Check out my second NYC neighborhood “erotica” on the NabeWise blog.
For those of you at work, the dirtiest thing in it is the word manbits.
For those of you not at work, please feel free to write your own slash based on the relationship between the Wall Street bull and the 1 train and submit it in the comments.
My jack-of-all-trades friend Alan Corey of A Million Bucks by 30: How to Overcome a Crap Job, Stingy Parents, and a Useless Degree to Become a Millionaire Before (or After) Turning Thirty fame is a bigshot over at NabeWise, a new website devoted to revealing what makes NYC and San Francisco neighborhoods worth living in.
He asked me to do a series of guest posts about the neighborhoods I love most . . . in the style of a romance novel. Having never read a single romance novel in my life because I’m too much of a literary elitist, I was obviously the perfect choice for the task.
And it’s almost word-for-word what I sent them! Although the things they decided to leave out were obviously the best parts. Such as the phrase “like a mouthful of man-nectar between parted lips” and my mention of “buttflaps on old-timey pajamas”. Who doesn’t love buttflaps?! What I’m saying is–if you notice the same weird mistakes in the article that I do, rest assured that I wasn’t the one who made them. Not that I need to defend my reputation to you assholes.
Anyway, go read my post! And (please) make all of your friends read it, too, so I’ll have motivation to start on a super-sexy blogging-related Harlequin romance novel.
I know you thought my blogs were totally useless, but because of one of these Internet gems, Greyhound has invited me (and a guest!) to take a trip to Atlantic City today to try out their new fleet of buses equipped with amenities like wi-fi, electrical outlets, and additional legroom that I’ll fill with many bags full of family-sized shampoo bottles and other things I couldn’t bring if I was on a plane.
They’re putting us up in one of the casinos, slathering us in spa services, and hosting a meet-and-greet with other bloggers that they’re calling “Top of the Trop” and which I will hopefully endure the entirety of by tippling champagne with Kamran in a corner. I’m extremely excited, as this will only be the second time I’ve been to a hotel with him in the three and a half years we’ve been dating, if you don’t count all of those initial months when we were meeting up at the Four Seasons every weekend for illicit activities.
Kidding.
Anyway, Greyhound will be taking a look at my Twitter tomorrow to see what sort of nonsense I tweet about my trip (pretty awesome that I broke down and signed up for that jazz a week ago, right?), just to warn you, it may contain nothing but
1) lyrics to “The Wheels on the Bus”,
2) pictures of stupid vanity license plates, and
3) mentions of Kamran accidentally letting out a little pee every time we go over a pothole.
In case you’re not already reading datingisweird.com (which is absurd to even consider), you’ll want to check out this post from yesterday.
It’s my assertion that single people are single for a reason but with comments by people who don’t know me and can therefore call me names. If you thought the comments on it here were fun, imagine how much better they are when left entirely by snide single people. Yay!
I mean, not that anyone could beat your comments, you clever, clever darling babies. <3
I pass these barriers every day after work on my way to Kamran’s apartment, and I never could figure out why they creeped me out until I realized the other day that
ONE OF THEM IS CALLING MY NAME. Albeit backward.
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