I'm late to the party so I'm sure this won't make it out of the greys but I have a couple of terrible ones both from my grandmother (but one was ruined by my mother).

Oh my. I'm 90% sure I went to high school with this guy. Or, at the very least, the guy I'm thinking of would without a doubt do this.

But I thought he hated the media?

An internet-based flirt once told me he didn't like salt (not like overly salty, but just generally salted foods), garlic or red wine. Done.

I'm in a (mostly imaginary) punk band with a bunch of ladies without kids that we call Shriveled Uteri. We should tour together.

You are my hero.

I came to say this exact thing.

This is why I'm terrified of these things. I have to look away every time some food network chef pulls it out.

That's just a good survival strategy. During the zombie apocalypse, people will flock to my fat thighs for warmth and weaponry. And I will turn them away because letting people flock to you is a zombie attraction and not how you survive the zombie apocalypse.

I'm not going to lie, I starred this for the moose.

I got my driver's license for the sole purpose of making a 14 hour drive to spend two nights with a guy who was about to leave the country.

I hope you tell this story at his wedding.

People shifting gears in a manual. I don't know why, but I've had many an awkward moment getting into a car with someone for the first time (co-workers, friends, people I hardly know...) and realizing they're driving a stick.

I always thought it tasted different from a hose too.

The first week of school is hard for teachers too.

Deal. You're buying the alcohol right?

Are we related?

I really want to see that drawing.

Can we team up on this? Also, can we beat the shit out of deserving Americans too? I can have a hefty list to you today so we may need more partners.

Maybe ranch can be the one thing to bring the people of Ferguson together. Something good must come out of this.