Red, Pink & Green All Over

There’s no avoiding it: today is Valentine’s Day. Every time I hit the grocery store, CVS or even the hardware store, I’m smacked in the face with a plethora of red, white and pink items.

You wanna’ make your sweetie swoon? Buy her a pink hammer! Not squishy feely enough? How about a box of high-fructose corn syrup-laden, genetically modified sickly sweet cupcakes? Yum!

Truth is, I do not celebrate this so-called holiday. As far as I can tell, it’s really just another reason for the public to buy, buy, buy. And those lotharios who dare buck convention and go for something a little less commercial? Well, come Tuesday they’ll be changing their Facebook profiles to “single.” Continue reading

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Boosh is Best

Looking back at the previous year, I have to wonder how on earth H., Bunny and I survived.

It was one year ago that the shit hit the fan, and we started our little otherworldly adventure where money no longer exists, nothing is permanent and everything you thought before turned out to be bullshit.

Such fun!

In all honesty, the thing that got us through the worst of it – the months without an actual place to live, the uncertainty, the loneliness – was not what you might think. Few of you will be surprised to learn we turned not to the traditional forms of comfort this country has to offer: junk food, fast food, cable TV, porn.

Hell, not even religion could do a thing. (Is that sentence an oxymoron, or am I?)

So we found our own comfort, our own religion, in a way…

The. Mighty. Boosh.

Now, you can watch the Boosh on Adult Swim, but it’s cut to hell. I suggest trolling these here Internets to find episodes, or order the DVDs on Netflix. (Alas, no instant watching for these wee beasties.)

It not only reminds me of the fact that I lived in London and was dumb enough to come back — “Why yes, I am a complete jackass and moron, thanks for noticing!” — but also that I’m still a foreign citizen. I will, one day, be back on the High streets hitting H&M, Top Shop and, of course, Boots… sigh…

 

The New Mobility

Well, I’ve gotten a few messages lately asking what the heck’s going on, and why do I appear to be below the Mason-Dixon when I’d made a promise, nay, a blood oath, to never head south again?

True, I made a promise nearly two decades ago to never return to the south, thanks to one particularly awful year spent in Charlotte. But times change, and so do people, I suppose.

So for those of you following my previous year in turmoil thanks to a terrible economy and even worse job market in the Tri-State region, it’s been obvious that something had to give. It’s impossible to stay somewhere you can’t work, unless of course you’re independently wealthy or a welfare mom.

Being neither, my choices were limited. So, instead, H. and I are now the proud residents of a 29-foot Nomad travel trailer. That’s right, we’ve gone totally mobile, ready to head toward opportunity and away from the northeast economy. Continue reading

HuffPo Can SO Afford to Pay Me

Okay, in the off-chance my comment doesn’t make it through the censors, I need to discuss an article on Huffington Post regarding the lack of payment for writers.

Dude claims it’s all good because full-timers like him get paid, and everyone else gets exposure.

Fuck exposure.

If I wanted exposure I’d run nekkid through the goddamned trailer park at 8 a.m. when all the other RVers are drinking their morning coffee. Continue reading

Media R.I.P., Chapter 533

I just received an interesting piece of information, which can be added to the newspaper industry’s obituary.

Apparently, the new owner of a newspaper I used to work at has put the kibosh on editors writing letters of recommendation. Most unfortunately for me, this means that the editor I spent the most time working with, both in-house and as a freelancer, can no longer let anyone – fellowship committees, prospective PhD programs, future employers – know how good, or bad, a writer and editor I might be. Continue reading