Tuesday, April 4, 2017

practical uses for drake's new record.

i don't think i'm supposed to publicly admit that i like drake. right? i mean, i'm not sure who's buying the millions of records he's selling because no one i know will admit to their willingness to spend actual money on his music but i love him, like, unabashedly love him. he hits all of my major marks for non-garbagehuman consideration:
-sensitive
-funny
-handsome
-doesn't take himself too seriously
-sculpted facial hair
-maker of mid-tempo jams
-dances kind of weird
i know it's not cool to like him or whatever but you're just gonna have to work with me here. i hope he never stops making adult contemporary raps that are the perfect accompaniment for the kind of activities people of a certain age (37 and 1 month, for example) are into: performing at home "anti-aging" spa treatments; reassuring the directv online specialist who insisted that you communicate over text that, in fact, you have already tried going outside to clear nature's debris from your satellite dish; replaying your many shortcomings and failures while waiting for the occupants of the yukon idling in front of you with the don't tread on me sticker on the back windshield to finish ordering their many complicated drinks at the starbucks drive-thru. and also:

1 filling up your daily pill box.
recommended soundtrack: "passionfruit"
i'm not kidding i wasn't even paying attention to the first two tracks and then this came on and i was like HOLD ON BITCH WE'RE GOING HOME. goddamn, this is a smooth jam. i remember being a kid and rolling my eyes when my mom put betty wright on the record player and swaying in the middle of the living room, eyes closed, cigarette burning between her lips. i only wanted to listen to music that was fast and aggressive, shit that mirrored my internal pre-teen torment. but now that i'm dead i like songs that sound like a nap. okay fine i'll take some bass every now and then but i like jams that feel like putting a sweater on your ears. this is good early morning music, that fuzzy yellow time of day when you've just woken up but haven't yet remembered all the reasons you wish you hadn't. the kind of soothing record that makes the metamucil go down easy.

2 organizing snacks for game night. 
recommended soundtrack: "portland"
cards, checkers, travis scott, tic-tac-toe, 20 questions, a looped recorder, trivia, charades, jenga, quavo. now that i live in a space big enough to hold two couches i enjoy having people over all the time. which is to say that i am uncomfortable outside of my crib and i'd rather slice the tip of my finger off making an instagram-ready charcuterie plate that might fool a normal person into thinking i care enough about them to buy imported salami than dig a pair of shoes that don't slip on out of the back of my closet and go somewhere loud. so instead i tell people to swing by the cottage and before they get here all the chipmunks and birds and dwarves and i throw portland on the hi-fi while we tidy up and make snacks. as soon as i heard that recorder on the track i lost my fucking mind. and i know, his fake patois bothers people, but i like to pretend that maybe he's me after i first heard "flex" and "murder she wrote" and spent all of eighth grade walking around my quaint little suburb pretending i was patra. also how could you hate a song where a dude says "toot" at the beginning what are you a monster.


3 zumba gold.
recommended track: "get it together"
i've dated more DJs than any sane person ever should and i know a goddamn deep house track when i hear one. i had to check my computer to make sure i hadn't accidentally slid a ron trent record into the rotation when this came on. i turned it up and was transported to the darkest, stickiest corner of smart bar on a hot night in 2005, the only person sitting on a folding chair in the middle of a disco, waiting for my boyfriend dj jazzhouse or whatever his professional name was to finish his set so i could drive him and his battered crate of everything but the girl remixes home. i have a shoebox full of mixtapes with titles like "beats 4 my sweets" scribbled on them featuring a bunch of miguel migs tracks and every conceivable remix of "golden." I KNOW A GOSPEL TRACK WITH A HOUSE BEAT WHEN I HEAR ONE.

4 "lovemaking."
recommended soundtrack: "nothings into somethings"
i love a slow cut. i especially love these tracks that sound all hazy and dreamy and listen, if this dude is gonna sing all the time that's fine by me. he has a good voice and, frankly, sung lyrics are just easier to understand than rapped ones. ugh except the lyrics to this one chap my ass because as much as i love relaxing and popping a top i just can't abide by the whole "girl why didn't you wait for me?" narrative, no matter how much i enjoy drake's upper register. because what was she waiting for, young man, for you to fuck people until your dick got tired and you came crawling back to her while she was busy going to college and thriving in other meaningful ways? i'm projecting here, but motherfuckers always wanna hit you with the WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GOT A WIFE NOW when your last conversation three years ago was about how they wouldn't leave theirs. but anyway um just fuck your new boyfriend to this. *paints fingernails*

5 going to a restaurant in the mid-afternoon when it is not busy and sitting there for three hours.
recommended soundtrack: "sacrifices"
laugh if you want but two in the afternoon is the best time to go to a restaurant. first of all, it's nice to get a buzz on while the sun is still out. being drunk at night makes me feel like i'm about to die. but having a drink with the sun streaming through the brewery windows is exhilarating. no kids to fight with over the one intact connect four on the game shelf, no having to watch boozed-up singles sloppily paw at one another, no just leaving your credit card behind because the bar is too fucking crowded to close your tab and you have to pee and your uber is waiting out front. if you feel awkward doing this by yourself, i like to take a book that i can stare at until the words pleasantly start swimming before my eyes. but i also wear headphones so no one gets the wrong idea and thinks i want to make conversation. my preference for real life is always super-emotional jump off a building music (aimee mann, ry x, sharon van etten, beirut) or surf rock slash dream pop but i also love a downtempo stoner jam and this fits neatly between all the kid cudi and mac miller downloaded on my phone. i know it's cool to shiver in the doorway of the hot new restaurant that can't seat you for two hours, but it's also pretty awesome to watch the receptionist from your dentist's office down an entire beer flight by herself after the lunch rush on a wednesday. i'll save you a seat if you promise not to talk to me.

6 posting CAPS CAPS CAPS nonsensical comments on news articles you don't understand on the internet.
recommended soundtrack: "fake love"
i mean, fake news fake love what's the fucking difference.

7 cooking healthy recipes that use cauliflower instead of rice as if that could ever be an acceptable substitute.
recommended soundtrack: "madiba riddim"
i don't know exactly what it is about turning into a corpse that makes me consider shit like "pretending cauliflower is rice" but lol here we are. my favorite vaguely-mexican version:
1 large head shredded cauliflower
1/2 white onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tbsp olive oil
4 tbsp tomato paste
1 jalapeño or serrano chile, diced
1 tsp salt

1 pulse cauliflower, onion, and garlic in a food processor using the s-blade until finely ground into pieces slightly larger than cooked rice. openly weep at the mere suggestion of a rice-shaped food, and to mourn the loss of your youth.
2 heat a large sauté pan or skillet over medium heat and stir in the tomato paste, chiles, and salt, then cook for a minute or so.
3 increase the heat to high then add the cauliflower, onion, and garlic. stop to wonder if whatever you were hoping to accomplish by eating this way is actually worth it.
4 cook for 6-8 minutes, stirring often, until the moisture is evaporated and the cauliflower is light and fluffy.


8 painting flower still lifes with the girls at one of those wine and painting mom classes.
recommended soundtrack: "blem"
"no one wants that painting of a generic night skyline, judy. but margaret thinks it'll be a fun way for you to get out of the house since you've kind of been in a funk since you and tim got divorced. she and kathy have been meaning to talk to you about how worried they are that you haven't come to silver sneakers cardiofit in weeks, so they thought getting a few of the book club regulars together for happy hour to sloppily write their names on ceramic bowls sounded like fun! you don't have to get dressed up, just put on that shift dress that you got at ann taylor. you know, the blue one you wore to the junior league luncheon last week. we're just going to drink a couple bottles of rosé and gossip about how phyllis can't keep her rose bushes looking nice even though roberta walked in on her feeling up the gardener. let's plan ladies' trip to jamaica this summer. we haven't traveled as a group since pat broke her ankle dancing on the bar in cancun three years ago, and now that tim and his boyfriend moved across town and opened their bed and breakfast maybe it's time for you to get your groove back? just like in that movie! i love the islands, the people are so lively and musical! anyway, we can probably get a good deal on one of those apple vacation packages if we book it soon! anyway, instead of listening to this blem song all day (is that what he's saying?) while crying as you scroll through tim's linkedin you can listen to some actual reggae music in the caribbean on a hot beach with a bottle of rum and maybe try to bang a sexy young porter at the resort. okay hon, i gotta go get through my tennis lesson while trying not to drool too much over bradley's abs. see you tonight, bring percocets!"
good morning, good afternoon, goodnight.

click here and buy this lovely thing i made.