An open letter to punks who don’t smile back at me
By Veronica Sirotic | April 11, 2017I don’t smile with my tongue anymore. I threw away my Burt’s Bee medicated lip balm. My lips are so chapped.
I don’t smile with my tongue anymore. I threw away my Burt’s Bee medicated lip balm. My lips are so chapped.
If you send multiple texts in a row, then how can I know for sure that the beginning of the next text is a separate thought and not an extension of the previous sentence?
Now I’m going to beg. I’m not proud of it, but it needs to happen and I’m the only one with low enough self esteem.
I never used to want to be president. It always seemed like a lot of work.
In any case, I suspected I might now find myself in trouble with the IRS.
I know this is a good school, but can we agree that no one here can offer a fresh, never-before-seen take on a congressional bill?
You dash out of the room, dreams of pumpkin muffins and apple crumble supplanting your previous concern that your professor’s body has been replaced by food.
My great-grandmother (“Mom Dondero,” as we referred to her as) was a shrewd woman.
Like most people, I google “Dolly Parton” about three times a week just to check up on my favorite country musician.
All of us know what it’s like to have neighbors. They always seem to want something from you — and nine times out of 10, what they want is for you to feed their pesky felines when they’re out of town.
Hey there, pal. I heard you got dumped. I’m really sorry about that.
With a wave of students thrown into disarray and confusion from these findings, teachers, doctors and educational experts are working to offer alternative locations for studying.
Faced with the threat of unemployment, I developed a plan.
A young boy watched as the last crop withered in his hands. “How did this happen?” he asked. “How did nobody notice this coming?”
If you or anyone you know would like to help me acquire one of these or literally any career, feel free to contact me.
Screw it, that’s not even far enough, lets just start rioting.
Ruffle my hair? Ah, hell, why not. For old time’s sake. Go right ahea — ouch! Damn it, Dad T-shirt.
I don’t even know when we got to this point. What’s society’s big deal with following all these prescribed rules?
It was not too long ago that most of humanity rushed to toy shops, grocery stores,and knock-off Hallmark cards locations in search of one item.
I don’t think it’s possible for us to expect less of our school. This is a “u up?” text message at 3:00 am. This is the bare minimum.