Decades before caveman diets were all the rage, little Laura learned her allergy was deadly serious. The worst part was that few understood a crumb could kill her.
No one else wanted the chaotic kitten with the peeing problem. I had no idea how much I needed her.
It’s every teenage boy’s dream, right?
As a dorky ten-year-old politico, visiting the White House was the thrill of my childhood. But I still want my special pen back from Bubba.
The medical community is alarmed by a surge in cases of the debilitating Guillain-Barré Syndrome. Back when I got it, no one had any idea what was wrong with me.
A manic mishap between my conniving cat and a cast-iron bathroom radiator left me naked, bleeding and frantically contemplating chopping off poor Jambo’s cute and puny paw.
At four years old, my daughter starting shaking uncontrollably, sending us on a 14-year roller-coaster ride from sorrow to frustration to coping to control. It wasn’t until the seizures finally stopped that we both realized how much epilepsy had shaped us.
The calls for help came day and night from the group home for troubled children in Yolo County. But the response was too little and too late.
Twenty-five years ago, one of the most popular holiday presents around was a little piece of communist tyranny wrapped up in a capitalist bow.
In the summer of 1741, the crew of a secret Russian expedition spotted something off the southern coast of Alaska, and a nautical legend was born.
How one enterprising artist turned a fascination with flea penises into the world’s foremost collection of creepy crawly private parts.