Bigly News!

I’ve been coughing up posts for this blog for almost seven years now — for free and with absolutely zero chance of ever gaining any real success or exposure beyond the 200 pathetic cats that read my drivel.

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Well, that’s about to change.

I’ve just received news through my agent that Melissa McCarthy has signed on to produce a TV Land series based on my blog. Remember the failed TV show, Sh*t My Dad Says starring William Shatner that was based on some guy’s twitter feed? Yeah — this one will actually be good.

The tentative title: The Bad Blogger

The synopsis: The show will follow the life and times of WordPress blogger Marla — a middle-aged, bitter, grade-A crank who is doomed to live in a frozen tundra teeming with Maineiac assholes. She longs to make it as a successful writer, only to be served a big, fat, steaming pile of failure time and again. After much soul-searching, coffee brandy, and the occasional cigar, she finally finds her purpose by posting funny cat videos to her blog followers.

I’ve watched the above video about 152 times and laugh harder each time. What kills me is the look on the white cat’s face when she realizes she didn’t ring the bell hard enough, and the other cat is getting the food but she’s getting bupkis. That look? That’s my face. Every day of my life. Where’s my damn kibble?!

All pissed-off cats and nobody-bloggers-like-me-who-will-never-have-any-real-success-thanks-for-nothing-Melissa-McCarthy aside…I love April Fools’ Day. Two of my favorite pranks I’ve pulled over the years include:

  • Wrapping a huge spool of twine around my brother’s friend’s car, encasing it completely. Took him hours to unwind it. During a blizzard. After he  had just finished a brutal 10 hour shift at work. Hilarious.
  • Telling my boss my husband and my co-worker’s husband were both caught cheating on us — with each other. This was an elaborate prank that involved several people and we managed to keep it going all day long — and my boss believed every bit of it. Hysterical.

So, in the spirit of being mean for a cheap laugh, so far today I gave my kids a spoon in a bowl of milk and cereal…that I froze solid the night before. Later, I’m swapping out the mayonnaise for vanilla pudding.

My husband told me this morning right after I woke up that he got an email stating our health insurance premium is going up to 852 bucks a month. Then he let out a cackle and said “APRIL FOOLS!”

I didn’t think it was funny.

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What sort of devilish pranks have you pulled? Let me know so I can use them next year.

Lost Seinfeld Episode: The Soap Suc (Part 2)

image: craveonline

Last time on Seinfeld, The Soap Suc Part 1: George is moaning about his injured foot, Jerry’s pouring himself another bowl of cereal, and Kramer is about to determine whether Elaine’s breasts are lopsided.

ELAINE (pushes Kramer’s hand away, looks down at her watch): Oh, would you look at the time? I gotta go. I’m late for Mr. Pitt’s emergency meeting.

JERRY: What about?

ELAINE (crams her unwashed bras into her coat pocket): Oh, I don’t know. He probably wants me to run out to buy him some sharper knives to cut his Snickers bar or something.

Elaine leaves. Kramer plunks down on the couch next to George.

KRAMER (double take): Whoa. You are a mess.

GEORGE: I know.  Thanks.

JERRY: Aw, what happened to you, Georgie boy?

GEORGE: I was taking a shower and the stupid bar of soap fell right onto my foot! Right on top of it! (sniffles) I think it’s broken. I might have a hairline fracture.

KRAMER: Man, do I hate when that happens.

JERRY: What — the soap dish in your shower doesn’t work?

GEORGE: It never works! The soap just slips off the little shelf there. My entire shower is me getting pummeled by the soap over and over again.

KRAMER: They should make a little suction gadget, you know, like a suction cup you can stick to the soap and the shower wall so it’s there whenever you need it.

JERRY: Why don’t you just use a loofah and some body wash instead?

GEORGE: A loofah? What am I, Cleopatra over here?

JERRY: Well, you could stop taking showers altogether. Just take baths. Less chance of being hit by the soap.

GEORGE: Nah, too much waiting involved.

JERRY: How often do you take a shower anyway? Every day?

GEORGE: Eh, I could go a day without one. Maybe two.

KRAMER: I’ve gone a month.

George and Jerry cringe.

KRAMER: What? It’s good for the skin, let’s it breathe. Besides, did you know that Howard Hughes had an extreme fear of bathing? I think he was onto something.

JERRY (to Kramer): Don’t you have to be somewhere?

KRAMER: Oh yeah! (snaps fingers) I’d better get going on that soap suction thing.

GEORGE: Hey, whatever happened to that last idea of yours? You know, the uh… cookie-pretzel-muffin combination?

KRAMER: Yeah, the muffzookie.

GEORGE: I liked that one. You should do that.

KRAMER: Too crumbly.

GEORGE: Oh.

KRAMER (stands): Well, boys, I’m off to see Bob Sacamano. He’s just the man to help with my idea.

JERRY: Yeah, good luck with that.

Next scene: Jerry and George are sitting in a booth at Monk’s Cafe.

image: NBC
image: NBC

GEORGE (slurping coffee): I’m so dehydrated, Jerry. I’m always so thirsty. (to waitress) I need more coffee here! MORE COFFEE! (to Jerry) I’m parched. I can’t quench my thirst. There’s no quenching!

JERRY: Running those marathons again, George? You know, you really ought to pace yourself.

GEORGE (chuckles): Well, you could call it a marathon. (lowers voice) You know…with all the sex that I’m having.

JERRY: Ah, yes, with Shower Girl, right?

GEORGE: Yes! It’s nonstop! But she only wants to do it in the shower! You know, like the movies.

JERRY: What movies?

GEORGE: I don’t know, all the movies!

JERRY: So, what’s the problem?

GEORGE: What’s the problem? Have you ever had sex in the shower?

JERRY (chuckles): I don’t think that’s any of your business. (sips coffee)

GEORGE: Well, if you had you’d know that it’s terrible. Just sheer terror from start to finish. I mean, think about it. You’re in this cramped space, there’s water flowing everywhere, everything’s getting all sudsy. Elbows and knees are flying. It’s chaos!

JERRY: Well, at least you’re having sudsy sex.

GEORGE: Oh, so you broke up with Monica?

JERRY: Yeah. I just couldn’t do it anymore. She had this wonky eye.

GEORGE: You mean like she couldn’t see out of one eye? Now that I could work with. I like a girl who can’t see very well. I’ve often thought I should start dating a pirate.

JERRY: No, she could see fine, but it was like one eye was always wandering slightly to the side. It was very off-putting. I could never tell what she was looking at.

GEORGE (nods): Huh.

Kramer enters the restaurant and slides into the booth next to Jerry.

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KRAMER: Hey, guess who I just saw?

JERRY: Who?

KRAMER: Putin.

GEORGE: Vladimir Putin? The President of Russia?

KRAMER (clicks tongue): That’s the one.

JERRY (incredulous): You saw Putin. Here in New York.

KRAMER (steals a french fry off George’s plate): Yeah, he was buying Snowden a hot dog with extra sauerkraut down on 5th street.  Anyway, I’ve got big news, boys. Behold, the product that will blow your minds! (hands a couple pieces of plastic to George and Jerry)

JERRY: What am I supposed to do with this?

KRAMER: Stick it. See, they’re little suction cup holders I made. I need you guys to test them out. They have suction on both sides. You just slap them on whatever item you want, soap, shampoo, whatever, and (makes popping noise) stick ’em.

JERRY: Don’t they already have these?

KRAMER: Yeah, but Bob Sacamano got his hands on this new top-secret adhesive that doesn’t require a nonporous surface. So you can stick ’em all over the place. Use them for anything anywhere.

JERRY: Right. Just what the world needs — more useless plastic.

GEORGE: And what are you going to call these things? Stick-Its?

KRAMER: Well, we call those the Soap Sucs. S-U-C, short for ‘suction’.

JERRY: I think you forgot the K on the end there.

KRAMER: Soon we’ll roll out bigger suction cups for bigger items, like the TV Suc. Maybe even an Infant Suc. Need to put your child down for a second? (makes popping sound) Just stick ’em to the wall! I see a suction cup world, baby. (wiggles eyebrows)

GEORGE: All right, I’m sold. Look, I gotta go. (stands up and throws money on the table)

JERRY: More shower sex?

GEORGE: You’d think she’d wanna do it in the bed at least once in awhile. She’s killing me, Jerry. If there’s anything I’ve learned in all the years I’ve had sex it’s that I much prefer horizontal. It’s comfortable. I can rest when I need to. I’m just not built for stand-up sex. I never pictured myself doing it in the shower.

JERRY (cringes): I’ve never pictured you doing it period.

GEORGE (holds up the Soap Suc): Stick it, Jerry.

Theme music plays, commercial break

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Stay tuned for The Soap Suc Part 3…

This post is dedicated to my father who passed away in 1991. Not only is Seinfeld one of my all-time favorite sitcoms (along with Cheers, Friends and Roseanne) it holds a very special place in my heart. I remember watching the first few seasons with him back in 1989-90 when it was called The Seinfeld Chronicles. The ratings were terrible in the beginning. But my dad had a great sense of humor and he loved the show from the start. He thought Seinfeld was innovative and insisted it would go far. I still watch old Seinfeld episodes all the time and damn, was my dad right. 

 

 

 

Lost Seinfeld Episode: The Soap Suc (Part 1)

image: craveonline
 

Jerry’s alone in his apartment. He’s watching television and eating cereal.

JERRY (giggling): Man, I love The Three Stooges.

The door buzzer sounds. Jerry walks over and presses the intercom button.

JERRY: Yeah?

ELAINE (breathing heavily): Jerry! Jerry! It’s an emergency! Let me in quick! I need help!

JERRY: Who is this?

ELAINE: Jerry!

JERRY: Okay, okay, come on up.

Jerry cracks open the door, then sits down on the couch and resumes giggling at the TV.

Elaine bursts through the door with a bunch of bras in her hands.

ELAINE (gasping): Quick! Where’s your washing machine?

JERRY: What? I don’t have one.

ELAINE (exasperated): You don’t have one?

JERRY: I dry clean everything.

ELAINE: Ah! God! I’m doomed!

Elaine throws her bras onto the kitchen counter and plunks herself down on the couch. She wiggles around, clearly uncomfortable as she frantically pulls on her blouse.

JERRY (clicks off TV): What’s with you?

ELAINE (cries): I’ve run out of bras! They’re all dirty!

JERRY: Well, don’t you clean them?

ELAINE: Yes, Jerry, I clean them. Occasionally.  But all the washers were being used in my building so I had to put on my stupid sports bra this morning. (pushes her breasts together) Now they’re all squished!

JERRY: Wait a second … since when do you play sports?

ELAINE (smirks): Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, Jerry. And I have a meeting with Mr. Pitt in an hour. Ah! How can I live like this all day? (thrashes around) Dumb boobs!

JERRY: I don’t know how you guys walk around with those things.

Kramer bursts through the door. He slides across the floor, spins around, and points a finger at Elaine.

KRAMER: You guys talking boobs?

JERRY: I’ve got to remember to lock my door.

ELAINE (dejectedly): I suppose I could just wear one of my dirty bras. (gestures sadly toward bras on counter)

JERRY (picks up the bras with salad tongs and deposits them onto Elaine’s lap): Yes. Well, how many bras do you own?

ELAINE: I don’t know… four, maybe five?

JERRY: Five? That’s it?

ELAINE: Yeah … well, really only two good ones that actually fit. (thinks intently) One. (nods) I have one bra that I like.

KRAMER (bites into an apple): You’ve got lopsided boobs. (clicks tongue, wags eyebrows)

ELAINE: I don’t have lopsided boobs. Okay, well … I guess one is a little smaller than the other, (scoffs) but I certainly wouldn’t call it lopsided.

JERRY: Actually, that’s the very definition of lopsided.

KRAMER (slurps from a Snapple, wipes his mouth with his sleeve): I like lopsided boobs. Makes it interesting. Always a surprise. (winks at Jerry)

Door buzzes. It’s George. Jerry buzzes him up.

ELAINE: I don’t have lopsided — okay, here! You guys wanna check?

JERRY: Check?

ELAINE: Yeah, feel ’em. Go ahead.

JERRY (chuckles): I’ve already had the distinct pleasure so I don’t think I need to–

KRAMER (raises hand and approaches Elaine): I will!

Elaine stands up and heaves her chest in Kramer’s direction. Kramer reaches forward.

George enters panting. He slowly limps over to the couch.

GEORGE (moans as he sits down): I’ve injured my foot, Jerry. It’s bad. I may never walk again!

George glances over at Kramer and Elaine.

GEORGE: Did I miss something here?

JERRY: Nah, Kramer’s just feeling Elaine’s boobs. It’s nothing.

Seinfeld theme music plays. Commercial break.

~ Stay tuned next time for Part 2 of The Soap Suc ~

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This post is dedicated to my father who passed away in 1991. Not only is Seinfeld one of my all-time favorite sitcoms (along with Cheers, Friends and Roseanne) it holds a very special place in my heart. I remember watching the first few seasons with him back in 1989-90 when it was called The Seinfeld Chronicles. The ratings were terrible in the beginning. But my dad had a great sense of humor and he loved the show from the start. He thought Seinfeld was innovative and insisted it would go far. I still watch old Seinfeld episodes all the time and damn, was my dad right. 

 

 

 

 

 

Why I Want to Have Jason Bateman’s Baby

Everyone has their secret celeb crushes. On my short list — Sting, Jon Stewart, Hugh Laurie, Robert Downey Jr., Conan O’Brien, Ryan “Hey Girl” Gosling — to name just a few. (It’s really not a short list at all, actually.)

But no one compares to my undying devotion to Jason Bateman.
Ah, yes. Jason and I go waaay back.

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—-The following post is narrated by Ron Howard—-

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We’re talkin’ way back to Little House on the Prairie, when Jason made his TV debut as the adorable freckle-faced young orphan boy, James Cooper– and who not much later in his career would occasionally bear more than an unsettling resemblance to his real-life sister, Justine Bateman.

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Continue reading “Why I Want to Have Jason Bateman’s Baby”

Reasons Why I’d Never Survive Survivor

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I just finished watching my favorite TV reality show, Survivor. I’ve seen all 3,000 seasons. After we watched last week’s thrilling finale, my six year old daughter turned to me and said, “Hey, Mom! I know what you can do for a job! Go on Survivor!”

Oh, silly girl. Mommy wouldn’t last ten minutes. Why?

  • I’d constantly tell the hunky young men to put on a shirt. And pull up their pants, get a damn haircut and a shave, for god’s sake.
  • I don’t like insects.
  • I like to eat.
  • I don’t like to eat insects.
Good for you! You ate vile bugs! Put on a damn shirt!
Good for you! You ate vile bugs! Put on a damn shirt! (I heart you, Malcolm)
  • On the first day, I would be banished to the ‘Over-40/Pre-Menopausal/Cranky Ol’ B’ tribe.
  • After listening to Jeff Probst’s relentless and annoying play-by-play during the first immunity challenge, I’d haul off and punch him in the face and scream, “Shut up! Just shut up! For one goddamn second! Think you can manage that, huh? How ’bout some f***ing silence while I try to pull these f***ing  puzzle pieces out of this stupid f***ing volcano!”
Wow, you know what would help me right now? If you'd shut your face, Jeff.
Wow, you know what would really help me right now? If you’d shut your %$&ing  face, Jeff.
  • I like to sleep without the threat of millipedes burrowing into my ear canal.
  • No toilets.
  • I’m a terrible liar. Halfway through a betrayal, I’d snort and laugh and say, “Naw, I was just messin’ with you! I love you! Don’t vote for me, k?”
  • B.O.
  • If anyone were to write my name down at Tribal Council, I’d burst into tears and wail, “Why? Don’t you like me? Is that it? Huh? Was it something I said? Why would you do this to me? Why?!”
  • Sometimes the view on an island ain’t so pretty, dude.

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  • If Russell Hantz were to surprise everyone by suddenly zipping into the game on a helicopter, I’d have to haul off and horse punch him.
  • Same goes for any and all siblings/offspring and/or nephews/nieces/uncles/aunts/pets/neighbors of Russell Hantz. I suspect at least one of them will be on the next Survivor. Possibly all of them.
  • No toilets.
    (Yeah, it bears repeating.)
  • Maineiac Darla doesn’t have the same ring to it as Boston Rob

Would you ever go on Survivor? Think you’d last longer than me? Oh, yeah? Well, I’d vote your ass off first.

(Unless you wanna be in my alliance. But I’d still vote you off with an epic blindside. Maybe I’d be good at this game after all….)

Why I Almost Hated Friends

Friends was one of my all-time favorite shows. I loved it so much, it’s now my main go-to show I’ll watch in reruns– I’ve seen every episode countless times.

But there was a time I hated it. Yep, I was one of the few people who just didn’t see the glittering gem hiding in the hunk of crap that was the show’s first season. And oh, God, it was such a bad, bad season too. Just terrible. The clothes! The hairdos! The Rachel hairdo!

image wikipedia

I hated the show so much, I refused to watch more than a few episodes and declared the show would soon tank in the ratings, never to be heard from again. I also thought the internet would never catch on.

Why I Hated Friends (in the Beginning):

1) The annoying theme song.

When I first heard it back in 1994, I think it wormed its way into my brain, shacked up in the frontal lobe, and set up camp–managing to destroy my love for all music forever.

” I’ll be there for youuuu….when my soul starts to scream. I’ll be there for youuuu….when my mind starts to bleed. I’ll be there for youuuu…stick this fork in my eye. I’ll be there for youuu…no I’m serious, do it now….”

2) Ross’s haircut. (see image below)

It was too shiny and looked hard, like a helmet. How much Dippity-Do did he use for God’s sake?

3) Ross’s monkey.

In the first season, I could not get past the fact that he had a monkey perched on his shoulder in every scene. I wish I could’ve been at the writers’ staff meeting when they came up with that genius idea. “Hey! Shouldn’t Ross have some kind of pet? I mean, we’ve got to distract people from his hair.  Uh…like a cat! Yeah! No…a parrot? Hmm…no, you’re right…not bizarre enough…. Ooh! I’ve got it! A pet monkey named Marsel! And then hilarity will ensue!”

Thankfully he vanished sometime between season 1 and 2, probably after meeting an untimely death involving a runaway taxi cab or an accidental cappuccino overdose at Central Perk.

To-Do List:
1) Clean Up Feces in Couch Cushions
2)Bring Marcel to the ‘Circus’, then drop him off in an empty field and slowly walk away

4) Phoebe’s Smelly Cat Song

image digplanet

Sure, the song is cute and annoying and pure Phoebe (whom I love dearly). It was funny the first time I heard it. But then they kept making her sing it. They even dragged in poor Chrissie Hynde to duet with her in one episode. Enough already. “it’s not your fauuuuult…” It IS your damn fault so please shut up with the bad singing and the guitar before I smash Marsal over the head with it. (I didn’t realize I had such rage about this until now, whew! Felt good to get that out and I’m sorry.)

5) The Rachel.

I hated this haircut then, I hate it now. Back then, it was everywhere. Everyone wanted to look like her. The more my friends gushed on and on about The Rachel and had their own hair cut like hers, the more I wanted to rip my own hair out of my head and just go bald and call it The Darla to spite them all. This haircut was probably the main reason I hated Friends in the early episodes.

6) Courtney Cox-Arquette-Now-Back-to-Cox-Again

In the early days, she still had the fresh-off-the-Bruce-Springsteen-stage look. Every time she entered a scene, I waited for her to suddenly break out into her lame hand-clapping, finger-snapping, foot-swishin’ moves to “Dancing in the Dark”. Sadly, she never did.

image: buzzworthy

 

7) Monica’s boyfriend Richard

What was it about seeing Tom Selleck cozy up to Courtney Cox that made my skin crawl in that “he’s-old-enough-to-be-your-dad” way? Then he shaved off his moustache in a future episode. I don’ t know about you, but Magnum PI is no man with no ‘stache. His face looked like a newborn baby’s butt. All exposed and vulnerable. And dimply, way too dimply. It was just wrong, so very wrong.

Monica: Fine, I can get past the 30 year age gap…but I swear to God, if you reach for that Gillette razor it’s all over, Old Man.

8) The Gleeful Fountain Scene

We are so cold. And wet. And so very cold.

Ah, yes. We get it. You guys are having fun. Whee! Let’s splash around! Yay! Oh, and now you’re all doing the Ahnold Schwarzenegger muscle flex move! Nice! And then you sit on a couch and turn off a lamp. How cute. Blech.

10) The Will They or Won’t They? Crap

Does Ross know Rachel likes him? Does Rachel know that Ross knows she knows?

Should we kiss now? No? How ’bout now? Uh…tell you what, I’ll meet you halfway and then whatever happens, happens? Okay…on the count of three…one…two…oh. Oops! Nope, you got my nose there. Let’s try again. OK, this time our lips WILL connect. Are you ready? Get ready, okay? Let’s do this! One…two…

It was like watching two old ladies fight over the last loaf of rye bread at the Buy N Bag. Painful and slow and very unattractive. I didn’t feel any of the potent sexual tension the 9999 times they almost kissed. When they finally did, it was the OoOOOOHHH! heard round the world while I was probably on the couch snoring.

Did you love Friends the first time you saw it? Did you like Seinfeld too? Because that’s another show I hated during the first season (and grew to love). Is there a popular TV show out there now that you just hate? 

Mad Men Lite

One of my guilty pleasures is watching the AMC hit show Mad Men.  I love the sets/costumes, the actors, and the writing. I watched the first four seasons in a span of a month. I didn’t think I’d like it, but I was hooked. Some of you may not have seen it yet (or might not care to) and I realize we live in a bite-sized entertainment culture where we have super short attention spans.

So here is my quick take on things, a zippy little recap of the entire show in 500 words or less:

[warning! Spoiler Alert! If you haven’t seen all the seasons yet, you don’t want to read further…]

Ooh! Jazzy cool theme song and opening credits!

Yes, we all work in an ultra-hip Manhattan advertising agency. And we drink.

A lot.

Don Draper: Ad Man. Creative genius. Shady past. Likes to smoke, drink, and have sex with the nearest woman at any given time or place. His three go-to facial expressions: wince, stunned and stunned wince.

Betty Draper: Housewife. Sometimes mean mother.  Keeps it all together with a steady diet of cigarettes and cold hard stares.

Yeah, she’s got issues.

Don wincing again. Here he is trying to deal with the inner turmoil about his dark past. Or his inner turmoil about the young, brilliant upstart threatening to take over his job. Or his inner turmoil about being married to Betty. Or his inner turmoil about wanting to sleep with every single woman in the known universe.

Heh. I’ll drink to that.

Make mine a double, Don.

Witty banter…witty banter…witty banter…

…and smoking and drinking and witty banter.

[Joan] God. You guys are such freaking idiots.

Wait a sec–did I sleep with every single one of my secretaries? (wince-smoke, wince-smoke)

Not this one.

Yeah, well. I’m a smart woman and a pretty kick-ass copywriter and I’ll be damned if I stoop so low as to sleep around to get what I want and–oh crap, too late.

[Roger] Is it getting hot in here? Y’know…being so close together like this, is so very… sexy. Have I slept with all of you yet? No? Well…how ’bout it?

[Don] Ha, ha! Ok, here’s a funny joke, stop me if you’ve heard this one…How many woman that I have currently slept with does it take to make this elevator plunge violently to our deaths?  No? No guesses? ….anyone?

Why is it that nobody ever wants to take a crack at me?

It’s the suspenders, isn’t it?

So because you’re my secretary, I hereby decree that we will have sex. And, ah, what the hell! Let’s get married! Just promise me no freaky-deaky zoo be zoo be zoo French songs or mad-raving-lunatic housekeeping.

[Don screaming] God!..ix nay on the oo be zay…please stop! Do our vows not mean anything to you? For the love of God, my ears are bleeding! You promised!

[Betty] Why, certainly! I would love to have another cup of tea! Perhaps it will help me swallow this gnawing bitter resentment I feel now that Don has moved on with a sexy, young, bright, extremely toothy French girl while I sit here in a loveless marriage with three kids and a bad double chin prosthetic with nothing to comfort me but a can of Reddi-Wip that I inhale late at night over the kitchen sink by the light of the moon. (ahem)

Can you please pass me the sugar?

The End.

It’s the bow tie, isn’t it?

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(Photo credits: blogs.amctv.com, idsnews.com, popwatch.ew.com, thesun.co.uk, rollingstone.com)