WIL WHEATON dot NET

Today’s title brought to you by “I have no idea what to call this, so I’ll quote Vacation and hope for the best.”

I have written for, and been published by, some fancy publications, including the Wall Street Journal and the Washington Post, Salon, and … well, at least two more that I can remember turning in, but not who I turned them in to (being middle aged is GREAT!

I swear to all the gods, the Grim Reaper is really fucking up.

About twenty years ago, when I was in the Saturday show at the ACME Comedy Theatre, a friend of mine who I wrote with for the show encouraged me to check out one of her students who was in the Sunday show.

I am holding pink pages in my hand, reviewing them before I collate them into my script.

It feels like it was about 18 months ago, but could be as long as three years ago, that my friend told me about a TV show he was developing.

Earlier today, a really fun memory surfaced that I wanted to share, because I haven’t had an opportunity to tell a story in a little while.

“Still punk as fuck,” I whisper to myself, as I slide new Orthotic insoles into my Converse.

A couple weeks ago, I got fed up with my body feeling sore all the time because I’m not taking better care of it.

In an average year, I travel to around 5 or 6 cities for conventions.