Hipster Puppet Boy
Coming Up: Jon Paul follows the Crumm and falls under the spell of a hipster puppet boy.
Ever since I fell in love with the sassy puppets along Avenue Q, all it takes is the whisper that a furry hand sock might make an appearance in a show for me to get over my reservations about a production and reserve a seat. And so it was with the musical F#%king Up Everything with music, lyrics and book by David Eric Davis with Sam Forman as an additional book writer, currently running at the Elektra Theatre in New York’s Times Scare.
The Way We Were
Coming Up: Memories of a life-changing moment.
Standing amidst debris from the fallen towers—a PowerPoint presentation, an old expense report, corners of photos once tacked to a cubicle—I knew that I had crossed a threshold in life. Not so much a loss of innocence. Lord, when had I ever been innocent? But a recognition of vulnerability.
Best Job Around The World
Coming Up: JP tells you how to pack your bags and get paid $100k to travel the world!
If I had a nickle for every time someone asked me, “How can I be your assistant and stow away in your bags on your next trip?” then, well, I would have amassed enough coinage to have launched Jauntaroo–a vacation matchmaker site–that happens to be searching for a “Chief World Explorer.”
Using Blogs to Grow a Small Business
Coming Up: Jon Paul teams up with Wells Fargo & The Advocate to provide tips on growing an LGBT small business using social media.
As a small business owner, no doubt your time is at a premium. So if you already have a company website, Facebook page and Twitter account, you might be asking yourself, “Do I really need a blog, too?” The answer might surprise you.
Turn on a Dime—The Socialite (part 1)
Coming Up: Chef Juan Pablo lands in the kitchen of The Mrs.—a wealthy, plastic surgery addicted character crazier than any Real Housewife of NYC. He’s stunned by her demands—and the money.
The Mrs. was crazy. There could be no doubt about that. The upstairs maids from Honduras, the downstairs maids from Guatemala, the Puerto Rican house boy, the two Dominican drivers, the Cuban security guards, and the three Colombian nannies all referred to our mistress as The Mrs.—as if she were a flamboyant character straight out of a Telemundo telenovela. Between her collagen-inflated lips, her Botox-smoothed forehead, her surgically enhanced boobs, and her temper tantrums, The Mrs. had all the talents of a trashy TV temptress.
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