Poor evening habits

Perhaps it's necessary to engage in lengthy baking activities late in the evening before work the next day. Maybe there are bake-off's or other holiday company festivities to attend. We understand. Happens all the time here. Back when our sub-minimum wage employees were still gainfully "employed" and palliated by our mounds and mounds of illicit healthcare, their incessant munchies led to frequent unofficial, muncie-initiated cake parties. As "boss", I've often made monkey cake. You might think that after that last time, I've learned my lesson. And I have! This time, it turned out a bit more like the photo on the bottom. Success!

This isn't about the usual unbridled success experienced every day, all the time by us here at superimportant though. This is another cautionary tale for you. Since we know you're now probably too smart to bake drunk, on the verge of passing out, this is more of a suggestion on a restful sleep.

Restful sleep is important to enjoy the next day's bake-off and be alert enough to bribe the judges to vote for your entry. One way to avoid restful sleep is to indulge in bits and pieces of your baking during the process. That leads to nightmares. Even if it doesn't, you'd be an idiot to watch a really brutal horror movie while your entry is in the oven. Let's say you've got three choices of ways to pass the time via Netflix A) Oscar Winning Sean Penn movie "Milk" B) Rob Zombie's remake of the classic John Carpenter film "Halloween" C) Something called "Dear Zachary.

I don't care what you do, don't choose B) "Halloween". No. Seriously. Don't do it. What the fuck. It's engineered to scare the fuck out of you and give you nightmares if you watch it IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY. But that shit's going to embed itself into your brain if you watch it all sugared up at 1am. No, seriously. You will not sleep well. Trust me. You're going to have fucking nightmares and wake up in cold sweats. It's really going to be quite terrible. Don't fucking do it. Milk or Dear Zachary might make you freakin' cry like a baby, but at least they won't make you involuntarily pee your pants in the middle of the night.

So there you go. Merry Christmas again. Don't say we never get anything for you.

"A Morning Album": The Superimportant Christmas Shopping guide, item #1

The holidays are upon us, and if you're like me, you've been well aware of this since before Halloween, but haven't done anything about it other than use your knot of Christmas lights as a Halloween costume. Apparently Christmas is a mere ten days away and not only have you not gotten anything for your Dad, but you don't even know what you COULD get for the old man and haven't known for the better part of the aught's. As always, superimportant is here to help, with our innate & delicate sensibilities, and cunning knack for nailing JUST the right gifts for this giving season. So sit right here on Santa's lap and don't bother telling us what it is you want... WE ALREADY KNOW.

A Morning Playlist

The first wisps of brisk dawn air through the floor length curtains at the far end of your apartment make you wonder "why did I leave the windows open? It's fucking freezing out! I'm going back to bed." But once they waft the first impressions of a brand new day across your fitful slumber and peaceful dreams, I can imagine nothing more comforting than the accompaniment of a soothing soundtrack much like the one superimportant finds unavoidable each morning. Your ears will feel like they're waking up in bed with our arm awkwardly draped across your chest while you listen to the same things that start our days off so wonderfully.

Tracklist

1) Jackhammer
2) Downstairs Neighbor's music
3) Car alarm
4) Minimalist Gunshot Stacatto No 12
5) Octagenarian Landlord's Emphysema cough/yell/explosion
6) NPR's Jonathan Schwartz
7) Upstairs Neighbor's music
8) Dog

Delicately crafted to welcome you to every day with the authentic wonder of city living, this is one gift that's sure to please even the most stalwart of Scrooges.

All I wanted was a box of cheez-its, and I ended up with all this damn PRODUCE.

Which brings me to my next point. Amidst the leeks, peppers, mushrooms, potatoes, onions and spinach deliciously dropped into my basket under delusions of omelettes, fritattas or maybe chunky homemade spaghetti sauce, were a pair of apples and a bunch of bananas. The bananas were just about ripe enough - maybe ready even as early as tomorrow morning - to slice up on top of Honey Bunches of Oats, and the Gala apples were delicious. That's right, juicy and delicious. The last time I had a piece of fruit was ... like just now.

This bodes ill for the future of www.lasttimeihadapieceoffruit.com, but the entire point of the brilliant blog idea was for one of YOU guys to pick it up & run with it, and since that clearly hasn't happened, I suppose it's necessary to take the ball back into my own court. This won't stop my dogged enterprise of idea propogation though. I promise you, my faithful readers, that superimportant will henceforth return to the fount of inspiration, motivation and elucidation it was always intended to be.



For those of you dismayed over the clear failure of lasttimeIhadapieceofFruit.com, I just want to let you know that all I had for dinner was that apple and half a box of cheez-its. That should be a comforting thought for just about anything.

A New Blog Idea DOT COM

By my math, it's been something like 18 months since superimportant was last updated. We can blame it all on the economy. The Executive staff had been anxiously waiting for a healthcare bill to pass, and in this naieve expectation, we blew a LOT of our budget on what now appears to be a wholly inadequate alternative for our employees. Essentially, all the funds we extracted from the writing staff's paychecks subsidized a very large group of metalhead drug dealers in Williamsburg who regularly dropped off a dizzying array of analgesics at our offices. Medically, this was probably not quite appropriate, but it kept the writers placated. Very, very placated. And then shit all went downhill. Let's just say "complications" arose with the delivery of the health care. Our providers were put out of business, and almost our entire writing staff got wrapped up in it too. Surprisingly, the executive staff escaped completely unscathed. Many of our former staffers have been able to keep in touch, and their letters are startlingly antagonistic, laced with grandly insulting invective implying their lives in prison are actually *better* than writing for superimportant. Balderdash, we say.

So naturally, superimportant had to take a break to reorganize the office, settle into the witness protection program, convince ourselves of our new identities, and shred all of the documents we saved on our undocumented workers. These things take time. And in that time, ideas have been brewing. Sooooo many ideas. This is where you faithful readers can come in to steal them! See, we're coming up with stuff for you all to run with. There's some legal copy buried in code, written backwards, somewhere on this website that obligates you to a (rather hefty) royalty fork-over to us when your blog gets published into a book, and if you can find it & decipher it, you'll find that it's air-fucking tight. Let this not dissuade you from sharing your creative impulses at our behest! Superimportant hardly has the staff to expand all of it's endeavors, but since it's Christmas, this is our gift to you: our ideas!

Let's start!
First idea: lasttimeihadapieceoffruit.com

Because honestly, I can't remember the last time I had a piece of fruit. There are dried up peaches in my Honey Bunches of Oats (with peaches!) but those, and the raisins I put on top in the morning, don't count. We're talking like, A WHOLE BANANA here. Or an APPLE. I eat fruit about as often as I go to the dentist, and I refuse to believe there's any sort of connection to those two facts and my several cavities. So this blog's going to be all about the other crappy shit I eat INSTEAD of stuff that's good for me. Let's take last night for example. "Oh, I was feeling like indulging my massive sweet tooth on this dismal Sunday evening of watching all three of my Netflix rentals twice, so I ventured outside my apartment for the first time of the day at 5:00pm to buy a sleeve of Oreos from the bodega across the street. That not being substantial enough for a proper meal, I supplemented the delightful treat with a dollop of (all-natural) peanut butter for each cookie while complimenting it with a robust IPA from Troeg's brewery." Something like that. Run with it! Many, many more brilliant ideas are coming in the months ahead. Our cadre of painkillers was surprisingly never confiscated, and was also hidden in the same subcellar/escape tunnel as our "new ideas" binders. We've got a stash! Superimportant rises again!

These are the best pens in the world

In Superimportant's tireless quest to take the pain & frustration out of your life, we present to you the conclusive conclusion on what we know for you has been a painful, tiring quest. We can say with authority that Uni-ball Vision pens are the best. That's it. The best. The best what? Pen. The best pen. Nothing more needs to be said.

But we'll say more. For years, we have used these pens for our stunning & groundbreaking artwork. Let us remind you that we buy these pens in bulk at Staples. Not some fancy art store where they try to convince you that moleskine is worth it, but Staples, where no one gives a crap about anything you do. The smooth, unbroken line is not as variable in weight as you can get with a traditional fountain pen, but with a light touch and some persistence, one can achieve a variety of density with this low cost pen.

The color is solid and deeply black. At times, the wet ink may smudge, but that's only because we have this way of writing where it looks like we're a lefty, but we use our right hand. People have been pointing and laughing at us because of this for years. It's a source of great humiliation, so we'd appreciate it if you didn't really bring it up.

Furthermore, and this is important, we now now that when you inevitably leave your pen in the pocket of your shorts when doing your laundry, it will not burst, completely ruining all of your clothes. Which brings me to a point about cargo shorts and why maybe we'll just give up on them and wear plaid golf shorts from now on. Who really needs all those pockets anyway? And how are we supposed to remember what's in all of them? How many washed $20 bills is it going to take? How many packs of Now & Laters stuck to my ass is it going to take? How many cellphones have to be lost to the unforgiving maelstrom of the 24 hour laundromat? Enough with the pockets! As if it wasn't hard enough figuring out what that mystery inner pocket inside the right front pocket is all about. It hurts my fingers to try & get errant change out of that inexplicable thing.

In conclusion, just go with the uni-balls. But don't shop at Staples during the week before college starts. It's a goddamn madhouse in there.

I seriously can't get enough of Entenmann's Raspberry Danish Twist

Oh man, I feel like I'm 12 again. Or 14. Or 8. Maybe even 20. Who knows when I first had Entenmann's Raspberry Danish Twist for the first time? But it was definitely in an even year of my life. Definitely. But oooh, that sticks with you. What DO they put in this junk food that makes it so addictive? Sugar? Is that it? Sugar? Genius, really. So simple. They should put sugars in everything. Simple, complex? Gimme a goddamn break, it's delicious.

Is this good for me? Clearly not. Do I care? I certainly should. If you follow twitter, you'll know that A) I'm concerned with my health. Hence the frequent "I'm watching something like Ghostbusters on Hulu while riding my rollers in my apartment and sweating my balls off" posts. The rollers. They're good things. It's like having a gym in your apartment. Like Nordicflex or the Crazy Fit Vibration Plate Fitness Machine. Holy. Crap. I think I'm gonna get myself one of those things. I thought they were outlawed in the 50's because they didn't do a goddamn thing. Like the way Halcion was outlawed in the 90's, except that Halcion certainly did stuff, and my Dad apparently has been hanging on to a couple pills somehow. (Abrupt discontinuation of Halcion can cause convulsions, cramps, tremor, vomiting, sweating, feeling ill, perceptual problems, and insomnia. "Disturbing thoughts" and something called "Traveler's Amnesia" are also warned about).

So yeah, pretty much not like Halcion at all. But I can see the Crazy Fit Full Body Vibrator sitting in a corner collecting dust and working as a thrilling sex toy, at least. Oh man...there are all sorts of worthless, yet accidental-sex-toy-gems on that overstock link!

Take the Giddyup Core Excersizer here. No explanation necessary.

Or this ball-chair thing. OK, I can't think of anything salubrious about it really, but it looks hilarious. Let's order 'em for the kids here at the superimportant offices so I can run around knocking them off their chairs so much easier! Wait, $110 a pop? F that. The kids are staying on the floor.

Anyway, I'm delighted and slightly mystified that my Google Image search for Entenmann's came up with this, eventually:
I definitely, definitely feel like I'm 12 again. Or at least 22.

listening to songs alphabetically is far superior

There are something like 5000 songs on my iPod. Maybe 5000 hours. I can't remember. Whichever is more. It's a lot of music. And it's all good. Probably better than yours. Anyway, the point is, I have a far more superior way of listening to my music than you do. Alphabetical order by song. That's right. It's clear you've never thought of this yourself. It's not entirely worth me explaining why it's totally so much better than your "shuffle" or "playlist", because by now you should know to trust superimportant news. Honestly...how would shuffle ever put "America" from West Side Story right before "America" by Weezer & Soul Coughing. Why do I have West Side Story on my iPod? That's seriously none of your business. Before "America" was "Ambush" by Sepultura. Come on! My music listening is far more rewarding than yours.

Starve a fever, feed a whole box of girl scout cookies to a cold

That's the way the old saying goes, right? If so, why do I still feel so goddamn shitty? I'm just trying to adhere to the only wisdom i know. It's a collective history that teaches us how to take care of ourselves, and I'm honoring that history by eating that entire box of Samoas. Why is my nose still running? I'm even more than half way through the box of Lemonades. Why are my sinuses freaking killing me? What does our American mythology have to say for itself when it's folklore - clearly more accurate than its science - still cannot help me cure my common cold. I am furious.