Saturday Night Live

Deep thoughts

Michael Diskin — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 14:00:00 GMT

So … what are you? Are you an accountant? Are you a bartender? Maybe you’re a mom — or maybe you own your own business. And me? Well, to some people, I’m a graphic designer. To others, I’m considered a photographer. I guess you guys would probably call me a writer. And to my seven-year-old niece Erin — well, she likes to tell her friends down the street I’m a celebrity. Funny, the labels we gather over a life. Tonight, I’m sitting in the back of a cab on my way home from a fashion show I...

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Slumming it with Faraone

Chris Faraone — Mon, 18 May 2009 18:49:00 GMT

With Mike Diskin off in search of respectable ways to meet women, I thought it only appropriate to offer a far-less-classy counterpoint as I pinch hit for his column. So I dredged up a particularly debauched Saturday night from a few months ago that featured the two surefire sources for sordid hookups: trashy dating websites and sweaty, sketchy clubs. I could lie and say this just happened last week, but specifying that timeline could result in certain castration from the current object...

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Adventures in Ya Dudery

Michael Diskin — Mon, 04 May 2009 14:00:00 GMT

I’m creative. Well, at least that’s what the tattoo on my forearm translates to (I hope). That probably means I both appreciate and support the arts, right? I most likely frequent the museum, hit the opera once in a while, and show up at the ballet every time they change a program. One might even guess I can explain the difference between the BSO and the Pops. Um, yeah — not so much. See, I’m a reformed ya-dude. I grew up in a town north of Boston but, more importantly, just south of New...

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Cruising

Michael Diskin — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 12:57:00 GMT

I’m on vacation. As David Lee Roth once said, “I’ve got a drink in my hand, I’ve got my toes in the sand, now all I need is a beautiful girl.” I’m as relaxed as the hair on the head of any female lead in an Eddie Murphy movie. Ok, truth is, my toes aren’t in the sand, but I do have a drink in my hand — a big, gaudy plastic cup full of frozen booze that’s decorated with more fruit than the South End. Tonight, I’m chillin’ poolside on a Caribbean cruise. Okay, I’ll be the first to admit it....

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Sick of marriage

Chris Faraone — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 23:44:00 GMT

My assignment was simple: stand in for Mike Diskin while he takes his first vacation in six years and deliver anecdotes from my Saturday night festivities. In the words of my favorite rapper, I was commissioned to bring tales of demons and drugs, and of getting pissy drunk in the club while the DJ does the needle rub. But for my first installment, I decided to opt for something more refined: a story that involves love and happiness, health and sickness, binging, purging, a city where...

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Vacationland

Michael Diskin — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 20:59:00 GMT

Tonight, I’m doing something I haven’t done in nearly six years. The last time I did this, The Lord of the Rings was number one at the box office, Saddam Hussein was alive and in charge, and we were all still wondering if our beloved boys of summer would ever, ever earn themselves a ring. Are you ready for this? Tonight I’m planning a vacation. See, I’m what you might call a workaholic. For the past six years (I’ll pause for a moment to let that sink in), I have been on a professional crusade...

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Staying in for Valentine's

Michael Diskin — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 15:23:00 GMT

I thought for a long while about how I was going to write this. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure I was going to. I wondered if I could write about my Saturday night and not sound like a hater. I worried that I might come off as pathetic or lonely — or maybe worse, that I’d be seen as cocky, sounding picky and more full of myself than anyone really should be. And then I realized — you know what? I’m none of those things. I’m just an average guy who happens to have nothing to do on a Saturday...

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Married friends

Michael Diskin — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 21:28:00 GMT

As you regular readers are aware, I was once married. That means, not only do I have a lovely sentimental video of myself dancing to a Whitney Houston song, I also have a group of married friends that I used to spend time with when I was “under contract.” This Saturday night, we’re getting together to catch up. Quite a few things have changed since we last hung out. Most of my friends now have kids. Several of them have moved deep into the ’burbs. And me? Well, I have been given...

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Doing Time at the DMV

Michael Diskin — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 19:41:00 GMT

This is a story about responsibility. It’s a tale of a man and his inability to keep his day-to-day shit straight, and the penalty he had to pay because of it. I’m not proud that I’m an unorganized mess — I’m just dumb enough to admit it publicly. Do you see that picture up there? That’s the inspection sticker on my car. Funny thing about inspection stickers, you have to occasionally get them updated. From what I am told, it’s something most of you do annually. Not me. I tend to let it...

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'Twas The Weekend Before Christmas

Michael Diskin — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 20:42:00 GMT

Adventures in going out, staying in, and acting up ’Twas the weekend before Christmas, when all through the town, not much was going on; there was snow on the ground. Friends got together to honor the storm; you know the deal — order food, get wasted, and try to stay warm. I arrived at the apartment, bottle of Champagne in hand (it was open: I’d started celebrating earlier; hope they understand). My friend was in her PJs; a few others in same, so we decided to get high and play a...

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Gym nights

Michael Diskin — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 23:06:00 GMT

Adventures in going out, staying in, and acting up I need to get my ass to the gym. I’ve done nothing this week but work, drink, and eat. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for me, my job enables a slovenly lifestyle. Covering Boston’s nightlife is fun, but the excesses are many: a lunch meeting with a chef who wants you to try everything on his new menu; several glasses of red wine paired with a near-inappropriate inability to stop eating cheese chunks at an art gallery opening; a...

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The Yah Dude Problem

Michael Diskin — Sat, 29 Nov 2008 16:49:00 GMT

Okay, let’s play a little game. Let’s try to figure out if my new neighbor reads this column. I realize this seems way more entertaining for me than it does for you, but stick with me— there’s a method to my madness. So I think my new neighbor is an asshole. Once again, he’s managed to wake me up in the middle of the night. It’s 3:30 in the morning and I’m lying in bed listening to him and his friends attempt to kick in the front door of his apartment. It seems he’s had himself a wide variety...

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Birthdaying Vicariously

Michael Diskin — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 21:57:00 GMT

Adventures in going out, staying in, and acting up When it comes to birthdays, I believe most people fall into one of two categories: those who celebrate them, and those who don’t. I’m firmly in the latter category. I’ve never been a big fan of tooting my own horn — a statement I’m sure you find hard to believe, considering that I force you folks to read this self-serving crap every other week (and all too often include a photo of myself as well). TOOT! TOOT! But seriously, I hate being the...

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Nuclear differences

Michael Diskin — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 03:28:00 GMT

I'm the weirdo of my family — that’s for sure. They love me; they just don’t get me. It seems they have a hard time understanding what it is that makes me tick. I like to put Tabasco sauce on my baked potato; I wear sneakers with a suit; and I’m a 38-year-old man with an increasingly-more-salt-than-pepper faux hawk. Put it this way: in the biannual Diskin family Christmas photograph, I’m way easier to find than Waldo. (No, not the guy in the hat and striped sweater; my Uncle Waldo....

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Your turn

Michael Diskin — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 21:08:00 GMT

It’s a gorgeous Saturday night and I have absolutely nothing to do. Normally I wouldn’t care, but, as we all know, the town clown has a job to do. The villagers must be entertained. I’m expected to eat something foul, drink way too much, or end up reflecting on life in a place I’d most likely rather not be. Hmm ... I suppose I could just write about staying in, but I’ve done that before and quite honestly, it sucked the first time around. I think I want the night off. If this were a sexual...

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