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Just because I wore all denim to a wedding doesn't mean I'm down with Mumford & Sons.
I hope to die doing what I love: Creating content.
I try to be a good house guest, but I never know if I should leave the toilet seat up or down after I finish rummaging through the medicine cabinet.
If time travel isn’t possible, then how on God’s green earth do you explain Colonial Williamsburg?
Idle hands are the devil’s playthings. Idle feet are the devil’s kink.
I'm not a life coach yet, but I was recently promoted to assistant life equipment manager.
I asked my wife to get better about communicating her feelings, so she started making regular adjustments to my life insurance coverage.
Funny men attract hot women and funny women attract hate comments on Twitter.
Realty advice: rather than “haunted,” try “talkative” or “in high spirits.”
I'm so proud of my son for starting his lemonade stand. How many kids put in the work to launder stolen lunch money?
It was the best of rhymes, it was the worst of fives.
After further inspection, “boyfriend material” revealed to be cheap polyester blend.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me once, I’m still learning how sequencing works.
September 31 was the day I realized I needed a calendar.
I'm going out on a limb, preferably my legs.
The worst part about being blonde is that people assume you’re having fun.
“That’s show biz, kid,” I whisper to myself after making yet another decision I know will make my life worse but definitely more interesting.
“I can fix him,” says the vet, examining my new pet Rottweiler who ruthlessly humps anything in his path.
Some call it self-loathing, I call it empathizing with the people who know me.
Say what you will about the Large Hadron Collider, but it keeps particle physicists off the streets.