I’ve been in rooms I never wanted to be in. I’ve sat with killers. Tight with nerves, I’ve felt the lifeless cold of a gun against my waist as I watched drugs deals go down that most folks only see in movies.
Instead of flowers, I give you a dozen music videos from the French chanteuse, Soko.
I’ve always been a happy racist. Like, I don’t lose sleep over it. And no, I don’t care if someone calls me that at a party. I’m cool with being racist (and you can be, too).
For the first installment in a series that brings together two greats to determine who is truly the greatest, I thought we could start with the King of Kings.
Determine what she is saying. Confirm you heard her correctly. Consider her words/ Reflect on their meaning. Allow them to affect your experience.
This Saturday morning cartoon marathon will throw you back to childhood so fast you just might taste cereal.
Most of us know more about math than we know about orgasms. This is likely due to the fact our climaxes are so uniquely personal.
Planes always seem like time-travel to me. Those aluminum-skinned time machines make me feel weird, strangely dislocated, as if I were ripped from the world and then plopped down in some bizarre and unfamiliar environment like the Dallas-Fort Worth airport.
Look at you. You have no idea what you’re doing. You think you do. And that’s cool. You probably should think that. Luck favors the bold. No reason to start questioning yourself and your every move.
Listening to young straight men give me advice about where to find intelligent single women in a big city has taught me one thing — they have no fucking idea where to look.