“I wrote 63 songs this year. They’re all about Jeter.” Just kidding. The game we love, the players we hate, and more.
From Norman Mailer to Wendy Pepper — everything on film, TV, books, music, and snacks (shut up, raisins), plus the Girls’ Bike Club.
Helping public schools, winning prizes, sending a crazy lady in a tomato costume out in public.
Monologues, travelogues, fiction, and fart humor. And hens. Don’t forget the hens.
The Tomato Nation advice column addresses your questions on etiquette, grammar, romance, and pet misbehavior. Ask The Readers about books or fashion today!
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 …