— TheAndrewMiller.com

Sorry, I’ve been a little busy at work. That’s a running theme right now, which is awesome. Busy is good in the marketing world. And luckily, I’ve been made busy with some really fun projects.

Most recently, I spent Memorial Day weekend at the Coca-Cola 600 at Charlotte Motor Speedway. Before the race, we helped coordinate a media event featuring model/actress Brooklyn Decker and Danica Patrick. (Do I have to describe her as “driver Danica Patrick” or is that like writing “liquid water”?)

As you can see by the video, Patrick showed Decker the ins and outs of a proper pit stop as national media looked on. Things went really well, which is great, because we had some of the most important people from Coca-Cola North America there in attendance. Pressure much?

Anyway, I know I fell off my blog game for a minute, but work comes first. Sleep is slotted around No. 5. Blogging is, I don’t know, No. 9? Eating is No. 2 or 3…

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I have never read Where The Wild Things Are, though I understand its significance and  realize for many kids it was the first book they ever read and loved.

I bring it up because Maurice Sendak, author and illustrator of the book, died today. He was 83.

There was a particularly sweet line in his New York Times obituary:

“Roundly praised, intermittently censored and occasionally eaten, Mr. Sendak’s books were essential ingredients of childhood for the generation born after 1960 or thereabouts, and in turn for their children.”

I decided today I’m saving Where The Wild Things Are for when I have a kid.

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I ran the longest distance of my life today — 6.34 miles. That’s barely half of a half marathon, which is my target distance by the end of summer. Still, it felt great to push myself farther than I ever have before. You can see by the graph above I actually hit my fastest pace during the last mile.

How am I feeling? I have a heating pad on my back and a bottle of Michelob Golden Draft at my side. Beth is in the kitchen whipping up a batch of green chicken curry with rice. This might be the meal that saves my life.

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Since I started running a few months back, I’ve really gotten into electronic dance music (EDM) — specifically, dubstep. There’s something different about it, something cunning and bold.

Michael Rapino, chief executive of Live Nation Entertainment, recently told the New York Times, ““If you’re 15 to 25 years old now, [EDM] is your rock ‘n’ roll.”

Well, I’m 27. But I concur.

EDM is the only truly exciting genre in music right now. Maybe it’s because every last lyric has been written or you can only listen to rap and rock ‘n’ roll overtures so many times. I don’t know. But when I hear something EDM – like “Breakn’ a Sweat” from Skrillex – I get excited. No matter how many times I hear it, it gets my heart pumping. No other music can do that.

For those who thinks EDM is just an arrangement of blips and beeps and a laptop is not a musical instrument, take three-and-a-half minutes to see and hear what it’s all about.

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By far, the best educational experience of my life came from my five years at the campus newspaper while I was in college. And that’s also probably why it took me five years to graduate college.

Sad news yesterday from the USA Today. You think community newspapers are struggling? You should see how bad college newspapers are hurting. Advertisers are losing interest in these niche publications, which, at their best, reach a highly influential demographic that typically influences style, trends and general cultural relevance. You win with the college kids, you’re brand is going to be sitting pretty.

I’ve long said if I ever strike it rich I will make a hefty donation to my old college newspaper, The Reporter, at Minnesota State University, Mankato.

I just hope the paper lasts until then.

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It was 46 degrees and rainy at Richmond International Raceway on Saturday. So, that’s me in the red jacket in the background, freezing my ass off, ready to cry. I’m sure there was audible whimpering at some point.

I’ may not be tough enough for NASCAR.

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Well, after eight weeks of pushing myself a little farther each run, practicing portion control and learning to love microwaveable meals, I have lost 23 pounds and now weigh an even 200.

Methodology has been simple:

1. Limit daily caloric intake to 1,500 or less
2. Burn calories 4-5 days per week by running 3-6 miles in the morning

That’s it. No shakes, no powders, no witchcraft. (Though I have been taking 2400 mg of B12 each day. I swear it’s ramped up my previously idle metabolism.)

There’s no stopping now, though. I’m shooting for 190 this summer and I’d like to weigh in for my October wedding at a healthy 185.

Anyway, just wanted to update y’all. (Mostly you, Mom and Grandma.)

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We live nearby a shopping center they call The Quarry, which includes a Rainbow Foods grocery store, Home Depot, Famous Footwear, Petsmart and Target. In one fell swoop, you can pick up lunch meat, lumber, clogs, kibble and a new outfit.

It’s one-stop shopping at it’s best, but it means squirming through throngs of humanity like you’re inching toward the front row at sold-out Prince concert. Try shopping at the Rainbow on a Sunday and you’ll reconsider the pros and cons of starvation as you’re sitting 12th in line at the automated check-out amid a chorus of beeps and sighs. It’s a disappointing way to live.

We’re making chicken parmasean tonight — chicky chicky parm parm — but instead of using regular noodles, we’re using spaghetti squash because it’s delicious and nutritious. (It was $6.57 compared to the more traditional $0.99 box of angel hair, but hey!) Rainbow and Target do not carry spaghetti squash, so I just shopped at the neighborhood co-op for the first time.

About that.

Why do co-ops insist on being so co-opy? If you’ve ever been to one, you know what I mean.

How can a co-op boast about local produce in one aisle, then tout its Nepalese footwear the next aisle over? Be local and international? Make up your mind. Your ethos is confusing.

And the nauseating smell of patchouli? Have you ever in your life heard someone say, “Damnit, what is that delicious odor in my nose?! Is that patchouli! I could chew on roots and sniff patchouli all day!”

The literature table is great, too. You know, located near the doorway with all of the pamphlets and brochures, all of society’s issues addressed through tri-fold publications. Literature for whatever ails you. Literature surely conceived and written by my liberal kin, but it’s all passive activism — a brilliant oxymoron. “Are you homeless? Are you seeking help? If by chance you’ve happened upon this brochure (printed on recycled paper), take the time to read it and, you know, it could, in theory, help you find shelter.”

I’m being cruel. I don’t mean it. I really enjoyed shopping at the co-op. It was in, out and done. No wandering helplessly through acres of shelves and shopping carts. No Matchbox Twenty or Third Eye Blind crackling through a speaker system overhead. No crying babies, no one yapping on their cell phone, no one sorting through a fist full of coupons, no one examining 53 peanut butter options while boxing you out like a fat Charles Barkley.

It was…I don’t know…kind of nice.

I might go back to the co-op. Trader Joe’s is still Mecca, but that’s not to say Eastside Food Co-op didn’t please. But for the love of honest produce, someone please do something about that damn hippie funk, man. No one wants to smell that.

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It’s day two of our Summer Internship Campaign at Fast Horse. This week, three carefully selected finalists are competing for the most votes on Facebook to become our next intern.

Sound familiar?

This is how I got my start at Fast Horse and I can say it’s a total meat grinder. There’s a new wrinkle this year, too. The finalists have no idea how they’re doing. The totals won’t be revealed until Friday at 5 p.m. CDT when the voting period ends.

What does that mean? These folks need to keep the full-court press on for five full days with no let up.

Do me (and them) a favor: Swing over to our blog and watch each finalist’s video cover letter. Then, visit Fast Horse on Facebook and cast your vote.

Take it from someone who knows – this is a life-changing opportunity. Choose wisely.

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Been to one concert festival in my life — 10,000 Lakes Festival in 2004. Never again! Psychadelics, drum circles, uncouth freakers, port-o-johns, soiled hippie feet. I don’t care if a Jesus halogram appeared and performed miracles – I would never, ever attend Coachella.

Unless Bon Iver was playing. Then we can negotiate, but even I still, I would want some box seats or a deluxe motorhome. Just being reasonable, folks.

Shove some earbuds in and enjoy, my friends, as the music gods weep.

[Photo from Pitchfork Media]

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