“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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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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A voice whispered in my ear at the Starbucks’ counter. “Wait until next week. You’ll be amazed how many houses go on the market.” “What are you talking about?” I was confused yet intrigued. “Last kid off to college. It’s either sell or split up, divorce or divest. Time to pack it up.” This observation …

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As I walked across the room on a cool spring night, I looked at the action in progress. Scores of teenagers flew by me, clad in oversized sparkly glasses, hats and colorful socks. They sprinted from photo booths to the kid’s lounge, depositing their goods procured from hyped up, jacked-up DJ dancers hired to tantalize …

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As we sat in a beautiful French restaurant enjoying a romantic lunch, my wife and I reflected on our lives. It was our 25th anniversary and though we had always planned for a two-week trip through Tuscany to mark this occasion, the restaurant would have to serve in its place. College, home repairs, mortgages… Tuscany, …

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There I stood in my best pressed pants, crisp dress shirt and color coordinated, clip-on tie. Waiting to pose for my 5th-grade picture. Standing with my classmates, we were all coiffed and coutured by our mothers for posterity. With the last picture taken, the photographer asked our teacher, Mrs. Goodstein to move forward for her …

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  “You still have a fever. You can’t go to the party.” “But daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad, daaaaaaaaaaaaaady, everyone will be there. It’s my first sleepover party. You’re so mean. I’m never talking to you again!” And so it goes. Back and forth between mom and dad, trying to drive a wedge between resolute (wife) and wavering (dad), …

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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