Friday, April 6, 2007

Brunch with Pat Nixon (and 11 other things you do when you get to Hell)

And so, dear Internet, it begins again. Looks like this is my return to "blogging" (but since I find that such a grating neologism, I prefer to consider this the glossiest & cheapest magazine ever). See, once upon a time I was a big-shot famous "blogger" - or at least I was occasionally read by people who are occasionally read by people who are marginally well-known. In certain circles. So here I am, writing pseudonymously (alas! Rusty Schwartz is people fictional!) not so much because I don't want you, dear Internet, to know who I am, but simply because my name must never be spoke. Please accept my apologies.

So thanks to Mrs. Violet Beekeeper for curating this - ahem - magazine and I look forward to fully engaging my obsessive-compulsive tendencies (do you know how long i agonized over the capitalization in the post title? Do you?). I'm tanned pale, I'm fit malnourished, I'm ready starved for attention.

But don't worry; it's Jazz!

1 comment:

Violet said...

Uh, Beatdown magazine editorial style advisory - hereinteoforeafter, Brunch is always capitalizd, even in the middle of a sentence. Even in your mind.