Mr. Watras asked me whether I was practicing, and I told him I was practicing my tissue basketball skills.

You look like a handsome young man…although you might want to zip your fly. Mom! What? Should I have not told you and left it for everyone else to notice at the dance?

But nobody ever tells you in advance when you should concentrate on the good times-that's why you're supposed to do it every day.

It's amazing--my parents call everything a discussion. If I were standing across the street, firing a bazooka at my mother, while my father was launching mortar back at me, and Jeffery was charging down the driveway with a grenade in his teeth, my parents would say we should stop having this public "discussion".

I dove on those papers like Sherlock Holmes on a cappuccino binge.

Did you really JUST fall, Jeffrey? Why does everybody in my family talk in these dramatic CAPITAL LETTERS all the time? Why am I the only calm one?

Mr. Watras asked me whether I was practicing, and I told him I was practicing my tissue basketball skills.