"As a card-carrying MGAP member, you will pee anywhere on the course at any time. It doesn't matter if the Senior Ladies League is playing the adjoining hole or a family of four is barbecuing in their back yard that faces the 14th fairway. We go where we damn well please."

"No one is posting jobs that I'm qualified for, so my resume is a complete work of fiction that highlights my creative writing and improvisational skills."

In this episode of "Do It At Home, America!" we uncover the secret savings of keeping your toilet bowl clean with nothing but common household objects -- 1970s style!

The truth, the awful truth, and nothing but the truth.

Celebrities are very good at love and relationships. Everyone knows their divorce rate is much lower than that of the general population -- something about the bright lights of fame must be conducive to spending year after year with the same loved one.

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Your tastes, your habits, your wants and needs all personify your vehicle, or is it the other way around? We know who you are regardless, without even seeing that face behind the wheel.

So what do we do when this ends? Who do we turn to next? What's our mirror? Do we just get sad that we might not have a show like this anymore?

"Jen's about to get married and finally in a good place and Angelina is clearly trying to overshadow that with the details of her mastectomy," says one source. "It's like she's still trying to rub it in that Brad loves her, even without her boobs."

At one time or another we've all felt the bitch-slap of rejection, I'm no exception. The following are some excerpts from rejection letters I've recently received.

Whenever I am late with a bill I get a statement that says "outstanding" and I mistake that for a compliment.

When did suits and ties become associated with "the hired help?" Should we blame "Casual Friday," that quirky early millennium idea, no doubt created by a flip-flop manufacturer, where employees abandoned traditional business attire?

One hot night in the summer of 2012, I was standing in my bathroom looking at myself in the mirror with roommate. It was three in the morning, he was a little hammered and we were taking inventory on our looks, as gay men do at that hour on a Wednesday night.

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I can't remember who first showed me how to cure hiccups. I know it was late in life, sometime in my late thirties. The cure came too late to help me. But, ever since then I have been enormously grateful.