So it was about three months after I kicked my husband out of our Brooklyn apartment for having a long term affair. I was Not In A Good Place. In fact, I generally describe that time of my life as having discovered where my line in the sand was. But anyway.

“YOU WANNA JOIN HIM? MOVE YOUR CAR.”

My mom and I were at the discount store, waiting in line. She was talking and not paying attention when they opened another checker and someone cut in front of us before I could break her off. It happened to be a woman of color and my mother said something racist.

I was studying abroad in college our beloved family dog died unexpectedly; I was devastated that I wasn’t there and was really struggling. I desperately wanted to talk to my boyfriend (back in the states) about it but hadn’t been able to reach him for days. A day or so later, a mutual friend reached out to gently tell…

My career is in international logistics, so I’ve had to deal with all types over the past 30+ years. One immediately springs to mind:

I quit smoking about 12 years ago after having a pack a day habit for almost 20 years. At the time I was taking a course in college and was bussing to school. I was on day 3 of no smoking and was really struggling. Grumpy, shakey, felt like crap. So we stopped to let on some passengers and 2 guys got on the bus. I was…

I want to note that I am generally a very chill person. The results of a chaotic childhood. Said chaotic childhood was also somewhat emotionally and psychologically abusive. Not to the point of “very, very bad” but it remained steadily on “unhappy” for my entire life, until I was finally able to put some distance…

When I was in my late twenties, I felt like my life was crashing. I already had a suicide attempt notched and I was self-harming on a near daily basis. I finally worked up the nerve to see a therapist. It took me about a year to tell her about the abuse I grew up with but I held it together. That was my thing. Never…

Back in the days before Uber...hell, back in the days before everyone moved to Brooklyn, it could be a challenge to get a taxi to take you from Manhattan to the outer boroughs. Cabbies would ask you where you were going before you even got in the car, and if you said Brooklyn, they might just peel out into traffic to…

I work security, and normally am pretty chill (literally - if it’s not on fire or arterial bleeding, there’s no need to panic). This happened in our local mall. We had a medical event in a second floor store, patient dropped unconscious, not breathing. Our main elevators were broken, so we brought the paramedics in…

After a year-plus of 60 hour work weeks and 4.5 hours of sleep per night because of anxiety about work (I did a sleep study and everything and the doctor flat out told me it was anxiety), I, who only raises my voice if someone can’t hear me, absolutely went nutso & yelled at a coworker on the phone who was only asking…

Was it a break up?

Well said. She was essentially the Pet Rock of First Ladies.

Based on the extremely light paper trail left on the internet from “Be Best”, the totality of the initiative comes down to a 5 page pamphlet on talking to your kids about internet usage and a word search. They didn’t even bother to make T-Shirts.

The role of first lady is 100% unpaid labor. It looks to me like she was doing the bare minimum for a ‘job’ she didn’t want in the most graceless, alienating way possible.

Agree. I feel like they both had moments of growth. Watching Miranda wash her mother-in-law in the bathtub was just heartbreaking and she’d come so far from where she started. But Carrie started self-centered and only got worse. 

That sounds like SO many conversations my husband and I have had. Which person is which is completely interchangeable.

I called and made the appointment after Husband admitted he was too scared to do so after months of a “zit” not healing on his face.

Mr E was present at the birth of his son, but I have to say that the true test of intimacy came about a year afterwards, when I got food poisoning from the fucking McDonalds under fucking Rockefeller Center, and was so virulently ill that foul liquid was ejecting from both ends. Not only did he clean up after me, but…

My husband and I celebrated our first anniversary by waiting and hoping for me to fart... I was recovering from abdominal surgery after a ruptured ectopic pregnancy and one of the big signals that your body is recovering is your ability to fart. There was a round of applause from him when I did.