Most - and I mean an overwhelming majority - of my loved ones are religious. I have nothing against people who hold fast to their religious beliefs, whatever they are. I don't have time to judge or hate theists, even if they share suboptimal memes about hellfire and brimstone in the comment section and repeat... Continue Reading →
Teeny Tiny Chronicles, Chapter 11: Spitballs
SPITBALLS The second heart-to-heart I ever had with my mother was in Spain when we were staying at my aunt Mariela’s apartment. Mariela lived on the top floor of a building in Madrid. My father, who is her little brother, taught me how to terrorize people from above in the form of spitballs and... Continue Reading →