St. Germain just tastes like perfume to me. Gack. Husband loves it, though. So he’s usually drinking the French 75 and I’m having some whiskey drink, only after we explain to the server that he gets the drink in the tall, pretty glass, and I get the drink in the short, dudely glass.

A few years ago, I was in a Walgreen’s in Arizona and I picked up a Take 5 at the register, as I always do if I see them, since they are sometimes hard to find. The lovely, lanky stoner behind the counter informed me that Take 5 “is, like, the most underrated candy bar out there, man. Good for you for buying one. I…

Whoa, whoa, whoa, there is not one damn thing wrong with biscuits and gravy. Well, unless you live in New England where no one knows how to make it and it’s revolting.

Wow. So not just the idiot “when are you due” but the idiot “when are you due” PLUS unwelcome touching? What the hell?

I’m now inserting “Put on some goddamn actual pants if you’re going to take that tone with me” into any argument I have, ever, regardless of what kind of pants my adversaries are or are not wearing.

I think if victims are following this enough to see this video— or at least I hope— that they have also seen that Koba has taken control of this story and is a willing participant in it, even driving it for very good reasons. I know it’s not always that simple, but I do hope people see and know that.

Every time this picture is used— every time— I immediately click through the comments to see who goes here, because the comments will never not be funny to me. Sweet Jesus.

Sure, but the message that sends— especially if there are people around and filming— is that you can get away with breaking the rules as long as you’re loud enough and a big enough asshole to convince people you aren’t worth it. And that’s part of why this kid’s such a dick— probably a significant portion of his life…

How is this is any way the same except that they chose one name that was popular in that generation of kids? And picking on them for acting up? That’s... that’s not really what’s happening here.

And then it’s the same thing that always happens for this kid. Especially with everyone else looking on, it’s not a good precedent to set.

What’s the thing to do in this situation? I’m sitting here wondering what could have happened differently, but the kid was getting increasingly more physical with the staff, and the cops were taking a long time to show up. Not saying theirs was the best way to handle it, but I’m also not sure how much they’re required…

Pinkham, I’m usually with you. But people can’t help where they’re born and what they hear growing up. I was a teenager before I realized that my habit of calling everything Coke was weird. (For the record, though, I never did it in restaurants. Ever.)

I have the first volume of that sitting around because I snagged it based solely on the art. I should get on that. (But first, to make myself finish Fables.)

I’m an avid horror reader and HoL is one of the few books that actually made me twitchy, looking over my shoulder in the dark, laying awake. Love that book. I wasn’t interested in this game, but now I might be?

Work at a newspaper, television station or any other journalism outlet for one week. You might not even need a full week. People will call you and berate you if a competing outlet has a story up first. You explain to them you appreciate the timeliness of the matter, but Competing TV Station had only anonymous sources…

I hope you were never forced into making promises at age 15 that you are expected to keep now.

I refuse to believe you’re that naive.

Regardless of what the laws are where you are, any person with fame and money who uses that fame and money to break the law is a scumbag.

A few years ago, when Yahoo still had games you could play with other people online (they probably still do), if you logged on to play euchre, you could guarantee everyone in there was from Indiana, Ohio, Michigan, Minnesota or Canada. So I’d go ahead and call Michigan the center of that? Maybe?

Are dudes’ wives really this crazy? If my husband would take a packed lunch, I’d make it because he’s a frigging zombie in the mornings, and if he told me there was too much mustard, I’d say “Cool, no more mustard” and be done with it. Sometimes he even has the audacity to tell me he doesn’t care for what I cooked for…