On our way back to the hotel we passed a mushroom shop, and I really wanted to check it out. The shop was amazing inside, designed to look like the inside of a giant melting tree. They had just about every kind of mind-altering drug you’d ever want, and the mushrooms were all laid out in a case with little cards detailing what kind of trip you could expect from each. Some were high on visual effects and energy, others gave more of a “brain high”, and others were a mix of other things. After talking with the sales guy, who seemed very knowledgable, he recommended “philosophers stones” (psilocybin truffles) since we had never taken shrooms before and they usually gave a smoother experience. So I bought two packages of those, at 13 grams each. He fetched them out of a refrigerated case — apparently it’s only legal to sell fresh shrooms in Amsterdam, nothing dried — and we headed out.
We stopped by New York Pizza for dinner (piping hot and ridiculously huge slices), and then went back to the hotel and took a nap before launching into hyperspace!
Quick note: this isn’t the same grandma from my earlier post. This grandma is from my Dad’s side. Grandmas everywhere!
When we were kids, my brother and I had a weekly routine. Rather, it was our parents’ routine: they’d drop us off at our grandparents’ house every Saturday evening, where we’d have some Grandma & Grandpa time, stay the night, and go to church with them on Sunday morning. More accurately, they would go to church and we would go to Sunday School. Afterwards, my brother and I would walk home and enjoy the rest of our weekend. It worked out well — our parents would get Saturday nights off from the kids, and our grandparents would get some time with us. (Our parents were what we’d call “spiritual but not religious” today, and definitely not the go-to-church types.)
This was the weekly routine for years, until one morning when I was 10 or 11. I woke up and just didn’t feel like going to Sunday School. The thought of getting dressed up and sitting in the church basement doing Bible-centered “activities” was suddenly the last thing in the world I wanted to do. So I informed my grandma that I was just going to hang out and wait for them to get back from church. And boy, she was not pleased with this development.
RuPaul’s new song “Smile” is a rake dragged across the chalkboard of my soul. It’s pure, cold-pressed, thrice-distilled, artisinally-autotuned peepeecaca. And that’s what I get from just the first minute. I didn’t get further than that before furiously closing the tab, bleeding from both ears. Somehow this song manages to encapsulate everything I loathe about a lot of today’s popular music, which is pretty impressive, so…congrats? Even the video (linked in the article) is kinda lame, looking like someone shot it live on Zoom. What happened, Roople? Also, get off my lawn!
Anyway, NPR recently featured this song on “Now Listening” and read it to absolute filth. They listened to it so you don’t have to! I do love a good public service.
The most egregious rip-off comes in the form of the third track, “Smile,” a song that could be mistaken for a karaoke version of Charli XCX’s “anthems” if I heard it from outside of the club. To say the song is exactly the same would be an insult to Charli: It’s like if Mamaru’s producers heard how i’m feeling now and tried to recreate it from memory after a blackout-inducing hit of poppers. Everything feels lifted, from the overprocessed Auto-Tune to the jittery synth riff in the chorus.
Note: I sometimes call him Roople just for fun. We’re big Drag Race fans, despite the very real possibility of burnout from all the international variants…
For at least a decade, whenever I see an article/blog post/whatever ending with “Wait, what?” I feel two things: 1) Contempt for the writer’s lazy, clickbait approach to headlines, and 2) sudden, irrational rage.
I can’t really explain why, but there’s just something about seeing that stupid phrase tacked to the end of a headline that makes me roll my eyes hard enough to see the back of my skull. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen it done LITERALLY THOUSANDS OF TIMES, and it stopped being amusing after the first two or three.
But after so many years of personal anguish, I finally know that someone else out there feels my pain! Behold: the 2022 list of misused, bullshitty words and phrases that everyone (including you) should stop using: