Articles by Sarah D. Bunting
Back in the day, the Biscuit and I produced our own public-access television show. One of these days, I’ll write a column about the “Moist Towelette” era, but in order to avoid meandering off into …
The local TV news here in New York City never changes. A typical newscast leads with one of three stories: a sexual or drug-related abuse of power by a low-ranking school official; a shooting death, …
A couple of days ago, I found myself tearing up during a movie preview, which sounds pathetic enough by itself, but it gets worse. I teared up during a preview for a Kevin Costner movie. …
I have read Susan Faludi’s Backlash. It took me three tries, but I finally got through it, and only because I brought with me on my forty-minute subway commute each morning so that I would …
Last night, the Couch Baron accompanied me to The Sixth Sense. I like going to the movies with the Couch Baron because he is, as Nicole would say, easy like Sunday morning. The Couch Baron …
My freshman year in college, I had a roommate who played hockey – not upper-crusty kilt-wearing field-hockey hockey, but thuggish pad-wearing ice-hockey hockey. I knew next to nothing about hockey – my parents hauled me …
Ah, city living. New Yorkers have at their disposal, in addition to an infinite number of cultural opportunities and convenient scenes from life’s rich pageant, hundreds of ways in which they might acquire a championship …
Ernie and I became best friends because we could both derive hours of undiminished amusement from bathroom humor. We became friends in a rather roundabout fashion; we met through our mutual friend The Lip at …
Gary Larson once drew a panel for his cartoon The Far Side in which a kid huddled underneath his bedclothes with a snorkel-esque apparatus attached to his face; the apparatus had a tube that snaked …
This morning, my alarm went off, and when I tried to get out of bed, I found that a microbe or allergen of some kind had once again invited several million of its closest friends …