Is Your Life Dysfunctional or Quirky Enough to Write a Factually Disputed Memoir?
Did you grow up in a modest house, or the suburbs, or a brownstone, or a symbolically dilapidated mansion?
Did you grow up in a modest house, or the suburbs, or a brownstone, or a symbolically dilapidated mansion?
Okay, now we're starting to get mad. What kind of civilized person puts items in their shopping cart and just leaves them there?
Of this you are sure: a. All that glitters is gold b. All the apples in this bushel will make delicious cider for us to enjoy around the fireplace
What if those years embroiled in a sadistic old bat’s cruel ploy to take revenge could be avoided by setting deranged convicts loose in your youth?
"I didn’t even know it was a crime. I worked down at the docks. I had no idea I was helping smuggle in the Scarecrow’s neurotoxins."
As you already know from my #startupgrind Instagram posts, I’ve been hard at work on an exciting new business venture!
What do you people want from me? To jump in my bald-eagle-shaped submarine and hand-deliver it to one of your warehouses?
I was so concerned to hear that, after entering your data, you were presented with a mangled 1988 Pontiac Fiero covered in blood, shit, and fire.
Maybe you could just be an accountant who wears a tiara and pets a teacup poodle whilst shoveling through student loan debt for the rest of her life.
So first you met a crustacean down at the beach and the two of you “really hit it off.” Let’s unpack that a bit.
It's pledge drive season here at NPR, and we're going to air some of the worst radio you’ve ever imagined until you pay us to stop.
I’m not sure what the deal is but I wanted to lodge a formal complaint. Do you have an email?