New Year's Resolutions for 2018

Making New Year's resolutions is important. It's a great way to get in order what is important in your life, and reflect on ways you can improve. As I found out in 2009, dismissing your resolutions is a good way to ruin a year. I like to think about New Year's resolutions as guideposts, or helpful reminders of where I want to be. They shouldn't be a test or impossible challenge. They are goals, able to be met.

Here are my 2018 New Year's resolutions, listed roughly in order from least important to most important, in the general scope of things.

Various music resolutions

My music goals are the most frivolous resolutions for my year, but they are probably the resolutions I will take most seriously. There are many sub-resolutions in this category.

1) My iPod is great, but the worst part about it is that it doesn't automatically adjust volumes on songs. That means that, inevitably, when I have a playlist going at a party, certain songs are really quiet, but you can't turn the iPod up too much at that point, because then the next song is going to be really loud. Fixing the volume on a song is easy—you just right click the song on the computer, and go to Options, and the volume adjuster is there. Fixing the volume on thousands of songs, though? That's going to be a tedious project, but one that I want to complete by the end of the year.

2) I want to really tighten up my iPod a bit this year. There are plenty of albums on there that I actively dislike and would like to get rid of. Deleting music is has been practically sacrilege up to this point, and sure, I'm going to have strict protocols as far as what gets deleted, but I'm going to try to get to the point when I can put my iPod on shuffle and enjoy 99% of what pops up (I'm probably at 90% now). I currently have 12,500 songs on my iPod exactly. After all the new music I'll be adding this year, I still want to delete enough to have no more than 14,000 songs by the year's end. Very doable.

3) Here's the big one: For the last few years, I've listened to pretty much nothing besides albums that came out that year. For the past twelve months, the only music I've added to my iPod was music that was released in 2017. In 2018, I'm going to calm down with all that shit. I'm still going to listen to new music, obviously, but I'm going to focus more on older music. I want to fill in gaps in my musical experience.

I already made a list of around 60 classic albums that I'm going to dive into next year. These albums probably fall into one of two categories. The first type are albums from artists that I already love, but older albums that fell through the cracks, and I have never listened to. E.g., Bright Eyes' Lifted..., the Mountain Goats' Life of the World to Come, the Rolling Stones' Aftermath, etc. The second type are albums from artists I've never listened to seriously, but probably should, as they are part of the classic rock canon. E.g., George Harrison's All Things Must Pass, Paul Simon's Graceland, The Stooges' Funhouse, etc.

So I imagine my year will be roughly divided equally between albums that come out in 2018 and albums that did not come out in 2018. I'm really excited to get back into exploring music's back catalogues.

4) I don't foresee changing my listening habits in terms of quantity this year, even with a baby on the way. I listen to most of my music on the way to work, at work, and coming home from work, and I will still have the same job next year, baby or no. So it's worth writing, even though it's not different than 2017: My goal should be around 3-4 albums uploaded to my iPod weekly. That equated to becoming familiar with about 170 new albums this year, and that will probably be what I shoot for next year as well, unless anything major changes in my life.

Though... I was inspired by Vince Staples, a rapper whom I do not listen to, but whom seems eloquent both in music and in speech: "With the internet, everyone's so knowledgeable, everyone knows so much about music, everybody got a top five. But a lot of people don't really digest the music and just be personal with it." He's right. I burned through a lot of music this year, and there was a lot that I didn't give its proper due. I want to be less strict with how much music I consume this year. If I need more time to digest, for instance, an old Peter Gabriel album, then I'm gonna put everything else on the back-burner, and make sure I get the gist of the thing I'm listening to now (not the thing I'm listening to next).

So we'll see.

Run 730 miles

As reported the other day, I ran about 350 miles in 2017. Let's double that. I want to run an average of two miles a day. Two miles is fucking nothing; it's the doing-it-every-day part that's going to be tough. Note, however, that my resolution is run two miles/day on average, so look for me to be trying to juke the numbers early in the year, before the baby comes. Even when the baby is here, though, I'll still have time during my lunch break at work to go for a three-miler when I need to (or, when I'm not sound asleep at my desk).

No jerking off.

No need to elaborate.

Various financial resolutions

1) I want to save all my paper receipts this year. This isn't in reaction to, like, being burned recently or anything. I dunno, I've just been anxious lately about not being as careful with my finances as I used to be. This will be the first step.

2) I'm only going to allow myself to order out for breakfast or lunch ONCE a month. Again, see my previous post; eating at Wawa 85 times in one year is fucking unacceptable. I'll give myself one day every four weeks to order out, and I know there's going to be occasions when my coworkers are buying pizza or sandwiches as a group to celebrate something (usually also about once a month), but other than that, I'm going to pack a lunch every fucking day, and either pack a breakfast too or eat before leaving for work. Sell your Wawa stock now, boys and girls, because it's gonna be plummeting soon.

3) I want to be serious about week-to-week budgeting this year, and I want Pam to be my partner in this goal. Every newly expecting parent questions him/herself at some point: "How the FUCK are we going to afford all this?" I want to budget our finances and stop having to ask myself that question.

Figure out political goals

The fact that I don't want to write about the state of our country right now is a problem unto itself. I shouldn't be this depressed about America. It's one thing to be sad about it. It's another thing to take action and try to fix this as best as one single private citizen can. I need to figure this year where my place is in this country when it comes to politics. Obviously, I'm liberal, that's not what I'm saying. I guess... I just need to find more tangible ways to help the cause. The midterm elections are at the end of 2018, so I plan on doing some door-to-door canvassing for the local D nominees. I plan on educating myself with FACTS and LOGIC, as always. I plan on budgeting some money toward worthy causes. I just need to feel useful in the resistance. Blogging the words "fuck trump" is no longer enough.

Start making some home videos

I asked for a very "Dad gift" for Christmas, a video camcorder. It's nothing fancy, just a lightweight little thing that takes two hours of video at a time, and connects to a computer. I've always loved watching family home movies, and I want to be able to give that same experience to my kids when they are older. I want to start documenting some moments in our lives and make some home movies. Since as long as I can remember, I've always told myself, "when I start having kids, I'm gonna get a camcorder just like my Dad." Whelp, it's time. Get ready, folks.

Be responsible about drinking

Thought you could get through a whole PoYB blog post without hearing me bitch about my sobriety? Think again!! Let's be real though: I've made big strides here in the final quarter of 2017. I haven't had a sip of alcohol in 97 days. That's big. And let's be real again: that streak is probably going to end sometime in 2018. I don't want to be sober for another 365 days.

However, I also do not, under any circumstances, want it to just go back to business as usual. This whole sobriety thing has to serve some fucking purpose, ya know? What I hope, and what I am striving toward in 2018, is that when I finally do fall off the wagon, that it will be slowly. The first time I get drunk in 2018, I want it to be just being tipsy. And there's going to be times maybe that it goes beyond tipsy, and that will be okay too in certain circumstances!

But I can't get like how I used to get—blackout, sloppy, a shitty husband and a shitty friend. I just can't. And I won't. I just have to be careful is all. I have confidence that I will be able to meet that challenge and succeed, just like I met the challenge of total sobriety and have so far succeeded.

Continue to cultivate my marriage

2017 was a year of ups and downs for me and Pammy, as I have annoyingly, vaguely alluded to here on this blog more than a few times. But ya know what? Those "downs"? Ultimately, we came out on top. We're in a great place now. No one said marriage was easy, but the hard work is worth it. I love Pam. I want to keep doing what we're doing in 2018, keep that love strong.

Be the best dad I can be

Holy christ, I'm gonna be a dad this time next year. I have no idea what to write in this paragraph. What does it mean to be a "good dad"? Am I going to have to find out when it happens? I am, ain't I? Whelp, let's do this shit, folks. I'm ready. 2018 is going to be a great fucking year. I'm ready to be a dad.

2017 in Review: Best of What I Wrote This Year

This is an incredibly self-congratulatory post lacking any sort of humility. I apologize in advance!

The Best of What Joe Wrote This Year, According to Joe

I had a discussion with a "psychic," transcribed her words, and felt... a little underwhelmed.

Psychic: And, um, it’s gonna be very good, that’s one of the doors that’s going to lead to other doors that’s going to happen, um, I’m going to say, within years to come. But this move that you’re meant to make because of your career. Ya know? And I know you said that you, ya know, you’ll be moving in twenty years, but, that’s not what your destiny says, and it’s the reason for it is because it’s a good move. But, your wife is definitely on her right path. She, she’s a very strong woman. She’s very strong. She, she’s the one with the positive energy, I do see that. And she’s trying to give that to you, but nobody can, ya know, just take it like that, it has to be built. But other than that there is a lotta light around you when it comes to your future. Finances is gonna change. You’re not going to stay where you’re at in this level, you are going to, in 2018, that’s when it gets better. Because of a different position, when it comes to the medical field. 

Joe: Okay.

Read the rest HERE.

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Puke on Your Birthday roared back to life with a reflection on the first time I was ever "arrested."

Protocol, of course, is to fucking run. Just get the fuck out of there. No one thought that the police were taking it THAT seriously. Like, it's not like we'd run to the edge of the woods and there'd be barricades or something. Just run, get away from the police, probably meet up at Wawa and breathe a sigh of relief. 

So that's what I did. I ran up the hill toward the street. I then realized with a flash that I had forgotten my hoodie, so I turned on a dime and ran back down the hill to retrieve that shit. It was dark, and recall that the beer was almost gone, so between my inebriation and probably some nerves from getting spooked by the Finest, I took a nasty tumble over a fallen tree branch, tripping headfirst right into the goddamn firepit itself. No injuries - when you're eighteen-years-old and nine Lionsheads deep, nothing hurts - but I was shaken a bit. Good friend Kev and a few friends of his were suicidally still drinking Lionsheads at our spot, police lights be damned. They were not following protocol. And since peer pressure is a thing, instead of running again up the hill, I chose to pop open another beer with them.

Read the rest HERE.

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I wrote about trying to find balance in my life between being healthy and being a drunk load. Obviously, that quest was a bit rockier than I had anticipated. (WOW this really reads ironically, six months later...)

I mean, I could stop drinking, right? That’s a good way to lose some weight and become healthier. And since I’m not an alcoholic (as far as I know), I could definitely stop drinking, and have for short-to-moderate time periods in the past! But at what cost? What happens to my friendships when I can’t partake in the nighttime revelry? What happens to my marriage when all we want to do is unwind on a Friday with a beer on the deck, and all I can do is sit there stoically with tap water?

Read the rest HERE.

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I wrote about the year's best song...

Adam Granduciel's lyrics are usually too obtuse for me to figure out. I'm sitting here even now trying to make heads or tails of "In Chains," and what Granduciel is trying to tell me. In many ways, though, maybe I don't need the lyrics to get the message. "In Chains" is the year's best song by a mile, and it's the year's most emotional, most powerful, most heart-wrenching.

...and the year's best album.

Maybe I'm reading into it too much. Maybe I'm just reaching for meaning in an album of rock tunes that aren't supposed to be analyzed on a micro level. But fuck it. During my low points, Sleep Well Beast was there for me in empathy. I listened to this album and I fucking felt this album like no other album throughout the year.

Read about the rest of the songs HERE and the rest of the albums HERE.

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My rant against Wawa turned into a rant again Northeast Philadelphia.

But Wawa gets a free pass from the NEast mouthbreathers. 

Why? The more I think about this, the more it pisses me off. Where were these protestors when Wawa was being built on the corner? Fucking nowhere to be found. 

I hate the holier-than-thou attitude of the NEast neighborhoods, like anything that dare challenge their point of view should be fought against by tooth and nail. 

You know what? I’m going to go deeper than that. I think the true reason that these Lawndale residents don’t want a Royal Farms in their neighborhood is that they are fucking racist.

Read the rest HERE.

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I waxed poetic about the best cheesesteaks in Philadelphia, since no one else has ever written anything about cheesesteaks in Philadelphia.

At this point, let me again stress that even the worst of the cheesesteaks on this list are tasty and I would gladly eat any one of them at the drop of a hat. But if we’re comparing, it’s worth nitpicking, and of all the sandwiches on this list, I have the most complaints about Steve’s, however insignificant. But when you saw me at age 22, drunk on the Boulevard, eating a Steve’s steak (while trying to hide from the employees that an even drunker friend just punched out their screen window), you didn’t hear me complaining, believe you me.

Read the rest HERE.

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On Facebook, I tried to make a plan for trump.

Read it HERE as well, just in case you can't zoom in enough on blogspot.

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I started to write about quiche but ended up writing about missing my old job from high school.

The message is pretty clear. I mean, I received the message loud and clear when I was 23 years old and the oldest waiter there by a couple years. My life at the Laf couldn’t last forever. To stay invested in a job like that would be a futile attempt at prolonging adolescence. It was time to grow up. 

As the years go by, I let go little by little, and for the most part by this point I’ve let go completely, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get choked up a little bit when I think back upon those halcyon days.

Read the rest HERE.

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I reflected on my old nemesis and old grudges.

I've held this grudge for so long that at this point it's honestly kind of pathetic. Like, I don't know where this dude is currently. I haven't heard anyone talk about him for years. I've been to a few homecomings since graduation, and I don't think he was there. If he was, I ignored him completely. Last I had heard, he might be in Michigan or something? He's been blocked on Facebook since 2008, so I have no way of knowing. 

I've been thinking over the past few days what I would do if I ran into him on the street today. How I would react.

Read the rest HERE.

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I thought about college a lot, even though as the years go on I feel more and more pathetic doing so.

College for me meant moving 20 minutes away from my hometown. It meant going to school with at least 40 familiar faces from my neighborhood, at least a dozen of whom I counted as close friends at the time. It meant every comfort afforded to me in my middle-class upbringing was still intact, there was just an illusion of change. 

That’s not to say anything negative about moving to college. It’s just me thinking back to the Fall of 2007 and rolling my eyes instead of tearing up. 

Moving from Rockledge to 20th and Olney changed nothing about me. I was the same little shit I had always been. Living four years at 20th and Olney? That was the experience that changed me. For the ten-year anniversary today, I’m not celebrating move-in day being life changing, but I’m celebrating the beginning of that journey.

Read the rest HERE.

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I missed my grandpop.

The last couple years of Grandpop's life were difficult, mainly for his family. It's tough to see someone wither away, physically and mentally, especially when it's someone you love so damn dearly. I could see it on my Dad's face whenever he would visit Grandpop, how Grandpop's condition took a toll on him and his siblings. You tell yourself this is how life is, you tell yourself that this isn't abnormal, but still, you feel sad and you feel angry and you feel powerless because there's literally nothing you can do but just be there and hang on tight and just fucking be there.

Read the rest HERE.

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And finally, I wrote about my wedding day in honor of our three-year anniversary.

“Light a Roman Candle with Me” was playing, and we stood arm in arm, connected as one, slowly spinning around the room. As the song’s tempo picked up, so did we, until it became a two-person dance party. Surrounded by everyone we loved in life, we had said “I do” and became a family. Our wedding was an amazing moment in our lives, and on days like today it’s nice to look back and to celebrate what a fun time it all was. But it was just one day. Everything that came in the four years prior to it and everything that’s happened since and everything still to come, it’s all part of the story. I wanna grow old with Pam. I love her so goddamn much my heart feels like it’s gonna burst sometimes. I’m glad we got married. I’m glad we kissed at the Masque Formal. I’m glad I have her in my life.

Read the rest HERE.

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2017 in Review: The Year in Stats

Starting on 1/1/17, I started to keep a running log of everything I did each day. I didn't go into too much detail, like I didn't write down literally every single thing I did. But I kept a list on my phone, and at the end of every day, I was type out the day's activities.

An example of an entry, picked randomly: "4/18 - woke up at 5 to do dishes and finish laundry, walked to work, slow morning, walked spring garden at lunch, got pretzel for homeless guy, stole salad dressings too, didn't get any major calls in the afternoon, read The Stand, left at 4:25, septa home, chilled with Pam, she left for work and I went to the gym, came home, listened to a couple Phillies innings, ate kielbasa on bread, showered, better call Saul, bed at 9:30."

First—yes! I have a very exciting life! Thank you!! Second, what was the purpose of this? Why did I need to be able to look back and see that, yes, I did watch Better Call Saul on April 18th? I wasn't sure at the time, and I'm still not sure now. But it was just something I did, okay? So I might as well put it to use.

Since I did this every day for the past 360 days, I figured I might as well tally some statistics from the year for your reading enjoyment.

Like I said, each day's entry wasn't super detailed, so there were only so many things I could count up, going through the logs. You won't find a stat, for example, of how many times I showered in 2017, because that wasn't a relevant enough activity to be included in most entries. But certain things were noted time and again, and I was able to count them up and get an overall picture about how I spent my time day-to-day.

Let's examine the minutia of my 2017.

Days when I took SEPTA—95 (26.38%)

Days when I rode my bike—114 (31.66%)

This is a snapshot of pretty much the only thing I do to try to reduce my carbon footprint. Pam and I are a One-Car Family, so I usually end up finding other ways to get around on a daily basis. Despite buying a bike three months into the year, I still rode my bike on almost one-third of the days of the year. I'm proud of the fact that I spent so much time on my bike or on a bus. I want to keep living like this.

Bike flats—4

Here's really the only downside I can think of regarding bike-riding. It's a little unavoidable though. The route I take to and from work every day is littered with broken glass. That's never going to change. The bike I chose is lightweight and quick, but that also means that the tires are more susceptible to popping. So be it.

Taxi rides—9

Uber/Lyft rides—40

I probably only paid for half of these rides (some were group rides with people who didn't ask to split, some were Pam's treat because she would rather pay for a car ride than ride SEPTA, a couple were taxis in whose machine my card didn't work and the taxi driver basically said fuck it and kicked me out). But even if I did pay for half of them, this is still too many. True, our Lyft habits basically dried up when we stopped drinking and were able to sober drive everywhere, but even if and when I do get tipsy with my wife in 2018, I'd like to avoid these car services as much as possible. They don't make me feel good about myself.

Total runs—109

Runs for MBR—75

Runs on personal time—34

If we estimate that my average mileage per run was about 3.25, then I ran about 350 miles this year. That's a decent amount, but it's definitely lower than the past few years. After every single run, I was happy that I ran. I never feel shitty after a run, it's just that I always feel shitty before a run. It's tough to get motivated. Monday Beer Runners definitely helped, obviously. Three quarters of my runs this year were with that scrappy little run group. Unfortunately, the final MBR run is tonight, so I won't have the luxury of weekly group runs with friends next year. The time for motivation is now.

Trips to the gym—24

Oh yeah, there was also a little bit of time spent at the gym. Pathetic. I don't even want to think about how much money I spent on gyms this year, but I'm going to force myself to do so now. First, my membership to Planet Fitness. I switched in April from the $20/month membership to the $10/month membership, so that was $150 in membership fees, plus the $40 annual fee.

I also got totally ripped off at another gym. I should've seen the scam coming. About a block away from my place of employment, a new gym opened in the Spring, and they were offering memberships for $5/month, which was absurd. My plan was to start going to that gym before or after work daily. I did this once, and realized that the gym was kind of shitty, and that I would not be properly motivated to go daily. My contract indicated I could get a full refund in the first 30 days, so I asked for one. And I kept asking for one. I probably went to the gym 20 times, and they kept stringing me along, saying that it is "still processing." The day I decided to start threatening them with a lawyer, I get there, and the gym is gone. Disappeared. I have to think that the whole thing was a fucking scam, because the sign-up fee that I was trying to get refunded was 75 goddamn dollars. They probably took as many suckers as they could for $75 and got the fuck out of dodge.

So anyway, That's $265 I spent on gyms this year, for an average of $11.04 per visit. I am an idiot.

Times I ate pizza—70

Times I ate from Wawa—85

Okay, so I spent a few paragraphs talking about how I was allegedly healthy, so let's now pull back the curtain and show you, the humble audience, what's really going on here. I am not healthy. Exhibit A: there were seventy times this year that I ate pizza. Being conservative, I probably averaged three slices of pie per occasion. That's 210 slices of pizza in 2017, at least. Google tells me that the average slice of pizza is 272 calories. That means that I added at least 57,120 calories of pizza to my already fat gut throughout the year. No amount of running or working out is going to save me if this continues.

It's worse for Wawa. I attended lunch at that fucking place like church. I'm not even going to try to calculate the amount of calories I ingested from Wawa, it would be too painful to research it. I don't want to know how the sausage gets made, as they say. You wanna talk about addiction? I can't fucking stop eating Wawa, no matter how bad it is for me. How was it that I was able to quit drinking cold turkey and yet I could tell myself over and over that I need to stop with the Wawa, and still find myself, Sizzli in hand, morning after morning? Someone please help.

Movies watched—51

I am not a movie person, so even this number seems high to me. I only counted movies that I watched completely, from beginning to end. Occasionally attending a weekly movie-watching with friends helped (number of Beeritos attended this year—13). And this isn't a count of how many NEW movies I saw. I'm sure a lot of these movies I've seen before. But even so, I'm surprised that I broke the 50 mark. Sometimes it feels like I never watch movies.

TV shows watched—34

It feels like I never watch movies, because I spend a lot of my time watching TV instead. It's the new golden era of TV. There's almost too much to watch. Included in this statistic are only TV shows that I watched in full this year (every new episode of the show that was released this year, or the full series), so I'm not even counting, like, random episodes of The Office or anything like that. Here's a full list (check out some of my favorites here):

American Vandal, Better Call Saul, Big Little Lies, Bojack Horseman, Broad City, Crashing, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Dear White People, The Deuce, Easy, Game of Thrones, Girls, GLOW, The Good Place, The Grinder, The Handmaid's Tale, Insecure, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Jane the Virgin, The Leftovers, Master of None, Nathan for You, New Girl, Orange Is the New Black, Review, Rick and Morty, Silicon Valley, The Sopranos, Stranger Things, This Is Us, Veep, Wet Hot American Summer: Ten Years Later, The Young Pope.

Phillies games attended—6

Phillies wins seen in person—0

The Phillies were not a good team this year, and I didn't see a single goddamn win the whole goddamn year in person. Didn't matter how many runs they were up, didn't matter if I was surviving a rain delay with family or drinking contraband gin with friends, didn't matter if I was shivering in the stands in Philly or shivering in the stands in Chicago, the Phillies never pulled off a win. And don't get me started about the game I went to by myself.

Church services attended—8

The sole reason I stepped a foot inside a church at all this year was because my friends and family still insist on getting married inside churches. Six wedding ceremonies and two wedding rehearsals account for my total church experience this year. I hate to jinx it, but I didn't attend any funerals in 2018.

Strip Clubs attended—5

Even at the low number of five, this number is totally inflated. Two of the five were at the Republican, both with my wife. The Republican is barely a strip club; it's more like a dive bar that happens to have strippers on a platform. One strip club trip was for Monday Beer Runners, when we ran to the Pennsport Pub, and stayed long enough for one beer and two single bills dropped in front of a stripper dancing literally on the bar. One strip club trip was on a Friday at noon; we were the only two people in the whole goddamn place, and we really were only there for the free lunch. So that leaves one cliché night at a strip club. It was a bachelor party, it was two in the morning, I was with the boys, I didn't get a lap dance, and I left for a half hour to walk around and look for food. Not too many strip club experiences in 2017. This is unequivocally a good thing.

Hung out at McNally's—3

If the strip club count didn't indicate how things changed in 2017, then maybe the McNally's count will convince you. There were years in my life when I would go to McNally's three times in a single week. But in 2017, I was there three times total. One was for a single beer. One time I was sober. Only once did I have a traditional "McNally's night" with sloppy beer drinking and dancing, etc. And that's okay. Things change. I'll live.

Did not sleep in my own bed—49 (13.61%)

There isn't really a broader thesis that this statistic encapsulates. There was a wide variety of reasons as to why I didn't sleep in my own bed 49 times this year. Maybe a level of how much of an adventure 2017 was? A lot were because we were traveling (Ireland, Wildwood, etc.). Sometimes, depending on what we were doing on a particular weekend, it was easier sleeping at the houses of family or friends than make our way back home. Twice I slept on the couch because I was in deep shit. I'm surprised that last one wasn't higher. Speaking of which...

Reasons me and Pam fought—21

I've debated for the past few days how much I should reveal here. I don't want to overshare. I think there are certain things I could talk about here that might add another tally mark to this count when Pam finally reads it. So I've decided to split the difference. I'm not going to talk about the number of times total that Pam and I fought this year. I will say that I believe that how often we argue is lower than average. This article doesn't give an average, but it indicates that arguing isn't necessarily a bad thing, since it shows that you care about a relationship. And fuck, do I care about my relationship with Pam. Literally the most important thing in my life.

(Note: I hope it goes without saying that when I am talking about me and Pam "fighting," not once do I mean we physically fought. I'm talking purely about verbal altercations. Domestic violence ain't cool, yo.)

So when in tallying up and reflecting upon the times that me and Pam came to disagree on something, it didn't necessarily make me sad. I mean, it makes me sad in the moment, when we are both yelling at each other. But ultimately, the important thing is that a lot of these arguments ended positively, with both of us coming to an understanding. Sometimes that understanding took a few days or weeks or months to find, but found it we did, eventually.

Here are the reasons me and Pam fought in 2017:

• Pam was grumpy about having to go to work
• I didn't do my fair share of housework, or didn't appear to care about the general state of our home as much as I should have
• I was too depressed about trump
• I talked too much about not doing enough for St. Valentine's Day, instead of actually just doing enough for St. Valentine's Day
• The way I look (clothes are ratty or stained, physique is unappealing)
• Pam hated the music I just put on, and I was in a bad enough mood to take offense
• I tried to have more sex / I was unable to have more sex
• My past/future/fictional sexual dalliances
• I wasn't trying hard enough to have a good time
• I am too cheap / Pam is not frugal enough
• I got us lost (mostly in Ireland)
• Pam didn't want to go to the Naked Bike Ride
• I was being annoying
• My big fuck up of the year, which shall remain unwritten here
• I was texting and driving
• Pam didn't want to take SEPTA to the hospital
• A Scrabble game ended prematurely
• I am really bad at Christmas shopping
• I drank too much
• I drank too little
• Reasons that were too unimportant to even note

Dates - 40

I am thankful for every moment I spend with Pam, whether we are chilling at home with a pizza, out with friends, or, yes, even fighting. I miss her when we are apart, every fucking moment. But my favorite is when we get some time out on the town to ourselves. There were 40 times this year that me and her went out for a meal (mostly dinner, some brunches and lunches), just the two of us. I didn't include nights we stayed in and shared a meal, or were out with others, or the times we were on vacation just the two of us already. All that considered, I think that 40 is a great fucking number. I know the number is going to drop a little in 2018. We're having a baby, and life happens, man. But no matter what happens, I'm gonna cherish every goddamn moment I get to share with her.

Days I had at least a beer - 184 (51.11%)

Days I got drunk - 79 (21.94%)

Sorry for the bad pun, but, these statistics are sobering. If you include the final stretch of 94 sober days, I drank more than 1 out of every 2 days, on average, and I was sloppy drunk more than 1 out of every 5 days. That's a lot. If you take out the final 94 days, it's even worse. Out of the first 266 days, I went to bed drunk almost 30% of the time, and almost 70% of my days included me ingesting one beer.

(Note: when I differentiate being "drunk" from just having a few, I'm not talking about the clinical definition of intoxication, which is probably like "more than five servings." I'm not a lightweight. When I say I got drunk 79 times, I'm saying that there were 79 times when I had at least ten servings in one day, if not more. Which makes this all worse.)

I've spent a lot of time on this blog bitching and moaning about my sobriety. I've spent a lot of time talking about it with friends and family and my wife and bitching about it some more and struggling with it emotionally. I've spent the past 94 days beating myself up about it.

But confronted with cold, hard facts, things are a little easier to understand. Clearly, based on my own written accounts of 2017, I was drinking too much. It's clear. You can't question statistics.

I will begin 2018 sober as well. At least for a while. Probably at some point next year I will have some alcohol again. I can't go my whole life without having another beer. I don't want to, honestly. But scrolling through my year in review, and seeing just how many times I drank, I know now for certain that I need to take it easier than I did. I can't live like I did for the 266 days of 2017. It wouldn't be right.

I'm not sure if, to you the reader, this post was boring or monotonous. To me, compiling these stats was a great joy. It took me a while, but I had to reflect on each and every individual day of my year to compile it, and that was fun. I had a lot of good days, and plenty of bad days, and a lot of medium days in between. Overall, though, I lived a good life in 2017. Only better things to come.

2017 in Review: Music I Missed

Unlike legitimate music publications, I usually wait until the very end of the calendar year to post my Best Music of the Year lists. But this year, I wanted to be one of the cool kids, and got that shit published on PoYB toward the beginning of December. But I don't stop listening to new music after the lists are up and read. December, instead, is a time for catching up on all the shit you missed.

It's a bit like being drunk and single at a bar at like 1:30 AM, and trying at the end of the night to go home with whatever wo/man is left, no matter the quality. It's hit or miss. Sometimes, great music is revealed even though the album only made it on to like one list, and that's awesome! Sometimes there's an album that the critics love, and I read about it so much on year end lists that I decide to finally give it a try, only to find, nope, just as I suspected, this shit ain't good, and that kinda sucks!

So my point is that my music lists might not be the end-all, be-all of my year. I found a few other noteworthy albums or songs that may or may not have made those lists, had I published them a month later. And I listened to some crap too, but we won't worry about that here! We only pay attention to the good stuff here at Puke!

1) "GM" by Ratboys

Gotta love a perfect road trip song.

2) "City Music" by Kevin Morby

This is a song for those nights where you end up on your apartment building's fire escape at 2 AM looking down at the quiet city below.

3) "Kept It All to Myself" by the Weather Station

Getting serious Joni-Mitchell-"Coyote" vibes from this one.

4) "Christine Perfect" by Lemuria

It's rare, but sometimes great fucking albums are released in December.

5) "Night of Long Knives" by Everything Everything

Even overwrought British bands can have bangers.

6) "A Little Pain" by Margo Price
7) "Shine on a Rainy Day" by Lee Ann Womack

I'd love to be able to understand rural America a little better than I do now, and listening to some good country might be a good place to start. It seems like the country music scene is just as confused about its identity now more than ever.

8) "GUMMY" or "SWAMP" or "JUNKY" or maybe "SWEET" all by BROCKHAMPTON

Speaking of different genres for Joey, I finally found another rap artist that I like! BROCKHAMPTON is a really fun rap group with crazy lo-fi videos and raps that I actually appreciate. I still haven't been able to pinpoint what makes certain rap appealing to me and other rap tedious, but I'm going to keep exploring this genre and attempt to figure it out.

9) "Ben Franklin's Song" by the Decemberists

I haven't been this excited about a bookish indie rock frontman dropping the F-bomb since Sufjan's "Want to Be Well." I haven't been this excited about the Decemberists since the Infinite Jest video. I haven't been this excited about Hamilton since, well, ever.

10) "True Lies" by Alex Cameron

2017's very best '80s-inspired dreampop song about sending money to a Nigerian Prince.

Christmas Traditions, Old and New

A full list of every Christmas tradition I've ever held true throughout my life, some old and outdated, some new and still going.

• When I was a young child, my parents had a tradition that predates the "Elf on a Shelf" craze of the current decade. Instead of sending his elf, Santa sent his "pixies" to watch my sisters and me, and make sure we were good children and deserved our presents. These "pixies" were never seen, but they occasionally left small gifts, like candy or whatever, to prove that they were there,
  
  always watching. My mother likes to say now that they missed an opportunity to market this Pixie idea and make some money, and Elf on a Shelf just got there first. Not sure how one would market invisible, omniscient creatures to the mass public, but...
• We also used to love doing those Advent Calendars. Usually that was the pixies first gift, on Thanksgiving. My sisters and I would take turns opening the doors and eating the little cheap pieces of chocolate. Boy oh boy, eating 0.5 oz. of chocolate at breakfast before school, that was a treat. It's the little things, ain't it?
• My family was a Fresh Tree family, so every year, we'd roll the minivan to the local Christmas Tree lot and pick out a good one. The closest, and probably most cost-effective, was (and still is) behind Oxford Beer Distributors. I guess it's some extra money during the holiday season for the family that ran the beer store. One time, when I was nineteen years old, I totally forgot that this was the tradition, and after using my fake ID to get a few cases of Natty, I had to literally sprint across the parking lot to avoid my dad and sister, tying the ol' tree to the roof of the minivan, two spots away from the entrance of the store. Underage drinking—a tradition that requires no holiday in my neighborhood.
• We didn't have a stately tree. Ornaments were thrown on the tree with abandon. The tree was decorated with a hodgepodge of knickknacks, heirlooms, and crafted bullshit. There was a
  
  popsicle stick snowman that I made in first grade, a few "baby's first Christmas" ornaments, little trinkets that corresponded to our lifestyles (I always hung a little snare drum, my dad would hang a tiny mailbox, and so on). 
• This is a tradition that me and Pam carry on here in our own home. A few personal ornaments made the trip from Rockledge to Port Richmond (that popsicle snowman from '96 is hanging on our tree as we speak), and we round the tree out with shit we've accumulated over the past four Christmases alone—First Xmas in New Home ornaments, First Xmas Married ornaments, a mini sixer of Pepsi to piss off my Coca-Cola-employed brother-in-law, etc. And let's not forget the important homemade Hamm's star that traditionally hangs right below that actual star atop the tree.
• When I was younger we used to have a VHS tape with the classic Christmas TV specials on it, and that fucker got worn out every year. I'm trying to think of what was on there. I know Muppet Family Christmas had to be there. Peanuts, definitely. Eureka's Castle had a good special, if you remember that show. I distinctly remember a Garfield Christmas special; me and Pam watched that again this year, and boy, it did NOT hold up. The Grinch maybe? Bottom line, we had a VHS tape with Christmas specials on it, and we loved that thing.
• Muppet Family Christmas is still on the docket every year with me and Pam, but otherwise, the Christmas stuff we watch consistently every year boils down to five movies. 1) Muppet Christmas Carol, 2) Christmas Story, 3) Love Actually, 4) Christmas Vacation, 5) It's a
  
  Wonderful Life. 
• Another thing that's nice to watch during the holidays is old Christmas movies. I've avoided my own family Christmas home movies for the last few years, but we used to watch them all the time when we were younger. We cracked open Pam's family home movies the other day, the first time that I personally had ever seen them. I am happy to report that Pam was just as cute three decades ago as she is now. (Sidenote: when my sister-in-law was two years old, she looked EXACTLY like my niece does now, except if my niece wore a '60s Bob Dylan wig.)
• My old parish, Presentation B.V.M. used to have a Christmas Bazaar every year, which was a pretty big deal in grade school. It afforded those of us kids with a limited income (like, $5 to spend) an opportunity to buy gifts for family, like a mini toy screwdriver for Dad and a homemade cookie for Mom. (I was in 3rd grade, give me a fucking break.) Also at the Bazaar were gambling wheels and Idaho Pull Tabs, yes a Catholic Church was encouraging gambling among young children. There was something special about the Christmas Bazaar. It really leaned hard into that feeling of Christmas, that magical time during the year. Of course, one year, we got a new parish priest who was way too strict. His rule of law stipulated that the Church cannot celebrate Christmas until Christmas itself. The weeks before Christmas were Advent, you see, and so it was a time of waiting, not a time of celebrating. So the Christmas Bazaar was cancelled. Yes, this is the same priest from this story we are talking about here.
• Making my Christmas List every year was a big deal, especially in my teenage years. I had to
  
  pick like five CDs to ask my parents for. This was before I knew how to steal music from the internet, so I would need these albums to sustain my hunger for new music for a few months.
• I'm kind of embarrassed at this point about how much shit we used to get under the tree every year. I'm not saying I didn't appreciate it all, even at the time. I tried not to be spoiled, and I tried not to take it for granted. But it was too much shit. We didn't need all these gifts. I talked with Pam about this the other day. I feel when our child(ren) are older, it would be prudent to take it easy on the gifts. I also want to start a tradition where me and Pam and the kids go out and pick out toys to donate to charities, to try to instill in my own children the idea that Christmas is about giving, not receiving.
• Pam and I usually try to do something "Christmas-y" every year, like go and see Christmas lights somewhere or something similar. This year we drove up to Longwood Gardens and saw their light display, which was beautiful and intricate. We also walked through the Macy's Dickens display, which hasn't changed in decades. This tradition of Christmas-y outings are our attempts at keeping that Christmas spirit alive from when we were younger, back when Christmas Bazaars and Pixies achieved the same outcome.
• When I was a Boy Scout, one of the worst traditions was the Scouts helping out with the Parish Christmas Tree Sale. The trade-off was that we would give the Church free labor, and they
  
  would in turn sell the Troop's homemade Christmas Wreaths and let us keep the profits. The "free labor" basically involved all us young kids chilling around the fire in a trash can, trying to keep warm, and eating the free pastries, and looking on as other people bundled up the purchased trees. (I'm starting to realize that I spent a lot of fucking time at Church in my youth.)
• One tradition that will never die is participating in a White Elephant every year, at some party. That's when you buy a general gift, and put it in a pile, and one person picks a gift, the next person can pick another gift or steal, etc. Some are better than others. The best White Elephants have a nice mixture of enviable gifts and gag gifts. Other White Elephants have, like, 25 gift bags of candles.
• Better than White Elephant is Secret Santa, when you pick someone's name out of a hat, and buy a gift specifically for that person. I prefer this over White Elephant because Secret Santa is more personal. You can show the person that, yes, I know you, and here is the perfect gift just for you. My La Salle friends do a Secret Santa every year, and the gifts get pretty creative. I apologize in advanced to whoever picked my name out of the (virtual) hat this year, since I am no longer eligible to receive a case of beer.
• I tried starting a tradition when we were teenagers of decorating a Christmas Tree at Burholme
  
  Park and drinking Lionshead, but that didn't really work out very well.
• The Christmas tradition I hate the most is doing my Christmas shopping at the very last minute. I do it every fucking year. I can't help it. Typing this now, I still have half my family to buy for. Target is going to be a fucking mess. Gift cards for everyone!!!
• We no longer have to buy gifts for any of the siblings. A tradition that was started last year was that we would forgo gifts and instead go out to dinner together sometime in January. We did this with siblings on both sides of the family last year, and are doing it this year too. That's six fewer gifts to buy! It's great!
• Back in the day, the Christmas Eve tradition was to go over my grandmom and grandpop's house in Lawncrest. When I wrote the story about Grandpop, I had all those Christmas Eves in mind for sure. Grandpop would always be decked out in the same outfit—white pants, green shirt, red sweater, white shoes (a few of my cousins have replicated the outfit in recent years as a tribute). There were so many people that gift-giving was limited to exchanges between godparents and godchildren (it was almost a 1:1 ratio). 
• Oh, and also, the Christmas Bags. Grandpop would put shopping bags together full of gifts for each grandchild, and staple the bags to the wall, each one with a grandkid's (nick)name on it. The "gifts" were absurd, ranging from dollar store knickknacks to a pair of Grandpop's old slippers.
  
  As I'm typing it, this all sounds like the work of someone struggling with dementia. I am 99% that wasn't the case. It was just Grandpop being Grandpop. I'm just realizing now that I take after Grandpop when it comes to those aforementioned White Elephant gifts. Last year I put a $20 Wendy's giftcard inside of a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger. That's totally a Grandpop move. The tradition lives on.
• Another tradition with Christmas Eve was that every food staple of this family gathering was coincidentally a food that I despised. The meal was as follows, every year: ham, pineapple stuffing, homemade macaroni and cheese, cold shrimp. From ages six to fifteen, these were like my four least favorite foods of all time. So my personal tradition was the annual Christmas Eve Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich. To this day, I still get abnormally hungry every Christmas Eve, I swear to god. I think it's a holdover from earlier, pickier years.
• Since Pam and I started our joint life together, our family has doubled in size, and so naturally, Christmas traditions in both families butt up against each other. Christmas Eve is a bit tough, because Pam's parents also have had a traditional Christmas Eve Party every year. We do what every newly married couple does, and splits time as evenly as we can, despite both parties being geographically far away from us. So Pam's and my tradition is now spending half our Christmas Eve in the car. Hey, at least we are spending it together!
• At some point I used to go to Mass every Christmas, either that day or the night before. We obviously don't do this anymore, thank fucking christ.
• Christmas morning growing up was the same for years. My sisters and I would wake up at some ungodly hour, out of excitement. My parents, however, had set a rock-solid wake-up time of 7:00
  
  AM, and we were not to disturb them until then, under penalty of death. (Obviously, they wanted sleep after staying up late to put together toys and drink some more or whatever, but we didn't know it at the time.) And so we would hang out in the dark and talk about how excited we were to get our gifts, and around 6:55 we would circle around the clock, and the very second that the clock turned seven, all three of us would run into our parents' room and yell MERRY CHRISTMAS and jump on the bed and Mom and Dad would groan and ask please for a little more sleep but then reluctantly get up and start the best day of the year.
• A few more Christmas morning definites: the three of us getting our picture taken at the top of the steps before we came down and started opening gifts; the video camera set up and capturing the whole thing; music was playing, the selection for many years primarily John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together, but eventually that switched to Sufjan Stevens' Songs for Christmas; breakfast was a bangin' casserole made with eggs, sausage, mushrooms; usually the rest of the day playing whatever video game was under the tree; a gift of lottery tickets from Mom-Mom and Pappy, and never winning a goddamn thing.
• Same with Christmas Eve, Pam's and my Christmas Day tradition is spending as much time as we can with family. We cheated last year and just had Christmas Day at our house so we didn't have
  
  to go anywhere and both families just came to us. This year, we'll be driving around some more, and then Pammy is sleeping because she has work Christmas Night.
• Me and Pam don't go too crazy with the gifts. Usually one, nice, thoughtful gift will suffice. A tradition for me is that I always tell Pammy that I'm going to get her a vacuum or some other home appliance, because she fucking haaaates that joke, so of course I'm going to joke about it every year. If this hasn't been established yet, I'm fucking terrible at gift-giving. Just fucking awful. But usually I find a way to get one nice gift for Pam at least (let's not talk about 2015).

There aren't many Christmas traditions on this list that I've maintained throughout my entire life. Honestly, that might be the best thing about traditions. They grow, they change, they adapt. Doesn't matter if it's me and my sisters watching Eureka Castle's Christmas or me and my friends drinking in the woods or me and my wife exchanging thoughtful gifts. Christmas is a time for being together with loved ones, no matter the tradition.

Merry Christmas from Puke on Your Birthday!!!

Rating the Love Actually Characters

Love Actually is one of those movies that is way less complex than it wants to be. Sure, all these characters are intertwined in a myriad of ways, some more clever than others. But at its core, Love Actually is just a series of morality plays. Each story has a good guy and/or a bad guy, and we sit back and watch to see if these characters make the right decision or the wrong one. Oh, and this all happens in December, technically making this a Christmas movie.

It's a great film! Pam and I definitely include it in the half dozen Christmas movies we watch every year. But, man, year after year, I have the same complaints about this film. Mainly, there are characters that make me angry. And there are a lot of characters!

Let's play judge and jury and determine whether the main characters are COOL, or are a DICK. Because I myself am totally a good person and totally am able to judge these fictional characters on their morals and merits.

Jamie — COOL

I can't think of another instance in movies or TV that depicts someone being cheated on, and then the person that was cheated on acts so... rationally? We don't get to see the scenes in between the exposure of the unfaithful wife and the retreat to the countryside, but by the time Jamie sets up shop with his typewriter in a secluded cottage home, it appears that Jamie has made peace with the shitty hand he was dealt. Basically, there was a part of his life that wasn't working, so he said fuck it, and moved on. And he was rewarded for his prudent behavior.

Aurelia — COOL

Not much is known about Aurelia, but I think that's kind of the point. Jamie literally can't verbally interact with Aurelia, but somehow they are able to make a human connection, and they find a way to fall for each other anyway. Aurelia is shown to be good and simple and kind. Definitely worth learning Portuguese for.

Sam — DICK

My rating might be harsh, but there's something extremely off-putting about a ten-year-old kid speaking so strongly about "love." I get that that's the point, and possibly the humor in the situation, that a preteen is able to so eloquently explain his feelings. But the idea of performing a huge gesture for a girl that you don't know and have never spoken to and still somehow are "in love with" is creepy in any context, ten years old or no.

Daniel — COOL, I GUESS

I'm more on the fence about this character than any other character in the movie. Yeah, supporting his child's wild misconceptions about love is irresponsible parenting. But Daniel is obviously in mourning, and I can't really blame him for trying his hardest to form a connection with the only immediate family he has left, even if the bonding they do involves trying to get his ten-year-old stepson laid.

Billy Mack — RELUCTANTLY DICK

I'm reluctant with this rating as well, because Billy Mack is legitimately funny in the movie, and I really did appreciate his "Dirty Uncle" shtick he employs throughout. But his humor is derived from cutting other people down. Whether it's his manager, an unseen boy band, or his audience's tastes in general, his humor is negative and degrading, and always at the expense of others. Maybe I see too much of myself in Billy Mack. It's challenging and rewarding to gets laughs from creating something. It's cheap and easy to get laughs from tearing something down. Billy Mack, late-movie redemption notwithstanding, employs too much of the latter. Hilariously, mind you, but still.

Joe — COOL

In Joe, we have the personification of the constantly abused. I mean, I can sympathize with him, getting constantly berated for being overweight by his ostensible "best friend." But he takes that shit like a champ, at the end of the day he realizes that Billy Mack is just being an asshole for kicks, and not because Billy genuinely dislikes him or anything. I think Joe is COOL because he understands the complex nature of male friendships, and is willing to forgive Billy when he goes too far. (And, almost as importantly, can dish it out when he needs to.)

Colin — DICK

This dude is fucking insufferable throughout the entire movie. His one and only goal is to fuck women, but he goes about it in the crassest way. For example, when he is "hitting on" the chick at the wedding, it ends up just being insulting. Colin's big plan is to go to America because it will be easier to fuck women there. So he goes to America, and sure enough, he immediately fucks like four women at the same time. I don't know what aggravates me more, that Love Actually seems to be rewarding Colin for being a dick, or that in real life, his plan to use his British accent to get laid would, in actuality, probably work.

Harry — DICK

This one is obvious, and everyone knows it. Love Actually knows it. The audience knows it. Harry's wife knows it. Even Harry himself fucking knows it. Though we never actually see Harry cheat on his wife with the hot young secretary, it's heavily implied. Even if he didn't actually hook up with Mia, and the extent of Harry's crimes were just that he bought Mia an expensive necklace and his wife a fucking jazz-concept album by Joni Mitchell, even if that's the worst Harry did, then the disproportionate gift-giving is essentially a metaphor for the state of his marriage and his tendency to break good things. Harry made the wrong choice. He followed his penis, not his heart.

Karen — COOL

I admire Karen in the same way I admire Jamie, though their respective situations are a bit different. Karen has a strong and probably correct suspicion that her husband is cheating on her. I mean, the dude fucking flaunted that shit right to her face at the Christmas party, flirting with Mia the whole party while Karen watched from afar. Karen did the right thing by calling Harry out on his shit regarding the Christmas gifts. Did she do the right thing by staying with Harry even after all his bullshit? I don't think that's for the audience to determine. Whether Harry made amends or whether Harry continued to fuck around, I think we need to trust Karen's judgment on this one, and hope that she made the best choice for herself primarily, and also for her family.

Mia — DICK

I mean, there's not much to say about this one. Mia was obviously aware that Harry was married and monogamous, and yet she was incredible conspicuous when it came to making it known her desire to fuck him. I'm not letting Harry off the hook here, obviously. But Mia knew what she was doing was wrong, and judging by the smile on her face as she puts on Harry's gift necklace, she simply didn't care that it was wrong.

Rufus — COOL(???)

It's never explicitly stated at any point in the movie, but I feel like Rufus might be an omniscient character. First, he takes forever to put Harry's gift together. It's played for humor and tension in the movie, but what if Rufus is taking a long time on PURPOSE?! He wants Harry to get caught, to try to prevent him from going down the wrong path. Then, Rufus shows up again out of nowhere and distracts the airport security while Sam runs past to profess his love. Again, was it just coincidence that Rufus stalls to change the narrative for a character? Rufus' knowing smile says otherwise. He knows what's up.

Prime Minister — DICK

I totally get the idea of not wanting to shit where you eat, so the act of firing his worker Natalie because he likes her makes sense on some baser levels. Even if we are granting the Prime Minister this, it doesn't make what he did any less dickish. How about this for an option: Um, TELL Natalie that you like her, and that's why you need to transfer her to a different department, so he can ask her out on a date? Seems a lot better than sending a lackey to give her the news and keeping her in the dark about it. And is Love Actually trying to say that the Prime Minister makes up for this egregious error in judgment just because he (poor guy!) has to knock on every door on a long street to find Natalie? How about trying to respect her in the first place?

Natalie — COOL

Natalie, to her credit, plays the whole thing off pretty well. I think the movie is trying to make the case that Natalie is a relentlessly upbeat person, and that she would be a good match for the Prime Minister because of this. Forgiving someone for their shittiness is a good thing. Making sure they never do it again is better. Natalie isn't a doormat.

U.S. President — DICK

In the era of #metoo, the US President's sexual inappropriateness with Natalie is especially appalling. Not only that, but I get the sense sometimes watching this movie that the Prime Minister maybe even resents Natalie a little bit for it? Like, say you're Natalie, and then the fucking leader of the free world, this creepy old dude, is whispering sweet nothings in your ear, who wouldn't be uncomfortable? I don't blame Natalie for looking scared for her life. I'm glad the U.S. President got his comeuppance eventually; I'm sad that his comeuppance arrived through vague international political statements, and not, like, a public outcry that the President was a scumbag. (Though, our current president is an alleged sexual assaulter and alleged rapist and bragged about sexually assaulting women on tape, and he doesn't seem to have to face any consequences, so what the fuck do I know.)

John and Judy — COOL 

Speaking of consent, here we have two lovely unassuming strangers, who are literally rubbing their naked genitals in each other's faces, and still they manage to maintain a basic level of human decency and respect. No problems here.

Sarah — COOL

I think we are meant to assume that Sarah is less cool than she is throughout the movie, because she is constantly bombarded with calls from an unknown party. Is this his husband? Boyfriend? If she's already shacked up, why is she also so in love with Karl? The questions are answered, and it turns out Sarah is a saint after all. The calls she receives are from her mentally unstable brother, and she accepts the emotional burden of having to talk him down from his episodes, because family comes first.

Karl — DICK

And for most of the movie, Karl is built up as the "ideal" for Sarah, from Sarah's perspective anyway. He is good looking and unassuming and seems nice and genuine. However, Karl earns his DICK status when he does not take kindly to Sarah's prioritizing her brother above all else. So Karl, instead of saying something like, "Wow, I totally understand, it sounds like this is important to you, what can I do to help?" instead he just gets all mopey that he didn't get his cock wet, and pushes Sarah away. Like, we get it dude, you have six-pack abs and women want to fuck you all the time I'm sure, but the woman who is hopelessly in love with you just needs a little emotional care, and you can't commit to that? DOUCHE.

Juliet—DICK

Juliet just got married to the love of her life. Everything is great. There's one small problem though. Her husband's best friend, Mark, is such an asshole. Like, Mark makes it very clear to Juliet that he doesn't think very highly of her. Which, yo, I totally get that this would upset Juliet. She seems like a nice person. But then, when it turns out that Mark is actually in love with her and comes to her house to profess his love while Juliet's husband is right the fuck upstairs, well then, that's where all the sympathy for Juliet ends. Not only does she NOT shut Mark down right away, but she smiles and encourages the dude. She actively hides the whole thing from her husband. And she then gives him a kiss, which on top of this probably not being cool with her husband, also gives Mark false hope, and REWARDS his creepy behavior.

Mark — HOLY SHIT, HUGE DICK

I think the biggest problem I have with this whole thing is twofold. Obviously, this was shitty behavior on the part of Juliet a bit, but definitely shitty behavior on Mark's part primarily. So from a liking/disliking characters standpoint, I dislike Mark the same way I dislike Harry. However, the more important reason that this makes me uneasy is that the movie itself, Love Actually, gives Mark a pass for his creepy fucking behavior. As if Mark muttering "This is it, I'm done, no more" absolves him of his previous sins. If the point of the whole movie is to say that love is messy and complicated, then sure, this would fit that bill. But the movie makes explicitly clear its thesis statement: Love is empirically a good thing, that it's "all around," that it heals, etc. So the whole arc with Juliet and Mark seems like a gigantic misstep. Anyways, fuck Mark.

NEXT WEEK ON PUKE ON YOUR BIRTHDAY: We explore the character dynamics of Valentine's Day and New Year's Eve!!!!