I pointed this out to my boyfriend with the Russian-taken photos earlier this week. The orange has been replaced with a tomato.

My mother has peculiar tastes in beverages. She didn’t drink a drop of alcohol in my entire childhood. She can barely handle the smell of coffee, let alone the taste. She thinks tea is repulsive. Milk grosses her out, and any sort of fruit juice makes her break out in cold sores. The well water at my parent’s house…

I do like the cut of your gib. That’s some excellent snacking.

While I want him to step down because of his diminished mental facilities, I also fear it at the same time. I fear that the move will be gently applauded with a golf clap, and people will say he’s so brave and bringing awareness to the disease on a level never seen before.

Worse yet: he says an economics phrase to a writer for The Economist.

Stewed rhubarb?! Hooooo shit.

Oh, I forgot about the cranberry! That one is acceptable, in part because nothing is more satisfying—nothing!—than cutting it. I admittedly spend waaaay too much time cutting it into perfect little squares before I eat each bite.

The silicon dioxide just reminded me that when I switched to a local brand for my flour tortillas (this is one of the things I just don’t make on my own. I love handmade flour tortillas, but they do not hold well). There was a big, bold statement in the upper corner: “CONTAINS NO ALUMINUM!” Jeebus, what?! Aluminum?! Al…

Thanks for doing the work for me! I don’t know why I didn’t think to check the internet, especially when I’ve checked for other ingredient lists on other items. Duh.

THANKSGIVING?! THANKSGIVING?!

I also live about two miles from work as well. The company has noticed that we are just a few months from outgrowing our office and will need to move. The CEO’s current dream location would turn my 8 minute commute into a 30-40 minute on a summer’s day with no accidents to back up traffic. I live somewhere that gets…

Hooray! I’m glad to hear that!

I’m a graphic designer and this was my first thought as well.

You’re right! Never not worth it.

I can’t remember the last time I went to a family function that didn’t have at least one expired bottle of salad dressing. Ugh.

At least you grew up loving your mom’s chili! I didn’t have a broad palette in my growing years, but I knew that my dad’s was just...wrong. Now it’s essentially inedible to me.

I did not know that Chrissy, my queen, did this! Gawd, I love that woman.

I used to put Dinty Moore beef stew over toast as a kid!

As my dad’s parents were small-town midwestern farmers born in the 1930s with large families...yeah, trailer-park isn’t too far off.

This is what I tell people who look horrified when I mention it, but they assure me that it sounds far more disgusting than cheese on pie. They’re wrong.