All debate over whether or not there was any merit in writing this article ended for me when I still laughed-out-loud after the tenth time of running the premise through my head. Let’s face it: everybody poops. Some people even do it soft-serve-style into cups (NSFW, but oh so tempting to omit

If I hear a woman talk about chivalry being dead one more time, I’m going to take her to dinner and not pay for it. Then I’m going to make a pee-puddle and put her cardigan over it so I don’t get my heels wet. OKCupid has provided me with

I can’t tell if I’m waking up or just going to sleep. My drunken stupor has muffled my senses, each coming in and out of focus in a kaleidoscope of sound and touch. I slowly begin to ascend the tiers of sobriety, and as I do, my senses return. There

Before I even had much sense of what oral sex was (“it’s when you say naughty things into someone else’s ear,” my fellow 6th grader assured me), I knew that going down on a girl was something very unpleasant, something that smelled like fish (turns out Chicken of the Sea is

I drink a lot. Probably too much, but I don’t know where you draw the line when it comes to putting poison in your body, so I’ll just assume it’s in chalk somewhere around your dead body. Coming from a family with a history of addiction, I’m keenly aware of

I hate Valentine’s Day. Sure, I’m a hopeless romantic who usually spends every February 14th alone doing Jell-O shots in my chaise while eating bacon-fried bacon and masturbating to re-runs of Breaking Bad, but I retain the comfort of knowing Internet Girlfriend will never leave nor punch me in the face. The real reason

People frequently mistake me for being gay. Certainly much more than they mistake me for being a comedian. But despite the fact that I studied theater in college while working at the Gap, living in the co-ops and sucking dick on the side for money, I am neither gay nor bisexual.