There’s usually some sort of bustle on the floor in my dorm on Monday nights. My roommate’s focus is Top Chef, while my friend Allison used to be utterly devoted to Prison Break (she dropped it in favor of Pushing Daisies, which should be back soon!). Heroes used to be playing in at least three rooms on our meager 9-room floor. But my girlfriend and I, from 9 until about 11 (sometimes 11:05 or even 11:10), are otherwise occupied. All year ‘round. What on earth could we be watching that doesn’t end the season at some point?

Wrestling. Monday Night Raw, specifically.

I used to watch wrestling and play the games with my cousin. I didn’t really get into it a whole lot; I though everyone looked kind of weird, aside from that Shawn Michaels dude. Okay, he was kind of weird too, but not like Hulk Hogan weird. I liked The Rock, too; he made me laugh. But I didn’t watch anything regularly. I only watched it with my cousin when I was over at his house and it was on, or he wanted to show me a VHS (throwback!) or something similar. My mom HATED wrestling and wouldn’t let me watch it at home, even if I wanted to.

I dropped out of the WWE (then WWF, but changed because the real WWF threw a hissy fit. I still think it’s be great to throw the Rock and a panda in a steel cage match together) for a pretty long time once I stopped hanging with my cousin. It wasn’t until I came to college that the girl who was then just my good friend somehow managed to get me to watch Raw. Read More »

American Apparel makes me f*cking nauseous.

Actually, let me restate that. American Apparel’s ads make me f*cking nauseous.

Their clothes are fine—if you enjoy looking like every other “non conformist” out there—but their ads are so annoying I feel the need to scream at everyone involved in making them.

It’s no news that AA enjoys exploiting the tired, probably drugged, dead-eyed look of the ubiqutious New York Hipster, but I just can’t understand how skinny, messy haired models photographed in bad lighting is supposed to make me want to buy clothes.

I guess if I was as desperate as them to be cool, saw a bunch of sluggish girls wearing one-piece bodysuits, and thought to myself, “Wearing an American Apparel bodysuit will make me so cool I’ll be bored!” I’d be likely to buy a brightly hued shirt or two.

But other than having no sense of self, I can’t understand why jaded models who look like they’re 12 would influence me to purchase anything—let alone a pair of silver lamé work-out shorts. Read More »

I know for some people it ranks right up there with eating bugs, but I’m a sushi lover and proud of it. From tame tuna to eel and octopus, I’m a fan of it all. Eating sushi at least once a week for years, I’ve picked up some tips in order to not look like a fish out of water when ordering sushi.

So, next time you’re out at a sushi bar or Japanese restaurant, put down the fork you’re using to stab at your sushi with reckless abandon, and impress your friends with the following rules of sushi etiquette. You’ll look like a pro, even if you’re a sushi virgin.

When in doubt, ask the chef.
If you’re new to sushi or just looking for some new flavors, park your rear at the sushi bar instead of getting a table. Most chefs would be happy to introduce you to their favorites.

Don’t ask “what’s fresh today?”
Assume everything you see in front of you is fresh—or else they wouldn’t be serving it. If you were having dinner at a friend’s, would you ask them if the meal they prepared is fresh? Same concept. If you’re not sure what to order, ask the chef (or waitress, if you’re at a table) to bring their favorites. If you have control issues, you can also offer your preferences as to level of spiciness or certain types of fish you like and dislike. Read More »