Scuppie Inc.

As those who get quirky with Zooey Deschanel every Tuesday night watching New Girl know (please forgive the plebeian reference if you’re someone who exclusively limits their online piracy to Girls HBO episodes), sometimes twenty somethings skip a generation or two when it comes to dating. Zooey’s televised shenanigans include hooking up with her student’s parent (which is probably frowned upon in the far-less-quirky real world). I don’t know the name of the actor who plays him, but I DO know he was the oldest son in The Family Stone. *credit to my ashamed anonymous friend who recognized him*

Cross-generational dating happens all the time in Scuppie Land without the help of platforms like sugarbaby4u.com. Whether it’s some doe-eyed ingenue dating a head writer, or some lowly non-profit maven eye-fucking the shit out of an affluent board member during a fundraising meeting, Scuppies don’t care which decade from the 1900’s their bo was born into. Unless it’s like, you know, the 60’s or earlier*.
*THAT WAS DIRECTED AT YOU ANN CURRY. I AM NOT INTERESTED BUT I ADMIRE YOUR WORK. PLEASE STOP SENDING THE EDIBLE ARRANGEMENTS.

Let’s break down this important first world problem into pros and corresponding cons:

Pro: You get to feel like a real adult before age 30. They like wine bars? They don’t know what Coachella is? They know how to use floppy discs? Sign me up!

Con: That faux sense of maturity will make friends resent you as much as them knowing full well that your parents shell out rent and foot the greek yogurt bill for 5+ years after graduation.
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Pro: Less gyrating. I’m convinced that no one loves actually having sex as often as Game of Thrones would have us believe.

Con: Less gyrating. They had a really long day at their real job, ok? Save the frisk for Friday. Or the next Friday maybe?
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Pro: You can read a printed novel that isn’t Fifty Shades or Hunger Games without your partner accusing you of being a pretentious poser. You’re probably still a poser, though. I’m sorry but no one “can’t put down” Atlas Shrugged.

Con: What your partner is reading: Didn’t my Mom pick up that same novel from Costco last week?
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Pro: They’ll never say something like:
“you just do you.”

That last one makes it clear and quite frankly overrules all the cons.
The verdict is in— Don’t be afraid to give salt and pepper a taste, you mildly adventurous person.

Now, go forward some Gawker articles to people who just get you.

“I read this when there’s a lull at work and my sassy Canadian friend Rhonda isn’t in the office. Girl has some crazy stories!”- Someone who works with an allegedly hilarious Canadian named Rhonda

“Pure Internet escapism: I almost forgot how I did gay-for-pay the first year I lived in Los Angeles”- Jared Leto’s acting coach

“A snark fart if I ever saw one— And I once sat next to Joy Behar on a plane”- Dissatisfied Delta Frequent Flyer

“WHAT a revelation.”- Hillary Clinton’s gay best friend from the 70’s

DISLIKE:
Jennifer Hudson, singing to her fat self

Remember when Oprah’s fat-self shared the cover of O Magazine with her former ab-clad-self? Good that Hudson’s experience was the opposite, but public self-flagellation just isn’t that cute in any form. Watching this is like watching Silas’ thigh belt cilice squeeze in “The Da Vinci Code,” albeit with a catchier hook— Both experiences are highly uncomfortable, and not even close to sexually exciting!

Headlines like this: “Beyonce is Already a Wonderful Mom!”

OK, so even if this quote came from Michelle of Destiny’s Child, what a world we live in where not selling baby pictures for millions [just yet] grants a woman Grade A Motherhood status. According to a zoology-inspired Mother’s Day NYT article, “Among several mammals, including lions, mice and monkeys, females will either spontaneously abort their fetuses or abandon their newborns when times prove rocky or a new male swaggers into town.” Congrats, Bey, you have beaten some of the mammal kingdom! Unless you go into heat for Fassbender and ditch Jay and Little Boy Blue.

Fairy Tales in Modern Media

I mean, obviously. Just wait, there will be some edgy sexed-up version of Little Miss Muffet starring Helena Bonham Carter next Spring. Count on it.

Girls who are all “I hate resolutions! Eeek! Pressure!”

The only thing worse than the hordes of sinners looking for redemption by taking your elliptical at the gym, is the girl who militantly makes a point of hating resolutions. I feel like I’m watching a cold reading by Kirsten Dunst in the 90’s. It’s that bad.

LIKE:
“Brink!”

OK, dirties complete with porn ‘staches may have worn the trend of warm weather rollerblading into the ground over the last couple of years, but that doesn’t mean that Scuppies can’t still enjoy the greatest treasure from the canon of Disney Channel Originals. It’s Brink! It’s Erik von Detten!

Dumpster diving behind Anthropologie

It’s a recession, and Mama needs a new table lamp with a jeweled elk fixture.

Get Off My Internets

Other people who, like me, feel that cyber bullying is better served in forums of ripened prose that rip bloggers to bits!

As college grads flock to their homelands due to the recession and parent-footed rent, the honeymoon phase of familiarity and old friends wears thin, and Charlize Theron’s jarring narrative in “Young Adult” strikes a chord. Let’s take a look at some of the breeds from the high school ecosystem who came home to roost.

Extreme[ly douchey] Sports Fanatic

Maybe he was some lax team assface, or the kid who posted “Rave in the Woods” pictures on their Myspace at age 14 . Adored for their outdoorsy, pine-fresh personality, they were never a persona non grata in highschool. But, have they progressed, flat lined, or become profanely irritating due to daily practice of a Himalayan sherpa’s version of BODYPUMP?
Unless an ice-pick-only climber prodigy passed away, this guy hasn’t posted on his Facebook in ages. While the rest of us toil away with pithy statuses and pretentious Youtube links we think might be worth posting for the three strangers who haven’t written off our online presence as the epitome of self-promotion, never fear, because this tea-baggin’ d-bag is just as toolish. Just when you think they’re not like the rest of us, there’s footage posted of them making some outrageous ski jump over a moose, or an uploaded photo album revealing that they’ve been living in a cave at Four Corners, undetected for months in a “bliss without technology,” which they dared only to interrupt to tell you so via social media.

Flower Child Soccer Goddess

A Homecoming Queen Miss Seventeen with a hemp-flavored twist. It’s not hard to be HBIC in high school when she’s cloyingly charismatic, and, if possible, even more desirable than the hot bevy of popular modern dance girls who made up her inner circle. Too bad for you she’s just as revered as the day y’all left town. Plus, she was just tagged hanging with nerds you never thought could have stood a chance— fuck, are those pictures from Comic Con?
God damn it, she’s a legitimately good person. Gripe’s up.

Once and Never Again Prep

He was once a dumpy student council secretary, whose greatest attributes were a kind face and a temperament usually reserved for flamboyant theatre kids. He seems to have sprouted out of the ground and bloomed into a pouty-faced baby giraffe clad in skinny jeans. Perhaps the sophomoric bout of bulimia (which all gay men at liberal art schools seem to flirt with), also erased the requisite warmth he once had and replaced it with a Blank Bitch Stare.
I can’t really decide if he dislikes everyone except for Lana Del Ray, has gotten marginally cooler, or is sincerely unaware of how much he aggressively blue-steel-style glares at strangers and acquaintances alike. Or, just maybe, he’s simply disparaged by his fruit fly’s newfound juicy sustenance in a monogamous relationship (rather than the surrogacy of affection she was provided by Glee-watching-hummus-noshing sessions with him).

It’s a jungle, out there, folks.

Stay posted for more Alumni updates that will hit very close to home.

About two years ago, the christening of Scuppie Inc. seemed reactionary to the social climate— I literally couldn’t walk into a coffee shop without laying witness to some toolkit proselytizing the benefits of a fixed-gear. In short, the methods of social categorization on this blog seemed relevant.

I very much imagine that in 2012, however, those who throw down “hipster jokes” will in many ways be regarded similarly to those who tried to liven up pillow talk with “blonde jokes” after the year 2004- you’re not really sure if they were just on Ambien, or if they actually thought it was funny and worth sharing.

So the labels have become antiquated and changed, but the annoying people still exist, amiright*?
_____________________________
*Sorry I thought I could get away with that internet buzzword butchery reserved for sluts and women who blog about losing weight.
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Despite the sea changes of self-expression which have shifted from alternative to normative (face it— even people who watch E! might have a Spotify playlist to rival your own), I find myself as amused and fed up with the fodder of the entitled generation as ever. And that includes my own self-loathing.

Let’s face it— unless you Teached for America’s pregnant teens or Peace Corp’d out to rural Mongolia, this recession probably tore you a new one. If only my naive Summer-2008-Self (who thought that those gas prices were the worst I’d ever have to weather, and that my chichi internship in theatre development would “completely pay off”) had, oh I don’t know, considered being an engineer, or something.

I don’t know about you, but I grew up thinking that capable Cum Laude 25-year-olds could land stable museum curator positions that allowed for a decent wardrobe. Fast-forward to the shit show that is 2012, and I know several Harvard and Yale grads who are wage working with the best of us. Oh unfulfilled expectations, you’ve fueled the emotional entitlement and angst quota of my peers well into the next century. I could blame all the TV shows filled with unrealistic expectations about living in Chicago… but “The Good Wife” is on soon, and I really want to watch it in a non-ironic fashion.

To think that only two years ago marked an emphatic phone call to my sister, alerting her that my bitchery had finally found an outlet that, legally speaking, narrowly avoids the definition cyber bullying. Bottoms up, champs, the bitch is back.

Irreverentially yours,

-Scuppie Inc.

Pictured Above: The Scuppie in question, at a tender age

Ah, graduation season. Such a tenuous spot for any college senior to be in. Whether you’re already buying your texts for medical school, Teaching for America(’s illegal immigrants), or embarking on a sojourn to Switzerland with your siblings, your parents’ friends will undoubtedly spend most of Easter Brunch inquiring as to your postgraduate plans. No matter what you do, PTHC is a handy solution for such social surveys. What’s PTHC, you may be asking? Nope, it’s not some pill that you didn’t take at that abandoned ballroom party (warehouses are just not cool anymore). PTHC, or “Play the Hippie Card” can get snooty stiff necks off your back during almost any occasion.
That being said, there are wrong ways to PTHC:
Q: What are your plans after graduating?
A; Hmm… Not quite sure. Probably dog walking. Only poodle mixes I can watch Vanguard documentary specials with though.

And, there are right ways:
Q: What are your plans after graduating?
A: I’m truly considering entrepreneurship. Probably recyclable prophylactics, or something of the sort.
Q: Pardon?
A: Recyclable prophylactics. I know most of my friends would rather eat non-organic tempeh than use a non-biodegradable reservoir tip.

Remember, silence by shock therapy is better than any answer to do with poodle mixes. And let’s face it, if you’re reading this blog, most of your answers probably had something to do with poodle mixes.

Rachel Getting Married- See Mom, this really puts my Tylenol PM habit into perspective.

The Vicious Kind- Brittany Snow’s redemption from John Tucker Must Die (which is still excellent).

Burn After Reading- Beltway dinner parties pair perfectly with George Clooney’s penchant for sex machines.

I Am Love- Get ready to feel extremely uncomfortable while watching, and extremely braggy to your friends afterwards.

The Last Days of Disco- All our lives for the next ten years.

Not feeling so pretentious? We’ve got you covered.

Movies that are great for when you’re in the mood for both Colin Farrell and Selkies?
Ondine.