The Fat Boys were a major part of my childhood soundtrack in 1987/88 Miami.

Sadly, in a theocracy like Texas, what is “good” and what is “evil” is antithetical to their bible.

There’s ugly-because-we’re-not-trying. And then there’s how-ugly-can-we-make-it.

What you need is an automotive Vienna sausage, on a stick, to push on the screen without revealing the gloved/mittened hand.

Time to upgrade your breakfast dishes to some fine-ass china and live the classiest existence you can possibly tolerate.

My mother is trying to slough off her Norman Rockwell seasons collectable plates on me, as we speak. The cats broke one, but Spring is the worst anyway.

I had to check that this had indeed just happened.

Is this the moment when it takes off the Mitsubishi mask to reveal it’s a shitty Chinese knock-off. . .Scooby Doo style?

It’s literally on the big image of the cover of the book.

Honestly, when I’m about ready to go, I’m just going to cover myself in blueberries and maple syrup, and “accidentally” trip in the forest, so that the bears will eat me.

I think it’s still on the operating room table, getting lifted into place.

I guess this post reminds me that Boston Market still exists.  I even found out there’s one in my city.  Wild.

I like how Home Depot hires them at each location, just to make it a more lively shopping experience.

Good god. . .does that goatee nose come with a free pair of white Kirkland sneakers and an Underarmor shirt?

Yes, I see that works on a desktop. Except the photos are grayed. But still, an improvement.

I gotta know—who were you all-in for when you were a kid? Was it Greg Biffle or Ward Burton?

Sweet, boring sanity.

Never again will I question how large a brooch may be.

Multiple Sclerosis Re-Tweet

Make sure to pronounce that blob “Mocky.”