@kiko69264573307@fox8news You're an idiot.
If you do some actual research... it's because Albertsons is suing Kroger for *billions* because of a "Breach Of Contract".
@822bfdkhkt@fox8news You're an idiot.
If you do some actual research... it's because Albertsons is suing Kroger for *billions* because of a "Breach Of Contract".
@OHIOWTFLLC@fox8news@VivekGRamaswamy You're an idiot.
If you do some actual research... it's because Albertsons is suing Kroger for *billions* because of a "Breach Of Contract".
Wowowww. So awesome to see people like Miguel Rojas who have such an appreciation for America, and are becoming citizens the right way…legally. Love it! Congrats Miguel! 🇺🇸
@ImMeme0 These are the slugs that perpetuate the ongoing mental health decline.
They *seek* reasons why they cannot work or function in a normal society.
The self aggrandizing of fantom health concerns is disgusting.
Age limits for elected office is one of the most reasonable, uncontroversial, common sense policies that has no discernible downside and would attract wide approval from both liberals and conservatives. You could even set the cap high, like age 80, and remove any possible argument against it while still solving a significant chunk of the problem. But it will never happen because the politicians themselves would have to put the policy in place. And they won't do anything that limits their ability to cling to power, even to their dying breath.
I need to make a very PUBLIC announcement on behalf of younger GenXers and older Millennials.
If you see someone in their 40s or 50s who seems a little boring now, I need you to understand something...
We already got it in.
Like...GOT. IT. IN.
We are not sitting home on a Friday night because we never knew how to have fun.
We are sitting home on a Friday night because we have seen enough.
We went to parties in houses that should have been condemned and were almost certainly owned by the local drug dealer.
We saw police lights and RAN and not across a nice, flat field.
INTO THE WOODS.
Do you understand the athleticism required to hurdle uprooted tree roots in platform shoes while simultaneously trying to keep your low-rise jeans from sliding completely off your ass?
And somehow...we never spilled the Zima. We never spilled the Boone’s Farm.
That was TALENT.
We slept on floors in strange houses because the designated driver either never showed up or, in a shocking turn of events, was drunker than everybody else.
There was no Uber, Life360 or Find My Friends.
There was just somebody named Mike saying, “I know a shortcut.”
And we FOLLOWED MIKE.
We closed down bars and then decided the night was still young, so we drove to Atlantic City, where we somehow managed to get drunk, sober up, get drunk again, sober up again and then get drunk a THIRD TIME before breakfast.
And according to our parents? We were at Michelle’s house.
Eating pizza and watching movies.
Michelle’s mother unknowingly covered for approximately 17 people every weekend. If there even was a Michelle.
We drank things called Purple Passion, Mad Dog 20/20 and whatever somebody mixed inside a giant plastic garbage can. Nobody asked what was in it. You grabbed a red Solo cup and trusted the process.
We went to clubs until the lights came on. Do you know the psychological damage of seeing a nightclub with the LIGHTS ON? Nothing good happens after those lights come on.
We danced for four straight hours in shoes that permanently altered the structure of our feet.
We made entire plans without cell phones...no texts, dropped pins or group chats...just an extremely questionable sense of direction.
We rode in cars with 11 people when the vehicle legally seated five. Someone was always sitting on someone. Someone was always in the hatchback.
And there was always one friend yelling, “DUCK!” when we passed a cop.
So yes...now we like being home.
We like sweatpants.
We like cancelling plans.
We like saying, “That sounds fun!” with absolutely no intention of attending.
We like restaurants at 5:30 because we can get a good table.
We like being home by 8:17.
And if someone texts at 9:30 PM and says, “What are you doing?”
Sleeping...we are sleeping.
Because this is not boring my friends...this is retirement.
We already played, partied and danced on the bar.
We already ran from the cops through a wooded area dressed like a Spice Girl.
We have stories that cannot be posted because there are still people with careers, marriages and reputations to protect. And thank GOD there were no camera phones.
So kids, when you look at your Gen X and older Millennial parents sitting peacefully on the couch watching Dateline at 8 PM and think:
“God, you guys are boring.”
Sweetheart...oh sweetheart.
You are looking at retired legends.
Put some respect on our names. We're probably the reason Life360 was invented.
xoxoxo (posted from someone else on FakeBook) 🤣 #genx #oldandtired
Do yourself a favor and watch a father whose daughter was permanently disabled by an illegal alien with a CDL completely roast Democrats to their faces.
Nobody tells you when you’re a kid that one random Sunday at Grandma’s house will eventually be the last time everyone is there at the same time.
The cousins are running in and out of the house.
Somebody’s yelling, “STOP SLAMMING THAT DOOR!”
The adults are sitting around the kitchen table talking about things you couldn’t care less about.
There’s food everywhere.
Someone is asleep in a recliner.
You can hear the TV from the other room.
You’re bored half the time and begging to go home.
And you have absolutely no idea that you are standing inside a memory you will spend the rest of your life wishing you could walk back into.
Then everybody grows up.
The cousins move away.
People get married.
Families get busy.
Grandparents get older.
The house gets sold.
Some people stop speaking.
Some people are no longer here.
And suddenly you’d give just about anything to sit at that kitchen table for ten more minutes and hear everybody’s voices coming from different rooms.
The older I get, the more I realize…
We weren’t “just going to Grandma’s house.”
We were going to the one place where our entire family still belonged to each other.
And somehow none of us realized it was temporary.
If you had a house like that growing up, you were richer than you knew. 🤍
Whose house was “the house” in your family?