What I Learned: August 14

This week, I spend time in Tarrytown in a rental car listening to trap music, complete the lap that made me almost weep, learn that technology is not your friend and that being a workaholic is a better substitute for alcohol.

Saturday:

I’m up with the birds and armed with Apple Maps (which, fuck you by the way) I climb into rented Ford Focus and feel like I’m in a jet because I’m doing checks like a pilot. I have about 120,000 songs on an iPod and wind up listening to of all things…Fall Out Boy. Don’t judge me, it beat the radio at 7am.

It’s true what they say about driving, your mind completely blanks out and you focus more on piloting a massive machine through highways built years before you were a thought by people who didn’t think those roads would even be traveled for as long as they have been.

You get super philosophical.

I find parking relatively easy at 7:30am (I was in traffic to boot and DIDN’T drag race once it cleared up…) and run upstairs to make sure that everything is where it’s supposed to be. Again. My personal life, total shitshow, professional life sorta put together.

The team shows up and we load in for our epic journey to the most magical place on earth: the MSG Training Center in Tarrytown NY. While on the way, we encounter the fail that is Apple Maps.

Have you ever driven in near circles in the middle of a scenic part of a town and immediately think, we’re a car full of minorities, isn’t this is how horror movies start?

drive faster

I watch too many movies.

Anyways. We make a few turns and wind up where we’re supposed to be…fuck you Apple Maps…sincerely.

I’m about 5’7 which in the WNBA makes me a guard and probably a decent prospect; in the NBA that makes me the water girl. We arrive and check in and walk into the Liberty side of the basketball court.

I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been there before but I still kinda swoon because that’s what I do.

We land some hilarious interviews and shoot what could be the hit of our mini summer vacation.

We climb back into the car, strangely inspired by the entire day (it was two hours that felt like less than that which is saying something) get 5 Napkin Burgers (which is a miracle) and pile into the office for a late shift.

Sunday:

Even if you want to play a game of treat yo self, you still wind up being incredibly responsible and climb into the fray super early and with a box of bagels for your mom. You also want nothing more than to get another win in terms of getting that date to happen.

The date doesn’t happen.

The sobbing continues.

On the upside, we get two great videos lined up and good to go and I land another byline for work.

I learned that I have to master the art of multitasking.

Also. John Wick is awesome.

Adrienne Palicki, Bridget Reagan and Keanu Reeves carrying guns and being complete assholes. this is basically porn.

Monday:

Screaming matches over stupid things are always fun.

Driving around late at night is even more fun.

I tackled the FDR to the West Side Highway and like a superhero, sat and listened to Kid Cudi wondering about what the hell life is doing with me and my fate these days. I miss the opportunity to get Waffle for a drive around because Waffle being Waffle kept being Waffle and wiffled on me. I was tempted to be a creeper and sit in the car outside waiting but decided that I can’t keep reeking of desperation. The fact that Waffle would’ve gotten in the car with me for fun while I said nothing and blasted music and driven around until drop off at work. These are the things that make me feel all kinds of funny to be honest. I learned that I should just trust my lack of impulse control when it comes to these kinds of situations. Especially when I want to share views like this. IMG_2932

My drive looked nothing like this but I did in fact blast Steve Aoki, so I guess you could say, we were on track.

Tuesday:

So I had rum and cokes.

Wednesday:

Multitasking is multi-taxing but it’s done and honestly, I keep telling myself, I was unemployed last year. Stop bitching so fucking much.

I mean it’s one thing to be overwhelmed and completely burned out but it’s a whole other level if you’re completely like…miserable.

I can’t be miserable.

My brain can’t process that correctly.

My brain shorts out actually.

I know I’m due for a meltdown but I’m also due for an upgrade so I guess you have to burn things down to build something new from it.

I wind up in Jim Hanley’s Universe and have rather interesting conversations about some of the plot fuck ups in X-Factor (which I have admittedly not been keeping up with) but apparently, it’s a big nasty soap opera. I love the fact that out of many of the shops that I’ve been to, this is the only one that actively keeps you in the store with shit talk and comic gossip rather than aisle after aisle of things to look at and maybe consider buying. There’s a strange comfort in the nerd herd. Unsurprisingly, I pick up a bunch of titles that will take me until NEXT WEEK, to read but fuck it, I mean it’s what happens when you work; you get to do things you love.

One day I will write and work for Marvel.

It’s on the list of things to do before I die.

So’s a trip to London.

Fuck it, let’s do both.

Thursday:

Accomplished many a thing, including successfully feeding myself at a decent hour, addressing stuff and things and planning planning planning.

I wound up getting a preview screening pass to see Straight Outta Compton through work which was sweet. It’s insane that all this happened in my lifetime and I’ve basically grown up with this music; I lived through the of many anti-establishment movements fueled by music and made by people who just wanted their voices heard and the vision to just make shit happen. That doesn’t work anymore does it? That unyielding sense of success and self confidence that is needed to take what sounds like a failing idea or a longshot and make it actually happen. Think about it. Ice Cube was the hardest rapper in the game (still is) at the time and just transitioned because he just wanted to do it. Dre just wanted to make music that didn’t suck and E just had the momentum to bring everyone together. It’s probably one of the best made music biopics and some of the moments that happen made me oddly nostalgic for the time where my mom said I couldn’t listen to Metallica, NWA, Public Enemy and when she caught on, The Beastie Boys. Kids aren’t told ‘that’s bad for you’ and if they are, they don’t give a flying fuck. Go see it, it’s worth it.

It’s also creepy how damn near EXACT O’Shea Jackson Jr. resembles his father.

Best cosplay ever.

Friday:

For Whom The Bell Tolls indeed.

In on time despite a late start, doing a bunch of things for the next three days and eagerly anticipating…I dunno…a small moment to think, read a comic book and do more writing because I owe some people some of my letters rearranged into words.

Friday:

I had a salad. That’s not interesting until you realize and understand that my fat ass wants a burger and booze and to be left alone with Waffle on a romantic dinner date where all we do is talk shit and laugh at things.

I’m seeking a gal pal at this point.

An Angie to my  Peggy.

A Sandy to my Danny.

A Laura to my Carmilla.

Basically I’m just rehashing old feelings.

The weekend should be spectacular. Stay tuned.

Marshall Mathers LP Turns 15

I’m not okay.

I was probably 14 or 15 at the time. TRL was becoming a juggernaut and I was printing Em lyrics in typing class. I went out to The Wiz and bought it. The cashier pointed out the Parental Advisory sticker (she’d also sold me other tagged albums before) I said, “I know.” and handed over my money.

What would follow was a year of obsessive listening, understanding that not everyone is a happy camper and that there are people who happily talk shit and will hit back. I wasn’t a devout rap fan. I’m a New Yorker and at the time, we know our shit was hype. The rest of the country hadn’t even touched what New York or Los Angeles had with the genre and then here comes Marshall with Detroit on his shoulders, a blonde mop on top and the Mr. Just Don’t Give A Fuck attitude. I had the album on repeat. It’s a lyrical backflip, wordplay and exposing piece of rap that few other albums have ever managed to do. He was struggling with fame, he was struggling with his identity, he was in the beginning stages of addiction, struggling with being the only guy who was willing to be as wild as his lyrics. He was well aware of the target on his back and vented the frustrations into the album that would encapsulate a strange time in pop history. He wound up in verbal sparring (and physical altercations) with lesser rappers (Fucking Benzino) and wind up on top.

I wound up understanding that there was Marshall and there was Slim and there’s Shady. I understood that in order to survive we just make different masks, different personas to cope with the disaster of it all. MMLP came to mark a time in my life where I had no idea what I was doing (still done) felt like I had to have multiple personalities in order to make things happen for myself. It’s true. I created them and they are working, they battle each other a lot of the time but they’re also conflicting representations of who I can be. The irony is that that’s exactly what happened with MMLP; it captures moments from 2000, it captures moments from Em’s life, Marshall’s life, Slim and Shady’s life. It’s a triptych telling one version of events that modern albums don’t do anymore.

It’s a concept record.

The closest we’ve come to another series of albums on that level is Kid Cudi’s Man on The Moon but it’s taking three albums to do what Marshall did in one.

For all the pop and radio friendly tracks, Remember Me, Amittyville, Drug Ballad carried some of the heaviest pieces of lyricism that showed the raw lyrical power that Em posses. It’s why he’s the king of freestyles. It’s why, fifteen years later he can comfortably call himself a Rap God.

MMLP 2 pales in comparison, it’s admittedly a copy paste version of MMLP and stumbles where Recovery soared but he was right when he said “I can put out the same album twice and you retards will buy it.”

Sigh.

Fifteen years later. I love it.

Justin Timberlake’s New Video

There’s Voli (Pitbull)

There’s Circo (Diddy)

There’s El Cartel (Daddy Yankee)

There’s Crystal Head (Dan Aykroyd. I KNOW?!)

Casamigos (George Clooney) -missed branding for Migos though-

Casa Noble (Carlos Santana)

There are a few celebrity owned and championed liquors out on the market but very few of them have gone above and beyond to showcase their belief in the brand.

Enter. Justin Timberlake.

If you caught J.T on his 20/20 World Tour you’ll recall he had a VIP section bar that served Sauza 901. Timberlake, a native of Tennessee, forwent doing whiskey for tequila. Yesterday, Timberlake launched a video where the actor musician and a few other friends are donning giant limeheads and talking about their time in the spotlight before the apparently super smooth and mega tasty Sauza rolled up and fucked it all up with it’s ability to be enjoyed lime free. The clip feels like a lost episode of Behind The Music (Maybe Behind The Bar? SHOW IDEA!) and follows the lime’s rise and fall in the world of booze accouterment.

It makes sense too.

Today is the made up holiday  and Sauza is a tequila so….

Happy Cinco De Mayo

I Wanna Get Better

So.

full disclosure.

I’ve been struggling with unemployment for the past few months.

At first, it started out as a massive kick to the face. Dear God, here I am, 29 (at the time) earning my way through the complex digital world, meeting people, networking, not truly understanding the power I wield but I’m paying my bills on time and contributing the the toxic sludge that is the internet.

so paid

so paid

After a few days, it turned into a mini vacation. I was still meeting people for chats, consulting on best practices, sleeping in a bit, hanging out with people. It was like seeing the world for the first time in awhile. Obligations were gone for a moment.

but forever

After about a month, it became a debilitating, soul crushing experience. Waking up early to stare off at the job listings screen, wondering why anyone wasn’t returning my calls or emails then forcing myself to eat breakfast then go to the gym to clear my head.

srsly

After two months, my birthday.

I’m now 30 years old.

I can’t celebrate anything really. I have a party of sorts. I get a little drunk but it’s that kind of drunk where you want your feelings to drown so you can float to the surface, embracing clarity and say you’ll never do that again knowing damn well you’re going to do it.

It all feels like a surreal nightmare where I’ve been dropped into a Fincher movie; all muted hyper colors and textures and there’s an alternate version of me walking around, successfully. Okay so I may have described the plot to Fight Club but it’s the same idea really. There is another version of me, improving, living, thriving.

I am Jack’s complete disillusionment

 

I figure, while I’m booking random gigs, for which I am grateful, I would just try to live a little bit. I try going out early in the day, New York in the summer is my favorite type but I find myself getting up early to go to the gym, be upset, get rejection letters, going home, showering and sitting in my bedroom, AC barely on watching Netflix.

You do a lot of soul searching and personal assessing when something like this happens. As it happens, I’ve been coping with a separation, so it was basically a mega shitshow hurricando mega force suckfest. You start picking things apart, putting the pieces into boxes to really get a big picture and see what happened. I didn’t lose my job due to performance, just the economics of the business. Like a survivor on Lost or Gilligan’s Island, I pick through the debris and see what I can salvage. Turns out I’m more a Gilligan than a Professor. Mercifully, the relationship is still sort of salvageable, but that’s a whole other entry. OR several. Stiff upper lip, I work through it.

I go to a lot of bar events.

I don’t tan.

I’ve dyed my hair at least four times already.

By August I book a gig working the U. S. Open (I dye my hair an acceptable color) The job feels like summer camp really.

When I close out this job, I make the note to spend more time in a gym because there is nothing on Serena Williams’ body that jiggles. THE BOOTY REAL.

actually watched this match. it was intense

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I make money, meet people, pass around my business card and discuss business opportunities but the entire time, I find that I’m struggling with just what is that I am offering? What is that I do?

I continue checking my email, sending my resume out, collecting rejection letters, random messages for gigs and the occasional offer to enlarge my penis. As if my problems aren’t enough, my phantom dick is small. fuck my life.

I go to New York Comic Con.

IMG_0372

where I sat in the same room as Edward Norton and Michael Keaton

I work a Thanksgiving Day commercial for one day, setting up office in a home gym in a house with a price tag that makes me weep.

I work a lot of odd jobs.

I work.

What am I doing?!

I’ve become a drone, mindlessly filling out job application after application, hoping to at least land a gig that caters to my skill set. I apply for retail jobs, knowing full well they are the very textbook definition of temporary and I fear repeating the vicious cycle that the last six years have been. (As me about it some time, I’ll tell you all about it. Preferably over drinks.)  I wind up doing more writing and land a few pieces on Vh-1 which fuels me to find my niche and again I’m dumbfounded.

I’ve never done a career assessment. Ever.

In college, I was always in the career office looking at job postings, figuring I can do that, that sounds easy enough. I never sat with anyone to discuss my skills and interests. I never figured out what it was thatI could do and then was completely baffled as to why I had been passed for the position. I still never went to see anyone about it, figuring it was because I hadn’t had a proper resume to begin with. How many times as a college student were you passed on a job because you didn’t have a job before? (I’ve been working since the age of fourteen)

After that, I just dove head first into everything that I could, figuring something would stick in my wheelhouse. I worked in A&R, I worked as a camera operator, post production assistant, I was a copywriter, I was a delivery girl (woman!), I ran social media for various entities. I did it all, I did too much, I wanted to do more. I’d bitched about everything going on, as is the right of all working people in a capitalist society doing what they can to survive.

I have a resume with various skills but none of that experience tallied into a single marketable skill; there is no singular thing that I can define as my ability. (Swearing doesn’t count, sadly) I have a fairly succinct resume, divided between all my media work and then my production work into two fairly respectable entities, never mind the jobs in between all of that. Looking at them side by side, I feel like I’ve been a million different people from one day to the next and none of us can agree on just who we are professionally; we just want to collect the credit, the experience, file it and see where it takes us. (forget the hot mess that I am on a personal level.)

Just what the fuck is it that I do?

Like I said. I’ve never done a career assessment. I’ve had professional friends work with me on molding and shaping who I am, or at least guiding me in the direction to which is best suited to my abilities. We all agreed that I am a Swiss Army Knife. Adaptable to situations, capable, smart, stylish. Pocket sized.

I should pick a better selfie

I tried to do it myself.

What I’ve figured out so far is that I write a lot, (ramble coherently mostly), enjoy comic books, movies, I have pretty gay tendencies, I like animals, movies, off-color humor, drinking and swearing.

Basically I’m a Puerto Rican Judd Apatow character.

(if he was y’know a little more diverse in his writing)

I struggle with anxiety and I learned that when I speak to people, I have to memorize a script so that I can avoid mumbling something incoherent. (Fun fact! I was a theater kid for most of my life but my decision to get tattoos and dye my hair often tanked it.) I started getting more in depth with researching things, reading deeper into some articles. I wrote down ideas and tried testing them out on this blog. I tried dressing better too; apparently t-shirt and jeans is not standard grown lady apparel. I did not receive that notice. Studies indicate that doing little things to improve one’s appearance can increase their confidence and outwardly influence people they meet and thusly line your pockets with money. (vicious cycle)

Now armed with this newfound knowledge, I send out my resume, cover letter and articles to various publications in the hope that one of these strange traits will land me something somewhat resembling an opportunity but I still feel fake. I work and tweak the details, polish myself up, sell sell sell. I curb my social media habits, especially if I’m using them to market myself. I can’t have my moody music posts deterring people from considering me. (we’ve all posted Coldplay songs, shut up) Even with all of this, I feel off.

There’s a nagging feeling at the back of my head. Something I keep missing and I know it.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

I didn’t list that as something I’m fully capable of doing.

me editing this mess

When I was employed full time, all I did was write on the side, the phantom ideas taking up my headspace while working on sheets, deadlines and deliveries. When I lost my job, I broke out all my notebooks, pouring over them, pulling them apart for deeper ideas and I started working on them. It felt much like looking through a yearbook when you’ve completely failed at everything. You want to find the place it went wrong and pick up from there, with fresh arms and legs to carry it.  I broke out a fresh notebook, Post It’s tucked into margins with plot points I had to remember and things I need to remember with world building. I started working on them all the time, hoping that maybe all the experience I’d collected would just pour out in the next great American novel because so far, my luck has been terrible. What’s the worst that could happen, really?

The one thing that’s kept me sane has been writing. My reading has declined substantially despite my growing book hoarding habits (thanks Strand!)  and article perusing while job hunting but my writing, my writing has continued. My last article for Vh-1, the controversial Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You May Be Christmas’ Greatest Song. Ever, landed me my first blockbuster article share (including a RT from Mariah’s team) and first brush with “U R A RETARD GO FUK URSELF MARIAH SUX” hate mail in the comments section. I’ve placed six with them and am trying to work on a full time reccurring segment of sorts but haven’t found the right hook as of yet. Truthfully, I haven’t been able to match that just yet; it’s the Thriller article of my young writing career. I’m working on Bad but fear that all anyone will ever want is Thriller. The fact is, I’m writing, so, that’s a good thing.

So.

Let’s recap.

I lost my job.

I worked a lot of other jobs.

I’m still looking for a job.

I will talk about work with you. Over drinks. Or not. Whatever.

Here’s what I do:

  1. I write
  2. I direct
  3. I produce
  4. I create
  5. I take pictures of random animals that I find in the street and fight the urge to bring them home with me because I’m unemployed and can’t afford that kind of lifestyle right now.
  6. I offer tech support in emerging technologies
  7. I tell dick joks
  8. I can manage YouTube, Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Vine accounts. With some bilingual flair.
  9. I am a strange brand indeed but you won’t be bored.
  10. I’m the invisiblecircus

Let’s see where it goes because I want to be a better me.

Ten Years, Ten Songs Part 1

Ten Years Later, These Pop Songs Still Get Us

 

Believe it or not, some of your favorite songs are turning ten years old this year. Take a minute to appreciate that. Celebrate these ten favorites by taking a trip down memory lane and showing off at your next Throwback Thursday karaoke party.

 

Rihanna- Pon De Replay

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oEauWw9ZGrA

It’s hard to believe we’ve been jamming to Rihanna for ten years. What’s also hard? Them abs.

 

Snoop Dogg ft Pharrell Williams – Drop it Like It’s Hot

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GtUVQei3nX4

Admit it, you still try to emulate Pharrell’s tongue click and hum this when using a microwave.

 

Gwen Stefani – Hollaback Girl

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kgjkth6BRRY

Uh huh, holy s**t this song is ten years old. You still remember how to spell banana thanks to this song.

 

Ciara ft Missy Elliott- 1,2 Step

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBHNgV6_znU

This…track…is… ten years old are you feeling old yet? Still can’t skate dance either. Ciara’s hips are hypnotizing.

 

Fall Out Boy – Dance, Dance

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6MOKXm8x50

The kings of guyliner, pop punk playfulness and those sweet sweet dance moves. Still don’t know what they’re saying after all these years.

 

Mariah Carey – We Belong Together

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0habxsuXW4g

Possibly one of Mariah’s most quotable love songs just behind “Always Be My Baby”, like MC herself has aged well.

 

Rob Thomas – Lonely No More

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7spBU4Yv8fE

The song that always seem to be on lite radio’s perpetual loop whenever you go to the doctor’s office, drug store or a ride with your aunt in her 05 Camry.

 

Game ft 50 Cent – Hate It or Love It

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BuMBmK5uksg

Bringing New York and Los Angeles rap together, however briefly, over a classic Marvin Gaye melody, this song still manages to make you bop.

Kanye West ft Jamie Foxx – Gold Digger

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vwNcNOTVzY

Eighteen years, eighteen years…

 

The Black Eyed Peas – My Humps

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iEe_eraFWWs

Few songs have boggled the mind of music fans more than what exactly humps the BEPs were referring to, 10 years later scholars and scientists alike agree, nobody knows.

 

I’m @invisiblecircus on the Twitters. Let’s talk about the good ol days and telling kids to get off our digital lawns.

I Listened to “Trigga” Because You Didn’t Tell Me It Was Out

While Usher was sitting in a spin chair on The Voice, he left the lane wide open for other sexy men to infiltrate the musical bedrooms of young ladies. In that time we had Jason Derulo try to get us to “Talk Dirty” (curses, that sax hook is stuck in my head now) and never to be outdone Mr. Steal Your Girl, Trey Songz made us want to work out more with “Nana.” While Usher spends time reminding you why he is really that good, Trigga was released this week so he can bask in the juicy that is dirty sex and booze.

You didn’t tell me.

Now I’m going to listen to it.

Italics are lyrics.

Track 1 Cake

There are not enough songs about booty in the world.

Trap trap trap beats.

:30 I’m taken but I want you

: 48 You can’t have cake and eat it too

but aint that what you supposed to do? 

Cake’s on the menu. 

This song is about Cake. NOTHING ELSE. Trey obviously loves pastries.

Track 2 Foreign

We’re going on a sex adventure with Trey.

Colombia, France, Australia…

This is already better than Talk Dirty only because while naming it manages to convince you that other girls from other countries are hot, there is no sax loop to drive you insane and subsequently have your  parents dance. Passports are important.

You know I had to cop that foreign.

Track 3 Na Na

This song was designed to blow out speakers and probably backs.

I think I already did and I’m alone at home.

ayyeee.

Three tracks in and I think the goal is to have already gotten clothes off.

Track 4 Touchin, Lovin feat Nicki Minaj

Reunited with Nicki and the pre-chorus is a nod to R.Kelly/ Biggie’s Fuckin You Tonight.

The dirty old bitch that I am finds that endearing.

This is the ‘we’re in our underwear’ portion of the album.

IT IS ONLY TRACK 4.

2:40 Nicki bringing the fire, call 911. Lyrically, she’s just been impeccable since dropping that lame persona she picked up from Gaga.

Track 5 Disrespectful ft Mila J

Alright, we’re on a storytelling tip right now. Picture both of you cheating and neither of you caring about your significant other because HE’S WEARING YOUR MAN’S SLIPPERS BUT TRIGGA DON’T CARE.

ugh.

This song is terrible with how real it is because there are people who really don’t give two shits about the side piece wearing the main piece’s things.

Also real catchy.

Track 6 Dead Wrong feat Ty Dolla $ign

All of these songs about hoes and clubs being disrespectful. Who hurt you Trey?

But the hoes gonna do what they want

Trey’s done a fantastic job of know where his strengths are and the production so far has really been complimentary to that ‘pre club, pre game’ crowd. Features have been solid so far.

Also, this is the hickey portion of the sexing theoretically happening to this album.

Track 7 All We Do

Welcome to the creep part of the album. Elastic snaps, slow delivery high snap snares. This is basically a slow mo video.

1:20 All we do is fuck drink and sleep.

I’m clearly in the wrong line of work.

Actually shocked that the bestie Drake isn’t on this track, this literally all he talks about.

All we do is let the hook repeat too often tho.

Track 8 Foreign Remix feat Justin Bieber

I want to skip this so badly…

:30 Dominican Puerto Rican yea they do it for me. *justin beieber

I WANT TO LIGHT MYSELF ON FIRE.

couldn’t do it. Gotta skip and the features were really good right until this happened. JESUS BE ANTI BACTERIAL GEL.

Track 9 Late Night feat Juicy J

Mike Will Made It production.

We’re telling time with more trap music and late night booty calls, which are the only ones anyone is interested in. If you’re calling for brunch sex, please ask elsewhere. Like the girlfriend you’re cheating on with the late night jump off.

At this point you’ve probably chilled a bit and are getting snacks but run back because Juicy J is on.

2:30 SHE RATCHET DIRTY DIANA. 

Juicy J has been incredible with the pop culture references. People have actually had to explain the Jeffery Dahmer line in Dark Horse.

Track 10 SmartPhones

Starts with the buzz from a phone on a flat surface that makes you look for your own phone to make sure it’s not the bae…because you’re out cheating remember?

This is the track that makes you remember that cheating and drinking is bad so you want to say sorry and you find the right words using a Trey Songz song vs a say…Robin Thicke. You also will leave the lyrics to this on a FB status.

1:45 So if she heard it all. I’m all out of love tonight. I could say it was a joke but who am I kidding she ain’t slow.

He’s giving me Usher circa “Confessions” feelings right now.

Now I’m gonna say whatever it takes.

time is not on our side cause she’s waving goodbye goodbye

Smartphones dumb shit

Track 11 Yes, No Maybe

We’ve hit the part of the album where all that Mr Steal Your Girl’ing has gotten you caught in the feels and she’s going out and doing all that Ms. Steal Your Man thing that hoes do.

This is the song that’s about the fact that fidelity is difficult and people let each other be hoes while they hope they can get it out of their system just so they can get married but we all know the old saying, can’t make a ho a housewife but good luck with that

Dragged on too long.

Track 12 Y.A.S

Slow piano over trap snare.

:49 Guess I got used to hearing whatever I wanted to hear

Guess I got used to feeling like you were supposed to give it here

She ain’t got nothing good to say so she ain’t saying nothin.

Lot of dudes not listening to their ladies.

Y.A.S is an acronym for You Aint Shit.

THIS IS GENIUS.

This is the dress down track because she’s found the dude that’s actually not Trey (it’s actually Usher) and he’s much better. The butthurt sincerity is real and the track has taken a hilarious dramatic piano jab and it’s bordering into R.Kelly storytelling theatrics.

Track 13 Change Your Mind

The cute pop track that gets buried at the bottom of these albums because you don’t want to be THAT soft dude but the lady has to know you cuddle and wear matching Snuggies while watching Netflix. It’s 90s pop snap that someone young would’ve done to break into the scene.

Change my mind Trey, g’head

 

Track 14 What’s Best For You

The break up song.

Always buried at the end of the album after all the hoe-ing is done. There’s a sincerity in his delivery that really makes him stand out vocally. Again, another vintage sounding track with well produced layering and approach that kinda makes up for all the drinking we just did.

In case you’re keeping score, this is the part where the making out has stopped and you’re kinda in that cuddle mode.

Track 15 Love Around The World

We’re back to finding all the girls we met in the “Foreign” track because the passport is missing and can’t get back to the bae without it so we have to treat this like the Hangover and retrace our steps with makin love with all the ladies in the cities we’ve been and dig around the couch cushions for that passport.

I’ve made LOoooooove all around the world.

Pitbull better watch his back…Mr. Steal Your Girl might be Mr. Worldwide.

Track 16 I Know (Can’t Get It Back)

Violins and synths…this should be good.

:20 I never had time for you

This is why you went on your international plow festival?!

1:00 I’ve been living my life in these clubs

but but…you made me change my mind!!

These hoes ain’t loyal.

The violin loop is just the most right now.

Track 17 Mr. Steal Your Girl

We’ve reached the sensual part of the album where now we’ve learned that he’s not going to get back with the other girl so here we are about to do some nekkid stuffs because let’s face it, all that’s why  pressed play on this album. KAY?

I’m glad we got to that point.

1:50 Let your man know that Mr. Steal Your Girl is back

I didn’t doubt it.

Overall, Trigga is one of those albums that you know Songz goes into the studio intending to deliver the goods…musically, boning is optional. It’s the album you listen to when you’re feeling a type of way (horny) and it may not hold up for overall listening a year from now simply because the material is almost a retread of his older work. Vocally he’s in his element and production wise he definitely succeeds in challenging the new school or urban r&b hierarchy since the seat seems to be vacated. A few tracks drag but they’re more for the DJs who will definitely use these tracks in the club…

The Five People You See in The Gym

It’s that time of year where we dust off the gym memberships we got at the beginning of the year because for some reason we forgot that summer typically calls for less clothing.

Morally obligated we trudge to the gym.

Here are some of the people you’ll meet while you’re there, sweating and suffering from your own success:

The Girl In The Stretchy Pants

She’s always on the Stair Master, GNC bottle in the compartment, white iPod headphones and a bright candy colored iPhone tucked into the pocket you didn’t know yoga pants came with. This one is constantly being stared at and you’re somewhat guilty of the same but it’s more out of being a gym newbie than envious of her physique. You can typically tell what her motivation is and you’re not in a particular space to judge but it’s like, c’mon, what’s the point of going to the gym if you’re just going to do that and not really do anything except text someone and casually glance up at the flat screens showing daytime talk shows on mute. You’re not being judgey but you know her Instagram feed is made up of selfies, hookah and some random shots of her living her beautiful life. Oh and the hashtags. SO. Many. HASHTAGS.

Her spirit animal:  Anyone wearing yoga pants

Playlist:

Beyonce- Partition

Iggy Azalea – Work

Rihanna – Pour It Up

Katy Perry ft Juicy J – Dark Horse

Jennifer Lopez ft French Montana – I Luh Ya Papi

The New Workout Plan

They’re a little heavier than they meant to be, a little slower and maybe saggier but goddamnit, they’re doing it, they’re really doing it. Walking a negative two miles an hour, they’re sweating and gripping the sides of that treadmill with their old school headphones on and super loud music but they don’t care. They’re retired, they’re trying to get off that heart medication and feel a little better about themselves. You’ve got to admire them because they’re going to outlive you since they managed to keep up with going to the gym while you made up at least four good reasons why you couldn’t go to the gym but had five good reasons to hit that open bar without a second thought.

Their spirit animal: The Little Engine That Could

Playlist:

Marc Anthony: Vivir Mi Vida

Theme from Rocky

Katy Perry- Roar (That song by the nice girl who talks about roaring)

Dj Khaled- All I Do Is Win

C+C Music Factory – Boriqua Anthem

The Gym Goon

They don’t move for anyone. They don’t understand excuse me and grunt when you push past them anyway to get the ten pound weights you’re pretty sure you’re going to regret picking up. They’ve got the extra large water bottle filled with something that looks like clam chowder. They’re staring intently at their reflection, pumping away and making the sounds you make when you’re trying to get between your couch and the plug without moving the couch too much. They then sweat everywhere, pat themselves on the back and leave all the way to heavy to move by a normal person weights scattered around like Lego pieces designed to cripple you before you can even start your workout.

Spirit Animal: Vintage Arnold

White Zombie- Super Beast

Kanye West – Stronger

AC/DC – Thunderstruck

Puff Daddy ft Busta Rhymes – Victory

Eminem ft Nate Dogg – Til I Collapse

The Lothorio

He strolls in wearing tight Addias pants, polo shirts and the thinnest looking shoes ever. He’s probably got on noise canceling Beats headphones or white iPod headphones and it’s blasting bachata. Yes. Soft latin music is blaring out of his ears while he picks up the heaviest looking weights on the rack, stands like he’s being drawn like one of Jack’s French girls and proceeds to lift them as though he’s making love to himself. If he’s not in a heartbreak hotel mood, he’s listening to dembow, which is also loud. For some reason, he’s come with a pack of friends. They’re all barrel chested and not in the way that says, “we’re the bastions of fitness” it’s in that “we spent money at the hookah bar and bought bottles because we can.” They pick fights in the strangest places. They are not the most interesting people in the world, just interesting to look at. Kinda like a car wreck.

Spirit Animal: Romeo Santos or Omega el Fuerte

Romeo ft Drake – Odio

Monchi y Alejandra – Dos Locos

Shakira ft  El Cata – Loca

Omega el Fuerte – Mambo Electrico

Maffio – No Tengo Dinero

The Success Story

That would be you because despite all of those hilarious stereotypes, here you are, three times a week, tired and maybe a little disheartened but dedicated. Sure, you’re not where you want to be just yet and maybe you keep forgetting to update your fitness app tracker with your progress but you’re starting to eat better and see a difference and that’s what counts. Each of these weirdos can offer some kind of inspiration for you as you get onto that treadmill, start that elliptical, ride the bike or lift five pound weights. We’re living longer than ever and we have to look good in the bodies we’re stuck with. So listen to your music, walk your walk, strut in there with your Lulemon pants, fresh Nike sneakers, brand new water bottle and work your ass off.

Ignore them. We’re all there for our own reasons. Keep up with it.

BONUS