February 2011
10 posts
“Are there any cute people in your building? We should walk around with a bottle of alcohol, knock on doors and say we’re the shot patrol and hand out shots. That would be a great way to meet people.”
—My brother’s either horribly, horribly wrong or he’s right, and I live in a frat house.
an open letter to the girl sitting on the bus …
… from Michael McCrary (the guy who did all the Boyz II Men spoken-word sections. Oh yeah, he’s a bass):
Don’t do it, girl.
You don’t know me, but I was on the bus with you today, baby.
And that guy who was talking to you? The one in the polo shirt? He don’t deserve you.
He said he likes Wes Anderson, but girl, you know he only saw The Royal Tenenbaums one time. I’d never do you that way, girl. I have the whole collection. I’d draw you a bath and let you watch ‘em all on a bed of roses. Girl.
You had to tell him your name three times. Girl, I’d never forget one word that comes off your sweet lips. Like when you said, “Here’s my stop.” I remember where you live, girl.
He said his friends thinks he writes the funniest emails … but girl, you have your own blog. Don’t sell yourself short, baby. I wouldn’t pay less than a million for you. Because that’s what you’re worth. A million. Kisses. And dollars. Girl.
I want you to know I believe in you, baby. I believe in all your dreams. You want to get out of sales one day? He might have laughed, but girl, I know you will. I’m here for you, girl. If you’d just look my way, you’d make me the happiest man in the world. You’d never have to ride the bus again.
Unless you wanted to.
So when he asks you for your number, all I gotta say to you is just one thing…
Don’t do it, girl.
The inspiration for this post. I find way too much crap on the internet. And by “crap,” I mean, ridiculously amazing stuff. That link’s gonna change your damn life. Trust.
living the dream, a play in one act.
ACT ONE, SCENE ONE.
Curtain opens on CHRISSIE, our plucky protagonist. She is sitting on the bed in her tiny apartment, huddled over her laptop, completing an article on dude underwear for a gay lifestyle magazine. She also spends a lot of time at her day job writing about dude underwear. CHRISSIE realizes she knows more about dude underwear than any lady has a right to.
CHRISSIE: New York City, land of opportunity.
She gets up, puts on a hat and walks three steps to her front door to exit the apartment. After a single flight of stairs, she opens the door to the building and steps out on to the sidewalk. She throws her hat in the air. It lands on the cold, wet concrete.
Fin.
“He can call me whatever he wants, as long as he does my taxes.”
—“Things I Never Thought I’d Say” for $1,000.
“Did you hear? I’m going to deliver your sister’s baby.”
—My sister asked my mom to be in the delivery room.
