Getting married and becoming the father of young children has taught me that I am a narcissist. The good news is that I am a really great, really important, and really special narcissist.
If you’ve never had the chance to visit a Waffle House, simply imagine a gas station bathroom that serves waffles.
If you ever mention something fun that you are going to do with your young children, and there is any time that will elapse between the very moment you bring it up and when you are actually doing the fun thing, you will be batraged with questions during that entire time period. If you tell them that you might go to Disney at some point in the coming year, you have opened a Pandora’s box.
I would trade money, sleep, or hair for a smile from one of my children in a heartbeat. Well, it depends on how much hair. There.
When I was single, I was convinced my friends who took the plunge and had their first baby were victims of an alien abduction, because they would disappear from the planet and reappear a year later as unrecognizable strangers.
The only thing weaker than a toddler’s handshake is their immune system.
Each city in the southeastern part of the United States has its own unique type of specialty food that can be only found in that city, and it all happens to be called ‘barbecue’.
Now that I am a father myself, I know that powerlessness is the defining characteristic of fatherhood. This begins with the pregnancy. Men spend their whole lives being active. We evolved as hunters. “Me get job, me get girl, me get girl pregnant. Now me shut mouth and wait for girl to tell me what to do.” As expectant fathers, we become silent spectators. Passive participants in a series of external events over which we have zero control.
I like it when my five-year-old asks me if a woman in a burka on the subway is a ninja.
When Marre was two, I was in line at a crowded New York City grocery store, and I gave her a sippy cup of juice in a futile attempt to stop a meltdown. She bellowed at the top of her lungs, “I don’t like jews!” Thank God, we live in New York City and my family looks like Hitler’s fantasy. Otherwise, that would’ve been pretty awkward. Jeannie.
If steak is the tuxedo of meat, and bacon is the candy of meat, then a good cheeseburger is the mother’s hug of meat.
Organic is probably the biggest scam of the century. For those of you unfamiliar with it, organic is a grocery term for “more expensive.
I’m happily married, but supposedly the grocery store is a great place for singles to meet. I’m not sure how this works. “I see you got the Charmin there in your cart. It really is more absorbent. Wanna grab a cup of coffee?
Overweight people have chosen food over appearance. When a fat person talks about a great place to get a burger, I lean in. They know.
I can’t stop eating. I can’t. I haven’t been hungry in twelve years.
Instead of food giving me energy, I am always tired after I eat, which explains why I am always tired. I go to the gym just so I will stop eating for an hour, which, I believe, is the American form of fasting.
It’s McDonald’s of the soul: momentary pleasure followed by incredible guilt, eventually leading to cancer.
I mostly eat ice cream at night in sweatpants, the uniform of ice cream eating. I’ll toss the lid even before I start eating the pint, because I’m not a quitter.
I imagine Saltines will have a comeback. If there are gourmet doughnuts, there might as well be gourmet Saltines. “These are Himalayan Salt Artisanal Saltines and cost ten dollars a cracker.
Well, since you’ve come into my life, you’ve been a constant source of entertainment while simultaneously driving me insane.
There is cheese from just about every country in the world except China. No cheese from China? Maybe tofu is Chinese cheese. No wonder there was a cultural revolution.