Crazy but true stories, exaggerated tales, short fiction, and poignant reflections, neatly packaged for your enjoyment. Submit an article »
A few weeks ago, my brother Billy and I were driving home from game night at our sister's house in Willow Grove, a suburb of Philadelphia. We were listening to a sports radio talk show in the car. Never before this sudden predilection for radio talks shows had my brother ever expressed any interest in anything at all having to do with sports. Read More »
Arcing ropes of hot piping semen spewed forth from the hole in my rigid dong for the first time the very day Ronald Reagan was re-elected President. I was despondent about the election but at the same time relieved to finally be able to shoot something out of my cock. At least I could ignore the justice struggle for four years and focus all of my energies on stroking my dick. Read More »
I was sitting nervously in Stephane Colbert's cavernous rumpus room. A portly man spilling out of a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader's outfit waddled to the podium by the fireplace and began speaking.
"Welcome, everyone, to the North Jersey Chapter of Assholes Anonymous." Read More »
There's a noise outside my house. Why would someone be outside? It's well past midnight.
Is someone breaking in? Is this what it feels like?
I should put some clothes on. This is terrifying. I hear voices. What do I have in here? How do I protect myself? There's a candle. I'll use that. Read More »
It's taken me a lot to get to this point: taking a poop while on acid. But I felt as if this should be documented for the world to know. For those of you who never intend to drop acid, this is what it means to poop while tripping: everything. It means everything. I cannot explain this in greater detail as my senses only allow me this much but it is everything. Read More »
Two months into my relationship with Jen I started to get bored.
She didn't have any hobbies or interests, so beyond numbly watching reality TV, and the occasional sex, we didn't do much together. She wasn't ugly or anything, but nothing about her particularly stood out either. She was plainly pretty. Read More »
Poor Coco, my 1-year-old, 65-pound, positively loony standard poodle, was about to get his balls chopped off. There's just no delicate way to describe it, and I'm not sure whether under the circumstances we should tiptoe around anything or sugar coat the true nature of the event. Read More »
I remember the first time my old man used the F word in front of us. It wasn't like he muttered it underneath his breath as he has been known to do. He cashed his F word chip in around my brothers and me with a salty, heartfelt "MOTHER FUCKER." My father is a great man and even better dad, but everyone has their breaking points and Christmas was usually his. Read More »
Looking at my father, I can't help but think where his life would be if it weren't for ironed corduroy pants and television debates. He stares deep into the screen as an Indian politician demands for secularism, clapping his hands in enthusiastically blind agreement.
"What's going on with all the fighting in Kashmir?" I ask him. Read More »
Bernard knew he had skin cancer. He knew, for a fact, he didn't have that mole on his neck a couple of weeks ago.
Well, he was pretty sure he didn't. Read More »
In England we have a cycling and auto parts store called Halfords. It's kind of like a downsized Walmart meets a downsized Home Depot and combines their most useful products, but only gets the latter's customers. There are no Mexicans or blacks in Halfords, so it's an ideal place to drink your coffee if you're a racist. Read More »
The old man's penis looked like Santa Claus' nose poking through a grayish, bushy beard. All the old men's penises looked like that. These were the first adult penises I had ever seen, and as an 8-year-old, it scared me enough to make me feel uncomfortable changing in locker rooms for the rest of my life. Read More »
Monday starts like any other Monday for Carolyn: a dead antelope carcass in the bookcase, a vinyl Ludacris album skipping on the stereo, and a Rabbi reciting a fake Torah portion on The Jewish Channel. I nibble on some cold tomato soup as Carolyn emerges from her lair in the laundry room. She mutters something about a Beatles concert she went to in 2002 and then heads to the lavatory. Read More »
The boy did like to party. He went out every night of the week, and if he wasn't hanging out with his friends he was out dancing, drinking, or maybe going to a basketball game. Read More »
Touring and sharing small, intimate spaces with people you don't like being intimate with is tough. Hi, I'm James, guitarist to a rock-band extraordinaire that our lawyers have wisely advised under no circumstance should be affiliated with my writing and all names changed to protect the innocent. Want to know the highs and lows of touring with a top-notch, moderately successful rock outfit? Read More »