… but enough about me

The thing about the internet is everyone is an expert, and everyone has great advice, and almost all of it is mostly “helpful.” But it can be hard to know just how (or who) you have to be to succeed.

Everyone knows we’re not naturally endowed to survive. We’re not good enough on our own. Are you kidding me? We need Lifehacker and that list of 10 places we must poop before we die, and … well, you won’t believe what this rapist said to his victim, and her response was so perfect, if this 10-second video doesn’t make you cry you have no pulse.

Before the internet, we were practically painting our cave walls with our own shit.

But the only way to keep one’s head from exploding from the choices is to make a few decisions every day. Take what works and forget about the rest. (Do you see how I’m giving you advice about advice? Stop me before I hurt myself.)

And you can almost do it at random — because, no matter what you choose today, you’ll be too distracted tomorrow by The Things That Matter to remember it anyway.

For example, I found this recent bit of advice to be indispensable. 

Jill Cooper’s method is a lot like my own — matching up the folded-over corners before attempting the lateral folds — but hers is easier and quicker, stuffing the corners into each other, making the whole piece much smaller, before you need a flat surface for the folding.

Thank you, livingonadime.com.

 Buy you know what doesn’t work for me? How to roll up my sleeves.

Nope.

I can see how you’re trying to enjoy your contrasting cuffs. It’s a noble attempt to create some kind of purpose for that precious detail. But, you know what? The resulting stripe across your bicep just looks like a mistake. I’m going to stick with my pedestrian two-and-a-half cuff roll and take my chances in the world.

Years ago, I thought we had reached the apex of prescriptive lifestyle claptrap with Queer Eye‘s “zhoozh,” but I saw soon after that I was quite wrong.

I mean, get a load of this smug kid and his apples.

I refuse to believe that the apple core is a myth. And even if I’m wrong, I’m totally OK with that. 

So, chalk one up for Miss Jill. And screw you, ruelala.com. And whoever you are, kid — you can eat your apples “like a boss,” and I’ll avoid getting the ovary membrane stuck between my teeth and passing seeds through my digestive tract.

But there are some bits of superfluous advice that become addictive. No matter how useless they are to me, I just can’t quit them.

For example, there’s this t-shirt-folding technique that I just cannot master, no matter how many times I try. I can disassemble and reassemble a toilet. I can sew new pockets into my pants. But heaven help me if I can fold a t-shirt.

Well, here … see what I mean?