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Surprise Yacht Party, And You’re Invited. (Bring Your Dancing Shoes)

In: Feeling Dead and Uninspired

I hope you're not disappointed; today, you'll find no bold claims, lofty theories, societal questionings, smart ass commentaries or any other typical Middle Finger Project topics.  We'll save those for Monday.

Today, we're gonna have a little party.  Right here, right now.  Go ahead, crank the Spice Girls.

Just kidding, because the Spice Girls wouldn't be played on a yacht, and that's exactly where this imaginary party of ours is taking place.  Yes, a warm ocean breeze caresses your face, as you take a sip of your Dom Pérignon (that's right, you're a baller), and sashay on over to the shrimp cocktail.  It's a black tie event, and you can't help but admit that you're looking rather attractive.  Alright, so you're looking extremely attractive.  Props.

Wait–was that P. Diddy who just landed on the helipad?

No, that's actually me. Because this is my fantasy party and clearly I'd be the one landing on the helipad.  Although Diddy is more than welcome.

But why are we having an imaginary lavish yacht party, you ask?  Good question.  The short answer?  Because I can't afford a real one. (Yet.)  However, if I were to have the means to throw all of the readers, supporters, followers, fans and FRIENDS of The Middle Finger Project a real lavish yacht party, I would.  Because you deserve it.

I wanted to make this an exclusive post for you all today, giving my utmost sincere thanks to each and every one of you.  I cannot tell you how humbled I've been since I began this website back in November, and I owe its climbing success to its readers, who are, without a doubt, some of the most badass, top-shelf people around.

You guys have given me your time, your attention and most of all, your encouragement, for which I am endlessly grateful.  Every time a comment is made on a post, I recognize the time that you've put into constructing it–especially considering the thoughtful, in-depth nature of most of them–and I truly cannot thank you enough.  You guys make me excited to leap out of bed every morning, and that's no exaggeration.  (Is it too soon to pronounce my undying love for you?)

So with that, this toast post goes to you.

From my heart,  thank you. 

Now drink up–it's open bar!  (But be careful not to fall over the side, because, frankly, that would suck.  And I have no idea how to drive a yacht in a straight line, let alone make a U-turn.

Oct 25


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You know what’s fucked up? Normal. Normal is so fucked up. For example, it’s normal for expats to drink daily in Costa Rica. This is a terrible idea, and yet, because it’s done over and over again, it’s become normalized. NO ONE WILL GIVE YOU THE STINK EYE FOR SLUGGING A BEER AT 10AM, Y’ALL. […]

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I Hate Mantras, And YET—I Love This One for When You’re Kinda Sorta Shitting Your Pants

I have a mantra (despite wanting to slit my throat upon hearing the word “mantra.”) Are you ready? My mantra is this: WHO CARES HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT IT? GO ANYWAY. Which sounds really kinda wrong, right? We’re a culture based on f-e-e-e-e-e-e-l-i-n-g-s. But sometimes, you have to override the ones that I call false […]

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Marilyn Monroe Wouldn’t Give a Damn.

Remember earlier this year… …when I sauntered over to Ecuador and had a twelve year old pierce my nose, as well as agreed to having a random Ecuadorian man sit on top of me on the beach to doodle all over my back with a mysterious black, sticky ink? Maybe we didn’t know each other […]

In: Feeling Dead and Uninspired


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