remember being pregnant with my eldest daughter, perusing Facebook, when a mom friend posted a picture of her son’s poop on her wall. “He did it … he finally did it!” was captioned on the photo. As I stared at the newsfeed page, all I could think of was, ‘why?’ I mean really, who does this, who in their right mind does this? I don’t want to look at my own poo … why the heck would I want to look at his all grossed up in the toilet? My friend’s joyous celebration of her potty trained offspring was my first encounter with a mom who liked to talk about poop. Somehow, I naively thought that this annoying trait would never, ever hit me as a mother. Yet, a few days after the birth of my first daughter, I found myself doing something I never thought I would do: obsessing about stinky number twos. …show more content…
Why wasn’t she pooping … or if she was … what did it look like? The colour? Texture? Too runny, too firm? Is it stinky???? As you laugh while you are reading this, you know, this is not an uncommon thing. Moms all over this great country of ours love to obsess over our children’s $hit … and we don’t only think about it, we LOVE to talk about it! Seriously, I recently had a 20 minute conversation with a very dear friend about her son’s poop. How he was a bit constipated at first, but then he started pooping all day. ‘And what texture was it?’ I found myself asking (like Sherlock Holmes trying to solve a recent mystery). Peanut butter,’ she replied in a matter-of-fact
Today is the day. Today is finally the day that I am to be released from the psychiatric hospital since that day when I passed out. I know last time you heard from me, I was broken and unhappy and had hate for the world, but i'm in the best state i could ever be, I really am I tell you. Oh how excited I am to see old Phoebe. I haven’t seen her since i’ve been admitted into this wing of the hospital. Oh I wonder how much she has grown< She was so intelligent and pure, nothing could ever compromise her. So I hope nothing hasn’t. I was retrieving most of my belongings before I left, when I happened to run into old Ms. Patty. This was my nurse and oh, how lovely she is. “Oh hello Holden, leaving so soon ?” she said so to me with great compassion. Naturally I said, “Why yes sadly, I must go on with myself and enjoy the world, perhaps find myself a woman”, I said this suave as hell, I tell you.
Face pale with terror, Adam's shaky hand moved to switch on the bedside lamp. Images of Fire and Brimstone, and writhing figures, - men, women and children all - screaming in pain as flames consumed their bodies, flowed through his mind. Eyeballs exploded, and liquefied flesh oozed into fiery lava pits, leaving nothing but a collapsed pile of charred bones on the ground before moments later the victim's human form was resurrected in its entirety, and subjected to the same agonising fate again. Over and over, ad infinitum.
Picture her playing on the jungle gym. Swinging and sliding and laughing. Big grin, Mary Janes, and a sequin dress on.
My name is Mayella Ewell. I belong to the lowest of the low amongst the whites in Maycomb. I grew up in a poor family and never received any proper education. The only I have is probably being white. My dad and I want to have a better life, but dad doesn’t want to put any effort into doing so. My mom died when I was young and I became a surrogate wife for my dad. I wish I could have gone to school, but I have to take care of my children. My dad loves to go out and drink for the whole day. When he comes home, he often drunk and this is when he would rape me.
Once the ride was over we went to other games because the place was about to close so we just played a couple of games. We were about to leave, but we had to do something. Once we did it, we lost the boys we looked everywhere. We saw the cop again and he sent out an amber alert and looked for the boys my mom went to the front and they were there I was so scared.
“What do you think of it, Mr. Jennison?” An about fifty-year-old neighbor, Mr. Lawrence, spoke to me as he looked around the suddenly empty storage room.
Twenty years ago Jimmy Wells wanted to meet me at this place twenty years from now. Now he has caught me because he knew I was a thief .
His deep wrinkles carved a map of his life. His galaxy-blue eyes were jaded. His skin was time ravaged. He was my grandfather. I watched from the balcony, his trying to pick up his home key from the ground.
Drummer Alex makes the most noise onstage and is the quietest offstage. He’s tried to be perfect—married the perfect wife, had the perfect daughter, and . . . then it wasn’t perfect anymore. When his second daughter, Sophie, was born with disabilities, his marriage went to hell.
Come on women where the hell you've been? Been fucking around with Everyman on the planet. See fucking batsman the guardsman, doorman the fucking mailman had to go fucking dormant, in the morning became a Mormon. Don't touch my garment it's way to expensive and important. Don't want hands on it that don't belong to it. I refuse to except I'm a bad influence, it's intuitive assuasive. Let's be honest I'm innovative. Let's be honest to ourselves and our family's and say that we're pieces of shit. Just kidding. But I'm not kidding. Fucking peter the fisherman one of the most influential people in history. Stop fucking with me. Don't fuck with me. Or I'll curve you. One world order. Bonhomie records, Partners were not partners that's ignorance.
That morning I lost everything to one sin. A great deal of people use this one haunting sin. The sin I’m talking about is Alcohol. Alcohol murders people and destroys families into pieces, it can take someone over for the worst and alcohol will never bring that person back to the way they were before the sin came into their lives. That is what alcohol did to my boyfriend.
Frank, a middle-aged university professor was proud to say he wasn’t fond of people. He drank as he taught his students during the day, he drank as he read literature from his overflowing bookshelves, and he drank as he went home that evening to his miserable wife. It was a never-ending cycle. Frank, being a university professor was assumed “upper class” in society and “educated”. He should take his life for granted; he has a well-paying job and goes home every day to a well-built, expensive house. Although, he longed for something or someone different to come into his life and make him feel alive again.
Reporter stated the following: The staff noticed that she has bowel movements on herself. I was told the information on yesterday. These behaviors were noted in October 2015. In the classroom when the teacher was going to take her blanket she started crying.
ook, I’m not an idiot. I know she’s in love with Garrett. I see the way she looks at him, and I see how they are together. They’ve been a couple for six months now, and not even I, the worst friend on the planet, can deny they’re perfect for each other.
I-I Well Joseph this is why we try to tell you guys playing fighting is not a good thing to do.