1. I bet that white couple is racist as hell, but dont think they are because “My ____ is black!”

The end killed me! The hair flip/shoulder shrug/bitch BYE execution was perfection.

I want to be her best friend. She is my everything.

But seriously. Why would you even touch someone you don't know. Mind your business dude. Triflin.

“Look *points to him* you want to be here, I *points to herself* am getting paid to be here. If Imma be here, I will catch up on my book. I would advise you to keep your hands to yourself before I...whoooo” *goes back to book*

omg newborn babies are disgusting.

sorry-not-sorry, but any man who rapes me is giving me permission to do whatever i like with his wang, including chopping it off and tossing it out the nearest window. don’t like the thought, then don’t rape. easy to avoid.

If it restores any faith in your universe, my brother and I have done similar things when younger, including me staring down some huge motherfucker while simultaneously hoping he wasn't chickenshit enough to hit a girl and that my brother would hurry the fuck up with the car. I was usually fully ready to go completely…

I need the record to reflect that even though it’s not food-related, this story is awesome and you’re awesome.

My sides reached orbit at “first generation Fat-Lesbian”. I only hope that one day, I too will be able to find someone who will stare down assholes while I dance to songs from the 70s.

What’s the over/under on catching him with a male prostitute and a duffel bag of meth and viagra? A week? Two weeks?

The Holly Jameson story reminds me of something that happened to me at a CVS a few weeks ago while I was was waiting to pick up a prescription. One of the two pharmacists was helping an elderly woman with lots of insurance issues so the other pharmacist was taking care of everyone else. The woman in front of me was…

Monogrammed Thermos™ does both!

As they drive off, I can hear the guy singing, “You gotta move on, doot doot doo doo doo doo. You gotta move on.”

“...tirade about how the coffee was SHIT and full of WATER and he needs a strong drink for his son to be a strong man...”

I can't tell if these stories warmed my icy cold heart or chilled my raging hot anger.

I really hope that couple from the coffee story are still together and fighting crime with funky disco beats, choreographed truck moves, and the unwavering ability to tell someone to shut the fuck up.

That was some nonsensical tossing of the word salad.

No, you’re crying.

OH GOD. I haven’t even finished reading but that Funky Town story has brought actual tears to my eyes.