Articles by Sarah D. Bunting
Last week, after two years as a proofreader, I quit my job at Penthouse Magazine. Yes, “that Penthouse Magazine.” I have had some exceedingly random jobs in my life – from stable hand to church …
During my formative years, I cannot count how many times my mother looked around the dinner table at me and my younger brother and then covered her eyes with her hand and sighed in despair. …
Back in May of ’98, I drove U.S. Highway 1 from the top to the bottom. For the geographically challenged in the crowd, U.S. 1 runs from Fort Kent, Maine to Key West, Florida – …
I heard of Linda McCartney’s passing from my mother, who sent me an e-mail saying she felt very much saddened by Linda’s death. “It seems to be the beginning of the end of an era, …
One evening last fall, the Disco Biscuit and I walked out the front door of my building to find the entire block bathed in the glare of klieg lights. Other residents of the building stood …
When I log into my e-mail account at work, I know exactly what I will find there. I work as an alumnae records assistant, not exactly the top rung of the academic ladder by any …
The other day, while giving my apartment a long-overdue spring cleaning, I found a number of things – a handful of small change lodged in between the cushions of my couch, a dry cleaner’s receipt …
I don’t go to church anymore, except on Christmas, and I only go then because I like to listen to the Christmas carols, and I also like making snide comments to my father and brother …
Victoria’s Secret sucks. All the men who lovingly tote the catalog into the bathroom with them for a little light reading might disagree, but I don’t care. Vicky can bite me, and furthermore, I won’t …
Back in the day, “going to the bathroom” meant squatting over a chamber pot, then tossing its contents out of an upper-story window and onto unsuspecting passersby on the street. (Sometimes, when I stay over …