words

If you’re watching your waistline, December can be more stressful than joyful.

This is my daily writing exercise when the creativity just ain’t flowin’.

Fuck Halloween—ghosting is real and it’s happening everywhere, to seemingly everyone. The topic recently came up while I was out to dinner with some friends. We asked a buddy of mine if his girl was joining for an upcoming concert.

“We’re not talking anymore, I think.”

Halloween weekend is upon us. In case you still don’t have your costume, I’ve put together some options for you. The best part? You probably have most of these in your closet.

I never stood a chance. That entire theory of us human beings starting off as a blank slate is all a bunch of bullshit. There are particular traits that I learned from my parents before I was ever able to form a cohesive thought.

Sure, it’s October 10th, but are we really going to let that prevent us from discussing going sober this month?

Me vs The Guy My Boss Told Me Not to Worry About

I love my friends, but catching up with them is really hard sometimes. Everyone is growing up and it feels more and more like I’ll forever be sat at the children’s table. I feel stuck. Work is fine, but I don’t know how to advance my career. My family is all sorts of fucked up right now and I feel helpless. The last girl I dated left me for someone else, married the guy on my birthday, and recently reached out because she “doesn’t know why we stopped talking.” (The icing, if you will.)

So, yeah, it ain’t great right now. I don’t really know what to say when my friends ask how I’m doing. “I’m figuring it out,” sounds a lot different now at 34 than it did when I was 25.

But, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, nothing cures the blues like a good, ol’ fashioned drink-a-thon with the crew. Get dressed, we’re going to dinner, baby!

It’s taken me 34 years to realize that I cannot indulge every whim.

“Oooh, I like her.”

Get your mind out of the gutter.

“Pumped to announce I’m partnering with the government on an official collab! An absolute dream come true. Follow me on my journey through the halls of justice! Link in bio for merch.”

— Me showing up for court-ordered community service.

While I’d love to sit here and write stories detailing my ruggedness, they simply do not exist. It would be pretty sweet to tell tall tales about how I’ve survived in the wilderness for weeks with nothing but a pocket knife and some string, subsisting on a rotation of small animals I was able to catch and cook over the fire I was able to start. I wish I could regale you with stories of the many fights I’ve won out there in the cold, indifferent streets. Shit, even something simple and noble like helping a stranger change their tire.

Truth is, I’m not manly in the slightest sense. I’m not good with tools. I can barely throw a spiral. I know how to start a fire, but you guys better take a couple steps back before I try.

Here, a brief description of the man I turned out to be.

TJ Miller describes a lavish Hollywood party and his encounter with Paris Hilton.

Dear Intern Who Sits in the Cubicle Behind Me and Watches Me Check MLB Scores All Day,

The jig is up, it appears. Our cubicle walls are short and you, dear intern, are tall. Not to mention my screen is huge. I think I do a pretty good job at looking busy as I click and type away, but you seem to have discovered the truth.

Ten years ago on this very day, my friend Vince and I guest-bartended at McFadden’s Pub. I reached out to see if they’d let me write an article about bartending, and they actually thought it was a good idea. This is just one of many reasons they are now permanently closed.