That’s what I’m going to go with. And keep being the friend who hosts parties and cookouts.

I was in this awkward spot recently. I’m interviewing for a job that would be a really nice increase. Friends of mine knew that I did that on Friday before I met them for drinks, they asked how it went, and then one of them asked how much it would put me at.

I'd call ahead. Illinois had a bunch of programs that were recently cut by the new governor. Thanks, Rauner.

Oh my gods. valkyrian86, with 86 being the kitchen code for something taken off the menu. Whole bunch of creeps thought that was my birth year, and this was in 1997. Sooo many creeps.

TL;DR - I was on top. He was big. He slipped. I ripped. I started gushing lots of blood. He called the paramedics. I get driven to the ER in an ambulance. They ask if he has genital piercings. I get stitches. Follow-up appointments with an OB-GYN lead me to find out that, as she exclaimed, “[I] have a tiny, tiny…

BOOM

The mix is made beforehand. The morning routine then becomes

This seems rather unnecessary.

Lately?

A long time ago I picked up a copy of John Cleese’s “Wine for the Confused” and then forced almost all my friends to watch it. Except for two bad bottles in the past few years, I use his advice nearly every time I pick wine.

Oops. Dammit Kinja and work-required Internet Explorer.

I miss Briefcase a little, but not as much as the

oh GODS, Bob drove me insane even as a teenager.

For the Mandatory Fun tour, “The Saga Begins” is the encore.

I'll just have to watch them over and over again. With a pause button.

Frak me, yes. Between Mads Mikkelsen Hannibal Lecter and Richard Armitage Francis Dolarhyde.

Crap. This happened to me just a few weeks ago. I was interviewed by three people at once, and I found out later one of two directors I thought I won over was my biggest critic, and the one that terrified me actually voted in my favor.

Maggi sauce. I made sure I had it even in the darkest days of college and every apartment since. Introduced Mr. Vic to it, he can’t live without it either.

The moment that stores stop carrying flare leg jeans is when I freak out and break everything. Nothing else will fit my calves.

One of the two other women in my training group is petite and 5'1" and can bench almost as much as I can. She left roller derby and needed something else to exercise with, and knew that 5# hand weights weren't going to get her anywhere.