It’s playoff season. If you hate sports as much as I do, but hate missing out on the gluttony, I’ve got a new piece for you on The Awl:

With the NFL playoffs underway, multitudes of jock-averse women and effeminate, girlie men (like me) find themselves facing a challenging predicament over the next couple of weeks. On one hand, forgoing a “Millionaire Matchmaker” marathon on Bravo to watch a playoff game at a sports bar seems excruciating. Still, missing out on the camaraderie and, more importantly, the gluttony of the playoffs is even more upsetting. After all, nothing’s more fun than gorging oneself on well-prepared wings, burgers and quality beer, activities which can make any sporting event—even basebal!—entertaining.

The question, of course, is where can New Yorkers go to make the experience bearable. Those who are disinclined to jerseys, vomit, beer pong and getting their asses beat, should obviously steer clear of Nevada Smiths, the Pourhouse and the other frat houses that make up Third Avenue’s bro-row. Especially since there are plenty of superior alternatives. Granted, there’s no way to avoid the crowds or the meatheads when a big game is on, but here are a few establishments worth checking out for those among us more interested in the food and the beer than the homoerotic opera known as the NFL.

Find out where to go over at The Awl.

I interviewed the Humanimal for Vice:

If you’re one of the few who saw Guy Ritchie’s latest film, RocknRolla, you may recall a scene where a Chechnyan thug chases Gerard Butler through a tunnel. The pursuer in question is a strikingly buff 34-year-old Russian-born Londoner named Alex Kovas, a model/actor who may be more familiar to you licking his “paws” in head-to-toe Cheetah bodypaint. Though RocknRolla is his biggest mainstream acting break, Alex Kovas has been thrilling online audiences for years as The Humanimal. To date, over 700,000 YouTube viewers have watched Kovas transform himself into Dalmations, unicorns, zebras, and dozens of other creatures using an impressively detailed mix of bodypaint and prosthetics. Reactions to this “art project” range from awe to amusement to disgust:

22tus says:
MY SEARCH IS OVER , I HAVE FINALLY FOUND THE MOST DISTURBING THING ON THE INTERNET!

severin24 says:
YOU are my hero. I love people who take self-expression into art.

wollygogles says:
This is the kind of shit you get up to when you’re long-term unemployed and left alone in the house for too long. Your girlfriend leaves for work at 7am. You get out of bed at 1pm. By 2pm you’re already sick of watching Jeremy Kyle abuse the poor on TV–so you explore the house–and happen upon your GF’s make-up bag and then BOOM! You’re outside recording yourself and wadda you know …you’re a fucking Deer!

Adipocerate says:
Brilliant? Yes. Inspired? Yes. Creepy as hell? Verily. As all art should be.

MrTsBastardChild says:
I’d like to have sex with that deer.

Read the rest at Vice Magazine: THE HUMANIMAL ISN’T IN IT FOR THE KICKS.

My latest piece over at The Awl:

As crazy as it seems now, when I was a freshman in high school I was convinced that my life was going to end, healthy and unadulterated, sometime before December 31st 1988. Of course it’s common for sensitive teens to consider their mortality during those tumultuous years when the hormones start to kick in. But I was different. While other kids pondered death in the conventional fashion—that is, contemplating suicide while listening to the Smiths’ “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now”—I came to terms with my mortality the old fashioned way. I learned about it in church.

Read it all.