159 results for 'humor'
I’m drowning in bills. Every month they come in tsunami-sized waves: mortgage, car payment, phone, cable, electric, water, and credit cards. If I don’t find a way to spend less money, I’m going to have to get another job just to keep my head above water. Do you have any tips for saving money?
Dear Over-Billed Billy,
Of course I can help you save money! It’s easy: downsize and simplify. Take a long, honest look at your life and determine to do away with everything superfluous. If something... (more)
My father has lost one of his hearing aids again. I think this is the fifth time since the New Year. Frequently he finds them in the pocket of a sport coat or a pair of pants, but unfortunately that little device doesn’t seem to be holed up in the usual hideouts. We decided to check the washer and dryer…to no avail… and then the ol’ vacuum bag, but that’s when things went south.
My parents had just purchased a new carpet sweeper. Not a Eureka from Sears or a Dirt Devil from Walmart…but the Valhalla of all vacuums…The Kirby Sentria. The crème de la crème deluxe model that costs upwards... (more)
My new girlfriend is jealous, obsessive, and possessive. She reads my e-mails and goes through my phone to check my calls, texts, and pictures. She gets furious if I talk to other women. I think she might be psychotic, and I know she’s dangerous. “If you leave me, I’ll hunt you down.” “If I ever catch you with another woman, I’ll kill the bitch. Then I’ll kill you.” These are the types of things she says to me every day. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks! I want to get away from her, but I’m afraid she’ll actually carry out her threats. She carries a... (more)
I’m a forty-year-old computer engineer (in other words, a nerd), and I’m being bullied. A guy I work with always makes fun of me in front of our colleagues. I would be able to bear the hurtful insults, but he takes the abuse much farther. Sometimes when I’m in the men’s room he and his cronies corner me and beat me up. They punch me in the stomach and chest (so as not to leave any visible bruises) and take my lunch money. Then they dunk my head in the toilet until I agree to do all their work. This kind of thing has been happening my whole life, and I don’t know... (more)
I’m the senior partner of a law firm, and I’m in trouble. Our office is a very diverse workplace: we employ people of African, Latin American, Asian, Middle Eastern, and even Native American descent. There’s one racial/ethnic group that isn’t represented on our payroll, though, and this is where the trouble lies. Our local White Rights Alliance – a group that promotes the interests of white people in our community – is threatening to sue us because we don’t employ any Caucasians. They allege that we’re not an equal opportunity employer, we’re neglecting our affirmative... (more)
I was just released from prison, and I don’t want to go back. Ever. I’ve been looking for a job, but I can’t find one. I can’t even get an interview. Employers just won’t give me a chance – every application asks if I’ve ever been convicted of a crime. Once the employer sees that I answered “Yes,” my application goes in the trash. What am I supposed to do? I’m ready to go straight and live a respectable life, but if society doesn’t give me an opportunity to make an honest living, I’m going to have to turn back to a life of crime.
Poetry sucks. With its flowery language and vague phrasings, you have to study and interpret it just to extract any kind of meaning from it. Then, invariably, some “literary expert” – like my high school English teacher – will tell you that your analysis is wrong, and condescendingly enlighten you as to the “true” meaning of the poem. Who needs that kind of aggravation? Outside of dirty limericks, I have no use for this entire literary genre. Poetry sucks.
As I was drunkenly spouting off this distaste for poetry one night, a friend of mine (a high school English teacher –... (more)
While some people spend St. Patrick’s Day clad in green, doused in Guinness, and channeling Riverdance, twenty-one years ago on that blessed day I was dilating 10cm pushing the reluctant youngest of my three daughters into this crazy world.
From that moment on, she became an Irish girl. It hardly mattered we came from hearty Norwegian and English stock, because when her head crowned at the onset of the beloved Saint Paddy’s parade, we were immediately hurled into a foreign land of green food coloring, shamrocks, leprechauns, and drunks hell-bent on puking corn beef chunks.
My boyfriend is cheating on me! Probably. Maybe. The other night he called to say he was working overtime and he would be home late. He never works late! Then when he got home he brought me flowers to apologize for being late. He never brings me flowers! Right after we put the flowers in a vase he jumped in the shower. He never showers right after work! Later that night I offered him my body and he said he wasn’t in the mood. He never turns down sex! I can’t help but think he cheated on me. What do you think? And if he did cheat, what should I do?
I exist in a den of iniquity, amidst the most perilous scoundrels this city has seen. I’m a single woman who, through unfortunate life circumstances, has been forced to move to the slums. Just outside my door I find gang members, drug dealers, hookers, and pimps. The only “legitimate” businesses in the area are seedy bars – the haunts of murderers and rapists. Needless to say, I do not feel safe. I’m afraid to leave my apartment, and when I’m here I fear that some thug will break in and murder me. How can I feel safe in my own home?