It's super, goddamnit.

6. Soupspoon. Dip the spoon into the soup, moving it away from the body, until it is about two-thirds full, then sip the liquid, without slurping, from the side of the spoon without inserting the whole spoon into the mouth. This prevents soup from being spilled onto your clothes.

Damn you, Miss.

That reminds me of a case where my paper covered a story on a local high school's broadcasting program and my staff noticed how so many of the photographed kids looked like something out of a 1979 yearbook.

The more arrogant look I could find:

It's more like 80's Blond Bully.

"It's kinda like Duran Duran, sort of."

It's comfort music for a lot of people: inoffensive lyrics, no abstract artistic statements, subjects that are simple enough for many to relate to ("I've got friends in low places"), and instrumentation that's easy on the ears (well, sometimes).

Was it this video?

Aw man, he was drunk off his arse in that interview:

"It looks like it may be a terrible tragedy."

Strange, Drew Carey told the world that Cleveland is an awesome town where everyone dances in the streets after work on Fridays.

I was going to say. His film even begins in Israel where he stands at the ground zero of where the Apocalypse is supposed to happen.

I'm getting a "What do mean you don't like my fucking deviled eggs? Huh, we're out of wine?" Thanksgiving vibe from her.

I'm digging the Flapper Trashed on Bathtub Gin setup.

Whatever you do kids, just don't mix Bacardi 151 with Red Bull.

"I can't help reaching my grim conclusion despite the fact that, statistically, there's never been a better time to be a human, or a woman in a developed nation."

I'm old enough to remember when the AIDS epidemic arose, when scientists feared that a huge hole in the Ozone Layer would scorch the planet to a crisp by…

I just hope that our descendants don't have a zest for Brawndo:

You're doing better than me. It took me just three measly beers to inspire me to dance to Janet Jackson during a Jackson vs. Prince night at a SF club.

Hey now, the Collisions were awesome snacks to scarf down after a night of guzzling whiskey. As for the Jacked, I'll just say that my half-eaten bag has been sitting in my office's refrigerator for three weeks.

Now I'm hungry for a sourdough slice smeared with lox.