When complications from my hip surgery left me in chronic pain, romance became a struggle.
30 sliders each. Five orders of fries. Five Cokes. But is it still the same in the age of the Impossible Slider?
It never fails: Whenever those of us on death row are granted even the smallest blessing, favor or minor look-out, one of our fellow prisoners comes along and screws it up for everyone.
In the era before cellphones and Twitter, the experience of awaiting a looming dark cloud of volcanic ash was full of fear and wonder — then the sky turned black.
My cat was a fearless hunter who stalked the countryside — until she squared off with a rattlesnake.
When a work environment turns toxic, leaving can be the best option — even when you're in your dream job.
"The Cosby Show" and "Black-ish" uncritically depict black fathers' often caustic "coaching" to prepare their sons for an inhospitable world. I know, from my own family, that cruelty isn't the way to make a man.
Imagining a life in the fictional lair belonging to Richard Adams's rabbit protagonists in Hampshire, England.
Gaza, Eurovision and the American Jewish dilemma.
I finally found something in common with tough-guy Kiryu Kazuma.
Chemo left her exhausted and depressed, but Mom found comfort in an obscure vlogger who reminds her of home.
Sometimes all it takes is prosciutto, Rioja and a dear friend's invitation.
My basic problem: I had very little idea what I was doing. A secondary, but increasingly dire, problem was that I was nervously and uncontrollably shaking.
What you learn about human desire when you get intimate with a piece of talking silicone.
I am a married, gainfully employed man who has completed three full decades on Earth, and yet, here I am accepting shipments of designer boxer briefs or a pair of "work slacks" from the woman who bore me.
At the airport in Pyongyang, Pompeo got into a stretch limo as I got into a van with a dashboard adorned with a plaque saying "The American Road."
My father went on strike. Twice. Once in 1980 and again in 1986, both when I lived at home.
Morgan Jerkins tackles the time-worn question of how far is too far to go in revealing yourself in first-person writing.
Consider it the turning point of gay relationships, platonic or otherwise.
The best strategy is blasting everyone you see — until it's not.
That's our best stuff for today. Great job! Read more