Stories and essays from my life
Poop references, races to the bathroom, and disgusting nicknames aside, I have never wanted to trade my brothers for sisters, I don’t care how many times they farted on me.
When my mom was around 65 years old, she started showing signs of dementia. Although she had always been demented in a funny, twisted, hilarious sort of way, this was the real deal, full-on clinical dementia.
Anal beads, pronouns, and surgical gloves: My non-binary roommate experience
The Passover seder requires all participants to drink four glasses of wine, and when I was seven-years-old, it sure made for an interesting night.
Stale snacks, prolapsed anuses, and naughty septuagenarians; my first experience in a BDSM dungeon
Turns out writing a song for a long lost love, recording it, and shipping it over international waters, isn't enough to win them over.
My quest to make the most amount of money, in the least amount of time, doing the littlest amount of work possible has led me to this conclusion; jobs like these usually require full frontal nudity.