You know what I like? Pop music. Some of you may be judging me right now and, for that, I’m judging you in return. There is absolutely no legitimate reason to dislike Pop.  

The decision to publish an entertainment weekly was largely seen as an attempt by Gannett to take marketshare from altweeklies like CityBeat and similar papers in other cities. In non-industry speak, Gannett was trying to kill us.   

For participants in the 2012 Cincinnati Loser League, Sunday, Aug. 26 was a special day — we had our annual fantasy football draft, and it was more important than a lot of stuff.   

If a public figure’s name is trending on Twitter, you can generally assume one of the following: They just cut their hair (GASP!), updated their relationship status or died.   

When my daughter and I spent our first night together in the hospital, I gave her an extensive overview of what this life thing is all about. I began my lecture (it was a fairly one-sided conversation) with five essential words of advice: “Always be nice to people.”   

We, as humans, live in a capitalist society dominated by a perpetual quest for wealth, power and authority, and that authority undoubtedly yields corruption, poor taste and, sometimes, bad people who do bad things.  

Lately, I’ve felt stuck in this peculiar post-college limbo, one in which the novelty of thrusting myself into this post-21 world of fledglings has granted me steady access to a potion that makes social interactions almost effortless — the never-failing social lubricant that is alcohol.  

We, as humans, really love getting compliments. Next to free stuff, there are few things we appreciate more. Compliments make us feel like we’re special or have done something smart, even if it’s as simple as choosing an item from the fast-fashion store that ends up earning praise from an acquaintance. “I like that shirt,” she says, platonically. “Thanks, I got it at the mall,” we say, not at all sarcastically.  

A native, I’ve now had (ahem) approximately 40 years of experience watching how things go down in Cincinnati. And I remember at least 30 of them. More importantly, I’ve been able to see the evolution of Cincinnati’s society and culture. And recently it has felt like I’ve had a front row to that part of evolution where the monkey-man stands erect.   

Is it possible to get burned out on, or overwhelmed by, simple human interaction? My recent nightlife apathy stems from equal parts unwillingness and utter lack of motivation to take on the potential hours-long task of getting from Point A (leggings and hot rollers) to Point B (prettified and in a reasonable parking space). As the great Peter Gibbons said, “It’s not that I’m lazy, it’s that I just don’t care.” But I want to.  

Dear Close Male Friends: There have been times over the years when some or most of you entered into serious, sometimes long-term relationships. I believe I have been extremely patient with each of you, understanding that your respective significant other might be meeting various universal human needs and making your life better.  

In 300 years, when machines run the earth, our robot scientist overlords will be able to study our ancient society’s morals and taboos via what we allow and eventually embrace in pop culture.     

I’ve got a problem. Some call it a problem, at least. Personally, I prefer “fixation.” Better yet, a love. Passion. Interest. Civic duty, if you want to be fancy about it. Ask any of my former roommates; they’ll call it a compulsion. A quirk. The one descriptor they’ll use to sum me up to their next roommate. “God, she had this weird thing about recycling … drove me nuts.”    

Don’t talk about my car. You know how guests on “talk shows” like Maury or Jerry Springer will literally break a chair over someone’s head if they mention the former’s mother? That’s how I feel (internally, thus far) when others try to bring up my ride.  

A couple of years ago, I went through depressive funk that led me to withdraw from most social settings. I hermited away not only physically, but also cyberly. I’ve always suffered from some level of social anxiety; now, I was experiencing a kind of social-network anxiety that caused me to ultimately break up with my Facebook page.