The Delicate Parental Art of Preventing and Putting Out Fires
My parents' top priority wasn't a clean room or fresh air, but fire safety. This is why I had a 15-foot fire ladder in my second-floor bedroom.
My parents' top priority wasn't a clean room or fresh air, but fire safety. This is why I had a 15-foot fire ladder in my second-floor bedroom.
Once dressed, I sit at my desk and say a quick prayer to Dionysus. Then I take hold of the mighty pen and let his spirit take hold of my body.
Lucky, the dog I had growing up, was a living, breathing creature. Black Shuck, on the other hand, is a ghostly apparition fueled by bloodlust.
If room 237 needed to be checked-in on (as it always seemed to) but I wasn't really feelin' it, I just wouldn’t do it, and nobody ever got mad.
Fitbitting, isn't like any of my previous sports - it's even more demanding. A real Fitbitter would see the opportunity in every inefficiency.
A stupid newborn baby wailing away doesn't care that you're about to make out with the King of Sting himself. Here's how to shut that brat up.
My darkened bedroom alights like a hidden Celtic burial chamber on the first morning of winter, my bed an altar as sleep once again is sacrificed.
First of all, son, I'm not angry with you for peeking downstairs. I just want you to tell Daddy more about the man you saw Mommy kissing, okay?
Rejecting the opportunity to Google duck penises all night on the internet just to have sex with someone is a slap in the face to Bill Gates.
DOCTOR: First, your brain. It’s no good. You have a condition known as neuromaniacosis. It means you whine too much.
Hey Dad, I just want to reassure you: I'm not worried about the future. Not even the tiniest amount. Because I'm going to inherit billions of dollars.
Mar-a-Lago, Trump Tower in New York, Trump Tower in Chicago, all safely outside the war zone. Every single direction, up, down, I built them all.