Category
17 articles
A wedding DJ once got 200 people to lose their minds over salt being shaken. I wanted to know what his magic would do to my laundry, my commute, and my dental cleaning. The answer: some moments were transformed, some were destroyed, and one changed my life forever.
Inspired by a decade of rating strangers' pull-out couches online, I built a full five-star review platform for every roommate I've ever had — verified badges, owner responses, and all. Then I wrote one about myself, and honestly, the one-star reviews were the most accurate thing I've ever read.
I surrendered my entire browsing history to a travel algorithm and promised to go wherever it sent me. It sent me to a Motel 6 adjacent to a Cabela's, and honestly, the math checked out in the most humiliating way possible.
Everyone says nobody reads the terms and conditions, so I did. Fourteen pages, two espresso shots, and one deeply concerning clause about 'perpetual license' later, I have questions about who owns my shopping data, my face, and possibly my soul.
My grocery store's loyalty program has built a psychological profile of me that's more accurate than my therapist's notes after three years. So I surrendered to it for 30 days, buying every recommended item and claiming every perk. What follows is a diary of gas station sushi points, unsolicited hot sauce birthday gifts, and the dawning horror that a supermarket database knows me better than I know myself.
For seven days, I surrendered my entire emotional identity to whatever IVR voice, hold music, or robotic menu I encountered that morning. The results include one HR complaint, two concerned coworkers, and a final discharge summary nobody asked for.
I found seven unused Groupons for activities the 2021 version of me swore he'd love. So I did all of them — glassblowing, a haunted pub crawl, and worse — to find out who exactly I was trying to become.
I handed my voice assistant 30 days of unfettered access to my dating apps, playlists, and 2 AM search history, then asked it to grade my love life like a quarterly earnings call. The numbers were brutal. The ROI on my dignity was worse.
I treated my group chat like a fantasy football league, complete with a draft, scoring system, and mid-season power rankings. The commissioner's report is in, and frankly, half the roster is requesting a release.
I spent an entire billing cycle on hold with America's biggest utility companies, and I have notes. Mostly about the saxophone. Here is my track-by-track review of the year's most unwillingly listened-to album.
We ran corporate America's most beloved (and unhinged) restaurant mascots through a hypothetical compliance review, and the legal exposure is staggering. Ronald McDonald, we need to talk about your performance. And your shoes.
Streaming killed the concept of a 'fake band,' because technically every one of them could drop a single at midnight. We ran the numbers on which fictional acts would actually generate revenue — and which ones would be a tax write-off.
Algorithms spend billions trying to predict what consumers want, but a singing chihuahua from 1997 beat them all. A tribute to the ad jingles that never left, plus one writer's failed attempt to evict 1-800-COLLECT after thirty years.
Six hours of 3 a.m. television ads taught me more about American consumer psychology than any marketing class. Here's what happens to your brain when the only witnesses to your insomnia are testimonials from a man named Skeptical Steve.
Central Perk has roughly four paying customers and one employee who hasn't been paid since 1994. I ran the numbers anyway, and the results belong on Shark Tank — as a cautionary tale.
Streaming services spend millions producing manufactured drama while my local Kroger delivers it free of charge, seven days a week. Here's my pitch for the unproduced reality series happening at register four.
Ever wondered what Monica Geller's apartment would actually cost in 2026? We ran the numbers, cried a little, and crowned the single most unattainable home in TV history. Spoiler: it's not even in New York.