I think I accidentally bought my wife porn. My wife was in dire need of a new book. She had just finished the critically and commercially-acclaimed The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach (which, though I recommended, I have yet to read) and was impatiently waiting for me to finish the next book on her list,… Read more »
Oh the 2012 Olympics! I’ve been glued to my couch since the opening ceremonies in awe of these athletes. From the blood, sweat, and tears, to the bulges in the pants of the men’s gymnastic teams, the Olympics are right up my alley. I admire the hard work and dedication of these unbelievable people, especially since… Read more »
Four years ago, I got a Permobil wheelchair which I nicknamed my Cadillac. I remember the first day I took her for a spin—I was amazed by how seamlessly she turned and how smoothly she traveled, not to mention her hydraulic seat lift and front and rear-wheel headlights and blinkers. I couldn’t believe how independent… Read more »
I try to be an environmental sort of fellow, an eco-friendly kind of person, a so-called “Green” in Conservative parlance, but at a certain point, certain people of a certain disposition might end up counting their chickens and their eggs and then say, certainly, “I give up.” Per my parenting adventures, I would like to… Read more »
I am dating someone new, and he recently called me out on not having a top sheet on my bed. He’s right. I do not have a top sheet on my bed. I am almost 29 years old, and I have never once put a top sheet on my bed. I wouldn’t even know how… Read more »
I have recently found myself wondering what kind of stay-at-home dad I am going to be. There are so many options. The Goofy Geeky Awkward Stay-At-Home Dad? I have been trying to avoid that kind of persona for quite a few years now, so, definitively, No. The Aloof Stay-At-Home Dad? No. The Smooth Well-Dressed Well-Coiffed… Read more »
I saw this 1967 Chevelle on 81st Street last night and was taken back to a moment at the John Jay pool, late summer, right before 8th grade. It was an after-dinner swim and there was a sweet evening breeze. Freddy Muller and I were playing that stupid game popular with 13-year-old boys: taking as much… Read more »
