Bulent Yusuf

Arrested development on a massive scale, otherwise known as “emerging adulthood”:

We’re in the thick of what one sociologist calls “the changing timetable for adulthood.” Sociologists traditionally define the “transition to adulthood” as marked by five milestones: completing school, leaving home, becoming financially independent, marrying and having a child. In 1960, 77 percent of women and 65 percent of men had, by the time they reached 30, passed all five milestones. Among 30-year-olds in 2000, according to data from the United States Census Bureau, fewer than half of the women and one-third of the men had done so. A Canadian study reported that a typical 30-year-old in 2001 had completed the same number of milestones as a 25-year-old in the early ’70s.

Admission: I’m not in my twenties anymore. But I’m close enough to that “golden era” (snicker). I, too, am guilty of dragging my feet on the path to being a grown up. 

1. M83 (30)
2. The Strange Death Of Liberal England (23)
3. The National (13)
4. Wild Beasts (11)
5. Amadou & Mariam (9)

Imported from Last.fm Tumblr by JoeLaz

Drink water. Lose weight. Simples.

A team led by Brenda Davy of Virginia Tech has run the first randomised controlled trial studying the link between water consumption and weight loss. A report on the 12-week trial, published earlier this year, suggested that drinking water before meals does lead to weight loss. At a meeting of the American Chemical Society in Boston this week, Dr Davy unveiled the results of a year-long follow-up study that confirms and expands that finding.

How does that old saying go? Ah yes, you can lead a horse to water…

A voice-actor trawls through an open-world videogame to find the character he played:

I hitched my horse and walked toward the local jail. Inside a prisoner lay in a rusty cell, a deputy napped in a chair, and still no sign of the Marshall. So I waited. And waited. Finally, I heard footsteps along the creaky floor behind me, and just like that, there he was. Standing before my very eyes, Marshall Leigh-Motherfucking-Johnson. Strong and weathered with a tarnished, pixelated star on his barrel chest, a little taller, and dare I say, more handsome than I had imagined. I felt actual nausea.

Say something you crusty son of a bitch. Speak!

He did.

“Well what do we have here?” he asked.

The controller went limp in my hands. My heart sunk.

It wasn’t me.

To date, the actor is still looking. Someone at Rockstar Games should put him out of his existential angst and send him a showreel.