I thought I would be instantly smashed to pieces, but somehow the train went straight over me, and except for the noise, it didn’t hurt a bit. I was really just embarrassed. Everybody was screaming and freaking out and I didn’t know what to do, so to avoid the awkward situation, I decided I would just pretend to be dead. 

In the Observer profile Marie is quoted as saying, “I wrote to express my worldview/subjectivity because it felt then that no one had any idea.” Isn’t this why people write?

This thirty-minute show would air either before or after Jeopardy. It would consist of 2-5 contestants running around an urban area with laptops in search of working and unprotected WiFi hotspots. The show’s host will be a Scandinavian bro named Sven.

It may or may not be obvious by now that this article is more self-analysis than cultural analysis, and if it’s valid cultural analysis, its ideas have probably been articulated much better a thousand times over by writers much more legit than me, probably ~10 years ago.

The other night, using my cell phone’s handy calculator function, I determined I had 676 months left to live, presuming lung cancer or a man willing to kill me for the unregistered Panera card I have in my pocket don’t drag me to the grave earlier than the average American lifespan would dictate.