Erase paste is the BEST. I just ran out of my last little tub, which lasted approximately forever. Sephora run in my immediate future.

The owner did take him to a vet: "...after being hit by a car and pronounced deceased by the vet..."

I ... I can't ... but ... fuck.

"15. I make a great omelet. My secret ingredient is a diced baked potato."

No way! This from the man who wrote the lyrics: "Just a shy guy looking for a two ply Hefty bag to hold my love.*"

Right? Besides, this note will clearly bolster his inevitable suit, which will state that the initial work injury (which prompted the subsequent sexual injury) led to alienation of affection and his eventually separation from his spouse.

You remember because Santa got shit right that year!

Ha! My husband never fails to pick mine up — microphone style — and say, "Hey, good lookin'! We'll be back to pick you up later!"

Martha At Any Age could get it, frankly.

It's a classic James Dean look:

Obviously. I mean, that's the dream, right? Get a plastic peen substitute (or a magical real one for a day — PLEASEYESTHANKYOU), and pee on everything everywhere ever. Then repeat.

You needed one of these:

I have to say, I'm SHOCKED with Retta's glitter stance. I thought I knew her, man.

And if hand-me-down vibes were okee-dokee, I'd want to be the friend who got it. I've burned through three Hitachis.

Yeah. It was on Gawker and linked on the main page here 4 days ago.

Cock, cunt and fuck always struck me as a complete set.

Y'all! I can totally make that setup work. Fanfic style!

There's no "star" in the original line from Barrie's work. It's just: "Second to the right, and straight on till morning." So she actually nailed it. At least that time!

TEARS! *closes eyes, waves amen hand*

You are cordially invited to my everything.