“Here’s the way I will structure this interview. I will speak and ask you questions for 40 minutes. At the end of the 40 minutes, you will have 15 minutes to ask me questions. We then will end 5 minutes early so I can prepare for my next call. Do you agree? Okay, let’s …

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When I first got my driver’s license many moons ago, I was ecstatic at the prospect of the open road. I could drive anywhere and everywhere I wanted (or as far as my gas money or my dad’s gas card would take me). Errands for my mom? No problem. Pick up five friends and stuff …

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“You look exhausted. Everything okay?” “All good. Was up late last night. Didn’t get enough sleep.” “Lucky you. We were both out cold by 10.” “Not that. The game ended and I was about to turn off the TV when… you know… I flipped around, and it was on. Once it’s on, I have to …

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I stood at the finish line, waiting for my daughter to come flying through, covered in sweat and a dusty rainbow of colors. She was running a 5K in support of pediatric cancer, joyously pelted by volunteers with washable pastel paint. As I watched the various runners stumble home with victorious chants cascading through the …

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Back in the days when print media ruled the suburban sprawl of America, The New York Times reigned supreme. From the crack of dawn, from one driveway to the next, you could find the newspaper waiting patiently for tasseled or slippered feet to arrive. Scooping the paper into their hands, subscribers would devour it from …

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Last night, a deer hit me. Or should I say, I got in a deer’s way. As I left my regular Tuesday-night tennis game (where four aging men still believe Wimbledon is a possibility), I descended leisurely down the dark country road towards home. As I listened to the mellow sounds of Sirius XM, trying …

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While conducting one of my random Google searches, I realized George Clooney, that paradigm of all things good and good looking, is one month older than I. Yet, his fiancé is 15 years younger than my wife. Is this the new math for men over 50? I mean, George and I were both born when …

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  Scene: A dark, nightlight-lit bedroom deep in the heart of suburbia. One slightly graying, nearing 50 man. One used-to-be gray, now professionally dyed woman. One hypo-allergenic dog perched on the edge of the bed. As the omnipresent central air conditioning cools off this private, semi-secluded boudoir, things begin to heat up. There is tension …

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The Shameful Sheep

shit storms, shame, and stories that make you cringe

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Where Westport meets the world

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A daily selection of the best content published on WordPress, collected for you by humans who love to read.

Lost in Suburbia

based on the syndicated humor column by Tracy Beckerman

Snarky in the Suburbs

Middle aged, Uncool and Not Bringing Sexy Back