On charming bartenders and liquor taxes
I just found out that my future city, Little Rock, Arkansas, charges a 10 percent alcohol tax on mixed drinks in hotels, motels, restaurants, and bars. I found this out while drinking margaritas (per usual) with my mom at a taco restaurant. Four margs later between the two of us, we had racked up a $9.90 liquor tax. Dope. It's not that I'm super into drinking. I mean, I am 22 so it's still relatively fun to go to a bar and not have to undergo the extreme anxiety, sweating and
part-time weatherman
Last Wednesday night my dad and I sat on the steps of our front porch watching a storm roll in, as Missourians do. While the wind picked up and the temperature dropped, I found out just how much my dad has learned about storms. My dad is something like a storm expert. He installed a storm tracker in our laundry room that beeps like all hell got loose when a storm is near, much to our chocolate lab’s dismay. My dad has the radar app on his phone and is always quick to shoot us


An ode to Barbara Jean
Some may look at her and see a run-down chunk of metal. I look at her and see the 70,000 miles we spent together, the quality singing time, the near-death experiences, the people who have sat in the passenger seat next to me. My first car was a fiery little number named Ruby. She had all the bells and whistles and I had her a grand total of eight months. I got t-boned on 32nd street by a lady that sued me for not being able to perform sexual acts for her husband on account of