An AskReddit thread prompted sperm donors to share the kind of porn they were provided at the sperm bank, but it ended up getting a lot more detailed than that. People couldn't help spilling all sorts of wet, sticky details about the process of getting strangers pregnant—and it turns out the conditions at your local sperm bank aren't as luxurious as you might hope.

1. Kindiana explains the type of creature comforts you can expect when you get there.

I went about 10 years ago to get my count checked, I was 19 and having nut pain. They didn't even give me a room, they gave me a cup and sent me to the restroom....a public restroom. I couldn't afford a cool phone at that time so phone porn wasn't an option. I couldn't get it up, no matter how many shits people were taking.

(We're pretty sure that last bit was a joke.)

2. Displacedyoop found himself racing against the clock.

3. This was is worth it for the sign. Commenters said D-Rex475 should have stolen it.

4. Ifelloffmydinosaur is using his experience as a way to teach his kid about sex.

5. When you're done, just remember, you're being judged on your timing.

6. Sneekysnakes hopes the receptionist likes him, but she was probably just doing her job.

7. This tale from androlyn is oddly the theme of the thread.

8. And after reading yayforcookies's experience—how about some soundproof bathrooms?

9. At least Pedrosneakyman may have gotten a part-time job out of it.

Michael Scott—he's more than just a character from The Office. His essence is a lifestyle, unintentionally emulated by authorities in offices across the world. If you know a Michael Scott that outranks you, your best hope is to become his Dwight Schrute.

These anecdotes from people on Reddit about their very own Michael Scotts are hilarious. Plus, they're the perfect opportunity to use all these gifs that have been lying around the Someecards office for the past few months.

1. Fartjarrington knows the harmless version of Michael Scott.

2. TheMcRibIsALie demonstrates the more sinister side of Mr. Scott.

3. This boss of RainmanEOD seems almost too mean to be Michael Scott, but counts it anyway.

My boss once gave me a certificate that a teacher would give a child in grade school with a rainbow on it that said congratulations. He even went out and bought crayons just so he could write "for not fucking up for one week" in why block on the bottom of the certificate in green crayon. That bitch was pinned to the wall above my computer till I went to my next base.

4. Now here's a true Michael Scott. Cletus_Jorobado should have written for the show.

5. GsoSmooth thinks she's got the clumsiest Michael Scott around, but commenters think he's on drugs.

6. This is why you don't want to be the Pam, à la kisboring.

7. SulliedVoice saw the perks of being Michael Scott up close. The perks are cake.

8. Ah, but how could you forget the sad Michael Scott? From timeforknowledge.

9. Myaccount2202 fancies himself a real Jim.

John Cena released this public service announcement through the Ad Council today, and you may find yourself blaming all that July 4th barbecue smoke for the patriotic tear you'll be shedding. It's the most stirring appeal to our better angels by a musclebound hero since 1949 Superman taught kids about what it means to be American.

Cena may be a massive guy who hits people with metal chairs for a living, but he's also well-known for being a total mensch; among other things, he holds the all-time record for wishes granted at the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Take a walk with him down this beautiful typical American Main Street, and by the end he'll have you wanting to hug your fellow citizen hard enough that they might have to tap out.

Sorry if you don't like that idea of what it means to be American. I suggest you take it up with Mr. Cena.

Sometimes, you just need to stare at something mesmerizing, but humanity probably won't have a real Hypnotoad TV channel for at least 8,000 years. In the meantime, enjoy this timelapse created by Redditor mightyleemon, who posted it with the note "I tore a muscle and documented the life cycle of the bruise..."

An alternate title for this piece would be: "A salute to small parts of different pairs of athletic shorts."

And again.

For years, taxicab confessions were such a well-known phenomenon that they even got their own show on HBO in the 90s, but now it's the 2010s—and that means people are using their phones to summon drivers right to their house so they can drunkenly reveal their darkest secrets. When someone on reddit asked Uber drivers to spill the beans on what passengers let slip on rides (besides the contents of what they drank at the bar), it was like they'd just been waiting to be asked. Thousands of responses came forth, but here are 10 of the best:

1. User YetiPie kicks things off with the classic tale of a backseat romance with more than meets the eye.

I picked up this young overly affectionate couple that spent the entire trip making out in my backseat and telling each other that they loved each other. Cute.
So I drop off the couple and head on my way to pick up my text fare. I hear a cellphone ring in my backseat, realize it's my previous ride's, and pick up the phone to let them know I have it and I'll come back to drop it off. Turns out it was the guys wife phoning to check in on him while he was on a business trip, which he was thoroughly enjoying with his mistress

YetiPie continued when someone asked him if the guy gave him a good rating.

Yeah, 5 stars and a tip. When I was going to drop off the phone I had planned to say, in front of him and his mistress: "your wife sounds like a lovely person." I approached him with the phone and he handed me a 100. I was completely caught off guard so I thanked him and left...My plan totally fizzled

2. User cayhawt brings us one tale of bedroom adventures coming to a close, and another adventure that hasn't yet begun.

1. Two girls taking about how they fucked the same guy. Both agreed his dick was too big and he was hurting them by lasting too long, both concluded he was gay.

2. Two middle aged couples trying to agree to a foursome.

3. Less fun is the creepy passenger of asudan30, who quit Uber that night.

Drove UBER one night... it was pretty tame until I picked up two guys who wanted to go to a strip club 40 miles away. As they requested an UberSelect fare I was happy to drive that far. ($80-100) It took them 15 minutes to get ready and into the car and they seemed cool so I wasn't worried.

As soon as we got on the freeway the guy in the passenger seat started asking about UBER driving and things got dark. After a few minutes he started saying shit like "what would you do if someone just grabbed the steering wheel and ran the car into the median" and "have you ever thought about what would happen if someone in the back seat tried to strangle you while you were driving?" I got a little freaked out and tried to lighten the mood by asking what they were celebrating, etc, but the one guy just kept at it.

I was happy to get to the strip club and get them the hell out of the car. Bonus was the bouncer at the club gave me $40 for dropping them off there. I never drove UBER again. Fuck that.

4. Here's a tale from hey---'s buddy with an unexpected twist, and also a reminder not to be a jerk to your friend when they don't want to drink (especially on their birthday).

Happened to a friend of mine - He picked up these two girls, lets say Ashley and Emily, who were each other's best friends going out to celebrate Emily's birthday. They were supposed to be going out downtown, but once they were both in the car Emily said was not in the mood and wanted to go back home. Ashley was pissed because she was trying to do something nice for her best friend etc and the two were in a screaming match in my friends car. He ended up dropping off Ashley first and on the way home Emily explained to him that she didn't want to go out because she is pregnant and Ashley doesn't know.

5. jesseholm teaches us not to judge a book by its cover even when that book is making out with a girl like it's going out of style.

Took this 19 year old kids and what I assumed was his gf back to her house on pride weekend in SF. They made out the whole ride. When I dropped them off, only she got out. He said "Take me to Castro and 18th." I said "Really?" and he said "Yeah, I only make out with girls when I'm rolling." Never a dull moment in San Francisco.

(The Castro is a famously gay part of San Francisco. "Rolling" is the term for being high on MDMA.)

6. Just as a heads up, westport76's story will straight-up break your heart. It's ok if you pass this one.

Former Uber driver here. Picked a girl up a sweet girl from a bar on a Wednesday night - absolutely hammered, about 10pm. She got into my car, apologized for being so drunk and politely asked if we could just drive around a little while, with the windows down.

I was prepping for a cleaning fee, trying to drive and pull a vomit bag out of the glove box, but no, she just did that airplane thing with one hand out the backseat window. She asked me if I had ever thought about dying, to which I replied, yeah - I guess so.

That's when she told me that she had cancer. It was in her brain and it was too far gone to consider chemo. I remember my heart just pounding. She told me she was dying and she was going to be okay. Tonight she was celebrating with her work friends who threw her a going-away party. She told them she was taking a position abroad.

"I just didn't tell them that abroad was heaven."

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I turned off my app and cried my ass all the way home.

7. Since there's actually a lot of sadness in these tales (people generally share happy secrets with friends, sad ones with strangers), here's a story from an Uber passenger, dewayneestes, involving Saddam Hussein's son to lighten the mood.

I know this is the opposite of what you asked because I'm a passenger not a driver.

I had an Iraqi driver tell me he was an engineer in Iraq before the first gulf war and he'd developed a superior means of gilding furniture, chandeliers etc which you can imagine was hot in prewar Hussein-ville. Well Uday wanted to go into business with him but (and this is a direct quote) "First Uday wants to be your partner in business, then he wants to be partner in your wife."

Words to live by.

8. Just a reminder to anyone out there that it's 2016 and you don't have to stay in the closet for so long that you become a Netflix show starring Martin Sheen, Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin. Thanks, Don2070.

Picked up 2 dudes. They were talking about how they were going to keep hiding their relationship from their wives and children. Pretty messed up stuff.

9. Doesn't anyone just go out and have a good time anymore? Fortunately, evannnn67 can confirm that they do.

Never overheard a juicy secret, but plenty of interesting pax.

One time I had a group of 3 guys, probably around my age (mid 20s). They seemed nervous, avoided eye contact, and were pretty much silent from the moment they hopped in. I tried confirming the destination, asked how their night was going, etc, but only got muffled mumbling in return.

As always, I worked the situation out in my head in a calm, rational manner. Something like, "Are these guys trying to rob me? Jack my car? Did they just kill somebody? Am I an accessory to murder? Do they have knowledge of the impending apocalypse?"

But as my paranoia routine winded down, I slowly started to realize what was going on. Between the beads of sweat, occasional jaw clenching, and finally - random giggle outbursts... these kids were tripping fucking balls.

Once it hit me I called them out immediately and told them I was cool. They looked so relieved. I started blasting music (some Umphrey's McGee I do believe) and they just started geeking out by that point. Fun ride.

At the end of the ride, the guy that sat up front tossed me a bag of shrooms. Good times.

10. Please just tell the people you love you love them and stop putting all the burden of making decisions on Uber drivers. clever_username7 would appreciate it very much.

One time I was driving a dude for a bit of a long trip. Was gonna take around 25-30 minutes. He wasn't hammered, but definitely a bit drunk. It was late and he must've been feeling a bit down, so he confided in me and asked me for some advice.

He told me he's madly in love with his fiancé's best friend and he couldn't back out now. He'd been with this girl 4 years, and engaged for 1, ready to be married in a few months.

It was pretty sad to hear, because it wasn't just your average story. It was filled with a lot of subtle emotional and mental anguish. The guy went through about 5 years of ups and downs with his girl, and found an innocent friend and comfort in the best friend. After a few years, he developed feelings and it was just downhill from there.

Felt bad for the guy because he seemed like he was truly in love with his fiancé too, although he had strong feelings for this friend. He knew that going through with the marriage meant a lifetime of being around the friend and suppressing feelings, but also breaking it off meant that he lost the girl of his dreams. Seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and I hope he's doing okay.

Soon-to-be Karadashian Blac Chyna is pregnant with her second child, and her three-year-old son, King Cairo, is already shaping up to be a great big brother. As you all know, King is the son of Chyna and her fiance's sister's on-again boyfriend, Tyga. Now Chyna's welcoming a second child into this weird incestuous family, and the father's Rob Kardashian, former socks salesman and current and forever male Kardashian.

If you can see beyond that colossal engagement ring, Chyna put up a video of herself lovingly stroking her baby bump, and King followed suit. You know this new baby is a Kardashian because it's internet-famous in utero.

If this new baby is going to be anything like King, it will be infuriatingly adorable.

Also, here's Rob getting up close and personal with the baby bump. It's not as cute.

Get excited for more Kardashians to keep up with.

Fourth of July is over (you did it, America!) but the question on everyone's mind is, how did Taylor Swift and her #girl #sqaud #crew spend Independence Day (#holidaygoals)? And was her new boyfriend/arm candy/publicity stunt Tom Hiddleston with her?

Well, according to Instagram and Us Weekly, Swift celebrating by having a party at her Rhode Island home, enjoying fireworks while dressed patriotically in red, white, and blue. She posted just one page torn from an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog Instagram posing with friends including: Gigi Hadid, Blake Lively, Cara Delevingne, Ruby Rose, and Uzo Aduba.

Apparently, Hiddleston wasn't allowed in the picture (probably because he's British and male), but he was definitely with her and her friends at the beach during the day, wearing an I Heart T. Swift tank top and a fake heart tattoo with her initials on his arm. Are you struggling underneath the weight of all those definitely-not-just-for-show public declarations of adoration? Well, get up and get back to work. Holiday's over, people.

A clever Game of Thrones fan theory suggests that the character Varys has been the most skilled manipulator all along. Varys goes by many names: the eunuch, the Master of Whisperers, and the Spider. He has always been known to pull strings by leveraging the power of information acquired from his "little birds." But this new analysis reveals that his plans for the realm may be much deeper than previously known. Warning: spoilers for the entire series lie ahead.

Reddit user gmnitsua took a look back at all of Varys' associations and plans, and thinks that he may have specifically planned for the rise of Daenerys​. Most interestingly, he worked with Illyrio Mopatis to both marry Daenerys to Khal Drogo and ensure she received dragon eggs as a wedding gift. Those are, of course, the two major events that put her on track for her ultimate rise.

The analysis then takes a look at his friendship with Tyrion. When Tyrion stood trial for the assassination of Joffrey, Varys testified against him. While that may have appeared to be a measure of self-preservation, the theory suggests he wanted Tyrion to get locked up so he could plan for his escape with Jaime. Gmnitsua writes:

And why? He wanted to give him to Daenerys. He conspired with Jaime to free him. He organized his passage to Daenerys. And he got abducted by whom? Jorah Mormont. A person who conspired with Varys from the very beginning. Deliberate or no? Definitely convenient. I don't think anything accidentally happens to Varys. It's all part of the Spider's web.

Varys realized that Tyrion was actually so talented at governing in Westeros that he wanted him to find his way to Daenerys. How's that for planning?

Varys knew that Tyrion could greatly help a proper ruler in Westeros (not useless kings like the Lannisters). And Varys knows that Daenerys can be the true Targaryen to rule them all. If those were his intentional plans, they're working spectacularly. The spider's web is long.

John Krasinski celebrated the Fourth of July by announcing that his wife Emily Blunt gave birth to their second child two weeks ago. And her name is (you already know it) Violet. Because of course it's Violet! That's the most John Krasinski and Emily Blunt baby name that ever existed.

It's not as precocious as, say, Paprika or Brooklyn, and not quite as old-fashioned as Mabel or Ernestine, but it assures that their child will fit in with all the other kids at school named after spices and great-grandmothers. And with their other daughter, Hazel Grace. It's perfect.

The list of names for any future girls, should there be any, could include: Hester, London, Paisley, Jaxlyn, Cormackette, and Rubella. Boys should all be named Thor.

When 17-year-old Kinsey's parents asked her about her sexuality, she decided to be open with them and tell them she's gay. The New Jersey teen's parents were accepting, which is cool, but even cooler is what they did next.

Last weekend, they told Kinsey they were holding an early July 4th party. They sent her to the mall with a cousin, but when she got home, they surprised her with a rainbow-themed pride party, complete with rainbow foods and decor.

Even more impressive, they're supportive of her being vegan.

Wow, this family really deserve some accolades.

It didn't take long before Kinsey's tweet went viral. Maybe the world needed a little positivity in light of recent violence toward the LGBT community. Maybe it was just that this cake looked so damn good.

Mostly, Kinsey's thrilled that sharing her positive story has encouraged others to share their coming out stories and even to feel more ready to come out themselves.

And all it took was one little rainbow cake. That actually looks kind of hard to make, but was definitely worth it.

Malia Obama and America share a birthday, so the White House's super cool Fourth of July party sort of doubled as her 18th birthday party this year. The guests of the event got to enjoy the vocal stylings of Kendrick Lamar and Janelle Monáe, and then embarrassing dad Barack Obama grabbed the mic to treat the audience to a clunky version of "Happy Birthday" in honor of his oldest daughter. Daaaaaaaaad not in front of Kendrick Lamar and CBSN!! God.

Fortunately, cool teen Malia didn't seem to mind her dad's impromptu serenade, as she jumped up on stage and hugged him at the end.

It's not like her dad pulled out any embarrassing dance moves like this.

On July 3, The New York Post's Page Six gossip column ran an item about former Sports Illustrated swimsuit model Christie Brinkley, who apparently turned her garden hose on a woman named Erica Remkus who was about to relieve herself in front of the Brinkley's Sag Harbor Cove beachfront property. Clearly Brinkley really is not a fan of people peeing near her home, even outside, even in the sand.

According to Remkus, Brinkley yelled: "What are you doing?! You can’t pee in front of my house! You have to go away. You’re standing on my rocks. You can’t pee on my rocks. I walk there!"

To which Remkus, a 36-year-old hairdresser, responded: "These are not your rocks. This is not your beach. The beach is public property. You don’t own it." Remkus told Page Six she hadn't actually peed yet, but at that point, Brinkley sprayed her with her garden hose, and she felt she had to return the favor. Remkus said "I would not have peed if she didn’t spray me. After that, I kind of had to."

Brinkley called the cops, who showed up, but declined to cite Remkus, since they hadn't actually seen her urinate.

On Monday, Brinkley responded to the incident on Facebook:

Her post reads:

I know it's Independence Day but that does not mean "free to pee" in front of my guests and me at my fireworks gathering. Maybe the trespasser should celebrate "Depends Day" as she apparently thinks she lives in "The Land of the Pee", and I I was forced to hose down her mess after she urinated in my yard all the while throwing things at me.

My wish for everyone on this Fourth of July is.l..May you live in the Land of the Free from belligerent drunken stalkers with weak bladders and foul mouths. (that's not too much to ask right ?) Peace! I'll raise my glass of Bellissima Prosecco to that...Cheers Happy 4th to everyone!

The whole thing makes Brinkley sound a little high-maintenance, but then again, people peeing in public in front of you is not classy. Unlike Brinkley's post full of urine jokes, which is probably the funniest Fourth of July post you'll see all week. .

Nothing relaxes me more these days than discussing my debilitating mental illness. I'll gladly talk to friends, family, and complete strangers about it because I need the sympathy, the relief, the catharsis, and because I don't want to talk about much else when I'm prone to randomly sobbing. It's occurred to me that many people with these hellish maladies aren't nearly as chatty as I am about them. Celebrities, foundations, and governmental organizations are constantly reminding us these days that millions are still suffering in silence, fearful of being stigmatized and discriminated against.

As someone still recovering from the worst depressive episode of his life, I've decided to share my most laughably absurd and humiliating incidents. My hope is that people who are privately struggling with mental illness will identify with my stories and get more comfortable sharing some dark, healing shit of their own. My other wish is that those who stigmatize mental illness will realize just how harrowing and uncontrollable it can be, and I will have succeeded at making them feel terrible. For everyone else, I just hope you enjoy my rampant oversharing in honor of those who aren't yet willing to.

1) Hysterically crying while Led Zeppelin's "Nobody's Fault But Mine" blared from the stereo in my psychiatrist's waiting room.

When I first arrived at the office of my fourth psychiatrist in the last year, it was quickly apparent to me that he was a bit quirky. "The loud rock music," he later explained, "is so people waiting can't hear the people in session." I had no further questions. Finding the right shrink is no simple task, and this weirdo was highly recommended. So I quietly sat and waited for 15 minutes, in the most fragile mental state of my existence, and listened to the punishingly loud early '70s hits of Lynyrd Skynyrd and Bad Company.

As a lifelong Zeppelin fan, I had pretty mixed feelings when I started to recognize the first few notes of "Nobody's Fault But Mine." It's arguably the best song from their 1976 Presence album — and by far, the worst possible song to hear at full volume when you're averaging 23 panic attacks a day. As Robert Plant blurted out the opening vocal wails, I started to feel a dull sensation of pleasure, something I hadn't been anywhere close to for three months.

But the swarm of black thoughts quickly reclaimed control. "Listen to the chorus," they said. "It's your fault you feel so bad. Plus, this is from Zeppelin's shittiest album." By the time my new doctor opened his office door, I was leaking tears through the fingers covering my face — and was seriously pissed he'd forever ruined such a great song for me.

2) Attempting to be escorted onto a bus by my mother so I could go uptown to see an energy healer.

There's nothing like having a parent who lives nearby, especially when your anxiety has rendered you unable to enter a motor vehicle without a pep talk. My mother is a gem and always has been. She's an outstanding babysitter to her two-year-old twin grandsons and her occasionally impaired 45-year-old son. We'd just had a nice, relaxing lunch that culminated in me suddenly feeling like I'd consumed 17 cups of very strong coffee, which seemed strange since I don't drink coffee at all.

I called the latest member of my team of health professionals. "It could be the new medication you're taking," he assured me, "or it could just be the anxiety that the new medication is trying to treat." This was a fairly typical conversation for me over the course of the last few months. "So it's up to me to decide?" I asked.

As my mother looked on with extreme concern, I reminded her of my appointment with an energy healer who had been recommended to me. When you're massively depressed, you become very open to things like seeing an energy healer or pretty much anyone in the universe who can make you feel less awful. I'd already seen this particular woman a few times and had left our sessions feeling enough relief to want to go back.

My mother and I debated the best way to get me to the Upper West Side of Manhattan during rush hour, assuming an ambulance wasn't an option just yet. My mother took the reins and said she had an app that showed what time buses uptown would be arriving on her corner. "There's one 8 minutes away," she announced. As my mind and body throbbed with terror, my mother proudly declared every movement of the upcoming bus, as if she worked for the MTA. "There's a bus at 63rd street...6 minutes away," I'd hear through my mental fog.

When the uptown M31 finally pulled up to the corner, I knew I was in trouble. My mom looked at me the way she did when she'd walk me to the school bus in kindergarten — a glance that said, "God, I hope this kid doesn't freak out." She walked me to the intimidating-looking entrance of the perfectly normal bus, and after two steps on board, I turned around and ran off. It was official. I couldn't ride a bus, even with my mommy holding my hand. "Should we try Uber?" she asked.

3) Being guided through a 17-minute crying jag in a bathroom stall at my office while six guys were waiting to crap.

On one particularly wrenching morning at work, I started texting with an old friend who happened to also be going through a challenging time with his depression. "You're not alone," he texted, perhaps not realizing that saying things like that could easily send me into a geyser of tears in front of 15 coworkers. I ran to the bathroom, and let out an audible groan of relief that one of the two bathroom stalls was empty. I shut the door and let the tears fall as quietly as possible, narrating what was happening to my friend over text.

"I'm a wreck," I said, "Now crying in bathroom at work." I was pretty sure the volume was inaudible to the guy in the stall next to me. Still, I started fake flushing every 30 seconds. "This is going to pass," my friend texted, "there are a lot of people who love you." It was almost as if he wanted me to be a blubbering, undignified mess while sitting on a toilet. These were not my normal crying heaves. It was almost as if I was vomiting up all the dark, shitty thoughts and feelings that held me hostage for months.

"Your wife loves you. Your kids love you. They know you're gonna get better," he texted. I was about eight minutes in, with no signs of slowing down. I was starting to hear the loud, familiar sighs of impatient men who really needed to go. The guy in the other stall was apparently not in a rush either. So in the middle of this intense outpouring of emotion, I found time to feel guilty that I was preventing men from taking a shit. "This isn't who you are," came the newest text, "You're just really sick right now." And just like that, round two began.

My body was quivering, and the volume was increasing. Another five minutes passed. Another three guys came in and out of the bathroom, groaning and sighing, now even pulling on the door handle, sending a clear message that crapping and/or crying in a stall for 13 straight minutes wasn't acceptable. "Think about all the people you'll be able to help," my friend texted. My body had nothing left in the tank but it still tried to let out tears — kind of like if your eyes are dry heaving.

A few minutes later, I couldn't take it any longer. No one should have to wait 17 minutes to take a dump. I thanked my friend, made one final fake flush, and slowly opened the door, keeping my head tilted downwards. I left the bathroom looking like I'd just exited a funeral. No one said a word. I briefly contemplated the notion of "crying rooms" for the mentally ill as a mandatory part of the workplace.

4) Feeling inferior to a 2-year-old.

My lovely, patient, incredibly proficient wife was running around our apartment preparing for our twin toddlers' birthday party that evening while her semi-comatose husband laid in a heap on the bed with Ronen, the chattier of our two boys. Ronen was now in a phase of excitedly wanting to answer any question you threw at him. He could still only say one word at a time but he did it with delight and vigor, as if it were a televised game show. "What color is dada's shirt?" I asked, trying to ignore the fatigue my depression generally caused at this time of day. "Blue!" he shouted. This was pretty much the exact level of conversation I could handle. "What's on your feet?" I asked. "Shoes!" Ronen yelled, proud as ever. "How old are you today?" I asked. "Two!" came the response. It was time to step up my game. "Hey buddy," I said, "What do you want for your birthday?" There was no right answer to this one. He was already getting dozens of gifts from adoring grandparents and other loved ones — everything from mini razor scooters to kiddie laptops to whatever the hell else a two-year-old likes for 30 seconds and then loses interest in. But that's not what was on Ronen's little developing mind. "Happy!" he shouted. My eyes widened. Happy. I hadn't thought about that word in a while. Was a two-year-old boy telling me that all he really wanted, above any toy in the universe, was to experience joy — the simple exhilaration of being alive? Was Ronen some sort of emotional prodigy, telling his sick and suffering father to just snap the hell out of it? I began to weep. There was no way to explain clinical depression to a 2-year-old. I wish he knew I'd give anything to just feel like myself for five minutes, to be able to bond with him and operate on his level of simplicity and ease — to be "happy." Through my tears, I yelled to my wife in the other room to let her know what our brilliant son had just said. "Oh cute," she yelled back, "Yeah, he always says 'happy' when he hears the word 'birthday'."

A week later, the worst depression of my life started to lift. A few weeks after that, it had mostly vanished. Maybe it was due to the intensive therapy. Maybe my rock-and-roll psychiatrist finally got the meds right. Or maybe inviting friends, family, and innocent bystanders into the process helped lessen the hold my mental illness had on me. No one knows for sure. But I have plenty of theories on it and am happy to expound on them to anyone who will listen.

Chrissy Teigen can't swim, but that hasn't held her back from enjoying a successful career in swimsuit modeling—so why should it keep her out of the water? The 30-year-old model and new mom celebrated the 4th of July this past weekend by throwing a pool party in the Hamptons.

Luckily, she had access to an array of floatation devices. In one Instagram photo, she's falling off one shaped like a hashtag, which she cleverly captioned: "Hashtag can't swim."

In another photo, she is lounging intimately with husband John Legend, 37. The couple are new parents to daughter Luna Simone, who is not pictured, but don't judge! Most likely she is under trusted supervision and doing typical baby stuff like napping while sucking on a 14-carat gold diamond-studded pacifier.

To wrap up the long weekend, Teigen hosted a pool party and BBQ called Chrissy's Cookout, in celebration of Independence Day. "I spent the past three years trying to prove to people that I love food, I love cooking," Teigen told People. "And that I have a passion for it that’s beyond just wanting to be a model in the food world."

Look people, Chrissy Teigen loves food, okay? It's one of the (many) things to love about her. Just hope she remembers not to swim after eating, or ever, because she can't.