RubySububi
RubySububi
RubySububi

For sure. When I was an undergrad in the mid-Cretaceous, one of the dimmer bulbs on the floor hung a strip of raw bacon on the doorknob of one of his many frenemies, thinking that because the bacon-ee was Jewish, this would be hilarious. The recipient of the gift (who did not keep kosher, and AFAIK occasionally ate

A friend actually had her bachelorette party at a local paintery-drinkery, and I have to admit it was a lot of fun. Still have the painting adorning one of my bookcases.

This is why guns on college campuses scare the bejesus out of me. A bunch of people whose brains are pupating, trying to deal with romantic rejections, difficult roommates, unexpectedly low grades, overindulgence in surreptitious boozing, and all the other parts of the college experience that don’t always work out for

I hope the editorial writer told him to shove it up his Kirby Delauter.

The fanciest chocolate bars I actually like are Green & Black’s high-cacao milk chocolate. But now that they’re approaching $4 a bar, I usually get something less upscale. I avoid Hershey’s because I don’t like the boiled-milk aftertaste, but I’ve had supermarket-brand high-cacao milk chocolate that I thought was just

I think Hersheys boils the bejesus out of the milk they use in their candy. It really does have a nasty sour aftertaste.

It’s a perfectly good hoodie, and it’s not the hoodie’s fault that a creepy smarmy no-good slime-assed sleazebag fuckwad douchenozzle shit-for-brains crook is wearing it.

PJs are perfect for doing laundry and dishes and price gouging and securities fraud while hitting on teenagers online!

This reminded me of the pertinent verse of “The FCC Song” by Eric Idle:

For some reason, I now want to see some Anne Geddes shots of balding, sixtysomething Wall Street CEOs dressed up as carrots and bumble bees. Preferably with their suits and ties still on as well.

I’ve been co-washing with good old 99-cent-a-bottle VO5 for years. It works great for two things: Rinsing pool water out of my hair (because I swim too often to shampoo my near-sexagenarian, salon-colored hair every time), and smoothing out my cowlicks in the shower when it’s been too soon since the last time to use

I would try it once. But then again I consider frosting/icing a dessert in its own right. Screw the cake and pie and bring on that awesome fat and sugar combo!

That was the best, sanest response I can imagine to a family member’s death under those conditions. Dying slowly from depression and drug abuse is horrific. I feel bad for Weiland, his wife, his ex-wife, and his kids, and I hope they’re able to hold on to whatever happy memories they have of him.

Ugh. I’ve been following this story closely for a class that I’m taking. Lamar Smith is an idiot, of course, but the whole Republican side of the House Science, Space, and Technology Committee is stacked with denialists, and poor Eddie Bernice Johnson (the ranking Democrat) has to deal with this shit constantly.

I usually manage to subdue my expressions of sentiment about these things, but I’m utterly shocked by what they did to their baby, and to the family members who are going to be reviled (probably without foundation) for what their son and daughter-in-law did. How do you tell a child that her parents chose to murder

My guess is that they were doing a combination of the Tsarnaev brothers and Harris and Klebold; messing with jihadi websites, firing themselves up with well-armed but unfocused anger, and then deciding that shooting up his workplace was just as good as any other target.

I miss Marsala. Best lipstick color on me by far, though I rarely wear lipstick now.

My wild-ass guess: Disgruntled employee (probably also disgruntled with other parts of his life); gets entangled with jihadi or other extremist websites; imagines himself to be a freedom fighter because it sounds better than “hotheaded loser pissed off at the world”; decides to “show them all”, enlists or forces wife

I’ve done it three times. One of the great things about being old and married is that I’ll never have to do it again.

I’m a straight woman who wouldn’t have sex with Brad Pitt, but would with Johnny Galecki. I think that makes me a nerd.