Clearly, if I would have let Lauryn watch the stupid-stupid TV show, Yo Gabba Gabba! I would already understand this basic tenet regarding friends and biting. (Though Lauryn and I used to play a back-and-forth game where I would ask, “Can I bite a juicy apple?” And she would say, “Yes.” “Can I bite a juicy pear?” “Yes.” “Can I bite a juicy peach?” “Yes.” “Can I bite a juicy watermelon?” “Y...

You likely don't get to interact with magazine reviewers on a daily basis. You might read an article, think, "Hmm, I'd sure like to ask so-and-so what he meant by this," then turn the page, stare off into space, drain your glass of [insert appropriate/favorite smooth oaky, smokey, single barreled beverage here] and likely forget whatever your thought was as you move on to the next story. Turning the page, erasing your Memento-level memory of whatever it was you were thinki...

Traded some e-mails with my high school English/journalism teacher recently. (I must halt the narrative for a moment here to inject that when you read the title “high school journalism teacher” you are likely thinking of an older, powdery-haired, bespectacled woman that sits regally at a desk sipping herbal tea, while quietly making notes on papers with a red pen and smelling like pressed flowers. That’s YOUR high school teacher. Mine was different. Jod...

It’s not every day that you get to be called someone’s “writer hero.” (I’ve not even managed to pull down that kind of a compliment from Lauryn; though I think I am her hero whenever I resolve any kind of non-TV-working situation. Especially if there is an imminent Dino Dan or Wubbzy involved.) It happens even less frequently that you find yourself placed in the same sentence alongside Papa Hemingway. (And, perhaps more importantly, not a sentence ...

This post – this ONE; the one you’re reading right here -- is my 300th. Which I figured was milestone enough to, well, at least mention. And then make a blog of it.

And since several of you – principally my dad who never misses an opportunity to comment about my stories being long, WAY too long; some guy named Ted who wrote that I write “an oftentimes long-winded blog"; Jeremy G,...

Now, I've been chiding fellow technology journalist, Darryl Wilkinson, about lots of things. But really, I kid because I love. And begrudgingly respect. And Darryl seems more than able to take it along with dishing-out buffet-sized heapings of...it. Darryl has been sending me fairly frequent text messages about the "beautiful people status at Panerai." Darryl visits Panerai so often that he is either a major shareholder, or fighting -- and losing -- some ...

Originally, this blog thingy started out as a way for me to get my name out there; to help promote the writing juggernaut which is The Sciacca. The girl that managed the Website for a company that I was writing for, Jennifer C, called me and said, “Hey, what’s your personal Website address? We want to help promote you on our site.” And you would have thought that I just told her that I was endorsing and actively campaigning for Bush for a third term by the sta...

My favorite children's book is called "No dessert until you've finished your mashed potatoes." Though, to be honest, calling this a "children's book" is a bit of a stretch as it is pretty mature, with the illustrations far more resembling Addam's Family style drawings and settings, and I have repeatedly told Lauryn she isn't old enough yet for this particular bedtime story. But what I love about that book is that each page has a simple black-and-white drawing with a brilliant, biting caption ...

Through activity on a LinkedIn discussion group (a more business-like Facebook, where people actually seem to go to discuss business ideas instead of describing the chunks of stuff found in their cat’s vomit or Justin Bieber’s hair), a marketing guy from New Jersey whom I’ll call Ted (mainly because his name is, in fact, Ted) found my story on the The Great Unfortunateness and decided to run his own post on it. (Here is a link to it:

This story is about how I got into writing.

But first, it’s about Becky Frodsham. Because, well, for a girl that I never even said a single word to, she changed my life and has a role in this story.

Travel back in time with me, will you, to the late ‘80s. I’m going to high school in Northern California. I think of myself as a pretty typical high schooler, possibly with mid-to-strong nerdlinger tendencies. I’m not A/V club material ...