Telling spooky stories around a campfire is like a rite of passage. If you can handle these three stories, try them out with your friends on your next overnight camping adventure.
We know what you’re thinking: what do two white women from the deep South know about race that I don’t? What could they possibly tell me that I don’t already know?
The children of housewife and stay-at-home mom, Lucy Compton of Springfield, Illinois, were removed from her custody today after neighbors complained that the smell of ice cream bonbons and the sound of daytime soap operas were disruptive to their stroller jogging groups.
After a brief resurgence of American folk music in the 1950’s, gym teachers everywhere muckled onto the square dance as a way to make middle schoolers suffer.
It is not summertime in Maine until someone around a campfire declares that they make the best s’mores. Challenges for who can create the best ratio of chocolate to marshmallow are inevitably announced. The best part? There are no losers, only sticky faces, and happy campers.
We’ve all been there. You allot the amount of time Google Maps suggests for your journey from Point A to Point B and even add an extra 20-30 minutes in just to be safe. And then, halfway through your drive, traffic slows to a crawl, or even a complete halt. Suddenly, you’re going to be late for dinner, or to check into your hotel, or to meet your Grandma for lemonade.
Since when did being patriot mean being obnoxious in public? The Fourth is not about carousing around with the sounds of celebratory gunfire a la the Wild West, this is a civilized state with people who want to enjoy the Fourth with some dignity, so please respect your neighbors who don’t want to listen to your private fireworks show and your drunken singalongs until the break of dawn.