He thinks putting cream in his coffee is getting in touch with his softer side.

Money is the answer. What was the question, again?

BOSS: How did my talk today go over?
ME: About as well as usual.
BOSS: Thank you.
ME: That wasn’t a compliment.

with the dog groomer is that she smells like dog shampoo, and sometimes I feel like I’m fucking my Hungarian puli. Then my wife smells it and she complains that I’m more affectionate with the dog than with her. God, she’s a bitch.

by Tia Creighton   Starts everything. Finishes nothing. Cuts the garnish but doesn’t gild the dish. Never sees a plated meal. Bikes home with the stench of kitchen on him. Prep cook. Read Tia Creighton’s bio.

Mary Dacton had reached a point where she no longer thought work could be anything better than drudgery. Her job as a copy editor—daily paper, mid-size market—was the one thing that had once given her satisfaction, especially the mundane triumphs of catching someone else’s error or winning an argument about punctuation. But over the years, […]

about hitting rock bottom.

just killing the pain.

I’m squatting with my right knee angled to prop the fridge door open, a human doorstop. One hand holds an opened carton of milk, the cap now clamped under the pinky finger, which reduces my control over the half-gallon container as I raise it. The other hand has a harder task. The fingers wrap around […]

KID: Why is Uncle Mike’s house so dusty? WIFE: He’s getting older, sweetheart. We should see about getting him a housekeeper. ME: Did you know the biggest component of dust is dead skin cells? We were pretty much breathing Uncle Mike’s old dermis the whole time.