Plans for the Jazz Party I’m Throwing My Five-Year-Old Son
Guests are forbidden from bringing presents. Jazz is a gift in itself.
Guests are forbidden from bringing presents. Jazz is a gift in itself.
6:45 AM: Wind speed in the air is currently ten miles per hour, which is something only relevant to me.
Allowing us to sell your data helps us serve you ads relevant to your interests. Also, the orb is ravenous.
Yeah, Mama and I have been good. Just the daily grind, trying to bang out those milestones. You know how it is. Starting to roll over, yep.
Holding a fair after the Windowpane Smashing Festival wouldn’t work either because, well, the windowpanes are all smashed, obviously.
70 ft: Screw it, I’m just going to wave. Social norms be damned! 65 ft: Shit, he’s definitely not looking at me.
That’s right, I’d be afraid if I were you too. Afraid of having my actions held up to intellectually rigorous ethical scrutiny!
An avid motorcycle rider, Ben loved the freedom of the road. And before you jump to conclusions, no, that’s not how he died.
★★ I’ve never seen a movie with so much dancing that’s not a musical. I’m so glad Six Flags isn’t a real place.
That’s great, Sylvia. I’ll just make a note of that for my records. Do you mind if I change the subject while we wait for our server to arrive?
Thanks to the PTA and a few passionate teachers, an after-school grammar club is formed so kids like me have a safe place to diagram sentences.
I know, it’s such a cliché: “This year, no more eating children! Not even the wicked ones!” But it makes sense.