I’m working on a rudimentary theory that if you take something that is either boring or upsetting and add baked goods it becomes better. My case:
Stress sucks. But stress-baking? Awesome.
Sleep-walking is annoying. Sleep-baking? Awesome.
Class is lame. Baking class? Awesome.
Birthdays are fun. Birthday cake? Awesome.
Walking is boring. Cake walk? Awesome.
Cups are lame. Cupcakes? Awesome.
Pans are useful. Pancakes? Awesome.
Fights are hurtful. Cake fights? Awesome.
Milk is okay. Milk and cookies? Awesome.
Cookies are nice. Cookie cakes? Awesome.
Funerals are sad. Funeral cakes? Okay, my theory might end here.
Or does it?
The Internet is a wonderfully complex organism. It thinks. It responds. It knows what you are looking for in a potential mate. But most importantly, it likes to recommend things for you.
In this era of smart technology, I’ve come to expect a lot from social media websites. I expect them to know what brands I like, what politics I preach, and what Twitter followers I’d most likely follow. This expectation crosses all social media platforms. And I feel like most have a fairly accurate opinion of who I am – except for YouTube.
Below is a screenshot of some of YouTube’s recommendations for me this morning:
1. One of my current Broadway obsessions is the musical adaptation of Matilda. Kids rocking out like Spring Awakening? Good work, YouTube.
My Nerd Points: 20
2. I’m subscribed to Emma Blackery’s channels (she’s one of the many YouTubers I follow from across the Pond). Two points: YouTube.
My Punk Points: 10
3. I have no clue what this is. But it disturbs me. And is Emo Dad an actual web series? And why am I being recommended the finale of this show? Minus one point: YouTube.
My Emo Points: 5
4. Now I’m trying to think of what I have watched in the past that might make YouTube think I’m one of “those” people who are in the REAL Apocalypse Shelter market. Wait. Am I one of “those” people? Excuse me while I have an identity crisis. Minus one point: me.
My Gun Toter Points: 25
5. Apparently YouTube thinks I’m dying to know what’s next in the world of Soaps. My question: is the girl in the picture “the bold” or “the beautiful?” I am now intrigued. Minus one point: me.
My Cat Lady Points: 15
6. Everything about the title of this video confuses me … First up on #TableTalk: what happens to you when you die? And after you’ve given yourself a complex, let’s talk about your dating life.
My Cat Lady Points: 25
7. I don’t think I want to watch The Dirty Old Greek Man do anything. Unless it’s a deleted scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding, because I’m on that like dirty old clothes on a greek man.
My Possible Unabomber Points: 10
I’m not sure if it’s me or them, but the folks at YouTube HQ must think I’m weird. That or a cat-owning, show-tune-singing doomsday-prepper. But then again, is it possible they me better than I know myself? Maybe I need to stop questioning their recommendations and start watching them. For all I know I’ll like Emo Dad. But probably not.
“sPEEkeasy”
The Inspiration:
No one likes portable toilets. They are a necessary evil – especially when you’ve just downed a 24 oz. Diet Coke in the middle of a packed city festival. Why are they so gross??? Despite the fact that you are essentially sitting on an open septic tank, portable toilets are just downright dirty. I can always count on the inside being humid, hot, and a complete mess. Who are the people who decide to moisten the walls? Who is the guy that thought toilet paper made good carpet? These are some of life’s unanswered questions. However, no matter how hard we try to “hold it, we couldn’t live without these public outhouses.
The Invention:
So, how can we make portable toilets more desirable, bearable, and – dare I say – sought after? That’s easy – make it a speakeasy. Speakeasys were all the rage during Prohibition and are making a comeback today. So why not spread this concept to the porta-potty?
These exclusive water closets could be scattered throughout the grounds … To enter, you must know the password. To get the password, just download the mobile app. You must fill out an online questionnaire (for research purposes) and sign a statement saying that you promise to keep the speakeasy as clean as possible. Then, you become one of the “bathroom elite.” (Who knows? You could even “get in line” online when you’re on the other side of the event.) In order to access the facility, simply hold your mobile phone to the door and press the button on the screen. After you do your business, you can rate your experience. Most importantly, if the person before you left the place a mess, their membership will be revoked. Exclusivity saved for the social responsible.
Porta-potties are never going to go away – but we can at least begin to take responsibility for their presence in our community or at communal events. And maybe, we’ll stop dreading them so much.
I write a lot of poetry,
That nobody will ever see,
Because a little part of me,
Is afraid they’ll say it sucks.
Haley Robinson 