This page contains columns of varying lengths, subjects and - to be honest - talent levels that I've written over the last couple years. It took me awhile to discover that proverbial "voice." And in many ways, I'm still in the discovery process. Some of these were written to be funny, while others were actually about very serious topics. In all my writing though, I provide commentary about the world around us based on the events in my life and hopefully through it all, touch on those universal experiences that we all share.

PICK A WEIRD AL TITLE:
I lived in denial for several days as I checked every medical website out there.  But every page that began with the word “HERNIA” ended with the word “SURGERY.”  Even the most crunchy natural remedy sites I checked out said, “Each some granola and tree moss then go see a surgeon you jackass!” So with much trepidation I scheduled a consult with a man who, for all his years of experience, was far rougher with my testicles than anybody else I’ve ever paid that much. 

GENERATION vorteX:
I’m starting to think this part of Pennsylvania might actually be a vortex in the space-time continuum.  Or at the very least, it’s some kind of temporal black hole that prevents people in their twenties from entering.  Perhaps it wasn’t just perception back in Boston.  Maybe the whole world really was in college.  Perhaps my age group radically expanded in the late nineties as some kind of generational supernova that ultimately collapsed in on itself.  Perhaps Lauren and I are the proton nucleus of an age-gap nebula with negatively charged thirteen and forty-year-olds swirling all around us.

SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF:
Five years ago I thought baby powder was something you only used on, you know… babies.  These days I have to walk around like Pigpen’s twin brother just to absorb enough moisture to prevent yellow belly button stains from forming on my shirt. 

FURY ON THE GREEN:
I’ve written about this country’s golf epidemic before.  At the time, I was more of a golfing pacifist.  While I disagreed with the lifestyle, I was content to just live and let putt.  You know what they say: “Hate the golf.  Love the golfer.”  Plus I’m a person who wears my heart and opinions way out there on the cufflink anyway, so my friends understood never to use the words “Eighteen Holes” in my presence unless they were describing a gunshot victim. 

MY UNSOLICITED PARENTAL ADVICE:
PART III - PICTURES WORTH A THOUSAND COMPLAINTS
If I were seeking out a picture for the page that says, “cookie”, I would look for the quintessential cookie.  And to me, to any rational person, that can only mean chocolate chip.  Instead, some Queer Eye Martha Stewart lemming over at the book company picked some frou-frou Fancy Lad cookie with jelly in the middle.  To me, it looks like a cherry pie with no crust, but the moniker on the page definitely says, “cookie.”

MY UNSOLICITED PARENTAL ADVICE:
PART II - LITTLE BOOKS THAT CAN'T
Growing up, I had such fond memories of The Little Engine that Could.  But I never noticed just how badly it was written until I started reading it to my own daughter.  First of all, in a thirty-five-page book, the title character isn’t even introduced until page twenty-six.  Bad start.  After that, his only conflict is this little hill.  There’s no struggle, no character arc, and no moment of crisis where it seems like the good little boys and girls on the other side of the mountain might not get their toys.  The train says, “I think I can” a couple times, and then he’s done. Talk about your premature withdrawl.

MY UNSOLICITED PARENTAL ADVICE:
PART I - THE SAFETY DANCE
We’ve recognized that the only good advice is the kind that’s actually solicited, so we’ve done our best not to proselytize our views unless asked – or provoked.  It’s tough because, like I said, we’re experts now too and we also feel compelled to tell everybody just how badly they’re screwing their kids up. But we’d like to hang onto at least a few of our friends, so we’re only giving advice to two groups of people: the toy makers and the book publishers.

AMERICAN CARBS: YEAR IN REVIEW:
Now, Clay Aiken.  I hated this kid from the beginning.  For starters, he looks just like I did in high school and it reminds me of what a pansy I used to be.  But I’ve never approved of American Idol.  I forget how many times I’ve shouted, “Just because someone can sing doesn’t make them a rock star!!!”  And don’t even get me started on that infuriating little guy who somebody should have She-Banged on the head a long time ago.

WHAT'S IN A NAME THAT I PICKED OUT:
Not only were Lauren and I allowed to keep the baby girl we gave birth to seven months ago, but the United States government also gave us permission, in fact encouraged us, to give her a name. Nobody questioned us.  Nobody sent a letter saying we had utilized more than the permitted number of letters according to Pennsylvania Code THX: 11-38.  Nobody called to inform us that if we failed to fill out form FU-90 within thirty days, our daughter’s name would be automatically changed to Eunice.

THE PLIGHT OF A DOTING FATHER:
In the nine months leading up to Allison’s birth, I was scared to death that we’d have an ugly baby.  Oh don’t act so appalled. You prayed the same prayer I did before your kids were born.  I can’t help it if God tuned you out.  Fortunately my prayers were answered.  Now if I could only figure out the proper etiquette for responding to people who gush over this beautiful kid of mine?

REMEMBER, FORREST GUMP WAS JUST A MOVIE:
I know the marathon runners and 5K junkies are lacing up their spikes to kick me in my sedentary backside.  But let’s be honest, do you people seriously like jogging – in and of itself?  If you didn’t get anything out of it like gold medals, cardiovascular health or “personal pride,” would you still do it?    The next time you run a race, do me a favor and carry a little mirror with you.  Is that the face of somebody who’s enjoying themself? 

DUDE WHERE'S MY COUNTRY CLUB:
I have seen what golf can do to a man (and select lesbian women).  Guys I used to have fun with – partying, barhopping, stealing road signs – now won’t leave the house because “The Masters is on.”  Oh I’ll admit, I experimented in college like anybody else.  Friends would invite me to go hit a bucket of balls on the weekend.  I just said no for a while, but eventually the peer pressure got to me.

THEY KILL SPIDERS DON'T THEY:
Now I know the movie was based on a book so I can’t really blame the filmmakers.  But then again, in E.B. White’s version you didn’t actually see Charlotte die.  It was just kind of understood.  But in the cartoon she sings the saddest most nostalgic song ever, and then on the last note, exhales her terminal breath and wilts. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, all of Charlotte’s children run away!

DADDY'S LITTLE PLAN:
As I rocked back and forth to the music, smiling down at my daughter sleeping peacefully in my arms, I couldn’t help but think, “Does every father-daughter dance have to be to this stupid Celine Dion song?”  I didn’t know if Carla picked this schmaltzy stand-by because she couldn’t think of anything better, or if (even more horrifying) Celine Dion actually reminded her of how much she loved her dad?

GET HIGH WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS:
I like Friends as much as the next guy, but now every evening we watch those DVD’s during dinner.  Every night, we fall asleep to the sounds of Friends in the bedroom.  Lauren has gotten so used to that comforting white noise that she simply cannot fall asleep without it anymore.  I’ve begged and I’ve pleaded, “Please, tonight can we just listen to music or something?”     

JERSEY PLATES AND BATHROOM BREAKS:
The trip was humbling and invigorating and through it all we learned two very important lessons: #1: Being from New Jersey can be a curse and a blessing. #2: There just aren’t enough bathrooms on America’s million miles of highway to satisfy a pregnant woman.

HOLD THE POLITENESS:
I’ve always been laid back when it comes to dining with friends and family.  I don’t fuss over which restaurant we go to.  I don’t send my meal back if it’s cold or disgusting or not what I ordered.  And if a friend wants to make some weird vegan dish, I eat it politely and take the indigestion like a man. 

MAKE LOVE, NOT SARCASTIC REMARKS:
Is it possible for two people to vote Republican and still be crunchy granola hippie freaks?  That’s what people are calling me and Lauren seven months into this pregnancy.  They keep expecting us to trade in our khakis for tie-dyed shirts, pick up a bong and a start singing “Blowin’ in the Wind.” 

HOT LUNCH UPRISING:
The cooks in our elementary school didn’t take well to criticism. They yelled and made us spend recess inside with our heads down whenever we complained about the burnt pizza, hairs in our yogurt or rubbery meat in our spaghetti sauce.

TOILET HUMOR:
I grew up in a house where the only doors with locks were the main entrances. The bedrooms didn't lock. Neither did the bathroom. In fact, the bathroom door didn't even shut tight. All it took was a cat's paw to push the thing open. But in spite of these perils weighing in against me, not one person in over twenty-two years of potty training has caught me making pee pees or poo poos.

IT'S THE MOST OVERSUNG TIME OF THE YEAR:
I don't know how it is anywhere else, but here in Philadelphia, they started playing Christmas music two weeks ago! It's not even Thanksgiving and they've already been caroling for two weeks! It was seventy degrees here last week, we broke all sorts of heat records, and they were playing "Walking in a Winter Wonderland"!

THE MAC DADDY - TOO COOL TO CARE:
I know I'm going to be a great dad. I'm no child psychologist or family wellness professional, but I have discovered the key to being a good parent. It's quite simple actually. All you have to do is realize that, like it or not, you are not cool. And don't try playing the whole, "I used to be cool," thing. As soon as you become a parent, you just have to accept the fact that you are not now, nor have you ever been, cool.

LESBIAN AFFAIR NOT CONSIDERED ADULTERY:
Bi-curious housewives all over this nation breathed a sigh of relief last week. They have just been given the freedom to explore their blossoming sexuality in a guilt-free, consequence-free environment. No, this isn't the plot to some late-night Cinemax flick. On November 7, in a move that Bill Clinton could be proud of, the New Hampshire Supreme Court voted 3-2 that when a woman cheats on her husband with another woman, it is not considered adultery.

ONE TRIMESTER AT A TIME:
People keep asking me how it feels to know I'm going to be a dad. To tell you the truth, it's just hitting me, four months after my first anniversary, that I'm married. So you're going to have to give me some time on the baby thing. Maybe after my kid breaks his first window and I give him his first good beating, I'll be ready to comment. Just kidding. I'll be beating my kid way before he's old enough to break windows.

SIGNED, SEALED, INFLATED - GO FISH!:
Those tree-huggers at the EPA were trying to make us feel guilty about all things rubber and plastic. They told us fish were mistaking grocery bags, six-pack fasteners and pen pal balloons for bait and trying to swallow them whole. They (the EPA, not the fish) apparently had never stopped to consider the theory of Natural Selection which states that, "Any animal who selects its food before verifying that it is in fact natural, does not deserve to live in the first place."

DO NOT CALL REGISTRY - MY FOOLISH MISTAKE:
The added silence hasn't filled my life with the extra minutes of happiness they promised. With nobody calling, I am still paying the same old ten cents per minute on all my long-distance calls. With nobody calling, I haven't received any free gifts with trial memberships that I cancel after a month anyway. And with nobody calling, I have had no outlet (or catharsis) for the insufferable jackass in me.

ODE TO MY GEO:
When I finally moved from L.A. to New Jersey, I managed to transport everything I owned in that Geo - with enough room left over to stretch out in my sleeping bag each night. (Hey, I was broke and unemployed. I couldn't afford the Motel 6.) Most people think that sounds pretty pathetic. I prefer to think of it as something Jack Kerouac would do.

AFTER THE FOILIAGE:
Fall is here once again. Time for the brisk autumn air to move in and turn all the leaves a vibrant shade of orange before they fall to the ground. After which will begin yet another round of the ultimate suckers game for kids: raking leaves.

WHAT A LOVELY WAY OF SAYING HOW MUCH YOU LOVE BOUNTY:
Now, I always thought that saying, "My water just broke," was tantamount to, "Sweetheart, unless you want the back seat of your car ruined, you will take me to the hospital right now!" As it turned out Lisa had another nine hours to watch the clock and write down the timing of each and every contraction.

SURVIVING REALITY:
American Idol was always on right before 24 on Tuesdays, and I'd be subjected to the final two minutes after switching over from Buffy. Every week I'd have to stomach one-hundred and twenty seconds of Adobe and Pastrami singing their asses off, trying to sound like Luther Vandross - even if they were singing an AC/DC song.

AMY LOFTUS: TRUTH & PASSION IN MUSIC:  
It's a rare thing in Los Angeles for a singer/songwriter to be on stage and have a bar full of people actually shut up and listen. But when that singer was Amy Loftus, the showbiz conversations stopped and jaded Hollywood eyes became transfixed on her.

THE ALTERNATIVE TO CLASSROOM VIOLENCE:
There were plenty of teachers at my high school I wished somebody would shoot, but nobody ever did! It didn't seem like such an impossible dream considering the fact that everybody in my town owned a gun. Of course, this was rural Maine and most of those guns were hunting rifles - which I suppose were harder to conceal under a varsity jacket.

DOG HOLIDAYS OF SUMMER:
Forgive me for being insensitive, but am I the only one wondering exactly how twenty thousand people just up and died from being too hot? I don't care if they didn't have air conditioning. Open a freakin' window for crying out loud!

DEWEY DECIMAL SURFING:
I haven't done library research since high school. And even then, a pubescent boy's idea of research is pulling out the "B" volume from the medical texts and ogling the pictures of naked ladies with your friends.

CELEBRATE DIVERSITY!  KEEP THEM SEPARATE!:
I know I certainly could have used a separate high school for kids such as myself. I got beaten down and called fag too many times to remember. What I really needed back then was a school for skinny girly boys who listened to classical music and everybody just assumed was gay. I know there must be plenty of other boys in that same boat right now. So right off the bat, we can make a school for them and call it the Niles Crane School.

BEE PREPARED:
You know that scene at the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark when Indiana Jones realizes he has spiders all over his back, so he calmly brushes them off with his whip? Yeah, I don't do that. The nanosecond the nerves in my back register anything smaller than a chair, my whole body contorts into a corkscrew, my hands raining down blows like napalm on the compromised area.

MONKEY BUSINESS IN JOURNALISM:
In any given report on this most recent of diseases, the reporters and anchors must say the word "monkey" at least six times. Yet their faces remain straight and serious and somber as though they were discussing the stock market or a serial killer. It seems incredibly unnatural. The very design of the word alone, with that ending "ee" sound practically forces the mouth into a smile.

IN SUPPORT OF "AMERICAN" CHICKS:
For a guy, listening to the Dixie Chicks is like wearing a pink shirt. You have to be pretty darn comfortable in your own sexuality. But, I never cared what anybody thought. I was ready to marry all three of them from the moment I heard lead singer Natalie Maines belt out Tonight the Heartache's On Me in that whisky-and-velvet voice of hers.

AGGOTS AND EIGHTSIES:
The snow banks wouldn't even be completely melted before the kids in my elementary school started bringing sacks full (or socks full) of those alluring little glass balls and engaging in their very first form of legalized gambling. The basic rules were simple. Two players, one marble each. Whoever hit their opponent's marble with their own won both marbles. The loser drank himself under the table.

THE TRIALS OF A WANNABE DEADHEAD:
I was seventeen the day my girlfriend and her sister said they wanted to get drunk and mourn the death of Jerry Garcia. To which I replied, "The baseball player?" The "Dead" was a band that I'd heard about, yet never actually associated with any particular music. I'd always just assumed that that red and blue skull was some kind of satanic symbol.

NINE LIVES TOO MANY:
These cats are Lauren's babies. She cuddles them. She kisses them. She sings pop songs to them, changing the lyrics to be about them. "He was a Kitty Boi. He said 'Mew-y mew-y Boi.' He wasn't good enough for Meow."

A SILLY FRENCH CONSPIRACY:
The escalating conflict with Iraq has been perpetrated, not by the United States, but by France so as to take the spotlight off of itself as the silliest country on the face of the earth.

RACING WITH THE KING:
Rush hour was over, but traffic was still moving like autistic children - slow and spastic. I'd been having a bad day and I wanted nothing more than to just finish what I was doing and get home. I was punching the steering wheel, cursing like a sailor and empathizing with shotgun toting road-ragers. And then Elvis Presley came to my rescue.

WHAT TO EXPECT WHEN I'M EXPECTED TO BE EXPECTING:
Lauren and I are lucky enough to not have families who view a wedding as the grand opening of a brood factory. Nobody has asked, "So when are you two going to make us (insert familial relation here)?" In fact, our parents have the same logic as ours (well, my logic more so than Lauren's) which says wait until Lauren is done with grad school before we go fertilizing any eggs.

HOPPING TO A THEATER NEAR YOU:
When executed properly, movie hopping often saved us as much as fifteen dollars. That translated into like ten thousand packets of Ramen noodles.

READING GROUPS: DEFINING THE MASSES:
Do they still assign reading groups in school? Personally, I think they were an invaluable part of the learning process. It allowed us to quickly and easily identify all of the "slow people" so that we wouldn't cheat off them during geography tests.

FRACTALS AND TRAFFIC JAMS:
I really wish I had gone to M.I.T. to get a degree in Math and Science. Good thing their motto is, "It's never too late." Or is that the High School Equivalency? Don't get me wrong, I despised math as much as the next person. To this day, nobody has been able to adequately explain a single practical application for the quadratic formula. (Although, to be fair, the same can be said for explaining my film degree to my parents.)

THE INFINITY ARGUMENT:
Seven years ago, Johnny Cochran convinced a jury that O.J. Simpson was innocent by using the catchy argument, "If it does not fit, you must acquit." I'll bet he could have convinced the rest of the American public - and probably a few of the prosecutors - if he had just suffixed that statement with "Infinity!"

DECKING THE HALLS - ONE DISCORD AT A TIME:
I have never actually decked any of my halls with bows of holly. Though, one year I did Fun-Tak® the closet door with a poster of Cindy Crawford in a Santa hat. Fa la la la la, la la la la.

SNOW DAYS ARE HERE:
Excuse me, but where are all these people's shovels from last year? Did every single shovel collectively break in half on March twenty-first? Are people scared that their trendy friends will catch them with last year's model shovel? And while we're at it, just what kind of word is "shovel" anyway? Shovel. SHUH-vul. Shovel?

THE MASKS I'VE WORN:
If only those fascist daycare people could have just minded their own business. But no. They just had to point out that, "Dracula does not say, 'Roar!'" "Well, what does he say?" I asked. The best they could come up with was, "I vant to suck your bloooood." I tried it out, but compared to "Roar!" it was just plain sad.

AN ELEPHANT NEVER PAINTS:
I really think I could die happy if only I could be there at the exact moment when the man who paid a million dollars for the elephant's painting gets buyers remorse. "I paid how much for WHAT?"

SO I MARRIED A MIDWIFE:
Through Lauren, I’ve learned about pretty much every horrible thing that can happen to a person. I was surprised at just how many orifices one can bleed from. And I knew I was gushing from every single one of them. Acute pain was the worst. I felt every poke, prod and incision that Lauren described – usually in my back or stomach.

MY THOUGHTS ONE YEAR LATER:
"The World Trade Center just fell over." Those words will haunt me until the day I die. He could have been saying, "I think I just ran over a speed bump," for all the expression in his voice.

THE ATARI GENERATION TAKES OVER:
I can't help but laugh whenever I see a teenager wearing an Atari T-shirt. Do they even know what Atari was? I've heard at least one person born after 1984 say, "Atari games were so much better than the games they put out today." I don't know if they're just trying to be retro-chic or what, but take it from me Scooter, Atari sucked.

THE CLOSEST I'VE COME TO COLD FEET:
I proposed to Lauren just under a year ago, and the wedding plans have been an all-consuming part of our lives ever since. Lauren has entrusted as little of the planning process to me as possible. Which is probably a good thing considering my wedding mentality has been along the lines of, "Flowers? We need flowers?"

I THINK I WALK LIKE A DORK:
The first time I saw Grease, the summer after third grade, I tried to change my walk to be like Danny Zuko's. He just had this… swagger, with lots of up-and-down arm motion, as though all the bones from his heel to his shoulder were fused together. So, I practiced. Yes, I actually practiced walking.

IN-N-OUT: THE BEST THE WEST HAS TO OFFER:
Most Americans have probably never heard of the wonderfulness that is In-N-Out Burger. Unless, of course, they happened to catch the reference in The Big Lebowski ("Boy those are some good burgers." "Shut the f--- up Donny.").

LAUGHING IN THE FACE OF INJURY:
What was it about the pain inflicted on our friends that was so funny? Everyone can understand, if not condone, taking pleasure in the suffering of one's enemies. But to gain such amusement in the harm of a close friend, so much so that we would go out of our way to cause it?

PITY ON THE COURT:
For those of you who a) never played sports or b) went All-State, pity time is given during the final minute of a game when your team is either way ahead or way behind. The coach figures that no matter how incompetent you are, there is no way your presence on the court could possibly affect the outcome of the game.

NOTHING "CORRECT" ABOUT SUICIDE BOMBERS:
For the most part, the descriptive words used on the news are fairly neutral and academic these days. That's why I can't help but shake my head, laughing whenever a story comes on about a suicide bomber.

WHEN AUTHORITY COMPROMISES FAITH:
It seems that most Catholics tend to wear their religion like a badge, an albatross and a pair of clown shoes. They take pride in it while joking about the very doctrines they feel burdened by. A great deal of time is spent looking for the loopholes in canon law, so as to ease the guilt from any number of sins.

GAMESHOW MENTALITIES:
You know that feeling you get during Wheel of Fortune when the first two letters of a three-letter word are "TH" and the guy with his name on his shirt drops a couple hundred bucks to buy an "E"? I start yelling obscenities and wishing the TV sound went both ways.

THE DRINKING HABITS OF BEER SNOBS:
A beer snob is merely some guy who has veered briefly away from the warm frat party beer he's used to, and somehow comes back feeling more enlightened than his caveman friends.

KID FEARS: THE TWO TOWERS:
I have never understood why people say that children are fearless. I was scared of everything as a kid. The dark, loud noises, strange dogs, getting lost, zombies, fires, electricity, water in my face. Face it, when you're that small, the world is full of things that can seriously kill you.

WHOKNOWSMEBEST.COM - PUTTING FRIENDS TO THE TEST:
I received my first test early one Friday morning from my good friend Jason. Or at least, I thought we were good friends. I scored a pathetic 30% on his test. That's okay though. He only scored 20% on mine.

THE WAITING YEARS:
I can honestly say I never spit in anybody's food. There were far more subtle - and less punishable - ways of getting back at a customer. Handling money, scratching my head, holding a piece of raw meat then reaching for their collard greens without washing my hands was always a guilty pleasure.

YOU CAN'T GET THERE FROM HERE:
Growing up in rural Maine, I always took subtle pleasure in giving directions to city folk. It was priceless watching their eyes glaze over when you told them to "turn right at the fire station, then drive about two miles and turn left at the old brown house with the satellite dish out front hooking an immediate left just before the giant weeping willow."

AT THE WAILING WALL OF PENN STATION:
After September 11th, the first things placed on the wall of Penn Station were Missing Posters. Faces of men and women, young and old, tacked up by friends and relatives in the vain hope that maybe, maybe their loved ones had escaped the destruction.

DECONSTRUCTING SANTA CLAUS:
I was always very selective about what I chose to believe regarding the mythology surrounding Santa Claus. I never believed that the Santas in the malls and at the school Christmas parties or even the Santa at Santa's Village in New Hampshire were the real Santa. Who were they kidding? Even a 3-year-old can spot a lousy fake beard.

400 MILES TO FREDERICKSBURG:
On my most recent trip across the country, I decided to swing through Fredericksburg once again for a hearty helping of the best barbecue in the speaking world. The thing was, I was trying to make it coast to coast in four days and Fredericksburg wasn't exactly on the way.

FORGETTING THE GOOD TIMES:
L.A. was the first home I never felt like I had to leave. I left Maine for Boston because I had to go to college. I left Boston for L.A. because that's where I had to go for my career. But leaving L.A. just over a year ago was a deliberate decision on my part, completely unforced by anything else I felt I had to do - which of course made it all the more frightening.

MY DAYS OF CHILDHOOD VIOLENCE:
In second grade, we had to draw a picture and write a paragraph describing what we wanted to be when we grew up. There were your standards: teachers, farmers, game-wardens (hey it was rural Maine). I freaked my teacher out because I was the only kid in class who wanted to be a "Spy."

REMEMBER ME? YOU WERE MY FRIEND:
I stared at my sister's instant message. "Did you hear Jen Greely died in a car accident?" I tried to think how to respond, but a feeble "Holy shit" was all that came to me. Jen Greely passed in and out of my thoughts for the rest of the day with feelings of... Well, I wasn't sad, nor was I numb with shock.

WHY I HAVEN'T VISITED GROUND ZERO:
Friends ask if I have gone down to look at the wreckage. I surprise them when I say, "No." I'm the kind of person who would have walked down to the World Trade Center that morning just to say I saw the towers fall. Instead, I watched the replay on CNN. I have yet to take one picture, much less go to ground zero for a close-up.

WHEN "NIGGERS" WERE JERKS AND "FAGGOTS" WERE SISSIES:
I was six years old the first time I heard the word "nigger." Robert Poindexter was the foul-mouthed third grader who uttered the expletive. . As near as I could tell, "nigger" was just a harsher version of "jerk." I felt completely justified in firing the word at Richard for being one.

THE DAY THE TOWERS FELL:
I work over a mile away from where the World Trade Center once stood. I didn't know anybody who worked in the buildings. This is probably the reason why, for the entire day last Tuesday, I simply felt detached from the whole situation.

FINDING "THE ONE" (A FOUR-PART SERIES):
I don't know how it worked for anybody else, but for me, the search for "The One" started in Kindergarten when I passed Leslie Clifford a note which simply read: "Will you marry me? Yes/No." Unfortunately, she went for option 3 and tore the note into tiny pieces.

AMY LOFTUS: SINGING LIFE HER WAY:
If comparisons have to be made, let's say Tori Amos, Stevie Nicks and Jewel - but with ten times the passion of any of them. Her songs are a little bit folky, a little bit bluesy, a little bit rock-n-roll, and a whole lot soulful. In writing and in delivery, Amy feels what she sings and makes you feel too.

PLACENTA CORDON BLEU:
And we’re done with the yogurt," says Chandler Bing upon learning that in some cultures, women actually eat their placenta. No doubt the very idea conjures up images of fava beans and a nice Chianti. "FFTT-FFTT-FFTT-FFTT." In this day and age, the placenta is nothing more than that charming little afterthought they never show you in the health class video. Surely, it was only eaten by primitive people with bones in their noses, whose taste buds had been ritualistically removed in honor of the sun god Shazam. That’s what I thought until the day my friend Denise told me that she too had partaken of her own baby’s placenta.

MY DAYS AS A SMOKER:
The first time I ever tried to smoke, I was eight, and it was with a paper-towel. Of course, nothing happened. All I inhaled was a mouthful of wet paper. The lit end proceeded to disintegrate into pieces, which flew into the air like little flaming moths.

THOUGH GIANTS MAY FALL:
Through the years, people kept trying to define Wyatt as one thing or another, but he consistently proved that he could not be contained by any one label. He was both a rebel and a scholar, a punk and a tenderfoot. Now I have just learned that in doing things his own way and continuing with the tradition of his life, Wyatt has died in Africa.

IN LOVE AND TAG:
There were two basic versions of the game. The first was regular "It Tag," where one person was designated to be It. When It tagged somebody, that person became It until they tagged somebody else, and so on. The second variation of the game was "Freeze Tag."

BULLIES, ZOMBIES AND TANG: MY FALL FROM INNOCENCE:
I tend to think of the fall as that point when childhood ideals are replaced by the reality of the world; when you realize that there is, in fact a world full of danger that you will eventually have to meet face-to-face. My fall from innocence happened at the age of 5 because of three things: bullies, zombies and Tang.

BACKING THUNDER: THE DAVE MATTHEWS BAND:
Some bands pay thousand of dollars for pyrotechnics and weird lighting effects. But for no money at all, the Dave Matthews Band was able to apparently harness the power of God into the greatest special effects choreography I think I shall ever experience.

DRIVE ME CRAZY:
My blinker is blinking, no question about what my intentions are. I inch closer and closer to the dotted line making my desires blatantly obvious to those who didn't get the subtlety of my signal. But still, nobody finds it in their heart to make an opening big enough for my little Geo Metro.

ONE NIGHT AT HARRY O'S:
What had started as a mental warning was now turning into a plan. "What if you perpetuate this illusion?" I asked myself. "This is L.A. Nobody's going to look down on you. In fact, it might be inversely effective. If you pretend you're gay, maybe chicks will be drawn to that." This was the ultimate "act like you don't want it" routine.