Dear Little Sisters of the Poor, et al.

I love how into it the guy closest to her is.

Melissa Joan Hart.

I see Melissa Joan Hart.

Fuck you genetics!

If you go, be sure to ask him about it.

How could you not mention the gingham suit?

A bullshit plea, which is why it isn’t allowed in several states.

Given her social, political, and financial status, the chances of her “being carted off to jail” even for the most egregious of crimes is very low.

I’m beginning to think the one near me is a different breed of Fuddruckers.

I’ve only been to one, but it’s counter service. Here’s a photo from yelp showing the toppings bar and the line to order.

“a lot of people drink in the parking lot before going in to church.”

Interesting. Here it’s counter service; like a Five Guys with a condiment bar.

And then they throw in Fudruckers, which isn’t even a sit down place.

I go to Red Robin just for the campfire sauce.

What was up with Bob Saget’s voice? Also, he’s very slumped over.

We clearly have different views on the intimacy of toast.

They’re both naked. I think he knows her well enough.

I have had people make fun of me at a trail head for carrying proper gear. You enjoy hiking with your 1986 Jansport, I’ll use something with a little more support.

Do natural strawberry blondes with brown eyes exist?