My family is fallen southern gentry (my grandmother was disinherited by her mine-owning father for marrying outside of her race/class) and so we were raised with upper class 'values' and absolutely no money. My father got a lot of crap for marrying outside of his 'class' when their parents earned exactly the same…

My Dad gave the sermon (a Presbyterian minister guesting in a CofE church) and his main topic was 'the sin of divorce'. The canon, who performed the wedding, was appalled. As was half the congregation.

I always picture Roz in Margaret Atwood's 'The Robber Bride' as Bette Middler in TFWC. I have no idea why this happened, it just did. It's probably due to the fact that Roz is fabulous.

Yup. This job is very appealing to this smelly misanthrope.

I don't trust anyone who use the word 'gosh' in public. This man reminds me of the down-home, aw-shucks serial killer that lived in the trailer park behind our house in Kansas.

So, no body but me is worried about her contracting lung fluke parasites (they burrow into your brain!) from the snail slime? Just me then? Ok.

Ok, this is fantastic. My story isn't quite the same, but one time when my mother and I were leaving church this trollish (in every sense) man bent down to my mother as she sat, locked in pain, in her wheelchair. He looked like he was going in for the dreaded, awkward 'church hug'. I didn't like the look of him, but…

That's bok choi. Best vegetable ever. I would eat a wheel-barrow load of it, and ask for seconds. That dog has the right idea.

My husband also has a mangagement ring. We figured that fair is fair. Our wedding rings are also identical in size and design, though his is yellow gold and mine is white.

Also, can somebody please get me out of the grays now? Thanks.

Not my choice in terms of music, but I can definitely see the appeal. Next time I see Purcell's King Arthur, I'll elbow my husband during 'What Power Art Thou?' and give it a go. The show must go on!

My husband and I started out as friends, but then we sort of wandered vaguely into bed. It was fun, so we've stayed there for the better part of a decade, getting stranger and more socially isolated (in a good way) as we go along. We are best friends. We share goals, and we want the same things in the future.…

I loathe the word 'cunt' (though the one time I used it in a poem it got nominated for the Pushcart) because it sounds neolithic. Like a stone ax hitting a leg-of-something. It out to be onomatopoeic. CUNT! Then everyone enjoys their steaming mastodon marrow.

My husband calls mine, 'your junk'. It works for me.

Ours was 'Killing in the Name Of' by Rage Against the Machine. That was my husband's idea. I wanted Tom Waits' 'Long Way Home', but he pointed out that you can't really dance to that.

...where do they stuff the candy? Never mind. I don't want to know.

Didn't Jesus make a really big deal about kicking a bunch of merchants and money-lenders out of the temple? Seriously, reading this, I could actually feel a headache build, like a thunderhead, inside of my already holiday-abused skull.

I live in Swindon, England, and the roads were insane today. Trying to go grocery shopping was very much like plunging into a hurricane composed of smelly old people and really aggressive mothers. But hey, Quality Street chocolates were 2/3rds off so I guess that made it worth it for them? Seriously, this is one…

UK Jezebel readers are glad that you're here, Mark! American websites are no fun on colonial holidays.

My mother has arachnoiditis. It's a degenerative nerve disorder. She's on a very strong cocktail of drugs that barely make a dent in it. She has a neurontin pump and a dorsal spinal stimulator. None of which help. Aniston, in this preview, reminded me so strongly of her that it hurts. Say what you will, she gets…

So you're not going to buy me a hoodie then? :-(

I could see her singing disco...oh wait. Didn't she really used to do that?