“You need to be able to change your own tire and if anyone bothers you, whack him in the head with the heavy end of the jack.”
All in Screams From Suburbia
“You need to be able to change your own tire and if anyone bothers you, whack him in the head with the heavy end of the jack.”
These parents, the same busybodies who schedule play dates where they vigilantly enforce “sharing” rules, want to be present during the only 30 minutes of the day when kids get to act like, well, kids.
Where would you want your ashes scattered? Assuming cremation is in your future, that is.
I read somewhere - or one of my friends told me - that the optimum sleeping temperature is 64. Never one to discard science, I try to keep my house in the 65-68 range. Summer and winter.
They know no tricks, are not reliably housebroken, cannot climb a flight of stairs without help and they growl at every dog we pass on the street. They weigh exactly five pounds each.
The sun doesn’t set until 8:25 p.m. this time of year in Virginia Beach, located at 36.8529° N, 75.9780° W, which means they were having backseat sex in broad daylight, on a city street lined with historic brick sidewalks that families use to lug their beach paraphernalia and where kids ride their bikes.