tales from the middle.
Dispatches from a Small Wedding I’m finally at the point in my life where this whole wedding thing is starting to taper off. It was fast and furious there for awhile, an intense and fund-depleting run into my early 30s. It felt like every weekend I’d be driving to Philly or the Eastern Shore in... Continue Reading →
Tuesdays get a bad rap. They’re not as hyperbolically agonizing as Monday, don’t have the hope of Thursday or Friday, and don’t have the cute, camel-related allusions of Wednesday. I like Tuesdays because that’s the day new books come out. And this past Tuesday was more important than most because it was the day one... Continue Reading →
Twice a year, I leave work early and head north on the Capital Beltway for a trip into Maryland. It usually takes me about an hour to make the 28 mile drive and is inevitably replete with sections of turtle-like crawling followed by a hopeful 50mph sprint followed by a sea of sudden tail lights... Continue Reading →
At 7 p.m., shit is getting intense. There’s an increased urgency in the newsroom as the staff’s 8 o’clock deadline approaches. Editors piston between reporters shouting final copy and design corrections so they can put the pages to bed. “Okay, let’s look at this lead,” the editor-in-chief says to the news editor, the lenses of... Continue Reading →
Tour is a weird place. You know how sometimes you go to the bar and have so much fun the night just kind of slips away from you? Suddenly it’s 2:45 and the Metro is closed and you somehow lost a shoe and need to vomit up your two helpings of Jumbo Slice? Tour’s pretty... Continue Reading →
There’s only one place I wanted to be at 9 p.m. last Sunday night: on my couch in front of the television. I, along with an estimated 17.4 million others around the world, rejoined our favorite cast of double-crossing, Night Army-fighting, family-fucking barbarians for the Season 8 premiere of the epic fantasy HBO series Game... Continue Reading →
Last month on the 17th green at TPC Sawgrass, Tiger Woods retrieved his ball and made his way to the tee box on 18. Standing along the walkway was Thomas Wesling, a college kid wearing a t-shirt and knockoff Wayfarer sunglasses that would’ve looked more appropriate at a Spring Break keg party. The t-shirt Wesling... Continue Reading →
Bryce Harper. The name itself carries so much weight in this town, the same way the names Alex Ovechkin or Sean Taylor create a tickle of pride in the throat. All that has changed now. Harper has now transformed from Washingon’s well-coiffed hero to loathed villain with the stroke of a pen on a very... Continue Reading →
I suck at golf. Seriously. On my best days, I approached - but never broke - the score of 100. I once birdied a short par-4 at a crabgrass course in Maryland, but since I was alone, my only proof was a depressing photo of a dirty Titleist sitting at the bottom of a cup.... Continue Reading →
