Nobody likes to feel stupid so it is infuriating when our language trips us up. I’m not talking about auto-correct or remembering which too to use, I’m talking about blatantly butchering a word and being too stupid to know.

This happens to me all the time.

If I could make one wish for a happy couple on their wedding day, it would be that they’ve found someone who will be as loyal to them as I am to my brands of toiletries.

Every time I order coffee at a restaurant, I fear the waitstaff hates me. Several friends who’ve worked as servers have confirmed that this is likely true.

Not sophisticated enough for the bartender, but more complicated than either soda or water, coffee is by far, the highest maintenance drink. 

I spent a considerable amount of time last year empathizing with a bird who kept flying into my basement window. It wasn’t clear if he was trying to fight with his own reflection, or mate with it, but either way I could relate.

I’ve been full of various thoughts and anxieties leading up to my wife Jenny’s c-section scheduled for Tuesday morning.

The vast majority of them revolve around the health and well-being of my wife and daughter, which brings me some relief because that proves I’m not a narcissist. 

I am not particularly sensitive when it comes to flags; nobody trained as a lawyer should be. We know that to hate it is to love it, like a teen girl throwing shade at her mom for singing joyfully in the car.

I’m not even six weeks into raising my own child and I already can’t stop comparing my newborn daughter to a cat.

Nothing frustrates me quite like having to hand wash dishes next to a running dishwasher.

If the items are fragile or hand-wash only, that’s on me; I knew what I was getting into when I bought them. But if the items are dishwasher-friendly and I’m only hand-washing them because I didn’t plan well enough – I’m both humbled and embarrassed.

I adopt many different voices in my day-to-day life. The way I speak to old buddies is different from how I speak to colleagues, just like I speak differently to my nephews than I do to my grandmother-in-law. None of these speaking styles are inherently phony, they each reflect different aspects of my personality.

I was promised a future at bars with fun guys like George Wendt and Chris Farley eating wings and busting balls. Today’s beer drinkers are obnoxiously pretentious. It’s as if all the characters on Cheers turned into Frasier.