Booze & Adventure
Fuck My Life

I returned home from a camping trip yesterday, and minutes after I stepped in the door at my palatial estate, Hoare Manor, I, like most of us probably would, decided to check my Facebook. When I did so, I noticed something disturbing. Roughly 50% of what I was reading were people’s horribly depressing status updates.

You all know who I’m talking about here. We all have these Facebook friends. I’m not talking about people complaining that the Mets suck or that they’re too hungover. Those are normal, albeit problematic, topics of conversation. No, I’m talking about the people who write on Facebook what other people would tell their therapist. That, to me, is simply bizarre. If your life is in shambles, I feel for you, I honestly do. But do you really think fucking Facebook is the place to get it all off of your chest? And some of these complaints are far from standard. Some of these are dark, cryptic, and downright weird.

"I don’t even know why I get up every morning anymore. I just can’t win."

"With friends like these, who needs enemies. I hate you all!!!"

"I’m over it. I don’t need anyone. I hate this shit!"

These people, for lack of a better term, suck. Mark Zuckerberg isn’t your goddamn shrink. A wizard of some sort? Perhaps. But a shrink, absolutely not. You really don’t think there’s a better outlet to vent about the cesspool that has apparently become of your life? How about you visit another website if you’re so perpetually troubled. May I suggest You could always Ask Jeeves what the meaning of life is. He’s gotta be kinda lonely and bummed these days himself. At the very least you should poke Dr. Phil. And think about this. If you’re a consistent source of virtual depression, you’re most likely writing to an audience of one at this point…your super cheery self. Newsflash Dr. Happypants, the majority of your friends have probably hidden you in their news feed by now. It’s like that old saying goes, if a tree bitches and complains in the woods every day and no one’s around to hear it…

Then there’s that three letter combo that pisses me off even more so than the loathsome LOL, FML. Fuck My Life. These are the nitwits who in the winter write “I’m so cold! FML!”, and then in the summer write “It’s too damn humid! FML!” Sometimes it’s like I exclusively accept the friend requests of elderly Jewish women. “Best Buy doesn’t have season 3 of Designing Women on DVD! FML!” People, seriously, enough. Life is great. Learn to appreciate every damn day of it. Don’t believe me? Head down to the hospital and talk to a terminal patient or two. Go ahead and swap FML stories. I’d say “My T cell count is plummeting! FML!” trumps “It’s too cold for flip flops! FML!” any day of the week. If you die tomorrow, I bet you’ll be irritating all your Heavenbook friends with posts saying “Ugh, haunting is so hard! Fuck my afterlife!”.

Want some situations in which an FML IS warranted?

"My dick just exploded. FML!"

"Shit! Klansmen lit a gigantic wooden cross on my front lawn. FML!"

"I can’t remember which color wire diffuses the bomb attached to grandma! FML!"

"My girlfriend accidentally got her tits tied in a knot! FML!"

"Got drunk and woke up naked next to Magic Johnson. FML!"

My life is far from perfect, however my Facebook posts consist of jokes about movies which star monkeys, music I feel people should hear, and then the occasional picture of a puppy dressed like a unicorn (Unipuppy. Patent pending). Now is me taking the time to complain about complainers kind of like the pot calling the kettle annoying? No, sir, it is not. Why? Because I’m funny, so fuck off. You bitch and moan about your boyfriend telling you that your services are no longer needed in an entertaining manner, then I’ll eat every last one of my hilarious yet scathing words. Until then, if you truly feel that your life is so awful, have an actual conversation with an actual friend. Buy a self help book. Visit a goddamn monk. Do something. Just don’t post constant sob stories on Facebook. No one wants to fuck your life, it sounds awful.

I’d write more, but I’m watching Wheel Of Fortune. I can’t get this puzzle! FML!”


Peter Hoare

Creepy, Creepy Craigslist

Craigslist. To the best of my knowledge the only website where one could conceivably get a new apartment, a new car, and also gonorrhea all in the same sitting. In case your internet connection has been out for the past 15 years and you’re not aware of Craigslist, it’s this bizarre virtual catch-all of sorts where one can sell, purchase, or even trade a myriad of different goods and/or services. To the untrained eye, Craigslist is a rudimentary tool for e-commerce. No adds. No pop-ups. Easy shopping. Yet if you delve a little deeper, Craigslist is just about as creepy and strange as a website gets. But what about porn, you ask? Can’t be weirder than porn, could it? You see porn doesn’t disguise what it is. Porn pulls no punches. Porn is porn, a blatant masturbatory tool for the lonely and horny. It identifies itself immediately, and for that, porn, you’ve earned my respect. However with Craigslist, much like with the Transformers, there’s more than meets the eye.


There are very few things on the internet that I enjoy more than the “missed connections” section of Craigslist. This is a section which was apparently designed specifically for people who live in a fantasy world, most of which I assume are women who own multiple sweatsuits and even more cats. A missed connection is exactly what it sounds like. It’s a chance for someone to virtually send out a love letter to a stranger they saw somewhere, someone they fell in love with at first sight but never actually spoke to. Here’s an example of what a missed connections post might look like:

“I saw you in Long John Silver’s. You were wearing a Papa Roach shirt and eating popcorn shrimp. I was wearing a B.U.M Equipment sweatshirt and noshing on some baja fish tacos. We briefly made eye contact. I was about to introduce myself, but then, on account of the aforementioned fish tacos, I had to use the restroom. When I came out you were nowhere to be found. Are you out there?”

Missed connections posts are the epitome of sad and pathetic. Life is NOT a romantic comedy. Gerard Butler is not going to magically read this, seek you out, and then come sweep you off of your feet. No chance. Zero. Nil. None. The only possible outcome is for one of the Long John Silver’s employees to stumble across this, email you and pretend to be this guy, and then send you a picture of his own fish stick.  Sorry, lady, but Katherine Heigl you are not. Go feed Fluffy.


Yes, unbeknownst to most, in 2011 the barter system is alive and well. It exists on Craigslist. Under the “for sale” section, low and behold, there’s a subsection for bartering. Bartering? Really? How archaic is that? What is this, the 1600’s? Ye olde internet? Are you looking to trade your cobbling mallet for someone else’s smelting iron? Last time I checked my name wasn’t Bill, nor was it Ted, and I had no excellent adventure back in time. Who thinks to themselves, “Hmm, you know, I’d really like a new bicycle. Let me hop online.  Maybe I can trade my waffle iron for one.” In this day and age the only acceptable bartering is done in the grade school cafeteria, for example, “I’ll give you my gushers for your dunk-a-roo’s”. Don’t barter goods online. Get a goddamn job and go to the mall like everyone else. You’re not a fucking pirate.


What’s in a name? Everything. A “casual encounter” is Craigslist for an anonymous one-night stand. Yes, even after a psychotic, convicted killer was actually given the murdering handle of “The Craigslist Killer”, this section continues to exist. The justification for this section is that it’s meant for people to “hook up”, but in all actuality 90% of the posts are advertisements for prostitutes. And the remaining ten percent are probably, well, huge fans of The Craigslist Killer. Check it out for yourself. It’s like a fucking brothel! How this section hasn’t been yanked is beyond me. And let’s be honest folks, these have to be bottom of the barrel prostitutes. While I don’t know from experience (I promise!), I’d venture to guess these aren’t your top of the line women of the night. I’m willing to bet these gals are less Julia Roberts in Pretty Women and more Charleze Theron in Monster. I wouldn’t nail one of these chicks with Craigs dick and Tom from Myspace pushing. You partake in this particular section of Craigslist and it’s a pretty safe bet that sooner rather than later you’ll be casually encountering some genital warts.

Sure, Craigslist isn’t entirely freaky. Last summer I did sell my Nintendo Wii on there. Now did the buyer go home and use the remote to bludgeon to death a casual encounters prostitute? Who knows. Maybe he went and traded it to another Craigslister for some magic beans. Far be it for me to say. All I know is that ol’ Craig is, to say the least, a pretty weird dude.


Peter Hoare

Three Summer Jobs To NOT Apply For

So last night, sun-soaked and hungover after a debauchery filled 4th of July weekend, I sat down in front of the television and flipped around for a while. In between reruns of Family Guy and It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia I found myself watching an episode of Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe. And while that show certainly does feature some god awful jobs, it got me thinking of some of my own. I’m no Mike Rowe, but allow me to list a few jobs that I, and hopefully you, wouldn’t be caught dead applying for.

I’d like to say that if you happen to currently hold one of these jobs that you shouldn’t take any offense, but I can’t in good conscience say that, because I certainly don’t mean it. Take offense. Take all the offense in the world. Use this article as a motivational tool of sorts, a springboard to help you move on to something else. Help me help you.


You’ve seen these guys, haven’t you? These are the people who literally wear some kind of a sign around their upper body, stand on the side of the road with their thumbs up their asses, and act as human advertisements. Every day when I leave Penn Station and head towards my office in Times Square I see a handful of these dopes. One guy stands on 35th street wearing a sign advertising ink cartridges for printers. Really? Fucking ink cartridges? Who the hell is looking at this brain surgeon going, “You know what? My Epson was running a little low. Better get a refill!” Answer: Literally no one…ever. When I see these guys I don’t see a hardworking, young go-getter trying to pay his or her way through college. Nope. I see someone who I can only assume normally gives reacharounds for hits of crank behind Fudruckers, but he jacked off one too many and got a nasty case of carpal tunnel, therefore he’s now forced to support a nasty drug habit with this awful, awful job. Human billboard. How fucking demeaning. Your job is to do something normally done by a piece of paper. What are you gonna do if you get fired? Try and land a cherry gig as a human stop sign?


Let me preface this by saying that I have absolutely no beef with the food service industry (beef pun not intended). I’ve held jobs as both a waiter and a bartender in the past. People need to eat food and get drunk, both of which I regularly do on a gluttonous level. I get that. I respect that. However if your job is to stab a piece of bourbon chicken with a toothpick and then hand it to a stranger free of charge, well then on the fast track to success you are not, my friend. If you want to work with food, how about you set your sights on a slightly more reputable position. Free sample guy? Really? Come on. You’re better than that. That’s like claiming to have political ambitions and then aspiring to only go so high as City Comptroller of Bayonne, New Jersey. That’s like wanting to get into the porn industry but refusing to do anything beyond golden shower scenes. Set the bar a little higher, shall we?


My good friend Dan ( recently tweeted something to the effect of ,“Right now someone is learning how to bleach an asshole.” At first I laughed, and then reality set in. Holy crap (pun kind of intended). He’s completely right! Don’t know about this? Well it’s real alright. I’m under the impression that it’s far more common on the west coast than on the east, but it’s a real practice nonetheless. There’s a job description out there that entails changing the color of someone’s anus. True fucking story. Ladies, stop doing this. Now. Please. If ever there was a waste of money. We all know what goes on down there, Sally. There’s no cat to be let out of a bag here. It’s not like us guys are under the impression that you ladies shit gummy bears and rainbows. I’ve been a part of countless hours of “guy talk”, and never, not once, have I ever heard someone say “You know, Jenny’s great, she is. Now if only her butthole had a lighter tint to it…”. Enough! Don’t apply for a job to do this. Don’t get this procedure done! Just stop!

Now of course there are various other positions I’d advise all you recent college grads not to apply for, jizzmopper at a peep show booth for example. However the aforementioned three I find particularly degrading and soul-crushing. I’d like to list more, but I have to go print out some directions to the nearest nipple bleaching center. I hope I have enough ink.


Peter Hoare


In 2007, six gentleman shared a house in East Northport, Long Island, NY.

An update if you will.

Mike - Living in Long Beach with his wonderful fiance, Erin, set to be married in September of this year.

Nick - Engaged to fiance, Courtney, living together in Levittown.

Adam - Just got engaged…

Jeremy Enigk - Shade And The Black Hat. One of my favorite songs of all time.

A.C Slater + Slayer =

A.C Slater + Slayer =

THE 10 BEST OF 2010

This band can do no wrong in my eyes.

Fantastic Scottish indie rock. “Things” is one of my favorite opening tracks of all time. If you’ve never heard them before, check out their previous album for one of my favorite songs ever written, “Floating In The Forth”. Amazing music and vocals, yet the lyrics may be their strongest point.

Phenomenal album that is exponentially more phenomenal when performed live. Can’t wait to hear what these guys come up with next.

Quite simply put, I love Kate Nash and everything she does.

I loved Superchunk at 15, I still love them at 29. This band was a big part of my youth, and it continues to be a big part of my adulthood.

This band gets nowhere near the respect it deserves. They consistently make incredible music. They mix a male and female lead vocalist better than any other artist I know. That is maybe except for…

As for my thoughts on Jenny Lewis, see my thoughts on Kate Nash. I want both of these women to be my girlfriend, simultaneously. Plus, Jenny Lewis was in The Wizard with Fred Savage, who now directs episodes of my all time favorite TV show, It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia. Full circle, people. Full circle.

Pure relaxation. I’ve fallen asleep to this CD on the train ride home from work countless times over the past year. I love it.

"First things first I’ll eat your brains!" This CD would make the list for Nicki Minaj’s verse on "Monster" alone, but the entire thing is a work of art. I’ll never get sick of the piano on "Runaway". Lets have a toast to the douchebags.

I thoroughly enjoy this compact disc. That is all.



10 plays

Rilo Kiley - Dejalo

Justin Bieber got hot!

Justin Bieber got hot!