Since many of our friends in other cities have included lists of the best places to cry on campus in their back-to-school guides, we thought it would be fun—if not a bit depressing, in a shameless click-whorey kind of way—to expand such a survey to an entire metro region.
He made up a fictitious ideal reader named Spike. The memo read, “Spike works in advertising, but he goes to punk clubs at night,” and this and that. Fuck you and die.
A former anti-dentite opens up his mouth and mind
Inspired by those utterly insane events, a few of us here at the Dig hatched the idea to write a two-man play about this greatest recent road rage ruination.
On the cable set in Somerville in August, Elsa Riot is doing her damndest to sync up an impromptu rendition of the herky-jerky Beach Blanket Bingo routine with a ruthless sonic pummeling by way of a group of apparent Motörhead adherents.
From there, you can trade phone numbers and info, or most likely never chat at all and simply sit in one another’s matches for eternity, our avatars an ongoing reminder of an alternate universe where we may have met, fallen in love, and perhaps co-authored a series of racially sensitive flip books for children.
We really do know Keyboard Cat by proxy, and the interview below is absolutely the closest thing you are going to get to an actual celebrity cat-on-cat interview.
When you say that you “are addicted to traveling,” or something comparably thoughtless and privileged, you are essentially saying that you can’t for the life of you understand why everyone else isn’t as interested in globe-trotting as you are.
Boston’s Alternative to Punch Buggy
So you’re tooling around town on a summer evening with nothing to do, but you’re sick of playing Punch Buggy—the ancient game where you shout “PUNCH BUGGY” and the color of any Volkswagen Beetle you see… followed by a (mock) punch to whatever part ...
Our editor picks up the hot new toy habit, predicts the fidget spinner’s here to stay