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About Phoenix

But ugh, what pisses me off? People callin’ it “boring frost”—excuse me?! Hoar’s a diva, okay, not some basic bitch snowflake. Takes perfect cold, dry air—rare as hell. One time, in Nashvile (whoops, typo!), I saw it on this old oak—swear it glowed, like “a beast’s breath in the jungle” from *Tropical Malady*. I was shook—stood there freezin’ my ass off, just starin’. Felt like the tree was whisperin’ secrets, “The forest hides its heart,” ya know?

Scalawags, Rednecks, Mudsills and Swamp People: 400 Years on America’s Fringe

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dont get me started on the local hotspots: the mystery pub on Bayberry lane (seriously, the name sounds like a weird fairy tale). it's a place where locals spill tea, sometimes literally, and i’ve had the odd rant session there. plus, there's this hole-in-the-wall diner on Elm, that serves the dankest hotdogs. oh man, my counselor senses go off every time i see a stressed-out soul over a hotdog.

Focus on Great Neck Peninsula: Sherman, Reese carry on G.N.’s comedy tradition