You are what you eat. Maybe don't eat shit.

The night I found myself in the lobby of a Courtyard Marriott, covered in hot dog relish, about to die.

I've never enjoyed something more thoroughly, and I probably never will.

Image unrelated. Well, besides the desert I guess.

I hear the whisper of a snake. Like Adam I rip myself away from the lie of the devil, yet the whispers remain.

My public high school education at its finest.

It was the perfect grift. Until it wasn't.

My high school biology class was a wealth of valuable information.

My obsession with dry rub chicken wings got me banned from the 40/40 Club in Manhattan. Sorry Jay-Z!

I have become infuriated with Touch Tunes and a totally classless act perpetrated by them upon me specifically with malice of forethought.

Your new favorite food is an epic culinary experience that can be had at home, even if you're low on ingredients, class, and self-respect.

Pondering the profound meaning behind a novelty t-shirt and how it could have far-reaching respiratory implications for the wearer.