Bookstore people are crazy. I worked at a Half Price Books in the Midwest and due to the insane number of serialized romance novels we received, we started packing them into stacks of 7 and selling them together for 2 bucks. We called them Love Bundles, and there was a group of about 25 mid-fifties women who purchased…

See above.

And then there is this, my second-favourite picture of all time. A picture of such sublime, ecstatic absurdity that it really ought to be hanging in the National Portrait Gallery for future generations of Britons to appreciate and revere. I love it so.

So... are the gossip rags trying to make it look like Sandra’s dude cheated on his ex w/ her? Because sometimes people just move on fast. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sandra’s boyfriend has good taste in ex-girlfriends. She’s adorable.

I’m with you on all of these except the bonefolder. as a book-making enthusiast, I will vouch for the bonefolder. makes a HUGE difference especially when working with cardstock. and if you’re folding a shit ton of paper (like name cards + programs for 100 people) also, they’re like $2 at michaels.

tralalalalallalalalla if I can trick my dad into thinking I've been knocked up yet again, it will all be worth it.

Is there ever a reason not to?!?!?!

Only if you send them a card with this quote by Mussolini: "At last, we have buried the putrid corpse of liberty!"

I didn't have imaginary friends, I had imaginary animals. I would insist on giving "invisible" animals as gifts to friends of my parents. The recipients all accepted my "gifts" of magical invisible benevolent animals with complete sincerity.

Tiny town, just moved there, and we lived in one of those neighborhoods that sprang up after WWII, but across the street was a beautiful old brick house covered in vines. It made me think of Wuthering Heights. It was a quiet house. Someone would show up weekly to take care of the lawn and gardens, which is how I…

I have two that come to mind:

Not me, but my daughter became consumed with horses around age 4. She liked to gallop around and neigh, and would not answer to me in public unless I called her by the horse name she chose for herself..."Whitey."

A couple years after the banana-stabbing phase, I graduated to the next step in sexual self-discovery where I would think about the kid from Jungle2Jungle's nipples (not the rest of him, just his nipples) while laying on and making out with a faux-sheepskin rug in the "only-for-guests" living room.

I was a pretty weird kid, but a lot of those stories aren't funny-weird as much as signs of impending emotional disturbances.

I used to dress bananas up as "ladies" (this was achieved by scotch taping tissues around tip of the banana) and then steal a needle out of my grandmother's sewing kid and use it to poke holes into the banana stem. It made me feel SUPER excited, in a sort of proto-sexual way. I was about 6 or 7 when I did this, and as…

Once, in a fit of drunken derring-do, at the height of Riverdance mania, I convinced an entire bar in France that I was an accomplished Irish step dancer. I've never taken a lesson in my life.

Sometimes I feel like lies don't count as lies when the truth is nobody's business anyway.

You just need to send the following emojis, in this exact order: bb gun, neck pillow, B&B, prison door, infinity sign, wedding cake.

From the Rent-A-Swag "Resort Ringbearer 2015" Collection