I still can't see the difference, so I'm going to have to take your word for it!

Am I a crisis pregnancy center worker or does that thing have a dick?

Okay, but what's in the second picture?

I mean, maybe something from Alien or Prometheus would look like that on an ultrasound. I'M NOT A DOCTOR.

Something about Rick Solomon's assertion that Pam Anderson begged him and other men to impregnate her, only to turn around and terminate the pregnancies, rings a leeeeeeetle false. It's not impossible, but it sounds very unlikely, or at least falls far short of the "whole story". Also, he sounds like a raging…

For reference:

I had a full-on, snot running down my face ugly cry when I was pregnant when I realized I would never have a blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby. I've never wanted a blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby particularly, but when I realized the combination of my and my husband's genes could never produce that, I had a meltdown.

I tried making a pair of pants once. "Pattern?" said I, "Who needs a pattern for pants? Not I!"

slipping and gliding over smooth conversational rocks, I silently nod in assent over my agreement with your willowy commentary. leave rustle, a subtle whisper. what's that? a gif silently dancing for no one.

I'm still going to maintain that the best thing is to avoid sticking your hand in a deep fryer in the first place. Hash brown be damned!

I am on bath salts right now.

I have a feeling the missing pieces of this Naomi-Cara story are a couple big, fat lines of cocaine.

By what?

Oops, conflated your son with the girl he worked with.

I am staggered by how awful people can be. I had a woman scream and curse at me over a 59-cent overcharge when I was a cashier at Lowe's. It was Labor Day weekend and there was a line for each register almost to the back of the store. What she didn't know was that my dad had died in an accident two weeks before, and I…

He probably got a nice lump sum of cash not to sue (even though, Jesus Christ, man, you stuck your hand in a fryer! You. Stuck. Your. Hand. In. A. Fryer.) and he was probably riding high on that $2000 for a few weeks.

That is brilliant. Sometimes fear is the only effective parenting technique.

It is only maternal love that stops you from dropping your toddler off in a basket on a neighbor's doorstep when they bite you in the ass. Well, that, and they wouldn't stay in a basket for three seconds.

I worked the drive thru at McDonald's as a teenager. I was the perky, "Have a super day!" girl on staff that I'm sure everyone hated. I'm positive they were staring at my back, silently wishing the swift and inevitable crushing weight of adulthood on my chipper demeanor. Who could blame them?