I’ve written over 700 posts on this site. While the majority have been ultimately inconsequential, every so often, I come up with a post that turns out pretty well. Feeling somewhat nostalgic, I decided to look back through the archives and pick out my ten favorite posts.
I’m probably forgetting one or two that I really liked, but 704 posts is a lot to sort through.
In no particular order:
When times get tough, it’s nice to know who your friends are. Sadly, this is a lesson that too many of us learn too late in life – if at all. I’m hoping my children can figure this out early on, but if they struggle, I can always rely on The Simpsons to help me out.
It was inevitable that my parents would sell my childhood home one day. When that day finally came, I had to clean out my old stuff and wish the house – and by extension, my childhood – goodbye.
I couldn’t decide which album – Please, Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em or To The Extreme – was the greatest party rap album of 1991. Obviously, there was only one way to settle the matter: A Dr. Jack-style breakdown!
The world doesn’t give a crap about your life plan. Nothing drives that point home like seeing two heartbeats on a sonogram.
I wondered if it was wrong to push my children to become fans of the Philadelphia sports teams when it’s caused me so much misery. My only hope is that they’ll be luckier than I was.
This post is also notable for featuring a picture of me wearing Jams.
The first (but certainly not the last!) time I discussed one of my children’s bowel movements. I’m not sure exactly why I keep writing about my kids’ poop, but then again, I’m not sure why I write anything.
If you don’t like reading about poop, the post also talks about a really trippy Friskies commercial.
They shared a womb, they share a birthday and a bedroom; but they are two very different people. I wasn’t sure – and I’m still not – if by doing what is best for both of them, that we aren’t giving either of them exactly what they need.
Not every comic book movie can be a huge blockbuster that everybody loves. Some of them are just crappy sequels with Nicholas Cage. Some say my Cage conversation is too similar to what Andy Samberg did on Saturday Night Live. Did they ever consider that Samberg was ripping ME off?
The Buble interviews are usually fun, and this time, Michael brought (a possibly insane) Idina Menzel along for the ride.
Sleepless nights, stressful days, and hallucinations; these are just some of the joys that come with infant twins. There were times when I wasn’t sure I would survive the process, and in hindsight, I’m not entirely sure I did.
Long time readers: Are there any glaring omissions?