Last night Bruce Springsteen came to town and we were there. I am a pretty serious fan. I won’t bore you with critical analysis of the show except to say it was amazing, as they all are, because he is a brilliant, brilliant artist. I WILL tell you how much embarrassment I have for myself the day after. You guys. Live music is a problem for me. It makes me lose my mind. I just have to dance and scream the lyrics as loudly as possible. Our section was kind of tame so I’m pretty sure everybody hated me. And the dancing is, like, NOT a normal kind of dancing. As a baseline I just jump up and down. When something particularly moves me you can find me like this:
Except they’re probably under the influence of many powerful hallucinogenics whereas I’ve probably had like 1.4 Yuenglings.
Instagram. You guys. I got a smart phone recently. You can read here about how I smugly put off finally getting one. I am now officially addicted to Instagram. If that makes me lame then WHATEVER. I never really got the Instagram thing before. Like, OK, you can post pictures? GROUNDBREAKING. 2003 called it wants Webshots back. But something about those stupid filters really does make it so much fun.
I also adopted a new philosophy about the social component of it. Instead of letting it go through and just auto-populate every depraved soul from my Facebook, I went through and hand selected a tiny group of people who I genuinely enjoy and am not bothered by. The result is an entirely different kind of social media experience, in that I… ENJOY AND AM NOT BOTHERED BY IT! I just scroll through and hit that heart button over and over because I really do like it all. Not like stupid Facebook where you have to wade through idiotic Buzzfeed articles to stalk for newborn pictures.
Another thing I want to blab about: waking up with alarm clocks. Does anybody else have a serious problem getting up from sleep? It’s a lifelong problem of mine. It takes me a long time to become aware and alert. Have you ever seen someone with a concussion? You ask them things like, who’s the president? Rihanna. What’s your birthday? Eleven. What year is it? Sweet potato. This is me every morning. It’s actually kind of a horrible way to start the morning.
A few years ago I invested in this special sunrise alarm clock which was allegedly very effective in helping this exact problem. Yea, click on it, it’s $118. Apparently this is what you do when you have two white collar jobs and zero children to feed. BUY $118 ALARM CLOCKS. The thing doesn’t wake me up.
So, that leaves the phone. With my old phone, the alarm would go off and two choices would pop up on the screen: snooze and dismiss. This confused me every time because in my sleepy haze, those options are the same. Snooze? YES! Dismiss? AND HOW! Frequent over-sleeping resulted.
Now the smart phone is WORSE. Instead of words, it has two little icons. One is a “zzz” which kind of makes sense, but the other looks like this:
Which means my inner monologue looks like this:
Brain: What is that?
Brain: I don’t know, like, a hazelnut with a cue ball in the middle? And it’s shining?
Brain: Is it the thing that’s on Argentina’s flag?
Brain: PHONE A FRIEND
So, eventually my brain works out that it’s an eyeball. Or a sun eyeball, whatever. When I’m still 98% asleep and thus have a negligible IQ, just knowing that it’s an eyeball is no help. YES, I WANT TO CLOSE MY EYEBALL, GREAT SUGGESTION, *TAP*! Over sleep.
Yanni! We were promised Yanni! I know for real I am blogging about Yanni next I swear to you.