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Stewpendous Some days, I’m totally overwhelmed by how much work it’s going to be just to move into our new house. Just to move all the stuff. Then I think about the home repair projects and start making task lists of things that absolutely must be done before I will spend a night in thatContinue reading

You’ve got me? Who’s got you? Ah, Superman Returns. It hit me right here. (Points to heart.) Was quite surprised at how dreamy the new guy is. Even when he was, as I call it, “All lacquered up” so his face looked made of plastic like Jude Law’s in A.I. But come on, “How manyContinue reading

Talk to me, Harry Winston, tell me all about it Diamond rings : Marriage :: Barbecue sauce : Pork ribs. Stay with me here. Before my brother became a vegetarian, he preferred ribs above all other foods. Then he realized that it wasn’t the taste of the ribs he liked, but the barbecue sauce. FrenchContinue reading

Meet Stew

My congressman is creepier than your congressman “Dear K.N. and R.E., (our full names) My campaign staff and I were recently in your neighborhood and noticed that you currently reside in an apartment. Please be assured that I respect your privacy, but also wanted to take the time to share the issues with you thatContinue reading

The gift of fear Rob has an audio book that creeps me out because he likes to listen to it while falling asleep. It’s about all these people who almost got raped and murdered, but survived because they listened to their gut. Apparently I’ve been influenced, because I just fired an insurance agent ‘cus heContinue reading

Like rain on my wedding day George W. offends me. “The irony is that what they need to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit and it’s over,” he told Tony Blair. I don’t care that he said “shit,” but the misuse of the word “irony” has got to stop.

All right already Can we just move into our house? I need to see my furniture in the rooms to figure out how to arrange it.

My congressman is funnier than your congressman Better Know a District

They better be Canadian This morning, I walked by a bunch of high school cheerleaders, on campus for cheer camp. They were doing one of those spelling cheers: “D-E-F (pause) Eee-N-C-E.” I could tell they weren’t British, and I almost stopped to correct them.