Parents, Unfortunately We Are Disbanding Our School’s Curling Team
Mr. Jensen has not won eight gold medals in curling. In fact, it’s unclear whether or not Mr. Jensen has even seen curling before.
Mr. Jensen has not won eight gold medals in curling. In fact, it’s unclear whether or not Mr. Jensen has even seen curling before.
What business is it of yours if I put mango in my risotto? Hm?
Kevin’s voice sounds like Dad’s. Except it cracks walls and sets off car alarms, and also he accidentally stepped on a school bus.
We found out that for a whole six months of junior year you got really, really into Doctor Who and Sherlock. Like, fanfiction level.
The “Seat Yourself” sign in a totally empty restaurant, so I stood awkwardly at the host stand for 15 minutes.
I don’t want my future to go up in smoke. Sam is always watching. I don’t want to risk my chances of getting into a good college. Or my standing with Sam.
I don't want to be bad, but I will if I have to. Wait, scratch that. I actually LOVE being bad. And guess what? To me? Being bad feels GOOD.
You’re young, your hormones are raging. All you want to do is figure out what the shadowy figure following you through mirrors is saying.
Depending on how gross the thought is, I’ll either do a full “tut tut” or just a simple tongue cluck. It’s an art, really.
In five years I hope I can stop dwelling on the time when I was sucked into the thick swamp ooze only to be rescued by a creature of the night.
Monday: Put on the same underwear you wore yesterday. Mistake a wolf for your grandma.
“I know you mean well, Dad,” my sister said. “But these days, it’s considered more polite to say ‘enormous insect’ rather than ‘monstrous vermin’.”