I had first met Lily a few years ago at a friend’s birthday party. She had on this bright yellow dress, and when the light hit it just right it was almost translucent. She was turning the heads of every sexually forgotten man at the party.

I once had a second cousin with acute mental retardation who pleasured herself in public. It was near impossible to reprimand her, as she didn’t quite understand social norms and conventions, and therefore couldn’t see the fault of her action. Thus she’d go on rubbing it out wherever she became aroused – whether in the privacy of her bedroom or the not-so-private living room during a family gathering.

Mix tapes are love letters. (When’s the last time you got one of those? You’re welcome.) And while I’m not trying to fuck you, this mix WILL get you laid. Fact. If this doesn’t happen–and I don’t mean to sound like your father–you’ve somehow managed to screw up a sure thing. At least your failure came with a rad soundtrack.

If you’re relaxing in a treehouse somewhere in Los Angeles, stop what you’re doing immediately: the Department of Building and Safety is charging you with a felony and coming to remove your treehouse at once. It is dangerous, and you cannot be trusted to play on your own.

The World Cup is over. Damn. Got to get back to real life. But first, a recap of the 2010 World Cup’s most defining moments: the good, the bad, the ugly and the beautiful.

That’s what the Green movement does best: force feed us guilt. It’s all a clever marketing ruse that uses guilt as its vessel to sell products. “Not buying organic lettuce today sir? Yeah, have fun singlehandedly torching rainforests.”

This particular poem was written after returning from Israel. It was inspired by my 10 day love affair that took place while in the holy land. Each metaphor is symbolic of specific happenings that took place between he and I. “Going slightly mad” means falling in love for the first time.

We shared an unjustifiably emotional hug and wished each other a good festival and right then and there it hit me; it sounded so much like Shabbat Shalom that I couldn’t help but realize that between the hands, the music, the lights, the one man conductor, it was starting to feel a lot like Temple (or at least the way Temple should be).

On March 12, 2010, 23 year-old Jacob De-Monte Finn and his 19 year-old brother Gabriel set off on a five-month, 2,100 mile personal odyssey to conquer the Appalachian Trail. In the coming months, Serious ‘Stache will feature exclusive firsthand accounts documenting this unique, once in a lifetime endeavor. The following is the first installment in Jacob’s own words.

I’ve long considered myself a soothsayer of sorts, but so far, I’ve revealed this only to my mom and my cats. I recently decided that no longer must I keep this gift from the world, so from time to time I’ll be here reviewing things that have not yet happened.