By the time you read this, the Rio Olympics will probably be over and that’s OK. Don’t get me wrong. I always get a little “No, no, there’s just something in my eye” when I hear the national anthem playing and an American is standing on the center podium clutching that grandly gaudy gold medal.
Verily, it is written that back-to-school season did once again come to pass and the devoted mom set about to spend the first week packing the perfect lunch for her cherub, carefully cutting sandwiches into dolphin shapes (school mascot), slicing fruit to ensure there would be no seeds or offensive peels and even enclosing a heart-shaped sticky note wishing her angel a wonderful day.
When I read an email last month informing me I was entitled to eight free concert tickets as part of a class-action lawsuit filed against Ticketmaster, I was as giddy as a 14-year-old girl at a Taylor Swift meet-and-greet. I read this alone at my computer and had no one to high-five or fist bump but it was a joyous moment nonetheless.
In his continuing quest to “make America 8 again,” Donald Trump has successfully lowered the level of debate to that of the ubiquitous red-faced bully we all remember from elementary school. Every school has one; it’s practically a Central Casting requirement like “kindly lunchroom lady who gives you extra fries when you look sad” and “abusive gym teacher who won’t accept “leprosy, I swear” as an excuse to get out of laps on a hot day.”
A few years ago, I wrote a column about how unfair it is that men get all the credit for a successful summer cookout when the only thing they actually do is (1) go buy the ice and, OK, that was it; there is no (2).
So the Brits want a do-over, eh? Turns out the “Leave” proponents didn’t exactly tell the whole truth about how it was going to play out once the United Kingdom exited the European Union. Sorry old chums.
Like any great athlete who retires after winning it all, American Pharoah is entitled to the good life. Or, in his case, the great life. Much has been made recently of the Triple Crown winner’s post-career living conditions, which can best be described as a mashup of MTV Cribs and the best spring break you ever had.
Why is it that every time you call a business office, medical office, government agency, even a retail store, you are greeted with an automatic response that immediately instructs you to “listen carefully, as some of our menu options may have changed.”
As a lifelong resident of the great potty-obsessed state of North Carolina, let me just say “Thank You!” to my Governor, Pat McCrory, and the wise leadership in the General Assembly for the passage of House Bill 2, which, among other things, ensures that I, and my daughter, will never be accosted by a rapist pretending to be a transgendered woman while we’re doing our business and freshening our makeup. Saints be praised.
Will someone please explain the “tiny house” craze to me? Everytime I see an article or a TV show about these “little dynamos” I have to wonder if their passionate fans have never heard of a mobile home.
There’s a hurricane coming, and you have questions. How much food should you stock up? What needs to be moved out of your yard? And what room of the house is the safest? Here are five things you definitely should do if there’s a hurricane warning.
5 things to do to prep for a hurricane
The week ahead for the Myrtle Beach area: Aug. 28-Sept. 3