My gramma just told me the best fucking story

When my gramma was in her early twenties (this was early 1950’s), she dated this guy named Larry and he was like SUPER FINE. One night after dinner Larry took my gramma to this bar where there was gonna be kind of a burlesque show type thing. She thought it was kinda strange that a guy she was dating would take her to something like that but whatever, she’s an adventurous lady.
So this blonde dancer comes out and starts her routine and she was super good and really gorgeous. Gramma’s impressed. But then Blondie comes over to Gramma and Larry and ruffles Larry’s hair like she knows him really well or something, so Gramma’s like ???????
Anyway the dancer ended her routine by taking off her bra and revealing that she was a drag queen. Gram says to Larry, “Okay that was cool and stuff but why did you show me this?”
Larry says, “That’s my brother.”
My gramma’s boyfriend brought her to see his brother’s drag show for like their third date.

Never Sleeping Again, Part 12


Ronan was waiting on the steps leading up to the St. Agnes apartment when Adam woke up. Actually, Ronan was dozing. After leaving Litchfield House and returning to Monmouth Ronan had spent the rest of the night worrying, moving from bed to window to kitchen until finally he went outside and laid down in the backseat of the BMW. He had managed to sleep for about an hour and woke up to the first chirps of the songbirds announcing the dawn. Too nervous to eat, Ronan had driven to St. Agnes and had installed himself on Adam’s steps and waited. And waited. He had tried to keep his mind free of anxiety, concentrating instead on the few pictures that Adam had sent to him. He waited. And then he slept.

“Have you been out here all night?”

Ronan jerked awake and looked up to find Adam Parrish standing on the step above him, his lanky legs bare and…so much skin! Ronan blushed a bright red and turned away. Adam chuckled and moved down the steps to sit beside him. Ronan snuck another glance. Apparently Adam slept in short, green plaid boxers and a stretched out shirt composed mostly of holes. Ronan started mentally conjugating in Latin because the universe was testing him and he was losing.

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                              A Camp Counselor’s Blessing

     May your heart remain wild, even though you spend 9 months in the city.

        May you remember the joy, and why you became a camp counselor.

           May you always have a clean pair of socks & a comfy sweatshirt.

      May you fires burn bright, your night skies stay clear, and your compass
                                                 point you true.

                                       May you always stand tall.

                         And may you never forget the magic of camp.