For when you want to become a respectable accountant with a golden retriever and a solid 401K… But you kinda want to slam dunk & date chicks, too.
Like with every other act of parenting, I put on my straight face and made things up. I saw a glimpse into the future with a toddler listening to Dashboard Confessional while crying fresh tears into his black nail polish and let me tell you one thing: Mama ain’t about all that.
Amid the turkeys crafted from toilet paper rolls, the thrilling promise of pie, and the peace-meal story of Pilgrims, I thought I’d slip some life-altering lessons to my toddler in regards to Thanksgiving. We sat last week and attempted to make a list of what he is most grateful for. Over the span of a… Continue reading Glue Sticks & A Gratitude Malfunction
One guy just straw-stabbed and shot-gunned an entire Capri Sun in ten seconds. Another dude is sloppy swallowing cupcakes way past his personal capacity. Someone tells him he’s had enough and he throws a fit like a total baby. There’s always that certain point past which each burp threatens to become barf. Some girl dances to… Continue reading Rugrat Rager & The Half-Pint Heathens
Contrary to the flat, thud design of these caveman feet, I was a dancer once. What began as an opportunity for my mother to get an hour-a-week break from my spazzing self transitioned into an hour-a-week chance for my spazzing self to put a rhythm and heartbeat behind my moves, to believe just for a… Continue reading Don’t Put Out The Fire