Hmm… 10pm… time for my midnight snack. What to eat? Cold chicken? Leftover spaghetti? A quick index finger through the peanut butter? “Blueberries.” “Or better yet… just a glass of water. You’re on a diet… at least, you were on a diet.” This had better be a dream because my mother’s voice seems to be …

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As we finished the last chorus of “Dayenu,” my wife leaned in, whispering ever so sweetly in my ear. “Check the salmon. I’m ready to serve the soup.” We had decided to grill salmon for this first night of Passover. First, it was healthier than brisket. Second, the motley group sitting at our dining room …

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As I cleaned up from another teenage get-together, I scanned the room. Half-filled water bottles, crumpled napkins, smudges and sprinkles on everything, and everywhere. What’s a dad to do on a Friday night in the frosty suburbs? On a perpetual diet of greens and protein shakes, I avoided the temptation of dragging my finger across …

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“We’re hungry. Do we have any Ritz crackers?” “No Ritz. We have Wheat Thins, pretzels, cereal bars, popcorn, fruit… carrots. What would you like?” “How about smoothies? Or maybe you can take us for ice cream? And can Lisa stay for dinner?” “Can’t you eat something here? How about walnuts and dried cranberries? And Lisa …

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The Shameful Sheep

shit storms, shame, and stories that make you cringe

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Lost in Suburbia

based on the syndicated humor column by Tracy Beckerman

Snarky in the Suburbs

Middle aged, Uncool and Not Bringing Sexy Back