Farewell, Coffee Heath Bar Crunch

I'll just come right out with it. Coffee Heath Bar Crunch, one of the greatest Ben and Jerry's ice cream flavors ever made is no longer available. You haven't heard? I wish I was surprised by that. Unfortunately we live in a world where the mainstream media ignores real, relevant issues in favor of more eye-catching headlines. Luckily, I'm happy to help pick up their slack.

Now, I understand the fact that they took a great flavor off the shelves isn't newsworthy. We've all lost a favorite Ben and Jerry's flavor at some point. It's sad, but it's a part of this journey we call life. And usually B&J have the basic decency to tell you when something is limited edition so you can keep your distance emotionally. Take, for instance, Magic Brownies. You don't think I could have gotten attached to those sweet, dense brownie chunks nestled into black raspberry ice cream? I could have! But it said "Limited Edition" right there on the lid. "You know what this is, Ryan." I thought to myself with each pint.

See? "Limited Batch" Their cards are on the table and nobody gets hurt.

But in the case of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch, those fuckers did NOT play by the rules. First off, this was a staple flavor for years. I was crushing pints of CHBC when Bush was in office. And they didn't just pull it from the shelves. Their betrayal goes much deeper than that. In an effort to reduce the amount of GMOs in their ice cream, B&J decided to stop using "Heath" brand toffee. So, if you go to your local grocery store's ice cream aisle you will be greeted by pint after pint of "coffee toffee bar crunch". 

"So, wait a second, Ryan. All they did was change the toffee from "Heath" brand to their own GMO-free brand? What's the big deal? It's basically the same flavor, right?" -My detractors who haven't yet tasted this SHITTIEST of toffees

It's so bad. My girlfriend insists it tastes metallic and blood-like. I don't know a lot about the toffee business but apparently GMO's are REALLY important for making toffee not taste like you're sucking on a penny you picked up off the floor of a K-mart.

The point is, Coffee Heath Bar Crunch is DEAD. This "Coffee Toffee Bar Crunch" is being held up ala Weekend at Bernie's with Ben and Jerry under each arm, respectively. It's disgusting. They couldn't just get rid of it. They had to desecrate it's corpse. At this point all we can do in the face of this senseless tragedy is come together as a community and try to keep one another from buying this imposter flavor.

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Rain in Manhattan: The End Times

It's been three months since I moved to New York City from Raleigh, North Carolina. There are some aspects of my old life that I've been happy to leave behind. I haven't argued with a seat belt alarm since I've been here. I don't have to worry about putting gas in my car or finding parking. So I guess mostly it's car related stuff. I miss the hell out of everything else.

I've had the pizza here and it was good, like they say. But I found it interesting that you can't go too crazy on pizza toppings. Most places will limit you to three, which is a perfect metaphor for New York. You have to pare down and decide what's really important. Space is limited. Time is short. Options have to be weighed very carefully. 

The impression that New York gives is that it's cutting edge. It's an international city, ahead of the curve culturally. But, in spite of being such a modern city, it's citizens are brought to their knees by a problem older than humanity.

That problem is rain.

When unexpected rain hits Manhattan, in the middle of the day, it's like a minor apocalypse is happening. As the drops begin falling, people start to look around. At first they're looking at other people. They're looking to see if they felt it too. They're holding out hope. "Hey, maybe it was a drip from an air conditioner 10 stories up" they tell themselves. They pray they're ONLY being dripped on by a stranger's appliance. In New York, that's optimism. But once precipitation is confirmed, they start looking around at buildings up and down the streets. At this point they're scanning for shelter. Again, time is limited and they have a choice to make. 

If you're lucky, you'll be on a street where awnings or construction scaffolding are plentiful. Just like a real apocalypse, those with means will fare a little better. They hail a cab and continue towards their destination, in a little bubble of dryness. But I have neither cab money, nor "spontaneous umbrella purchase" money. I'm in the "find shelter and wait it out" income bracket. How do I spend my precious time while hunkered down under protective scaffolding? By enjoying one of my favorite New York City sights.

Sometimes when it's raining you'll see someone who has just given up. Somehow or another they've reached 100% saturation and have nothing left to lose. They're usually ones who didn't stand a chance in the first place. No raincoat, no umbrella, no fucks left to give. They walk at a comfortable pace with their heads up. It's surreal. Almost like you're watching a piece of performance art. This is their only remaining discourse; to give the weather the silent treatment.

Classic Sprinkle Sprint. Note the downward gaze and short, choppy strides for puddle avoidance.

You'll see these poor saps get passed by another group that I call sprinkle sprinters. Let me be clear. I respect the hell out of sprinkle sprinters. They're making due with what they've got; an outfit made of 100% cotton and a dream. A dream that if they run fast enough, no water can touch them. For short distances or light rains, this will actually work alright. Sadly, even if the rain doesn't get you, you WILL be covered in sweat. But, sprinkle sprinters are a proud people who still consider this a form of victory. "Jokes on you, nature. I can soak my own clothes"

No matter who or what you become when the shit goes down, you need to remember one thing. Whether you're a shelter-seeker or sprinkle sprinter, a hopeless sponge person or a fat cat playing angry birds in the back of an Uber, always remember: this will pass. Our society will rebuild and your socks will dry.

So if you're visiting New York claiming you "want to bypass all the touristy stuff" and see the real New York,  don't hope for perfect weather in the same breath. Hypocrisy. You want to feel like a real local? You want to experience real, day-to-day New York life? Get caught in a surprise rain storm. You have concerns? Your cell phone might get liquid damage? That would be SO authentic!

If you're really lucky you'll retreat into the subway only to find that trains aren't running because of a "rail condition". At that point, be ready to choose Jets or Giants because you might as well be a resident. Congratulations on finding an experience that no guided tour could ever give.

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Bad Daze

A bad day for me is so much more internal than external. It's not that I've been dealt a bad hand. It's that I just can't read the cards.

You ever just wake up in a fog? Where the inside of your head feels like the air above Beijing. Your thoughts are stumbling around with surgical masks on, eyes squinted. Where life feels like work and work feels like hell.

I wonder if humans have always had these days. Did ancient hunters wake up in this state thinking "I ain't catching shit today. Today, I'm the first vegan."

Did knights have days where they put their chain mail on backwards? Where they swore someone replaced their sword with a replica 10 lbs heavier?

Did captains of great ships exploring undiscovered lands have days where they just couldn't stop confusing east and west?

I suspect they all did. I suspect phoning it in existed long before phones. But these days don't get recorded in history because nobody feels like writing on these days. The number of blank pages stared at though, are too many to count.

These days you just have to give yourself credit for showing up. Inhale. Exhale. You did it! That's another small victory. You're not gonna change the world, just be content to keep it the same. Maybe you just need a bit more coffee? Don't fall into that trap. Sure, on a good day coffee brings comfort and stimulation. On a bad day it's a brown fluid specifically engineered to burn tongues and stain pants.

But keep putting one foot in front of the other. Remember, it's "foot" not "hand." And remember it's "in front" not, "behind." These are the kinds of obvious reminders a brain will need on a bad day. Lower your expectations. Don't leave the bar up high, where it was set from a prior good day. And don't leave the bar until you've forgotten all about this miserable day. And try not to get too far from the bar before realizing you left your debit card and forgot to close your tab.

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How Underage Drinking Changed My Life

I was something of a late bloomer when it came to alcohol...and sex...and looking older than 12. But for now I'm gonna focus on the alcohol thing. I didn't become a regular drinker until I was 18 years old, during the summer that followed my first year of college.

By the way, how much of a failure is the enforcement of our drinking age when someone starts three years shy of it and sincerely considers themselves to be a "late" bloomer?

The sauce just had no appeal to me in High School. Nobody in my circle of friends was really big into partying. But, I didn't feel restricted by my friends. I genuinely wasn't even that curious to try drinking. Acquiring booze and keeping it a secret from my parents just seemed like more trouble than it was worth. This was also during a time when I was creating an identity for myself as a "healthy guy who works out", something I clung to so tightly during those formative years that it actually became a real part of me. For me, not drinking was an easy way to feel like I was better than my peers who did. This was a time in my life where anything that increased my self-worth was worth hanging on to, no matter how irrational. 

"Oh, you and your friends drink to have fun on the weekends? Not me. I run 5k's on Saturday mornings. What? No, I'm not training for a sport. I just do this because it makes me better. I'm accountable only to myself. How great am I?"

Plus when you're in high school, life is enough of a mystery. I didn't want any of the epiphanies of young adulthood being cock-blocked by an altered perception of reality. I suppose It hadn't yet occurred to me that epiphanies could be found within mind altering substances.

So, I arrived at college a teetotaler. You show me a brand new college freshman who doesn't drink and I'll show you one of the loneliest people on campus. If I had a time machine I would go back to 2007, slap my beardless face and say, "Get off your high horse and drink already. Abstaining doesn't make you better than anybody. Really, it's "not your thing"? You haven't even tried it. What is your "thing?" Watching a grainy, pirated copy of "3:10 to Yuma" alone in your dorm room on a Friday night...SOBER!? That's a pretty miserable "thing"." If I ever have the opportunity to speak to a graduating class of high school students, this will be my message.

But I just didn't want to be a cliche. I didn't want to be yet ANOTHER college kid whose main extra-curricular activity was getting fucked up. To me, centering a whole night around binge drinking was right up there with having a Bob Marley poster on your wall and throwing a Frisbee around an open green space. But, cliches and stereotypes exist for a reason. Bob Marley looks cool with smoke billowing out of his face, tossing around a Frisbee is fun and college students get smashed in social settings because it's a great way to bond with other humans. Every drink sheds a layer of carefully constructed inhibitions that stand between you and an honest connection. It's a useful pharmaceutical tool. If you're cold, you wear a sweater. If it's bright, you put on sunglasses. If you're in an unfamiliar environment, getting to know new people while still struggling to know yourself...you drink alcohol.

I finally began to come around to this idea during the summer following my freshman year. Since then I've observed that booze has a consistent track record of making good times better and loud, crowded bars tolerable. I've never been a big sports fan. When I'm sober, sitting for hours to watch a live sporting event makes no sense. With a few drinks in me, it starts to make a little. I'm glad I finally decided to give alcohol a fair shake. I was late to the party but I showed up with a handle of tequila, ready to catch up.

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More blog coming soon

Some really good stuff is on the way. Enough with all the pressure. Check back soon. When, exactly? I'm not gonna put a hard deadline on it. Just relax.