I am obsessed with apple cider. Like, completely obsessed. I know that this goes against the theme of this blog a tad because it is, well, apple cider season right now, but it’s the pumpkin spice that’s really got everyone talking (yet again. Like, it’s good, but not nearly as good as apple cider,) so I feel like I might be in the clear.

While I was doing my usual “listening to 90′s songs to forget about the decline in the quality and caliber of current popular drabble” I noticed a trend - a crapton of 90′s artists sang about flying; not just on airplanes, but as a bird, or as a human with the power to fly. It was clearly the superpower of choice in the 90′s, but why?

It’s 2014 now and I’d just like to start the year off by giving praise to one of the most under-appreciated snacks in everybody’s closet: the sandwich cracker.

“I used to love reading these essays! Why’d you stop writing them?” opined nobody.

If you’ve been wondering (you haven’t) where I’ve been for the past 3 months, the short answer would be “busy,” but the long answer (and the one that you’re about to receive) is a bit more complicated than that.

…is that it never leaves you.

I would be fully satisfied to just end this post there, but you didn’t ask for this so I’m just going to keep rambling. Some of you who have only gotten to know me in the past year or so may not know this about me, but summer camp was a huge part of my life. From 2000 to 2009, at least one week every summer was dedicated to camp; as a camper until 2005 and then as a junior counselor/counselor from 2006 to 2009, spending closer to the entire summer away at camp.

“Tomorrow we can drive around this town, and let the cops chase us around…”

I don’t know about you, but there was a time in my barely-pubescent life where those words rang truer than anything that I could have scribbled into my diary myself. It still remains one of those songs that everyone will gleefully sing along to, arms ‘round each other’s shoulders, happily reminiscing about the good old days. Driving aimlessly, wasting time, being rebellious; the epitome of youth. Not to mention that the song is hella catchy too. However, it dawned on me the other night: “Hey Jealousy” is actually a very, very, unhappy song.

What do you mean it’s not ringing any bells? RocketMan? 1997? Harland Williams of the not-so-critically-acclaimed cinematic classic Sorority Boys? Still no?

Birthday sex. It’s something that everyone who’s in a relationship is expected to both give and receive once a year, but it’s also something that’s not typically sung about. While I was having my at-least-bi-weekly 90’s R&B jam sesh on the train into the city this morning, I realized something that I never noticed before: “I’ll Make Love To You” is more-or-less an early version of “Birthday Cake”, only without the underlying tones of S&M and domestic abuse.

UPDATE from pt 1: I STILL haven’t been able to find BB Cream in my shade! I have literally been checking CVS every day. Yesterday, I even went to Duane Reade, Walgreens, and CVS, and none of them had my freaking shade! This is getting infuriating!

Every time I hear his name attached to a project, I always jump up and shout “Zak Orth!” confusing everyone around me and always prompting their reaction of: “Who’s that?” Really??

I’m going to be upfront with you: this is most likely going to become a recurring segment on this column, as it happens all too often. Deal with it. You didn’t ask for this.

I tend to always forget to buy something when I’m shopping, and usually it’s the one thing that I initially went to the store to get in the first place. (Is using both “initially” and “in the first place” in the same sentence redundant? Fuck it. I do what I want.) This particular time, it wasn’t the thing that I forgot to buy, but the coupon to buy it with, without which I had no desire to purchase said item at all.

It is with a heavy heart that I regretfully admit my deteste - nay, loathing - for one of this great country’s most revered institutions: Pop Music. Nothing grinds my gears more than reluctantly slipping into my car first thing in the morning to head to work while I’m still half asleep and easily agitated and turning on the radio to hear nothing but sugar-coated whiny drabble sung by different versions of the same audio drone.

It’s a question that’s plagued the masses (the masses being me, primarily) for decades (since yesterday afternoon, specifically, when I first came up with this stupid idea.)

At first it hardly seems like a fair argument to pit an aged 80’s rocker against a warm family dinner staple, but upon closer examination, you’ll find that they’re actually a lot more similar than you may think.

I have actual work that I should be doing while I’m sitting at my desk for my actual job, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than the ridiculous hoops I’ve had to jump through with banks recently. What’s that? You want the full story? Well only because you didn’t ask…

-Asked nobody.

It’s only fitting that my first blog post be about something that absolutely nobody but myself cares about thusfar, so I figured I’d finally put an answer to the question that nobody’s been asking.