I want to live in this world where a raise means more money to put toward things. This year I got a raise...and my rent went up and grocery prices went up and fuel prices went up and so on. Sure, it would have been nice to send that extra $100 a month to retirement or savings or extra fun. But, that’s just not how…

So what are intersex, agender, non-binary and other gentlefolk to do?

It’s been 15 years since i lost my mom when i was a kid, and cooking is actually one of the things that brought my dad, my brother, and myself closer together after a while.

we delegated out assignments; my brother grills, my dad cooks, and I bake.

stayed that way mostly ever since.

My late partner loved nothing better than to make chili with amazingly complicated spice blends, and I’m glad no one was around to hear the snort-laugh-sob that came out of my mouth at your post. You are so right.

Hang in there, friend. You are doing the best that you can and still going strong for your daughter. It will get better; just one painful day at a time. Prayers to you and your girl.

“Go try and tell” should actually be “Go try to tell” because that’s how language works, you fucking plebeian.

The Pleasures of Cooking for One by Judith Jones is a lovely cookbook that helped me deal with cooking for myself after a loss that involved myself in the joy of food and not just the motions of mealtime. It took a long time to reclaim spaces that were shared with the person I lost, like restaurants and favorite bars,…

I don’t know about death so much, but when my five-year marriage went kablooey, I lost the house chef. Cooking tended to be my wife’s job, and I spent most of 2010 (divorce went final in the last week of ‘09) slowly relearning how to cook the food that I like the way I like it.

“The hardest part is mealtime”. Well, they’re sure as hell not wrong.

Oof, yes. My father was the cook in the family, and it took a long time for my mother to be able to simply walk into the kitchen or a grocery store without breaking down. The result was a lot of Taco Bell, or just not eating. Blue Apron and their ilk were a lifeline.

Vengeance always comes with a cost.

Just label it keto chocolate cake for all those sweet clicks.

Are you saying…the cake IS A LIE?

Bahahahahahaha! Yesss! Omg, I just replayed some of these awkward/painful memories of being asked, and substituted your responses for what I actually said. And I have to say, this has been surprisingly therapeutic—Now I almost can’t wait to be asked again! I’m SO ready!

If you’re feeling particularly aggressive, you can try, “There I was explaining to another total stranger that I was actually perfectly fine and BOOM! God came down from Heaven and smote me right there. Big finger form the sky. My name echoing across the heavens. And just like that He was gone and I was ... like this. …

I would just share something about yourself and then wait for cues from people about what they feel comfortable opening up about. Ideally, it should be a fairly equal and even exchange, so that you aren’t over sharing, and they don’t feel like they are participating in a game of twenty questions. Allow space for their…

Fuck sports. Stick to the good shit!

It would taste like a rotten Carmen Miranda

i mean if it’s an active shooter scenario i’m going to help in any way to keep my fellow citizens out of harms way. block doors, tackle the dude when he changes clips, hide and be quiet...whatever it takes.

Tell ‘me, Clay: