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A darkly hilarious confession from a dad who realized he’s technically a reproductive war criminal. Because when you create life, you also annihilate a billion others—and nobody gives you a ribbon for that.

I spent $3,000 on a productivity coach who told me to wake up at 5 a.m., chant about abundance, and walk barefoot in a parking lot. Spoiler: it didn’t fix my life. If you’re tempted to pay someone to shame you into hustle culture, read this first.

This baby-led weaning quesadilla is the first meal my baby didn’t instantly throw at the dog. Get the easy recipe, safety tips, and a few laughs along the way.

Working from home was supposed to feel liberating. Instead, I’m a bathrobe-clad hostage in my own kitchen, spying on suburban affairs and losing my grip on reality—one Zoom call at a time.

My baby wasn’t eating. He was losing weight, throwing food on the floor, and giving me death stares. Then we made this sweet potato apple chicken mash. Everything changed.

After building a YouTube channel to 3 million views, I realized I was spending more time perfecting videos than living my life. This is the brutally honest (and mildly funny) story of why I quit trying to be a full-time content creator—and what I got back when I finally let go.

Some content flops. Some takes off. And sometimes, your video hits half a million views while you’re pantsless and tipsy. Here’s what I learned about going viral by mistake.

If your company thinks a ropes course will fix broken trust, congratulations — you’re in a workplace cult. Here’s my firsthand guide to toxic team building activities, and why the only thing they’ve built is my will to quit.

My first job after film school ended with a toxic performance review that blamed my “listening skills.” Twenty-five years later, I’ve realized it wasn’t about performance—it was about power. Here’s how to turn that kind of feedback into content (and revenge).

Yes, I became the unofficial HR rep at my toxic job. No, I wasn’t qualified. And yes, I still got blamed for Gary crying in the breakroom. Welcome to the hellscape of toxic workplace HR expectations, where the only thing more exhausting than your job is pretending you’re not already doing five others.

If the rent seems too good to be true, it probably includes a complimentary snake or a barking German Shepherd.

I pay $2,600/month to live next to an emotional support Rottweiler and a neighbor who vapes like it’s cardio. Here’s what the Norfolk VA rental market actually feels like—overpriced, absurd, and padded with more fees than a college tuition bill.

Yes, I once drove a car without A/C in 90-degree heat just to save $400. And yes, I asked a woman to split the bill on our first date. These are my regrets—also known as “extreme frugality stories.”

I’ve learned more about adulthood from Star Trek: The Next Generation than from any therapist. This article is what happens when midlife meets warp drive—with life lessons, Picard flashbacks, and a graveyard full of hairline regrets.

I’m level 277 in Gods Unchained the card game, which means I’ve basically earned a PhD in pixelated vengeance. It’s the most fun I’ve had destroying people legally.

I was thirty, filming the Secretary of Defense in Arlington Cemetery, when he wandered off mid-shoot and saluted the wrong funeral. I ended up sprinting over headstones trying to catch him—and somewhere between panic and gravitas, I had a life changing moment.

I accidentally joined a gay pride parade while trying to cross the street. What followed was glitter, confusion, unsolicited hugs, and a brief but intense crisis about whether straight pride should be a thing (it shouldn’t).

I went to a Wafle House at 4 a.m. and watched a kitchen worker celebrate a new pot like it was a promotion. Her manager forced a smile so tight I thought he’d rupture something. This is what early morning kitchen jobs do to people.

Apparently, investing in your 40s is just pretending you’re responsible while secretly spiraling. I did it for 24 years, and now I’m a millionaire—go figure.

We’ve all made questionable choices at the grocery store—but some weird grocery store purchases cross into full-blown psychological thriller territory. This is one man’s descent into checkout shame, featuring bananas, Vaseline, and a grocery clerk who silently judged it all.