So it's been awhile since I've done any crazy get-Internet-famous schemes (though my OKCupid profile is up to 283 likes). My absence from the Internet can be attributed to a few reasons:
1) The election happened and I entered a catatonic state
2) I went to Australia
3) I'm in the middle of moving to Seattle
4) I got some excellent blogging advice from someone a lot better at this than I that chronicling my Internet fame-whoring isn't as compelling as, say, creating a community for people who want to Internet fame whore... or do other nice things.
5) I sent an essay to The New York Times and one to Salon.com and they were both accepted--even though I am an Internet nobody. This leads me to believe that all I have to do to become a writer is, you know, write.
So I've decided to focus on actually putting my work into the world instead of my selfies.
"But wait!" you think. "What's going to happen to your blog? Where will I get my daily dose if schadenfreude reading about your numerous literary failures?" To which I say, 1) Schadenfreude can be obtained at the Trumpgrets Tumblr and 2) I'll still post stuff here; it'll just be half as fame-whorey.
Why, look at this! I got called up at The Moth StorySlam in October! I sprang to have them send me the video so that you might behold a story from my book about the time I was busted being an asshole abroad. Maybe it will be on the radio. Maybe it won't. Either way, I had more fun telling it than I did living it.