Saturday, January 28, 2023

These are the 250 uncharacteristic things I did from August 23, 2009 to August 23, 2010. For more background, check out my first post and the project parameters.

Sometimes other bloggers are cool enough to feature guests posts written by this dude. This is called a LAPSE IN JUDGMENT. Click here to check out a list of guest posts I’ve written for other blogs.

To find out a bit about the girl I was (or the parts of the girl I don’t talk about much here), check out my Infrequently Asked Questions series.

#248-250: After you spend an entire year challenging every single one of your beliefs, ideals and self-perceptions, you won’t hesitate for even a moment before letting your commenters and followers turn your day into a giant Choose Your Own Adventure. And you will love every friggin’ second of it. Promise.

#247: Some people are so entertaining and magnetic that it’s worth getting your armpit hair ripped out with hot wax just to spend twenty minutes with them. Cherish these people.

#246: Can’t lift the restraining order to force your Great Lost Love to finally have that closure talk with you? No problem — just hire an actor in his place! Just as emotionally satisfying. Plus, if you have break-up sex, it’ll be new and exciting again!

#245: Uh, hey, that thing I said about baseball 225 NTKOGs ago? Just go ahead and delete the whole anti-sports rant. What I meant to say was: “GO SOX!”

#244: Turns out catcallers aren’t nearly as verbose when you try to take them up on their sordid offers.

#243: Hiring a dude to imitate whale calls while you slowly jog: about half as degrading and twice as inspiring as you’d think!

#242: Writing love letters to dudes on the subway? You might want to spend a little less time perfecting your grammar and a little more time, uh, actually getting the friggin’ letter in their hot little hands.

#241: Turns out you don’t have to be mega-rich to hire a personal assistant. Although if you are mega-rich, you get way more latitude for stuff like throwing cell phones at their faces.

#240: Don’t know how to let the everyday extras in your life know you love ’em? Slap on an apron and whip up some thank-you cookies! ’cause y’know who hates cookies? Communists, dude.

#239: Turns out I’m kind of a shitty neighbor.

#238: Beautiful isn’t something you pull out of your closet or apply in front of the mirror. Beautiful is what you’re stuck with from the moment you wake up ’til you lay your wildly imperfect self back down to sleep.

#236 – 237: If you want someone to do you a favor, dude, just ask. The more obnoxious it is, the better, apparently.

#235: Karma schmarma — sometimes doing someone a good turn nets you free ice cream!

#234: My teenage poetry is so bad that it’s almost come full circle and become … oh, who am I kidding. It’s friggin’ AWFUL.

#233: Turns out the most vivid tattoo recipients aren’t always the best tattoo drawers. I mean, unless you like ninja eyes. (Or, uh, even know what that would mean.)

#232: You don’t have to have a beau (or lady-beau) to give someone flowers. Nothing says summer fun like just handing them out in the street!

#231: Whoa, not only is my floor so clean you could eat off of it — I’ve washed dishes recently enough that you don’t have to!

#230: Good LORD am I an awful jogger.

#229: I can now successfully tell a Hare Krishna from a Little Caesar’s Pizza mascot from five paces. Though apparently I give them both money.

#228: I finally tell off a mo-friggin’ jerk who has it coming! AND THE WORLD DOESN’T EXPLODE! (But later I end up apologizing ’cause, dude, I am what I am. And what I am is kind of a wimp.)

#227: I put my google calendar where my money is and strike up a correspondence with an underprivileged fourth-grader. Which, in my book, is kind of the opposite of Saving The Children.

#226: Want a netbook? Have an iPhone? I just saved you four hundred bucks.

#223 – 225: Despite the fact that I can’t even microwave oatmeal properly, a trio of highly domesticated NTKOGs. (Trigger warning: dinosaur-shaped baked goods.)

#222: To celebrate turning 24, I gave myself my favorite present ever: sending birthday cards to inmates who share my birthday.

#221: What’s cooler than being cool? (Not quoting Ludacris songs.) And what’s sager than being sage? Lessons in validation-giving from the local Whole Foods guru.

#220: Other people’s family tragedies aren’t anyone’s business. This one still makes my heart hurt.

#217 – 219: In retrospect, mad respect for dudes who trot out cheesy pick-up lines in bars. That business is nerve-wracking.

#216: In need of self-discipline? No problem! Just make the world your secular monastery.

#215: Drinking gin on the rocks: cool. Drinking gin through your eyeball: oh god make it stop.

#214: Some homeless people are kind of dicks. That’s basically the “people” part of the phrase coming into play.

#213: You always look so pretty when you smile.

#212: Turns out poverty and mental illness aren’t contagious. Even if they were, it’s way more likely you’d get ’em by forgetting to do the Dracula sneeze than by lending someone your stupid pens.

#211: Apparently you’re supposed to take your glasses off when you’re running. You’re also supposed to, uh, run.

#210: I love the internet so much I gave him a nickname (hey, Melvin), but one day I packed his router box and told him to move out of my apartment. Haven’t looked back yet!

#209: Yes, even after 900 pages of text, I have secrets I haven’t told you guys. Don’t worry, I hadn’t told anyone else either — until now.

#208: Some people care about balls and cleats and offsides. We call those people Brits. Or — once every four years — everyone else on the planet. (Including: waxed-mustache hipsters and Jesus lookalikes; excluding: TKOG.)

#207: I’m not a very great human being — not yet, anyway. But sometimes just trying is enough to make you feel a little bit better.

#206: People who can get away with calling strangers “sugar” or “honey”: anyone with a Southern accent. People who can’t: THIS GUY.

#205: Turns out you don’t need to visit an X-rated hypnotist to wind up ass-naked on a crowded bus. A $1.99 hypnotism iPhone app will do the honors for you.

#204: Getting rid of stuff you like. Pros: virtuousness; minimalism. Cons: being kind of a smug prick; crying when you hack off and throw away your beautiful manicure.

#203: You may be strong like bear and twice as good at holding your booze, but a twelve-mimosa brunch is a bit rich for any dude to handle.

#202: Your new unpaid job as a media darling is just two clicks away. Just so long as you don’t mind the Boston Globe accusing you of being an heiress wannabe. (Ouch.)

#201: Even in in this Puritan-loving City on a Hill, you can get away with sporting ceramic devil horns — just as long as you’re not too offended by the glares of passers-by.

#200: Sometimes domestic abuse forces itself into your living situation. Sometimes it is your responsibility to call the police. Sometimes there are no jokes to make.

#199: I may be typing this on a MacBook, while listening to an iPod and compulsively checking mail on my iPhone, but I’m still here to tell you that waiting four hours in line for Steve Jobs’s latest plaything is kind of a dick thing to do. Only worth it if you seriously need cupcakes at seven in the morning.

#198: How in god’s name did it take me 23 years and almost two hundred NTKOGs to finally drag my lazy, literary ass to a public library?! The Boston Public Library is my latest imaginary boyfriend and, entre nous, I think it’s here to stay.

#197: I … I kind of super love talking about myself. Opened myself up to questions and answered them all — even the ones I probably shouldn’t have. (Link takes you to full Infrequently Asked Questions series.)

#196: While I haven’t shot a man just to watch him die (too cliche at this point, frankly), I did shoot a freak in Coney Island just to … remind myself that I was still alive. On Coney Island.

#195: As any former bulimic can tell you, the only good thing about eating ice cream competitively is that it tastes almost as good coming up as going down. Urgh.

#194: My seventh-grade self always knew I’d read my poetry to a rapt audience one day. I just never imagined they’d be laughing so hard.

#193: You know those jackasses who take up vacant bus seats with their bags and purses just so you can’t snag a seat next to them? Apparently Massachusetts frowns on capital punishment in such cases (boo), so I tried the next best thing. Vigilante bus-tice!

#192: High-fiving strangers on the street may not automatically turn your life into a music video, but it will turn your okay afternoon into an awesome one.

#191: Hey, remember that time you were like, “Maybe not everyone on Craigslist is criminally insane! Maybe I’ll meet my soulmate there!” Uh, yeah, well, the next time you want to fantasize about COMPLETELY IMPOSSIBLE THINGS coming to pass, I suggest they involve Alec Baldwin drizzling butterscotch somewhere on or around your person.

#190: Recovering socialists probably shouldn’t get pedicures. Sort of sucks the fun out of the thing.

#189: Remember how awkward and loathsome you were in middle school? HA. You were the Junior Prom King Slash Queen, compared to the festival of horrors that was TKOG. As proof, I offer my own seventh-grade diary. (Warning: SEARING EMOTIONAL INTENSITY.)

#188: If you want to barge into a restaurant and hijack the restroom without asking, you should probably be made of a stronger constitution than I. Like, uh, the kind that doesn’t immediately erupt into guilt-induced projectile vomiting.

#187: Apparently the Executive Producer of the most successful hospital drama on television has better things to do than answer crackpot letters by a crazed grammar fiend. Hey, if Hugh Laurie were in my direct employ, I’d probably be too busy to deal with my correspondence too…

#186: Throwing the occasional movie-star wink into an interaction isn’t going to get you branded as a hussy, but it might end up making you feel like someone’s twitchy old uncle.

#183-5: Hey asshole. Stop traveling like an asshole.

#182: If you are an anxious traveler, do not leave less than half an hour to get through security and board an airplane. Not that it can’t be done, but the universe will smell your fear and conspire to throw every conceivable obstacle in your blotchy, tear-streaked face.

#181: Sure, vajazzling (ie: vagina bedazzling) might sound like an entry from a Playmate Of The Month “Likes” section, but it’s surprisingly fun and even kind of cute.

#180: Nervous traveler? Raging insomniac? Let me introduce you to my new favorite cocktail. I call it GINEDRYL.

#179: It’s nice to be nice! Even to dudes who have the misfortune of working for shitty phone company call centers. Bonus: an ounce or two of cheer can totally net you hundreds of dollars.

#178: I asked a homeless dude to help me out. He seemed really, really happy to acquiesce. So. That was actually really nice. (Even though I’m a total asshole and washed my hands a lot afterwards.)

#177: Here’s a novel thought, loves: if you get screwed over when making a purchase from a store? Just return it. I promise you’re not going to ruin the underpaid grocery clerk’s day.

#176: brOMFG. While I’m not straight-up saying that hanging with bros is more fun than dishing with your ladies, dude, you should probably do it every once in a while just to switch stuff up. Slash as an excuse to mainline chicken wings and Belgian brew.

#175: Tossing around the fact that it’s your birthday just might net you a little extra corporate love. But it never gets you free drinks from a bartender, so don’t even try that. Seriously, they hate that shiz.

#174: Anyone else ever get weird urges? To jump from the subway track, kick out the old dude’s cane, throw open the airplane door, etc.? Well all of those are downright wholesome compared to the urge to pluck all of yo’ pubic hair.

#173: Do not take Five-Hour Energy. Just do not. I mean, unless you wanna play pattycake with The Sadness Monster for the next six to eight hours.

#172: Passive-aggressive notes might not solve all your domestic disputes, but they’re also not going to get you beat up. ’cause that would be aggressive-aggressive.

#171: Turns out basically everyone has a cute little stuffed cuddle buddy they hang out with in the privacy of their own rooms. In the privacy of an Amtrak seat? Not so much.

#170: Sweet weeping lord, belly dancing is not for me.

#169: You can request a table for one at a restaurant. No one is judging you. Except maybe some people kind of are judging you.

#168: Homeless people will be calling you a stupid fucking cunt ’til the stars grow cold. Get used to it, sparky. Confronting them about being jerkwads will in no way appreciably improve your life.

#167: Despite all the buzz, washing your hair with a beer rinse doesn’t work up an earth-shattering shine. It also totally looks like you peed all over your tub.

#166: Don’t freeze beer. I don’t know what part of that sentence isn’t already obvious.

#165: So this alleged Ke$ha lady might be a closet-puking-in nutjob, but her oral hygiene is spot-on. Turns out you really can brush yo’ teeth with a bottle of Jack.

#164: If you pay someone for a service and they do a shoddy job, just politely ask them for a re-do. Then prepare to be talked shit about right to your face, obviously.

#163: Dude, what’s the point of writing if you don’t send shit to magazines? Seriously, stop reading this and start getting published. I did. (But, uh, afterwards you can start reading again, okay?)

#162: Awkwardly over-explaining yourself to various clerks and pedestrians doesn’t make you a bystander-accosting spaz — it makes you human. And you know what people like to do with humans? Give them free baked goods!

#161: Apparently the only thing psychics can tell from looking at my photo is that I might be chump enough to buy their ebooks. And then I snorted a couple of pixie sticks and wrote a page of the weirdest comments … ever?

#160: When TKOG goes a full week without slang (DUDE!), the strain causes her to spew hacked-up linguistic shrapnel in the subsequent blog entry. Hard hats on, please.

#159: Chances are you will ALWAYS REGRET not taking your clothes off or storming a revolution when you duck and weave through a phalanx of security guards to storm the stage in a Barcelona club.

#158: Ethiopian food: great. Flailing around and breaking friggin’ furniture in your quest to eat said food: …uh, for different values of “great”.

#157: Oh. My. God. DO NOT pay someone to rip out your pubic hair without ingesting a quart of gin beforehand. Also, if you insist upon reading a book to help dull the pain, might I suggest something a little less po-mo than Barthelme?

#156: If you type 110wpm for 18 hours a day, taking two hours off to get a fancy-pants manicure just isn’t worth the twenty bucks. Sorry, Ladies Who Lunch.

#155: Turns out something as simple as helping underprivileged girls choose donated prom dresses can give you a SERIOUS case of the warm-fuzzies. And the sequined-dress-twirlies.

#154: There is nothing cheesy and everything wonderful about taking some time every day to think about your progress as a human and as a writer. Also: if you mock Oprah, I’ll sock you.

#153: I swear this is the last blog entry I eke out of eating seafood. Which, for the record, still mortifies and anguishes me.

#152: Chocolate cupcakes. Stuffed with raw cookie dough. Wrapped around a Hershey’s Hug. Too much of a good thing? Ha, ’round here we call that Thursday night.

#151: You think you’ve epically struck out with guys? Ha. That’s cute. Welcome to THE GRANDDADDY OF ALL STRIKE-OUTS.

#150: Nine out of ten doctors suggest some clever combination of exercise, meditation and Ambien can cure your sleep woes. Meanwhile, TKOG: Fake Web MD suggests you hire a mercenary online Wiccan to cast a nightmare-banishing spell on your behalf.

#149: Pub crawls? Same old awkward social cesspool — now with 20% more 19th century wardrobe choices!

#148: Ladies who can actually wear high heels for more than two hours? I salute you. And your bunions.

#147: Drinking alone doesn’t make a bad day better. But it does convince you your singing voice is much more mellifluous than it actually is. Much to your neighbors’ friggin’ chagrin.

#146: Turns out the whole stereotype of a cafe-haunting writerly type WASN’T a bizarre myth propagated by Starbucks higher-ups. That shiz makes you ultra-productive!

#145: Screw what people think. Just get naked. (Er, in the gym locker room, that is. Doing so on a street corner is just about the only thing you can do weirder than carrying poetry quotes on giant posterboard signs.)

#144: Screaming at a customer service representative — even when it’s kind of merited — will just make you feel like a big dumb jerk. A big dumb jerk who still didn’t get what she wanted.

#143: In the eyes of pedestrians, carrying a street-corner sign automatically transforms you into human garbage — even if the contents of said sign are totally badass and not-weird.

#142: You’d have to be a pretty grim figure not to take joy in a massive pillow fight on a spring day. Maybe next week we can have a middle-school sleepover in Boston Common and all braid each other’s hair and prank call that guy Parker from the Drama Club!

#141: Whenever you’re tempted to go back on your word, just imagine the flinty and oddly sexy eyes of Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch. Then find a less drama-queeny convenience store owner who doesn’t force you to GIVE YOUR UNBREAKABLE OATH on trivial shit every fifteen seconds. I mean, honestly.

#140: Dreaming up April Fools’ Day pranks is more fun than executing them. Aw shucks.

#139: If you ever go out for shots at Chupitos in Barcelona? Don’t. Order. The. Lewinsky.

#138: On a crappy day, just smiling ’til your jugular develops a stress fracture isn’t enough to give you enduring happiness. But maybe it’s better that the alternatives?

#137: You win, passive-aggressive coughers! I quit smoking! (I still miss you, baby.)

#136: Okay, wino-sauce. You can go ahead and amuse yourself by decanting a bottle of wine into a soda bottle before picnicking in the park. But entre nous? Nobody gives a fig anyway.

#135: Leaving inspirational messages in books is so cheesy it doesn’t even feel like the blogt of a made-for-TV movie — it feels like the B subplot of a Savage Garden music video or something.

#134: I may not have a drug problem. I may not have a drinking problem. But I sure as hell have a “keeping my clothes on while riding various forms of transportation” problem.

#133: You don’t have to be famous to borrow an entourage. But if the guy you choose is too good a dancer, you’ll start feeling like a Turtle instead of a Vinny.

#132: All it takes is a little choreography, a lot of charisma, and a near-lethal BAC to karaoke a newfound male fan into taking off his shirt and begging you to sign his chest. FISTBUMP!

**No matter how much planning you do to ensure the perfect, drop-dead cinematic stranger ask-out, you can’t fight the fickle hand of fate (or the rapid-fire pulse of a hockey timer countdown).

#131: Rollies bear my wannabe-’40s-private-detective seal of approval, but let’s get serious here: how the hell are you supposed to chainsmoke ’em when you’re wasteyface?!

#130: So fun fact: the five-second rule applies like quadruple to pharmaceuticals. Especially if you, uh, just found them randomly laying on the Amtrak seat. (Also: my landlord thinks I’m a cokehead.)

#129: Neti pots are not nasal geysers. Gross, painless and therapeutic? Yes. Actually useful? Meh.

#128: Blowing bubbles everywhere you walk is a good way to: 1) help distract you while you quit smoking; 2) piss off those jerkfaces who walk around hating happiness.

#127: Sometimes the stranger who starts chatting with you at a restaurant is hungrier for your company than for the meal you pity-buy him.

#126: Do not try to compete with me in the “who’s had the worse hook-up” game. I WILL EAT YOUR FACE with the worst story you’ve ever fucking heard. One so bad, in fact, that it took me five years to go public with. (Seriously, go back and click that link.)

#125: When my kids are in their teens and want to start experimenting with drugs, I’m going to dope ’em up on Benedryl and slap a nicotine patch on ’em. Nicotine dreams will fuck. you. up.

#123 & 124: Sometimes if you tell the universe (via Craiglist) EXACTLY what you want in a man, you’ll be impressed by the high caliber of responses. But you still will not go out with any of the men, because the few you deem worthy of responding to will end up being crazy anyway.

#122: Regardless of whether it’s days, weeks or even years late, surprising someone with an impromptu Cadbury Creme care package always goes over well.

#121: Turns out modern medicine doesn’t just work by placebo effect. This is generally good news. Unless you brilliantly pop three Benedryl at 9:30AM at the office.

#120: If you insist upon reading all of Gone With The Wind on your iPhone during your commute, then when you get to the snotty-tearful parts, people will assume you just got text-message-break-up-ed. It’s your own damn fault.

#119: You know this gorgeous site design? The one you’re currently gazing at? Many thanks to the lovely LiLu for designing it for me!

#118: Yeah, Einstein, you should totally send a guy a Cocksucking Cowboy shot in front of his cute friend. No way that’s going to send mixed signals.

#117: If you compliment the dude who works at your bank, he’ll think you want to sleep with him. It’s the natural order, guys. And it’ll be awkward and annoying ’til that time you get to the door at 4:01PM on a Friday and need to make an urgent deposit. (Love you, Bank Boyfriend!)

#116: I don’t care if you have the heart of a lion and brute strength of a bear — if you don’t wear yellow latex dishwashing gloves, then you’re missing the frig out.

#115: Yeah, this post was mostly just a foodporn pic of homemade crackers. Don’t judge me. Do you see how many of these damn things I’ve written?!

#114: Killer hangover? Sure, you can drag your gin-soaked ass to the gym, but you’re going to end up hurling the gutter anyway.

#113: No matter how good a person you strive to be, you’ll always be an asshole compared to the luminously virtuous Save The Children canvasser across the street from your office. Give him some money anyway, though.

#112: Hey, guys, you know that movie stereotype of women getting together to call you an ass, vent about your most miniscule flaws, then burn effigies of you in a metal bowl on their chocolate-strewn coffee table? Hahaha, man that would never hap—-oh. Oh wait.

#111: In an unexpected curveball, it turns out bread can actually be made at home. Hope the Keebler Elves have a good labor union, in case this info goes public.

#110: Contrary to popular belief, there is official naptime for adults. It’s called restorative yoga.


#108: “Oyster” is apparently the french word for “shell full of snot”. Also, don’t ever invite me to your fancy work functions.

#107: Put down the bottle, padre. Drinking alone isn’t as fun as Lifetime movies make it out to be.

#106: It may make your skin crawl with repressed-emotion WASPy discomfort, but sometimes encouraging a heavy-hearted stranger to vent to you is just the right thing to do.

#105: There is one magic sentence that will serve you in good stead, ladies, if you decide to barge into the men’s room instead of waiting in line behind a million ladies. And no, it’s probably not the sentence you’re thinking.

#104: Go ahead and channel Ma Ingalls in the kitchen — turns out it makes your food cheaper and tastier. Just — just don’t channel her in the bedroom, okay?

#103: When a lousy, no-good ratfink of a commuter ruins your morning, go ahead and pop him one. All the old ladies on the train who wish they could have done the same thing will revere you as a Train Hero.

#102: I gave you guys a friggin’ iPod. Don’t say I never did anything for you. (Smooches!)

#101: If you get wrong change at a store, you could ignore the embarrassment and the cashier’s snottiness and DEMAND WHAT IS YOURS. Or, uh, not, because honestly? Avoiding embarrassment might just be worth the price of admission.

#100: You can give a commuter a Kleenex, but you can’t make him blow.

#99: Want to to sneak into a party with tight security? No problem! Just come up with a good cover story, stockpile your panache and … sneak in through a back door with zero fanfare.

#98: As far as I’m concerned, you get some points for attempting to be brave, but when you’re trying to get over your intense fear of heights? Don’t push yourself too far, too fast or else you’re just going to end up terrorizing some five-year-olds with your fluent and creative grasp of swearing.

#97: NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER PICK UP A GUY ON THE SUBWAY. (Is that enough “ever”s? Probably not.)

#96: Turns out you can remove your unwanted upper-lip, eyebrow, leg, toe knuckle and pubic hair with the contents of a travel sewing kit. I’m not actually suggesting that youshould do this. Just, y’know, point of interest.

#95: Sneaking onto the subway without paying your fare: totally doable; not worth the mental agitation. Just pay up, chump.

#94: Speaking of food budget, you can apparently keep yours at rock bottom without eating nothing but peanut noodles. My readers have expressed this to me; now I’m just trying to convey it to the five pounds I put on during this week-long experiment.

#93: Turns out obese squirrels will do absolutely anything to get their paws on a peanut — including climbing on and about your person (and much-beloved fedora). Keeping this in mind in case my food budget goes any lower.

#92: Tell your friends you love them today.

#91: Dude, stripping down and getting your bits airbrushed at a spraytan parlor is actually completely fun and non-awkward — and you really do look great afterwards. Let us band together and RECLAIM SPRAYTAN from its Jersey Shore social exhile.

#90: Posting a Craigslist missed connection ad may not net you the love of your life (or even a decent book recommendation), but isn’t it worth a shot?

#89: You can ride the subway WITH NO PANTS. Guys. You can RIDE THE SUBWAY WITH NO PANTS. This is not illegal, and the only people who glance at you askew are spinsterish blue-hairs who whap you reprovingly with their canes. And the cane hits your leg. Your bare leg. Because you are FLYING PANTSLESS, you beautiful bastard.

#88: Bloggers are extremely cool dudes, and most emphatically worth meeting in real life! Plus, lots of them have self-diagnosed social anxiety disorders too, so when you tell them you spent the forty minutes prior to the meet-up skulking hyperventilate-ily in a foyer, they won’t judge you.

#86: Hey, you know those foods you’ve sworn up and down your whole life that you’ll never like? Just having the willingness to try doesn’t mean you’ll start liking them…

#87: …especially if you try to ease into them but your doucher friends start your sushi trek with sashimi and you end up vomiting discreetly into your napkin then wondering how to politely dispose of it.

#85: It’s worth sacking up and asking that cute guy at the bookstore out. Even when he brushes you off, at least you’ll have the peace of mind of not ending every fight with your future husband: “I should have married the guy in the motorcycle jacket at the Booksmith!”

#84: Go ahead. Send a drink to your long-time trivia nemesis. You’ll still never figure out whether s/he’s a male-to-female transsexual.

#83: You can strike up a conversation with the dude sitting next to you on an airplane, sure, but once you get to gabbin’, faking death might be your only way out.

#82: Blackjack is apparently where people just give you free money. Sweet.

#81: Private karaoke rooms feel weirdly like sex motels. You rent them by the hour, can’t look the clerk in the eye afterwards in case he heard you, and the management secretly makes DVDs while you’re in there.

#80: When you’re speculating on the lives of other people sitting in a bar, why not just approach them and ask them to confirm your speculations? Then afterwards they can speculate on what a jerk you are. Win/win!

#79: Sluts and hula hoops are to theatre as bacon is to food. (Pink? Curved? Kind of greasy? AND UNIVERSALLY APPEALING.)

#78: It is useful to have a blog where people feel like they know you. That way, when you go on a kleptomania binge, they will validate your actions in the comments section even though you still feel like kind of a jerk.

#77: Sometimes you meet your soulmate on public transportation but he’s like kind of Asperger’s-y. If this is the case, it’s okay for you to take the lead and give him your number.

#76: Old people who like to shout at joggers in the street totally don’t take it as good as they give it. Goddamn old people.

#75: Stealin’ stuff out of a dude’s pants is actually an okay conversation starter and might net you a free drink (or get you forked).

#74: Karma. It’s a thing.

#73: If you’re a bad enough dancer, sometimes the universe just hands you money. (On the stipulation that you never dance again.)

#72: No tickets available to an exclusive event? Just show up and ask the bouncer if you can get in. THIS CAN ACTUALLY WORK.

#71: When you let other people make your decisions, they let you buy delicious carbohydrates and expensive soap. These people are called salespeople. They are your friends.

#70: If you hit on every dude within three seconds of noticing him, all you do is save a few extra minutes before inevitably realizing that every dude in the bar is a loser.

#69: Sometimes trying desperately to do the right thing is basically about the same as doing nothing.

#68: Nobody can dance. This doesn’t make it any less embarrassing when I try.

#67: The ol’ “spit out everything you chew into a bucket without swallowing” diet, while good on paper, is actually more tedious than it is gross or useful.

#66: You really can cut people in line just by asking. Holy shit. Cheat code for reality.

#65: Don Draper: sexy as all get out. Modern-era chauvinistic dudes who just wish they were Don Draper: will make you cry and then stress-eat Hershey’s Kisses.

#64: Taylor Lautner: he’s not-so-hotner.

**Weirdly, the word portrait of dogs eating semen IS NOT the weirdest part of my mother’s guest post about the really quite true story of my conception.

#63: When walking on the street, you can sing like nobody’s listening — ’cause even if they are listening, they don’t care.

#62: Long, platinum-blonde wigs? Probably not a good choice for deep-voiced flamboyant dressers who have broad shoulders and stand six feet in heels.

**Sometimes in Canada male strippers will let you high-five their floppy penises and THAT IS CALLED JOURNALISM. Amazing guest post by the lovely sandyb.

#61: Good first date conversation: “Where did you go for undergrad?” Bad first date conversation: “I like to mentally list the presidents in chronological order when I’m doing things that you do better when you’re not concentrating on them. Like orgasms.”

#60: Turns out the Jesus of Suburbia is a middle-aged woman who wears glasses and has no respect for right-of-way laws; also, cops can be racist.

#59: In the shower today: take a squirt of your usual shower gel; add a double-handful of granulated sugar; mix into a very thick paste; rub vigorously on skin; come over here so I can lick you. I AM NOT KIDDING. Except about the licking.

#58: I, like that dude in The Pina Colada Song, am nobody’s poet. (But still suckered somebody into publishing a few of mine.)

#57: Turns out the unwashed masses didn’t earn that little epithet by smellin’ pretty.

#56: If you are a bartender who, while pouring single-malt scotch for a lady, sighs: “That’s a man’s drink,” then stop reading this and call me.

#55: It seems that most people do not actually enjoy reading awkward erotica about pubic hair getting caught in people’s teeth. And to those people I say: screw you! And perhaps I will engage in profoundly awkward pillowtalk while doing so!

#54: Apparently someone reading this site really wants to hook up with his godmother. I’m thinking about increasing my market share in this niche demographic.

#53: I know you’re lazy. I’m lazy too. This doesn’t mean we can’t band together and drastically reduce our paper towel consumption.

#52: If you use a Porta Potty, not only will you get someone else’s dang urine all over yourself, but you’ll probably make a public restroom attendant almost cry and also your mother will make fun of you a lot in your blog comments.

#51: I don’t want to touch you.

#50: Blowjobs are awesome. As are — surprisingly — those girly sex seminars that teach you the ins and outs of oral sex!


#48: Music is kind of like a novel for your ears, but at the end of the day, dude, don’t turn your back on literature.

#47: Hockey is basically the greatest sport since … uh, public flagellation?

#46: If you offer it nicely, passersby don’t mind the occasional unsolicited advice.

#45: Tyra was right! Live eyes totally work! They’ll make your totally-hot-but-maybe-not-actually-hot work-crush talk to you!

#44: Although I can’t get away with ditching it entirely, turns out my hair requires waaaaaay less shampoo than I thought. Yours might too?

#43: You know that thing you’ve been really scared to do for as long as you can remember? Just do it. It’ll be okay. ALSO! It is less uncool to accidentally get somewhere ten minutes early than it is to skulk around behind draperies in order to make an on-time entrance. Just sayin’.

#42: Want a discount in a store? JUST ASK.

#41: If the service is reaaaaaaaaaally bad enough, not even this bleeding-heart feels guilty about stiffing someone on the tip.

#40: Tween pop bands will not sign your breasts. Probably with good reason.

#39: When you pull the “Bank Error In Your Favor!” card from the Community Chest of life, dude, sometimes reporting the error to said bankonly results in good karma. (But if I had to do this again, I probably wouldn’t press my luck.)

#38: Sitting down with a total stranger at a restaurant can lead to a great conversation. Or it can lead to tales of drunk driving and a mouthful of seriously mangled teeth. Choose your victims wisely.

#37: Nobody cares if you change your dang clothes in public. But it might cause scary-conservative homophobic German dudes to chat with you?

#36: Feel free to remain polite to guys who overtly hit on you — even if they’re known foot fetishists! As long as you’re in a safe situation, the worst that can happen is you … just have to wait a few minutes before slapping them, I guess.

#35: Flirting with guys can get you free stuff! There’s just no possible way you didn’t already know this.

#34: DO NOT EVER ASSUME SOMEONE IS PREGNANT. Sometimes the bun in the oven is just a muffin top.

#33: If you are the first person to publicly speak out against atrocious behavior on the T, all of a sudden you become an even bigger jerk than the dude who was jerky in the first place.

#32: Don’t have a date tonight? Whatever! Just ask some guy on the street out. Even if it doesn’t go perfectly, it’ll probably be, like, pretty okay.

#31: Please keep your fluids inside your own body. Or at least off my foot.

#30: Guys, it’s not just a tool against drugs and rape — you can say “No!” to anything! ANYTHING!

#29: White-knuckling the hand rails on the subway may look ridiculous, but not as ridiculous as falling out of your seat and head-butting a fellow passenger in the groin.

#28: Before you ask someone on the subway to turn down their obscenely loud music, consider the possibility of being trapped underground next to their pissy, metal-loving selves.

**That fact that somebody is wearing leather, copious scalp tattoos, and a piercing the width of a pencil through the bridge of their nose totally doesn’t mean that they’re not intelligent and articulate. But they still might not let you ride their dragon scooter.

#27: If you have decided to introduce yourself to a guy by smacking his ass, DO NOT ASK FOR PERMISSION. He will say no. He will say no loudly. Then he will gossip about you in German.

#26: True to all outside evidence, coffee is both as bitter and as dark as a David Lynch movie. But unlike a David Lynch movie, it will not actually make you vomit. So … drink up, I guess?

#25: Don’t stand — don’t stand — don’t stand so close to me. Or to anyone else, for that matter.

#24: Before entering an adulterous affair, make sure your paramour isn’t illiterate. Then, um, go ahead and not have an affair. Seriously. Don’t do it.

#23: If you mix every on-draft beer together in one mug, I’ve decided the resultant beverage is called a BEERICIDE. It’s not very good.

#22: Apparently you have to fail an IQ test to work at Kinko’s. Butcomplaining about an employee to corporate won’t buck up their attitude or yours.

#21: Seriously, STOP ACCIDENTALLY TRYING TO KISS GAY GUYS. Especially under ridiculous movie-cliche false premises.

#20: If you don’t like baseball at home, you’re not going to like it at the ballpark. Especially if you can’t find a decent sandwich there!

#19: Turns out when you amble the kid-littered streets of an affluent neighborhood decked out in Hello Kitty garb, soccer moms and joggers alike tend to mistake your cheerfulness for molesty intent.

#18: Not even semi-nude burlesque dancers can bring out my (deeply repressed) inner Picasso.

#17: The kind of people who seriously play drinking games are the kind I’d have to be drunk with to hang out with in the first place; sometimes the cost of a waived cover charge is a dude wearing lederhosen smacking your ass.

#16: Donating blood on September 11 is like volunteering at a soup kitchen on Thanksgiving: the place is jammed, so go assuage your guilt somewhere else, you fair-weather samaritan. (Also, if you have shy veins, you really need to chug the dang water before trying to give.)

#15: All professors — even the ones who aren’t — are cute. Oh, also, I guess they know stuff.

#14: If someone’s doing something fun on the street and you want to give it a try, why not ask? You might end up becoming a semi-pro movie marquee changer.

#13: Eco-friendly home-made cleaning supplies work just as well as store-bought supplies, and for a tiny fraction of the price. Also, clean your friggin’ bathtub or nobody will ever love you.

#12: If you voice your even semi-reasonable demands with enough gusto, the people in power will give you what you want to make you shut up.

#11: The simple act of just physically embracing a total stranger is not going to magically cure all of your problems and woes, surprising though that might seem. Drugs not hugs, kids.

#10: Never ever ever ever ever spraypaint inside.

#9: Turns out all that hooey about preparing for a job interview by giving yourself pep talks, getting there crazy-early, prepping awesome questions, etc., is not just a cruel hoax.

** Always dress for adventure. Fate may reward the brave, that’s true, but it also looks significantly more kindly on girls who do not take walks outside looking like hobos.

#8: There’s no need to insinuate yourself into a group if your bold, dramatic jewelry does it for you, but no matter what: if a group welcomes you, dude, hang with them.

#7: Okay, I don’t know who you are that you think stalking a man off the subway might be a good way to meet your soulmate, but let me tell you: it’s just not.

#6: Dang, guys, people dressing up and pretending to be homeless in order to beg for $$: apparently not just a myth.

#5: If you’re in the position to do a peer or superior a favor, the weirdness of asking will be offset by how cool it was of you to offer.

#4: While girly faux “martinis” are always nauseating, meeting prospective female friends via the internet is benignly pleasant.

#3: It’s totally not worth it to cut people in line. Karma’s a bitch.

#2: Asking total strangers to hang out is a little crazy, but it won’t kill you.

#1: It’s so worth it to splurge on amazing clothes — why save money on anything you’re not absolutely in love with?!

Good gravy, guys. Are you starting at the beginning before reading the archives? If so, let me tell you: I recently reread some of my early posts and I was kind of an awful person. Apparently the first year of the project changed me DRAMATICALLY. So if you’re archive binging and I come off as kind of an ass then, uh, hold out? I start hugging orphans and giving kittens cupcakes and stuff. Much more pleasant.