So many headaches
Three things.
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Let’s get this out of the way: there are some things I like. Many things, even. I like Oreos, applesauce and baseball. I like warm socks and The Strokes. I like “The Social Network” probably more than anyone this side of Justin Timberlake’s nebula-sized ego (oh, but those golden locks!). I like poetry and dark beer, plaid shirts and Pokemon, Charlie Kelly and Regina Spektor. That said, I dislike many, many more things than I like, and this here blog is devoted to those.
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Here’s a thing: A few months ago I noticed the letters “smh” following some vapid celebrity’s vapid Tweet (I think it was Pauly D. or someone equally worthless). SMH. Naturally, the pistons in my tiny little Stegosaurus brain began firing -– what could it mean? I began rattling off some gross, unspeakable, certainly unprintable sexual possibilities. Then I started down the far smaller list of non-sexual possibilities, coming up with ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Stupid. I concluded that the true meaning must be some majestic secret, and I accepted I’m just not “in the know.” Some time later, I was told that it stands for “shaking my head.” What a joke. That’s not a secret. Fuck acronyms.
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My roommate tried to make an argument that Antarctica (and, seriously, how do two college students get on the topic of Antarctica without alcohol or some sort of hyper-meth?) is always, always, 100 percent always, below the U.S., not realizing that the universe has no up or down or anything concrete and we’re just floating around on a big stupid rock in the middle of absolutely nothing and our lives are finite and ultimately meaningless. I have a dumb roommate.
