Read Albert's first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth,
thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth, twentieth, twenty-first,
twenty-second, twenty-third, twenty-fourth, twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth letters for more background
to this one.
Hi Barry,
Read Albert's first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth,
thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth, twentieth, twenty-first,
twenty-second, twenty-third, twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth letters for more background to this one.
Hi Michelle,
Every two weeks, our lifestyles expert, Cosmos Catalano, will answer your questions. Have a question for Cosmos? Write him at cosmos@wagsrevue.com.
Dear Cosmos,
I have a question about coffee. I haven’t ever understood the reason anyone drinks a latte or cappuccino as opposed to just a regular cup of drip. Is there a difference in the amount of caffeine, for example? Is it a taste thing? Or have Americans just been brainwashed by Starbucks to think they like such drinks better? I’ve always thought coffee did the job just fine.
Thanks,
Gary R. in Portland, ME
Dear Gary,
There is a very peculiar thing that happens when you find out your business partner is a liar: you want to die. Because when you start a decaf-only coffee shop with your business partner and then your business partner betrays you by moving away to another city (though you both said you would be in this thing until the end), death seems easier than any imaginable present, especially this one, inside a building under an overpass whose noise is ceaseless.
Read Albert's first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth,
thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth, twentieth, twenty-first,
twenty-second, twenty-third and twenty-fourth letters for more background to this one.
Hi Rufus,
Read Albert's first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth,
thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth, twentieth, twenty-first,
twenty-second and twenty-third letters for more background to this one.
Hey Joey,
Read Albert's first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth,
thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth, twentieth, twenty-first
and twenty-second letters for more background to this one.
Hi Michelle,
Scorpio
October 23 -
November 21
This week you are that creepy guy wearing the scream mask. You are behind glass doors waving, in foyers, on the sidewalk. You are taking delight in inflating this festive season. In fact, it is a relief to wear a mask—you will take a particular pleasure in it. The world has perhaps become too familiar with you, and you too familiar with the world. A moment of reverent escape is just what you need. You will get what it is that you wanted if you escape into a new consciousness: a surprised reaction.
Sagittarius
November 22 -
December 21
This Halloween you dress like a semi-colon. It’s not as unusual as one might initially think that punctuation is associate with horror. You divide two complete grammatical units. The thing is, though, that the thoughts are not unconnected. They require each other—yet in order to require you, a semicolon, the two strings of words require the autonomy of a sentence. You may feel you are dangling between two complete thoughts, tentative and fragile. How many times have you misplaced semicolons in your own usage? Take a moment to read either side of the equation. Do not feel that you cannot step away.
Blog sultan Raymond Sultan committed to live blogging the hurricane today on The Wag. He only succeeded in writing one mediocre post (see below). We received this statement from him at 6:12 pm.
6:12 PM: The cable is down, and with it, the Internet. All is lost. Tonight a thousand novelty Twitter accounts will be born and live out their shooting-star lives without my ever having known them. No man is an island, except me: I'm totally an island. Goodbye, blog readers, and good luck on the other side. Wag 4 eva.
Listen. The Giants won the World Series last night. I may or may not have taken a lot of celebratory whiskey shots. Okay. Did. I drank all the whiskey. They don't call me "the Hurricane" for nothing. Anyway, I'm working from home today, specifically the bed part of my home. One of my biggest complaints about my bed is that nobody has brought me an omelette. I wonder how rich I'd have to be to make that happen. So listen, I know my East Coast friends are a bit disappointed that the Yankees etc. really shat the bed this year. And to that I say, fuck all y'all. Ours was a hard fought postseason. We earned this shit. The San Francisco Giants are champions of the world, I'm hungover, and nothing else of note is going on.
2:22 PM: The outlying areas of my heart are flooded with strong emotions.
12:36 PM: The storm hasn't even hit yet and things are already getting bad around the Tri-State area. I will now watch Waterworld more closely than a human being ever has in order to learn how to drink my own pee.