What is this something you speak of?
I’m pretty sure my mother’s first language is English.
This photo was taken at Kings Island near Cincinnati, OH. I spent many summers here staring at the troll people that would come from the surrounding sewer communities. Also, I found a lot of used band-aids here. A lot…
More importantly, the Brady Bunch filmed an episode here. This put Kings Island on the map. The park also is home to The Beast and The Son of Beast. (RIP SON OF BEAST) I just wish that I had visited Kings Island when it was more majestic and more wholesome. It’s just not the same. I don’t think that the Brady Bunch would agree to filming an episode there today.
What’s with people posting ultrasounds of their unborn alien babies?
Can you believe that yesterday marked Osama Bin Laden’s one year anniversary of leaving this earth behind?
Why is it that I can remember the exact place I was when something monumentally negative happens? I don’t celebrate death in any form.
I was at my favorite dive bar in Ukrainian Village on a mediocre date at best. The bar was full of rednecks shouting at the television. I wanted to leave but was scared to pass by them on the way to the exit.
I was in seventh grade English with Mrs. Fisher the day the towers went down. We weren’t allowed to watch the news. Mrs. Fisher continued with the lecture. The only way I knew it was serious was when Jerilynn B. ruined her perfect attendance to go home to be with her family.
I was swimming at Black Oak Swim Club when I heard about Princess Di. It was a somber day full of getting out of the pool and waiting fifteen minutes every time thunder boomed.
Why can’t we as ‘Mericans remember positive monumental things? Where were you when Kelly Clarkson became our FIRST American Idol? Bad example.
Even my parents talk about shit like where they were when JFK was shot. (My mom was in class and the whole school was let out).
From now on I’m going to make strong mental notes when something excellent happens.
No, seriously, congrats.
If you’re reading this it means you’ve made it through one more season of seasonal depression.
A moment of silence to those who didn’t, please.
(Whitney Houston, Bob Anderson, Etta James, Don Cornelius, Davy Jones, Robert Sherman, etc.)
Both my dad and Mr. Potatohead turned sixty this year. Hence the potato card!
This pooch died for our sins.
I’m not really sure who the award is for.