satire
"Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city." - George Burns
Grandparents and Grandchildren Conspire
I am still investigating this story. Who is uprooting the authority of the parents in their own household? Who would be so brazen and bold to uproot the natural order of the parental units? Many mothers and fathers have sought asylums in neighboring countries like Mexico and France. Under the pretense of second honeymoons and anniversaries, parents have tried to escape to all-inclusive resorts. Without children without grandparents. Parents seem eager to get away and leave everything. After one week, the parents' request for parental asylum was rejected by the host nation and begrudgingly parents returned to their native country with long faces and regrets. Details are incomplete. My sources have become tight-lip and have recanted their statements. I am still trying to figure out who is the mastermind behind the coup to unseat the parents.
By Zante Cafe3 years ago in Families
The Biggest, Bestest, Bumper Book of Dad Jokes in the Multiverse!
Hello fellow humane beings , travellers and explorers of universes, please find my jokes here worth reading, i hope you do and you enjoy them as much as i do, future jokes will be available as i write them, my jokes are my own creations, enjoy everyone and best Ever-mores to you all, thanks!
By MR JOSEPH CLARK3 years ago in Families
Oh no!
Chapter 1 Part I In space your screams will not be heard. My decision to be a passenger on the colonizing ship "Principle 5", does not obey the need to explore new horizons, nor the tendency to create a new civilization, with new rules and virtues. For me, the world with all its defects, is so wonderfully natural, that the effort to change it, exceeds my potential capacities to adapt to any situation, no matter how adverse or unpleasant they may be. But there is one that exceeds my limits of tolerance. My mother in law.
By Ana Manrique3 years ago in Families
Five heartbreaking moments for men, how many more did you hit?
Why do so many people drive home and sit in the car for hours when they get downstairs?" One highly praised response was particularly poignant, with one saying: "A lot of times I don't want to get out of the car because it's a cut-off point. Open the door you are daily necessities, is a father, is a son, is a husband, but not yourself; In the car, a person in the car to quietly, smoke a cigarette, the body belongs to their own.
By Wilhelmina4 years ago in Families
The Chicken Knock
While raising my family out in the country chickens were a part of our unique little farm life and their purpose was to provide eggs for my family, and those hens did their job well. Those layers supplied my family, parents, and friends with farm-fresh eggs. They had free roam and we cooped them up only at night. My two youngest boys would find stashes of eggs all over. They would come running up to the house with more than a dozen eggs collected in their tee shirts. Everyone who visited would go home with at least a dozen eggs.
By Paula Cushman4 years ago in Families
Dear Ol' Dar
{SNI(long inhale, through the nose)FF!} {HAA(slow, exhaled sigh through the mouth)AH!} That’s my dad. Long, measured inhalation of breath through the nose. Hold it. Slow, breathy sigh out the mouth. This was usually followed by him placing his hand over his mouth, thumb on one cheekbone, index finger on the other, then slowly moving his hand downward, stroking his salt and paprika beard.
By M. Michael TRARP4 years ago in Families
The Jenkinson debócale
“Merry no!” Frank said within the fullness of concern. She was across the room. The party halted and all eyes were on him. Merry herself was quite startled and stood frozen, with a Christmas cookie in her hand. “Frank, don’t embarrass me” she stomped over in a huff as the crowd began to regain the momentum of the neighborhood party. It was being held at Jenkinson's this year and Merry felt pressured to look her best. The Jenkinson’s always had the best things and threw the best parties and always boasted of it as well. Frank hated the Jenkinson’s. “What is it?” asked Merry angrily. “Wait, wait look” said Frank pointing over at the snack table that Merry had just marched from. Merry looked over just in time to see George Jenkinson take a bit of the very same type of cookies that she was seconds from eating herself. Mr. Jenkinson ate. “Slam dunk” whispered Frank. “You didn’t” Merry whispered in response, though she needed no answer, the look in his eye was all she needed. “How much did you put in?”, “all of it”, “all of it?”, “Every. Last. Drop”. Merry looked up in desperation to see if anything could be done to change what had just happened, but to her dismay all she saw was George Jenkinson scarfing down their cookies. Helpless, she watched as he praised their freshly made cookies to all the guests and offered them to everyone. Everyone at the party had taken one at this point.
By Jedidiah Johnson4 years ago in Families
5-9-5-3. Runner-Up in Mother's Day Confessions Challenge.
Hey Mom. I never told you this before, but I need to confess something. As you know, I lived at your place for a bit, we’ll call it eighteen years. For the first twelve or so, there was a rule that was not to be broken: Do NOT watch any adult TV shows. This rule was created after the great “Degrassi Incident” where the ten-year-old version of Kyle was watching his weekly teen melodrama and accidentally inquired as to what Marijuana was. Yes, it was an accident, and no I didn’t actually know what marijuana was until several years later, which I’m sure will be covered in another story. The point is, you had to do something. Honestly, I get it. You didn’t want to be the only one at parent-teacher conferences having to explain why at recess your 4th grader was the one rolling joints out of Crayon paper or singing Bob Marley on the play structure. No harm no foul, but I digress.
By Kyle Maddox4 years ago in Families
Yes, Sir, Daddy Darling, Sir (Salute Twice)
Yes, Sir, Daddy, Darling, Sir! (Salute Twice) By Minnette Meador On that bright September morning in 1959, the kind that sparks apples on cheeks, we walked across the school parking lot. The brick building loomed gargantuan in front of us, and the pillared vestibule was filled to the brim with noisy kids. Some were confident, smug, smacking each other on the shoulders as if to say, “This is my place.” Others bounced against their parent’s hands in fidgety excitement; I was one of those.
By Minnette Meador4 years ago in Families
The Year of El Diablo
Some stories need to be told. They become legendary and passed from generation to generation. It's how we learn about our ancestors, our family before us, and we pass those stories to our children and grandchildren, and these stories get told to the generations after them. Growing up, I had uncles with nicknames like Killer Quintero and Big Al from Alisal. Even I was blessed with a handle, Paula Mae, for my Ellie Mae Clampett ways.
By Paula Cushman4 years ago in Families
