Oh I know. Such are the joys of working in the "professional" world.

FMLA. It's a moot point, as I made the conscious decision to sign a severance contract just to get my life back. Although, the language is so patently absurd that I do wonder how enforceable it is.

Huh, so what you're saying is that I basically worked for the equivalent of Subway when my old job hired someone to replace me when I was out on medical leave?

UNICORNANDRY.

Wow, my wedding doesn't fit in to any of these. We did the "what can we get on discount and still make it look expensive" wedding. Age of Sail from 1780-1830 FTW. (Yes, my husband and I are insane and that really was our theme).

I'm quite sure your Nobel prize is in the mail. Groundbreaking work, truly.

All of my comments come with an ironclad disclaimer that I am not at all responsible for your reactions, voluntary or involuntary, to the words and opinions I choose to spew forth.

Although, if anyone asks you for the nearest Internet cafe, I truly hope you point them to 1996.

Of course; I'm just not hipster enough to employ the practice.

My incredible prowess at naming the food I am ingesting for myself? Thank you for recognizing my wondrous super power; it's truly a gift.

I had a very serious After School Special-esque moment with Mama Smithwell the other day about that topic. It boiled down to, "Stahp fucking doing that, woman!"

Suddenly, restaurants with no cell phone policies make sense.

That sounds fairly magical, I have to say! But I have dreams about that veggie creation. Legitimate fucking dreams. Now I want one.

*shrugs* not everyone needs meat in their diet.

HABIT IS PROOF THAT GOD EXISTS.

The best review I have ever found on Yelp, and it was for a restaurant in LA that is FAMOUS for seafood.

No one has ever hissed at me on the street. I guess I'm not hiss worthy?

You have to make sure it's extra small, rapid fire, lascivious little licks, though. That's the real panty dropper.

I foresee absolutely no problems with this whatsoever. Especially if it's controlled by someone else, not me. I mean, I have a vagina and therefore can't be trusted.

Paintings from the era clearly depict that Jesus was fabulous: