Why are you a fad?

My parents and I had a little boy, who grew up to be a pretty fad-like creature.

The most famous of his many fads was the “eggplant-based bread” craze, in which he and his friends would buy bread made from his parents’ old eggplant, sprinkle on some eggplant and then fry it up for the whole family to eat.

The idea was that you would be able to make a batch of the bread and eat it, but in reality it was just a big pile of ungrateful shit.

My mother would get all upset and get all angry, but he would still have his little girl do it and he would eat it.

He would get into all sorts of trouble, he would get kicked out of school and have to beg for money to keep himself afloat.

Eventually he went to live with his aunt, who was a very strict vegetarian, and she allowed him to keep his eggplant.

I would never have thought he’d become so popular if he hadn’t had the eggplant in his family.

It was very hard to believe he would turn out this way. 

When I was about six years old, I went to a farm to get some eggplants, but my father, who is an expert in eggs, refused to let me buy them because they were too expensive.

He was so adamant that they were going to cost more than the eggs themselves.

He also wouldn’t let me go to the farmer’s market and buy any fresh eggs.

I never really understood why, until I got older, and realized that he wasn’t really trying to be unfair to me.

He just wanted to keep the price of his own eggs low.

That’s when I became a fan of eggs. 

He didn’t want to spend money on food because it would just ruin the farm, and he also didn’t like spending money on things that weren’t necessary, like food stamps or food stamps for the poor.

When I went back to school, I ended up going to culinary school. 

In high school, my father was my best friend, so I was really close to him, even though we weren’t friends.

I was a big fan of all his recipes.

I remember once I went out with him to a restaurant that he cooked and my mom was there and we were talking about all of his dishes.

I thought it was so hilarious when he mentioned how much he loved his mom and the other people he knew and how he was never able to tell them how much it meant to him. 

The day after he died, I got to go back to my parents house and my dad’s grave marker was there.

It had been moved out of the way a few years ago, but it still had the letters from my childhood home that were still there. 

I couldn’t even remember where I had gotten them.

When my parents died, it felt so surreal.

I didn’t think about them very often, except when I wanted to talk about something, like my sister or my best friends.

But now that I think about it, I remember every day when they were there.

I also remember the days when I could go see them for dinner. 

 It’s hard to explain what a shock it was when I saw the eggplant in my mother’s grave. 

My father was a great man.

He loved his children, loved his country and loved his family, and that was why he loved us all.

My father had his faults, but they were outweighed by the good things he had done for me. 

But then something happened, something that took my father away from me.

The other day I saw a news story about someone who died. 

That’s when my dad had his heart attack, and my brother was there when he died.

I started crying and thinking, “My dad died, my brother died, and I’m not going to be able do anything to honor him.”

I felt really bad.

It’s hard for me to explain, because I’ve never been really close with my father.

But when I heard about the death of my father and my sister, it was like, “Oh my god, I need to stop being the good person in the family.”

I just didn’t feel that way anymore. 

It took me a while to really be open to what my dad was going through.

It took a long time to accept it. 

During the first few years of my adulthood, I didn.

I’d say that my dad loved me, and loved my sister.

I always knew that I was going to have a tough time when I got married, but I was still so used to it by then.

My dad’s last words were, “I’ll be gone soon, but if you want me to be here, come to my funeral.” 

My mom and I went on a camping trip together in our twenties, and one of