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What’s the best part about riding an innertube down a mountain with a bunch of giggling eight-year-olds? Feeling twenty-nine years younger. Better yet? Momentarily forgetting those twenty-nine years altogether. Truth is, I didn’t have much business even considering spending the weekend in Vermont. My colleagues were crashing a half-hour Chris Brown and Rihanna special at…

These are troubled times. While I, for one, endeavor to refrain my steady drumbeat of “change,” and “opportunity,” I find myself struggling home through the cold every night having accomplished nothing on my “To Do” list which typically includes both “Eat Breakfast” and “Eat Lunch.” Forget “Run.” Worse, I wake in the middle of most…

I’ve heard about this sort of thing, but rarely really witnessed it first-hand. I’m at a bar called Brother Jimmy’s on 31st & Lex. Apparently, Murray Hill is the new post-collegiate neighborhood because everyone looks straight out of Central Casting. “Jimmy, get me a dozen Zeta Psis and a coupla’ Tri Delts, stat!” I haven’t…

Well, kind of. It’s been three years since I last walked the Grammy red carpet. Of course, truth is that I walked the carpet (which was Heineken green, as I recall) well in advance of the actual celebrities. The rest of the night, I was working across the street in a corrugated aluminum trailer. We…

The trick to growing up, I think, is retaining enthusiasm. I’m not talking about relinquishing one’s critical faculties, I’m talking about retaining an appreciation of all things. We live in a soundbite-fueled, 24-hour, wide-screen, Technicolor Gotcha! Culture. Mean girls, hipsters, red carpet takedowns, partisan bickering, magazine snarking — it all adds up to something awful.…