I'd keep it old-school and just make my misbehaving child push a boulder up a hill.

Everytime I hear stories like this it only furthers my belief that the rules for training young children how to behave properly are the same as training a dog.

you should tell them "You know what else keeps it from turning brown? A little squeeze of citrus or leaving the avo pit in the bowl w/ the dip. Or you can just eat it all before it turns. You don't have to poison the well to get clean water"

Chicago is an island amidst a sea of casseroles, even if you guys a) make a weird casserole and call it pizza, and b) put WAY too much shit on your hot dogs.

I hope that poor boy was okay after his parents insisted on him eating that food even though it had gluten in it.

I love how they just get worse. I showed a few to my hubs and he was so mortified. Mostly just "they wanted you to put Lysol in your vagina?!? Why not up the ante and Pinesol that shit."

So at this place, everything tastes like ham?

I used to talk to fire hydrants. I thought they were people for some reason. Even had full on arguments with a few of them.

Tiny town, just moved there, and we lived in one of those neighborhoods that sprang up after WWII, but across the street was a beautiful old brick house covered in vines. It made me think of Wuthering Heights. It was a quiet house. Someone would show up weekly to take care of the lawn and gardens, which is how I…

Oh, I'm sure they would disagree >.> (I live in Missouri)

...It's...not about you?

Fine, xenophobic is over the top, my apologies. But I just don't get why this story is dripping with such hate for people from the Midwest. Hate on cheap people who don't tip. I get that part of the stereotyping is because some asshole left a picture of Jesus instead of a tip (which is a really, really crappy thing…

You monsters...

"Well, maybe I will come to your country then. And eat all of your bread!"

I don't TRY to do it, but if I have to poop at a guys house (or if he's at mine) I poop. I figure if he can't handle me pooping/knowing that I poop etc he probably doesn't deserve to see me naked.

I have about five true "ghost" stories, and all of them suck. No flaming eyeballs, no rolling heads, no faceless children jumping out from the storage closet under the stairs. This one is a two-parter, and the parts are probably only as related as mud and water:

My mother comes from the Isle of Man, which is about halfway between England and Ireland. There's a place called the Fairy Bridge and it's considered wise to greet the fairies when you're passing it, or they might get angry with you and you don't want that. When Mum was about 10, she had a girl friend from England who…

IM SO EXCITED