When I was a kid, my mom told me not to talk to strangers. Even if they offered me candy. Strangers might offer you chocolate my mom would say.  Just to get you to go with them. I was a fat kid.  I would totally go with them. Then they’ll kill you. And there’s the rub. We were paranoid...

Oscar night for me is like Superbowl night for real men. Or for women who are more manly than I. Of which there are a lot of. Hilarious. If you didn’t watch the Oscars last night, I will briefly summarize the experience for you by compiling five of the creepiest moments. 1. Mo’nique Over-Thanking...

I’m not smooth in real life. I know. Shocking. I’ve been called “socially awkward”, “a little weird”, “creepy and gross.” Mostly the last thing. Which is why I’ve retreated to the darkness of my parents basement to write articles on Twitter. Due...

Actor-director-screenwriter-fat person Kevin Smith was recently asked to de-plane a Southwest flight recently because he was deemed “too fat” to fly. Outrageous. When I read this news, I was coincidentally feeding myself.  I looked up from my third hot pocket and yelled outrageous with...

Me being shattered by those I least suspect to hurt me, anonymous people on the Internet. As many of you know, I’m emotionally fragile. I cry-dance to Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs in my parents’ basement. That’s my Saturday. That. And nothing unravels me more than the hurtful comments...

"Don't worry people. Don't worry. Our 'social media guru' is on it." I’m not done with the douchebags. After I wrote the 5 Signs You’re Talking To A Social Media Douchebag, I was met with heavy feedback. Social media douchebags used social media to attack me. Damn...

This post is dedicated to me. Me, a year ago. When I had just 3 followers on Twitter and so few friends on Facebook they put me in that “Reconnect with loser-guy” window. People looked at me and were saddened. But not sad enough to add me. Bastards. And to anyone who’s just a little...

New Year's Eve 2010 in my parents' basement. I know. Typical. I’ve come to the sobering realization that I may have a few issues. It hit me on New Year’s Eve.  I was singing “If I Needed Someone” on Beatles Rock Band in my peejay pants with the racing stripe.  I rest the microphone...

You yearn to be a Twitter star. Deny it. Flail your girl-arms in the air. I don’t want to be a Twitter star, Tremendous News. Really? What if I told you I could give you 50 000 followers right now.  Would you take it? Of course you would. See? Don’t ever lie to me. I’m definitely...

The joy on this individual's face tells me that she clearly hasn't read my tweets. I follow about 500 people on Twitter. The perfect amount. I never miss anything anyone says. Plus, I tell my mom I have 500 friends. What? It’s not not-true. As we know, Twitter is plagued with a raging undercurrent...