She is wearing the HELL out of that dress. It is not made of meat. Enough said.

I'm not even a big Anderson Cooper fan, but that put a much-needed smile on my face yesterday morning. I bookmarked the big version here [gawker.com] for the same reason.

There is no way I could go without my bathroom mirror. My hair is invariably doing something comical when I wake up, and I like starting my morning with a laugh.

Older men? Ha! I was speaking from the experience of my reckless youth. I'm 44, look about 35, and have more cute 20-something guys hitting on me now than when I was that age. I think somebody has been giving similar advice to young guys.

I promise you I can get laid any time I want... IF I want to get laid by a philandering asshole, a dangerous weirdo, or some desperate fungoid lurkbeast. Unattached, non-psychotic, attractive straight men are fairly difficult to find in bars.

Actually, yes, most of us really are still Neanderthals.

Ah, the not-so-fresh feeling.

This discovery will ANNOY some racists, and probably lead to additional discoveries that prove Neanderthals were intellectually and culturally superior to non-Neanderthals.

Bachmann 2012: Vote for My Vagina! I Can't Be a Misogynist if I Have One, Right, Girls?

Right. And men's penis size is directly correlated to the size of their feet.

"I am not fat, I am not skinny, and fuck people who tell me I should worry about this." Ditto.

Look at the scales. Those babies in the picture weigh nothing at all!

Bristol should not be slut-shamed; she should be stupid-useless-hypocrite-shamed. Then somebody needs to slap that fake chin out, it makes her look even worse.

Definitely "Omnivore's Dilemma," by Michael Pollan. I just read it recently. Pretty appalling in places, but well worth reading.

"It's not my fault you're stupid" would be a good slogan for a tshirt to wear while shopping.

Wide feet suck, it's damn near impossible to find any comfortable shoes, let alone pretty ones that don't feel like a medieval torture device. My childhood years of ballet gave me great legs, but the pointe shoes turned my feet into gnarled masses of bunions, so I feel you.

Me too. If she wasn't complimenting the shirt, she may have been contemplating some Ed Gein style creative taxidermy, and that's just disturbing.

Flesh-eating walking corpses are SUPPOSED to be stomach-turningly nasty. I think the juxtaposition of romance adds a certain light-hearted charm to the ghoulishness.

Mmmm, Christian Dior. I got a 70's vintage Christian Dior jacket made of buttery soft pale grey suede from a thrift shop, and I love it.

My dad also frightened potential suitors with tools. He didn't threaten anybody; on the contrary, he was cordial and friendly. He just somehow always found a reason to putter in the yard doing a bit of shirtless gardening with large, sharp objects when boys came around.