My phone is dumb.

Maybe one day, when I can afford to purchase a smartphone and the ensuing monthly bills and apps, people will look at me with admiration in their eyes...or at least a sense of acceptance.

Until then, I shall remain an outcast. A lowly, wretched example of society's not-with-it.

A freak.

Expresso?

No, not the beverage. Besides that's 'espresso.'

I'm talking about the "interactive cardio system." Yeah. Sounds kinda cool, right?

Well, it is. It's basically like any standard bike you would find at the gym, but some GENIUS decided to go, "Hey, why not turn this into a video game and allow people to race against each other's times?"

Durrrrrr!!!!!!!! What a fucking great idea!

In any case, my YMCA has four of them and me and my brother are hooked. Seriously, you can't beat me. He can't, so that means you can't.

One of the best things about it - besides getting in shape and making those legs work into overdrive, and the video game part - is the fact that you can check your times, rank, and all types of statistics on their website. Yeah, awesome.

It's simple, too. You get on the bike, sign in, peddle away, and then check to see how you're doing when you're home on your computer.

I love the internet. Anyhow, check out the website for yourself!

"Facebook? No, thanks."

How many people do you know that aren't on Facebook? Or rather, how many people do you not know that are on Facebook?

Wait. No, go with the first one.

Not many I'd wager. I've got a few friends who are simply opposed to the idea of belonging to the Facebook community, and for all it's worth, their reasoning for not joining is as secretive as it is sucky, and well, non-existent.

Our conversations tend to go something like this:

Me: "So, you gonna join Facebook anytime soon?

Them: (snicker) "Uh, no."

"Why not?"

"Cause Facebook is lame."

"How is Facebook lame? You've never tried it. Come on, you signed up for MySpace..."

"Yeah, and how often do I check that?"

"They're completely different."

"I don't know. I mean, why would I want to join in the first place? To pretend I'm friends with people I've talked to once or not at all?"

"You don't HAVE to be friends with anyone. Just reject their freind request."

"Yeah, and then I'd feel bad."

"So, accept their friend request and then put them on hide. That's what I do. It works like a charm. No harm, no foul."

"Fuck that. Too much of a hassle."

"Whatever."

Pop-up Ads Galore

When did these things become so popular to throw on your website?

I go to IMDB and all of a sudden a gigantic stretch-down ad for Jurassic Park on blu-ray takes over my whole screen! I already own it on DVD, goddamnit!






















Wait a second, and then I go to ESPN and some video game trailer explodes into my face and nearly scares me enough to knock this over-priced "all natural" energy drink off my desk and onto these corduroy pants that I clearly need to wash. Yeesh.



























What's going on here? Do websites really need to shove this shit down our throats?

Isn't that what television is for?

No More Toying Around

It could only last for so long. My sanity, that is.

After months of putting up with post after unbearable post of the most deliriously moronic and delusional rants, I've finally decided to 'hide' a Facebook 'friend' that I kept around for the sheer pleasure of gradually making myself go insane.

This anonymous person that I will refer to as Z, is one of the rarities. After initially deleting him during my first few months on Facebook - in large part due to his absurd posts that I soon fell head over heels in love with - more than a year later, another request to be Facebook 'friends' popped into my inbox. For the sake of second chances, and considering how he is an absolutely harmless individual, I gave in - this is when the madness began.

Post after post after picture after music video of things and people that I found absolutely wretched and/or ridiculous soon began to pop up with more and more frequency. At first, I simply shook my head.

How ridiculous, I thought.

But then, over time, my soft pity melded into a white anger, and finally, eventually, into a state of acceptance and acute delirium where my confusion masked my hatred, soon allowing me to read and view these posts as something so bland, and so unremarkable, that they took on a life all their own.

Through the form of Facebook posts, Z's insipid taste and clueless and entirely deluded mind soon effected my own in a way I've yet to encounter. His posts were so stupid, so amazingly trite and beyond anything so standard as face value, that I was dumbstruck, awed by a brain so feeble and yet so confident, that not only did I second-guess my own mental stability, it wasn't long before I viewed Z as something superior to myself: a being so content in exactly what he is, so sure of himself and his posts, that I suddenly found myself seeking out and craving Z's next move.

Well, low and behold, after several months, maybe more, the curse, this mirage has finally come to a close. Why now after so many days? Why Z when I've hid so many more (112 of 313 for a 35.78 hide average) for so little?

You know, I don't have the answer. His posts were just so bafflingly good, so mind-numbingly...mind-numbing, that like any good drug, it just took me a while to kick it, and when I did, it was cold turkey all the way.

For your curiosity, here are a few of his posts, some recent, some classic:

"I enjoy walking in the rain I really do"

"Paranormal activity looks better everytime they come out with a new one"

"Going to cash my check"

"Going with my sis and bro inlaw to get the new transformers on bluray and have a nice movie night"

"Just punched out of work now home for food and sleep"

"my gift of self is raped my privacy is raped"

"cashing my check then buying my cell i wont feel naked no more!!!1"

"Playing my acoustic by the fire all night"

"It kills me to watch this fade and I realize its all shurade"

"enjoying 1 of the last summer nights alone"

"Wants to go cash my check but I'm not walkin"

"Aint nobody gets between me and my girl and i mean nobody"


Sure, this may not seem bad, but when you're bombarded with crap like this every hour, it all begins to blur.

I'll miss you, Z.

Turning Crap into Gold

I'm feeling a bit less cynical than I usually am today, so instead of berating fellow twenty-somethings for their inane Facebook posts or their pop culture interests, I figured I'd talk about a website that has helped me out in the past two days.



Sure, we all sell our shit, and about a year ago I can confess to having an odd fixation with selling said crap on Ebay - mostly old band shirts, DVDs, and unused Christmas presents. Of course, when I first started I got burned something bad when tabulating/estimating the cost of shipping, a couple times actually losing out on money (go ahead, laugh), but I've since comprehended the sinister ways of this auction giant, and now, well, even though I'm no longer selling with as much frequency/addiction, I still use its endless pages as a source of pricing information.

Two items in particular:

My 29th birthday just came and went, and I literally asked for one thing: an insanely bad-ass bronze Indian bust I came across at Todd's Farm in Ipswich/Rowley. The man who was selling it was asking for a little over $200, but I knew it had to be much more.

Low and behold, my folks handed it to me on my b-day, and upon doing a little research, I found it being sold online...on Ebay.

The second item was researched for my dad who had a vintage guitar of his cleaned and tuned up at Daddy's Junky Music a few weeks back. Although he remembers the original purchase price, he had no idea how much it costs in 2011, and although I had a guess, all we needed to do was check out...yes, Ebay.




















Ebay, another preposterously helpful Internet tool.

The Wi-Fi Look-at-Me's

Oh, you know who I'm talking about. Hell, you may be one of 'em.

They're the folks who bring their laptop wherever they go. On the train. On the plane. To class, to lunch and brunch and the park and the beach, anywhere within the Wi-Fi reach.


And why? To take notes? To look up stats? Maybe the girl at Starbucks with the summertime scarf is seeking to prevent the inevitable crash? Parting with such hardware, no, please, don't dare ask. I cannot, I will not, complete such an unthinkable task.

When, oh when, did lugging around your Mac become so awesomely cool? How much work can get done on a bumpy train next to an old sleepy fool? And the guy at the coffeehouse, yeah, he's staring you down, mentally undressing and impressing, while you, so clueless, so jaded, get your dainty kicks Facebook fucking around.


That's because you're a Wi-Fi look-at-me, a product of a vain generation. Where your thoughts, no matter how dull, your dreams, so lame, so null, and your evening and weekend plans, so important and oh-so great, take precedence over the concepts of dignity, subtlety, and easy-peasy social cues, concepts generally innate.


So, next time you head out, think twice, then think again, about this metal package held within. It's true, you're no better with or without, and by Lucifer's beard, it'll certainly won't raise your clout, because this thing, this sin, that you unfold and display, why, it's a Wi-Fi smug bomb, so for your own sake, and for the sake of your soul, forget it, reject it, please, just keep it away.