Every now and again I take a break from covering really important Twitter beefs between swag ass bitches and piling on some poor sap on the Olive Garden beat to put on my big boy writing pants. I've got a word machine that I built with my hands up today over at Slate about being reunited with a long lost older sister I kind of knew I had. People like it. I'm a good writer and a good boy! (Really all due to editing by my man Dan Engber, who is the Bill Belichick of editors. Puts me through the fucking ringer that kid. Worth it though). So, I can feel happy about myself for the next 24 hours before reclining back into the banal comfort of self-loathing. Go check it out. It's a touching story or whatever, although I'm already kind of a shitty brother to two sisters already, so who knows what to do now. My favorite part is how utterly punchable that little goober's face is in the photo. I want to give that nerd the biggest wedgie of his short, and soon to be revealed in his near future, mostly pointless existence.
Also, check out this thing today in the Boston Globe Great Scott and T.T.’s join forces with all-access pass about a cool new idea from two of our better indie rock clubs. It's a pass that gives you access to both clubs every night for 6 months. It's like buying a scenester credentials in one fell swoop without having to spend years glad-handing douchebags.
Couple other things I did for Slate this year if you're not sick of me yet.
Gym Rat Control Why is the Planet Fitness chain of health clubs trying to alienate people who love to work out?
Remembrance of Things Assed How my childhood friend became an Internet laughingstock.
The I Formation My friends hate watching football with me. I couldn’t be happier.
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4 comments:
I'd like to meet your sister on the internet, if you catch my drift here
Lol that shit gets me everytime. Just sorry I couldnt make the joke myself.
with heart-shaped hands.
sounds like a siq emo band.
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