A really cool read. Thanks for the insight into a place and a culture I'll (realistically) never get to see.

If nothing else, this gives me the perfect excuse to go back and re-read the Manti Te'o story on the clock on a Friday afternoon. Thank you, sir.

Some people just don't know what to do with themselves when they have more options, I guess.

William turns on the house lights and comes down from the light booth to sit next to me. I see no way out but lies. I start rambling about how great he is but haven't I mentioned Peter, my boyfriend?

What can they say? "Oh, I was on Tinder, and I saw RIP DJ Screw! What a loser!"? They're on Tinder, same as you are. If they think there's a stigma about using Tinder, and yet ARE USING TINDER THEMSELVES, then they're idiots.

If anyone's got suggestions for a great coffee table book on cocktails - not necessarily recipes, but the history or chemistry behind them or something a little deeper - I'm all ears. My ladyfriend is a wizard behind the bar and I'd love to pick her up something along those lines this year.

Relevant: This tweet slays me every time I read it.

Also, it's hard to see how comb technology can be improved upon.

Store-brand orange juice, warm, in the bottle, with something called Nelson County bourbon. If I thought the people on the train with me that day didn't know/couldn't smell what I was doing, I was an idiot.

If you live in a place with good avocado (read: not Maine), some avocado slices go well in there too and contrast the acidity of the tomato/onion and the crunch of the pine nuts.

Thanks man, that's high praise coming from you.

Toast some pine nuts in a dry pan. Quarter a bunch of grape or cherry tomatoes, finely slice a red onion.

"THE BRONCOS WERE TRYING TO HURT MARSHAWN LITTERLY"

- No auto-play video, for a start. Goddamn that pisses me off about ESPN.

Beaten by two hours. I came here to say the same thing.

I moved here late last year. I like it, but the last two sentences appear to be very fucking true.

Came here to say the same thing. I also don't work for the company. I'm a piece of shit in a small-town office that doesn't care if I shave or not, so I'm only scraping the hair off my face every five days. I let Dollar Shave Club send me the quad-blade ones every month for four months, and now I have enough to last…

"Thought you mean shit on you like, after I hit it I won't call you, shit on you like that. But no, she wanted me to cock over her..."

I moved to Maine in mid-December from Australia, where the conditions underfoot are the same all year round - dry. I'm counting down the days until I can break out any of the half-dozen or so pairs of sneakers I brought with me that have been stuffed in the closet since I arrived, while I pull on my filthy waterproof…

What are the circumstances (age, job situation, hobbies) that all of a sudden turn a normal adult into a raging addict for info on the weather?