I have no idea how I managed to find and marry one of the 16 women in Pittsburgh who are NOT sports fans. But I did.
Because the only thing worse than an interrupted shit is a shit interrupted by a bottle of Pantene thrown at your spleen.
Yes, six months of marriage does make me an expert. Thanks for asking, though.
Damon's latest at EBONY on the word "husband" and how he doesn't quite feel like one -- at least the movie version of one -- yet.
Although I feel (relatively) young and think I look (relatively) young, I'm closer to 50 than I am to 18. Perhaps the Jordans are a sign of a mid-life crisis
Maybe they don't know everything about you, but they know you. And with that comes a steadily increasing level of imperviousness to your bullshit. Since you can't really bullshit them, you can't really bullshit yourself. Not anymore.
In the most meticulous display of bitchassness you may see this month, a frustrated husband made a s...
There's no other time you'll have people from all corners of your life in one place. Well, maybe your funeral. But that doesn't count, cause you won't be there.
People keep asking if I'm nervous my single days are ending. I don't have the heart to tell them the truth. ("No. Not at all.")
Unless they're in that 1% of salmon-colored pants wearing motherf*ckers whose family owns the rights to the color orange, your soon-to-be married friends will need money.
Today is May 19th. Which means I will be getting married two months from today. Which also means...
In a culture that encourages us all to have options, we don’t stand for any presentations of ambiguity in affairs of the heart.