This is sad indeed—and I’m sorry about your dad.

He actually went out with Howie Meeker, another Canadian icon (if you’re a hockey fan) today.

I had the pleasure and honor of being on Jeopardy! back in 2017. I went into Final Jeopardy! with over $10K, bet big, got it wrong and lost. I finished third.

I’m crying.

At one point in college I was living in a house with 3 roommates, and their varous partners/hookups. The kitchen was a frequent point of contention. One morning I woke up and went into the kitchen and it was a wreck. Every form of cheese and anything remotely dippable from the fridge (butter, salsa, cream cheese, etc)…

I subscribed to NYT Cooking at the beginning of quarantine, and since I’m a trash bag instead of using the extra at-home time to delve into any of the numerous gorgeous, complicated recipes on the site I got really into this open-faced sandwich recipe that I came across there: toasted bread smeared with peanut butter…

I have no idea where this came from but it is a comfort thing from my lower middle class, 1970s blue collar roots. At no time would my parents have endorsed this. White bread, 2 Kraft singles, several bread and butter pickles, Kraft Catalina dressing and French’s yellow mustard. I don’t know why. 

When I was 10 and just starting on my latchkey journey, I looked forward to my post-school snack. It was almost always breakfast food- pop tarts, a bowl of cereal, eggos.

One of my loser friends in college ran out of milk so he made Kraft mac and cheese with beer instead.

I am at this very moment eating a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch with milk, topped with CoolWhip. I regret nothing.

I have to deviate slightly from the rules because I didn’t prepare this meal, I was simply the victim of it.

In college, I made...bad choices, food-wise. To the point that the idea of “midnight bacon” transformed into an event, “Midnight Bacon”. But the worst dish I ever made was something of a conglomeration of several bad ideas, coming together as one.

Update: Dad came through.

Probably the Halloween party I was invited to by my ex-boyfriend. Don’t worry: he’s dead now and it’s no great loss to humanity, believe me.

If you place Trump in a box and sealed it, you would not know if Trump was dead or alive until you opened the box, so that until the box was opened, Trump is both “dead and alive”.

I’m sorry. I don’t think actual white supremacists are running around shouting, “I love fall, because it reminds me of the way things used to be.” That’s incredibly Amerocentric. The French, Japanese, Fins all love fall as well.

I am 100% a white suburban housewife who loves fall and sweaters and pumpkin spice lattes. IDK how this article got into Thanksgiving? Which, while technically in the fall is just a dress rehearsal for Christmas. The secret is, I live in Georgia. In the fall, it is the end of 4+ months of temperatures over 90 and all…

What’s missing from this article is that they’ve been divorced for 12 years. They divorced in 2008, reunited for the sake of the kids in 2015/2016 and were living together in his house but not married. Given that the house was purchased by him when they weren’t married, there’s no reason she should have a right to it.

“Do you advocate herd immunity?”

Since a small bottle is so much smaller than a cask of Amontilado, you might have to settle for a much smaller act of villainy like leaving them in the car with no keys while you run into Starbucks or not replacing an empty toilet paper roll or something.