The Resume Tree is Burning

It’s been a while, folks. But I’m back. And with an incredibly confusing title.

I’m writing to you today from the bountiful, lush lands of the Class of 2013 Job Search. It’s a land where career paths stretch out in every direction and warm rays of opportunity wash over the whole land. The ripe fruit of your Resume Tree is just waiting to be feasted upon by hungry employers. There are leaves attached to the fruit of the Resume Tree, and each leaf is a beautifully targeted, assertive Cover Letter that perfectly illustrates your qualifications.

There’s just one problem with this lush land. Most of the employers biting into this luscious fruit are probing for a particular taste–the delicious taste of an unpaid intern. And not just an intern. A ROCK STAR INTERN who is a self-starting person willing to work in an exciting start-up (read: no pay no future) environment!

But don’t let me convince you. Let the employers tell you themselves what exactly they’re looking for:

Screen Shot 2013-04-06 at 10.13.02 PM

It just rolls off the tongue.

Even if they are looking for a ROCK STAR INTERN, at least they didn’t start their post with a douchey motivational quote. Nobody would actually do that, right?

Screen Shot 2013-04-06 at 10.17.45 PM

Wait, what would I actually do at this job?

Oh…oh dear god. Oh dear god.

Dear readers, in honor of this amazing image, I am very excited to bring you the freshly pressed, first-ever blog post structured entirely around the quotes of Mark Twain. Let us begin with a more appropriate Twain-ism for the situation:

“Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.”

Well, shoot. It would appear that the lush land of the Class of 2013 Job Search is currently being covered with highly corrosive acid (NO, THE RESUME TREE!!!). I know we’re just leaving the protective non-reality bubble that is college, but do you really have to tell us you won’t cuddle? Or that we’ll never drive in the slow lane? Do you also have to wrap linguistic wrapping paper around the absolute sham that is unpaid internships?

Also, don’t you understand we have to make at least some money?

Screen Shot 2013-04-06 at 10.19.34 PM

Urgent OR Eventual need.

This posting should have begun with this Twain-ism:

“Don’t go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.”

At least you could hide the fact that your job doesn’t pay a living wage behind a brilliant author’s words. But fear not, job seekers! Mark Twain has fired back in our defense:

“The lack of money is the root of all evil.”

Ah hah! At least while we don’t get paid enough we can known old Twain boy is on our side.


I don’t mean to sound like a bitter complainer here, but I am a little bitter and I am complaining. Complaining about the job search is a good break from the job search! And am I just overreacting to a few ridiculous job posts? Am I generalizing the job search into being a horrible thing that it is not actually not?

“All generalizations are false, including this one.”

Blast. Twained again. But wait, didn’t he also say–

“Humor is mankind’s greatest blessing.”

All is clear in the eyes of Twain…

To my fellow job-seekers–we’ll get there. To everyone else–thanks for reading. And for all of those tedious, annoying moments in life (*CO–WE DON’T CUDDLE–UGH*), just remember that Twain had something to say about that too:

Against the assault of laughter nothing can stand.”

It’s great to be back, folks. Drop a comment if you enjoyed!

Dressing up the Dorm Room

A Man’s Guide to Surviving Valentine’s Day

Gentlemen, Valentine’s day is just around the corner.  And you know what that means—another day of expensive chocolate, even more expensive flowers, and lots of planning—err, I mean, another priceless opportunity to express your affection for your special woman.  I’m sure you’re thinking, “Why can’t Valentine’s Day be EVERY week?!”

Regardless of your views, many Valentine’s Days will end in the dorm room, with a hopefully auspiciously-absent roommate.  If taking your lady back to the room for a romantic night alone is in the plans, here are a few ideas to help the romance along.


Make your room at least reasonably clean.  If you’re normally unspeakably messy, clean to the best of your ability and she’ll be flattered by your effort anyway.  Keep an eye out for these no-no’s:

Dirty Laundry—wading through a sea of socks and boxers to get to your bed has unfortunately never been sexy.  I know, it can be hard sometimes—dirty clothes IN hamper.

Decayed Food—You had Subway two days ago?  It’s great that you’re eating healthy, but your date should find out about your excellent nutritional discipline in some other fashion.

The Dust Bowl—if she jumps playfully onto your bed and a haze of dust comes to join in the fun…yeah, just don’t do it.  Vacuum, with special attention to under your bed and desk.  A very slightly wet paper towel will help get dust off your desk shelves and dresser.

BONUS POINTS: If you’re a complete slob and tidiness is unattainable, immediately locate artistic band-aids.  Artistic band-aids include books of poetry, artsy magazines—anything that implies your (obvious) sophistication.  Apply band-aids wherever needed—on top of that stack of papers, wedged into a textbook (“This is what I really read in class…”), and voila! Your unattractive sloppiness has become “artistic clutter.”

Probably more important than sight is the way your room smells.  If your dorm room odor speaks strongly of forgotten pizzas and sleepless (drunk) nights, no amount of artistic clutter can save ye.

For an extreme odor overhaul, follow this simple plan: eliminate and fumigate.

ELIMINATE any odor-causing agents—wash your sheets, throw out the antique beer cans, and see what you can find under your desk.  Simply lathering Febreeze on will only give everyone in the room a headache.  After you’ve cleaned everything that can be cleaned,

FUMIGATE.  Febreeze it up.  Not too much.  Just a gentle spray towards the center of the room.  If, after 15 minutes, your room smells of sunshine and kisses in the rain, you’ve done just right.  If your room smells like a laundromat, open a window and turn on the fan.


After a relatively clean smell is established, lighting some delicious-smelling candles is always a plus.  Other things to avoid include your wall collage of out-of-focus party photos.  I know, you really did rape in beer pong that night.

Lighting is important!  Try to produce soft, natural-looking light—a magical kiss isn’t so magical with a glaring, fluorescent friend buzzing overhead.  Candles are always a plus, but be careful with scents and some can be quite strong.  And please, don’t stick your candle right next to all of your precious books and papers.

Also, votives—tiny glass bowls/cylinders with a candle at the bottom—add fantastic and gorgeous lighting to any room when used correctly.  Place one or two clusters of these around your room, and you’re set.  These can be purchased at a lot of places—Target sells them—and be sure to include a long-distance grill lighter to avoid singeing your ego.

WARNING: Even if you plan on making sweet, sweet love to your woman, the last thing any woman wants to see upon entering your dorm room is a bouquet of condoms on your desk.  Keep these out of sight, but not hidden away so expertly that it takes a journey to Mordor to find them when you need them.


Whether it’s playing some of her favorite songs, surprising her with a poem by an author she loves, or giving her a homemade gift, keep your woman feeling like she’s special.  And when you show her you know what she likes and that you’ve taken the time to make things perfect, a memorable Valentine’s Day is sure to ensue.


These are just special ways that for you show your affection.  At the end of the day, she likes you for who you are.  Go forth, and do what you’ve been doing, just with a little extra affection.

Go forth, men, and reap what you sow.

And there it is!  I hope you enjoyed reading the article that was too raunchy for the campus newspaper.

Take that, Daily Trojan.



The Apple Store is NOT Ok

<queue kingly snob voice>: A most epic title with which Sir Timothy to return to the blogosphere…<nose slowly turns up>…mmm…yes…<nose has become vertical>..quite.

My dear readers, I must apologize.  It has been several decades since I last blogged.  But I’m back because…well…I need to be.  If I’m ever going to attempt to make this writing she-bang work out I should probably try to produce some…well…writing!  (and the heroic optimist within me would like to believe that me blogging contributes at least a little something to the world)

Before I begin my triumphant return, it’s worth mentioning that I’m writing for another blog about the relationship between alcohol and college (and gettin’ paid for it), that is probably worth at least a skim purely for seeing the hilarity of the contrast between my posts and the three other “student bloggers,” who are in my opinion attempting to either recreate or relive their college essay (“I knew then, AT THAT MOMENT, that things had to change..), post-by-post, for the suffering of all (check it out at

That said, the Apple Store is just NOT ok folks.  It is just not ok.

Last weekend found me on a epic adventure to Pasadena with my roommate.  After carousing around the adorable downtown area, we inevitably found ourselves at the aforementioned cultural graveyard because my roommate “needed” to get an iPhone.

The first thing you notice when you walk into the Apple Store is that you have NO idea who the hell actually works there.  After a time, you realize that all of the douchey people wandering around in ripped jeans and blue shirts aren’t just douchey people wandering around in ripped jeans and blue shirts—they actually work in this “store.”

After my roommate spent 10 minutes trying to flag down one of these “employees” (who look like they’ve been caught somewhere between dropping out of art school and trying to find a job at Urban Outfitters), he negotiated the purchase of an iPhone.  I wandered around, soaking up the atmosphere and scoffing at the $40 Apple wanted to charge me for an iPhone case I later found for $10 on Amazon.  I returned to watch my roommate “check out.”

So we stand there for several minutes, with every downward glance of the employee toward his phone seeming to say “see how stylishly my jeans are ripped?”…”the contrast between these jeans and my Apple shirt is so rad” and “I’m going to blog later (on my Mac) about how much this job sucks.”

After revealing Apple’s at least semi-racist deposit policy (in which my roommate had to pay for the phone basically up-front because USC is in a ghetto area code), we departed, my roommate’s shiny new iPhone in hand, and with yours truly shaking his head in judgmental fashion, contemplating the blogular shredding of this experience that was to come…

So, the next time you’re trying to feel cool, hip, trendy, or just want to splurge on some over-priced software, please don’t go to the Apple Store.  Say screw it to the actually-not-so-individualistic-because-everyone-buys-it company, and become a true hipster—actually go to a thrift store instead of paying a 3000% increase for that Mickey Mouse t-shirt at Urban Outfitters, and forsake the iPhone, because I can only assume that true hipsters have reverted to communicating via some form of scripture.

Until next time….

(comments always appreciated, people)

And stay tuned for a truly EPIC blog post to come in the next week or so.  The preparation has already begun…on Facebook.  All will be explained.

I Δ Greek Life

DISCLAIMER: I do not have anything against Latinos.  That said, let’s get started.

Last night, I attended ( was dragged to) a Greek-life-related event that has left me more terrified for other human beings than I have ever been in my life.

This event was apparently called “Stomp the Yard” and I thought it would involve dancing (like the stupid, oh-my-God-look-I-can-clap-between-my-legs type).

There was nothing of the sort.

This event was actually put on by a Latino/Hispanic/I don’t know sorority–Delta Sigma Cappa whatever Lambda Phi.  It was put on in front of Heritage Hall, one of the main athletic/broish/where they keep the trophies buildings on campus.

When I first walked up with my two friends, I immediately noticed a few things:

1) I was the only white guy there.  Like, seriously.

2) The smell of cologne was so overpowering that I could actually taste it.

3) I have never been more out of place in my life.

I would like to point out that I was wearing a goofy scarf, two hoodies, and….shorts (I had taken all my jeans home the week before to save packing space….because it was supposed to be warm).  Sore thumb, y’heard me?

After an awkward 20 minutes of enduring C’n’C (Corona’nCologne, both of which were out in force), the “show” finally started.  The show begins with these three girls dressed in black trench coats, black sunglasses, black shoes, and no makeup marching out in the most awkward formation you’ve ever seen.  Think Trinity from the Matrix, but Latina style and completely not sexy.  I’ve created a beautiful image to help you visualize the look:

I can't decide whether or not it's racist that it's a David Beckham cologne. Thoughts?

Ok, now that the look is clarified.

These three girls marched up, and stopped in front of us.  Then, all the “sisters” of the sorority got up and gave a quick introduction.  The highlight of this by far was the shout-outs the “head sorority girl” or whatever she’s called gave to all the fraternities and sororities at the event.

When a fraternity was given a shout-out, the head frat guy would SCREAM out the frat’s name, and then all of the frat bros would yell together in some hilarious chant/greeting/you’re so stupid thing.  The best part was, there was probably six frats or so that did greetings, one after the other (they all sounded the same), and everybody was COMPLETELY straight-faced.  I was the only one trying desperately to suppress my laughter over fear of fratricide.

After all the frat bros had proven that they in fact failed to qualify as a part of humanity, the sororities were given their shout-outs.  Every sorority, without fail, did some weird fucking scream thing, all of which were pretty much a direct impersonation of Xena’s scream.  Yes, Xena, warrior princess.  Observe:

I wish I was kidding.  These people are so steeped in their own silly Greek system that they don’t even realize how stupid they’ve become.  What would Greek life do without me?

Alright, on to the main performance.

The three unsexy Latina Matrix girls (who I later found out were pledges), proceeded to recite some long, rambling chant/dance/I don’t even know “thing” for the next thirty minutes.  The best part was, they all talked in unison, and in this deep, froggy voice.  Think Golum, but with a few shots of helium.

Their “speech” basically consisted of endless masturbation of the already-overinflated egos of the top girls in the sorority, inter-spliced with popular song lyrics, and also included endless praise for their own sorority.  For the sake of the audience, these services were frequently offered in both English and Spanish.

The two top sorority girls stood on either side of them, strutting around like peacocks trapped in triangle-infested, delta-plastered sweatshirts, so full of themselves and their sorority that they were probably physically incapable of actually seeing other human beings at that point in time.  The best part is, they would chime in briefly with the girls for their favorite parts, often laughing and flicking their hair back as they did so.

I think it’s safe to say I’ve never been as disgusted by another human being as I was by these two girls.

After 30 minutes of utter degradation of the humanity, dignity, and integrity of these three pledges, I had a revelation–I saw the sorority system for the first time.  Here’s a helpful diagram of the sorority system:

If I forgot to include your sorority's symbol, please let me know.

Now, I know there are some very nice, very pretty, cool girls in the system.  Not all sorority girls are blood-sucking demon-bitches.    BUT, I do believe that most of the girls at the top are–and that’s why the system is so awful, so degrading, and so…ugh.

These are the “popular” girls from high school–the ones who only want to recreate their social power from high school.  Don’t believe me?  Ask around.  Go to an event like this.  Because it can only end in “holy shit!”

I’m sure not all sororities are like this, and I am an outsider looking in.  But from where I’m standing, my existence seems a lot more fun and less degrading than anything within a 3-mile radius of sorority life.

Everything said, thank God for stereotypes.  Thank God for the Greek system.  I Δ you Greek Life, because if you didn’t exist, what the hell would I write about?

Thanks for reading my perhaps most-eviscerating post yet.  Leave comments, people.  Like it?  Hate it?  Give me a “shout-out.”


« Older entries