She puts the “T. Rex” in Valtrex!

She’s faking it.

She would have done this sooner, but she was on her Cretaceous Period.

“I went to the ball game today. I did a basket.”

/sadly whistles “Roundball Rock”

“What have you seen that made you nauseous with shame and embarrassment?”

“What a silly Negro!”

[fist bump of solidarity]

I do have a monthly “grooming ritual” so that my wife doesn’t mistake me for Sasquatch.

Oh, heck no. One use and into the hamper it goes.

Hair, face, armpits, butt/crotchal region, and feet. End of list. The torso and limbs get incidentally clean, and my legs are a couple of hairy bastards.

Thirty years later and it’s still relevant...

I don’t feel tardigrade.

It’s very likely that my ancestors were among these soldiers, being fresh-off-the-boat Irish immigrants who were happy to eat anything that wasn’t a disease-ridden potato. And they were conscripted into the Union army for $5 and a bottle of whiskey.

OK, then. Let’s get some Monte Cristos. I’m hungry.

I’ll not have you disparage the Monte Cristo, sir/madam!

And here I am bitching about my heartburn all day. God damn, what a terrible way to go.

Hell, yes. No further questions.

You know when you’re sitting on a chair, and you lean back so you’re just on two legs, and you lean too far so you almost fall over but at the last second you catch yourself?

There is only one right way to wear sweatpants...