To quote Selma Bouvier: There goes the last lingering thread of my heterosexuality.

"Happy Valentine's Day-- you need bigger boobs AND more liquor!" Don't see how that message could be misinterpreted...

I just got the afghan comment. I am an idiot. And way too literal. Need more caffeine...

I think that's a standard poodle, not an Afghan. They don't mention housebreaking. Deer doots on my pillow is NOT something I want to wake up to...

Curmudgeon time: These folks should jump on their own beds if they want these pictures. I used to work in a small, family-owned motel in a tourist town and I can imagine the call from the next, angry guest complaining about the broken bed in their room, having a room out of commission for a week or more while a new bed is ordered and installed, etc. Not to mention the liability if one of these idiots misses the bed and breaks a collarbone. I'll just go back to knitting sweaters for my cats and chasing those darn kids off of my lawn...

Aw! That's so sad! My dad is a Shriner, but his clown troop rides little mini motorcycles and, I think, a golf cart... Who would steal from the Shriners? That's really low. So to speak.

Way back in the late 50s, my two great uncles owned a service station in Lynchburg, VA. They rescued a puppy from one of those big old 1950's cars. The car belonged to a salesman who had been out on a bunch of farms in the country, and despite the local publicity (a picture and a story in the local paper), no one ever claimed him. He lived at the station for the rest of his life. His name: Tailpipe. A great little hound!

Notice that he's a Marine? He should also be evaluated for PTSD. But in the meantime, he should cool his heels in a jail cell and/or locked-down hospital ward until he no longer presents a threat to anyone, especially his wife.

In Fredericksburg, VA there is a Chinese restaurant called the Fu Kien Gourmet that I never felt compelled to try. Looks like the crab house is deliberately exploiting their name. Sort of like the infamous Dirty Dick's Crab House in Nags Head, NC. They sell t-shirts that say, "I Got Crabs At Dirty Dick's!" Very classy. http://www.dirtydickscrabs.com/index.htm

The problem with minimal IQ tests is that if we removed all of the idiots from our legislature, it would no longer be a representative democracy.

That is AWESOME! You can't help but smile!

This was in fashion in, like, the '40s. My grandmother used to shave/pluck her eyebrows, then draw them in with a brow pencil. Unfortunately, she never really mastered the art of getting them to match, so she always had one eyebrow slightly higher than the other, which gave her a permanently surprised expression. I miss her. She was a delightfully batty lady!

There are so few really gifted storytellers, and Mr. McCourt was truly one of them. Our lives are all richer for having heard him, whether in person or in print. I'm so sorry for your loss, Dave, and for the rest of the Remainders. He seems to have been a truly lovely man and a great friend.

More proof that the Wedding Industrial Complex is evil.

I don't see how Buddy Holey could lose-- that's awesome, Siouxie!

I really like Williamsburg, but given the terrain in that area (close to the Great Dismal Swamp), I think something like the Swamp Rats would be appropriate (or Rattlers, or Water Moccasins, or, since the name Eagles is taken, Ospreys). But the historical aspect is more unique. I kind of like The Roundheads.

iain: As a long-time fan of the Potomac Drainage Basin Indigenous Persons, I have to agree that the moniker "Redskins" really needs to go. I always thought that Washington Warriors was nicely alliterative, but given that they practice in Northern Virginia and play in Maryland, I'm not sure they deserve the "Washington" part of that name, either.

Agreed that Oranges would be much more apropos.

As an alum, the nickname "Tribe" always confused me. There is nothing the least bit Indian-related about that school, in the heart of Colonial Williamsburg, part of the historic triangle that includes Jamestown and Yorktown. One of the best sandwich places anywhere is a few blocks from campus near the Colonial area called The Cheese Shop. I think they should just go with the cheese theme. You can get both of the school colors (yellow and green) in cheese without involving any unfortunate vegetables.

NotSherly and nursecindy, don't rule out stupidity as a distinct possibility. Having recently endured the teenage years of my stepdaughter, niece and nephew, I can assure you that the experts are right: The last part of the brain to develop is the part that allows you to predict consequences from your actions. We're still waiting for that last, crucial developmental stage, and they are all 18-20. I can see a scenario where she thought, "I'm 18 and I'm legally an adult and I can do what I want and wouldn't this be super-cool?!!" without once thinking, "Gee, I wonder what Dad will think?" I can hear it now (because I have): "Why do you care? It's my face. I can do what I want. Besides, I wouldn't want to work anyplace that was so SUPERFICIAL that they would JUDGE people based on how they looked. I mean, who wants to live like that? We, the truly enlightened young, are not hung up on things like appearance [or past behavior or evidence of poor decision-making skills]. We have EVOLVED beyond that. You are just SO old-fashioned!" Apparently her boyfriend wasn't terribly impressed, either.

My father-in-law had a stroke that robbed him of his ability to speak and impaired the use of his left side. He lived in Southern California and had a scooter (like a golf cart) that he drove everywhere. My brother-in-law was working on fitting one out with a small gas engine so that he could increase his range when my FIL had a heart attack that ended his long-distance travels. He would go from his house to any of the local fast food places or convenience stores, where they knew him. My BIL would take napkins from his favorite places and write out his favorite orders so that all FIL had to do was present the napkin to the cashier and get his order. Because he lived in the desert, he preferred to travel at night. My BIL got used to getting calls from the local police in the middle of the night. Sometimes FIL had run out of juice, and BIL would have to go get him and the scooter, but frequently the cops just wondered why this old guy was riding a scooter on the bike path at midnight. Those things have more range than you might think!

There is No. Possible. Way. that she slept through that. She is lying. Gotta go with Tattoo Boy on this one.