Announcing My Seasonal Transition to Fairweather Friend
Fairweather Friend Season commences with the onset of colder temperatures, and/or bird migration, and/or closed-toed shoes.
Fairweather Friend Season commences with the onset of colder temperatures, and/or bird migration, and/or closed-toed shoes.
As the sun sets on the horizon, I use the bottle opener to crack open some ice cold beers and bond with my shipmates.
In 200 feet, check the mirror to ensure your child hasn’t escaped the car seat like a little Gen Alpha Houdini.
Scout is as energetic, spry, and sly as ever—the Paul Rudd of lab mixes. What’s his secret? “I sleep sixteen hours a day,” he deadpans.
We know this isn’t the news you wanted to hear, but unfortunately our pool was full of more qualified applicants or people we already know who lived closer.
I’m alone. There is no other person on Facebook. Every day, I open Facebook. I look for any sign of human life. There is none.
You’re always baking anyway, what's one more batch of brownies? What about 12 extra batches?
Using the mantra, “Don’t be a crazy person,” Amy has presented as a competent, securely attached parent at drop-off time.
Are our resources best used on returning to the moon, a place explored over 120 years ago by a team of astronomers with huge beards and wizard hats?
I could tell when the jewelry dissolved into fuschia that your rage was masking “a range of emotions, including surprise, anxiety, restlessness, and confusion.”
This jacket matches whatever you’re wearing. It’ll choose an outfit for you if you don’t know what to wear.
I’m here to take away, bogeyman-style, all the excitement that you had when you walked into my small windowless office of torture.