So as tomorrow is September 1st, many people with a complete lack of understanding about solstices and seasonal cycles, consider the summer over for all intensive purposes. Well, I guess the labor day weekend is many people’s official end to summer, but you catch my meandering drift. And while this is cause for alarm for some people, tearing of clothes and gnashing of teeth for others, I kind of look at it with a casually arrogant indifference. Summer’s that drunk girl you were making out with at the bar who was just a little to sloppy, and as she is dancing/stumbling/walking out the door and begging you to follow her, you realize you will be just fine without, plus she bit your lip and you can taste a little blood. Good riddance.
I don’t know what it is about summer that leaves me so nonplussed about its departure. Well, actually, there are 3 things now that I think about it.
1) I love fall. College football, track jacket weather, Halloween, homecoming dances, wait, I mean HC dances suck. Either way, the end of summer signals the beginning of fall, my favorite season, so its all good. Once you got to college and realized summer break was secondary in debaucherous fun to the actual school year, fall suddenly became so beautiful siren that meant it was time to start stumbling around Uptown and passing out in bushes, without fear of parental disapproval or knowledge. Now, post college, its still beautiful emotional crescendo. People running, arms flailing, headlong into the best month of the year, tanned and full of irrational exuberance. Thats how I like to imagine fall.
2) Summer weather gets to be a bit of a bitch when you have to do adult stuff like go to work, run errands, and, you know, be generally presentable and not look like the obnoxious missed behaved kid at the birthday party, all sweaty and disheveled cause they'd been running around constantly. However, once the temperature rises above 80 and you toss in a splash of humidity, I become horrifically unable to seemingly regulate my own body temperature and sweat through all my clothing with the greatest of ease. So its particularly fantastic when I arrive in the office already looking like a hot mess and then get to sit and try not to roast in my own juices. Thus, the arrival of cooler weather is more than welcome. I anxiously look forward to being able to sit in a bar and talk to a girl without looking like an obese judge from a Civil War themed film, dabbing my sweating brow with a handkerchief, trying not to say "I do declare the weather in South Carolina these days is mighty stifling." Its just not a good look for me. Save my few trips to the beach and trying to run through the neighborhood kid's sprinkler, I have more use for a cooler temperature anyways.
3) The final beef I have with summer...the expectations. I think this is where the let down of summer lies. Everyone enters summer with their grandiose plans. They want to go to 4 museums, the beach 3 times a week, go on 6 different roadtrips to 3 different continents, have no less than 5 summer flings, and get the perfect tan, all while drinking to excess. Thus as late August rolls around, they wildly panic because their list is only 25% complete and thus either a)feel the need to scramble to accomplish tons of things in a short time, or b) most likely sulk as they feel the summer wasn't a complete success. Now this isn't everyone, but I've heard similar sentiments from enough of my friends that I feel it is a fairly common diagnosis. Summer is much like prom, if you just go into it looking to have fun, it probably will be. But if you expect it to play out like a John Hughes film, you may be disappointed. Fall on the other hand is an open book. Playing with house money, going out on Saturday night after an awesome Friday.
I really don't have anything against summer, I love summer. Not Summer from 500 Days of Summer though. That movie was awesome but what a completely heartless ice queen bitch she was. Ive had relationships end that didn't make me as angry as her whole character. Wait what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Fall. Its awesome and its coming, hurrah!
So I'm still reserving judgment on Drake. Part of me says he is incredibly overrated, his flow is slow, and there are a bunch of other rappers far more deserving of the accolades and hype he gets. However, I do think he is a clever lyricist, and above all, the dude can ride a beat. The new hotness, Ready for You, is no exception. I fancy myself a bit of a beat connoisseur. Not only in the fact that I judge a rap song by its beat more than its lyrical content, but to the obsessive extent where I excitedly explain to people my favorite 5-7 second snippets where the 808 kicked in, or where they faded the synth line just a little. So this new jam really has it all, cause the beat builds so perfectly and Drake does what he does and lets himself stay within the beat and compliment it. For that I give him props and look forward to spinning this all, thats right, fall bitchez. Enjoy. Oh yeah, who the hell is DJ Alex? Frankie J seems to love him, but he really needs to stop creeping on my new Youtube jams.
"I could produce for your future, I could co-direct your past..."
JW
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Who's that skank talking to my brother?
"I was serving it up to her, still all friendly like. You know? I hadn't brought it predator, wolf style yet. She like, spoke Italian and Spanish. Totally, like, a girl on my level bro..."
I can't properly articulate how much I wish I blithely quoting Jersey Shore, not retelling one of the most pathetic gym conversations Ive had the pleasuring of overhearing. How can people honestly talk like this? I mean, if this is how you recant the tale of a scintillating 1 AM courtship, I can't fathom what sort of prose spills out of your mouth when you are wooing this exotic dame.
I never realized that it was possible to nearly choke on your own spit, but I came damn close. Its even harder to pretend you weren't reacting to the sleeveless orangutan who was rubbing the super original Gothic cross on his meaty bicep as he looks over midstory. I finished, you know, busting out my 250th bench press rep and briskly walked away to ponder what the hell I just heard. It also made me think, as pretty much everything ridiculous and trivial does.
Last week, I was at my cousin's wedding and talked to one of my other cousin's husbands. And naturally, being in his early 30s and married, he was eager to chat and hear stories about my dating trials and tribulations. Over my 5th gin and tonic, I was telling him how I realized I had grown up just a smidge, cause I could no longer hit on dumb girls. (Now I am not some intellectual snob, umm usually, but if at this point in my life, not matter how gorgeous you may be, if you're wearing a Hollister tank top, my attempts at wit and humor are probably not gonna work and its going to be frustrating for me. Id ask you to read this blog, and you would stop a few lines in cause you don't understand the word articulate and I don't have an Taio Cruz playing in the background.) After he stopped laughing at me and introducing me to the bridesmaids as The Most Interesting Man in the World, he leveled. He said the thing he doesn't miss at all about dating is the moment where you realize you just aren't into the other person. It was a pretty dead on point. I mean, you all know what I'm talking about. You lock eyes with a seductive stranger across the bar, you amble over, excitedly start chatting about what beautiful weather we've been having, and suddenly, you realize that you've have more symbiotic and meaningful conversations with your little cousin Spencer, and he still thinks that its possible to be a Lion when he grows up. I mean, this is a new thing for me. My 20 year old, hell, my 22 year old self was still pretty much believing that if a girl was pretty, she had to have a myriad of qualities that would keep me entertained and interested infinitely. I'm pretty sure I was in love with Natalie Portman's character from Garden State for a solid 3-4 months cause she was pretty and I liked how she phrased certain characters...who cares that she wasn't actually real. This whole point was driven home as I talked to one of the bridesmaids later that night. We began to bond over our mutual love of silly bands when she informed me that all she knew about relationships, she learned from romantic comedies. Like literally, in all sincerity, she took life lessons from Hope Floats or some nonsense. 20 year old Justin would laugh, pretend that he found that endearing, and plan what hallway I would awkwardly try to make out with her in. Newly 25 year old Justin drained the rest of his drink and tried not to throw himself off the balcony out back. And still, I feel like I am light years away from the maturity that would make me ready to participate in wedding festivities I witnessed early that night. Maybe thats why I was seated at a dinner table with a motley crew which included my 12 year old cousin...FML
The other thing I discovered is that no matter how much I've "grown and matured", I still regress in rather rapid fashion when I'm around my sisters and my family for an extended period of time. Less than 24 hours after having aforementioned mature discussions with my cousin's husband, I'm attempting to give one of my little sisters a wet willy as she sleeps in the car or splashing another with water as we are waiting in line for a Smithsonian museum. Maybe by "too much family time" they are really alluding to the fact that you transform back into your prepubescent self. I couldn't tell you the last time I was around one of my friends and I felt the need to kick one of them in the back of the knee and chuckle as their leg buckles, but with my family, my sisters and I felt that it was the best game ever and participated in it frequently. Mind you, my sisters are 14, 16, and 21, its not like any of us are little kids...except at heart, *sigh*.
I'm clearly a sucker for pop punk music with sappy lyrics about girls and undertones of how much they suck. But I've gotten close to critical mass. I have so many great pop punk bands from the last 5-7 years, that I don't find myself discovering any new ones, or really wanting to. I just cycle through, unless something catches my ear. Well, I came across a band from the ever prolific New Jersey scene which stirred me. Seriously, for all the ripping on NJ, that state produces amazing music, whether it be the Boss, or countless amazing bands like Saves the Day and Midtown. Well "I Call Fives" has slide into that realm for me. Tons of energy, awesome melodies, and some stripped down acoustic gems. They remind me alot of Hit the Lights, who crept up on me with their hook-filled badassery and then promptly changed lead singers, meh. More than I Can Handle is amazing and This Town is fantastic as well. Their full band stuff is frenetic and catchy, but the acoustic stuff sets them apart.
"I will make this out, to be more than I can handle, baby I never had a doubt..."
JW
I can't properly articulate how much I wish I blithely quoting Jersey Shore, not retelling one of the most pathetic gym conversations Ive had the pleasuring of overhearing. How can people honestly talk like this? I mean, if this is how you recant the tale of a scintillating 1 AM courtship, I can't fathom what sort of prose spills out of your mouth when you are wooing this exotic dame.
I never realized that it was possible to nearly choke on your own spit, but I came damn close. Its even harder to pretend you weren't reacting to the sleeveless orangutan who was rubbing the super original Gothic cross on his meaty bicep as he looks over midstory. I finished, you know, busting out my 250th bench press rep and briskly walked away to ponder what the hell I just heard. It also made me think, as pretty much everything ridiculous and trivial does.
Last week, I was at my cousin's wedding and talked to one of my other cousin's husbands. And naturally, being in his early 30s and married, he was eager to chat and hear stories about my dating trials and tribulations. Over my 5th gin and tonic, I was telling him how I realized I had grown up just a smidge, cause I could no longer hit on dumb girls. (Now I am not some intellectual snob, umm usually, but if at this point in my life, not matter how gorgeous you may be, if you're wearing a Hollister tank top, my attempts at wit and humor are probably not gonna work and its going to be frustrating for me. Id ask you to read this blog, and you would stop a few lines in cause you don't understand the word articulate and I don't have an Taio Cruz playing in the background.) After he stopped laughing at me and introducing me to the bridesmaids as The Most Interesting Man in the World, he leveled. He said the thing he doesn't miss at all about dating is the moment where you realize you just aren't into the other person. It was a pretty dead on point. I mean, you all know what I'm talking about. You lock eyes with a seductive stranger across the bar, you amble over, excitedly start chatting about what beautiful weather we've been having, and suddenly, you realize that you've have more symbiotic and meaningful conversations with your little cousin Spencer, and he still thinks that its possible to be a Lion when he grows up. I mean, this is a new thing for me. My 20 year old, hell, my 22 year old self was still pretty much believing that if a girl was pretty, she had to have a myriad of qualities that would keep me entertained and interested infinitely. I'm pretty sure I was in love with Natalie Portman's character from Garden State for a solid 3-4 months cause she was pretty and I liked how she phrased certain characters...who cares that she wasn't actually real. This whole point was driven home as I talked to one of the bridesmaids later that night. We began to bond over our mutual love of silly bands when she informed me that all she knew about relationships, she learned from romantic comedies. Like literally, in all sincerity, she took life lessons from Hope Floats or some nonsense. 20 year old Justin would laugh, pretend that he found that endearing, and plan what hallway I would awkwardly try to make out with her in. Newly 25 year old Justin drained the rest of his drink and tried not to throw himself off the balcony out back. And still, I feel like I am light years away from the maturity that would make me ready to participate in wedding festivities I witnessed early that night. Maybe thats why I was seated at a dinner table with a motley crew which included my 12 year old cousin...FML
The other thing I discovered is that no matter how much I've "grown and matured", I still regress in rather rapid fashion when I'm around my sisters and my family for an extended period of time. Less than 24 hours after having aforementioned mature discussions with my cousin's husband, I'm attempting to give one of my little sisters a wet willy as she sleeps in the car or splashing another with water as we are waiting in line for a Smithsonian museum. Maybe by "too much family time" they are really alluding to the fact that you transform back into your prepubescent self. I couldn't tell you the last time I was around one of my friends and I felt the need to kick one of them in the back of the knee and chuckle as their leg buckles, but with my family, my sisters and I felt that it was the best game ever and participated in it frequently. Mind you, my sisters are 14, 16, and 21, its not like any of us are little kids...except at heart, *sigh*.
I'm clearly a sucker for pop punk music with sappy lyrics about girls and undertones of how much they suck. But I've gotten close to critical mass. I have so many great pop punk bands from the last 5-7 years, that I don't find myself discovering any new ones, or really wanting to. I just cycle through, unless something catches my ear. Well, I came across a band from the ever prolific New Jersey scene which stirred me. Seriously, for all the ripping on NJ, that state produces amazing music, whether it be the Boss, or countless amazing bands like Saves the Day and Midtown. Well "I Call Fives" has slide into that realm for me. Tons of energy, awesome melodies, and some stripped down acoustic gems. They remind me alot of Hit the Lights, who crept up on me with their hook-filled badassery and then promptly changed lead singers, meh. More than I Can Handle is amazing and This Town is fantastic as well. Their full band stuff is frenetic and catchy, but the acoustic stuff sets them apart.
"I will make this out, to be more than I can handle, baby I never had a doubt..."
JW
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