Word: dad
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...product of a mixed marriage. My father has an unlined face and thick, curly salt-and-pepper hair in his 70s. My mother--well, let's just say that when she comes to visit, the kids hide the broomstick and the big cooking pot. She tells folks my dad married her for her legs and her fortune. Coincidentally, these are the only two of her attributes she did not pass along...
...both personality and fighting styles, plus a healthy dose of family psychodrama. Mayweather grew up fighting in Grand Rapids, Mich., where his father, Floyd Sr., taught him how to punch in his stroller. When Floyd was a year old, his mother's brother pulled a gun on his dad. "I told him, 'If you're going to kill me, you're going to kill him too,'" says Mayweather Sr., who was holding his son. "'That's all I got in the world.'" Honoring Mayweather family values, the uncle then shot Floyd...
...neared the rear of the aircraft, it distinctly seemed like the number of “undesirable” passengers (think: old men who fart, women with dogs, etc.) was increasing exponentially. Then in the very back, I saw what frightened me beyond comprehension: a (very) young dad with not one, but TWO, (very) young toddlers, the three of whom were occupying not only 24D and F, but most of E as well. As I squeezed myself between them, navigating a backpack, stuffed Elmo toys, and even a two-year-old climbing over my lap to get his ninja sword...
...mean, of course I would have preferred the window seat in an exit row, but that day on the airplane proved to me that my Harvard skepticism sometimes controls my life. Every once and a while things suck, and the prospect of sitting in the middle seat between a dad and two babies certainly did suck. But things could have been a lot worse—I mean, Kurt could have been the obese father of triplets trying to squeeze into two seats. And it’s not like I was flying to a war-torn country...
...steal the balloons attached to every car on the lot. The tune itself isn’t earth-shatteringly original, but it’s the sort of bouncy song that makes you want to be five years old again, dancing around in the living room with your dad. The lyrics don’t match the bubbly melody. They have nothing to do with Australia—they’re all about frustration with a dead-end life. McCormick apparently couldn’t resist the juxtaposition of Mercer’s lines “Been alone...