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With the possible exception of “strong language” and “excessive flatulence,” I’m pretty sure the MPAA would have bestowed a lowly PG-13 rating upon my bachelor party (dubbed “Benjamin’s Breckenridge Weekend” on the custom beer coozies my father brought) at worst. Not that we caught the four day adventure on film (though there is some photographic…

I recently heard a Jerry Seinfeld routine in which he suggested that the average adult man’s fashion taste freezes on whatever he was wearing in his last great year. Which is why I’m still walking around in the same Chuck Taylor’s I wore in high school. There’s a fair argument that says the same theory…

“Listen,” I said, “you’re an exotic dancer, and I’m a guy whose hero is Mister Rogers. That ought to suggest to you that this isn’t gonna’ end up like it usually does.” I’ve blundered into some unusual experiences in my life, but this one took the cake. In the end, I would have been better…

I woke the same as any other day except a voice was in my head. The Las Vegas Strip might be one of the sketchier spots on Earth at six in the morning. I’ve run it all week long, each day driving me one step closer to despair. This morning led me past Hollywood, Cairo,…

In just a few short months, Late Night at Rockwood Music Hall has become something of a phenomenon. In a city full of recalcitrant talent bookers and apathetic sound men, Ken Rockwood’s Lower East Side venue has been the most artist-friendly venue since opening in 2005. The stage occupies nearly one fourth of this intimate,…

Our friend Torrie’s father passed away last week. You probably know Torrie from her oddly-named blog (odd because I find her delightful and not hateful at all), I Pretty Much Hate Everything. I wrote about running into her on the street a few summers ago. I chalked it up tothe excellent connective skills of the…