This does nothing to explain why she looks directly in my eye with an expression that clearly says “guess what I’m about to do, bitch?” before she knocks things over.

They’re probably in some sort of fucking exotic breeds union / mafia joint with no show contracts and everything.

If there’s a way, she’ll find it.

And yet this freeloading leech hasn’t brought in a dime in 5 years.

I approve of Steve Buscemi dog.

"We're family for the rest of our lives, we have a beautiful baby and we love making wine. We'll continue doing it."

Ok, but wait: does this new NeNe / Kim show mean no more "Don't Be Tardy..."? Because I am WEIRDLY invested in that family.

And when they do, the screen is frozen in the middle of like a sixth season episode of FRIENDS with that judgemental "ARE YOU STILL THERE?" message on it.

All the generation designations are bullshit, though — baby boomers are apparently anyone born between 1946 and 1964. SO: my father (1948) is technically in a different generation than his late brother (1944) BUT the same generation as that brother's son (1964).

But have you SEEN the annoying child?

And they have a lot of sizes readily available that are hard to find in department stores and VS doesn't even MAKE. Loooove them.

Oh my fucking god, is there any way I can get my Arizonan birth reversed so my mother can re-have me in a less fucking ridiculous state???

I was SO FURIOUS that production cut the reprise after they put it over so well. (one of many things I was SO FURIOUS about with that movie).

He's really the best guy ever. If we hadn't had absolute 0 sexual chemistry, I would've locked that shit down.

Barf. I've only met one grown man ever who wears his class ring daily without being a massive wanker.

Can we talk accessories too? Because what the hell kind of ugly ass ring is this?

I want to hang out with her and have bottle service and maribou and dancing boys.

Their loss — I would have driven out to the suburbs to eat at Top Fucker Chicken. Charcoal Chicken? Feh.

Satera is the least mysterious part — his stepfather's last name was Soetero, which dipshits have been consistently unable to spell despite wanting to make hay out of the fact that Obama appears to have used it at some points during his childhood.

My Siamese plays fetch too! And she's only 8 lbs, but she's taken out two house mice at our old apartment (and then covered one of them up with a tote bag, because she's a lady. Which, unfortunately, meant it was a day or two before I found it. RIP, mouse. RIP, tote bag).