My life is just like Breaking Bad except instead of a chemistry teacher I'm just a guy and instead of making meth I don't do much.

My fantasy football team got mixed up in another fantasy and now they're stuck on a pirate ship with a chick in a Catwoman suit.

Every time the circus comes to town, I can't help thinking, Somewhere out there, there's clown semen.

I am faced with a bruising dilemma: pay to fix the dishwasher or continue serving everything in waffle cones.

Can you have a seance to summon the ghost of a dead zombie?

I was born an emotional tampon in a cauldron of dysfunction.

What's a farmer's market without some guy singing Here Comes The Sun in a way that makes you wish the sun would stop coming up.