On with the show?
Although the VH1 website says Can’t Get a Date! is on hiatus, a friend watched my episode on VH1-on-demand over the weekend. As far as...
Hillery eventually learned not to say everything that came to mind. Some were too good not to write down.
Although the VH1 website says Can’t Get a Date! is on hiatus, a friend watched my episode on VH1-on-demand over the weekend. As far as...
Names I know have been falling out of the sky. I’ve been located via MySpace by several people I knew in secondary school and Friendstered...
I get my news from the radio. When I’m working at home I have it on most of the time. The way my brain works,...
Obviously, I’m in the midst of an identity crisis. I’m depressed. And, just in time for the full-on adulthood of my thirties, I’ve developed an...
One of the many nice things about having friends who are the cutest, coolest burlesque act ever is that even though you may not have...
Some scraggly looking man came in with a few friends just before closing and she suggested I flirt with him. I looked at the man again. He was moderately good looking, but wearing a ridiculous hunting cap—you know, the kind with ear flaps that models were wearing in ads for about five minutes but otherwise have been off the scene since your ancestors really did shoot their dinner. Remembering her gullibility and forgetting her lack of a reference point, I decided it would be funny to pretend that I couldn’t flirt with the guy because he was Paul Rudd. “Who?” Well, he’s kind of a movie star. “So?” And he’s married. “I don’t buy it. Look at that hat.” Okay, I’ll prove it.
I was watching Bukowski: Born Into This the other night and in some special feature the filmmaker commented that he thought Hank wouldn’t have wanted him to make the film he did because it got too close—it showed the duker as vulnerable and often afraid. I thought, ‘Were you reading the same poetry I was?’ To my mind, vulnerability was the force behind every hard line that man ever wrote. If you were looking, you got close a long time ago.
I once met a man who could stare into my eyes and at my breasts simultaneously. Not one eye here and one eye there. No flashing back and forth. What was going on, I believe it’s what’s called a thrall. And we were never introduced, so it’s misleading to say I met him. But it’s a strange story and it has to start somewhere.
On location in Pasadena, at the Huntington Library and Botanical Gardens, I thought I would share some views of my perfect weather day in SoCal. ...
In lieu of summer vacations, my dad used to take me with him on business trips. By the time I was twelve I had broken...