When I was very young, my parents bought the Forehan farm and moved us from Cincinnati to Kentucky. The Forehan brothers Winston and Elmo were our neighbors on both sides of our house, and I met their brother Otis several times. Until today I had no idea they had all served. Very cool Memorial Day find.
The Mexican chef posing as an Asian lost control of his spatula during what can only be described as a griddle based drum solo, flinging it straight at a two year old kid at my table. Kid took it square in the chest without a tear or complaint. I hang with a tough ass crew, yo.
This. Just every goddamned word…
These were the first two tickets I had waiting for me when I got to work today. My coworker told me if the name Voorhees came up he was going to leave before I was murdered.