mthor

We couldn't get that lucky.

Thank you! I'm not explaining why.

What is the name of that really horrible Sean Connery movie where he wears the fluorescent banana hammock with suspenders?

What?😖

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Enjoy as presented.

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I am so sick of that twat doctor shilling her whole body deodorant.

Stop picking on Karens. Read up on the history of the Karen civil war in Burma (I do not use Myanmar out of respect to the many Karen who were my coworkers and patients). Find another name, or call them what they are - entitled, deluded bitches.

I really miss hard toothbrushes. Not for teeth, but for those odd little things and spaces that need to be scrubbed.

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Today, I spent 4 1/2 hours with my husband. For context, that's the longest amount of time that we've spent within 200 yards of each other in over 20 years. I need a shot of Hawaiian Punch and a water glass full of Everclear. Edit: No ice, please.

ok?

I went to a nursing school run by Franciscan nuns. Although it was no longer the case when I attended, several of my instructors were alumnae - in their day, the nuns would bounce a quarter off the sheets to make sure that the beds were well made, and before the students were allowed on the floor, their clinical instructors would smack their butts to make sure that they were wearing girdles. This has been "Today in Ancient History." Please tune in again next week, when we discuss "How to Untangle Phone Cords."

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Thor was my nickname in nursing school. Nothing to do with the MCU (which wouldn't exist for decades), but chemicals were involved.

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Damn. I was there for the beginning.

He's almost 40. He'd better figure fast.

Well, at least I got good insurance out of the deal

It's not slobbishness. It's an alternative organizational system.

Barely a handful of any parents. Buddy, Pat, odin, you, disco, me - there was one other mom, I think (no, not fuggs), and I'm not sure who the one with mental illness is, but this is obviously a low reproduction zone.

And ties. Don't forget the ties.

My father taught me how to make bread and Stingers. He taught me how to bait a hook and gut a fish, and how to draw blood. After I moved back up to my home town, we'd go out in the woods to pick blueberries every summer. I hated it. The mosquitoes were horrible, but I'd go anyway, because Dad asked, and because my stepmother worried about him out in the middle of nowhere. (He always had a cell phone, but he never turned it on.) The summer before he died, I'd stop by after work, and, maybe once a week, I'd ask if he was ready to go. Finally, he said, "I don't want to disappoint you, but I don't think I can do it." "I don't really want to go," I said. "I just didn't want to disappoint you, either." Miss you, Dad.

Six of one, half dozen of the other. She was a mean, bitter woman.