I use Tinder. I’m not sure yet whether that’s cause for celebration, alarm, or somewhere in between, but there you go. For the uninitiated, Tinder is an app that shows you women (or men) in your area. If you “like” them (i.e., you think they’re attractive, because you’re given almost no other information about them aside from that), you swipe to the right. If you don’t because they’re ugly and therefore terrible human beings, you swipe to the left. If that person decides you’re attractive enough to talk to, they’ll also swipe to the right and you get a notification. And then YOU HOP ON THE INTIMACY TRAIN, NEXT STOP: FUCK STATION.*

*Results may vary.

Anyway, while on Tinder, I’ve noticed a few things that I think are worth sharing. Here are some of my findings.

1. Marilyn Monroe and “Almost Famous” are quoted entirely too much.

I get it- Marilyn Monroe is a cultural icon. Her contributions in the field of being pretty and occasionally saying interesting things are unparalleled. And “Almost Famous” is a perfectly decent, watchable movie. (Just kidding, that movie sucks except for Philip Seymour Hoffman.) But almost every other profile has some variation of “I always tell the girls, never take it seriously and you’ll always have fun, etc. etc.” and “If you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best,” and it’s goddamned tiresome. Not to mention it’s misquoted half the time. Also, I’m fairly certain some of these girls are just making up quotes and attributing them to Marilyn Monroe. Enough.

2. There are five types of pictures found in nearly every girl’s profile.

1) Arm awkwardly positioned on the hip. I don’t know what purpose this is supposed to serve. A word of advice: unless you’re planning on standing like you’re shooting a promo poster for a shitty CBS sitcom for the rest of your life, cut it out.

2) A picture of her and her friends in a bar somewhere. I was already operating under the assumption that you had friends, I don’t need a class photo of your posse to verify it. The worst is when the girl has similar-looking friends, because then I honestly can’t tell who’s who. DIVERSIFY, PLEASE. Throw a redhead or a black girl or a wheelchair-bound woman in the shot so I can at least narrow down the list of potential suspects.

3) Pictures of pets/nature. This isn’t your Facebook page. You get five photos maximum to give people an idea of what you look like, and you want to burn three of them on pictures of your Pekingese and a really neat flower you saw in a garden? Thanks, Ansel Adams.

4) Duck face. GET BACK ON MYSPACE WHERE YOU BELONG.

5) Bathroom selfies. Are you using a Motorola Razr? Is this 2004? Every phone has a front-facing camera on it now. Spare me the bathroom shot. (Note: 90% of the time, the phone is blocking your face. Kinda defeats the purpose, no?)

3. It’s always incredibly awkward to come across the profile of someone you actually know. I immediately get weirded out, which makes NO sense. It’s a popular app, so it stands to reason that I’d see people I know, but every time it happens, I act like I just saw them in a porn. FANCY SEEING YOU HERE! [Unzips fly]

4. People can be assholes on Tinder. One girl started a conversation with “Where do u live and what do u do” (no punctuation, because #YOLO). I told her, and she blocked me. What the fuck, lady? I guess I appreciate the directness of your questions, but you could have at least said “Sorry, I don’t think it’s a good fit” or something. Now I’m gonna stalk you out of sheer spite. Hope it was worth it.

Which brings me to my next point: why Tinder is useful. Tinder occupies the middle ground between Match/eHarmony and the terrifying cesspool of Craigslist. (Using Craigslist for dating is like using roofies to get over your shyness. Nothing good can come of it.) Whereas Match and eHarmony exist for people who are actively interested in getting to know someone on a more meaningful level and building a connection and Craigslist exists as a resource for folks in the market for a new skin suit, Tinder serves a multilayered purpose. If you want random hookups, you can do that; if you want to get to know someone and try your hand at dating them, the option is available. Not to get all in-depth and hackneyed, but it’s a good representation of our instant-gratification culture. Don’t like someone? A simple flick of your finger and they’re gone forever. Like someone but they don’t like you? Onto the next, and within 5 minutes you’ll forget what that person even looked like. Bored with someone? Just murder them and dump their corpse in a river. IT’S ALL SO SIMPLE!

Eventually, people won’t even need to worry about approaching someone in a public place and risk face-to-face rejection. Why would anybody subject themselves to public humiliation when they can try their luck with someone way out of their league in the safety and security of their own home? It is for this reason that Tinder and other websites (except, again, Craigslist) are an attractive option to some.

Conversely, however, I think there’s value in putting yourself in the vulnerable position of approaching a stranger face-to-face and saying “Hey, I thought I’d introduce myself” or “YOU’RE HAWT AND I WANNA CRUSH YOUR PUSSY DURR HURR”; even if it doesn’t go your way, you at least gain something in that failure. Because of that, I don’t think the practice of bothering women in bars (or men, I guess) will ever truly fade. In fact, I’ve often found myself wishing I had the confidence and self-assuredness to do that, but I guess I don’t. All I can do is think of the worst possible outcome and freeze up in terror before nervously pulling out my phone. “JUST CHECKING FACEBOOK AT THE BAR, GUYS- NOTHING TO SEE HERE.” So to the asshole who pesters clearly disinterested women at bars/clubs/outdoor theaters, I say this: I may not agree with your methods, but I applaud you for having the sack to take a shot.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go take pictures of a sunset and find some “Anchorman” quotes for my profile.

I normally try not to foist my musical tastes on others. Either they like my recommendations, which gives me a fleeting-at-best sense of pride, or they don’t, which makes me hate them and question everything they’ve ever stood for. But in this case, dear reader, I’m going to foist the fuck out of my musical tastes on you. (With an album that was released in 2011. Better late than never.)

Destroyer is Dan Bejar, who started recording in 1995 and has since made some badass music. (Side note: I love it when one person comes up with a band name. If he just used his own name, I’d probably never listen to him, because that’d make him sound folksy and I’m a finicky piece of shit. Good move, Bejar.) He’s also been compared to David Bowie, which I don’t get, but whatever. In all honesty, I’ve only listened to “Kaputt,” his most recent album, so maybe I’m not the best person to be singing his praises, but somebody has to. And make no mistake, “Kaputt” is a badass album.

I’ve long been a fan of weather-or-season-appropriate music; that is, I tend to categorize and listen to certain songs or artists depending on which weather conditions or season they fit best. And, with fall lurking around the corner waiting to ruin my mood like a fucking asshole, I thought now was as good a time as any to break this album back out. For the second year in a row, it doesn’t disappoint.

The album starts with “Chinatown,” one of the most outstanding songs on the whole goddamn thing. It’s not that the song or even the album are intense (they’re not), but there’s a certain je ne sais quoi about the whole deal. (Yes, I just used the phrase “je ne sais quoi” as a descriptor. And yes, I do feel like a dipshit for using it.)

From there, the hits keep on coming- “Suicide Demo for Kara Walker,” “Song For America,” and my personal favorite, “Kaputt.” I still remember where I was when I heard Kaputt for the first time, too: Durham, North Carolina, driving an Enterprise car near the ballpark in the fall. (Another quick aside: I hope Dan Bejar never kills himself, because Kara Walker will feel horribly if he does.)

Anyway, I’m not going to review the whole album, because there’s no point- those of you who want to check it out will do so, and those of you who don’t want to will hopefully get hit by a bus before day’s end. Besides, this isn’t Pitchfork (“This album struggles so hard to figure out what it wants to be, when all it has to do is be what it already is.”)

Enjoy the tunes.

I fucking hate being broke. I’m not talking about “I can’t afford this new suit! I’M SO BROKE!” broke, I’m talking about “I don’t know how I’m going to eat for the next five days” broke. On the one hand, I suppose it could be worse- I’m not homeless, after all. On the other hand…I CAN’T AFFORD THIS NEW SUIT.

Being broke is shitty for so many reasons. Hitting up bars is out, obviously, but even drinking alone puts a squeeze on the old purse strings. Plus, drinking alone is depressing for a multitude of reasons (I’ll get into that later.) Even the most mundane purchases put knots in my stomach, to the point where I have a mini panic attack. Getting a new MetroCard? KNOTS. Paying my gas bill? KNOTS. Buying groceries? FUCK ME MURDERSMURDERSMURDERS.

The worst part about being broke is the feeling that, despite your best efforts, it will never get better. After a while, being broke goes from a temporary condition to feeling like a permanent state of being- you come to think that all you’ll ever be is some poor schlub without a penny to his name. Even worse, you kinda start thinking you deserve it. “If I hadn’t bought that pair of shoes/that DVD/that porn site subscription, I wouldn’t be in this mess.” Which is totally fucked. I should be able to purchase all the porn I want! OURS IS A LAND OF FREEDOM AND PROSPERITY.

Exacerbating the whole situation is the fact that I don’t know how to improve my financial standing, so it all starts to get overwhelming at times. Which is why I don’t complain when I have to work on Labor Day, and it’s also why I drink alone.

If you have money, give me some or fuck off. (I don’t mean that. But seriously: gimme.)