@Emby Was he under a Tudor or a four-door?
They paved Plantagenet and put up a parking lot.
@evil melis I think we need an "Ask an evil melis" column, stat.
I would really, really, really, like to read an entire advice column penned by evil melis.
Dear Evil Melis,
What is the best way to appease the Dark Lord? Asking for a friend.
I know this is the exact wrong answer, but in Evil Fantasy World, where I sometimes live, I'd love to tell that mother-in-law that I'm going to cook a dinner that will give her explosive diarrhea and gas pains, and that she has to eat it, and when she protests, ask her: "Then why do you think you have the right to do the same thing to me?"
@contrary Yeah, I figure that the sleek chocolate-or-pads box doesn't fool anyone. It is THE TELLING SIZE!
BUT! MARKETING IDEA Gourmet chocolates on one side of the sleek black box... and really excellent, functional maxi pads on the other.
"Honey! Can you stop at CVS on the way back from getting the kids and grab me a box of the ultra-thins with marzipan?" "Sure! You don't want After Eight Mints and mediums?" "Nah, I have some left from last month. Thanks though!"
@planforamiracle-- Scented pads and tampons are past gross. Yuck.
You're looking at pictures of your ex with their new girlfriend on Facebook. Adele is playing, you're crying. The sobs cause a piece of the cookie you're eating to lodge in your throat. You start to choke. You lunge towards the phone, but it's too late. You slump forward, head onto the mouse.
By jacqueline on Law & Order: Special Pie Charts Unit
You've tapped into my GREATEST FEAR
@Yahtzii His running mate was easy to underestimate. He was a waffler, they said. Inhuman. Weak. What the talking heads didn't see- could never see- was how smart Mitt was. He was pleasant and careful and infinitely patient. He had played with Paul, uncovered his weaknesses and his deepest, most shameful desires. Mitt had broken him down, and now Paul was a breath away from being completely at his mercy.
"I said pay attention, Paul." The hand at his waist tightened, and he felt Mitt's fingers trace slowly over the point of his hipbone. "You're not just a congressman any more. You've gone beyond that." Another soft breath as Mitt leans in and whispers into his ear. "Haven't you?"
Paul shuts his eyes and whines, lets his head thud back against the wall of their trailer. He feels Mitt open his shirt, fingers slowly popping open buttons. Then there's the touch of cool air on his chest as his undershirt is tugged askew. The sudden wet heat of Mitt's mouth on his collarbone makes Paul moan and squirm, pushing at the khaki-clad leg that's insinuated itself between his thighs.
Paul feels Mitt laugh against his skin. "That's right. We're going to go far together, Paul." The older man ducks his head back down and bites at the cord of muscle in his neck. Paul shudders and whines again; he feels like he's breaking apart. "But you have to pay attention to me. Let me take care of what you need, hmm? Let me be the one in charge." Mitt presses a little closer. "Isn't that right, Paul?"
Paul opens his eyes and shivers again at the look he's getting, all heat and power and filthy promises. He tips his head back again, exposing the tanned line of his neck, and gives in to what he's wanted all these months. "Yes. Yes, Mister President."
you guys, I am so, so sorry.
Can we retire the joke about how a guy must be "worth keeping" if he sees you without makeup and doesn't react in horror? It's an old joke. It's tired, and its bones hurt, and it wants to rest.