*clears throat*
Met the fam, even the ones abroad, Sunday dinner game nights the whole works.
Her best friend couldn't take the lie and told me I was the side piece. She deh wid a big man that she couldn't bring home so I was the show piece.
School suspends a 5-year-old for fighting.
Dad gets called in. Expecting him to apologize, punish his son, and play the good little parent.
Instead the dad listens to his son:
“This kid was picking on me at recess. I asked him to stop. He didn’t.”
Then the dad turns to the principal and says what every father in America has been thinking:
“So you don’t even know what the bully was doing to my kid… but you’re suspending MY son for ending it?”
He looks at the bully kid and says:
“You gonna think twice before you bully my son again.”
Then he turns to his boy, gives him knuckles right there in the office in front of the principal, assistant principal, counselor, and nurse:
“Son, I’m proud of you. You ain’t suspended. You got a three-day vacation. It’s hunting season. Let’s go.”
Zero tolerance policies are a joke.
They only tolerate one thing: kids who won’t defend themselves.
This dad just reminded every weak administrator in America what real parenting looks like.
Raise men. Not victims.
One evening when I was a kid, my mom came home after a really long, exhausting day at work. She still made dinner for us. She put a plate in front of my dad.... scrambled eggs, a small salad, and two pieces of toast that were very clearly burnt.
I was sitting across from him and I noticed the toast right away. I remember thinking, “Oh no… he’s going to say something.” I waited for the complaint.
But my dad just smiled, picked up the burnt toast, took a big bite, and said cheerfully:
Dad: “Mmm. This looks great, honey. How was your day at school, champ?”
I was stunned. My mom looked at the toast, then at him, and sighed.
Mom: “I’m so sorry about the toast. I burned it. I was so tired and distracted…”
My dad reached over, gently squeezed her hand, and said softly:
Dad: “Honey, I love burnt toast.”
My mom laughed a little, still looking guilty. “You don’t have to say that.”
Dad: “I mean it. Burnt toast from you tastes better than perfect toast from anyone else.”
Later that night, after I brushed my teeth, my dad came into my room to say goodnight. He sat on the edge of my bed and gave me a kiss on the forehead. I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
Me: “Dad… do you really like burnt toast? Or were you just being nice to Mom?”
He looked at me for a second, then smiled and pulled me into a hug.
Dad: “Let me tell you something important. Your mom had a really hard day today. She still came home and made dinner for us even though she was tired. She didn’t have to do that. So why would I complain about a little burnt toast? Burnt toast never hurt anyone… but harsh words can stay with someone for a long time.”
He ruffled my hair and continued:
Dad: “We have to learn how to appreciate what people do for us, even when it’s not perfect. It’s the intention that matters. Nobody is perfect, kiddo. But love is about choosing kindness anyway.”
That conversation stuck with me more than almost anything else from my childhood. My dad wasn’t just teaching me about marriage or food... he was teaching me about grace, gratitude, and love in the everyday moments.
I am a customer in this pharmacy store late at night. As I walk up to the counter, a male customer is loudly complaining to a male cashier about 'the gays.' Being a lesbian, I'm gathering up the courage to say something when the following happens.)
Male Customer: "The gays keep trying to turn everyone!"
Male Cashier: "It must be rough."
Male Customer:
"How do you mean?"
Male Cashier: "I have a handful of gay friends, and no matter how much time I've spent with them, I've never wanted to have sex with other dudes. I'm just saying it must be rough to have such a tenuous hold on your sexuality that you're always worried about being turned by the slightest contact. I feel for you."
(It takes a moment, but the male customer realizes what the male cashier is saying.)
Male Customer: "...Hey, f*** you, buddy!"
Male Cashier: "You want to f*** me? Oh god, it's happening now! There must be a gay in the store! Run!"
Customer:
*screaming* "Go to h***!"
(The customer then runs out of the store. As I put my stuff up on the counter, the manager runs up from one of the aisles.)
Manager: "What the h*** was that?"
Cashier: "Oh, I'm probably just getting a customer complaint in the morning. Totally worth it... I'll explain later." *to me* "Sorry about all that. How are you tonight?"
Me: "If I was straight, I would totally be giving you my number right now."
THE FUCKING NERVE OF NETFLIX AND OTHER STREAMING SERVICES TO ENCOURAGE US TO CANCEL OUR CABLE WITH THE PROMISE TO DELIVER AN AD FREE SERVICE, ONLY TO TURN AROUND AND RE INTRODUCE ADS, AND THEN CHARGE YOU ON TOP OF YOUR CURRENT PLAN FOR THE PRIVILEGE TO REMOVE THEM!!!!!
govt a collect customs money from car imports and deeven a use it fix the road so we can drive good wid the said car them a tax we arm and leg pon. country fucked bro.
In Barbados, house and car are left unlocked , literally all the time
Meanwhile in Jamaica even with locked gate, high walls, bright flood lights and cameras I wake up to see that someone climbed over my gate to break into cars 🤬🤬🤬