Checking your email can be a mixed bag of emotions.

For example, do you hold your breath when your work emails load up, nervous that you EFFED up on something?

(This is a real fear for journalists; no one emails when they are happy with something you wrote.)

On the other hand, when waiting for someone to write you back, are you regularly disappointed when you see zero emails, zip, NADA in your inbox?

Email is a gamble!

But nothing could prepare my friend Zoey for the email she got from an unknown address.

Subject line: “Richard Weld”

Richard Weld was a doctor (supposedly) that Zoey had met online the week before, who she had spent a steamy night with at his hotel room while he was in town for a conference.

They had a ton of fun and had been sending flirty text messages and emails to each other ever since.

Zoey opened the email:

“Please tell me if anything happened between you and my husband Richard while he was in New Orleans. He says nothing did, but I have seen your pictures on his phone and I am not sure if I can believe him.”




Obviously, Richard had never mentioned a wife and didn’t wear a ring.

Zoey was devastated. She was a recent divorcee whose marriage had ended due to infidelity. She DEFINITELY mentioned that fact to Richard.

Now he made her the other woman!?!?!?


While Zoey was struggling to catch her breath from this shock, she got an email from Richard, less than five minutes later.

“Please don’t tell my wife. I’m so sorry, but please please do not tell her.”





Zoey did what any 30-something woman would do: She decided to do nothing until she went to see her therapist.


But then, an hour later, her email dinged again.

Another email, from the wife again.

“Richard told me everything and we are going to work things out. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I won’t contact you again and ask you not to contact me either, and please stop corresponding with my husband. Thanks and best wishes.”



Zoey was relieved that it appeared to be the end of this drama.

She blocked Richard from both her phone and email immediately.

But she felt bad for the wife and wanted to apologize all the same. She wrote:

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Please know that I truly had no indication that he was married and I never intended to hurt you. I promise I will never contact him again, and I really hope you two can work it out. I just went through a divorce, and I know how painful it can be. I wish you both all the best.”

She hit send and decided to buy an industrial-sized bottle of wine on the way home from work.

That surely was the end of it, right??



About an hour later, Zoey got ANOTHER email from the wife:

“This is very strange as I didn’t send the previous email. It was Richard from my account. Please just tell me the truth and I will not bother you again.”



Yes, as if it wasn’t possible for Richard to be even more pathetic, he sent Zoey an email pretending to be his wife.

Writing, ‘Richard told me everything’ (LOL)

adding, ‘please stop corresponding with my husband.’ (LOL)


An in-person liar AND and email liar!!!!

Send this to the spam folder!!!

Zoey logged off immediately.

More wine needed.


TOOLBAG TUESDAY! Ring the alarm

Have you ever witnessed a child misbehave and a parent snatches away their favorite toy as punishment?

That’s what Rob did to my friend Kate.

Only it wasn’t a toy.

It was an engagement ring.


Most women are excited about being presented with an engagement ring from their long-time boyfriends, especially ones they had already discussed marriage with, and who they had been dating for years.

But this was not the case with the tragic story of Kate and her 30th birthday party.

Kate, who was in a four-year relationship with this guy Rob, was naturally hoping it would be her 30th birthday party/engagement party.

She and Rob had been dating forever….28 years (in dog years LOL), they had moved in together, talked about being together forever, and Kate thought she had planted enough seeds about really wanting to get engaged that this momentous occasion was imminent.

Her 30th birthday was perfect, was it not?

Kicking off another decade of life with a big, blingy ring???

Rob didn’t see it that way. Her 30th birthday came and went. His got her something generic, like an AppleWatch.

So Kate did what any frustrated 30-year-old girl would do after spending four years with someone and getting hopes about a proposal shattered on her birthday: she threw a fit.

“DO YOU EVEN WANT TO BE WITH ME?” she yelled, possibly drunk. “WHAT ARE WE EVEN DOING HERE??”

They had talked many times about being engaged, they had even talked about rings, but with each passing month, she became more and more frustrated.

Her birthday was the biggest fit she had thrown to date.

Rob decided that HE had enough.

He broke up with her.

Because of her “fit” about the engagement.


Clearly they weren’t a match and wanted different things. She wanted to get married, he didn’t. Kate tried to reason about it immediately following the breakup.

But then Rob decided to play a sick game.

The DAY AFTER HE BROKE UP WITH HER, he returned to their apartment and showed Kate a box.

A little velvety black box. He opened it and showed her the ring.

She took a breath.

Was he changing his mind about their breakup???



“I just wanted to let you know that I already bought an engagement ring, but now you’re not getting it because you threw such a fit,” he said.







“If you only behaved properly….”




Who watches as the supposed love of their life has a mental breakdown about not being engaged, still doesn’t propose despite having an engagement ring in hand, breaks up with them and then dangles the ring in front of their face like a parent taking away a child’s toy???

A Psycho!

A psycho on a power trip!

“Ring” the alarm – Kate dodged a major bullet with this one.


And give him no refund on the ring.


TOOLBAG TUESDAY…15 words or less

All the hope and wonder and excitement of a first date can be ruined by several sentences:

Do you think the waitress would want to go out with me? (Read more)

I have a job interview, can I use your urine? (Read more)

I once dated my girlfriend’s stepmom. (Read more)

These are all true stories.

I learned about one more gem this past weekend.

My friend, Julia, said it was the worst first date she had ever been on, ever. His name was Joel, he was 35, and they met online.

Joel was seemingly normal (they always seemingly are) over Bumble messages and texts on a real phone. He was in accounting and appeared to have it together. She agreed to meet him at this trendy tapas place that weekend.

She was already nervous. It was her first date following a very long relationship.

Her first time getting out there, meeting someone new, all the feelings of anticipation: Will he look like his picture? Will he pay for the bill and not be annoying about it? Will they kiss at the end of the night?

It turns out, Joel also had questions.

Well, just one.



“So…am I going to have sex later?” he asked.



Julia assured me that Joel wasn’t joking.

It was especially grotesque because it was her first date in a very long time and she hadn’t even entertained the possibility of anything other than a goodnight kiss. MAYBE.

Despite being mortified, she managed an amazing response: “Not unless you have another date later,” she said.

Julia said they just kind of sat there awkwardly in silence in the high-top table by the bar.
“I’m going to take off,” Julia said and got up.
Joel didn’t try and stop her, didn’t say anything else.

Fifteen words total and the date was over!!

Just her luck to get this guy after a decade of being in a relationship!

Why couldn’t he have just been a guy who looked nothing like his picture?

Why couldn’t he have asked her for her urine?

TOOLBAG TUESDAY! Being honest about being a sh*tbag on Tinder

It’s hard to write in your Tinder profile that you once shit in your ex’s kitchen in an act of revenge.

I mean, how would you write that?

“I’ll shit in your kitchen cuz I got an ass that won’t quit! Hope to meet ya!”

No one wants to list something so embarrassing…or do they?


This guy Paul, a KNOWN SHITTER (Not a joke, click here for last week’s TT episode), he decided that a picture speaks a thousand words about his dating style.

(RECAP: Paul pulled his pants down and took a shit on the kitchen floor of a girl he was dating when she went away for a weekend with another guy. She found it days later, crusted.)

(Also, FUN FACT: He used her spare key without asking and broke in to do this.)

That guy!




Is this real life??

……….PLEASE CLEAN IT UP!?!?!?!?!!!



Jesus Christ.

The moment when a guy is honest on Tinder!


I don’t know which is worse, that he thinks it’s a hilarious joke or that maybe he’s proud of violating someone’s space and nostrils?

Tip for the ladies: Read the signs.

Swipe left.





Everyone knows dogs mark their territory but let’s break down how ANNOYING it is to everyone but them.

It’s actually a really selfish move when you think about it: This is MY spot! See how I urinated on it to make sure it’s stinky and gross to everyone else?


These dogs are everywhere.

But check out this version: One day a dog marked his territory but by dog I mean this guy Paul my friend Margie was dating.

…And by “marked his territory” I mean…

Well, let’s just say she WISHES Paul had peed on his favorite spot on a fence.

(This is going to get messy.)

Paul and Margie began dating around Halloween last year and he got jealous that Margie was dating other people.

He tried barking at her, but that didn’t work.

He tried begging, but that didn’t work.

So Paul decided that right around Christmas time, he would leave her a thoughtful gift that only a dog would think of.

Not a joke, Paul became so angry that Margie went away for a weekend with another guy and didn’t return his calls and texts that he used her spare key to get into her house.

And he…






BAD DOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Margie came home to her house and saw evidence that Paul had been there WITHOUT PERMISSION. He clearly got quite comfortable (lol) – his T-shirt left on the couch, cabinet doors left open, which he did all the time.

And then she saw it.

In the middle of the kitchen.

A pile of dried, crusty shit.


Was he marking his territory???

Because I can guarantee that if the other guy she was dating had come inside and saw human shit on the floor, he definitely would have run for the hills.

Thankfully, Margie was alone.

She shrieked when she saw it and ran out of the room.

Then she peeked again.

She truly didn’t believe it.

Did someone she had actually dated and used to make out with really break into her house and shit on her floor?

No, this must have been some sort of freak rodent family.

A stray dog, perhaps.

There’s no way a human would do this.

She sent a simple text message to Paul.


She waited to see what he would say.

Did Paul feign ignorance?

Did he assume she must have been talking about his many unanswered texts?


His response?


A POOP EMOJI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



Did he think this was a joke?


Lock him in a kennel.


TOOLBAG TUESDAY!! The least sexiest hair-pulling in a relationship

Have you dated a frustrating guy?

Are you surprised that you still have hair on your head from all the pulling out this person made you do?

There are a hundred million ways someone can frustrate you (on days that end in Y, anyway, LOL) but the worst of the worst—the one everyone can agree upon is when someone F*CKS up and can’t admit to it.

Or, to be fair:

When someone perceives things so incorrectly about something they did—even though that thing is universally agreed upon as being wrong—and can’t admit to it.

Meet Barry.

Barry is this guy my friend Betty went out with, and yes, we are surprised Betty still has her hair.

Barry and Betty met at a bar near her house in early November and he was immediately interested in her.

He wined her, he dined her, he made her breakfast.

…and then he ghosted her for three weeks.

Ghosted! Disappeared!

The last thing he told her is that he’d see her in a couple of hours at her apartment after taking a nap.

Then NOTHING for three weeks.


It wasn’t some “maybe I’ll see you this weekend” or anything. It was a specific time in the near future that she was to expect him.

After it wasn’t reported that he died in a fiery crash, AND HIS SNAPCHAT ACCOUNT WAS BEING USED, EVEN THOUGH HE HADN’T RETURNED HER MANY PHONE CALLS, Betty accepted that she got dumped.

But three weeks later, Barry resurfaced.

At 4 a.m.

His claim? He “lost” his phone, Snapchat and all.

And didn’t have her number or any way to get in touch with her on any of her many social media accounts.


And…well…the frustrating part was that he was sort of expecting HER to come find HIM and he’s disappointed about it.



This guy is serious.

He disappears for 3 weeks and then tells her that she didn’t make an effort to scour the Earth to find him!

And texts this at 4 a.m.!!!!


Hilariously frustrating!


This goes on and on, with him pretending like he did nothing wrong, like he’s a victim of having no phone.

And then he really goes overboard:



Oh Jesus Christ!

In addition to suggesting that his “ghosting” should have prompted a missing person’s report, the most obvious frustrating point was…shouldn’t he be apologizing???

What was his excuse for not facebooking her, snapchating her, Instagraming her…googling her?

And who “loses” a phone for three weeks? Was it under the bed?


Betty was the forgiving type and after about ten messages back and forth with exact directions to her house, her email address (LOL no seriously) and more, Barry said he’d DEFINITELY be over that night.

…And disappeared.

Betty didn’t even bother to text, asking what was going on.

Two days later, he reached out…at 2 a.m.


And again, it was her problem. (With a grammar check ED note)





“I am not kissing your ass!”


I want to pull my own hair out.



Here’s a story about my friend Emily, who came home from work one day to find a single, raggedy shoe on her doorstep filled with crumpled up cash.

You’d think this would be an amazing surprise, some fairy godmother from Foot Locker, perhaps.

But no. The discovery was immediately followed by a text from her ex-boyfriend:

“The money is in a shoe on your porch and fuck you!”



Reading an angry text that starts with, “THE MONEY IS IN A SHOE ON YOUR PORCH” is Toolbag gold.

But let’s start from the beginning.

Emily and Peter had been dating for almost a year.

Peter (Pan), was a perpetual couch hopper and had moved into Emily’s house with dreams of opening his own record store.



(Ed note: He’d be better off buying a Foot Locker.)

But with the promise of millennials flocking to vintage anything, he made a convincing argument.

There was an old shack nearby for rent and Peter said could sell his current collection of vinyls and all he needed was $3,000 for start-up costs.


Emily had a good job and had the money. She believed in him and against the better judgment of everyone she asked, she decided to give Peter the loan.

But she didn’t just outright give him her cold, hard cash; she did what any responsible professional would do: She wrote out a contract and they both signed it.

There are few things in life that are as black-and-white as a WRITTEN CONTRACT WITH TERMS AND CONDITIONS.

The terms: He’d repay her the $3,000 within two years, plus $1,000 in interest.

Those rates really kill you!


These were the terms that Peter and Emily both signed and to make it official, they even went to a notary (who I’m sure was shaking her head the whole time.)

No matter! Emily felt accomplished and empowered to be able to help her boyfriend as an investor in what could be a successful business.

But soon after she transferred Peter the money, he broke up with her and moved out of her house, claiming he didn’t want to be “a burden.”


I don’t want to be a burden, but I’ll take your $3K and run!!!

Peter moved into the shack that was to be his super successful record business.

Six months later, Emily got a text from Peter saying that things were going GREAT but that he didn’t think it was “fair” to have to pay interest on the loan.



Emily recalls, “I asked if he’s trying to renegotiate and told him ‘tough shit’ and to follow the contract already signed.”


Peter pitched a fit about the contract—you know, THE ONE THAT HE SIGNED—still crying about the $1,000 interest he agreed to.

He insisted that he had the original $3,000 to give back (which was actually quite shocking) but didn’t want to have to pay extra.

“Tough shit,” Emily repeated.

And that’s what brought her to her doorstep that day.

The day Peter the genius thinks it’s appropriate and professional to repay a $3,000 loan plus interest in cash, stuffed in an empty shoe left on a front porch.

(Jesus, how big was this shoe???)

As if the story couldn’t get any more hilarious, Emily noted that the original $3,000 was in crisp $100 bills at the bottom of the shoe.

But, the “interest?”

The $1,000 interest was a deliberately dirty, crumply, mess of $20s and $5 bills.


(Must have been a clown shoe.)

I think it’s very big of her to confirm she even received the money in the shoe.

Especially after, “The money is in a shoe on your porch and fuck you!” text.


Right. F HER.

The one who gave him a loan, only to get dumped the next day.

Definitely a clown shoe.