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The teams were always the same: Sean and Chris versus Dusty and me. I don’t remember meeting the Wells brothers, they just were. My family moved from Indianapolis, Indiana, to Oak Park, Illionois, in the summer before first grade. Our mint green stucco house on Forest Avenue was just one block from architect Frank Lloyd…

You remember my pal Casey Shea, right? Casey and his lovely wife Langhorne are on the road with Casey’s new band, Sundown: think Crosby, Still & Nash, but cuter, and way hipper (and none of that weirdness with Melissa Etheridge). Well, they’re blogging about their adventures for MTV News. You can check it out at…

Like the film he was encouraging me to see, Ron’s email was short and sweet. “Get thee to the cinema,” it read. “Like, tomorrow.” Sunday, then, found Abbi and I reclining in the perfect optical and aural center of AMC Theatre #15 for the 7:05 screening of “Once.” Like Ron’s subject header said, “Oh man!”…

I’m as tired of writing about sleepless nights as you are of reading about them. So I won’t even bother with the twitch I’ve developed in my left eye. Instead, I’ll briefly regale you with an excerpt from an article I read in the New Yorker this morning. In “At Lincoln’s Deathbed,” author Adam Gopnik…

I’m beginning to think I’m schizophrenic. I’m sitting in seat 19C of US Airways Flight #61 en route from Las Vegas to New York City. My seatmate is the one guy on the plane who hasn’t lowered his blind, so not only is my enjoyment of the Cedric The Entertainer Nicollet Sheridan comedy vehicle, The…

Jimmy Buffet’s personal chef bought me shots last night. “Pick the place,” I told Chris. “I’ll meet you in fifteen.” “Bar 9,” he said haphazardly. I stepped out the door just before nine o’clock. “Be home in an hour,” I told Abbi. Some 900 seconds later, I saddled up to the bar. The Yankees were…