They served Good Food but only a G, an O and a D were lit up. Personally, I doubted God dined there. Unless God was keen on samonella poisoning and rat droppings in the hamburgers. But then again, wha...
No, I wanna go kick puppies, she retorted.
My meeting with my alimentatore was at noon,
That’s the bittersweet part of being a mom. You slather on all that love and attention so that your kids will grow up strong, confident, and self-sufficient. And if you’ve done your job right, you’ve...
Once upon a time, I’d thought demon-hunting was hard. But that was before I’d become a mom. Trust me. In comparison to parenting, stalking and killing demons is a piece of cake.
I love it when my justifications for avoiding housework are actually legitimate.
Can I just say that dying sucks? All that bullshit about seeing the light and having this inner peace, blah, blah, blah. It's crap.
Distract him? What the hell was I supposed to do? Strip naked and do the hula?
Opened the vial of holy water and dumped it in with the wipes. I could practically see the ad campaign: Blessed be your baby’s bottom … Now with Aloe!
They weren't wearing their handy-dandy I'm an Evil Demon T-shirts; nevertheless, I could tell they were coming for me.
I mean, really. Who needs Pilates when you’ve got a town full of demons?
What? Look at my newly mutilated flesh? Screw you!
Fuck you. I countered, demonstrating my keen skill at argument.