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Written by Alan Phillips on Thursday, 19 August 2010 00:00
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The Once & Future Ex
My heart sank as I read the words on my phone: It's over. Couples break up every day. Relationships are difficult. They require hard work, compromise, and still situations arise forcing each party to ask themselves, "Is this person really worth it?"
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Written by Alan Phillips on Thursday, 22 July 2010 00:00
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Schmabobble At 7:30, the alarm trumpets in my ear and reverberates through my brain. I can feel my pulse behind my clinched eyes. I am aching and disoriented, trying to figure out where I am, how I got here, what my name is. Although I have only spotted memories of the previous day, all signals indicate it is Monday. I will spend the next several hours, even days, trying to piece together the disconnected images and bits of conversations that made up Sunday Funday.
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Written by Alan Phillips on Thursday, 17 June 2010 00:00
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Situational Cuteness "That guy's cute!" I glanced around at passing cars to identify the cute guy my friend, Stephen, was talking about. My eyes landed on a very confusing suspect standing along the side of the road.
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Written by Alan Phillips on Thursday, 20 May 2010 00:00
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Oh, For The Love of God Admittedly, I have fantasized about hooking up with one of the many hot boys from my high school. Unfortunately, Brian was not one of those guys. Brian and I were barely acquaintances in high school, much less friends. Truth be told, in the entire four year period he and I maybe spoke a collective 10 sentences to one another. But one random afternoon, nearly fifteen years later, there he was, suddenly engaging me on Facebook. I assumed we would exchange pleasantries, as virtual strangers would do. I assumed wrong.
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Written by Alan Phillips on Thursday, 22 April 2010 00:00
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Game, Set, Mismatch “You have a good approach, but no follow through.”
I must have heard this constructive criticism from my tennis coach at least three times a week. The statement was annoyingly redundant, but it was even more annoyingly accurate.
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Written by Alan Phillips on Thursday, 05 August 2010 00:00
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Definitely Not George Monday morning, in a five minute break between an overload of meetings, I got a text message that read, “Hey, Good seeing you this weekend.” The number was saved under “Definitely Not George.” I vaguely remember entering this name in my phone, but I couldn't quite recall why...or who “Definitely Not George” was.
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Written by Alan Phillips on Thursday, 01 July 2010 00:00
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Arrested Development
Although every word I write has underlying evidence of my true personality, a lot of what I say is tongue-in-cheek, so I assume readers will take it with a grain of salt. It is for that reason that, after a year of writing this column, I find it amazing when someone not only takes the time to read the meandering thoughts I spew onto the page, but actually finds some piece of information worth mentioning to me. It is even more disturbing when said someone is a guy I like.
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Written by Alan Phillips on Thursday, 03 June 2010 00:00
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Routine Maintenance Four weeks ago I reminded myself that I had six weeks until Gay Days in Orlando. Six weeks to eat right, work out and get a tan. The timeframe was totally doable, and this time I was going to do it. Now here I am two weeks away from a weekend of tone bodies in tiny bathing suits, wondering where the last four weeks went.wrong.
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Written by Alan Phillips on Thursday, 06 May 2010 00:00
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Bad Romance
When my mother called to tell me that my grandmother died, I didn't cry. It is pretty common knowledge that I am emotionally stoic. In fact, only a few close friends have ever had the unfortunate experience of actually seeing me cry. These emotional outbreaks were always fueled by an excess of alcohol, and it is for that reason that I don't use Red Bull as a mixer. Sometimes it's just better to pass out.
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Written by Alan Phillips on Thursday, 01 April 2010 00:00
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NFT
The Widow Jones would try desperately to defend her honor against the recent accusations that she was the whore of the retirement community. Against the slanderous words and judgmental looks, she would try to disprove the metaphorical scarlet letter branded to her chest.
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