Look, I’m not just here on this earth to entertain you. Go on your own damned trip if you want more travel stories. Personally, I’m tired. I want to be in one place for a while. I want to own a jar of mustard and some odor-free towels. I want a sensible, English-speaking telephone that doesn’t require a card to operate. I want a Brita On Tap filter that removes 99% of the lead from my drinking water while adding a splash of style to my kitchen. I want an ORiNOCO Gold 802.11g wireless card with 128-bit encryption that allows me to maintain my wireless lifestyle. I want 400-thread-count sheets. I want area rugs that create the illusion of separate rooms where there is, in fact, only one room. I want a robotic lawn mower that not only mows my grass but also mulches. But first I need a lawn.
So you’re going to have to make do with “Ivy League navel-gazing” for a while, which is really all I’ve ever had to offer anyway.
But I promise this will be good. Oh, the stories I have lined up for you. I don’t want to give too much away, but here’s a little teaser: I already have waiting for publication a true-life tale involving several dozen monkeys that takes place on the streets of Philadelphia. I really do. The story isn’t some sort of half-witted joke, but rather further evidence that my parents are aliens.
And if my well of monkey stories ever runs dry, I will go out of my way to generate excitement. I’ll attend the circus! I’ll become the target of a class-action lawsuit! I’ll rent a 15-foot truck and go on a rampage downtown, just as I did in San Francisco! How many exclamation points will it take before you’re convinced?!
Oh, and another thing: I will most certainly not be chronicling my love life online. It is at once extremely disturbing and not at all surprising how many requests I get for “a little more skin” on this web site. Do you people even realize what you’re asking? Apparently not. Here’s a sample: “With a practiced flick of the wrist, I ripped off my tearaway pants and flung them aside. Rigoberta’s eyes widened in delight at the sight of my leather french-cut…”
If you have an internet connection and you’re looking for smut, may I suggest you check out one of the approximately 10 trillion sites devoted wholeheartedly to the topic? However, if you understandably need to have Adam Stein-themed pornography, I suggest you write some yourself and submit it to fanfiction.net. And, please, if at all possible, have me appear in flagrante delicto with Madeleine Albright. Thank you.
