Rave Blog

By: Ali Benz

I said I’d never go to the rave again, but then I definitely went to the rave again. And again. Strictly for research purposes, though. Music festivals are a dangerous place. Luckily, I was brave enough to go and can reveal my findings. All I can think about is how similar ravers are to therapists. I know that sounds weird af, but it’s true. Both are in my life and both are sending me love and light. I don’t really know what that means but I love to receive things, so send it.

First of all, can we talk about crystals? I mentioned that my neck was hurting and someone told me to just “throw some agate on it.” WTF does that mean? Apparently doctors aren’t a thing anymore. I don’t know who loves stones and crystals more, my therapist or everyone at Burning Man. Want good vibes? Here’s a crystal. Need a new car? Here’s a crystal. Want to murder your ex? Here’s a crystal! It’s amazing. The crystal industry is booming. Remind me to invest in Swarovski.

These festivals can also get very spiritual. People are always “realizing things”. Isn’t that the point of therapy, though? To discover yourself and have breakthroughs and sh*t? Pass the Ayahuaska . The only difference is psychologists deal with real Shaman whereas you probably met a guy in a headdress who calls himself “Starlight” and tried to sell you an Adderall. Tragic.

Both parties also have this fascination with dance. I’ve seen therapists do this energy/movement dancing. It kind of looks like a mating call but I dig it. The moves are proven to have huge mental benefits if you can get past looking like a tribal dancer at a human sacrifice. Don’t knock it before you try it. At least you’re not a shuffler at an Insomniac event. Don’t get me wrong, I think shuffling is cool and I’ve maybe done it by accident before (for research purposes). I just don’t like shufflers that are cocky. Like I get it you can stomp the ground hard in your Sketchers but like don’t be a dick about it.

If you don’t know what shuffling is, it’s this thing that was cool in 2012 that gave white kids the opportunity to break-dance to House music without having to appear in a Missy Elliot music video. Nowadays, it’s become another YouTube phenomenon where anyone can profit from recording themselves in their step-mom’s backyard on an iPhone4. People around the world literally post themselves shuffling and get more sponsors than a child-star on Ellen. These “shufflers” get so competitive with their stomping and such and then try to sell me pre-workout. This is not Crossfit. Please leave me alone. Just sell your Bang energy drinks and move on. At least all my therapist tries to sell me is her e-Book.

I know I’m acting salty. I swear I’m not mad. It’s just that I don’t know what costs more, a night at the Brooklyn Mirage or an hour with my shrink. This stuff should all be free. At either event, I receive unsolicited advice and a hug at the end. Maybe some tears, who knows. Music festivals can be an amazing experience, as long as you don’t get mono from sharing everyone’s Camelback. Therapy is also a great release. I just feel like, with all the wild/exciting stories I tell mine, she should be paying me. But this is America, so I will continue to pay $200/hour to tell someone about how I went crowd-surfing at a Diplo set and got in a fight with the man in the Halal truck at 4 am. Tragic.

An Accurate Debate Recap

By: Ali Benz

I can’t take these presidential debates seriously. After anyone speaks I think it will be followed by, “And live from New York, it’s Saturday Night Live!” I’m not sure if I should blame Alec Baldwin or my extreme A.D.D., but I must say these events are more than political. They are mildly entertaining. It’s important to tune in and vote so you can make a difference and all that, but it’s also V important to take note of all the ridiculousness that was the democratic presidential debate. Don’t get me wrong—there were some great arguments and strong competitors on the stage. I just find it a bit hard to focus on policies and numbers while Bill de Blasio is screaming at me through my TV.

Let’s start with Joe Biden (because he’d be offended if we didn’t). Is he like, super close with Obama or something? I couldn’t tell. We get it Joe, you were VP. Get over it. He reminds me of the quarter back of your high school football team that won’t move on. That’s cool, Biden, you were hot in 2009 but it’s time to get a real job. This washed up prom king won’t give it a rest. I get that some people are super into the Affordable Care Act and all, but will it protect women from Joe? Kirsten Gillibrand threw a dagger when she brought up the former VP’s argument that “women working outside the home would ‘create the deterioration of family.’” Really, JB? This is why we can’t have old people in office. They are not up with the times and they don’t send good memes.

Gillibrand’s attack on Biden was what made me want to learn more about her. For some reason her name is Kirsten, not Kristen, and I think that’s super trendy. Every time she spoke I thought she was giving the sermon at my Bat Mitzvah. I was so close to inviting her to light candle number two. Truthfully, I’m not sure where I stand on healthcare, but Kirsty stands with Bernie on Medicare for all and I love that for her. Last week I had to drop 1k on an EpiPen because I’m “allergic to dust.” Everyone’s f*cking allergic to dust. It’s dust. Anyway, whatever plan is going to make sure that never happens again is fine by me. I could’ve been in Mykonos but instead my money is going to a pen I don’t know how to use for a fake allergy.

Speaking of money, did Andrew Yang just offer to give me one thousand dollars per month? Yes, please. That means 12k a year aka one EpiPen and eleven months in Europe. Sign me up for the Yang Gang. TBH there’s no chance this legend will win, but he still has my full support. Every time he finished speaking I swore he was going to drop a promo for his comedy special. He really brought the energy, and for that, I’m in.

Michael Bennet did the opposite. This man was sleepier than Ben Carson. Wake up, buddy. I’m sure he had some solid points but I really wasn’t engaged. I would get engaged to Julián Castro, though. Is anyone else sexually attracted to this man? Politics, but make it fashion. His hair, his tie, his voice? Jules was the full package. If this president thing doesn’t work out he definitely has a future as the next Bachelor. Someone call Chris Harrison.

I didn’t realize that Cory Booker wasn’t Vin Diesel until about half-way through, but he crushed it nonetheless. He went head to head with Biden and didn’t back down. While their showdown did teach me a lot about immigration policies and how Joe is stuck in the past, I also received other vital information. I had no idea you could say “sh*thole” on national television. Thanks, Cory! It’s safe to say Booker is now the political king of clout. After his “dipping into the Koolaid” comment, the Koolaid man actually tweeted at him and I think that’s a beautiful thing. The most famous person that ever tweeted me was Jake, from State Farm.

Throughout the entire, cringe-worthy debate, I looked at Kamala Harris as a light. She reminds me of literally every “cool” guidance counselor in any ABC Family show ever. The one that goes above and beyond for the students and gives them motivational speeches to “try harder.” Miss Hawaii obviously thought differently. She annihilated Harris and basically called her a hypocritical pothead in front of all of America. I see you Tulsi. Makes sense though. Might as well leave it all on the field on your last day.

Who knows who we’ll be seeing in September. All I know is that Bernie Sanders is having a Hot Girl Summer and that’s all that matters. He’s backed by Cardi B and the B is for the Bern. It all makes sense now. I just hope the Republican debate is as lit as the Dem’s was. It’s a relief to finally see some good TV after watching Luke P. cry all summer. Tragic.

Stop Selling Me Things

By: Ali Benz

Has anyone ever had to Venmo a homeless person? I have. Not having cash is no longer an adequate excuse. The ease of sending money makes everything super awkward, like when I have to donate to a cause on Facebook for a birthday every other day so I can sleep at night. Between Paypal, Zelle, and online shopping there are no limits.  You can literally sell anything. Whether it’s a product, an idea, or an app—someone’s buying. People want the next best thing even if it’s dumb af. You can literally put your trash on Etsy and call it a “Vintage Dream-Catcher” then suddenly some weirdo in Colorado is paying your rent.

I know everyone has seen those stupid Scooters around town for people who can’t afford Uber. That’s already pretty f*cking weird, but now I’m seeing pogo-sticks. You can hop your ass to work now. I was a professional pogo-sticker back in ‘02, but best believe you won’t catch me on one of those today. Pogos are absolutely not a method of transportation and make literally no sense. Imagine if you didn’t have the right backpack on—or bra. I’m so disturbed. Please, no more bouncing. Bring back Heely’s.

If you commute to work like a normal person, you probably need a decent night’s rest. Everyone has insomnia these days because it’s like, “in”. Super irritating considering I haven’t been able to sleep for years but now everybody wants to talk about it. Luckily, people capitalize on trends immediately and sell weird products on the internet to my mom. First, it was CBD oil. Now, it’s f*cking lavender? What? I told my mother I couldn’t sleep and she sent me a jar of lavender to lather myself in. It never put me to sleep but I do smell like a f*cking candle. Usually when I can’t go to bed my friends give me five melatonin and a Benadryl and hope I STFU. It doesn’t work either but at least I don’t turn into a plant.

Speaking of transforming, can everyone please stop downloading the FaceApp? Why are you so obsessed with posting pics of yourselves as old people? Your day will come. I legit never once wondered what any of my friends would look like at age eighty. Also, I don’t get why celebs insist on aging themselves in the app, too? No one cares what you look like Ludacris—I didn’t even know you weren’t that old. Please be more relevant. And seriously, Jonas Brothers? Why’d you do Kevin dirty like that?! He was already the least interesting to look at then they went and gave just him one of those creepy skin tags. Tragic.

When the internet isn’t targeting face-tuners, they pray on the over-weight. Forever 21 sent Atkins bars with plus-size orders as part of a master marketing plan that certainly wouldn’t be offensive. What do these people think, their XL customers will be flattered to receive subpar diet bars with their jeggings? That they’ll start buying Atkins products because the most disorganized clothing company in the world suggested it? Taking diet advice from a Forever 21 is like taking dating advice from Tiger Woods: It just doesn’t work.

Unfortunately, the FBI agents in our phones will continue to stalk us and bombard us with ads for exactly what we want. You can’t escape it. Instagram will target you. Amazon will find you. Don’t drink and Prime. You might just end up with two pashminas in the middle of July.

Beginner’s Guide to Brooklyn

By: Ali Benz

If you’re like me and you’ve been to Brooklyn twice, you’ve probably had the pleasure of riding the L train. It takes some getting used to, but you slowly learn that on the L all you have to do is grab on to the nearest man-bun for stability. Never fails and there’s always one around which is super rad. There are always different types waiting for your grip, but my favorite is the ginger-red double-knot for extra support and style.

Do I hate Brooklyn? No. But it’s def one of my least favorite boroughs. If you’re going to cross that bridge you need to be ready. Vans must be strapped, but just loose and distressed enough to give that “I don’t care and sometimes I take my longboard to my job in a WeWork space vibe.” Check your Manhattan privilege at the door. BK is all about the local brews. If it’s not on draft, don’t even bother. If you go to a coffee place in Bushwick, which probably doubles as a thrift-shop or a yarn store, do NOT mention Starbuck’s. Immediately order the nitro cold-brew, demand oat-milk for an extra ten dollars, and get out. Paper straws only!

Same rules apply to any hipster bar you visit. Get a local home-brewed craft IPA stat! If it was wintertime, I’d recommend chilling in your rattiest Carhartt beanie with a little hint of man-bun coming out so they know you’re not messing around. Since it’s summertime, I recommend a flat brim hat that looks like it’s almost falling off your head but really you’re just too chill and present to care. There are more important things, like the environment, duh. Pair it with a random, super underground band-tee to really seal the deal. Maybe one that says “Joy Division”—whatever the f*ck that is.

Once again, I’m not hating on Brooklyn. How could I not love a place where everyone’s vegan and owns an Android? This place is sustainable af. Where else could I play competitive corn hole while listening to my favorite techno set in a brewery that used to be a factory that used to be an infirmary? It’s a beautiful thing, really. It’s the only grounds where getting f*cked up on kombucha and running around barefoot is admired and not a “cry for help” like your therapist says. Tell your shrink to chill and have some mead, bro.

If you’re having trouble connecting with “Brooklynites”, just casually mention Burning Man. I’m positive that everyone in this borough is attending. However, whatever you do, do NOT mention Coachella. Coachella is mainstream. That’s a dead giveaway that you don’t compost and you eat meat. To find a happy medium, I suggest the Brooklyn Mirage: a place to go when you want to leave Manhattan to see a bunch of people from Manhattan, but with the luxury of a “Williamsburg” snapchat filter. Just don’t come crying to me when the paper straw melts in your gin & tonic. Tragic.

 

 

True Life: You’re an Alien

By: Ali Benz

Do people even know what UFO stands for? It literally just means unidentified flying object. I consider a UFO to be that random scrap of meat the hibachi chef throws into your mouth and you just eat it no matter what because—showbiz. The term doesn’t directly relate to aliens, but it’s completely understandable if you grew up watching E.T. A UFO may be flying Japanese meat in my eyes, but to others, it’s the possibility of a whole other galaxy.

I’m down for an alien invasion just as much as the next guy. I just hope these slick extraterrestrials are single af. Everybody these days is either gay or married, so I’d take a handsome, tech-savvy E.T. any day of the week. My hopes are obviously up, but one can’t even be sure that the objects the Navy reported are extraterrestrial. The Navy is dramatic and prob just wants attention, or a day off from work. I told my boss I had tennis elbow to get a sick day, but I bet if I said I saw a UFO in 2015 he’d suggest a leave of absence for “personal reasons”.

Honestly, I think there are aliens all around us and we don’t even know it. For example, where in the world is Carmen San-Diego? Aka Melania Trump? I miss her so much. TBH Melania looks exactly like E.T. There. I said it. I am NOT bullying her. I know she is the obvious leader of the anti-bullying campaign. E.T. is super handsome. They both have that beautiful, copper skin, light eyes, and amazing figure. If they did a face-swap it would be the sexiest first-lady-alien alive, so don’t come at me like some alien body-shamer or whatever. I’m a fan. I just think it’s possible that Trump married an alien and was a huge fan of Steven Spielberg in the 1980s. Conspiracy theory people: Back me up here.

Everyone has their reasons for believing or not believing in intelligent-extraterrestrial life. The other week I was walking home from the bar and I was in a bind. My feet were too tired and Uber is unsafe so I made the obvious decision. I jumped on the back of a delivery man’s bicycle and asked him to drop me off on the Upper West Side. He pedaled me all the way home without asking any questions—and not just because he spoke zero English. As the wind blew through my hair on the heroic man’s handlebars, I realized that I was basically E.T. I’m clearly an alien too, or else I would’ve just taken a Lyft. I also learned that night that you shouldn’t drink on antibiotics. This was the year of realizing things, just like Kylie Jenner said! A modern Gandhi.

It’s rare that others will experience the spiritual awakening that I had. I think a lot of excitement around the UFO sightings is out of desperation. The state of the world is so wild right now that people want literally anything to believe in. From abortion bans to climate change it’s no wonder people are so quick to latch on to the idea of aliens. Maybe these UFOs are coming into awareness as our savior or a reason to give people hope. We all need something to put our faith in and honestly, I’m here for it. I thought Jonathan Cheban was our God, but apparently, he’s just a Foodgōd. Tragic.

This alien sh*t also could not have come at a better time. I just read an article about a new craze of people LARPing in the park with goats. Like there are humans literally role-playing as part of a goat fantasy at local farms in Connecticut. I hope the aliens abduct them first. As if CT needed one more reason for people not to visit. You really blew it, Nutmeg State. And yes, I’m from there. If you’re looking for me, I’ll be ~summering~ at Area 51. Montauk is for Muggles and my hometown is filled with LARP.

Your Diet Starts Here

By: Ali Benz

As Memorial Day Weekend approaches, many of us are scrambling to get in shape to drown ourselves in rosé in the Hamptons. I even considered observing Ramadan to lose weight, but I realized that was kind of ridiculous. It’s brilliant that they schedule the fast right before the first beach weekend of the year, but starving yourself is not the move. I stan a spiritual fast, but if you don’t even have the religious involvement or clothing, it’s not for you. Ramadan, but make it fashion.

You’re crazy if you think there’s such a thing as the perfect body. Seriously, like not even Kendall Jenner. I remember last year when she got shamed for having strange-length toes. Weird flex, but ok. Aside from imperfect feet, no one seems to ever be content with their weight. I always thought it was super annoying when boys would complain that they were too skinny.  Are you kidding me? The last time I complained about being too thin was in 6th grade when I couldn’t fill out a jean skirt from Abercrombie & Fitch.

Men are insecure about being too small while women fear being large and in charge. Can’t we just meet somewhere in the middle? Not to bring up the Kardashians again, but I’ve always admired their commitment to strength and fitness. These women work out like crazy and take pride in their thicc, muscular bodies. I find it super empowering. That’s how Kim landed her role in Paris Hilton’s music video for her new single “Best Friend’s Ass”. Obviously a very powerful, thought-provoking jam that you’ll be showing your grandkids. With lyrics like, “F*ckboys everywhere tryna get a pass / but I can’t stop staring at my best friend’s ass”, you know you’ll be hearing it at mainstage at your nearest music festival as you get knocked around in GA by girls shuffling in nipple-tassels and that one guy who consistently brings a glow-in-the-dark hula-hoop and asks if you want a light show. Tragic.

Speaking of music festivals, I am taking a hiatus (don’t quote me on this). I used to say if you want to lose a few pounds just go to EDC Las Vegas or something. Between sweating all night and walking around looking for your car for three hours in the desert, you’ll be shedding pounds in no time. I know it sounds luxurious, but this is also not a healthy weight-loss method. That’s like Ramadan but on molly and with no spiritual awakening—unless you’re that forty-year-old in the crowd that keeps tripping on acid and claiming he’s talked to God.

I will also be taking a break from these events because last night my friend said she was going to Alcatraz and I asked her who would be DJing. It’s a prison. Not a music festival. Everybody was disappointed that day. If you are worthier than me and attending an actual festy, I understand you might want to diet and look your best in the crowd—or in your pics taken in the crowd, I should say. Especially now, seeing as how Tinder has decided to make a “Festival Mode” because that’s exactly what we all needed after the Herpes outbreak at Coachella. Thanks, Match Group! I just googled who owns Tinder and it said Match Group if you didn’t get the reference either.

If you will be using Tinder Festival Mode, there are other ways to get fit for your future #RaveBae. Starvation and deprivation are so 1900’s. Both men and women should focus on eating a healthy diet and exercising in a way that is best for them. If you have a beer or five at a Yankee’s game it’s not the end of the world. Enjoy yourself and focus on being the best version of you. Women: don’t be afraid to go hard in the gym and lift weights—muscles are beautiful on every gender. Men: stop complaining about being too skinny because it’s f*cking obnoxious. Just roll with it and know that the entire female community is envious of your situation. If everyone would stop judging each other and their body types, the world would be a better place.

Who cares what it says on the scale. The number doesn’t matter, I’m pretty sure it’s random anyway. Super dramatic that my doctor must weigh me literally every time I see her. Get over it it’s like you’re obsessed with me or something. Then I always have to minus like ten pounds for my shoes and everything in my pockets like that one piece of gum and my hair tie. Forget about the number and hone in on how you feel. Treat yourself, and wear that bikini that your mom said was too smol. Just not to a work event.

Everybody is Depressed

By: Ali Benz

If you find yourself crying in your cubicle today, just know you are not alone. It’s mental health awareness month. Not sure if those are correlated at all, but I do know that everyone and their dog is sad. Stay strong. I thought I was in a deep depression last week when I couldn’t get out of bed. Turns out it was just the flu in the Spring. Tragic.

You may be thinking, there are so many exciting things happening in the world right now, how could anyone be upset? But the truth is, I don’t care if Meghan Markle gives birth to a boy, a girl, or a ginger. Nothing from the UK excites me besides Simon Cowell. Once I found out I had the flu it was a bittersweet moment because I knew exactly what was coming. G-d had blessed me with time off from work to start Game of Thrones. Now I’m on season four and can’t stop talking like the Lady of Winterfell.

Watching GOT may have cured my depression/flu, but you don’t realize how many people you know that are struggling every day. Sometimes it’s good to keep a zodiac friend around because they can always give you a little insight. For example, over the weekend I yelled at an innocent bartender and told him he’ll never work in this town again. Afterwards, I felt guilty because all he did was put regular olives in my martini instead of stuffed. Luckily my horoscope friend told me there was a full moon so it really wasn’t my fault. Case closed.

Everyone uses different coping mechanisms. I live by the mantra that everything happens for a reason and will fall into place. Therefore, if that bartender loses his job over the whole olive altercation, chances are it needed to happen, and I probably just changed his life. He was most likely too scared to quit his job and apply to med-school or whatever—but now he can thanks to me. At least that’s what I tell myself to go to sleep at night.

If you’re depressed and don’t feel like seeing your annoying friends, listening to music can help. Usually, I like to put on a sad song, look out the window, and pretend I’m in a music video—but to each their own. I don’t get what all the hype is about BTS. If I wanted to see a bunch of Koreans dancing I’d go to literally any place that sells bubble tea. But people seem to love these K-pop boys, so if watching them on the Billboard’s floats your boat, then so be it. Just don’t get too comfortable at the award show. It’s all fun and games until Paula Abdul moves better at sixty than you ever will in your entire life.

What I don’t recommend is seeking comfort in a past relationship. I almost unblocked my psycho ex on Instagram—mostly because I couldn’t bear to lose a follower. Then I realized I could do what every millennial girl does after a break-up and post a bikini pic captioned ~living my best life~. Guaranteed ten new followers by morning. Let that man-go. That’s why the mango was created. A gentle reminder that some relationships are meant to stay in the past. Rather than hit up a crazy ex, just do what I do and drunk-text your therapist. Very rewarding. Very safe. Therapists never screen-shot. Screen-shots lose trust. Shout-out to HIPAA.

In other exciting news to cure your spring depression, the Met Gala just happened. The theme was “Camp” and I for sure thought it meant Camp Rock. Not quite. No JoBro in sight wearing Disney-print or holding the hand of leading lady Demi Lovato? Sounds lamer than weekend two at Coachella. Once I heard that I decided #MetCamp wasn’t for me. Would rather watch the Ted Bundy documentary. Zac Efron: 10/10 would let murder.

Remember, depression comes and goes. We all feel it. We all live it. All you can do is keep pushing forward….and like/subscribe to my blog. I heard that helps too but I don’t know I’m not a doctor.

 

Smile!