I don’t know if it’s easier or more difficult to fake being a doctor nowadays … I’m asking for a friend, of course.

If you’re a well-versed student of psychology or even a casual observer of the practice, you're aware that the brain is one messed-up organ, clinically speaking.

There are many unanswerable questions that have plagued mankind for centuries and by “centuries”, I mean a few hundred years.

I felt bad that I didn’t have an Easter column to run on Easter Sunday this year, but the well was running dry.

For the briefest moment in my life in my early 20s, I felt like a genius.

As if there are not enough reminders in our daily lives that we’re getting older, I think the biggest one may be the most depressing one, and that’s music on the radio.

One of my literature classes in college included of a study of fables, which are small, simple morality tales with animals often acting out metaphors of human behavior.

It’s funny when you hear two different things – totally separate from one another – and you make a connection that seems crazy at the moment, but eventually makes sense.

I spent nearly an hour the other morning trying to convince myself that I wasn’t a child actor who fell too early from grace and the stress from that caused dissociative amnesia so the whole thing was wiped from my mind.

I recently heard that looking at the gas prices at the pump has caused many people to suffer “sticker shock”, which, to be fair, is an inaccurate assessment.

I tell people that I was once a Boy Scout, but I quit because I wasn't prepared, which of course is the opposite of their motto "Always Be Prepared".

There are points in a person’s life where they have to stop what they’re doing and perform a self-assessment of their current situation.

During one of my regular trips to a certain fast food drive-thru to engage in death by super sizing, something caught my eye: they’re allowing customers to hack their menu.

Whenever you’re introducing a new pet into the family, a process takes place–a ritual, if you will.

Following the death of my father three years ago, I dedicated a column to him. So, with my mom passing away two weeks ago, I wanted to do the same for her. However, I couldn't find a column on standby that I could use, so I decided to rework my eulogy to her into a column.

Bruce Springsteen once said--well, sang, actually--”you can’t start a fire without a spark” and then he talked and talked and talked.

I hope you’re not reading this week’s column through the hazy, thudding head of a New Year's Day hangover. If you are, then I hope you can live with your horrible, alcohol-induced decisions made during New Year’s Eve.

Just when you thought it was safe to express what your favorite Christmas movie is, someone has to come and ruin it for you.

You know, Christmas time really does bring out the best in people.

Well, what I really mean is everyone is looking for "The Best". They always want the best tree, the best gift, the best Christmas-spirited punch and then the best hangover cure the next morning.

I was originally going to classify a phenomenon that I recently identified as something of a Christmas miracle; however, like Christmas miracles, I found it to really be commonplace-–something that everyone experiences and ignores, and they move on with their lives.

Because all my news about Texas comes from Australian media, The West Australian shared a story that a bar in Texas had posted a sign on their jukebox that reads…

PMI is my research and analysis of the hottest toys of the holiday season. Those toys are then assigned a rating on my proprietary PMI scale from 1 to 10 based on how miserable the toy will make an unsuspecting parent.

It never dawned on me the awe-inspiring notion of the dollar stores until I was trying to find straws inside of one.

Yeah, I know it’s not even Thanksgiving yet, and I’m writing about what’s mostly a Christmas-themed subject, but everyone else seems to be doing it, and I caved under peer pressure.

It’s not often that I get appalled by a box of cereal, but then again, I originally thought pulling someone’s finger was a legitimate digestive aid, but then I turned 40 and recognized it for the childish act it is.

I was recently going through some old childhood photos, trying to pinpoint the exact date where everything started to go wrong. Right now, it can be either 1998 or 1999, so I can stop blaming Y2K now.

I always say I do my best thinking when I’m either sitting on the toilet or driving around; if I can figure out a way to do both at the same time, I’d truly be unstoppable.

I’ve been really wanting to take advantage of purchasing groceries online for pickup and delivery, but that “family” of mine insists that we grocery shop at the store so I can “get some air”, so I can “stop practicing to be a hermit” and so I can “relearn social interaction”.

Today's column examines the phenomenon of dancing--what it is, its origins and, frankly, why I hate it.

There’s a lot to be said about political correctness and the euphemisms it spawns, but some instances of political correctness have turned into a waste of time ... literally.