The Wicker Park Hipster Nation

Wehehelcome back Brody Followers! I hope you’re belly is filled to the brim with a delicious Sunday Funday Mothers Day n. While you throw your feet up, and watch basketball tonight we hope our recent activities will bring wide grins to your faces. So here’s a rundown of what we’ve been doing now that the weather is pure dopeness. You know how it would rain at Coleman in the mornings then all of a sudden after lunch the weather is perfect just in time for sports and swim AKA the only 2 things guys cared about? Well that’s what we live in now. Except in this case rain is snow, and the morning of crap weather was actually 6 months.

So uh, don’t tell our landlord, but we are currently housing an illegal alien in our basement. He claims to be from Iowa – but his hair, carmel skin, and questionable hygiene all point to him being Mexican. His name is Asaf and if you’ve seen “Half Baked” (if you’re reading this you have) he’s our “guy on the couch.” Our basement which once housed a Bin Laden raid (team 6 baby) style snowball fight is now a sitcom style bedroom, complete with bed, coffee table, “privacy curtains” and a lot of hockey accessories. About 10 sticks actually. So… for all of those visiting before Memorial Day weekend you’re in for a little acoustic playing, organic food eating, headband wearing surprise. Wait, did I spoil it? Damn. Looking at you Robovick and Sheabutter.

Last night, Jakester, myself, Lucas, and Jake’s buddies Adam, Erica and Crystal, channeled our inner hipster and brought our talents to Wicker Park – a very hipster area of Chi. Now, don’t get me wrong I love telling people their taste in music sucks, Vampire Weekend’s second album was garbage, that I watched Freaks and Geeks back when it was on tv, and I always rock my skinny jeans and keys on a small carabineer on my belt loop, too. But these hipster bars were a little over the top. I’ve never been to Williamsburg NYC but I’m sure it’s the same clientele. Jake even wore a cardigan for it, and my white All Stars fit the bill perfectly. Jake’s buddy, Adam acted as our tour guide as we transcended into douche-hipsterdom. Rainbo Room (that’s not a typo, I don’t think they could afford the extra neon light for the sign) Big Star and two other places that we didn’t know—with ironic music and PBR—that Jake says “literally smelled like homeless people. They actually looked homeless too, I mean, one guy had a rat tail”. At one point I thought a hipster was angry at me when I asked him to “lead the way” when I made way for him in the bar. I then lovingly called him my Sherpa – Lop Sang for guiding me. He LOVED it, and wrote it into his notebook to put on his tumblr later that night. I’m guessing, I didn’t get his number. Damn.

Just to give all you followers a quick heads up, next weekend The Brody Boys (Asaf included now) will be taking their talents south… to a beach in Alabama. We have all been preparing by hitting the gym hard (pecs and delts only, obviously), taking our diets very seriously, and building our gin tolerance. There, we will witness true love, first hand at the Simmons – Bern wedding. It’s going to be wild, and a lot of fun and stories will be brought back.  We also will share around 28 hours of roundtrip driving which will be filled with iPod playlists and humorous podcasts.  It’ll be interesting to say the least… Wish us luck. Seriously. But before we go…. There should be copious amounts of Karaoke at the wedding, which has led to some serious discussions about what song we should all individually choose. Me, I’m thinking LEN- “Steal My Sunshine”. Please, regard us. All Journey suggestions will be impounded and destroyed, but we’re open to ideas. Brody – OUT!

What Happened Saturday? Jake and Scott Got ‘ROOF’ied!

“You see, what we’re actually trying to do here is, we’re trying to get a feel for how people spend their day at work… so, if you would, would you walk us through a typical day, for you?”

I know what you’re thinking…

Thought #1: Oh, what movie is that from again? Damnit, if I could only ask Jake right now what movie that’s fr—oh right, he’s writing this. Well, here I am and yes, it’s from Office Space.

Thought #2: Finally we get to find out what Gabe really does at work while at Roof at The Wit Hotel, one of the premiere venues in Chicago.

Ah, if you choose Door #2 (a la from the show The Legends of the Hidden Temple) you win a brand new Huffy Bike! Anyway, I had been to Roof two times prior to this past weekend, but not for a very long time—at least not long enough to see Gabe in action and “on the clock.” Every Tuesday through Saturday I get to see Gabe wake up between 12 – 2pm, hear him cough up phlegm in the shower, and watch him get dressed like he’s Jay-Z post-2009 – all black everything, with exception to the pocket square of course. In all serious though, Gabe looks pretty dapper in fulfilling his role as VIP host, and then he’s off to da Roof.

On this fateful night, Scotty did our best Gabe impersonation (minus the dark, ominous color tones) and sport-jacket-ed it up for Roof. Gabe has persistently recommended we drop in Roof, not only to see him do his thing as a host, but to enjoy the awesome ambiance, breathtaking views, and fat beats that the DJ’s drop on the reg. On Saturday, we were meeting my friend Lisa and her friends (Kristin, Christine, and Megan) who were in town for some internship training right outside the city. After we greet the girls, I give some “daps” to Webb who was running the side door downstairs and let us cut the line much to the chagrin of the other prospective patrons. We took the elevator to the 27^th Floor, and right away, we see Gabe “in the zone.” He’s got his iPad (yes, their guest list is managed via iPad) in one hand, Blackberry in the other, and seating people as quickly and efficiently as possible like the next show at the Chicago Theatre is beginning in 30 seconds (FYI – the Chicago Theatre is literally right next door).

Gabe is undoubtedly good at what he does—he sits people where they’ve reserved tables, he provides [Bobby] bottle service, he does damage control when unruly or unwelcomed guests are acting up, and runs the floor to ensure everyone is having a good time and gets what they need. A staple in every Gabe Huntting scenario, he keeps the people at Roof alive and enthused through his ever-present dancing. Whether “Sussudio” by Phil Collins or “Do You Feel Scared (Eric Prydz Mix)” is playing, the entire bar is Gabe’s dance floor. In essence, though, Gabe’s job is to schmooze. Fortunately for him, honing his schmoozing skills is a by-product of his childhood as an RK (Rabbi’s Kid for all you Goyim); schmoozing is basically currency that Gabe uses to rise up in the “industry”—flash a smile, say witty lines in the right circumstances, and drive attention to the scar on his right eye lid to create enthralling conversation. In turn, he hits the hot spots around Chicago during after hours and hangs with beautiful people. Jealous? Perhaps. It’s great…it works!

Gabe graciously hooked a table up for us in a solid location, introduced us to some of his Roof favorites (Roofies?) and made sure we said hello to our girl Lily and our main man Hakim (What up Definitive Culture). We all had some drinks, played College/Tampa Bay/South Florida Geography and Facebook Friends in Common (turns out Kristin new Popkin forever) and enjoyed the extraordinarily picturesque views of Chicago atop The Wit Hotel. The music was good, the vibe was solid, and we had a great time at Roof.

Florida Possee Invades Roof at The Wit

In other news, we’ve “earned” another roommate. Welcome to the The Brody, Asaf Vaknin! Men8C is now in full-force under one roof. Asaf is currently “figuring things out,” as he has been for entire year now, but we’re glad to have him and can’t wait for him to contribute to the Brody living dynamic. We’re excited no doubt, especially since he showers infrequently and sleeps a lot, so his utilities expense won’t be drastic. The only detriment might be TiVo’ing Jeopardy and PTI (is it really necessary to TIVO this?) and clogging our memory space. We’ll live, I guess…

Lastly, we are getting PUMPED for Aaron Bern and Jessica Simmons Matrimonial Extravaganza. We’ve been constantly talking about it with each other, brainstorming playlist ideas for the road trip down to Alabama, and having 30-message long threads between us, J. Litt and Jessie about the wedding details. We’ll bring the noise level up – a lot! Not 110%, not 150%, but 200%. It’s the Weekend at Bernie’s: The Extra 200%. BOOM.

P.S. Follow us on Twitter – @Mens8c – twitter.com/mens8c

And for all you law school peeps who need a law-school-specific note-sharing website, check out Legallynoted.com courtesy of Gia, another one of our Roofies.

Man Monday atop Wrigleyville: Where Gluttony Happens

As a lot of you may know, we have a nice little tradition here known as Man Monday. A time we take out of our hectic and stressful lives to kick back and spend some quality time together. This Monday was no exception – and it had been circled on our calendars for a while. Although Asaf’s presence was missed, Jake, Gabe, and myself called up Jen and Rich, our two reserves from AAA Iowa (ironically) to The Show for our Monday night 7:05 start. Man Monday was headed to the Roof – which in this case is not related to Gabe’s job or Conrad Hilton.

When Alexander Cartwright invented baseball he probably envisioned it like this… Young professionals spending $70 on Groupon to watch a baseball game at night under artificial lightning, across the street from the actual stadium in 45 degree weather surrounded by all you can eat buffets and free alcohol. At least, that’s what I’d like to think. And if you subscribe to the theory that Abner Doubleday invented baseball, well we’re sure he was turning over in his grave last night, which I’d like to add is actually in Arlington National Cemetery because he was a very famous general in the Union Army in the Civil War. If you take the tour of the Cemetery they even point out his grave. Ha! I just tricked you into learning something.

Wrigley Rooftop

Anyway, the game went down like this: We were fortunate enough to have Rich and Jen (two close MofO acquaintances of Gabe) join us on the roof to watch baseball in a slight drizzle and pound Fat Tires every half inning. The all you can eat and drink aspect really was a fantastic deal, and we even broke it down financially to justify our gluttonous actions. I know I accounted for two hot dogs, one brat, three cookies, one ice cream, and seven beers during the game (Beer ended at the bottom of the 7th if you’re gonna try and tell us we weren’t trying. Psh). Inside Wrigley that’s somewhere around $70, conservatively, which pays for our ticket itself, then add on the fact that the price also covered us seeing a baseball game. It’s like an old Mastercard commercial: one ticket, $70. All you can stuff in your face during the only sport without a running game clock, technically free. Not having to wade through urine in the men’s bathrooms at Wrigley? Priceless.

The game itself was kind of what we expected. A sloppy error filled affair highlighted by a Darwin Barney home run. In case you aren’t familiar with Darwin Barney – and you probably aren’t because I doubt his parents read this stupid blog and he’s just now getting the recognition he deserves– he is the half Asian (100% indelible however) utility infielder for the Cubs and the pride of Oregon state. Jakester knows this, but I predicted his success as the start of the year when I demanded that Wrigleyville Sports start producing his t-shirt. Those dicks better now. He’s making league minimum and forced his way into the starting lineup of a .500 team. That’s raw talent.

Also we finally got to see Matt Garza pitch in front of 11,000 people. Just like the Tampa days… And despite how politically incorrect it may be, during the walk to the game we realized Matty G’s disgusting facial hair or goatee or whatever– will now be known as the Garza Strip. Get it, like the 380 square kilometer chunk of land with over 1.5 million residents that is always at the center of the Israel/Palestinian conflict? Except it’s on Matt Garza’s face! That has Weekend Update written all over it. Call me, Tina Fey.

We also made friends with good company. Most people at the game were all about saving money (like us) enjoying baseball (like us) and generally having a good time (salute General Goodtime). Unless of course you like wearing Zoo York hoodies and beat up skate shoes. When Jen asked some dick, we’ll assume his name Skyler for the purpose of this story, if he would take a picture of all of us he not so politely declined. We then promptly made fun of Skyler- the fact that he was a prick, probably loved Good Charlotte in 10th grade and needed to go back to Arlington Heights immediately so he can rewatch Season 2 of Jackass on DVD. Please, regard us if you have ever seen anyone deny a group a photo opportunity like that. Not to mention that it was in a location (we were strategically positioned next to the bar, naturally) where he would have to walk past us at least 4 more times so we could ask “Hey, aren’t you that dick?” Each time we made visual confirmation that it was Skyler we reminded him that in fact he was that dick. Once the game seemed out of hand – and by out of hand I mean the Cubs were gonna lose and Henry Rowengartner tripped over the ball and broke his arm again (#RookieOfTheYearRefence) and couldn’t “zoom it in there!” – we moved inside as per Jen’s suggestion. Because you know what’s an awesome idea after consuming 29,000 calories of ballpark food? Speedrounding boxed wine under heat lamps! And we did just that. We follow Lucile Bluth’s philosophy that once you open the wine you have to finish it or else it goes bad. Everyone knows that. So it would have seemed irresponsible if we didn’t help out the friendly bartenders.

Sadly it was my first Cubs loss so we didn’t get to sing that stupid song they play at the end of their wins. Here’s a video of it if you have no clue what I’m talking about. Yes, it’s cheesy, and very catchy. And to be honest it makes the Cubs look like a cult. Now that I think about it… thousands of fans have been brainwashed every year into putting their faith into the hands of 25 strangers who make a lot of money and inevitably disappoint them in September only to start the vicious cycle April 1st the very next year. Actually the Cubs might be a cult. Marinate on that for a minute. So with our bellies full of food and some ice cream to go we rolled back to the Brody to sit in disgust over what we just did to our bodies and to dry off the rain and tears from my first of many Cub loses. Man Monday – OUT!

For the record, the Lollapalooza line-up just came out. We are taking reservations starting last night. We accept Paypal or Jameson. And we could offer a nice place to stay after Eminem is done making your ears bleed. On a serious note, this past week we eclipsed 7,000 page views for our blog. Thanks for reading and thinking that some of the dumb crap we do is entertaining. And if you’re one of our many law school/student followers you’re welcome for letting us aid your procrastination. Good luck on finals.

Passover 2011: This Year in The Brody, Next Year in Jersualem

Why is this blogtional different from all other blogtionals? Well, youngest child who asks because he has yet to be one of our 7,000 views, it’s because Gabe’s writing this bad boy.

It’s been a while since I last graced the blogtional wall with a post, but I’ve finally summoned the motivation to postpone my Sunday afternoon nap while Scotty/Jake pump it up as Xport fitness and Popkin remains MIA somewhere in Chicago (not really though, chances are he’s safe on a couch somewhere sleeping, smoking, watching TV, makin’ big business moves, arguing with his friend Trevor, or thinking of his next big hit movie).

We thought it only appropriate to crash Easter this year by writing about another holiday based off of a semi-grim/morbid story that eventually winds up being happy at the end (that is, before we got lost in a desert and the Christians got to crusading). That’s right, we’re talking about Passover! The Easter bunny ain’t got shit on the Brody tribe, and we celebrated in extravagant fashion this year as the Bernstein/Weston clan raided our leavened kitchen and home, leaving us with full bellies, lots of left-overs, mayyybe a little bit of matzo con-tzo-pation, and our own Passover story worth bloggin’ about.

Our Pesach story began with the arrival of Jakester’s mom, Ronnie, and the entire Passover section of your nearest politically-correct supermarket. The origin of Jakester’s gift of cooking couldn’t have been more evident as Ronnie began putting together her first of 30,000 matzo balls and nearly as many entrées as there are plagues (there are 10, for those of you who have put your egg hunt on hold to join us).

After the food was cooked, haggadas Xeroxed, and seder table set, Jake’s stepdad Evan arrived, thus beginning what I’ll call the ‘Book of Evan’ portion of our evening. I say this only because after finishing our bottle of Jameson, nearly everything Evan began talking about sounded as if it was coming from a prophet and lasted about as long as a short novel. We then watched baseball, heard Ronnie and Evan tell the story of Ronnie losing her phone earlier in the day from three different perspectives (it was a miracle!), and began our Seder once Chad Bernstein, his girlfriend, Marissa, and his roommate, Aaron, arrived.

Seder at The Brody, our glorious table

After we completed the first half, full of Evan posing more rhetorical questions and side comments than my 95-year-old great uncle Ted, and avoided some hiccups courtesy of the official Maxwell House Haggada  (Evan: “Everyone had one, I tell you!”), we opened the door for Elijah when, out of nowhere, BOOM! ADAM “Roothlus” LEVY. That’s right, I didn’t even warn you about that one in my preface (Sorry for blowing your mind). Roothlus, himself, along with his companion, Shana, jumped in on the Seder train for Cups-o-Wine 3 and 4. After the Seder, we said goodbye to la familia de Jacobo, killed the Manishewitz, and watched Pawn Stars with our newly arrived poker buddies.

Before Adam and Shana left the Chi to educate poker amateurs, we made sure to go see the new Chicago-based thriller “Source Code” starring our boy Jake G and had a wonderful lunch of natzo–un-levened Lou Malnati’s pizza.

Overall, our experience was delightful. As Evan so eloquently put it, the reason we all commit ourselves to such a long, boring, cracker-based feast once a year is to keep the tradition alive and be with those we love. Without a doubt, the Brody’s first official Seder could not have been a better example. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some leftover Matzo Ball soup to go Heat up… -GKH

Finally, A Blenna Blorgensblogpost: Jenna Visits The Brody

Oh hey guys. It’s been a month, but I’ve got guests… and a show… so crack open a Nawgan (taracco-orange flav, mixed berry is for chumps) and bring your green hat, cause I’m ready to go. And I guess that’s pretty cool.

For SB2K11 (woo) I traveled to Chicago, the magical land where Guthrie’s is not a chicken finger chain, bulldogs live for min. 12 weeks, cinnamon rolls are bigger than your face, wake-up playlists are an everyday occurrence, and the pizza sauce is on TOP of the cheese.

This 3-day Brody-SB-StPatricks-Biah followed standard -Biah proceedings. Playing the role of the lost Bonimer (check the ropes course) was Rachel Hammer; Grey Team Captain was obviously Popkin (hydrate with a Nawgan, I have to be up 8:00). And in the role of #winning participants: M05 (duh).

On day 1 of any Mac, you get all of the obligatory (blobligatory?) standard stuff out of the way: team meetings, robot store, famous pizza place, Stephen Goldstein sighting, introduction to the vom spot… ya know, standard. Is anyone surprised that Jakester has a street vom spot? Comin’ up, comin’ up—nope.

Day 2 is obviously marathon and sports rotations, aka bar rotations and a marathon day of St. Patty’s drinking. Somebody decided that Charlie Sheen was the new St. Patrick, and although I’m a little upset that we missed that silk-screen baseball tee memo, I was happy to join in the city-wide celebration of #tigerblood and #fastballs. [Sidebar: if anyone knows where to find those shirts, please, regard us]. Summary of day two: lots of spillage and general raging (general raging).

Mad River!

Day 3: Winners are announced. Drumroll please… My plate of straight eggs at brunch. Apparently in Chicago, 2 eggs = 9 eggs, and everyone is really tall (those things are related). We wrapped up the weekend with a trip to the Bean, which was pretty much like when all the teams come together to sing “We” after a rough couple of days and take pictures with their faces in their hands.

In honor of Michael Levine’s recent birthday, and in honor of grad school stealing my soul/will to ever write anything ever again (don’t go), I’ve decided to drop this narration BK-style for some “Brody Kangaroo Court.”

1. Best way to start your day: Running down the Brody stairs to see Jake Bernstein (circa 2006: The Scrawny Years) ready with the chest pass. The good thing about a Berkeley Basketball Memories poster in the hallway is that Jakester is litchrally always there with the assist.

2. Biggest regret: NOT following in Doog’s headbanded footsteps and eating a Murphy’s hotdog. Why would it ever be a good idea for a hot dog place in Wrigleyville to close at 8 pm? On a Saturday? I don’t get it.

3. Best “did that just happen” moment: Midday Saturday, we went in search of an ATM- as per ush, singing the Miley Cyrus Show theme song. No more than two minutes later, some rando on the street yells, “Hey Miley!!” at me. Looking back, it seems logical that this rando heard the song and made a contextually appropriate joke. At the time, however (6 hours into Marathon), we were blown away that this rando had identified me as a Miley doppleganger minutes after our M.C. shenanigans. What. Were. The. Odds.

4. Best follow-up to “did that just happen” moment: Jakester decides to test out the Miley look-alike theory, yelling, “Miley is in town! Look!” to unsuspecting passersby. Passersby remove shades to confirm celeb sighting and open mouths in disbelief. #Doppleganger status.

5. Most addictive substance ever: Nawgan, tocco-orange or whatever. Literally have not been able to focus without my tri-daily Nawg fix. I realize most of you are not familiar with “the Red Bull that makes you smart,” but you can contact local campus distributor Jami Ambler for more details.

6. Best souvenir: Unicoi State Park “Music Soothes the Wild Beast” t-shirt. It’s the new Leon Baseball, and I am #winning. Hopefully no one goes to the infirmary over this one.

7. Cutest living thing: Leroy (see: Scott’s mobile uploads). Look up “adorable pudge-legs” in the dictionary, and you will see Leroy. As Asaf so eloquently put it, “he has enough skin for the both of us.” In the future, when grad school is getting me down, I will picture Lovable Leroy attempting to coordinate movement between all four legs as he runs down the sidewalk to greet us. Limb Apraxia, much? #speechpathologyreference

8. Most accessories worn outside of the cabin: Normally, this award would go to Allison Levent for bringing the entire Limited Too store to camp. This year, Jakester managed to out-scrunchie Allison in an outfit any Leprechaun worth his weight in gold would envy.

9. Hardest thing to stand on: That’s what she said? But seriously, it’s the L. It literally took all of the arms of Aschwaf, Scotty2hotty, and Beakster to keep me from falling on every friendly+tall+plaidwearing person in the Midwest. No wonder Lance Bass had a hard time picking up girls on the train #onthelinereference.

So suck it, college spring break. Grad school spring break can be windy and still bring out the woo girls in us all. And I guess that’s pretty cool…. but that’s not the point. The point is, I will be returning to the Brody with my robot and Siamese twin soon. When exactly? Well, at this point… it’s a waiting game. We woooon’t knowww.

-Blenna Blogensborg

Seasons Fleeting: Brody Boys 1, Chicago Winter 0

They say Chicago winter comes in like a lion, and out like a lamb. Fair enough. Winter blew. Boots are heavy, gloves are easy to lose, and everyone has the same six North Face jackets and moisturized chap stick. But on Masters Sunday (a national holiday in itself) The Brody Boys officially claimed victory over the Midwest. But we’ll get to that in a bit.

Saturday was Rays/Sox which was a great little escape from seeing the Cubs blow a late lead. We also attended as Floridians and repped 727/813/and 941 the way we were raised to do so. We even made Bay Area friends on the train. Our common Rays gear sparked a little friendly conversation with some gentleman from Pinellas County and Jake embarrassed himself with a little interaction that went like this…

-Oh were you from?
-Palm Harbor.
-Whoooa, hoity toity, eh? Did you go to Pinellas?
-No…
-Plant?
-No… -
Where’d you go?
-Berkeley Prep (shamefully, head down because we’re all little spoiled private schoolers with superior educations that benefitted from small class sizes because our parents know the FL Public School system is a joke [hi, mom.])
-Oooooh. I bet you live in a mansion on the water. You probably live right over there in Wrigleyville.
-Uh, well Southport and Addison so uh kinda, ya.

Then Jake pulled out a knife and said “back off man, you don’t know how hard it was growing up on the water trying to live up to unfair expectations set forth by my doctor father and lawyer mother!” Literally none of that happened. But later on the train the guy from Tampa claimed it was his first time riding the ‘L’ and Jake said “Maz-“ (before catching himself and trying to put the brakes on the stereotypes that we just lived up to.

Anyway, the Cell was sweeeet. Amazing stadium, great food. Yeah, it was cold in the shade but damn it we were going to the Cell to cheer on our boy Matt Garza. Wait what? Oh, well then Carlos Pena…no? Carl Crawford??? Jason Barlett!?!? Manny Ramirez?? What happened to our Rays? Well at least Longoria will play, he’s locked up for the next 8 seasons. DL? Yeah, so the Montgomery Biscuits played the White Sox and lost. But, we did see the ESPN play of the week when Sam Fuld (member of the tribe) made a diving catch to end a Sox rally. Yeah, click that shit. Nasty, right? He’s the next Shawn Green? Ryan Braun? Whatever.

And then Sunday we woke up to something so glorious I almost fell out of my bed. I’ve grown accustomed to checking the weather on my phone, crying, then getting out of bed to start my day. But not Sunday. 80 freaking degrees! We even turned on a fan. After we learned we had one. Gabe was even able to walk to Subway in just his beater, AKA Justin Beiber, aka “I will never say sweater” and I just looked that video up on youtube and it has 187,469,191hits. But we enjoyed the Masters, and then went back in time as Maura Schonwald from our Israel trip in ’04 came over for dinner and to finish watching “Top One Hit Wonders from the 90’s” that Jake and I recorded from Saturday night. Bittersweet Symphony was #30 which still offends us, and may warrant a letter to vh1.

Overall, moderately successful. But seriously, Chicago. That was winter? Only one blizzard of 20+ inches? I never even had to buy long underwear. Hand warmers? Pssh. Frost induced bloody noses? Not even. Tongue stuck to streetlamp? We’re too smart for that. Flowers have even somehow bloomed on our front porch which we had all but left for dead. Outdoor seating is everywhere and all of a sudden I realized I threw out my Rainbow Sandals after college and may need to break down and re-up with another pair. So, now people can stop giving us shit about the weather. Hey, Florida: enjoy your daily 4:27 thunderstorm followed up by sauna-like evenings and nonstop conversations with old couples getting the early bird special at Applebee’s talking about how “it got so hot so fast”. Seriously, suck it.

Jared Popkin Experiences Carpal Tunnel Due Excessive Facebook Updates

If any you avid blogtional followers have noticed, our fourth roommate Jared Popkin seems to be MIA practically all the time and has yet to contribute to the blog. Many of you have come to the Brody and never seen the Loch Ness J. Pop / Bigfoot / Tooth Fairy. (Yeah, we’re looking at you Lucas Cupkovic).  So you all assume he literally does not exist. However, if you log on to Facebook really at any time of the today, chances are you’ll get a Jared Popkin status update in your top news or most recent updates in your mini feed. Phew, because there are times where we seriously doubt if Popkin is dead or alive. It’s also our way of knowing when mighty Cong has awoken from his slumber:

Jared Popkin: 3:12 pm: “Woahh, it’s nice out!!!”

But besides knowing when he’s awake, we typically get 3 updates a day describing his hustler status, his moving making mania and latent references to his love of all things medicinal. But for all you out there worrying, Popkin’s recent case of glaucoma has really shown signs of improvement.

We’re not the biggest math geeks or wiz kids (by the way, where does wiz come from?), but Popkin has posted 39 status updates over a 2-week time period, which equates to roughly 3 posts a day. However, more intriguingly, Popkin’s usually awake from 2 pm – 2 am, so that’s a good 1 status update or post every 4 hours. Times are tough. But as he would say, “time is money – Chi City livin’ “ – oh wait, that’s his former BBM status.

Don’t get us wrong – the rest of us Brody boys are quite the social media aficionados, but always in moderation. But that’s neither here nor there. We’ve captured some screenshots taking some of the highlights of Popkin’s life on the reg – waking up, finding his sheets, making movies, going to comedy class, and general brainstorming of hopefully-will-be-funny-one-day comedy sketches. Enjoy!