So I'm telling my sister the story of this weekend, complete with gory details, when my dad says from the bottom of the stairs, "Hey Devon, you know I'm standing right here, right?"

Sometimes, I hate my life.

What the world would do with treadmills

What would you write if you had to write a letter just before you knew you were going to die?

Today is 7/29, our "official" troop day.

The most unfortunate series of events resulted in cutting the camping trip short. My head is still spinning, to the point where I can't even describe what happened.

It's bad, I suppose, but more absurd than anything.

Why us?