It's not the sample size that bugs me, it's going for the self-identifying crowd. From what I've read, there's a small population who are demonstrably not celiac because they don't have the genes but still have sky-high gluten antibody levels when they eat gluten. I want to read a study about them.

Folklorist Meagan Winkelman is ahead of you in a 2012 article in Folklore Forum:

You mean SUNDOG!

Ugh is right. I always tell my students not to date inside the field if possible and definitely not inside the program.

Yep. That pup dodged a bullet, if not the car.

Nope. Spinal evulsion. He was lucky to survive with all his legs and systems in order.

Oof.

Here's some free life advice for any young women afraid of missing out on the Ivy League men while studying for class: there are, in fact, dating services that exclude membership to Ivy and near-Ivy grads. So chill out.

Gah! I wince just looking at those ears.

I would pay 11 cents to make them shut up.

Heresy = fanfic.

The update will, of course, include a toy. Ahem.

I actually dig that funky salmiakki shit. Salt licorice you can clean your bathroom with.

Oh, but you're not getting the subtleties of hákarl .... the overtones of kerosene and the low note of black licorice with the acrid tang of a pencil eraser on fire.

There are urban legends about SAS flights brought down by the smell of that stuff.

Sour herring is more terrifying that lutefisk OR hákarl. Sorry.

Steak is sad in Alaska, where I believe law requires it to be well done.

How about monkfish liver?

The Tasmanian Wolf never had this problem — having been a marsupial.

Or his keys.