I was at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and when their float went by there were people in the audience carrying on like it was Elvis on that goddamn thing. Dude behind me with an accent as Brooklyn as a slice of DiFara's pizza was yelling "PHILLLLL OH MY GOD YOU GUYS IT'S PHILLLLL!!!" I was genuinely baffled. Do…

"Sam, would you play our song, just one more time?"

Check out the main page of jeopardy.com, registration starts there.

Well, their has been commended as strongly vaginal, which bothers some men.

Yeah, that's the question that always comes to my mind with these things (see also: the "Diane" thing at Thanksgiving). Where is the joke here? Why is it excused with "Yeah, it was an asshole thing to do, but it's funny!" How?

Amusing, yet baffling.

Aw, thank you, and a very Merry Christmas to you too, dear.

I'm waiting to find out if we're getting Christmas bonuses this year. At this point, I don't care if it's a membership to the Jelly of the Month Club, I just want something.

Master Sporks is among the chosen, and I give him Hanukkah gifts, and he gives me Christmas gifts. Though I give him Christmas gifts too, because I just like doing it. What I'm trying to say is, yes, go ahead and get her something.

I've seen two wildly different commercials for The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, one that makes it look like a beautiful, Spike Jonze-esque drama about the triumph of the human spirit, and another one in which there was literally a critic's blurb describing it as, yes, "the feel good comedy of the year." The latter…

Happy birthday! Did you grow up with cheap-ass relatives who would give you one gift and declare it both your birthday and your Christmas gift?

I've just been listening to "Holly Jolly Christmas" on repeat all week.

Oh shit, right, cleaning, I have to do that too.

I resolve to stop being such an insecure, procrastinating sack of shit and do something with my writing as well as attempt the artwork that's been calling to me for months now.

And yet trolls seem to be running rampant lately.

Master Sporks: bathrobe, slippers, books (he has pretty conventional tastes)

Happy birthday! Maybe go get a non-happy ending massage?

If you needed proof that Amelie (or whoever is writing this column, I have my doubts it's one person) doesn't read anything else on the website, now you have it.

Salisbury steak in the slow cooker. Unglamorous, lunch lady comfort food, but it wasn't bad.

I know we've moved beyond commenting on TI itself, but ranking holiday gift guides as less tolerable than R. Kelly? Wow. Wow.