She loves sushi. You hate sushi. But right now—in the face of this grave discussion—you’re willing to make concessions. Besides, she’s your daughter and since the SCOTUS stripped her—and millions of other American women—of the basic human right to privacy over their own bodies, nothing has been palatable anyway. READ MORE
While listening to the cacophony of jackhammers as the city installs sewers on my street[1], futilely attempting to finish a sentence amidst the pounding outside my house, I’m reminded why I prefer the night. READ MORE
For all eternity, I’ll absorb the sensory images of the ballpark—the slap of the baseball, leather-on-leather, as it hits the catcher’s mitt; the solid crack of the bat on a gapper to left-center; linseed oil and freshly sheared grass and peanut shells on the concrete beneath the bleacher seats. READ MORE
Tom Cruise reprises his role as Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, the pompous fighter pilot who has remarkably exhibited zero-character growth or accumulated any life wisdom while whizzing into middle age and remaining “the fastest man alive.” Wee. READ MORE
The first thing that caught my eye was three people standing in the far-right corner of the room, where one woman stood in a crucifixion pose while a middle-aged woman and a thin man with a thick graying Jerry Garcia-beard were scanning their hands over her like TFA agents at an airport. READ MORE
And just like that, in a hyperbolic blink, my daughter Paige has finished her first year of college and moved her belongings[1] back into her childhood bedroom. READ MORE
The Captain I know passed away on Sunday morning at age 48 after battling pancreatic cancer. He fought valiantly, but let’s be real: cancer is a motherfucker, and pancreatic is one of the worst. The Captain was my first cousin Jaime’s husband and my good friend, and I already miss him. But I don’t want this to be sullen or maudlin. The Captain would kick me square in the Richard if he knew I made this sullen or maudlin. READ MORE
On Thursday, May 5—a manufactured “Mexican” holiday that gives amateur drunks an excuse to get sloshed on watery margaritas and warm Coronas—I encountered said crowds in downtown Manchester during the city’s Taco Tour and I freaked out. My social anxiety swelled like a broken toe, then I had to go. READ MORE
Like a prepubescent moth falling in love with an illuminated bulb, I knew—in the marrow of my bones—that I’d found my calling with my Nintendo. But it wasn’t until my parents purchased “Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out” for my 12th birthday[3] that I would actualize my role in the universe. READ MORE
Click here to join the growing list of InkLink Community Ad Partners who, like us, are mission driven and believe in building community.
Copyright (c) 2022 Manchester Ink Link. All rights reserved. Site by Manon Etc