Category: Confessions


An Oral History Of The Time We Watched “Selena” In 10th Grade.

The year was 1998. Selena had just been released on VHS, and a nation of 10th grade second-language instructors quivered in delight. This was the movie they had waited for. Stand and Deliver (1988) had run its course, and Dangerous Minds (1995) was much too intense for honors-level Spanish students. Enter Jennifer Lopez, and a heart-shattering tale of fame, jealousy and betrayal.

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My Secrets To Healthy Living

The old saying goes “Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a pauper.” So every morning I pillage my neighbor’s oatmeal and newspaper because I’m the Viking King. Then I don’t eat for the rest of the day; I don’t want my status to depreciate.

I go running every day. Even if I’m on my honeymoon at a secluded Cabo bungalow that doesn’t have a treadmill, I’ll jog outside the premises until I get lost. Then I will sprint through scary Mexican backstreets with tears streaking off my face.

I don’t drink soda unless I’m at the movies — or a friend’s house and soda is offered. I don’t eat junk food, unless I’m at that same friend’s house and a hot dog falls on the ground and I’m dared to eat it. Then I’ll chase that hot dog with nachos, a milkshake and several deep-fried Twinkies.

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How to Bald Gracefully.

Like two-thirds of men approaching middle age, I’m losing my hair.

This comes as no surprise. My mother’s father was bald. My dad is bald. And when I was 7 a gypsy I’d cut in line at Arby’s placed a curse on me vowing that one day I would lose my luscious hair, and everyone I’d ever loved.

Suffice it to say, I may have had this coming.

I’ve never treated my hair kindly. Like most misguided young men with large chrome ball necklaces and JNCOs, I bleached my hair during the XtReMe 90s. I cut off circulation to it by wearing shirt sleeves as makeshift headbands from 2001-current. And for 20 years I’ve saturated it in so much product that I can still fish out fossilized remnants of LA Looks if I turn upside down and gyrate hard enough.

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18 Things I Didn’t Appreciate About Susan Until She Was Gone.

This week my wife, Susan Morton, left me. I’m devastated and completely alone, until she returns from her Caribbean cruise this Sunday.

Six months ago Susan’s mom secured a fantastic deal on a Manhattan-to-Bermuda cruise. Susan had no choice but to accompany her after my mother-in-law’s original +1, Satan, dropped out a few weeks back.

It’s been a long and lonely birthday week. Thankfully Susan’s been sending daily photos of open water captioned with uplifting messages, such as these two:

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The 5 Stages Of Recovering From A Red Light Camera Ticket.

Yesterday I received my 25th red light camera ticket — a spectacular achievement for any driver.

Now, I don’t want to be THE GUY WHO BLOGS ABOUT DRIVING (there are far superior blogs devoted to that) but here’s the issue: I commute two hours a day. Blogging about driving is a temptation I’ve resisted for months. Especially when considering that I captain this benchmark of automobiling enguiniety.

I won’t go into a longwinded paragraph about my 2013 Chevy Spark — Car and Driver’s “Is It Supposed To Do That?” award winner for three years running — but I would like to examine the mental anguish I experienced after my latest red light citation.

It’s been a traumatic 24 hours, and I’ve been through so many emotions.

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Visiting NYC On A Budget.

New York City is one of the most expensive places in the world. No one can afford to live here; most of the pedestrians you pass on the street are actually paid actors or high-profile celebrities of the banking world. Of course, that doesn’t mean you should avoid visiting The Big Apple. How can you afford a fancy day out in the city? All you need to know are these essential tricks of the trade to get by on the cheap and easy!

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New Year’s Resolutions That Will Drive Your Lover Wild.

Learn a second language

There’s nothing sexier than a foreign tongue in the bedroom. (No, I’m not talking about you, Guillermo!) Whispering a flick of French or a lick of Luxembourgish not only succeeds in revving your lover’s engine, but helps buff up your résumé as well (sexually). Sure, this one is a bit daunting, but here’s a quick tip: If you’re spread too thin with all the sexy resolutions you’re picking up and don’t have the time to learn Spanish, just try watching foreign porn with the captions on. It’s super gross — they don’t have access to the same loofas we do in the states — but your lover will appreciate your newfound worldliness. Wildly so.

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Brother, Can You Spare A Little Christmas?

Right now we’ve only got this little Hanukkah. Which, when you consider the amount of days it’s spread across, is just not enough.

What’d really raise our spirit is the pure high of a little Christmas. And you seem like a nice kid, maybe with some good will toward men you ain’t already using.

So what do you say? For, me and my friend here, we need a little Christmas … right this very minute!

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And On Which Day Of Christmas Is My True Love Going to Clean Up All This Bird Shit?

Don’t get me wrong. On the first day of Christmas I was completely smitten with the pear plant. But things went downhill, real fast.

I live in a cramped studio apartment. You knew that, babe. And at this moment I got seven swans a-swimming in their own liquid feces. Seven skittish swans, riled up from six extremely territorial geese that have compromised the living area with in-your-face a-laying.

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How To Produce Jaw-Dropping Work On Less Sleep.

David, how do I meet deadlines today when I was up all night networking with prospective bros? 

Easily: You work through the fatigue. Because working on little-to-no sleep is absolutely essential in today’s economy.

Listen, the 9-to-5 workday is a relic. As are hour-long lunches, smoke breaks, and any other proponent of the milquetoast working class. Good luck finding a job in the global marketplace if you refuse to work nights, weekends, and the high holidays.

Two important truths before we delve into the juicy REM (Really Earth-shattering Motivational) passages of this post:

  1. There’s always a younger, more vibrant version of you who’s willing to work more hours for less pay. There’s also a version with a less intimidating nose.
  2. The requisite eight hours recommended by most “sleep scientists” is a scam. Just another excuse for you to lay complacently in bed and not achieve your full potential.

Where are the most valuable resources housed in the human body? In the nutrient-rich dark circles under the eyes. There’s a reason they’re called “Bags.” Because they are stuffed with potential!

— Benjamin Franklin, renowned sleep expert; ex-president

What if there were a way to achieve more while working on less sleep? And what if this insomnia-paneled doorway led to a better you?

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Leftovers, And Why They’re Destroying The American Office.

We’re almost halfway through the post-Thanksgiving workweek, aka The Stuffening.

Under the guise of team building, many co-workers use this week to donate their holiday leftovers. These foods will sit in the breakroom wearing playful Post-Its such as: “Turkish Delight, ‘Gobble’ It Up!”

Sounds fun, right?

Wrong. Holiday leftovers are a huge liability, laced with partially hydrogenated vegetable oil and malcontent.

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Heart-To-Hearts, And How to Avoid Them.

The only thing worse than the minimum wage law is the open-door policy so many offices encourage.

Let’s do some free association. What comes to mind when you hear “open door?”

  • Active crime scene
  • Drafts/warm air escaping
  • Mom entering the room carrying a baking sheet asking “Who wants ginger snaps?” then screaming “Oh God, David!”

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Keeping Your Bottom Line Toasty During the Winter Months.

Statistics show offices in the American North are far more profitable than our Confederate counterparts. Why is this? Do northerners possess some inherent quality that makes them superior office workers?

Yes. Northerners have larger brains, and are thusly more capable. Also our water is better. But there’s another factor involved: Weather.

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“Blocking” Writer’s Block.

As is tradition for all recently spawned blogs, this eleventh post addresses writer’s block. Not because I have writer’s block, of course! Hahah, no. No, I’ve got plenty of material for the coming days. Just look at this week’s thrilling lineup:

  • How to maximize your office heating bill.
  • How to wear long-johns under your slacks without raising suspicion.
  • Socks that scream success AND warm the tootsies.
  • Who turned on the central heating? 10 reasons it was probably Kurt.

See? Material for days.

This post is is for all those lesser professionals who can’t arrive a simple topic to blog about. Pick up the slack, William Blogspeares!

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Daylight Savings Time (AKA Employee Excuse Time).

Earlier generations had it made. Pious leadership in the White House, and idle hours filled with reading newspapers, smoking cigars and making love to your gender-appropriate spouse.

Thanks to Obama, there’s no longer such thing as a great weekend.

Now Saturday and Sunday are too fast, too furious to appreciate. There’s visits to the in-laws. Gluten-free trips to the Whole Foods. Mandatory teeth cleanings and unnecessary vaccines.

There’s never enough time for all the crap you need to do in a 21st-century weekend.

Now we’re supposed to go apeshit when Daylight Savings Time (DST) rolls around, because we’re that pathetic. (Make no mistake, an hour adjustment means nothing, but don’t tell that to your sensitive employees.)

The week after DST goes into effect is undoubtedly the most confusing fever dream your employees will experience. You’ll hear excuse after excuse about over-exhaustion and “intimidating sunsets.”

Get ready. Here are the typical reactions you should expect to witness this week, and how to deal with them:

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