My husband did surprise me with a birthday present of a UGears mechanical timer kit, although in the wake of the multimeter mess I’m feeling a bit underconfident about tackling it.

I got halfway through de Sade’s Justine, or The Misfortunes of Virtue, before finding it just too damn repetitive and didactic (also very much lacking in Candide’s satirical weirdness).

Well, this has certainly been a week.

Those Kobarahs look like they should have an inflation valve on them somewhere.

Let’s just hope there’s no scam.

Now I kinda want to dope-slap the guy.

They would probably worry about your underwear less than they would about the human skull proudly displayed in my living room.

Wot, no Doctor Strangelove, Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb?

That shit’s just a polymer.

Stockades nothing: I’d like to see them let a couple of yobbos go to town on his kneecaps with tire irons.

He doesn’t even need that. He can try for the wingnut welfare circuit, though guys like Milo Y. show it’s not always as easy a grift as it looks.

The term I’d heard for Harpo’s cross-eyed, puffed-cheek face was a “Gookie”, and it supposedly came from a local cigar roller (nicknamed “Gookie”) he’d seen as a kid— the guy would concentrate and his eyes would cross and his tongue would block his mouth and his cheeks would puff up...

Not cunts: they lack the depth, the charm and the warmth.

But if it happens to enough rich people maybe they’ll actually care about it.

Might a reloadable gift card (to Target, or BB&B or such) be a good idea? It’d be an easy way to help her out/gift her at other times (along with maybe a “for fun” or material gift or two).

Is it just me or is there in fact a marked correlation between owning/driving a BMW and major douchebaggery?

[looks her up]

This white person wishes you had, but I imagine the consequences wouldn’t’ve been worth it.