A disturbing headline in avian current events caught our attention yesterday morning. You may have heard about this on your own but for those who don’t keep up with the news, somewhere in Arkansas on New Year’s Eve, 4,000 red-winged blackbirds rained from the sky, blanketing President Clinton’s backyard with dead bird carcasses. We’re not sure if bizarre completely captures the essence of that headline, but it definitely
freaked some folks out ruffled a few feathers here and there. Ha. Ha. Haaaa.
First Natalie Portman announces she’s pregnant by AND engaged to the dude who choreographed Black Swan. Interesting, no? THEN the Seattle Seahawks win the NFC West and make the damn playoffs with a 7 – 9 record. Hmm. And now we have 4000 dead birds falling from the sky? Now, normally after looking at the calendar and realizing 2012 is right around the corner anyone would half a brain would fully grasp that the world is coming to a close JUST how the Mayan homies warned us it would. BUT a well-trained yuppie eye might’ve noticed some clarifying details in the follow-up reports that throw a wrench in this theory.
Folks, the yuppie dilemma is real. It’s not something we made up. It happens everyday and it’s happening right now as you read this. It truly is the quintessential test of character for the premiumly enlightened; the pragmatic see-saw of courage in the face of knowledge vs. comfort & sanity. I know this not because I experience it first-hand daily. At this point in my life, sanity has a comfortable lead over courage. I know the yuppie dilemma is real because I witness the sanity of some of my dearest friends slip away for reasons I struggle to understand. My friends, I know that the yuppie dilemma exists precisely because someone was crazy enough to invent volunteer teaching. In the inner city. However, it’s precisely because of these friends that I keep writing in the hopes that courage will catch up someday.
I went on vacation to a friend’s lake house with a gang from the University days. As lively and rambunctious as they are talented, they are a group of eclectic interests and pursuits. A get together like we just had, a year after graduation, can easily turn into the The Yuppie Dilemma Summer Summit 2010.
Which is what I was hoping for. Naturally.
Ah, the World Cup of soccer. Other than the presidential election, it’s the greatest time to witness people who haven’t given a crap in almost four years all of a sudden pretend to be intensely invested in America. But who can blame them? We’ll be the first to admit that the World Cup is an exciting event. Hundreds of the world’s best players trying to write their futures, bring home some hardware and make their countries proud. Anytime there is that much on the line on such a large global stage, teams will go through great lengths to make sure their players are in tip-top shape to go out there and give it their all. So why all this huffing about athletes getting their swerve on?
So the president of Brazil is talking to some reporters about how their squad will emerge from the World Cup victorious. We don’t yet disagree, Brazil is no stranger to winning these things. But he then goes on to site that other teams (particularly the Argentinians) won’t be able to perform because their players are allowed to have sex throughout the tournament, leading to an inevitably poor and exhausted performance on the field.
Yeah, Mr. Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva. Right.
One of our friends sent this one over and we thought you should know. Before we begin, we wanted to flesh out our feelings about social media in general. Despite many of our gripes about privacy, spam, and the silly things people do with on it like change their last names to their middle names, it really is a great tool. To even get to this article, you probably clicked on a link we threw on The Book, or Tweeter or Google Buzz, so for that, props to social media for holding it down. But that’s only the tip of its powerful iceberg. I’ve seen Amber Alerts spread like wildfire more than a handful of times, going viral across Facebook statuses. How often they’ve led to a police capturing the guy in an old white van with no windows? We’re not certain. But on a social network of over 400 MILLION users (yes, that is more than the entire population of the U.S. of A), if a missing child alert goes even slightly viral, it has the potential to make an impact. However, in this particular case, all it took was a single profile.
Back in 1995, a guy in San Bernardino, California thought decided that it’d be a good idea to take his 2 and 3-year-old kids out for a drive. The only problem is that he didn’t tell their mommy that he wasn’t coming back… Continue reading
Spotted last night in South Boston, parked on the street.
Some yuppie bro certainly wasn’t pleased to discover his cherry red Jeep Wrangler fratmobile was filled with beer cups and trash and cocooned in Saran wrap. Authorities here at tyd.com were notified and we dispatched an investigation team to get to the bottom of this sadistic instance of yup-on-yup crime. While it provided a fair bit of humor to folks entering and exiting the bar it was parked in front of, we take things like this very seriously. Based on evidence we’ve gathered, we’ve narrowed down the suspect/motive list to two possibilities
- Bro’s of victim decides it would be funny to totally fill their bro’s Jeep Wrangler with crap and Saran wrap it under the cover of darkness
- Ex-gf of victim discovers unmentionables from unidentified skanky girl from victim’s workplace under the bed of victim. Proceeds to play Taylor Swift “Pictures to Burn” on repeat. Looks out window and sees victim’s car parked in front. Proceeds to begin settling score.
We are offering a cash reward pat on the back to anyone who provides information that leads to the arrest of either suspect. Requests for our private yuppie investigation services should be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org
With an hour to kill before storming our homie’s apartment to watch the Suns crap the bed against The Black Mamba, my friend and I head to a bar with a roof deck to quietly slug a $5 CANNED Bud Light. No, there was no typo there and the caps lock was used to recreate my outrage at the subtotal.
Of course, the place is deserted at 7:00 PM except for us. Oh, and the group of people bar crawling.
Before we could pop the tabs of our sinfully inflated domestic beers, we were joined by a young lady named Ashley from the bar crawl brigade. Shy, she was not. Thirsty, she was…
One of the reasons summer nights in the city are great is because you can walk everywhere. Several years back, I was leaving a bar in New York with some pals on a balmy night. Rather than hit the subway, we decided to trek back. However along the way I began to sense pressure on the dam. With no porta potty in site, I took a quick detour into a dimly lit alleyway to empty the reservoir. I found a nice, dry area of wall to do the honors and away I went, painting the brick with a masterpiece of urination as I swayed back and forth that Michelangelo or Ramon from Beat Street would’ve been proud of. My moment of artistic brilliance was interrupted by a mysterious voice coming from the shadows.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Being the candid and curious citizen that I am, I answered and countered with a question of my own.
“I’m taking an (expletive) piss, guy. What does it look like I’m (expletive) doing?”
When he emerged, our shadow friend, with his shiny badge and loaded firearm, wasn’t as charmed by my crude honesty or the fact that I was breaking the law. For my troubles I was given a $50 citation. Modest, but clearly avoidable. ANY sensible person can see that I was clearly a victim of our complete lack of infrastructure here in the United States, insofar as not having enough public urinals to relieve oneself. God bless theyuppiedilemma.com for allowing a platform to be a voice of the people and move this country forward. Because while we’re peeing against buildings like savages in the stone age, folks across the pond are using UriLift urinals that rise out of the freaking ground at night!
We (and by we, I mean me and probably many of you) are at a very peculiar age. It’s an age where I look at my driver’s license (usually when I’m being carded) and cock my head to the side, because I realize I’m a lot older than I feel I am. This feeling is usually abruptly interrupted by the moments when you realize how young you actually are, usually by being schooled by someone much older. Which is good, because we all need teachable moments. I learned a lesson so valuable the other night, that I would cock my head to the side until I broke my damn neck, just to make sure I never forget it.
A friend and former co-worker is getting married this weekend. He had a bachelor get-together, which falls somewhere between just another night and a bachelor party… Continue reading
You see, this is one of those products that I’m sure sounded really cool to the people who thought of it while they were drunk. Actually, We here at the dilemma are even having a hard time speaking out against it fully, because it combines to things that we love enough to have already posted on: Bicycles and flasks. But you can’t just combine two things that you like and assume that the outcome is something good. So unfortunately, the Surly Bike Flask & Spaceman cage is simply something we cannot endorse as a good idea.
This 6 oz flask comes with a custom cage that you can attach to your frame, putting it just within reach as you’re pedaling around town. Well, that would be a great idea, really. Except for the fact that there are multi-ton vehicles with engines that share the same road that will kill your drunk ass if you crash into them while riding one-handed and drinking spirits at the same time. Additionally, how one explains to a law enforcement official why they are reaching for their flask at a red light (if, of course, you stop for those while you’re riding)? I mean, unless the Tour De France is a bar crawl this year, I don’t see why anyone would need this. And the worst part is I can already see the back page story about the hipster who was pulverized by an SUV while they were riding their fixie (no brakes, of course) one night because they needed a little swig of hooch as they practiced their bike messenger maneuvers.
I’m not trying to be a jerk here. Not all bike messenger ride fixies and not all hipsters seek irony (did that come out right?). I’m also not trying to be a hypocrite, because those who know me personally may or may not have seen me handle the bars of the Millsybike when I’ve been a bit saucy. But in general, if you’re gonna be dumb, it’s not a good idea to advertise your recklessness in for the entire public to see. Drunk driving is a bad idea, and unfortunately we don’t live in a society where you can’t assume they aren’t on the road. But what if you saw someone cracking a beer open as they were driving?
Here us out. I know there’s going to be at least one tyd.com reader who looks to buy this flask. That’s fine, go ahead. Like we’ve said before, booze is expensive and we’re probably flasking it as much as the next person. But just do us a favor and don’t attach the cage to your damn bicycle. In fact, just leave your bike at home altogether. If it helps, think of it this way: that person you might meet tonight surely isn’t going to come home with you riding on your handlebars.
I have somehow developed a strange sense of entitlement when it comes to information. That is, I like knowing about things before others do. I’m not quite sure if this is a personality trait of mine that applies to all levels of information, because if it is, I can imagine how irritating this could be to the people around me. If you’ve been adversely affected by this, take this as my insincere apology
The problem has more to do with news though. In my mind, I’ve painted myself to be a dignitary among civilians. When one of the 12+ breaking news alerts I subscribe to hits the inbox of my phone, I secretly think “Thank you (insert reporter’s name) for keeping me in the loop, that’ll be all for now,” as if the story was an exclusive tidbit for me from a cabinet member and not slathered across their homepage being read by millions of folks everywhere. Besides making my Gmail inbox a nightmare, this complex of sorts really affects the way I process information.
I got an alert this morning that the Supreme Court just barred life jail sentences for minors who haven’t killed anyone. My first thoughts exactly were “Hold UP! Before this morning, we were throwing kids in jail for life who hadn’t killed anyone? Why didn’t anyone tell me this??” Relax Millsy, you must remember: you’re not really important.