If you have a spare moment today, I suggest you send a text to 57251 with a phrase like “send me X” where X is anything you can think of. The response will come from the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, and it will be awesome.
If you have a spare moment today, I suggest you send a text to 57251 with a phrase like “send me X” where X is anything you can think of. The response will come from the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, and it will be awesome.
Last week I got an email that had just about everything, starting with time travel:
The message is from Hinge, a dating app that shows you profiles of people who are connected to you in some way through your Facebook network. They show you a few profiles a day, you say yes or no, and if you both say yes then you can chat.
I haven’t used this app since March, but apparently Future Me really wants me to talk to Anne.
How far in the future was this written? I feel like that’s a crucial piece of information for Current Me to know. If it’s only a few weeks from now, that’s less compelling than 98-year-old me imploring me to act.
Also, worth it in what way, Future Me? Is this a love connection or do I get a really good deal on a timeshare through knowing her? DOES SHE OWN A TACO BELL?
I sure hope Future Me is way in the future, because man the end of the email is not cool:
And that capitalization. Come on, Future Chris.
Oh there’s another issue too. This message included a picture, which, well, shows Anne standing rather next to a gentleman in a way that suggests her status is not exactly single:
So Future Chris, please follow up with clarifications on these issues.
Online dating involves looking at a lot of profiles, and after a while certain commonalities make them all blend together.
I can’t tell you the number of women who are looking for a partner in crime, work hard and play hard, and have an affinity for the phrase “live, laugh, love.” So it’s especially refreshing when there’s a detail in a profile or conversation that comes out of left field.
During the past few weeks I’ve tried to remember to screenshot a few of these as I come across them. Perhaps my favorite is the woman who bragged about her ability to excel at breakfast time:
Sometimes it’s best to get the important questions out of the way to test compatibility before you invest too much time. First part, great, second part, oh boy:
The “You Should message me if” section is one where a lot of the cliches live, so imagine my joy when I came across this final sentence:
Oh and this one:
If you are not aware, ReBoot was an awesome show that graced our lives when I was a kid. Get educated.
Back to contemporary computer life. Profile pictures commonly include some sort of hiking shot or, in a shocking number of cases, skydiving. Emus are not common:
At work I have to write all units of measurement in metric, so when a Canadian messaged me, it was only natural that I described my distance from DC in terms of kilometers. Very nice to have my efforts appreciated!
Also, the Canadian knows about ReBoot, so bonus points.
Finally, the deal-breaker of all deal-breakers:
You should know better than to talk about Natalie like that.
I learned two things this past Valentine’s Day.
First, if you tweet about why you’re single (joining the trending hashtag #WhyImSingle), a company may take that as a marketing opportunity and offer you something.
@cjhannas You know what goes great with a good book? The cozy #TempurLove pillow we’re sending you. #BookWormsRule pic.twitter.com/wT6y3xROa5
— Tempur-Pedic (@TempurPedic) February 13, 2015
I fired off several of these gems, such as, “I don’t like bacon” and “I explain things with, ‘So there’s this episode of The Simpsons…'” But only one got love from the fine folks at Tempur-Pedic.
The second thing I learned, thanks to them, is that there is such a thing as a “Limited Edition 2015 Valentine’s Day Pillow.” I sincerely hope there’s someone in America who collects one from each year like Hess trucks.
This thing arrived at my door the other day, bringing my Tempur pillow collection up to two. See that, corporate America, you were rewarding someone who already uses your product! You already got my money!!! Whatever, these pillows are freaking awesome. There, you’re welcome.
So what makes a pillow special for Valentine’s Day? Um, maybe the heart that’s stitched on there?
I imagine that while I’m sleeping that heart pulses out loving vibes like that Care Bear with the heart on his chest. (I just did more research than a 31-year-old male should do on this topic and his name is Tenderheart Bear.)
So I think the lesson here is that being single and using Twitter can be lucrative. Take that, couples with other things to do!
Happy cuddling.
Sometimes it’s nice to know you can still connect with today’s youth. It keeps you feeling young as the days since high school add up, boats against the current.
If you want an insight into what kids are thinking, check out the app Yik Yak, which allows people in a certain area to post and view anonymous comments. People can upvote or downvote them, giving you a greater sense of what is popular with the largely teen/college crowd. A few weeks ago my friend asked me about it, which led to a download, scrolling through posts, and deciding I wanted to craft a message that would get 10 upvotes.
Things started slowly. I was a bit humbled by the fact that this wasn’t wildly successful:
I mean, Taco Bell AND emojis?! What more do you kids want? I regrouped and went after a different strategy:
Better…better…
Then I thought about the times I’ve seen someone tweet something like, “If this gets 100 likes I’ll run on the field” at whatever game they’re attending. I took that, combined it with food, and posted this beauty:
Success!!! Though in the comments people called me a jerk. Pretend me is okay with that. It actually took many hours for this one to get past 10 upvotes, so I kept posting in the mean time with a real focus on hitting the college market.
That drama-soaked piece also took a while to get much support at all. Then I got really inspired. I thought about everything people want and need and tapped into the very desire of their soul:
The comment on that one? “Ew who would even eat that pizza?” I’ll tell you who, Mr. or Ms. Anonymous, some fictional rando girl who liked my swag! Oh, and 32 other Yik Yak users!
With that momentum, I continued spitting virtual pretend fire with a focus on nearby George Washington University users:
I mean, forget college, that isn’t the world any of us signed up for. Give these kids puppies and ice cream and watch their GPAs shoot up. Or down. However that would go. Whatever just make them happy.
Already wildly successful with my mission, I went back to the virtual keyboard with one last bit of inspiration:
Chipotle, if you’re reading, let’s make 24-hour locations a thing. The people want it.
The next time you’re thinking of taking a trip, I invite you to fly into Eli Manning Airport.
You may be thinking, “Wait, there’s no airport named after Eli.” You would be right. But tell that to my fake Russian ex-girlfriend.
Last year I got intentionally catfished by someone on a dating site who claimed to be a girl in Russia. “Olga” never asked me for money, frequently got angry if I didn’t respond quickly, and the whole thing fizzled out after a month.
Well, I did it again. This time for a little over three months, during which the new girl, Anastasiya, sent me a solid 60 emails. She started slow, telling me that she did not want to rush into anything and that she “very much want to meet the true love.”
Anastasiya told me that men in Russia are not interesting in settling down and taking care of a girlfriend.
“They like more to have a good time, live fast,” she said.
On day nine, she told me a story about her boyfriend of 18 months cheating on her with her roommate. Right in front of her. Then she apologized for telling such an unpleasant thing, but explained that she didn’t want to hide anything from me.
Almost all of her emails came with a picture that had the general attitude of, “Oh hey there, I’m just being all casual over here.”
On day 9 she asked for my picture, which I never sent. Fast-forward to day 24 when she recounted how she was discussing me with her friend:
“I him have told about our letters as we to understand each other and that at us with you much in common,” she said. “I to show them your photo, I to unpack it and now at my place there is you pic.”
I didn’t challenge her on the fact I hadn’t actually sent a photo. Maybe she drew a picture of how she imagined me? After all, I was clearly on her mind all the time. The next day, she told me of a dream in which we were at the beach and ran into each others arms. There was a kiss. “It was divine,” she said.
Our relationship was on the super fast track. Just like with Olga, it took only about a month for Anastasiya to fall in love with me:
“I very much want that we were together,” she said. “Now I am possible to give in dreams, but these are fine dreams and I trust that dreams come true also I will try to make all for this purpose. I love you…… I hope that my letter will give to you many fine emotions this day.”
The finest. She told me again the next day that she looked at my (imaginary) pictures above her bed every night before going to sleep. A week later, she first broached the idea of us seriously meeting, saying she would go to a local travel agency and see what we needed to do. She also sent me “millions of air kisses,” which I can tell you may sound nice, but are really exhausting to have to catch.
Day 38: disaster. Anastasiya went to the travel agency and learned she would need $710 for documents in order to travel to the United States. She only had $120. Naturally, I offered to support her in any way I could, and her tears quickly turned to elation. All she needed from me was the name of my local airport in order to find out how much the flight would cost.
At this moment, I actually had 1 percent doubt in the back of my mind that made me picture some poor woman sitting at JFK waiting to be picked up by Fred (the name I used). So I figured if I made up a fake airport, and she went on like it was normal, I would know for certain that she was simply trying to get a money transfer and not actually travel here.
Thus, Eli Manning Airport, which was funny enough when I wrote it, but seeing her reference it brought on some serious LOLs.
“I told them the name of your airport,” she wrote. “They said that the cheapest ticket from Moscow to your airport will cost 728 dollars. I told them that this is your airport , Eli Manning airport. Fred So my whole trip will cost to you . 1318 dollars.”
The travel agency apparently told her to go visit the bank, which in turn advised her that I should use Western Union to send her the money. “Fred have you heard about this company?”
On day 53, Anastasiya went Olga on me. I hadn’t responded for three days, and apparently that’s not okay when you’re madly in love.
My bad. Lucky for her, I had good news! I told her I went to Western Union and sent her almost double the amount of money she needed. I included a 10-digit confirmation number (obtained from an online random number generator), which shockingly didn’t seem to correspond to a Western Union transaction.
“Fred , They told me that this translation does not exist. I have long argued with them, but they said that nothing can not do.”
I replied that I didn’t understand the problem, and sent her a receipt, which was literally this picture, at this size:
When she said it was impossible to read, I told her it worked fine for me and suggested there was a problem with the computer she was using. After a few days of back-and-forth, we reached the end of the second month with me announcing that I had talked to Western Union, and they were willing to give me a new receipt.
But then we hit a snag. I told her that when I went back to get the new paperwork, I was given a notice that my transfer had been DENIED and was being investigated by the authorities. “PLEASE TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON,” I wrote. Anastasiya has ice water in her veins. She was not phased by such silly inconveniences.
“Fred I know why it happened, I know why they refused to help you. Maybe their boss confines send from your country to Russia so much money , because our countries are not the best relationship. Fred , I just went to the office of Western Union, and they said that such a situation as we have often happens.”
Totes not a big deal, Fred. She said her Western Union people advised that I should split the transaction up into two smaller ones to have a better chance of it slipping through. I expressed unease, telling her that every day the authorities were giving me more information that made me doubt her: “You need to convince me you are genuine before I can continue loving you.”
Her response? WHAT.EVS. “Now I do not even know if I want to come to you,” she wrote. “Now’s not the money . Now the whole thing in our relationship with you.” However, a few days later (day 65), she assured me again that everything will be cool if we just persevere. She said many girls from her town had come to the U.S., including one who works for the police now and assured Anastasiya that she and I will not have any problems.
For the heck of it, I asked her to take a picture holding my name and to see a copy of a contract she had gotten from the travel agency, you know, so I could make sure she wasn’t getting ripped off or anything. She sent both.
The contract was, not surprisingly, all in Russian. I do not speak Russian. I do have a couple of friends who do, and they were pretty excited to translate for me. Of course, the one thing I did not need translated was the name of her destination:
My friend Anastasia (note the different spelling) told me the travel agency is called Flamingo Tourism and “doesn’t, uh, seem to exist.” Another friend, Margarita, read it and said, “If honest, it says nothing concrete…nothing at all. No dates when the contract was signed.” She also said the amounts referenced were $710 for documents and now only $590 for airfare.
I told Anastasiya I went back to Western Union, had no problems with the transaction this time, and got a new receipt:
As you can see, I spent about three minutes in Photoshop altering a receipt from an Italian guy I found online. She told me she went to Western Union, and again, shockingly, was unable to get the money. She even had the audacity to question why parts of the receipt are dated 2011 instead of 2014.
This is where our relationship came crumbling down. On day 82 I told her that I didn’t understand why all of this was such a hassle. “I’m not saying you’re lying about the problems,” I said, “but you are the one who said to use this service and it has been nothing but problems.”
Day 83, Anastasiya: “Don’t know why you think I could decieve you.”
Day 84, Fred: “Lies on lies on lies.”
Day 85, Anastasiya: “Fred you BASTARD. I quit my favorite job because of you…maybe you cheated on me.”
A few days went by, but the situation did not improve.
Day 87, Anastasiya: “Fred, you do not know anything about my love. Once again, I was convinced that all men only want money alcohol and entertainment.”
Day 87, Fred: “Um, I never asked you for any of those things. It was you who asked me for money.”
At this point I was pretty done with our “relationship,” so I didn’t respond. A week later, she wrote to me again.
“Hello my Fred. I have not received emails from you. How are you? I always look forward to your letter. I miss you and still think about how we’ll be together.”
I briefly considered going in for another round, but a nap seemed like a better idea. My only response to her was, “I’m fine, how are you?” Three days later she sent her final message.
“Hello Fred, I have all the old. I returned to my job. There is nothing new in my life happens. I’m still all alone and did not find a man for herself. Fred, Maybe you found a girl for yourself? Will tell me about it.”
I told her I had in fact found a girl, and after 99 days a love for the fairytale books came to an end.
People like baseball. People like a little movie called “Frozen.” Put them together and you get a lot of interest.
A few days ago the video-sharing service Vine introduced a wonderful feature that shows you how many times your little 6-second video has been played. Before that, all you knew about its popularity was how many times someone commented or hit the like button.
I haven’t posted a ton on Vine, but now with the loop count I can tell you that a lot of them get something like 20 plays. This one from the postgame fireworks at Nats Park last night was slightly more popular thanks to being retweeted on Twitter:
It got about 80 plays in the first eight hours.
But there was another post in late April that really blew my mind once I saw the count. I posted a snippet of Zach Walters using “Do You Want to Build a Snowman” as his walkup music. It’s been picked up EVERYWHERE, including that night by the Washington Post. Seriously, do a Google search for “cjhannas frozen” and see how many stories it’s in.
The result of all that exposure, plus being re-posted by 1,000 other Vine users and shared on Twitter plenty of times?
More than 575,000 views as of right now since I posted it April 22. It’s pretty safe to say that’s the most popular social mediaing I will ever do.
Unless of course I get super famous and then do something scandalous, all of which sounds like too much work. So I’ll just do stuff like this:
Songza has playlists for all kinds of things – Waking Up Happy, Drinking at a Dive Bar, Every ‘90s Summer Dance Party – but really there may be nothing better than ‘00s #1 Hits for inducing YES! moments (real or sarcastic) when a new song pops up.
Remember Oregon Trail? If you’re anywhere close to my age, this game was pretty much the greatest thing to happen to your educational experience.
I was thinking about it the other day and thanks to the Internet I was able to find a way to play. I thought I had what was a good crew when we set out, but I quickly learned that my party was not the most ready to make the grueling trip.
We have me leading the way, the perfect sidekick in Milhouse Van Houten, my roommate MkLovin, actress Anna Kendrick for her small yet entertaining ways, and traveling music courtesy of Norah Jones.
As a refresher, here’s where we’re going:
We set out on April 1 with 1,100 pounds of food and high spirits all around. But like a Real World cast that finds drama as soon as possible, it took exactly three days for our first major problem to arise:
Dammit, Milhouse! I had immediate regrets about bringing him along, but surely a broken leg isn’t the end of the world right?
DAMMIT, MILHOUSE. To recap, he broke his leg on day three and died on day four. Not a good omen. But hey, more food and clothing for the rest of us! We got back on the trail and made it across a river, only to have to stop for a day to dry out our stuff. And then…
What is going on with this journey? Are we playing tackle football around the campfire at night? Fortunately, Anna’s leg healed and we went three solid weeks before she got sick and our collective health dropped to “fair.”
Wait, a fire in the wagon? I would think Milhouse would have been capable of such stupidity, but the kid is no longer a part of this brain trust. At least all we lost was stuff and everyone is waking away healthy.
Tough getting a snakebite right before Independence Day. He might have to skip the fireworks and hang out in our charred wagon. The rest of our July was pretty quiet, except for an ox injury. Then the August of Norah Jones’ discontent began:
Typhoid Norah, huh? No worries, I think she can get through this okay and have a long, productive, happy life. Pause on Norah for a second. It seems there are criminals along the route:
Way to get away with the important stuff! Hope you enjoy those sweaty shirts. We haven’t seen a laundromat this whole time! Back to Norah:
Strong — typhoid, now a fever. What’s next, a broken bone for her, too?
Okay, okay, we’ve had a few of those on the trip already and only one of those people died. I’m optimistic she’s going to bounce back.
DAMMIT, NORAH. Are you receiving vials of disease samples from the government every time we stop? This is getting ridiculous. Maybe it would be better if you weren’t on the trip.
The game doesn’t explain the circumstances of this death, and it’s best for all if nobody asks questions. #SnitchesGetStitches. With Norah gone, we can finally move forward with the relatively healthy three of us who remain.
Come on, Anna! A second broken leg? Are you made of glass? If you’ll recall, we don’t have a great track record of treating broken legs.
I hate to say I told you so, but…I kinda told you so. Whatever. The weak links are gone, time for MkLovin and I to close out this trip.
Exhausted from what, sitting in a wagon while oxen pull you to your destination? I’m not giving you a break on this one. You need to work just as hard as the rest of the crew, aka me, until we get there.
It’s possible this journey suffers from poor leadership. I mean, I don’t want to blame myself, but all four of my traveling companions died after having stupid injuries. I guess if I’m all alone, I might as well enjoy the spoils of rationing for one.
Filling it is! With just one person in the wagon and consuming the stockpile of food at a fast rate, it took only five more days to reach our/my destination.
If only the rest of my crew could have seen such a lovely sight. Next time I’ll choose a more travel-worthy group. I wonder if The Rock is available.
After reading this history of AOL’s Instant Messenger program, naturally my thought was, “I wonder what it looks like if I sign in today?”
My next question, “What are the chances I remember my password?”
AIM was the ubiquitous online thing during my late high school years and certainly through college. Asking if someone was on AIM then was like seeing if they have Facebook now. At any time of the day, you could log on and see the icon of that little yellow AOL guy next to a screenname chosen by one of your friends and fire off a message to chat with or bother them.
But that was a long time ago. After nailing my password on the first try (real useful info to keep stored in that brain of yours, Chris), I was a little surprised at what I saw:
I have friends! Online! TWO of them!!!
Granted, they have those little phone icons and not the “I’m online just like you!” yellow guys, but still. I sent a message to PATMAN04, my brother, who told me he set up AIM years ago to just text him when someone sends him an IM:
Why yes, yes I was. For helenafalz, I used SnapChat to send her a picture of my buddy list, and her response made it clear she probably last logged in roughly when I did:
Now, of course, it’s so easy to get in touch with anyone you want at any time, whether through texting, gchat, Facebook or any number of apps, like SnapChat. However, none of them will ever have the fully satisfying experience that came with AIM’s sound effects:
Long live AIM.
