I'm a guy living in Colorado. I used to live in NYC. You can reach me at itssharingtime (at) gmail.com.
![This novel took me forever to get through. I felt like I was reading it for school. In fact, I bet people will be reading it for school at some point.
It wasn’t my cup of tea. If you’ve read it and can explain to me what the fuck it all meant, I’d love to hear your thoughts. I’m at itssharingtime [at] gmail.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lzs49z7p031qz778no1_400.jpg "This novel took me forever to get through. I felt like I was reading it for school. In fact, I bet people will be reading it for school at some point.
It wasn’t my cup of tea. If you’ve read it and can explain to me what the fuck it all meant, I’d love to hear your thoughts. I’m at itssharingtime [at] gmail.")
This novel took me forever to get through. I felt like I was reading it for school. In fact, I bet people will be reading it for school at some point.
It wasn’t my cup of tea. If you’ve read it and can explain to me what the fuck it all meant, I’d love to hear your thoughts. I’m at itssharingtime [at] gmail.
If this kale isn’t organic, I’m going to punch someone in the throat.
— an actual thought I had at the supermarket today, before quickly realizing that I should never be allowed to complain about anything, ever
Watching her host SNL last night, I recalled the brief encounter I had with her at the afterparty I went to around 4,012 seasons ago (approximate). My girlfriend at the time was a huge fan and wanted to meet her, but was too nervous to approach her. I decided not to let the moment slip away and make the introduction myself.
I walked up to her when she wasn’t talking to anyone and said hello. I explained that my girlfriend wanted to meet her, but was too shy to say hello, and would she talk to her for a second?
She agreed right away, and I motioned for my girlfriend to come over.
Once she joined us, Maya told me that I needed to leave so that they could talk.
SORRY YOU CAN’T TALK WITH JEWS AROUND, MAYA RUDOLPH.
It’s our pleasure to announce the birth of Fiona Emily Smith, nine months after my ex-girlfriend and I had sex one night in an Applebees bathroom after splitting one of those insane 2 for $20 deals. Maybe we should’ve named the kid Apple Bees! She weighs in at 6 pounds, 3 ounces, which is pretty big for a girl. Hope she won’t grow up to be a fatty! I don’t know, I know nothing about babies. My ex told me to read these books about pregnancy and kids, but the gross diagrams in them made me lose my appetite.
Fiona is the best thing to ever happen to me and whatserface, and in lieu of baby clothes for the little tyke, we’re accepting Applebees gift cards.
“Hey baby,” I said. “What’re you doing?”
“Umm, I’m having Valentine’s Day lunch with my boyfriend, asshole,” she said.
“Yeah, who the fuck are you?” the dude with a million muscles said.
“I’m Lee,” I said. “And I’m here to steal your girlfriend.”
They both laughed. I did not laugh. I knew I would be the one laughing soon!!!
“This is no joke. She’s caught my eye and now I will steal her from you.”
“With what?” he said, winking at his girlfriend. “Your big muscles, tough guy?”
That’s when the net I attached to the ceiling fell on top of her. No one was laughing then. Except for me. I was laughing.
“I’ve kidnapped you!” I said. “You’re my Valentine now! You will love me and no one else!”
I began clapping and crying at the same time, tears of joy pouring down my face as I finally felt the warm embrace of love surround me, erasing years and years of loneliness. This was the happiest I’d ever been.
And all it took was a $25 net and some tape to get it on the ceiling. Why hadn’t I done this sooner?!
“Bro, you have bested me,” he said, and bowed.
“I know,” I said.
The girl who was in my net began crying tears of happiness. Then she began to speak. Everyone in the restaurant shut up because they knew they were about to hear some big news.
“First when you put me in this net, I was like, ‘Oh Jesus, I’m trapped in a huge net and this psycho’s trying to abduct me.’ But then I felt the warmth of the net and thought about the time and effort you put into taping it to the ceiling, and now I feel nothing but love for you.”
“Wait, you love me? I think this is moving too fast,” I said.
“Huh?”
I knew what I had to do.
“Baby, I hate to do this to you on Valentine’s Day, but I think we have to break up.”
She began crying again, but this time they were SAD tears.
“WHY? WHY? WHY?”
“That’s the way the bough breaks, sugarcakes,” I said, coining a new phrase accidentally, but mostly on purpose.
No. No, I will not watch your stuff. You will gather up your laptop and your gym bag and you will take it into the bathroom like a goddamn adult.
Love,
Lee
Guys, just got this news that will blow your mind. Adele was actually singing about this hamburger she didn’t have time to eat in “Someone Like You.” Makes the song even more sad, if you ask me. :(
Dear Thirtysomething Moms Laughing Uproariously In This Diner,
I know this is your first time out without your newborn in three months, but your excitement and laughter over Mom Stuff while you eat an egg white omelet is cramping everyone else’s style. I know your kid can’t talk yet and your husband tunes you out when you talk about how yoga went today, but please, for the love of all that is good and holy, stop fake laughing so loud. None of what you’re saying about your infant’s eating habits is remotely funny, let alone something that would cause your friends to slap the table and make your half-caf lattes rattle in their saucers.
Also, when your kids turn eight, they will hate you with the passion of a thousand fiery SONS. Now I’M fake laughing…and it feels glorious!!!!
Yours in Activia,
Lee
