MY SPIRIT ANIMAL IS A KANGAROO

Kangaroos do not get enough love. Unless maybe you’re in Australia, but I can’t say for sure since I’m not an Aussie and would just be guessing. Is it a love / hate relationship? Is it more of an exotic fantasy relationship, much like we are with the rarely seen squirrel? Just kidding, squirrels are EVERYWHERE! It’d be more of a rarely seen flip phone kind of fascination. Is it an indifferent kind of relationship? I’m so curious how the Asutralians feel about the one of the most Chuck Norris level animals on the planet.

Clearly I may be a little biased, but I think kangaroos are the number one creature that slaps … or is amazing for everyone over the age of 16, myself included. What is not to love? Other than the occasional dog murder as Google so rudely likes to make appear in the first search result. My guess is that those dogs provoked said kangaroo in some way and I’m 15% positive they were either chihuahuas, or a rottweiler. One size extreme or the other. I have to believe the kangaroo didn’t see some random dog and think to itself ‘today is the day, this dog has got to go’. Unless it’s a psychopath, in which case I would need to rethink my whole concept of animal character traits.

Anyways … back to why kangaroos are super chill and I wish they would make good pets. Let’s start with the obvious. A built in snack pouch. Need I say more? Never again worry about forgetting a coat with big enough pockets for the king size candy bar, or your purse. You can always sneak some snacks around when it’s literally attached to you. And big enough to hold a baby ‘roo too so you could fit some dinner leftovers in there probably. Who’s to say? Endless opportunities to reduce, reuse, and recycle.

Some people are not the snacking type. To which I can confidently say I do not understand. We are not the same. But no worries! Listen, if you would rather do things other than eat, totally great. Second phenomenal trait – power propulsion. I mean, we’ve all been late to something at some point probably. Imagine if your car had a fifth wheel injected with some nitrous to make acceleration easy peasy. Or, if you were running, probably because a bear is chasing you, why else would you be running, and you had a tail that could propel you forward faster, and more efficiently than your legs? You would beat the bear for sure. For sure is probably a bit strong, but you would have a chance.

Those two reasons enough are why I feel a strong spiritual connection with the kangaroo. But alas, not everyone is satisfied so let’s keep going rapid fire style. They’re the closest living relative to the T-Rex. Zero part of that is factual, but look at them. Big legs and tiny arms it just makes sense. Apparently most of them are left handed, which is rare in humans but that means that us right handed pleebs would be the cool unique exceptions among them. A group of them is called a mob and if that alone isn’t intimidating watch me run with my tail pogo stick. Or watch me balance on it while I round kick you in the face – your choice.

It also brings me great joy to know that their children are called joeys. They were gender neutral before it was cool. Joey just also sounds a bit more like the cool kid on the playground than child does. All around, it sounds more fun than child. Child is just so … corporate … while joey is the startup. In a shocking twist, they are also good swimmers so it brings me peace to know that Michael Phelps’ spirit animal is probably also the kangaroo. One of the kangaroo species is the Wallaby and my most comfortable pair of shoes is also the Wallabee. Coincidence? I think not. No other soles are as springy.

Above all these fun kangaroo knowledge bombs, they’re also just super adorable. Up top, they look like rabbits, but down under? Tyrannosaurus rex! Like the mullet of the animal kingdom, if you will. Clearly a progressive species who doesn’t have time to deal with others. Unless forced to do so as in the unfortunate dog scenario. Let them live and they’ll be chill. Unlike say, the hornet who will seek you out just for kicks and giggles. And yet what mascot gets used more?! Clearly the more evil of the two.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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MY MOM THINKS I’M A HOE BECAUSE I MET SOMEONE ONLINE

The older I get, the more aware I am of all the social stigmas that exist in society. And there’s a lot of them. A lot a lot. An unnecessary amount of things that other people use as some sort of basis for judging your life. You know what I’m talking about, right? By what age you should be married. How old is too old to have children. What is an acceptable job coming out of college. What is an unacceptable job coming out of college. The amount of drinks you should consume at once, and in a week. How often you should use the microwave to make a meal. The list goes on and on.

It seems to me, that one of the biggest categories for these stigmas is the dating world. Especially in today’s society where we have these fun little things known as dating apps. Not all of them are winners, but there are definitely options for everyone. And I do mean everyone. Yet, as with pretty much all things in life, people feel a certain type of way depending on what name you drop when asked how you met your current significant others.

I also think people like to assume that using dating apps means you’re hindered in the personality department. Since meeting someone casually in a random bar and striking up a conversation and falling in love isn’t overly common today. Because we have smartphones. And, thus, no longer have a need to talk to strangers at a bar. We wait for our friends to arrive. Or, more accurately, we play on our phones until we finish our drink and then leave. I don’t know a single person who would go out and just willingly approach other social groups to introduce themselves with zero reason other than to hopefully make a new friend.

Enter technology. You know I love technology. I’m a millennial – technology is practically my middle name, after all. The best thing about technology is that now you no longer have to be socially awkward and approach strangers unless you’re simply that extroverted. But if you’re that extroverted, chances are you’re there to meet your friends anyways. And approaching other groups of people when you are in a group of people is exponentially easier. So, basically, you can meet other humans on your terms and not feel like you’re intruding on a private conversation. How fun!

In this new age, you match with someone, then decide if you like them enough to meet them in person and actually talk to them. If you don’t want to do that, you don’t have to. You no longer have to sit through a dead end conversation with someone who only talks about themselves. Or who only knows how to answer questions with one word. Or who could not be less interested in learning anything about you. Anything at all. Not that dating apps eliminate bad dates, but at least you get some sort of a chance to weed out the duds beforehand.

Anywho, assuming you and your match are super compatible, and you actually like each other *gasp*, then you start going down a more involved path. Whatever that looks like to you. Dating, a relationship, friends with benefits, talking to them once a week … I don’t know you, but I know you know what I mean. If it goes a route where you talk about them to your friends and family, well then they always want to know how you met. Enter our friend, the dating app stigma.

Not all dating apps are created equal. Not all dating apps attract the same types of people. Not all dating apps typically end a date in the same way. Ergo, the stigma around the names. So if you fall in love on Tinder, that’s fantastic! Just know that chances are higher that people will question the long-term validity of your relationship. Much how we question how real the engagements are on the Bachelor and Bachelorette. If, however, you fall in love on eHarmony, more than likely people will be expecting wedding invites at some point in the future.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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POLLEN IS MY LEAST FAVORITE CAR COLOR

In case you haven’t noticed that the outdoors have been a little more colorful recently, or if you live in a pineapple under the sea, or if you’re allergic to looking out a window – it’s pollen season. The worst of all the seasons. In the midst of the blooming flowers, warmer weather, and upcoming vacations, we have to deal with the cockroach of the spring. A yellow cloud of inevitable allergies. One of the quickest ways to change the color of your car, your outfit, and anything left outside. Pollen. Ugh.

Does anyone like the pollen? Sure, it gives us the beautiful flowers and I guess the bees like to frolic in it, but other than that … it’s kind of the worst. You don’t even have to step outside to see how invasive it is. Just look through the blinds and you can see it everywhere. Everywhere! In the air. On the trees. On the patio furniture. On the cars. On the sidewalk. On people. On pets. On water. In your house. Nothing is safe. You aren’t safe. Your favorite animals aren’t safe. Your things aren’t safe. It is the devil of nature.

Apart from being in all the places, all of the time, for weeks, nothing makes me feel like a smoker than being outside in the pollen storm. Even with our fashionable COVID masks it still somehow gets into my mouth, nose, and throat until I start hacking. Want to run outside in the first traces of warm weather since last year? Good luck not breathing. Oh, you want to stroll through the trails with your dog for some Vitamin D? Be prepared to spend the next several hours hiding so you can cough in peace without fear of being ostracized by all humans for the next 14 days. Trying to relax on your porch after work with some beverages? Enjoy your gin and pollen.

That alone is annoying. Pollen tastes like dirt. It’s not delicious on any spectrum. But that’s just one of the annoying parts. Can we talk about the color of pollen for a second? Is it yellow? Is it green? It’s color neutral, I guess. It wants to be both, although, in neither case is it a beautiful version of the chosen color. It’s a dull yellow and a putrid green. Put that together and it for sure doesn’t equal something I’d like to paint my walls with. Especially when it pools up on some gross, days old, puddle. Then it’s part blue and at that point I’m not even 100% sure it isn’t toxic.

So we have this … what is it even? Powdery substance according to the Wikipedia. Which could mean so many different things. A candy choice. Adult or child. Legal or illegal. Some sort of cleaning product. An ingredient for cooking. Dirt. I mean the options are endless. Anyways, so we have this powdery substance of an undesirable color. And where would you like to see something undesirable end up? Not on your car! It’s even worse than when a bird makes an appearance on your car too because no matter how often you wash it, it never leaves. The bad kind of persistence.

Regardless what color car you drive, during pollen season you drive an off yellow-green mess. And that color pairs well with none of the available colors known to man. Blue car, gray car, white car, green car, black car, etc. It looks bad. Maybe only the yellow cars can pull it off, but who is still driving yellow cars? Unless it’s a Corvette, that is the one kind of acceptable car to be in yellow. But alas, how many of us are driving yellow Corvettes? Even then, the green tint in everyone’s spring enemy throws it off. 

The worst part is that, unlike a nice powdery snow, it doesn’t blow off when you drive. It also doesn’t easily coat your car evenly and it certainly does not provide some semblance of cleaning when coming off. No. It’s splotchy. It’s streaky. It’s permanent. It’s somehow wind resistant. It makes no sense. If the bees love it so much why don’t they just hoard all of it in their hives? Save us. And just when you think you can’t take anymore pollen, it disappears overnight. Here one day, gone the next. I clearly don’t get nature.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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HULU’S COMMERCIAL ALGORITHM: THE ULTIMATE TROLL

Hulu has crashed onto the streaming services scene and has really been making waves. Offering a live TV option. Giving you the fastest access to current seasons. Beginning to rival Netflix’s quality and quantity with their Hulu Originals. Having one of the best color schemes in television apps. Green is honestly superior to red. It’s the color of money for one. And half of the Christmas color scheme. Supposedly, according to my BIF (best Internet friend) Google, our minds associate it with life, nature, energy, growth, freshness, safety, and ambition, among other things.

Despite all the good things going it’s way, though, Hulu has a dark side. Some might think that’s their default advertisement tier. Those people would be partially right. I mean, sure, there is the option to pay for Hulu with no ads. But who has that kind of frivolous spending in their budget? It’s twice as much. And then I would lose my built in bathroom, and snack, breaks. In other words, for more of my money, I would physically have to pick up the remote to pause what I was watching to take a break. That feels backwards. A little unfair, honestly. Thus, I am but a Hulu peasant living with their commercial breaks.

Side tangent aside, the commercial breaks are a necessary evil in my current lifestyle. If you’re living the 1% life and don’t have the basic plan, then you may not be able to relate to the one major downside to Hulu. Which, of course, is their commercial algorithm troll. During my PH years – that’s pre-Hulu in case it was unclear – I thought I was kind of an average, normal-ish millennial. Sure I had my quirks, but overall believed I was in the same general range as my peers. From a lifestyle and preferences standpoint.

However, after leveling up to multiple streaming services and adding the big green H to my TV apps, I’ve realized that I am both a middle aged soccer mom and a lonely college student. I am neither a mom, nor am I middle aged, nor am I lonely, nor am I a college student. At least, I didn’t think I was. Enter Hubert the Hulu Troll. In my mind this algorithm is an angry old man, so I figured Hubert best fit that analogy. Hubert made me realize that I’ve basically been living in some weird dream as a mid-twenties millennial. 

I’m no algorithm expert, but I know that at a basic level it takes your viewing preferences and suggests commercials based on what category it thinks you fall into. Oh, and obviously your smart TV, and any other devices with your Hulu app, listens to your conversations and throws out commercials based on your conversations. So it takes the data it has, steals data from private conversations and stereotypes you. How fun is that?! 

If it feels a bit creepy, that’s because it is. I’ve been talking about adopting a new puppy since the fall. Simply talking. And texting. With my friends and family. On my phone. Which doesn’t have the Hulu app. Yet, guess who keeps getting Petfinder and Hill’s Pet Nutrition commercials? Correct, yours truly. Although, if we’re being honest, it could have been a much worse topic for them to take from my non Hulu related activity, so I guess there’s a silver lining. I get to see adorable dogs on my commercial breaks. On the flip side, though, it also thinks that I have children. I get a disturbing amount of Pull-Ups, minivan, and Hornitos tequila commercials. If Hulu is listening, please just send me more puppies.

Like all good technology, it doesn’t always get it right. Occasionally I get commercials for Meow Mix and I know you don’t know me, but I’m not a cat person. I don’t own a cat. I won’t own a cat. Stop trying to sell me on the impossible. I also find it funny when I get whiskey commercials since I hate whiskey. And all of my private conversations would indicate that. Maybe my significant other is whispering sweet nothings in Hubert’s ear to try and get me on the brown liquor train. But I will stand strong. 

My favorite part about Hubert, is that for a while I naively believed it was just random placements of ads to the highest bidder. Then my siblings, one who is in college and one who just graduated from college, informed me that they got Trojan, Tinder, and Tito’s commercials. At which point I realized that Hubert genuinely believes that I’ve outgrown my youth. I have not received a single commercial for any of those products. And I love a good moscow mule so what’s up with that?!

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME: THAT’S A NO FROM ME

Oh, look. Another daylight savings time has come and confused our biological clocks like the demon it is. Why are we still observing this not once, but twice a year? What purpose is it serving? Does it boost the economy? Is it a way to keep the calendar in sync? I would like answers from whoever controls this. Who does control it? Father time? Mother nature? Please tell me it’s not the government. Regardless, it needs to go.

If this happened once a year, it would still be annoying. On the scale of which version is better, spring or fall, that clearly goes to the fall option. I have yet to meet anyone who gets excited to lose an hour of their lives every spring. Time goes fast enough, I don’t need some arbitrary time rule eliminating an hour every year. Thus why the fall is preferable, since I gain that lost hour back. Although, if we’re being honest, that hour would be more useful to me during the summer vacation season instead of during winter.

Let’s break down why this is the worst, and then argue to send it back into the fiery pits of the south where I feel confident it originated. Spring forward. What? Why? It’s 1:59AM going on 3AM. How absolutely exhilarating. Especially since it happens overnight. You go to sleep. Life is normal. Time makes sense. You understand when to wake up and when to sleep. Life is good. Then, BAM! Time change! And all of a sudden you are late to all of your Sunday activities. Your phone says it’s one time, but all your other dumb household appliances say something different. It’s so stressful.

And what if you forget to change all of the possible places that display the time in any sort of fashion? Well, first of all, everything does not need a clock. I would like to throw that out into the innovation universe cloud. If you decide that what you’re building is going to display time, then you better make sure it knows how to sync with the actual time as well. I’m over trying to adjust my microwave clock like I live in the 20th century. I literally don’t have the time. I’ve lost an entire hour.

Circling back, what if a clock is off? Well, in my experience, the clock I usually forget about lives in my car. Which is truly just unfortunate. Am I late? Am I early? I left the house on time, or so I thought. The amount of times I second guess my decision about when to leave in the days following a time shift is astronomical. Usually for the first half of the ensuing week I’m late for every meeting on my calendar. How I still have a job, you and I both wonder. 

In other musings, why is it always a Sunday? A Friday night going into Saturday would allow for more adjustment time. I never know when to go to bed on the night of the incident. My phone says bedtime, but my body says binge time and that is an internal struggle I still haven’t figured out how to resolve. Meanwhile, who has a Saturday night bedtime? It’s more of a fall asleep when you fall asleep kind of vibe. Or if some external circumstances cause you to lose consciousness. No judgement. 

You might be thinking, yes springing forward is my least favorite form of exercise, but then we get to fall back in just a few months. Well I’m here to say that I enjoy falling back as much as I enjoy trust fall exercises. Which is not at all. Do I trust a stranger to catch me? Absolutely not! What if they feel their phone vibrate and are waiting for a text back from their crush? If that was me, I’d sneak a glance for sure. Anyways … falling back is more confusing. Your bedtime syncs up with your grandparents momentarily. And then you’re awake before sunrise and everything is dark and you aren’t sure if you’ve been abducted and sent to Alaska or not.

My last feeling about this, not final though, just going for a somewhat concise post, has to do with our poor animals. Whom we adore. Maybe not all animals, but definitely our dogs. They too don’t know what to do with daylight savings time. Think about it, their internal clocks are synced with the actual daylight – not just the concept of day versus night as presented to us in the form of four numbers separated by a colon. Or Google it, some very smart, scientific, people have researched this extensively while I have merely thought about it for a few moments. 

Mmkay, so overall emotion towards this ritual is not great. I would propose solutions, but there’s only one thing I would like to do with it. Make it disappear. Send it the depths of the ocean where those creatures have never seen daylight once. Fly it into outer space, I think time is relative out there anyways. I don’t care. Just take it away from me. Arizona and Hawaii are looking like excellent options for my next place of residence. 

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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RANKING MONTHS OF THE YEAR

Few things bring me more joy than taking something arbitrary, that almost everyone is aware of or deals with, and forcing my opinion onto it. Like the best kind of Oreos, for example. Or the best kind of subjects in school – there is but one right answer here and that, of course, is PE. Or what the best kind of animals to have as pets are – also only one right answer, that being a dog. You know, stuff like that where my opinion is not a fact, nor should it be. 

Coming off the holiday season and right into winter depression season, I thought it would be fitting to reflect on how I rank months of the year. You can probably guess, but I don’t think they are all equal! Not even close, in fact, I believe there are a handful of exciting and fantastic months and the rest are just there for build-up. Like a filler, so to speak. Think of a countdown clock. The fluff months are the countdown clock and the actual epitome of months are what you’re counting down to. In a loose analogy anyways.

Before getting started, there are a few things that I want to acknowledge so you, my readers, can get a somewhat better understanding of why this ranking is the way it is. First, I live in the northern hemisphere so I start each new year in winter. I’m a Christian and celebrate Christmas. I live in America so we celebrate 4th of July and Thanksgiving in November. I live in the southern part of America where we get temps similar to what I can only imagine to be the devil’s armpit during summer. Winter is my favorite season. And yea, I believe that’s all the crucial pieces of background information necessary here. 

Alright, let’s break down the best, and the worst, months of the year! According to me. The Restless Professional. You may feel differently and I guess that’s fine. You do you. I’m doing me. As a quick calendar lesson, there are 12 months in the year and I will be providing all 12 in this ranking (in case you were curious if there was one so bad I wouldn’t even grace my blog with it).

Show Me The Month(ey) Ranking

  1. December
  2. March
  3. May
  4. October
  5. November
  6. April
  7. July
  8. June
  9. September
  10. February
  11. August
  12. January

Obviously self-explanatory, right? No? Shocking that you can’t read my mind, but can so easily read my ranking. Here’s the quick and dirty version of it since neither of us have all day. December is THE holiday month. Kind of like Ohio State is THE Ohio State. Fun, family, and food. My 3 favorite f’s. March is a sports fan’s dream with March Madness keeping things interesting. May is spring and there’s Memorial Day which officially kicks off summer. Plus, Mother’s Day and who doesn’t love their mother? October and November are building up to December so bonus points there, but also we have the beautiful union of football season and basketball season. April is the beginning of spring and usually contains Easter / Spring Break. July and June are getting towards unbearable heat, but it’s still manageable to be outside and summer vacay season is firing on all cylinders. Bonus points for the 4th in July, thus it being above June who is just June. September is honestly so hot and disgusting. Sure, there’s Labor Day but that means that summer is over and the heat is not so who’s really winning? February is quick, which is why it isn’t last, but Valentine’s Day is a thing that I’m not here for. August is the most OVERRATED MONTH since it’s a build-up to work, school, and suffocating heat. Finally, January – the most disappointing month. Coming off a slew of massive holidays into a new year and gray skies. And then it lasts forever. It’s easily the longest month of the year somehow and always has five ish grueling weeks. Bleh.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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