Editors’ Note: A few weeks ago, while sitting in The Wheelhouse Review’s cafeteria discussing whether or not men think about having it all, Ryan put down his sub and said “Look how many cookies I can fit into my mouth at once!” Shortly after the sarcastic applause and much-needed Heimlich maneuver, he stated “no girl could equal that Cookie Monster feat because even though all women love to eat chocolate they totally have cooties and guys are just awesomer.” Juliet thought for a moment and replied, “Really? I bet you couldn’t get more of your friends to like TWR on Facebook. Now hand me that chocolate…wait! But only if it’s organic.”
After changing her mind no less than three times, Juliet proposed a wager to see how many likes each of them could get, with the loser buying the winner a drink. Ryan decided those stakes were both too low and delicious. He then proposed that the loser would have to watch a gender-specific movie of the winner’s choosing, with the only caveat being this could not include “Under the Tuscan Sun” (Diane Lane’s voice inexplicably triggers in Ryan a near-fatal allergic reaction)
Then, after a heated debate–through song and dance (Ryan insisted upon the latter)–over whether anything Ryan could do, Juliet could do better (although they agreed that neither of them could bake a pie), the two founders decided to allow the power of democracy to work and ask you, our readers, to pick the penalty for the loser. Or rather, since there is no way to easily quantify who acquired the most “likes,” find some way to make either Ryan or Juliet’s life momentarily miserable.*
So, loyal and beautiful readers, we need your help to settle this epic debate, especially since Ryan has now built and locked himself in a pillow fort in the office, with a sign reading “No girls allowed.”
Step 1: Like us on Facebook if you haven’t already! Otherwise you won’t be able to vote in the poll and support/torture one of the two founders.
Step 2: Vote in our poll! You’ll see it right at the top of our facebook page. Voting starts on Monday morning and will continue on Friday afternoon. We’ll announce the winner on Monday, July 23, exclusively on Facebook!
Juliet watches “The Expendables” (2010), with its star-studded cast of aging action stars, headed by the esteemed Dolph Lundgren.
Ryan watches “Twilight” (2008), the first of the renowned Twilight series that taught us all that you can be a 107 year-old virgin and still have sex appeal.
Author’s Note: Readers, when I moved to Washington DC nearly six months ago, I did not come with the intention of starting a literary career. After all, who moves from New York City to Capitol Hill to do that? Seriously, I’d like to know so that I can involve them in our writers’ circle. But anyway, I have joked that the Hill is the harried New Yorker’s Walden Pond, given that it’s just peaceful enough to feel like the “country” and close enough to Downtown DC to satisfy our neuroses about being alone. So in the spirit of Walden, I channel Henry David Thoreau to tell you the tale of my move to DC. For those of you who have read Walden, this will be familiar terrain. Still, if you’d like a refresher, click here or maybe here.
At a certain season of life, we are accustomed to reflecting on the past and looking toward the future and having, as the sages say, a complete and total freak out. Some call this a “Quarter Life Crisis.” Some call it a “Third Decade Crisis.” I have lived through the former and to my utter consternation and disappointment have now found myself in the latter. And so in the year I turned a score and ten, I thought it a wise thing to explore the vast unexploredterritories and live passionately and closer to the earth. I strove to move to Washington DC.
The Capitol, appropriately filtered using Instagram’s “Walden.”
I have thus surveyed the city on many sides within a dozen miles of where I live. In my imagination I have rented apartments on the mount of Pleasant and circle of Dupont and leased English basements in the Heights of Columbia and rooms in Bloomingdale, for according to Craig, all were to be acquired, and I knew their price. My imagination carried me so far that I had the acceptance of several places. Alas, my hands were never stained with the ink of a signed lease. The nearest that I came to actual possession was for an “efficiency” on Kenyon and 13th NW. I had my paperwork and my deposit, but at the last minute decided that I didn’t want to live alone. With respect to living with others:
I searched for the version with the famous memoirist, Ms. Jones but alas, it was not to be disseminated in this fashion. Continue reading →