And when she does show back up... hoo boy howdy...

AND IT WILL BE AWESOME.

Ughhh it’s so hard not to spoil anything for the people who haven’t read the books. I tried to type a comment like, 87 times and everything was a hint at future plot. Are they going to keep this show going or are they only covering the first book?

Corollary to that thought: how much is gonna end up on my tits?

My only concern would be, how much of the ice cream will eventually make its way out the end that isn't going into the mouth part of my face?

I've wondered that as well, and I agree with the other poster here who mentioned that this sentiment is an old form of classism from our grandparents' and parents' time. In most of the stories told here, the offending customer who said such a thing is usually portrayed as boomer generation or older.

It's absolutely the best- I've been all over the Caribbean, and you can't beat Jamaica for the beaches, the friendly people and weed.

I'm going to post this again because I was really late to the party last time and I feel like more people need to hear the inadvertent nipple piercing story.

We got married in a friend's barn and spent some time sneaking off into the surrounding vineyards to ... erm ... consummate. I also got drunk enough to insist that I needed some OJ (a JoyScout signature drunk move) and vending-machine hohos at 2 in the morning. The next day, my mother came to pick up my dress for…

My sister told me once about a wedding she went to. The bridesmaids' dresses were sheer, gauzy white, and the front of the church had huge windows filled with sunset. According to her, you could see every detail of those poor girls' underwear, right down to the labels.

Considering the number of replies on this post, I doubt anyone will even see this, which is a shame. Because after more than twenty years of dealing with this sort of thing, there’s one thing that has been very consistent, and it’s something that I wish I had realized in my 20s rather than my 40s.

This wasn't a malfunction exactly but is still a moderately funny wardrobe story.

Well, you know, things do need to be translated into Manglish before men can understand what’s being said.

My former boss was ranting about how a female co-worker had to leave early to pick up her sick child from school. “It’s irresponsible. I have a kid and you don’t see me ever having to go pick her up because she’s sick.”

This happened to me my first week at work, with an older gentleman. I immediately told him to fuck off, I don’t have time for that kind of sexist bullshit. He laughed uproariously, told me I was absolutely correct to call him on it, and from then on we were work-bffs, until he retired last year.

The secret is to with hold crucial information and then if/when they complain you were sabotaging them, say something like 'but I thought YOU had a perfect handle on this, I don't understand how you didn't know that...'

That's my ex-boss to a T. I had to start bringing paper copies of all our (COPIOUS) correspondence to board meetings because his favorite tactic when caught unprepared (happened EVERY meeting) was to blame me for not getting the information to him. Without fail, every time, I had proof that he had been notified. He…

I wouldn't normally say this, because of the pervasiveness of the prison-industrial complex, but plant drugs on his shit. Seriously. Because fuck this guy.