So long, RVA!
You know that saying “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?” Well, that’s wrong. Sometimes, you drag what happens in Vegas home and try to live with it, even though you and what happened are almost complete strangers.
When it comes to doing stupid things in front of an audience, I’ve had some practice.
There’s a hurricane a’comin’ and people are in a tizzy. Here’s why I can’t afford to worry and why being poor makes life beautifully simple.
Even those of us who live fully have things that we really want to do before we die. Today, I reveal my list and confess to the things that will never, ever, make it on there.
When it comes to deciding on a topic for this column, some weeks I open up the internet and ask the muses for guidance. Some weeks Gawker posts a one minute clip from a Hulk Hogan sex tape.
Like Whitney Kropp, the 16-year-old nominated as a joke to homecoming court by some classmates, I also had a bully. He was small, he was mean, and he made me use an encyclopedia.
My family may have some secrets, but Valerie Spruill has me beat, by a long way. Read about what our families hid from us and why we’ll both probably be OK.
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but what about hair by any other color? A tribute to my pink mop and a shout out to those who march to the beat of a different style drummer.
Can a booger-eating girl and a frog-faced boy find true love, elementary school-style? Can a 13-year-old runaway get to her 12-year-old object of affection using a stolen car and her mother’s ATM card? This one’s for all the boy-crazy girls out there.
Politically, reaching across the aisle is important. But what happens when that aisle is a bed and the arms wrapped around you at night are connected to hands that vote for a different candidate?
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