I’ve lived in Charleston, South Carolina for almost 12 years. Being one of the oldest cities in the US, it has experienced many changes and boom times. But I doubt it’s ever experienced the influx of tourists and attention that it has in the last decade. When I could still stomach watching “Chopped” on the Food Network, one year a whole season of that show seemed to feature a different chef from Charleston on every episode. By the end of that season I think the only people left off Chopped was the street meat purveyors and a Subway sandwich tech from the King Street location.
I think you get the point. Charleston exposure is nearing overkill. If there were a magazine for dogs they’d be ranking the “Top Ten Places in Charleston to take a Crap.” I’m glad that my city is popular and that people are willing to come here and spend their money. I really am. The traffic is decidedly more horrible, but progress comes with a price.
Being a “local” in a popular tourist destination puts you in a precarious position. On the one hand, you want to share your home and what you love about it with people who are interested. On the other, you want to be able to go to your favorite joints without waiting in line behind giant men in tank tops who saw the place on Rachel Ray.
I pretended to be a tourist for a day to see what it was like. I guess you could call this a “Local acting like a tourist’s guide to Charleston.” Continue reading
Yep, I did that. That’s the light. You know, THIS light. It didn’t fall or break on it’s own. It was working perfectly fine. But I lost my mind and now it’s broken. Continue reading
I have always been jealous of people who could work a drill. I just don’t have that talent. Both of my grandfathers did. One was a brick engineer and the other one ran a successful construction company. Well, they’d be proud of their grandson today because I just finished installing a light fixture in my bedroom and it only took me two weeks and so many trips to Lowes that I now qualify for part-time benefits. Continue reading
In preparation for one of the 40 weddings I am invited to this year (always the bridesmaid never the bride…er…right?) I entered a dry-cleaner with some garments I hoped still fit. They’ve been shrinking a lot of things, lately, even stuff I never brought in. I realized, as I handed over two shirts that apparently take five days to clean, that this place hasn’t changed in thirty years. Dry-cleaners evolve like granite. I have more computing power in my pocket than they have in their whole store and yet we still pay them $4 a shirt? For what? Continue reading
I think we should be wasting more tin foil. People act like it’s so precious. They take care to pull out just enough. Why so delicate? Meanwhile, we use plastic wrap like it’s nothing.
Currently, there’s 800 square miles of plastic wrap floating off the coast of California, but we keep using it to cover that half of a Coke you’re saving for later. Tin foil isn’t choking our oceans but people ration it like it’s 1935. Continue reading
Hipsters have ruined bacon. I have a sack of it in my fridge, but I don’t celebrate it like some Wiccan stump worshiper. I pretty much only eat it in the summer with good tomatoes. It doesn’t have to be on every damn thing. Bacon has basically become a condiment in the US. Soon, there will be a plate of it next to the salt on every table. It’s time to say enough with this bacon obsession. Things have gotten out of hand. Just look at Arby’s. Continue reading
I’m really getting tired of Thanksgiving Survival Guides. I wrote one about Christmas parties here. It stinks. Why would you need a “survival guide” for a party? Everyone thinks that other people’s Thanksgivings are filled with normal relatives and wonderful tradition. That’s a load of junk. Your dysfunction and awkward holiday moments are unique to you and everyone has them. People who really need survival guides aren’t so lucky.
Now tuck in to Me-maw’s creaky antique dinette set, enjoy the day and don’t be an ass.