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I love to dress up. Calm down, pervert — not in that way. I’m talking about putting on a nice suit or a classic tux for a night out on the town. Now, you financial boys are like, “Dude, I wear a fucking suit to work every day and I hate it.” Well, guess...
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I’m a VIP. Or so I’m told. I get invited to all sorts of openings, charity events, and other soirées. I’m given wristbands that get me into the “real” party; I’m often given free drinks when I walk up to a bar; and yes, I’m the guy you hate who walks...
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THIS SATURDAY night I’m having dinner with my ex-wife. What, I’ve never mentioned her before? Hmm ... thought I had. I mean, I’ve admitted to eating my own garbage and I’ve even shown you a photo of my hideous golf-themed pajama bottoms. One would think...
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THIS WEEK, I'm not going to tell you about what I did or where I went, because it really doesn't matter. The real story lies in what I did when I got home. No, this isn't going to be a sordid tale of post-bar sex or some over-the-top description...
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I SAT HERE for a quite a while trying to come up with an interesting way to relate my most recent Saturday night experience to you, my readers. I thought about talking about how lucky I am that my job has taken me to places that I might not otherwise...
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WHEN I started writing this column last year, I decided to be as open and honest as possible about the things I do on Saturday nights. I wanted to share with you stories about my life here in Boston and hopefully do it in a way that would make you stop...
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SOMETIMES I'M asked a question for which, as a guy, the answer seems so obvious that I'm amazed there's even a need for a reply. "Sir, would you like cheese on that?" "Have you seen that new movie 27 Dresses ?" "Hey...
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TONIGHT I'M doing the hotel thing. What's the hotel thing, you ask? Back when I was a young, misguided suburbanite, the "hotel thing" was when 14 of my closest underage friends and I would rent a single room at the Motel Casual in Tewksbury...
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DO YOU GUYS mind if I skip funny this issue? I'll be funny again, I promise. It's just that this Saturday night I don't really feel like laughing. See, I was supposed to go out tonight. My birthday just passed and a group of my closest friends...
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I'M STRESSED. Yeah, I know - who isn't? But guess what, smart-ass? This is my column, and that means I get to complain. If you don't like it, move on to the next page. Ooh, look: party pictures! Why don't you do something useful and go...
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WHEN I WAS in high school, I had three big obsessions: pegging my pants, Cheryl Lyman, and Van Halen. One made my pants tight around the ankles, one made my pants tight around the crotch, and the third was a major rock group. I was a huge Van Halen fan...
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I'M A FIVE-YEAR-OLD trapped in a 37-year-old's body. Really, I am. I'd run my mother over to get to a chocolate-chip cookie; I still get entirely too much enjoyment from watching cartoons; and on Halloween, I'm dressed in my costume and...
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SO, LET’S break form. Normally I use this column to tell you what I did on a recent Saturday night. As if that’s not boring enough, in this our 10th-anniversary issue I’ve decided to take you back in time and tell you what I was doing Saturday night 10...
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THAT'S MY mom. She kind of looks like Mrs. Claus, doesn't she? She's the best mom in the world. How do I know that? On her nightstand she has a trophy I bought for her at a yard sale when I was six years old. It reads "The World's...
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IT'S FALL WEDDING season - that glorious time of year when women lose their shit about things like buttercream frosting and seating charts. (Look, it's her special day, goddamn it, and if that garishly decorated symbol of unity isn't covered...
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