A Festivus for the rest of us
What’s up with China? Lip-synching little girls and underage gymnasts? Straighten up, Chungwa.
I often wonder how much of Sugar’s cat hair I’ve unintentionally ingested in the year and a half we’ve had her.
Hanson or the Jonas Brothers? I actually wouldn’t mind taking on all six. At the same time, no less.
Remember when Minute Maid came in a black carton? What were they thinking? The juice of death that goes perfect with your breakfast?
One morning the other weekend, I woke up and went into the hallway and noticed the light was on in J. Co’s room. Ice-cold fear shot through me, as she’s been on vacay in Peru for the last month and I’ve been on my own. My eyes went wide as I realized my greatest fear had come true: someone had broken into the house. I crept down the hall, listening for sounds, and prepared to open the door, expecting to find some crackhead, deshelved transient rifling through her things. I steeled my nerves, prepared for the worst, and pushed upon the door with a whoosh…. and was met with a sun-dappled, person-free room. The sun had come out, and filled the room with light, and I was safe for another day.
