The D-Bags Lunching at Taco Bell


I was out running errands with my mom and she told me she needed some lunch. She asked if we could stop at Taco Bell and get something to eat. We stopped at a restaurant with a wonky layout. See if you can follow along: so, you have the main floor where you order your food and there is lots of seating there and then there's this elevated part that holds 15 or so people and they overlook the lower dining area. My mom and I sat in the lower dining area right next to the elevated part where people could look down on us, over the edge.

We're sitting there eating, minding our own business when suddenly a wadded up straw wrapper goes flying onto my mom's food.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed.

With Neighbors Like This, Who Needs Enemies

I was scrolling through my Facebook feed this weekend and I saw a very upsetting status update from my friend Molly at A Day in Mollywood.

Molly came home last week to find this note on her door:

Source: Instagram
It says:

YOUR HOUSE IS THE FIRST HOUSE THAT EVERYONE SEES WHEN THEY ENTER THE NEIGHBORHOOD, COULD YOU PLEASE SHOW A LITTLE PRIDE OF OWNERSHIP AND TAKE BETTER CARE OF YOUR YARD! THANKS. [Smiley face]

First of all, I have no idea what Molly's lawn looks like, but in my lifetime of having neighbors, I have listened to enough of them bitch about lawns, to guess that Molly's grass is probably a bit shaggy with a few weeds and/or dandelions sticking up in the bushes. I guarantee you that's as "bad" as her lawn is.

I am positive that her lawn is NOT three feet high with a broken dishwasher thrown in there.

I can only imagine how much time this person had on his or her hands to sit down and craft this fine note. Maybe enough time to knock on Molly's door and say something like, "Hi. How are you? I know you've got three little kids and you and your husband have busy jobs, but I noticed that your yard needed some attention. I'm not doing anything right now and I was wondering if I could help you out? Where do you keep your mower?"

A Love Story About a Dude and His McChicken

Source: McDonalds
OK, so I couldn't sleep last night. That happens sometimes. I wake up because I have a bunch of ideas I want to write down, so I get up and I work for a few hours. However, this time I got up and my brain just wouldn't SHUT UP. Only it wasn't a good thing. It wasn't a ton of ideas that will soon be huge bestsellers and then turned into blockbuster films. NOOOOO. It was the worries. You name it, I was worried about it. I covered everything from "What is this lump? Is that cancer? Am I going to be dead by Christmas?" to Syria to Trump to my inability to leave sugar alone to "Did Adolpha get all her reading done last night? And why hasn't Gomer said more than two words to us in the last two days?" to my husband to the electric bill to being irritated that there's a damn moth flying around my office and I can't catch it. Then I worried that I wasn't getting any work done and when would I get my work done and that sent me into a shame spiral and that made me want to eat handfuls of sugar and just go back to bed. But now it's 6 am and this is the time when normal people wake up, so I'm fucked essentially.

PHEW. Did you get all of that??

Why My Children Have No Right to Privacy

My friend Kim at Let Me Start By Saying wrote an essay that was featured on the Huffington Post . It was about reading her five-year-old...