I suck at golf. Seriously. On my best days, I approached – but never broke – the score of 100. I once birdied a short par-4 at a crabgrass course in Maryland, but since I was alone, my only proof was a depressing photo of a dirty Titleist sitting at the bottom of a cup. …
There are fewer adolescent rites of passage more iconic than the house party. Generations of teens feel a compulsion to celebrate their newfound rebellion with these block-shaking ragers, perhaps in the hopes their names can be immortalized in the hallowed halls of suburban lore. Like most my age, I watched the “parents are gone, let’s …
You’re miserable, and I’m useless It’s 10:30 on a Friday night. My t-shirt and jeans stick to my body, damp from a combination of rain and other people’s sweat. My ears are ringing, my feet hurt, and a guy with forearm tattoo of a t-rex wrapped in a taco keeps pushing into me on purpose. …
There were few things I envied more when I was a kid than families who owned a trampoline. Having a trampoline was a status symbol, the Birkin bag of the playground. There was nothing more exotic than going to a friend’s house and jumping on one, giggling and shrieking with joy for hours, forgetting for …
I impaled my right thumb with a power drill last week while screwing together a pair of 2x4s to make a firewood cradle. The bit slipped out of the screw head and entered my thumb, breaking the nail in half. It was one of those injuries that look way scarier than they actually are; seeing …
I Don't Belong Here. 