they already named #1 George.... #2 should be Richard, definately.

Yes, she slipped and fell into his closed fist, then backwards into the elevator wall. Clearly she's partially at fault for getting knocked out by her fiancé.

No, you stupid fuck. Look up "abuse victim."

And then go fuck yourself. Fuck you.

uh, Erin, sometimes they wear pink gloves for breast cancer awareness so who's the REAL lady-hater, huh.

The police also stopped patrolling around the time Kosminski was institutionalized. They knew it was him and sure enough the killings abruptly stopped. This was always the theory that made the most sense. People are just disappointed because the killer being a random impoverished and mentally ill man is just not as…

BE the taco! BE IT!

I didn't watch the original ending, so I'm just going to go with this one and assume that's how it happened all along.

IT'S A BISCUIT THAT WANTS TO BE A TACO!!!! How dare you shame his noble struggle!

Let me get this straight: So when I fold my laundry, I'm not making laundry tacos? And when I bend over and touch my toes, I'm not a taco? How am I not a taco?

I just rolled my eyes so hard they got stuck up inside my head. I need emergency medical attention but I obviously can't see and my phone is dead (fucking piece of shit iPhone 5 battery). I'm in a McDonalds off of I-94 just east of the Indiana/Illinois border. PLEASE HURRY!

Letter Writer #1 makes me want to fucking SCREAM. It's bad enough running into that (literally running into it, with your bare ass) in public restrooms, but in your HOME? What fucking year is this? How fucking old are you and what's the last grade you completed? How are you so convinced you're going to get some kind…

You had me at queso. Actually, you had me at forearms, but you REALLY had me at queso. I would like to heartily second those turn ons.

My biggest turn on is baseball style T-shirts on men. I don't know what it is, but I cannot handle it. I think it looks so good.

Happy trails. Man sweat. Speaking in a foreign language. Juggling a soccer ball. Driving safely. Knowing how to start a fire. A well placed curse word. The band of a guy's boxers sticking out slightly from the waistline of his jeans. Shirt sleeves rolled up to the forearms. Assuming I want queso and ordering it…

Finally, the first legitimate chance that Pissing Contest could win Pissing Contest.

I AM SO SCARED RIGHT NOW

Done and done. Thank's Erin!

Unrelated, anyone want to hangout tonight at the graveyard? I'm feeling... thirsty.

Yes, my favorite is the one where he calls me unstable, in between photo bouquets and imaginary trips to Paris.

Lindy, I'm sure you won't see this because god knows if I were you I wouldn't wade into the comments section ever, but just know that I love you, love your work, and really credit you with explaining shit in really effective terms to me, someone who was very much a novice on everything when she started reading Jez.…