To be clear, we did not ask for the matzah. To be clearer, every single one of us brushed it aside and ate the bread buried beneath it.
To be clear, we did not ask for the matzah. To be clearer, every single one of us brushed it aside and ate the bread buried beneath it.
(Part of the Ebola Mom series)
I’m less concerned about the fact that my cell number was passed along without my permission than I am about the fact that someone has chosen to be good friends with Ebola Mom.
Also– 13 YEAR OLD BOY?! No. My misery quota for this season has been filled.
A few things:
2. Tomorrow, we will send a big ball of phlegm to your mother’s office, which will sit on her desk all day, slowly oozing around her workspace and contaminating everything and everyone. Tit for tat, lady.
(Part of the Ebola Mom Series)
It seems Ebola Mom’s peace-offering plan was foiled. But the important thing is, she has her priorities straight:
Me (to student not following directions): “Excuse me, sir– what’s going on over there?”
Student: “Sorry. I’m jet-lagged.”