My Bhutanese Drama Students Want to Recreate “Son of the Mask” and I Have No Idea What to Do
How can I adapt "Son of the Mask" into a 10-minute play with a bunch of Bhutanese 13-year-olds who speak limited English?
How can I adapt "Son of the Mask" into a 10-minute play with a bunch of Bhutanese 13-year-olds who speak limited English?
Somehow I just couldn't stay pissed off at frat guy. He was my tax wingman, even though he totally killed my self-esteem.
I applaud you, as you were comfortable, people complimented you, and you made me appear like I had my shit together, which I did not.
"Pam I think Mark is at this party??" I typed as I moved in on his doppelganger. "Does he still wear the shirt I bought him 4 christmas?????"
My two-year-old then "dove" towards the airport floor, arms straight behind her as Moana's are when she swims down for the heart of Te Fiti.
Adam was friendly, smart, and best of all, my first gay roommate. I couldn't wait to paint our nails, make out drunk, and go shopping together.
My parents' top priority wasn't a clean room or fresh air, but fire safety. This is why I had a 15-foot fire ladder in my second-floor bedroom.
I hate Irv, my 66-year-old co-worker who's retiring at the end of the month. He's been gloating about it since I started working with him 7 years ago.
"We will play until someone hits the ball past the green patch!" Mikey announces. As pitcher, I know this means we're in for a forever-inning.
The ride starts up and our car whips around and gathers speed. "HOLY SHIT we're heading straight for the fence!" my coffee conscience says.
Here I stand, a proud Giants fan in Veterans Stadium prepared to be spit and spilled on at every turn, proclaiming that Eagles fans have gotten a bad rap.
I had long heard rumors of Ben's virtual atrocities, but I needed to see proof of them for myself. After all, he's 10, how bad could it be?