I Have Pears

SERVICE AGENT: Dig a hole in your yard and fucking bury the pears!

CALLER: What if that grows a fucking pear tree?!

SERVICE AGENT: Holy shit, yeah, don’t do that!!

— The New Yorker, January 2O2O

Punta Grande Resort Reviews

“I surprised my boyfriend for his birthday last month with a trip to Punta Grande, then he surprised me by having tons of sex with Miguel. Wow! Happy birthday!”

— McSweeney’s, October 2O19

Okay, You Can Get A Dog

“Losing a pet is difficult. So is burying one, which is something you’ll be doing. And also saying a few nice words about him—thoughts, memories, that sort of thing. That’s called a eulogy. Your pet, your eulogy.”

— The New Yorker, May 2O19

* Not-to-be-Missed Shouts of 2O19

Winter Blahs

“Shorter days mean going to work in the dark, coming home in the dark, hiding in the dark to surprise your friend Doug on his birthday, playing laser tag in the dark at Doug’s party, and then treating Doug to dinner at a dark Italian restaurant. So, basically, Doug is having one hell of a birthday.”

— The New Yorker, February 2O19

Tick Check

“Ticks wait in the grass and the leaves with their legs outstretched, ready to attach to a passing host, burrow into the host’s skin, and feed on the host’s blood while transmitting disease through their saliva, often within a few hours of contact, so it’s crucial to recognize how fucking gross that is.”

— The New Yorker, August 2O18

Bad News

EVERYONE: Sometimes I just stare at terrible things on the screen with zero emotion on my face. Then eventually I snap out of it and start pointing and laughing, so that’s good.

EVERYBODY: I’m scared I’m getting numb to things, too, but then I wake up screaming from asphyxiating night terrors and I’m relieved I’m still normal.

— The New Yorker, July 2O18

* Not-to-be-Missed Shouts of 2O18

The Writer

“The Writer refuses to allow criticism of his writing to sow doubt in other aspects of his life. He has other critics who specifically handle that stuff.”

— The New Yorker, May 2O18

An Emoji Correspondance

“Your second smiley face brought additional enjoyment to me. While I considered simply sending you another smiley face, I grew concerned that this particular expression no longer accurately depicted the extent of playfulness I’m now feeling. So, instead, I’m sending you a winky face with a tongue dangling from its mouth.”

— The New Yorker, January 2O18

My LinkedIn Photo

“My head is facing forward, while the rest of me is turned to the side. This is my body’s natural position when I’m at work. It’s playful, yet awkward, yet very awkward. It also offers a glimpse into how efficient I am even when I’m on the clock. Imagine that you’ve just stopped me while I’m on my way to a meeting, and I turn toward you, but only with the body parts I need for talking.”

— The New Yorker, November 2O17

Steve At The Party

“Steve wears jeans at the party. Darker than his work pair, thinner than his everydays. These are his party jeans. Steve knows that wearing these jeans leaves the door wide open to intercourse.”

— The New Yorker, July 2O17

I Work from Home

911 OPERATOR: 911—what’s your emergency?

ROBERT: Hi, I . . . uh . . . I work from home.

OPERATOR: O.K., is anyone else there with you, sir?

ROBERT: No, I’m alone.

— The New Yorker, February 2O17

* #13 Most-Read New Yorker Piece in 2O17

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King of New York

“I passed hot-dog carts and fruit carts full of the famous New York City bananas I'd heard so much about, and I told myself that one day I'd buy one of those bananas and eat it just like they did in the movies.”

— The New Yorker, August 2O16

Wedding Announcement

“The bride, thirty, graduated summa cum laude from Dartmouth, with a B.A. in education. The groom, thirty-two, graduated magna cum laude from Penn, with a B.A. in economics. This disparity in achievement will be a recurring source of tension for the couple, first rearing its head during their honeymoon, in Belize, when the groom will take a little too long to calculate a tip and the bride will step in to “summa the situation”—a phrase the groom will coin in that moment and continue to employ for years to come, with diminishing amusement.”

— The New Yorker, July 2O16

* Not-to-be-Missed Shouts of 2O16

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Horimer’s Journey

Across the valley, the twisted forest lay before him. Therein lay the only passage through, and if the stories Horimer had heard as a boy were true, there was magic in this forest. And not the good kind where someone finds a coin behind your ear. As he passed the charred branches at the forest's edge, the sun disappeared, and the sky with it. The air grew still and dank with the smell of rotting earth and probably some unicorn feces.

— The New Yorker, March 2O16

The Scariest Story Ever Told

“At the end of a quiet road, behind a veil of twisted black oak trees, there was a house. A woman lived there. On bitter nights like this one, she sat by the fire and read until she grew tired enough for sleep. But on this night, as her lids grew heavy, she was startled by a sound. A sound she wasn’t accustomed to hearing these days. Who could be calling, she wondered? And this late? She rose from her chair and picked up the phone.”

— The New Yorker, October 2O15

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I Miss You

“I miss your face. I miss tracing its contours with my finger while you slept or tried to eat. I miss your little feminine touches around our home—the candles, the food, the toilet paper. Everything reminds me of you, all the things you left behind—your photos, your books, your brother. I really thought he’d move out when you did, but he’s still here. On the couch. Constantly reminding me of you.”

— The New Yorker, October 2O15

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Married Roleplay

THE PLUMBER

HUSBAND: So, what seems to be the problem, Miss?

WIFE: My drain is clogged. Clogged bad.

HUSBAND: Oh, yeah? Well, let me see if I can un-clog it.

WIFE: You really think this is a job you can handle?

HUSBAND: There's no job I can't handle.

WIFE: (scoffs)

HUSBAND: What?

WIFE: I'm just thinking about the porch you've been promising to stain for literally a year now.

— The New Yorker, August 2O15

Playground Purgatory

“Tessa! Tess! Come on over here and put on your coat, O.K., sweetheart? It’s chilly out, and you need to put on your coat, O.K.? Your coat needs to go on your body. The fabric needs to cover your torso to help you maintain a proper internal temperature, or you’ll die, O.K., pumpkin? You’ll die of hypothermia, right here at the playground, unless you put your coat on. Your body’s going to start shutting down soon. It’ll feel like you’re getting sleepy for nap time, but you’ll actually be getting sleepy for dying. Get your God-damned coat on !”

— The New Yorker, May 2O15

* Not-To-Be-Missed Shouts of 2O15

Magic for the Modern Child

“Imaginative play is so important to your child’s social, cognitive and emotional development. The world of make-believe gives children the freedom to be anyone they want to be: a princess with an iPad, a fireman with an iPad, a dragon with an iPad or just a regular old kid with an iPad.”

— The New York Times, May 2O15

Exploring Our Universe

“To understand just how vast the universe is, take a trip to the beach. Imagine that the beach is the universe, and sprinkle a few grains of sand into the palm of your hand. Those grains represent just how little we’ve explored. The rest of the sand and the shells and cigarette butts and broken glass and condoms and syringes and underpants remain mysteries that we may never fully comprehend.”

— The New Yorker, February 2O15

Thanksgiving Food Coma D.N.R.

“Being of sound mind and empty stomach, I voluntarily execute this order with full awareness of its consequences. Thorough consideration has gone into this decision, unlike the decision I will likely make to ingest enough poultry to shut down my body’s non-essential functions, such as speech, movement, and not drooling.”

— The New Yorker, November 2O15

Rightsizing our Workforce

“Rightsizing simply refers to our commitment to optimizing our head count after discovering that we are, in fact, wrong-sized. I want to reassure you that this is very different from downsizing, which is something we haven’t done since before the word "rightsizing" was invented. We’re merely recalibrating our personnel in a way that’s beneficial to our long-term goals, through an approach by which we stop paying lots of you.”

— The New Yorker, November 2O14

Real Foodie

“A big part of being a Foodie is knowing how to get food into your mouth. A non-Foodie would probably just scream out "Fork!" right now and be done with it. Don't get me wrong, I use forks. I love forks. But I also might decide to go with a spoon depending on how liquidy the food is, or chopsticks depending on how Asian-y it is, or hands depending on how banana-y it is.I try to not be one of those Foodies who judges other people for not knowing the things I know, but when I see someone trying to eat a sandwich with a ladle, it's hard.”

— Vice, October 2O14

Corn Maze F.A.Q.

IS IT TRUE THERE ARE WARLORDS IN THE MAZE?
“Boy, are there. Warlords have come into power over the past few seasons and have amassed considerable followings during that time. Perhaps the most notorious of the bunch is the one they call the Crow. He earned his name from the ghastly manner in which he patrols the labyrinth—with a screeching murder of leashed crows clutched in his hand. He is rumored to have an army of two dozen fiercely loyal maze-goers to whom he provides shelter, food, and protection in the maze.”

— The New Yorker, September 2O14

* Not-To-Be-Missed Shouts of 2O14

This New Rap Song Has a Refreshing Perspective on Pussy

“As the song progresses, the listener gains a further understanding that it is not, in fact, pussy that the artist is truly after, but rather a deeper human connection. Pussy, we learn, is merely the conduit to a more fulfilling and substantive relationship for him.”

— McSweeney’s, July 2O14

Your Beach Body

“We regret to inform you that your beach body, slated for arrival in early June of this year, will be delayed, perhaps indefinitely. A number of factors, all under your direct control, have contributed to this unfortunate setback.”

— The New Yorker, May 2O14

The First Civil War Reenactment

“Men! I welcome you all to the town of Appomattox in the state of Virginia. We have gathered at this site for one sole purpose — to express our shared love of history and profound concern for its preservation. The final battle of the Civil War was waged here where we stand. On this hallowed ground, General Robert E. Lee surrendered his Confederate forces to the North, exactly one month ago, today.”

— McSweeney’s, March 2O14

Good Meeting

AMY: Okay. Well, in terms of feedback, my main concern would be making sure that all of our objectives are actionable from a budgetary standpoint. I really dread seeing each of you every day.

MARIA: It’s funny, Amy, I was going to say the same thing, and also add that we want to avoid a situation where we’re allocating valuable resources to the wrong brand pillars. I can’t feel my face when I say things like that.

— The New Yorker, March 2O14

* Hear the Audio Version

Going for Bronze

“I was born with a gift, a gift that I’ve dedicated my life to cultivating, in hopes that one day I might compete at a level that would earn me a spot on the podium—specifically the level of the podium that, of the three, is the third highest.”

— The New Yorker, February 2O14

The Dame

“She fumbled through her Coach knockoff for a pack of Virginia Slims. Something was eating away at this gal; if only I knew what. A smoke ring danced from her kisser, quivering through the air like a life preserver tossed from the trembling hands of a ship’s captain toward the arms of a crew member flailing in the icy waters below. The captain had ignored the Coast Guard’s warnings of nasty squalls that day. Despite ten years sober, a recent visit from an old flame on shore had him drinking again, and no A.A. meeting on earth was going to bail him out of this one.”

— The New Yorker, January 2O14

The Path to Self-Awareness

“You might think you know yourself, but how about the time in that restaurant when you were so sure you wanted the salmon, then spit it right out of your mouth? Or the time you bought that expensive shirt then spit it out of your mouth? That doesn’t sound like someone who knows themselves very well or who understands what’s supposed to go in their mouth.”

— The New Yorker, December 2O13

You Are Now Under Witness Protection

“Naturally, you have questions about embarking on your new life: Will you ever be able to resume your old identity? What happens to your Netflix queue? Unfortunately, both answers probably aren’t what you want to hear. We realize there’s also a decent chance you’re in the midst of a Fruit-of-the-Month Club. As much as we’d like to forward the remaining fruit to you, this is one of the main ways by which witnesses are tracked down and killed. The best we can do is to promise that it’ll get eaten.”

— The New Yorker, August 2O13

I Earn up to $300 a Day Making My Own Jewelry and Being a Prostitute

“If someone told me a few years ago that I’d be able to support myself doing something I love, it would have sounded like some pipe dream that even paid sex with strangers couldn’t fulfill. Boy, was I wrong! I always knew I had a creative spirit burning inside me, but what I didn’t know is that pairing that spirit with a willingness to engage in lucrative high-risk intercourse would put me on the path to a rewarding career.”

— McSweeney’s, March 2O13

By Day I’m an Omelet Chef, But by Night I’m an Omelet Chef at Another Place

“It’s no coincidence I’m a Gemini. The cosmic twins inside me, so restless and impish, craving such disparate adventures, never feel content making omelets at just one place. Living with this duality helps me to understand those struggling with split personalities, although I don’t have the luxury of taking medication like they do because either way I’ll still have jobs at two different omelet places.”

— McSweeney’s, May 2O13

Essential Advice on Your Lengthy Unemployment

“Depending on how long you’ve been unemployed, it’s likely there are people in your life who have trouble understanding why you don’t have a job yet. They want to be supportive, but have lost the ability to empathize with your situation. They may even question how hard you’re looking for a job at this point. You don’t need that kind of negative energy along with everything else you’re dealing with. Try making it clear to them that watching Elmo is a privilege. A privilege that Daddy is more than willing to take away if they keep up the back-talking.”

— The New Yorker, April 2O13

The Science of Daydreams

“Daydreaming serves an incredibly important purpose for those who are incarcerated in prisons or who work at T.G.I. Friday’s. It allows them to escape, so to speak, and imagine a life with better uniforms.”

— The New Yorker, March 2O13

This is the Year

“The more specific you are about your resolution, the better your chance of sticking with it. Don’t just say, ‘I want to lose weight.’ Say, ‘When my arm jiggles, I want it to look less like a pelican’s throat-pouch choking down a bass.’”

— The New Yorker, December 2O12

Haunted Hotel Ghosts Recount Their Most Disturbing Guest Stories

“I was floating outside the window of a guestroom one gloomy eve, attempting unsuccessfully to capture a man’s attention. Moments later, however, he was quite successful in capturing mine. He emerged from a lengthy soak, grasped the opposite corners of a towel through his legs and proceeded to dry his undercarriage in a sawing motion with great fervor and with a thoroughness that seemed wholly gratuitous. ‘Twas ghastly sight, that strangely I struggled to turn away from, not unlike a carriage accident."

— McSweeney’s, October 2O12

The Gift of Laughter

“Physiologically speaking, laughter is an involuntary response, similar to wincing when watching a clown make a balloon animal or an old sea captain eat pudding. It can even be contagious like a yawn or a hilarious virus. You might start laughing just because you hear two strangers laughing, then follow them home because you’ve never been lonelier.”

— The New Yorker, October 2O12

A Step-By-Step Guide to Building a Tiny Fucking Ship Inside a Tiny Fucking Bottle

This guide will teach you everything you need to know, from finding the right bottle with a tiny fucking opening, to making a tiny fucking boat, to jamming the tiny fucking boat into the tiny fucking opening. Before you get started, make sure that you have a clean workspace and that there isn’t a single other fucking thing you’d rather do besides this nautical disaster of a hobby.

— McSweeney’s, August 2O12

An Automated Conference Call Monitor Gets Real

“Your host, of course, will be Tom. Tom Rogers. Tom, who begins all of his PowerPoint presentations with a Garfield comic. Tom, who despite ongoing attempts has yet to use the phrase “Circle the Wagons” properly. Tom, who teaches Judo in the evenings and refers to the office as his Work Dojo.”

— McSweeney’s, July 2O12

The Ultimate Guide to Writing Better Than You Normally Do

“Finding a really good muse these days isn’t easy, so plan on going through quite a few before landing on a winner. Beware of muses who promise unrealistic timelines for your projects or who wear wizard clothes. When honing in on a promising new muse, also be on the lookout for other writers attempting to swoop in and muse-block you. Just be patient in your search, because the right muse/human relationship can last a lifetime.”

— McSweeney’s, April 2O12

James Joyce Orders a Shamrock Shake

“Like the fleeting majesty of a lunar eclipse over the Cliffs of Moher or the long-awaited migratory return of the Shelducks from the North Sea, it is time once again to herald the arrival of Uncle O’Grimacey for his annual tribute to the people of our nation, to ready my weary tastebuds for the frigid, minty mirth they have so dearly missed.”

— McSweeney’s, March 2O12

My Self-Portrait

“If I possess the legs of a horse, as this portrait would indicate, does the horse that I’m riding become redundant? The short answer is yes, I suppose it does. The long answer is that Centaurs, like me, are at the very top of the equine hierarchy and are typically transported by lesser horses. So that’s how that works.”

— McSweeney’s, January 2O11

It’s Naked Time

“You want to see what thirty-five minutes of elliptical machine a month can do to a man’s body? You’re about to. You want to cradle me in your capable arms and tell me everything’s going to be okay? That can also be arranged.”

— McSweeney’s, June 2O1O

We Are The Family In The Photo That Came With Your New Picture Frame

“You may have noticed that I’m carrying Amy on my back. We do that a lot. At least once a day, and not just when we’re in fields like this; we do it on beaches and in urban environments as well. That’s what happens when your love is deep and playful like ours. You should also know that we also dab frosting on each other’s noses every single time we eat cupcakes, which is both mischievous and very us. Do you guys even eat cupcakes?”

— McSweeney’s, May 2O1O

The Twelve Days of Christmas

“On the third and fourth days of Christmas, she gave me three French hens and four calling birds. Funny, I don’t remember telling her my dream was to one day open a chapter of the Audubon Society. Jesus. You know what would have been nice? Some birdseed. I’m out of saltines and things are starting to get weird in here.”

— McSweeney’s, December 2OO9

It’s Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers

“I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to get my hands on some fucking gourds and arrange them in a horn-shaped basket on my dining room table. That shit is going to look so seasonal. I’m about to head up to the attic right now to find that wicker fucker, dust it off, and jam it with an insanely ornate assortment of shellacked vegetables. When my guests come over it’s gonna be like, BLAMMO! Check out my shellacked decorative vegetables, assholes. Guess what season it is — fucking fall. There’s a nip in the air and my house is full of mutant fucking squash.”

— McSweeneys, September 2OO9

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It’s Weird To Think That One Day I’ll Photoshop You Out Of These Vacation Photos

“I feel like you and I are entering such a fun, playful phase of our relationship − I really love getting close to you like this. Speaking of which, you’ve been pressing our faces together in a lot of shots, which is so sweet. The thing is, you have no idea how many more hours of clean-up that generates. Basically I’m recreating the entire contour of one of my cheeks. With skin tones and shadows, it gets really tricky. Trust me, it’ll be just as cute if we stay like an inch apart.”

— McSweeneys, August 2OO9

It Was I Who Flipped Over The Risk Board Last Night

“I hate Risk. I have for many years now. I hate that you still like Risk. I hate that you guilt me into playing with you because no one else will. I hate that you do the accents of the countries you’re attacking from. And I hate that you wear a beret every time we play. God, do I hate the beret.”

— McSweeneys, June 2OO8

Eulogy for a Bearded Bee Guy

“When a life, like Ryan’s, is taken at such a young age, there are many questions left unanswered. Questions like Why was this his time? Or What did he think was eventually going to happen if he kept putting bees all over his face?”

— McSweeneys, July 2OO7