My father forced me to go to the polling booth with him every year. Dressed in my Catholic school uniform, I would walk with him to the local polling station, where he would force me to stay in my spot as he moved towards a heavy apparatus that looked like an essential part of Frankenstein’s laboratory. Continue reading “Daddy teaches me how to to eliminate Public Enemy No. 1”
If there is one thing I have learned while living in the suburbs, it is that people will find 101 uses for an empty uterus.
Remember those old posters about footprints in the sand? I hated it back then, and I have equal contempt for those postcard images on Facebook.