I’m still in Connecticut for the holiday weekend. Trust me; that sentence sounds much more bougie than I actually am. Before I moved to the east coast, words and phrases like Martha’s Vineyard, Manhattan, New England, The Hamptons and Connecticut sounded so rich, white and preppy. It’s weird to actually live and work in this region now. (Sidenote: I saw Trey Ellis — the dude who wrote The Inkwell — read at Rachel’s series, In the Flesh, the other night. He’s actually pretty funny!) But, back to CT. One of the weird things about this place is this: they don’t sell booze on holidays. Seriously, we went to the grocery store to buy a bottle of wine to go with dinner, and a big fucking green curtain blocked all alcohol in the store so you couldn’t even see it. What the fuck is that??? Seriously. What did they think would happen if people actually *looked* at a six pack of Corona?? I miss Manhattan — home of liquor stores that not only sell booze in single-size servings 24/7, they also deliver. Whatever. Anyway. Because we couldn’t buy wine, we bought sparkling cider to go with dinner … and we polished off a bottle of leftover rum hanging around the house. See how that works? Stupid blue laws barred us from buying wine, so we were forced to drink hard liquor instead. :) Such bullshit.
I hope you all had good Thanksgivings. Last night at dinner, we did the traditional thing and went around the table saying what we were thankful for. I said I was grateful for my life in New York. The first three years were really shitty at times, but the most recent one is going well … so far. Best wishes that life is going well for you, too. By the way, I kinda sorta wanted to live blog my Thanksgiving holiday. In the end, I only posted a few things. The transcript is below if you’re interested. Be well. Sending love e-booze from Connecticut …

“Ooh goodie,” I thought as I read 



Fast forward. I’ve been living in New York City for almost four years now. It kinda feels like a small town because everyone’s connected by a couple degrees of separation. Ten years ago, if you would’ve sneaked into my hotel room during that 1st New York trip and told me I’d eventually call NYC a “small town” I would’ve thought you were crazy. But, it’s true! Take my most recent
Last weekend, one of my lovely Twitter followers (I follower him, too),