mthor

And ties. Don't forget the ties.

My father taught me how to make bread and Stingers. He taught me how to bait a hook and gut a fish, and how to draw blood. After I moved back up to my home town, we'd go out in the woods to pick blueberries every summer. I hated it. The mosquitoes were horrible, but I'd go anyway, because Dad asked, and because my stepmother worried about him out in the middle of nowhere. (He always had a cell phone, but he never turned it on.) The summer before he died, I'd stop by after work, and, maybe once a week, I'd ask if he was ready to go. Finally, he said, "I don't want to disappoint you, but I don't think I can do it." "I don't really want to go," I said. "I just didn't want to disappoint you, either." Miss you, Dad.

Six of one, half dozen of the other. She was a mean, bitter woman.

Caesar Romero. Fight me

After I moved back to my home town, my spinster aunt decided that it would be great to type up all of Grandma's recipes (my job, because computer). No problem - just give me the recipes. But no. She has to copy them by hand and give them to me, because I won't be able to read Grandma's writing. (Bitch, please. At this point, I've been reading doctors' handwriting for like 30 years. Unless Grandma was writing in Rapa Nui pictographs or cuneiform, I can read it.) I'm a bit perplexed, but ok. She had changed the recipes. I know, because I had gotten a bunch of them straight from Grandma before she died,and my aunt had changed them. I don't know where she hid them. We couldn't even find them when we cleaned out her house after she went to the nursing home. But she had totally screwed up about half of them. True story: she died about seven years ago, and to this day, grass will not grow on her grave.

Yeah, yeah, get in line. Next you'll be telling me that I can't have them pick up smokes and beer for me.

Cap'n Crunch.

It's a little late for me to be concerned about what my children see on TV.

Yeah, but I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night.

🤯

Hey! I'm first. Get in line.

Docket. How did you get into college? How do you write papers?

How will you be it? You can't even spell it.

*Psych English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?

For what? Telling you how many ignorant you are?

He can tell the state if he wants to, but if the person he's telling the state about isn't on Medicaid, he's breaking HIPAA, and will lose his license.

Tell the state what, that I have NPD? Goddamn, you're dumb.

Don't stop him. I want to see what happens when he reports me for abusing my 38 and 35 year old children.

Why not now? If you're that concerned, report me now.

So you don't know. And you don't care, because if you actually saw a reportable situation, you wouldn't need to be mandated to report it. So. You're a poor student and a poor excuse for a human being. Got it. Thanks for clarifying.

Why don't you answer me? Is it because you can't? What are the responsibilities of a mandated reporter?

Tell us what it means. Otherwise, as a mandated reporter myself, I'm going to conclude that you don't know

It just hit me - you can't tell cluster B from STDs. Sorry, dude. Cluster Bs aren't required reporting.

If you were actually that concerned, you'd report now. You don't have to be mandated.

Oh, come on. You can talk about it. After all, we all float down here.