My guess is an attempt to recreate an otter by someone who never saw a live one :P

That's awesome. And anything that makes one giggle during a work day can't be all bad.

It really is pretty much the best thing ever. Sad otter could at least take some pleasure in knowing it has provided great amusement, generations after its ignominious stuffing.

It's a very unhappy little otter, I'm afraid. The first time I saw its picture, it was captioned "Y U DO DIS", and I couldn't stop laughing.

Oh yes! :D

The saddest little otter ever. I believe it might be from the Museum of Natural History in NYC, where some of the animals were taxidermied without the staff having a clear understanding of what the animal looked like while alive :P

I suspect these two might make good friends:

Wow. Good thing the pain was there :/

Similar but not the same - I thought I had a stroke and when they ran some tests on me, they said, "nope, no heart attack or stroke, but you do have a tumor, and we're going to get that out of you ASAP." It had probably been there for years but I hadn't known it, and wouldn't have, had I not experienced what I thought…

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Well, it would help if he'd remember to turn the book the right way up.

I don't think she knows how to do anything else. I'd feel sorry for her, but she could buy out my mortgage with her lunch money, and knowing that squelches most of my empathy. If I had her money, I'd like to think I'd get educated and do something useful with my life.

I was 13 when the shootings happened. My mom and I were on our own, and she was working on her Masters, and drove into Toronto for her classes. I remember being afraid that someone like Marc Lépine would come into OISE and gun down my mother and her classmates too. I don't think I ever told her that, and I don't know…

Hi there! As a LARPer and the daughter of a teacher, I'm really curious to ask a few questions of you: How was grading structured? Did you get standard report cards with quantifiable grades for specific subjects, or was it more of a narrative style, qualitative discussion of your progress? Looking back, a few years…

Vaginal Toolbox needs to be a band name. First single: Personal Hand Drill.

It's been over 20 years, but I still find my head whipping around sharply when I smell the original Polo cologne. My first boyfriend wore it. It's not a great cologne, but that smell...heady, inept, passionate, and stupid. So, so stupid :)

You make a good point with regards to one victimization making a person more vulnerable to subsequent victimizations. It took me years to admit to the litany of shit that was done to me, because I was sure nobody would believe that it could happen more than once and still not be my fault. Like, 'once is just bad luck,…

Yes! Given all that's going on in Ferguson, this is like a hot bowl of stew on a cold day with a thick crust of fresh bread on the side.

Wha-wwhhhaaat? Jesus. You horrible shitbag. You wouldn't even TRY to find an alternate solution which allowed a young man to oh, I don't know, not get shot more than a half dozen times? Motherfucker. Holy shit. I...Die in a fire.

Given his dishwater reaction last night, neither of those things makes much of a difference. Not like I was expecting him to get on camera and tell the people of Ferguson to rise up, but his response was...so...damn beige.