don't dead, open inside.

“They are your ___. You should forgive and make up because they are your ___.”

Took a bit of maturing, but I’ve learned you don’t have to forgive people and certainly you don’t have to let them back in your life, even if they are family. Some people just aren’t cut out for their role in your life. Biological or otherwise.

Do Not Let Your Children Play In THe Corn.

Eggs. Scrambled, fried, poached, hard boiled, soft boiled, sunny side up or down. My little brother stuck Nickelodeon gak in my mouth while I was sleeping and it had the same texture/taste as cooked eggs after being chewed.

I can’t do eggs. After being pregnant even the smell of them being cooked turns my stomach now.

I’m glad I wasn’t a weird parent.

Begins with a P and ends with the time period of 1603–1867 in Japan.

The people that don’t wash their belts are probably also the people that never wash their winter coat regularly.

It’s truly disappointing to see that, as an American, this is what France is now. French troops saved my grandpa (AA) back in WWII when they were a more racially progressive country than the USA and I always looked up to them for that. Black POWs would often be mysteriously “killed in the camps” right before being rescued by American troops, but the French troops found him first.

I’m glad many are rioting over this. That is the France I know.

Nope. they just straight up set it on fire like they were having a nice little bonfire. It looks like an entertainment system they fished from the dumpster.

I'm not entirely convinced that it isn't all mostly bot activity.

I tried doing a paper route in a small town back when I was a fresh from high school teen. It was the early aughts when all those teen horror movies were coming out. Early, early in the morning enough to be considered late at night from the previous day, I was driving down a dirt road all alone. My music was blasting so as to stave off the loneliness of being one of maybe (If I'm being generous) 3 people awake in the surrounding 50 miles of small-town nothingness. As I was driving down this dirt road to the next part of my route, the road went from clear to a dense fog that rivaled the comical bits in tv shows where the stoners are hot boxing & you don't know they are in the car until they open the door and get out.

That was when I saw it.

The longest redlight ever at the entrance to a single-lane covered bridge that ended somewhere in the fog. I couldn't just ignore the red light and drive across the bridge because I couldn't see if there was a car at the other end. There was no other end to be seen. But I also didn't want to sit there at the red light in the middle of nowhere feeling unseen eyes peering menacingly at me through the fog.