Looking back, I have to be completely honest about how we started. I was a successful business owner in my 40s. She was a 23-year-old hostess. That kind of age and power gap creates an inherent instability, a skewed foundation that I didn’t fully acknowledge at the time. I wanted to protect her, but I see now how overwhelming that dynamic must have been for a young woman trying to find her footing while dating her boss.
At first, I never looked at her as dating material. But one slow night, I gave her a ride home and suddenly felt a profound impulse to kiss her. We ended up dating on and off for 11 years. I tried to break it off a few times because she was struggling deeply with her mental health—eventually diagnosed as a form of bipolar disorder—and had left college. But she never wanted to part ways, so for long stretches, we simply lived together almost like roommates.
Then, I noticed Margot.
|
|
|
|
There’s a sparring partner at the dojo where I train Jeet Kune Do and Filipino martial arts who is unlike anyone else. There’s something about him that just makes you want to smack him. Maybe it’s the condescending grimace, or the perfectly molded hair, or the way he stands there—silent, stoic, unflinching—daring you to take your best shot.
I see him every day. Multiple times a day. And I’m not the only guy who has hit, kicked, stabbed, or shot at him. He’s been a training partner to Chuck Norris. Once you start looking for him, you’ll see that he’s everywhere. He’s in Creed, getting worked by Adonis in a Philly gym. He’s in Deadpool, because of course he is. This would be BOB, the Body Opponent Bag, a heavy bag shaped like a hulking and formidable fighter with neatly coiffed hair. BOB is the greatest piece of martial-arts equipment ever created, and he’s got quite a story to tell.
|
|
|
|
On a Monday in June, like almost every Monday for the past two years, my brother and I walk into Gertrude’s, a bistro at the corner of Carlton and St. Mark’s in Brooklyn. The evening air sways through the covered patio, where the general manager greets us with a smile while sporting a striped party hat—it is, after all, Gertrude’s third-birthday party.
Inside, it’s already buzzing. Whitefish croquettes are shuffled from the kitchen as freshly filled Nick and Nora glasses leave the bar. Balloons bounce on the ceiling, blown around by the air conditioner; someone turns up the stereo. The shelves behind the bar, lined with wooden and rubber ducks of all varieties, are trimmed with rainbow garland. As we settle onto our stools, we’re suddenly congratulated by one of the owners—it is, as it happens, our hundredth visit, or as one server puts it, our centennial.
|
|
|
|
The Chateau Marmont, Hollywood’s supposedly hottest hangout, was dead.
It was pushing 9:00 p.m., and I’d been standing by the pool with a tray of tequila cosmos for two hours. The only partygoers to drink them, brand and PR reps for 1800 Tequila who were hosting the event, waved me off to pace themselves. How much money went into buying out the Chateau pool, transforming the patio of chaises and umbrellas into a nightclub lounge, building the pop-up bar, and hiring the army of caterers in which I’d been enlisted, only for no one to show?
|
|
|
|
And here I thought the president was supposed to be good at making deals, not breaking them.
From the far-left lunatics at ... one second … The Wall Street Journal: "It was almost midnight in Brussels, and the leaders of Europe were locked in their fifth hour of an emergency meeting with a single theme for discussion: How to manage a breakup with America."
|
|
|
|
It doesn’t matter how far I’m traveling; if I’m going farther than just to work and back, there are some things I need in my bag. In any case, I won’t feel safe without headphones and chargers. And when I’m flying, I have a few more of my favorite tech companions stuffed inside my carry-on, including a massage gun, an iPad, and a sleep mask. It’s not all about power; sometimes I need entertainment, productivity . . . or just plain peace.
These are the gadgets that give me everything I need, no matter where in the world I go. Without them, I’d probably lose my mind before I even stepped on the jet bridge. From plane essentials to the award-worthy gadgets I need once I’m there, these are the pieces of travel tech I won’t fly (or drive the rental car) without taking with me. Everything else is superfluous.
|
|
|
|
|
