Running around the apartment making airplane noises and then giggling hysterically. I still do this when my fiancee is out of town.

THOSE. FUCKING COUGARS. FUCK THEM. AND THE WOLVES. FUCKING WOLVES.

This sounds like me while watching family feud.

GRANDMA'S DICK

Inserting my cat's name into songs that I'm singing along to. "All The Scouty ladies! All the Scouty ladies!" "My Scoutaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun!" "Last Scout. Last Scout. For Scooooout." And since Kate Bush was mentioned, "Running up that Scout! Running up that Scooooout. With no Scoutleemmms"

Hmm... is joke?

Don't you mean #FISTworldproblems? I'll see myself out (slams door).

Ah, the Spruce Møøse, the kind of cognac that would bite your sister.

I'd keep it old-school and just make my misbehaving child push a boulder up a hill.

I already had a FB friend bemoan the lack of separation of church and state... And then go on to say that this country was founded on Christian principles. #confusion I'm looking hard for a pot for her to piss in, but I'm coming up short.

Was with my now inlaws and a group of their friends at a nice restaurant in London. I was very young and I'm pretty sure that trip was the first time we had met. I ordered a "martini, dry". When my drink came I took a sip and almost spit it out. I was not prepared for the language barrier that led me to being served a…

Well, the developer's ostensibly a dude, so MRAs are less likely to scream death and rape threats at him.

I was at my wife's company Christmas party, which was '20s themed (of course) and had a fair number of bars at it. My first drink, I ordered an Old Fashioned to stay with the theme. The bartender made it perfectly. So for my second drink, I went back to the same bartender and got another well-made drink.

My great-uncle used to drink Perfect Manhattans, and had this happen so many times that he got cards printed up that told how to make them, and he handed them out to bartenders.

Did the bartender also towel off your "dry" red wine?

I once had a dude-bro bartender condescendingly respond to my standard martini order, "Kettle martini, up, extra dry, olives," with "my, that's a lot of explanation for one drink." No, dipshit, that's how you order a martini. It's a pretty basic martini—but some weirdos like gin and vermouth—blerg.

When I was bartending for a summer (complete failure overall) I had a guy ask for a perfect manhattan. I was floored at first because that was the first time in two months that anyone had ordered anything other than beer, but after my initial shock I apologized to the man because we didn't have the materials to make…

Also, is this *not* the sweatshop system? It's not like we have any way of checking the working conditions, coercion, or abuse in these places. The grand old tradition of the British workhouse was supposed to be an alternative to prostitution, too.

How does the money get to these women? What are the working conditions? How much are they paid per item? How do we know they're even making the items in question? I applaud anyone who is trying to help people but making them sew pajamas isn't the answer.