My friend's dog is afraid of her own farts.

I'd much rather not get any. I've decided that wearing a condom is a requirement for sex. Somebody who doesn't listen to or respect that requirement probably isn't going to listen to or respect other boundaries.

I know that kitty! She was adopted last week (any way we could swap in a picture of somebody who's still available at the Richmond SPCA or another shelter?)

Can this turn into the thread about those hip/stomach muscles? It's like they're saying, "Follow me to adventure!"

I can do lots of things—the problem is that none of them pay well (or at all).

If I can have a go at it, you know how you'll clean up the house and offer food/drinks to company? But eventually your friends kind of stop being company, so you'll just clear off the table? And once they're your good friends, you assume they've seen worse and you're just going to watch TV?

So, PP is like Black Friday? They lure you in with the big ticket items like abortions, but then maybe once you're in there you decide to get a breast exam and pick up a few condoms?

$2500?! Around here the Monument Ave 10k gives you the option to raise money for Massey Cancer Center, but it's optional. And this year I got discounted registration for being willing to go to my local YMCA and tell them I'm poor.

I am trying to teach! Right now I've got my SAT prep kids and I'm getting some new elementary school kids next week, but I spent almost all of 2009 looking for a job. Last night my mother asked me if there was something I'd like to do other than teaching. Even my back up needs a back up these days...

If it makes you feel better, I'm working on an M.A. in Literature. So I know that you have to do what you're interested in, but there's also terrifying, soul crushing debt and poor job prospects.

Don't go to law school unless you have always desperately wanted to be a lawyer. The way the job market (and the tuition) is right now, if you would be happier or just as happy doing something else, don't go to law school.

Years ago (before the end of cartoon mascots but after the ban on TV ads) my father was in a 7-11 with a big cardboard Joe Camel. He says a small boy pointed out the cut-out to his parent and said, "That's Joe Camel. He's cool."

As a small child riding in my grandparents car, I once announced, "That sign looks like hell."

He looks like my first cat! Garfield put on some weight during his middle years, and always preferred hunting to actually playing.

Whether or not her anal gland issues are weight related, the skin infection around her anus and genitals was caused by the fact that she couldn't clean herself. No, you can't blame everything on weight, but sometimes it is weight.

My cat is too fat to clean her own butt. She's been on portion control for awhile, but some family members considered this optional for poor, hungry, "just built that way" Zoot.

My cat is also a fatty. Her vet says the pukes are from hairballs rather than her stuffing her piggy face.

They sure do! After some amazing, mind blowing sex involving a combination of boyfriend and vibrator, the boyfriend sighed and said in a sad, little voice, "I wish my penis could do that."

Don't forget having to deal with male partners who are convinced that they have the One True Penis that will make you orgasm from penetration alone! Or who pout and sulk because they don't have the One True Penis!

I'll admit that some of my fellow needlecrafters are charging outrageous prices, but cross stitch and other needlework can be a huge time investment.