Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike

Top Gear, on the SNES. Basic racing game, but it’s the first that I conquered on all difficulties.

Mine loves to play with shoelaces, hair bands, the plastic rings from milk jugs, and hides in cardboard boxes. Heck, I had one that would play fetch with plastic soda bottle caps.

I can’t say it without sounding like a hipster douchebag, but my family was renting A Christmas Story before TBS decided to run marathons of it and kill the magic.

First face I saw? Matthew Lillard.

So those cat-callers on the street are...witch-hunters?

I’m imagining that it’s about sandwiches. And then I laugh. Because sandwiches are not worth this much aggravation.

Don’t worry, everything’s gonna be alright. Here’s 26 channels of Keeping Up With the Kardashians.

*gasps*

Whiskey, neat. Preparing myself for a night out as Jeezy Creezy.

Well, the really cool ones decorated their walls with hubcaps and entrails. Mostly hubcaps, if you lived near the population centers.

It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Ben Carson got his start doing animal husbandry (until the day they caught him at it).

Between this and the nutscaping, there is not enough booze. Anywhere. Ever.

Today, I have learned that constipated = sexy. And that I need to eat more cheese.

Great article.

I blame it on the rain, the bossa nova, that old black magic, and the inextricable threads of happenstance. And me.

Our lord and savior, yes.

or dank memes.

jibblies

Everyone knows The Truth isn’t the truth unless you put it in quotes.