Don't Press The Red Button

Some families are plagued by stunning good looks. Some families suffer the dreadful condition of being too rich. Some families (*cough* *cough* Kardashians ) have enough drama to fill a reality T.V. Show. My family? Well, my family lacked all previously mentioned situations, and as such, had to find our fame elsewhere. Thus, the two-legged, soon to be one-legged, chicken was bought, and the pen and paper came out. With the rednecked, turtle-poking neighbors and vengeful raccoons, it was time for our family to enter the spotlight, using the one talent we were blessed with: making memories. But let's face it.

Failures make the best stories.

And, when being related to the Dale family, if there was one thing we were familiar with, it was failure.

And so, each chapter comprises of an individual passage of truth, featuring my Nicholas-Sparks sister Johanna, my big-foot hunting father, my saintly mother of a psychologist, my conspiracist brother Richard (don't even think about the common nickname--He's six feet of solid muscle) , my seven-going-on-eighty years sister Kallie, the sister Mickey, who possessed a death fear of sharks despite the fact we live hundreds of miles from any ocean, and of course myself, Bobby, the female with the male name, though everyone called me BB.