Psych, Jokes, ‘N’ Rock & Roll: Bitching and moaning about food

Ice Cream NH

When I was younger, I could eat anything I wanted. Now I can eat, like, only seven types of food. Food is complicated. It’s time to ruminate about different topics in the world of food.

Eating healthily. It’s so difficult to eat healthily. Or at least, it’s difficult eat healthily and not have the same diet as a gerbil. I am amazed that while I try to eat healthier, I don’t have a goddamn clue what to eat. Carbs? Bad. Protein? Bad. Fat…FAT?!?! Fat getting inside my body, yeah right. Forget everything that sounds bad, even good stuff like apples are not as healthy as people once thought. We live in a world where there are no healthy foods, just foods that are less poisonous than others.

I’ve attempted to eat healthier, but the nutrition facts on boxes aren’t helping. Does anyone know how to read nutrition facts? What exactly am I looking for? I note the serving per box and the calories, but what the hell comes next? There’s vitamin B, B6, B12….If I have two servings of B6, does that equal one serving of B12? The content amounts are all in grams, which might explain why drug dealers are so skinny. Although I start out wanting a breakfast, I end up trying to solve an algebra problem.

I know nothing about the ingredients. Riboflavin, Thiamin, Niacin – what kind of Pokémon characters am I eating? Just tell me a box of Frosted Flakes = 19 Krispy Kreme Original Glazed and a Spicy Without and I’ll understand. Continue Reading


Psych, Jokes, & Rock ‘n’ Roll: “Love” that everyone knows

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Dear BlogDH Reader,

I’m not the biggest fan of February. It’s the short, weird month. It’s also the month that produces those annoying eight-year-olds who adamantly claim they’re only two years old. (Honestly, what the hell is February 29th?) The only thing I enjoy about February is that it’s the month of love. Although Valentine’s Day was two weeks ago, let us use the final day of the month celebrate love one last time. Instead of talking about romantic, filial, or family love, I want to honor the other types of “love”…after the jump. Continue Reading


Psych, Jokes, & Rock ‘n’ Roll: Unpacking the success of Tinder

slotmachineloveTinder? I barely know her. If you have not yet downloaded the app, you’ve probably seen its (omnipresent) ads. Perhaps you’ve even seen how two of our writers have enjoyed their own Tinder experiences. This remarkably addictive smartphone application has seen a meteoric spike in popularity on campuses all over the nation. Why? Before answering this question, you should first have a basic understanding of how Tinder works.

Now let us unpack the main components of Tinder’s success: Continue Reading


Psych, Jokes, & Rock ‘n’ Roll: Booty calls vs. butt dials

Have you ever noticed that a booty call and a butt dial actually mean the same thing? If I just blew your mind, then good. It’s about time we started a dialogue concerning the reason that two totally different things have the same goddamn description.

Our perpetual state of being

I’ve recently been in discussions with Oxford Institute lexicologists who, unfortunately, have repeatedly refused to acknowledge my complaint. Surely the higher ups realize that because the booty giveth and the butt taketh away, an immediate change of cellphone lingo is imperative. Since these older men refuse to answer my calls (neither booty nor butt), for the time being these terms remain unchanged.

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Psych, Jokes, & Rock ‘n’ Roll: Now is not the time to read…

Quadricep’s Law: As bloodflow to the legs increases, literary retention increases. Or something like that.

I don’t always find people who amuse me, but when I do, they’re people who read at the gym. These are the lost souls who go to the gym to pore over texts while on the treadmill, elliptical, or stationary bike. I’m a practical guy, so never once have I thought, “I’m sweaty, it’s noisy, I’m bouncing up and down. What great conditions to take in a little Hemingway!” Humans who do this fall into a stratum of society which, for the sake of generalization, I will refer to as “the readrunner.” In true field guide fashion, here are my notes on this remarkable (read: unfathomable) group of beings.

One type of readrunner can most often be found in the Bear’s Lear and Bigelow Lounge. They’re usually (but not always) ladies engulfed in pink headbands, spandex, and “Seniors ‘11: Our Debt Goes Through Heaven” shirts. Clutching their copy of People, they anxiously wait 10-20 minutes to use a cardio machine. I would like to remind these people that there are actually three jillion other machines and exercises they can be doing that, God forbid, don’t involve reading about KStew and RPatz.

Of course, this is an unfair stereotype, since not every readrunner cares about gossip. Some enjoy material that’s a little too relevant. At the Nelson Center, there’s a new magazine rack that has all your favorites — I’m particularly fond of Walker’s Weekly and Tight Glutes Digest. The most ironic sight is the readrunner on the treadmill who is simultaneously reading Runner’s World. He’s looking for tips on how to be a better runner. That’s like eating a fortune cookie where the fortune reads Stop eating cookies, fatso.

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Psych, Jokes, & Rock ‘n’ Roll: What’s a date?

George Carlin said a comedian’s job is to remind you of things you were too busy to laugh at the first time. In our daily college routines, we do things that we take for granted—stuff we hate, stuff we love, stuff that makes us downright uncomfortable. This column observes these minutia, combining observational comedy with the psychology of the people, objects, and interactions we all share.

Was that a date? At one point or another, you’ve asked yourself that question. Some nights you want to answer yes, others no. Thanks to our society’s abstract language, chances are a few of your evenings out have fallen into that weird iffy zone. When it comes to dating and relationships, we cower behind euphemisms and flat-out goofy language.

Have you been on a date?
Let’s see—I’ve gone out three times, I’ve grabbed lunch four times, twice I’ve done coffee. I guess that’s zero dates.
But weren’t you just seeing someone?
Well, I was seeing Gertrude, but then my glaucoma kicked in.

Being on a date is like belonging to a Fight Club: You don’t talk about the date (plus the boy thinks he is Brad Pitt.) So you don’t say date, you say, “Would you like to get coffee?” since there’s no better first impression than having coffee breath and jitters. You say, “I was wondering if you’d like to grab lunch or something.” If there is any WONDER involved and an OR SOMETHING, the person is interested. Also, GRAB plays the meal off as insignificant and quick—two words that hopefully don’t describe you. Continue Reading