This Year I’m Not Going to Eat All of the Candy I Bought for the Trick-or-Treaters
The big bag is a safer purchase. Now it won’t be the end of the world if I have one. I’d hate to disappoint the kids two years in a row.
The big bag is a safer purchase. Now it won’t be the end of the world if I have one. I’d hate to disappoint the kids two years in a row.
It’s a zero-sum game out there. Every piece of candy you don’t get goes into the gaping, cavity-filled maw of some other kid.
Nonna’s soup needs to be simmered in a big-bottomed cauldron for 14 days and 14 nights. Do you know how hard it is to find a premium cauldron in New York?
A handful of those tri-colored diabetic nightmares leave me physically ill with my head pulsing in pain. And guess what? I’m into it.
What do we do with all the identities people pay with? That’s none of your business. They were handed over in a totally legitimate transaction.
I met you at a time of great need in my life. That need? More readers for my newsletter where I rank pizza shops based on taste, texture, and sauce ratio.
A black olive is a pipe dream and an avocado would sooner appear in a lasagna than in this salad.
Error: Place all scanned items in the bagging area, even the 50-pound bag of dog food. Figure it out. The rules of our game have been made very clear.
Four hours into this will have you wishing you traded in the hallucinogenics for something with a little more parmesan and a little less cow dung.
I’ve read hundreds of lists of all the foods that I should avoid and it turns out you should avoid basically everything.
The grocer is like heaven, everyone exalts it, but no one wants to go there now.
It’s not like I expected you to use me every meal. You can’t have basil all the time, I get it. I’ll be here when you need me, I said.