Gratuitously.

I give your husband credit...I would probably have PTSD if I had to do that.

On a side note, I hate when I go out to eat and someone else says they're going to pay. I appreciate it (mostly because I'm poor), but then I feel obliged to order one of the cheaper entrees and skip the booze (maybe a cheap beer), whereas I might have treated myself to a mid-priced entree and a cocktail.

Also, next time she should serve that guy a meal with some of that gimmicky purple ketchup.

I hope Jenny was paid well for that job. I'm not a violent person, but my fists would be clenched quite a bit.

"They're using male semen"

I mean, I'm gay so I'm not necessarily all up on how the lady parts work...but I'm pretty sure "male semen" is a bit redundant, no?

I once made the mistake of telling my ex that I mixed canned tuna fish and Oreos as a kid. I'm pretty sure that's why he broke up with me.

In my defense, I didn't have mayo in the tuna.

The large regional amusement chain I work for (let's say it's between Five and Seven Flags) doesn't allow facial hair, earrings for men, two-toned hair, unnatural color hair, "multi-level" hair, visible tattoos, more than one color in nail polish, bright colored or neon nail polish, or facial piercings. This year they…

In Soviet Russia, bread save you!

Growing up, both of my parents were heavy (1+ pack/day each) smokers of menthol cigarettes. I've never been a smoker myself, but when I moved away to college I noticed that every time I walked by someone smoking a menthol cigarette, I'd get this feeling of peace that almost verged on a high.

Here, Comcast always does theirs at 5:30 AM. I only know this because I sleep with the TV on, and it wakes me up in a panic every time.

It's also delicious in practice (once you get past the appearance).

I'm not a soup person at all, but I can never pass up French Onion if it's on the menu. I know it means I won't be able to eat much of my entree since the cheese part is fairly filling (I had weight loss surgery in 2010) , but I just don't care.

I was more surprised that the dog had a membership card with their picture on it, honestly. I imagine it was more along the lines of "he's paying us for this, so if he wants the dog's picture on it so be it."

I just kind of wish that instead of it being signed, it was a paw print.

The dog story reminds me of when I was working at a BJ's Wholesale Club in Jacksonville, FL. (Is that the most depressing sentence I've ever written?)

A customer came up to the register to check out. He had a small dog with him, which was technically not allowed, but I didn't think much of it. When he handed me his…

My ex-boyfriend's last name is Hile. I always told him if we ever got married, there's no chance in Hell I was taking his last name.

I wish I could have seen the horrified expression on my face when I misread that as "Chocolate-Covered Cheesesteak on a Stick."

I read this as "well-hung fish" and did a double take.

*adds "snorffile* to mental rolodex*