ur house had one bathroom. That meant one toilet for 10 kids.
One of my earliest memories ever is sitting on that toilet yelling at the top of my lungs as I was potty training.
“I’m gonna fall in!” I screamed.
My mother, who was standing a few feet away with a smile on her face and arms crossed, said to me in a calm voice, “You’re not gonna fall in. Just be sure to tuck your penis in.” [click to continue…]
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he Suburban was bright yellow and had a 250-horse power engine. It cost 53 dollars to fill the tank with the cheapest grade. Rust had eroded through the roof, revealing a cell phone sized hole in the front passenger side. This all-natural sunroof would be great for a climate like California, but in Washington, it proved to be annoying. The Suburban spit out enough exhaust to easily destroy the one and half acre ozone above our property.
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rowing up, we used sleeping bags instead of comforters. Sleeping bags, although annoying to wash, were much easier for a poor family to use. They were more durable and stain resistant (to puke, piss, shit, or cum). The washer we had at home was barely strong enough to wash the crusties out of Brother Baloney’s underwear. So in order to wash anything larger than a hand towel, we had to go to the Laundromat. [click to continue…]
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