bond fans have with their team is a tight one, and it’s the reason we want them to do well so fervently. It also is why the people who love their teams the most are the ones with the expectations left most unfulfilled. They have their “realistic” expectations for what they truly know should happen that year, but every bounce that goes the right way is a flutter in their hearts, and every last second win or upset is surely an omen more good things will continue to happen. If you wish hard enough, they can do it, right? ANGELS IN THE OUTFIELD, RIGHT!?

They can’t help themselves, and that makes sports a special kind of letdown, because they know better, and they know that they know better. (And yes, when I say “they,” I also mean “me.”) So please don’t get mad at them. Take pity. But not on Cubs fans, they’re just being stupid at this point.

Hey Mossy (2011 Birthday REMIX)

Gotta Listen While You Read: Kanye's Original

Hey Mossy (2011 Birthday REMIX)

I wanna tell the whole world about a friend of mine,

This little light of mine and I'm finna let him shine.

I'm finna take ya’ll back to them better times,

I'm finna talk about my Ryan if ya’ll don't mind.

I was 20 years old, when you and I moved to the Short,

Late December, harsh Stats Exam gave me a cold,

You fixed me up something that was good for my soul,

Famous left over Pizza House, can I have another bread bowl?

You work late nights just to set on fire the lights,

Ryan got training wheels so he could keep on a girl’s bike,

And you would give anything in this world,

Brian Hoyer custom cardboard standup, but didn't show me his curls.

And you never put no shot over me,

And I love you for that Ryan cant you see?

20 years old, caught you with tears in your eyes,

Cuz the Crunchy’s bouncer cheatin’, telling you lies, then I started to cry,

As we knelt on the alley floor,

I said Ryan, I’mma love you till you don’t want Pizza Nugs no more,

And when I'm older, you ain’t gotta work no more,

And I’mma get you that duplex that we couldn't afford.

See you're kinda breakable but unmistakable,

Highly capable, Ryan that's makin’ loot,

A livin’ legend too, just look at what heaven do,

Sent us an angel, and I thank you (Hey Ryan)

(chorus)

Forrest Gump mama said, life is like a box of chocolates,

My Ryan told me go to class, get your doctorate,

Somethin’ to fall back on, you could profit with,

But still supported me when I skipped and partied at Rick’s a lot,

Now I feel like it's things I gotta get,

Things I gotta do, just to prove to you,

You was getting through, can the choir please,

Give me a batch of Lower Bowl Izzone seats, fo free?

Can't you see, you're like a book of poetry?

Maya Angelou Nicky Giovanni, turn one corner and there's Pop Mossy.

Come on Ryan just dance wit me, let the whole world see your house party,

Now when I say WET, ya’ll say PARTY, now everybody answer me (come on)

(chorus)

I guess it also depends tho, if my ends low,

Second they get up you gon get some Bell’s-0,

Tint the windows, ride around CRMC and let Goodsir know (Hey Ryan)

Tell your job you gotta take the weekend out,

Since you brought me in this world, let me take you out,

To Smokey Bones, upper echelon.

I’mma get you a G8, whatever else you want,

Just tell me what kind of leg room Ryan Wall like?

Tell me the perfect color so I make it just right,

It don't gotta be Notre Dame, or your birthday

For me to just call and say (Hey Ryan)

How To Own A Vehicle In Northern Michigan

Michigan’s rich automotive history is one any person with cognitive capacity beyond that of a preschooler is aware of, so not surprisingly, the relationship most of the state’s denizens have with their vehicles borders on, if not passing into, the familial.

Unfortunately, many people are frighteningly ill-suited to be in control of a brood, with their concepts of responsibility running perpendicular to the requirements of parenting. In similar fashion, the judgment displayed on the roads of Northern Michigan in regard to automobiles leaves me with a brow furrowed deeply over people’s qualifications to own their vehicles. Thankfully, the actual skill of driving is generally one I’m not concerned with up here, given that a fair percentage of people on the roads have been operating heavy machinery longer than they have known their times tables (assuming they ever learned them). It is not what people chose to do with vehicles that makes me cringe, but what they chose to do to them.

Apparently it takes a special kind of hoopty to cut it in Northern Michigan; ones you don’t see anywhere else in the state. The Upper Peninsula is excluded from that statement, but they have a separate set of problems. So listen carefully if you plan on picking up a couple babes from the Gold Nugget, impressing your bros in the high school parking lot, or letting all the haters in town know you have a garage-based drug operation without ever opening your 18-toothed mouth. 
This is How To Own a Vehicle In Northern Michigan.

Step 1: Selecting Your Style

There are two options here, and you can make your selection by answering one simple question:

“Am I an American Badass or Waaaay Extreme?”

If you’re an American Badass, you better already have a Big Three affiliation because you’re getting a pickup, Joe Jack. Your truck is legally required to be at least 12 years old, all manner of debris must be scattered throughout the bed (tailgate optional) and there must be at minimum a 3-inch diameter hole in your muffler. Entire muffler removal using errant swipes of a hammer's claw and blind yanking is recommended. You’re going to be doing a lot of hardcore stuff in your truck so it also needs to have a lift kit, because who knows when you’ll need to straddle a 3-foot tall stump on your way to the grocery store for Mountain Dew and Slim Jims? Make sure the seats sit low enough in the cabin so that you won’t ever need to look out the top eight inches of the windshield. You’ll be using that later. Dual rear tires are a bonus if you can get them, as they increase the amount of mud you can sling, and the girth of the ruts in front yard of your girlfriend’s parents house.

Immaculate.

But if you’re Waaaay Extreme, you’ll be bumming Newports off the ladies in no time with your import coupe (Dodge Neon if ‘yer colors don’t run). Four doors are overkill because the cramped rear quarters help increase the safety of your three seatbelt-hating buds when you’re going 85 down a seasonal road. Plus, you need to reserve the passenger seat for your boombox to play sick jams, since that Monster Magnet CD jammed your player last summer. A coupe will also prove chivalry isn't dead when you valiantly fold down the front seat so your number one girl can grab her books and get to Geography class on time. Of course, your car needs to be low enough to the ground to skin the top off any road kill you may pass over, and don’t you dare have your front tires the same size as the rear. DON’T YOU DARE.  Speaking of tires, they need to be completely bald to let you do sick nasty Tokyo Drifts when taking corners. If your vehicle has traction control, you better turn it off or cut wires until you're sure you got rid of it.  Plenty of trunk space is also necessary to house the tinted front headlight covers after 7 p.m., skateboards and your strobe light. You need that for partying.

Step Two: The Exterior

Rock 'n' Roll Baby!

After getting your vehicle, you’ll want people to know who is coming, so they can tell everyone how cool you are in your new ride as they split a can of Skoal. The first part of your exterior is picking the paint. It’s also the least important part, since your vehicle is bound to be missing it wholesale. Paint is particularly a non-issue if you’ve got a truck, since if it isn’t covered in mud year-round, you aren’t doing it right. It’s also unimportant because the salt and dirt you will refuse to wash off will just eat it away. Carwashes are for high-falootin’ show-offs.

Paint is more important however, on the low slung road racers. If at all possible, make sure to take a two toned approach with strong lines to express how fast your car is. I have seen spray painted vehicles more times than I would care to, including spatter covered head and tail lights, windows and mirrors, and a flat, dull finish on a car that doesn’t need to be primed for anything other than a junk yard. Painting your hubcaps is a display of creativity too, telling everyone you’re a free spirit who refuses to follow convention. Chicks dig free spirits, so naturally, they’ve got to dig homemade orange plastic rims too.

Decoration is the other part that goes into your vehicle’s exterior fitting into Northern Michigan. While paint is an afterthought to your truck, décor is of the utmost importance, because it’s your own personalized showcase of badassery. The first decision that needs to be made is your flag selection, because not having a flag on your truck is like not wearing cowboy boots to church. You’ll need to decide first if you’re a Main Street country-boy (Stars’n’Stripes) or a backwoods, law-fighting 'shiner (Stars’n’Bars). The fact that you’re about as far as you can get from an actual Confederate state, that nobody you know is from a Confederate state, that you’ve never traveled south of Gaylord and your complete disregard for what that flag represents to millions of people is all inconsequential, because you’re a redneck rebel, and you know that rubbin’ IS racin’ dangit! In addition to the flag on your rear window (or dual-mounted flags for the truly bold), a “Calvin and Hobbes” caricature peeing on a Dodge/Ford/Chevy logo of your choice is obligatory. Should you even have a bumper, it needs to be covered in enough stickers that when you’re asked for your opinion on any topic, you need only point snarkily to the back of your truck as a response. Finally, remember that top eight inches of your windshield you wanted to avoid? That’s because the “If You Can Read This Flip Me Over” sticker goes there, of course. Because vehicle-to-human conversation is clever. The approach most adhere to while planning their truck’s motif is a simple yet effective acronym: WWKRD – What Would Kid Rock Do?

Classically Understated.

The first thing to do to your car is to tint every glass surface as dark as possible. “Oh wow, we can’t see who’s inside of that ’91 Civic,” they’ll all say. “He/She must be really important!” How right they are. The next logical step is to get a rear-window covering decal. In Northern Michigan, there is really only one option. A decal that says you’re intense, extreme, crazy, unpredictable and awake, all at once. One that tells everyone you’re aligned with an industry leader, and that you’re probably even a paid representative. You need a massive MONSTER ENERGY DRINK decal. The rule of thumb is that you can never have too many MONSTER stickers. Even if it reduces visibility, because it’s not about what you see, it’s that people see you and how extreme you are. A chrome license plate border of barbed wire is something you don't want to forget either, but not until you’ve maxed out your vehicle's MONSTER sticker capabilities.

Step 3: The Interior

Luckily, this part requires the least amount of effort, since most of your attention (and money) is focused on dictating what others think of your ride. Once you’ve picked out your truck, gotten it completely filthy, and aligned yourself politically with pithy stickers, you need to tackle the seatbelt. Chances are you'll need to cut your seatbelts out completely to prevent their accidental use, and wherever possible, it's important to cover things in hose-down plastic, because of your tendency to drive through swamps, creeks and high school football fields without doors. You will also find it helpful to modify your seats so that they require only one bolt be unscrewed for their removal – that way you can have a lawn chair anywhere you go.

With your extreme car, a consistent motif is important to show that you’re fashion forward. Flames are in this season, and have been every year since K-Mart started carrying steering wheel covers. Flame seat covers, headrest covers, wheel covers, pretty much flames everywhere you can imagine. Fire means fast. Maybe dragons will work if you can find them, but they’re usually spitting flames. An air freshener is helpful, since more often than not your car will smell of mystery fumes, but only in “Black Ice” scent.

Now, some of you may be reading this thinking I have embellished to the point of absurdity. Let me take this time to reassure you that I have not. Everything I have specified is something I have personally seen and no less than five other people can independently verify. For instance, here’s a truck I found the other month, that my buddy Pepe took a picture of and put on his blog, PBR Picante. There is plenty I have omitted, to shield you from the horrors as well as to preserve my mind from reliving the experience. I have lived among it, learned from it, and now most importantly, I have been afforded an opportunity to completely avoid it. And that’s a good thing.

Inferences Surmised Using The Transitive Property Relative To Musical Preference, or, What Your Favorite Hip-Hop Artists Say About You

TONY STARKS.

A link recently posted on Facebook by one of my buddies contained a list of rock bands and the assumptions that can be drawn about you if a particular artist happens to be your favorite. It resulted in a couple days of laughs, conversation and interpretation. Not bad for a Facebook link, huh? However, given that my friends have a near-encyclopedic knowledge of rock and metal, they got a lot more out of it. I was entertained, but on the relative periphery due to my comparative lack of in-depth knowledge of the genre.

What I did get out of it was a desire to find a similar list covering a subject matter I was more familiar with. I decided that in lieu of searching out such a list with my desired combination of music and editorializing, I would be much better served (and occupied) by concocting my own. So to be brief, this is what you have here; an extensive but not comprehensive list of “What Your Favorite Hip-Hop Artists Say About You!”

Aceyalone  - Your cupboard consists exclusively of bulk-sized boxes of cereal, because it’s all you eat for three meals a day.

Aesop Rock - You've never lost at Scrabble, and you’ve never played sober either.

Akon – You have three girlfriends, none of which know of the others. You’re considering adding a fourth.

Andre 3000 - You've covered every square inch of your bedroom walls with non-sequiturs and musings written with a Sharpie.

Asher Roth - Your parents paid for you to attend a large state university until they found out you carried a 0.87 GPA through your first year.

Beastie Boys - Your apartment used to smell like a week old party. Now it smells like Icy Hot, hard-boiled eggs and patchouli.

Big Boi - You've lived in the same place for 4 years and have literally nothing in the way of decorations. But you have 7 televisions.

Black Rob - You’ve never made a pop culture reference more than half the people in the room understood.

B.O.B. – Despite 20/20 vision, you wear non-prescription glasses and look over them occasionally for effect when reading around others.

Bubba Sparkxxx - You spent half as much on your car speakers at Wal-Mart as you did on the car itself. You also have adorned it with a large Monster Energy Drink sticker.

Chiddy Bang - You’ve spent hours scouring the Internet for a desktop background that’s “dope.”

Clipse - You’re successful and financially comfortable, but even your family has no clue what you actually do.

C-Rayz Walz – There is a constant war waging within you, over whether your disposable income this week should go towards another tattoo or a BB gun.

Da Brat - You've never held a job for more than three weeks. Ever.

Del Tha Funkee Homosapien/Deltron - You'll never understand why people get rid of futons because of their practicality and space saving properties, and thusly have collected four in addition to your own since your friends have upgraded to formal bedding and seating.

Drake - The only time your friends call is to ask you for help moving because your truck has a topper.

Dr. Dre - You’ve made daily Facebook statuses about how intense the first four days of P90X are, then stopped suddenly, never mentioning it again.

Dr. Octagon - There is a Twitter hash-tag your friends have devised, dedicated exclusively to the bizarre and non-sensical things you’ve said.

El-P - You own and frequently use a set of lawn darts. The original, dangerous and illegal kind.

Eminem - You moved to a new school in 10^th grade, and nobody at your old school noticed.

50 Cent - You manage to include in every conversation you have a sophomoric sexual euphemism that barely makes sense, if at all.

The Game - You have a superiority complex that would make Napoleon blush, while accomplishing less than your younger sibling, ten years your junior.

Ghostface Killah - You have five nicknames, all of which you gave yourself. And everyone calls you by them.

Gucci Mane - You’ll eat a bumblebee for $5.

G-Unit - You and your buddies had custom matching license plates made for the front of your cars.

GZA - You’ve been getting the same Rose Art set for Christmas every year since telling your grandparents Art was your favorite subject when you were 8.

Hieroglyphics - You spend your free time learning Sanskrit.

Ice Cube - You sold your Thunderbird for a Town & Country because it’s “practical.”

Immortal Technique - You work at a funeral home, gathering peoples’ bodies after friends and family call regarding a death. You REALLY love your job.

Insane Clown Posse - You’ve spent 35x the money over the years buying Styrofoam coolers than you would have if you bought a single reusable one.

Inspectah Deck - Your brother got you your job.

Jay-Z - You mail home favorable job performance reviews to remind your parents of how great you are.

J-Kwon - You also love "Piano Man" by Billy Joel.

Juvenile - You get a drink tossed in your face at least twice a weekend.

Kanye West - You’ve cursed and yelled at complete strangers for changing the iPod to a song not on the party playlist you made.

Kid Cudi - Your Saturday evenings end with you either in tears or declaring it the “BEST. NIGHT. EVER!” 

Kool Keith – You don’t have a wallet because you keep your money in your socks.

KRS One – People around you can hear every lyric to the songs you listen to in your headphones because you damaged your hearing at a concert in college.

Lil’ Jon - You made sure to get every single person in your grade to sign your senior year high school yearbook.

Lil’ Wayne - Your parents asked the neighbors to water their plants and feed the cat during their vacation, even though you’re still living in their basement.

Lupe Fiasco - Your other favorite band is Muse.

Mase - You had problems reading out loud in class in elementary school.

M.F. Doom – You upgraded your satellite package to get more cartoon channels.

Mos Def - You have a successful career but enjoy slumming once a week with Bell's-quality food and dive bars.

MURS - You hangout at a comic book store three days a week.

Mystikal - You have restraining orders against you from four different people.

N*E*R*D* - You don't understand why nobody comes to your parties anymore.

Ne-Yo - You wear fedoras to the bar and break dance by yourself at 7 p.m. in a place with $1.50 wells. Nobody ever joins you, but you know it's because they're all intimidated.

Obie Trice - You’ve gone up to someone on the street who you recognized from an old job and they had no idea who you were.

O.D.B. - You’ve stolen toiletries from the last three parties you’ve been to, out of necessity.

P-Diddy - You sublet a room from a friend for two months while between jobs and told him you’d pay him a lump sum after working and getting some extra cash. Except you never paid him the rent and no longer talk to him.

The Pharcyde - You’ve run up a tab at the bar and put it under the name of a guy you overheard ordering earlier in the night because you didn’t like how he looked at you.

Pharrell - You appeared on “Trading Spaces” and your best friend was mad for six months over what you did to his/her room.

Public Enemy - You’ve run for public office, not to win but to steal votes from someone you hate.

Rick Ross - You have five nicknames, all of which you gave yourself. Nobody calls you by any of them.

RZA - You speak five languages but can’t remember the last time you used them outside of ordering takeout.

Tajai - You scowl at everyone who talks to you before 2 p.m. and after 5 p.m.

Three 6 Mafia – Despite not losing any weight, you recently converted your whole wardrobe from XL shirts to Mediums, which fit perfectly

T.I. – You’ve threatened someone during a verbal altercation outside of a theater after watching “The Notebook.”

A Tribe Called Quest - You brush your teeth with baking soda.

Trick Daddy - All your silverware, plates and cups are Solo brand plastic.

Tupac - You’re fairly tech savvy, but still misuse the “CC” function in e-mails.

Spank Rock - You've blacked out while drinking more times than you haven't in the past year. On purpose.

Wu-Tang Clan - If someone asks you to do something you don’t already do every day, you will forget to do it.

Ying Yang Twins - You have seven Yomega Yo-Yos and use them weekly to keep them in working order, just in case.

Sidenote: I am well aware there are many artists/groups left out, either due to simple oversight, a lack of awareness or one of many other hundreds of reasons. With this being the case, I encourage you to add your own as you see fit, either in new submissions or your own versions of previously listed artists. Because It’s Fun!