Part of my brand is being pretty even-keel. Not a whole lot of things can get me out of equilibrium. But one thing that I absolutely DESPISE is those try-hards that jog in place while waiting for a stoplight to change.

I don’t know the science, but this can’t do much to actually improve a workout. Like actually remaining stationary and waiting for the light to change like a civilized fucking person can’t be that detrimental to the success of a workout. I’ve never been much of a working out guy, but whenever I do, I respect social norms and I don’t look like a psychopath in the crosswalk.

I just felt like something had to be done regarding this atrocity. I saw it while driving today and I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. For the record, I’m also out on working out with a partner, especially running. How am I supposed to maintain a conversation with someone while running out of breath every two seconds?

I’ve seen it a lot in dating app bios: “Looking for a gym buddy!” Toots, I can assure you, you don’t want this as a buddy. I don’t need a lady that I’m attempting to lay with see me red-faced and sweating at the gym while I try to do 40 pounds on curls because you know what they say: Curls for the girls. (Realistically, I would only do 30 pounds, but I can’t downplay my strength on the blog. I hope you understand my fib.)

Just to reiterate. Do not, I repeat DO NOT, jog in place while waiting for the signal to change at a stoplight. Tap-tap-revolution lookin’ ass.

-tomfoolery was here

I write this with a heavy heart: I’ve been watching some weird shit on Netflix lately. I’ve got a lot of time on my hands and rewatching The Office for the 4th time is simply not good enough. But does your Netflix queue indicate anything about your personality?

The two things I’ve watched on Netflix in the past few days were Bonding and the Ted Bundy movie with Troy Bolton playing the lead character. If my Netflix queue indicated what type of person I am, I should be into BDSM and getting dominated by a dominatrix and killing pretty girls.

I can’t really explain why I watched Bonding, maybe I was curious ever since I watched Rihanna’s “S&M” music video. I was 15 and singing along to the chorus of “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me.” Absolutely bananas that this was allowed on MTV and pop radio.

Now that I’m remembering, that whole album really had me feeling some type of way. That reminds me of the time I downloaded the explicit version of Enrique Iglesias’ song called “Tonight.” The radio edit said, “tonight, I’m lovin’ you.” I downloaded the version that said, “tonight, I’m fuckin’ you.”

My excuse was that I didn’t like censorship and wanted the original version. I played the song on the aux while my mom was in the car and she was none too pleased with me. I still get shit for this to this day.

Anyway, back to the original point. Why do we watch shit that we can’t relate to? Maybe that’s exactly why. We watch shit about serial killers and criminals because we can’t comprehend how someone could actually do these deeds. That’s some deep shit from tomfoolery on a Thursday.

-tomfoolery was here

Throughout the history of organized civilization, there have been many forms of communication, each seemingly more advanced than the last. We started with cave paintings and hieroglyphics and we’ve now evolved to FaceTime and emojis, which I suppose is a form of hieroglyphics so I guess things haven’t evolved too much.

By far, the absolute DUMBEST form of communication is whispering. Who the fuck thought this was a good idea? Let’s take a standard form of communicating and then let’s just make it harder.

The worst game of my childhood was Whisper Down the Lane. Absolutely traumatizing. I fucked that game up so many times. I apologize to Mrs. Neff’s 1st grade class for butchering the message on multiple occasions.

Instead, I urge more shouting. Look out for the people who can’t hear things. It’s 2019, no more whispering.

To be fair, I had drank alcohol once or twice before this story happened, but this was the first time I got drunk. Like twisted. On an official visit to a state school (no big deal, I was being recruited HARD as a college athlete), I had about four cups of beer from the keg. Such a weird environment. It was one of those townhouses where they had the keg in the shower and there were about 20 more people than should have been in the house. But I did not actually get drunk.

Anyway, the first time I actually got drunk was on Senior Week. I wasn’t allowed to go to the actual Senior Week, which is when everyone goes to Ocean City and gets shit-faced and sunburnt for seven days. I was able to convince my mom to let me go with my best friend for two days to Rehobeth (I’ve been told this is the gay beach, I cannot confirm nor deny). Another fun twist was that we were actually staying in my buddy’s family friend’s place (70-year-old lady, who was in fact home at the time) about 45 minutes from the beach. Not the most ideal scenario.

The night before we departed, I had no booze and was on the prowl for the elixir of life. I was hanging out with a bunch of friends who were juniors and I jokingly mentioned, “hey, I’m going to senior week tomorrow if anyone has any booze!” One of the guys said he had some rum. I asked how much for it, and I ended up paying $10 for a water bottle of Admiral Nelson rum.

It literally smelled like gasoline and was a dark brown color. My heart was racing as I hid the bottle in my underwear drawer until the next day. Mom didn’t find out and the time came to go to the beach.

After spending most of the day on the beach, we visited our other friends that were in town at a town house a few blocks away. I lost multiple games of KanJam and ended up running into my arch enemy from high school. I lost to this kid at least seven times in my wrestling career and he was staying in the same goddamn house that I was getting drunk at. He was dating a girl that was best friends with the people we were visiting. Confusing, I know, but stay with me.

It’s about 7 pm and I am chomping at the bit like a hungry shark. I decide to be the first person to start drinking. The weirdest part was that a table full of girls were watching me consume my first mixed drinks ever. I pour the lighter fluid into a red solo cup and pour a little bit of Coke in as a mixer. Why didn’t any of the experienced drinkers tell me how to make an actual mixed drink? The world may never know. I also mixed Orange Crush with this rum. Verdict: not great.

I drank about half the water bottle and I was off my rocker. I was twisted and causing a ruckus. There were glowsticks all around and a few of them ended up around my neck. I called my soon-to-be girlfriend several times. I hid in the blinds. I hid in someone’s room upstairs. They took my water bottle away and also tried to take my phone away. They thought I was going to call my mom. C’mon, I’m not that much of an idiot.

My best friend, who took the water bottle away from me, decided to drink it himself, getting very drunk and causing mayhem himself. Luckily, we had another person in our crew who decided to stay responsible. I fell asleep on the 45-minute car ride back to our lodging but I had to be on my best behavior because the fucking 70-year-old lady was somehow still up when we got back. She suspected nothing and I slept like a log that night.

And that’s the story of my first time drinking.

-tomfoolery was here

Look. There are a ton of problems in this world. Crocs, Toe Shoes, and un-ironic cowboy hats are the main ones that come to my mind. But the one thing that the Northeast Elitists seem to oppose the most is the combo 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner. And I simply refuse to allow this slander to continue.

In the same vein as khaki shorts (which are simply the most logical trouser when the weather gets warmer, people forget about how useful the pockets actually are), 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner seems to be universally hated by women. But there are many reasons why this hatred is unwarranted.

1. Cost – merely the most cost-efficient and effective hair product. 2 for the price of 1, and the family size bottle that my mom bought me yesterday will last about two months and only cost $3. More money for me to buy the special at the local dive bar for my Tinder date.
2. Color/Smell – It’s blue, which happens to be my favorite color. It also smells like the ocean, which is a nice touch.
3. Purpose – The percentage of young men in the age 18-34 demographic that actually care about their hair is not high enough to warrant any hair product other than the esteemed 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner

This wasn’t a blog. This was an ad for Suave Men 2-in-1 Ocean Charge Shampoo/Conditioner. Sponsor the blog, pls.

-tomfoolery was here

So I went 2-2 on my first Uneducated Guesses in the gambling world. I knew the Blazers were going to win, but I thought the Raptors were going to dominate the Sixers and they needed a miracle from Kawhi to move onto the Eastern Conference Finals. The under hit in both games, I should’ve known that things were going to tighten up in a Game 7. Oh well. We’ll get them next time.

This is the worst time of the night for me. I don’t have to wake up early tomorrow morning, but I cannot go to sleep yet. I’m just killing time until I’m ready to sleep. It’s a weird spot to be in. This is where I don’t know how to be an adult.

I want to read books. I feel like reading a book is a great way to exercise the mind. Right now, I just listen to podcasts and scroll my phone all day. Pretty sure my brain is mush. I read about eight chapters of a book in the fall and I haven’t opened it since. It’s such a weird concept to re-adjust to, this idea of reading for pleasure. I’ve spent the first 23 years of my life reading for a grade. I think I still need to take notes though because otherwise I would never retain any of the information.

Tomorrow begins my real summer. I’ve dubbed it the summer of Tommy. I’m going to read, write, walk, generally make myself a better person. Let’s go.

-tomfoolery was here.

It is the now the year of our lord, 2019, and thanks to the big whigs over in Silicon Valley billions of people across the world have access to the inter webs with a click of their sweaty, Cheeto dust crusted finger. Thanks to them, as well as generation X parents doing a questionable job rearing children for the last 30 years or so, every person now has a voice that they feel needs to be heard.

Self gratification is the name of the game, and for those who aren’t able to find it within themselves (thanks mom and dad) it’s quite convenient to search for it from strangers behind a screen all across the world. Do I know what I’m doing with my life? Of course not. Do I know the first thing about writing a blog? Sure don’t. Is that the perfect recipe for some uneducated guesses? You bet it is.

So here we go, welcome to the fucking jungle. We’re gonna be learning as we go, so bear with me through the trials and tribulations of finding the ole blog voice. But if ya decide to stick around, I promise it’ll be worth your while. As a wise man once said, “They laughed at Louis Armstrong when he said he was gonna go to the moon. Now he’s up there, laughing at them.”

-Danny Phantom