35 Life Lessons I Learned before Turning 35

Posted on February 19, 2013 by Rob Pollak

1. There’s no cure for a hangover, but good Lo Mein comes damn close.

2. There are three things that are always worth the money: International travel, excellent food, and Blu Rays.

3. When you make a list of thirty-five things, don’t number the items until you’ve finished the whole list. That way, when you’re editing your list and realize number three is stupid, you don’t have to make up some ridiculous lesson to avoid renumbering the whole thing.

4. No matter how much your parents annoy you, piss you off, yell at you, or tell you that you need to wait before hitting your driver (even though the group in front of you is 400 yards away), they do it because they love you and want the best for you. Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way, but it’s true. Take a step back to see things from their perspective. It may help you appreciate why they do all that annoying shit.

5. When you get good service, tip more than expected. The few extra dollars won’t kill you and will mean a lot to the person who provided the excellent service.

6. Stop being scared. If there’s something you want to do but aren’t doing because you’re scared, suck it up and do it. The only things in life to truly fear are (a) stepping in dog shit, and (b) asking the one question that makes a public speaker take back the claim that “there’s no such thing as a dumb question.”

7. When you find a blog you like (like this one) go out of your way to tell the person (genius) that writes it (me) how great (best thing in the entire world) it is. Share the content with your closest friends (the whole world). You may think you’re being stalkerish (you probably are) by reading something that you think isn’t aimed at you (it probably wasn’t). But if someone took the time to create something and put it on the web, it’s because that person is an attention whore (and he will be happy to hear from you regardless of his initial intent). And attention whores crave lots of attention (from anyone). To be helpful, I drafted a template for you in case you decide to follow my advice:

Dear [ROB],
I know we last spoke at Hebrew camp in 1991, but I have been enjoying your blog since we reconnected when you spammed my facebook page. I especially liked your post about when lawyers can go home. You have an excellent command of logic and the handwriting of an armless nine-year-old blind child. I wish there were more people like you in the world. You also look trimmer than you did when you were 13. Well done! How did you manage to trick a beautiful intelligent woman into marrying you? I never would have expected that from you. I remember a time when you refused to play on the skins team in a shirts vs skins basketball game. Boy were you fat. I wish you well in the future. Here’s a few dollars. Buy yourself something nice. I learned about the importance of tipping from your blog.
Love,
[Mom]

8. Don’t believe anything the Mayans say. They keep predicting the end of the world, but they never get it right. I wish they would just go away already.

9. Anything that Tina Fey and Amy Poehler do together is funny. Women are funny. Deal with it old men. Here’s my favorite:

10. Three things that are never worth it: (a) Holding grudges, (b) extended warranties, and (c) super-sizing your meal.

11. Nothing good ever comes from drinking a beverage with an ä in its name.

12. Don’t be scared to request the vacation time you’re entitled to at work. Other people will tell you the “right way to go about vacation time.” Those people are assholes. If you’re in a job that doesn’t let you go on vacation, that job is stupid and you’ll burn yourself out. Vacation refreshes you to go back and do a good job. At least for the first 3-4 hours after it ends. Then you need another vacation on the books so you have something to look forward to.

13. Coleslaw is disgusting. Mistrust anyone who likes it. Unless it’s vinegar-based and atop a pulled pork sandwich. Then it’s majestic.

14. Be wary of anyone who likes some combination of the following teams: Lakers, Cowboys, Yankees, and Notre Dame.

15. Stop hating the foods you’ve hated since you were a kid. You might surprise yourself and find out that brussel sprouts are really good now. Most restaurants put bacon in them.

16. After two weeks of pure torture, exercise becomes amazing. If you don’t exercise now, commit for two weeks. Suck it up. Force yourself to do it. Whatever it takes. If at the end of two weeks, you don’t feel the pull to keep it up, then you can stop. But after one day of stopping, at least try to force yourself to do another two weeks. Keep repeating this until you realize how amazing you feel. If you don’t feel amazing after three tries, then stop eating all that fast food, idiot.

17. If you want to be a news anchor, realize that you have to spend years and years reporting from the coastline during natural disasters. Ask yourself: is it worth it?

18. Never set out to make a list of 35 things without thinking it through first. Thirty five is a lot. Even more than you think. By the time you get half way, you’ll probably regret your decision.

19. Have you ever seen a piece of fruit the color of a Maraschino cherry? That’s why you shouldn’t eat them.

20. Have you ever eaten a Maraschino cherry? They’re amazing. Sometimes just trust your instincts even though you know the consequences.

21. The Cosby Show holds up better than Seinfeld.

22. Proofread everything on more time than you think you have too.

23. If you do anything because you want other people to think you’re cool, stop doing that thing. That makes you a poser. Do things because you like to do them. That makes you interesting and awesome.

24. Trust your own taste in music, movies, and beer. Even though people will make fun of you for liking 4 non blondes, you still know What’s Up.

25. Resist the urge to Google the answer to every question. Yes, there is an objective answer to the question on Google, but sometimes it’s more fun to just see how it plays out. I know this because I always Google, and everyone hates me.

26. Say “yes” to pretty much any request, especially when it’s something easy like seeing a movie, attending a wedding, or supporting a friend. Your friends will appreciate you, your life experience will increase, and your comfort zone will continue to expand.

27. Make a prank call at least once a year.

27a. If you are the recipient of a prank call, laugh it off. No one likes the guy who thinks he’s above a little humor:

28. If a particular food gives you diarrhea, don’t ever eat that food again. No matter how good it tastes (the food, not the diarrhea).

29. Always give directions to those who ask or who look like they might need directions. If you have a few extra minutes, walk them to the destination and pretend you’re a college tour guide.

30. Try meditation. I thought it was stupid for the longest time. It can do amazing things if you give it a chance. If you think it’s stupid, you probably don’t know what it is. It can have nothing to do with religion or spirituality if that’s what you’re scared of.

31. People older than you don’t have it all figured out. They may speak with authority, but they mostly make it up just like you do. Most of them are full of shit. That said, listen to their advice. There’s a lot of wisdom in that shit.

32. The following things are fake: (a) emails from Nigerian princes, (b) the four hour work week, (c) Lance Armstrong, and (d) those funny autocorrects you read about on the internet.

33. Ignore the instructions on everything except crazy glue, hot sauce, and power tools.

34. If you can run three miles, you can run six miles. You may not think you can, and it may be painful and miserable, but you can 100 percent do it.

35. No matter how wise it seems, don’t trust any advice you get from the Internet.

(Note – This also appears on Elephant Journal. If you made it all the way down here, you might as well click this link and then follow me on Facebook!)

The top 10 times my dad got mad at me: Number 10 – The Watermelon

Posted on February 14, 2013 by Rob Pollak

In honor of Valentine’s Day, and in celebration of true love, I thought today would be a good day to share a few stories. Reader Ryan Driscoll asked, “Rob: When did your dad get the most mad at you?”

Great question, Ryan! Thankfully my dad never got as mad at me as he was at you when you stole a Chicken McNugget from my little sister. But there were certainly times when I did things to bring the ire of my father (aka the Gentle Giant).

(I don’t want to gloss over details, so I think these will work best as a top ten list over ten posts. Or this will be the only one I ever do. Who knows?)

10) The Watermelon

Each time my mom opened the stove to check on her honey mustard chicken, I watched the waves of heat ripple through the air and land on my ten-year old brow.

“It’s like a sauna in here,” I said, not having any idea what a sauna was.

My mom laughed. Nailed it. But things took a turn for the serious when she changed course. “Can you set the table, Sweetie?” she asked.

“Fine,” I said. But only because setting the table was my only responsibility in the world.

I opened the drawer to grab the utensils, but it was empty, so “setting the table” became “empty the dishwasher and set the table.” What bullshit. I thought through my options. I could try to trick my sister into emptying the dishwasher.

As if she was watching the inside of my brain, my mom moved first.
“Laura? Laura? Can you come down here and help with the chicken?” Before I could react, Laura was standing next to me, basting the chicken. I didn’t know the word “smug” at that time, but if I had, I probably would have said, “why don’t you wipe that smug smile off your face, you little bitch.”

I opened the dishwasher and, with the surgical precision that I learned from playing Operation, extracted exactly five plates, five knives, five forks, and five glasses.

“Robert,” my mom said, somehow stretching my first name into seven syllables.

“What?”

“You know.”

Before I could fight back, I heard the front door fling open. My dad stood there momentarily. He looked scary in his cutoff jean shorts and nothing else. Sweat raced down his face as he slammed the door shut and moved to his runner’s stretch. Of all the days for the air conditioning to conk out, this day was probably the worst.

Without a word, my mom somehow alerted him about my attempts to shirk my responsibility and manipulate my sister. He caught my eye and I knew I was done for. I grabbed the rest of the knives out of the dishwasher to try to regain some credibility.

“Where the fuck’s the air conditioner guy?” he said. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Hi dad, I missed you today.” I took a shot.

“Hey Bruiser.” He called me that during baseball games. I was in the clear.

“You want to help me set the table?”

He patted me on the head and caught eyes with my mom.

“I’m going to shower,” he said again.

He grabbed a paper towel from the table to wipe the sweat from his face and stomach. Instantly, it reappeared. He wiped again, then reached for one of the knives that I had laid out in my piles of five. He inspected it, scrutinizing each speck of water that the dishwasher left behind.

He pointed the tip of the knife towards my face and said, “I gotta shower. Just set the table.”

So I did. A few minutes later, we were sitting in silence eating the hot chicken in our hot kitchen as the stove radiated hot heat across our hot house.

“It’s like a sauna in here,” I said again. But this time, no one laughed.

My mom didn’t laugh because she was realizing I inherited my dad’s ability to run any joke in the ground. My dad didn’t laugh because he only laughed at jokes on the Honeymooners. My older sister didn’t laugh because she was 13 and hated everyone in the family. My little sister didn’t laugh because she didn’t understand jokes.

We finished eating. I refused to clear the table because I had set it. Rules are rules. I leaned back in my chair and watched my sisters do the dirty work.

As they cleared, my mom looked my way and asked, “Robert, can you get the watermelon out of the fridge?”

“Fine,” I said. Apparently I had earned nothing by setting the table. I took 30 seconds to march the 8 steps from the dining room table to the refrigerator. My insolence was rewarded with a blast of cold air from the fridge.

A lone yellow tupperware container sat on the top shelf, covered only by an ill-fitting sheath of plastic. The plastic cover made the hundreds of equally sized cubes of watermelon visible to the whole family. Each cube promising a brief reprieve from the hot.

I walked back towards the table. With each step, the watermelon juice sloshed back and forth in the tupperware. It reminded me of melted Jolly Ranchers. I could feel it sticking to my fingers through the plastic.

My dad said, “hurry up.”

So I started to scurry. But my mind was focused on imaging how many watermelon squares I could fit into my mouth at one time.

“You’re so annoying,” Lindsey said.

Laura smiled at me. That stupid smug smile.

“Come on, Robert.” My dad repeated.

I looked up to shut him up, but as I did, I caught my foot on the tile of the kitchen floor. The tupperware leapt from my hands and floated delicately towards the floor. It landed precisely on the flat bottom part, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

But a second later, the tupperware bounced back into the air and flipped itself upside down. Watermelon juice rushed onto the floor and filled the tiny crevices between the tile. Watermelon pits cracked off the ground, and then binded with the juice to become irremovable from the floor. Those perfect cubes splattered onto the ground and spread from room to room.

My dad exploded. “Oh great, Robert! Bring on the ants! Why didn’t you just call a parade of ants? You could be the grand marshal! Wouldn’t that be nice? If you could be the grand marshal of an ant parade?”

I froze.

“Get some paper towel already! Start cleaning it up already.”

But I couldn’t move.

I just stood there and watched as he got up out of his chair and did it himself. Glaring at me the whole time.

I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted some watermelon.

An Uncon-VENN-tional Use For Those Worthless LiveStrong Bracelets

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Uncon-VENN-tional use for LiveStrong bracelets

The 9 Rules Every Yoga Teacher Should Follow

Posted on January 16, 2013 by Rob Pollak

Nine simple things that every yoga teacher can do to make class a little bit more awesome.

Rule 1: Pay Attention to me!

Most yoga teachers really like yoga and also happen to be very good at it. These traits, however, do not mean that I’m taking your class to watch you be awesome. If that’s what I was seeking, I’d flip on your youtube channel. Please don’t forget the real, live, disgustingly sweaty people right there behind you. So, goddamnit, pay attention to us!

The best teachers strike a balance between showing off their mad skills and watching students struggle to get the little things right. They use their strength and ability to demonstrate or highlight certain aspects of a pose rather than to show off a one-handed side crow headstand that they’ve been working on in their Super-level 8 goddess class.

If I leave class thinking, “Wow, that teacher was sooo good at yoga,” then something went horribly wrong. I should walk by the treadmills on my way out of the gym thinking, “Wow, I am freaking awesome at yoga. Suck it, runners!”

Rule 2: Introduce yourself to your students:

Loyal readers of mine will remember that I’m working on introducing myself. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t introduce yourself to me first.

All it takes is a one second conversation in which the teacher comes over and says, “Hey, I’m [insert hippie name]. Have you done yoga before? Any questions? Namaste, bro.” Boom – Instant openness and camaraderie.

However, since we’re preaching mindfulness here, just remember to be mindful of your junk:

3. Ignore Anything You Weren’t Supposed to See.

Look, things happen in yoga classes. Like the time I saw the entire left ball of the guy practicing next to me. Or how every time I jump from a standing fold into a push up, my shirt flies up a little bit, exposing the lower portion of my back (aka the upper portion of my ass). Look, I realize that the teacher is going to see everything that’s going on down there. Maybe he or she will even give it a once or twice over to size me up. Totally cool. There’s just no need to draw attention to the fact that I’ve got a little hair down there. Or that my love handles make twisting poses slightly more difficult.

How about we just agree to keep a few things between us?

In other words, maybe the moment my naked back and partially naked ass are exposed is not the best time for you to do that adjustment. You know the one. It’s when you grab my hips and pull them back or rest your hand on the sweaty small of my back and push with all your might. Yeah, save that for my first down dog. Just before the sweating starts.

I suspect we’ll both be happy with that agreement.

4. If you’re gonna Om, Om loudly.

At first, I admittedly did not like chanting “om.” Now, I can tolerate it. Maybe sometimes it’s kind of nice. Oh whatever. You caught me. I like it. So what. This isn’t the place for judgment.

Listen up, teachers: If you’re going to start with an Om, then do so with gusto-mmmm. Trust me, the class will follow your lead. But if you are timid and mousy with your om, then guess what? Your class will be quiet and timid and self-conscious when they holla’ back.

Also — and this is admittedly quite selfish of me — I’m 100 percent tone-deaf, so if you say it loud and say it proud, then I can join in without others noticing that I am the discordant MF’er ruining spiritual bliss.

5. Remember my name and use it.

We’ve already agreed that introductions are key. Well, that’s the easy part. The hard part is remembering those names and then using them throughout class. A deftly timed “Nice job, Bikram,” or “Sweet crow, Baba,” or “Pull your hips back, Tara” really pulls those people into the class.

But surprisingly, even when the teacher refers to someone else by name, I find that I try harder.

I’m all, “I want that too.” “Hey look at me!” “Don’t you think my crow is good?” “I’m trying so hard over here, you guys!”

Even a “whoa, looking a little sweaty, Rob” wins me over. Or, if you want to ignore rule 3, I’ll even take an “I can see a little bit of your ass crack, Rob. Pull up your pants, you disgusting slob.”

6. Go easy on the Rumi, okay?

Oh wow, you studied at an Ashram in India! And then you memorized all of Rumi’s quotes? You don’t say! That’s amazing!!! Sincerely.

But you know who doesn’t even know what an Ashram is? Guess who never took English 101 in college and doesn’t understand “quotes”? Oh yeah, that’s right! This guy.

That doesn’t mean you have to give up on Rumi altogether. What it means is that you should feel free to explain things to me. Even the stuff that seem painfully obvious. Because when you say a quote and then say, “well that speaks for itself,” what I’m thinking is “No. That doesn’t speak for itself. I hate this stupid class. I don’t get it. Wah wah wah poor me.”

While I’m thinking that, I’m sitting there nodding my head pretending to look like I have the slightest clue what you’re saying. Then I start thinking, “Damn, I bet she smoked a tonnnnn of a pot in college. That’s so hot.”

7. Come On, Speak English.

For the first three months I practiced yoga, I mistakenly thought every Sanskrit word meant Savasana. For any non-yoga people reading this, Savasana is a made up word that literally translates to “lie on the floor while thinking about everything you were supposed to do today but didn’t.”

Yoga teachers of America, you know how to fix that problem? Just speak English. We all understand English (except the Latvian woman who sometimes comes to that Vinyasa flow class on Wednesdays), so everyone will be on the same page when you say “Do crow.”

An added benefit: You may avoid that tattoo in Sanskrit. The one you think means, “Peaceful Warrior” but actually means, “judgmental douchebag” Oops!

8. Be Considerate of Your Diverse Class When Giving Instructions.

So what if your class is usually all hot limber women? I’m here now, and I’d like to feel welcome, too! In order to make everyone feel at home, yoga teachers should give instructions that are mindful of the entirety of the class, not its largest component.

So no more “put this block under your bra strap,” or “you should feel a good stretch in your vagina.”

9. Make Class Fun!

This goes without saying, but if I’m having fun, I’m not thinking about how much I hate the teacher for all of the horrible painful things she’s making me do. So make it fun.

One incredibly easy way to make yoga more fun is by sharing this post with everyone you’ve ever met. And then following this blog at www.robpollak.com or on facebook.

(Selfish note: This also appears at Elephant Journal: Click the link so they will give me money)

How Yoga Cured My Anxiety, Laziness, and Intense Cynicism

Posted on January 11, 2013 by Rob Pollak

(Here’s my latest for Elephant Journal: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/01/how-yoga-cured-my-anxiety-laziness-intense-cynicism-rob-pollak/)

Three small ways Yoga helped me set attainable new year’s resolutions.

Before we get started, there are three things you should probably know:

My name is Rob (it’s nice to meet you);
Elephant Journal recently asked me to be a recurring contributor (I said yes); and
Today is January 11th (which, if you’re scoring at home, is a little late for a blog post about New Year’s resolutions).

Why do I care that you know three tidbits of information that on their face are completely uninteresting and mind-numbingly boring?

Because these three little statements represent a whole lot more. They represent a way for me to bring you inside this insane little head of mine. Only then can you start to understand how a few simple new year’s resolutions will help make 2013 epic, and how my new sense of yogic calm will provide me with tools to stick with them.

Resolutions used to be those stupid deals I made with myself at the beginning of the year but forgot by – oh, I don’t know – January 10th. But this year, when I say I’m bringing a yogic calm to my resolutions, what I mean is that I plan to do things that are meaningful to me, but also attainable. It means stepping out of my comfort zone but not so far that my goals become derailed by those inevitable little slip ups.

To start the year on the right foot, I’m throwing my old resolutions out the window.

Good bye, “lose 100 pounds.”

See ya later, “eat healthy.”

Suck it, “read the newspaper every day.”

Rot in hell “quit watching reruns of The Biggest Loser while binging on a ~~scoop~~ ~~bowl~~ ~~pint~~ gallon of Haagen Dazs” (Note – I didn’t even have to look up the spelling of that. Terrifying!).

This year, My resolutions all help make me a little more pleasant to be around. You’re welcome world!

Here are three of the goals that I’ve set and how I hope to meet them.

Resolution 1: Introduce myself more.

I sometimes describe myself as an outgoing introvert. When I feel comfortable in an environment, I don’t shut up. I’ll annoy you until you hate me. Kind of like I’m doing right now. Then, I’ll try so hard to win you over that eventually you’ll come around and start rooting for me. I’m like the kid from the movie Rudy — except without determination, athletic ability, or an overly jowl-y smile. My mixed level of confidence was apparent from a very young age:

But the truth is that despite that outgoing bravado, on the inside I am anxious and meek when confronted with a new group of people. I hope and pray that someone else will step up and take that first step of introduction.

Practicing yoga helped me realize this trait. When I first went to classes, I’d huddle in the back of the room, timidly balled up in the corner. There, I’d hope that the teachers would introduce themselves to me and relieve my nervousness. With my big ol’ belly, a cotton shirt, and a puddle of sweat at my feet, I felt like an outsider to the Lululemon catalogue occupying the other mats in the room.

But that’s a pretty bad way of living Who wants to talk to a timid sweatball? Exactly!

So I resolved to get better at introductions. You can’t introduce yourself to someone if you’re shy or timid. It might mean faking it, or playing out the conversation 1400 times in my head before it happens, but chances are, other people hate introductions too. By stepping up and taking initiative, I can not only make my life better, but I can also relive the anxiety and lameness of others.

Resolution 2: Say yes to more things.

A few ways I have been described:

Cynical
a hater
Mr. negative
Mr. negativity
Senor Negativo
super lame
annoying
annoyed
an a$$hole
Pessimistic
a glass half empty kind of guy
a glass totally empty kind of guy
a glassless guy
pudgy
A fun-hater
a mega-fun-hater
handsome.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, sometimes I have a bad attitude:

Well that’s all about to change! It’s time to get over those fun-hating, lazy, anxious ways. The anticipation of doing things is often worse than the actual doing of those things.

One way to get over my anxiety is to just start saying yes to more challenges and opportunities. By being more agreeable, I hope that taking possibilities into my own hands and trying to not let great opportunities slip through the cracks.

This actually reminds me of a yoga teacher who once shared an amazing inspirational quote. It was perfectly on point about this topic and completely changed my life and outlook on the world. If I remembered it, I would totally share it with you right now.

Oh! Got it:

“Every time an opportunity presents itself, take it; Otherwise, greatness will pass you by.”

– Some Famous Yoga Philospher

Okay, fine. I just made that up. But aren’t those great words to live by? I say yes.

Resolution 3: Commit to things and then finish them.

[note to self – insert paragraph explaining how I want to get better at finishing things that I commit to].

Rob Complains About Things

I plan to get famous via the internet.

Category Archives: Funny

35 Life Lessons I Learned before Turning 35

The top 10 times my dad got mad at me: Number 10 – The Watermelon

An Uncon-VENN-tional Use For Those Worthless LiveStrong Bracelets

Image

The 9 Rules Every Yoga Teacher Should Follow

Nine simple things that every yoga teacher can do to make class a little bit more awesome.

How Yoga Cured My Anxiety, Laziness, and Intense Cynicism

Three small ways Yoga helped me set attainable new year’s resolutions.

Resolution 1: Introduce myself more.

Resolution 2: Say yes to more things.

Resolution 3: Commit to things and then finish them.

Help make me famous:

Help make me famous:

Help make me famous:

Nine simple things that every yoga teacher can do to make class a little bit more awesome.

Help make me famous:

Three small ways Yoga helped me set attainable new year’s resolutions.

Resolution 1: Introduce myself more.

Resolution 2: Say yes to more things.

Resolution 3: Commit to things and then finish them.

Help make me famous: