A man gets to a certain age and he starts to wonder what it's all about. What am I doing here? Why are things the way they are? When will Samuel L. Jackson say “no” to a script? How am I the only one capable of putting toilet paper back on the spindle? Why won't … Continue reading Why I’m changing my name to Kumquat Ferrari

I'm staging an intervention and I need your help. It's not for a heroin addict or a pill popper. We won't be drying out any alcoholics or de-icing a meth head. The party that needs intervening in this case is a rootin-tootin', platform-building, social media whoring, blogging, bragging, taco-eating, bourbon-swilling, essay-writing need-machine—me. I know what you're … Continue reading Author platform looking more like a gallows

You can't make this up. You may think this is made up because it involves Bigfoot or aliens or female orgasms. However, rest assured in the knowledge that this is not about any of those mostly real things, nor is this made up. People like to say “You can't make this up” when they tell … Continue reading No, really, you can’t make this up

If I could go back and give advice to my 14-year-old self it would be this: marriage is worth the trouble but must be managed like chronic disease. Even now you may be wondering why it is that, no matter how long two people have been together, no matter how much they think they know … Continue reading What are you thinking? (and other relationship landmines)

This was supposed to be a piece about a character named “Dick” and how most of us—chiefly me—are more like him than we are like a John Cusack character. Unfortunately, this piece isn't even remotely about Dick—it's about John Cusack and me … but mostly me. I was 11 years old the first time I … Continue reading Me, Dick, and John Cusack