We want healthcare! We want health--zzzzzzzzzzz

Finally, a protester we can all stand behind.

I wouldn't mind kissing that man between the cheeks.

The Consumer Advocate with Merton and Barry

Stinky balls got you down?

Then check out this gem.

Yeah, we at the DoF were all pretty excited by this major development in the stinky ass/ball sack/ABC field. Just kidding. We were in a state of catatonic disbelief for...about five seconds. Then, after a quick hand-to-balls-to-nose sniff test, we regained our composure and began an (admittedly short) email thread in much the same way that any of our ideas start out. Take it away, Reno:

Reno:
http://www.nodoro.com/

HUzzah

Merton:
Hooray. FDS for dudes.

Maybe it's just me, but has the "shower regularly/slap on a little cornstarch" method been THAT thoroughly discredited? I mean, yeah...By the time I go to bed, maybe the boys are a little pungent, but I can't recall the last time someone had to pull me aside to gingerly inform me that I was rocking some overpowering fruit-basket rot. And besides...I've plunged head-first into the promised land of dozens and dozens of ladies who have been goodly enough to lift the velvet rope on the mid-town tunnel. And their own personal bouquets have ranged from "eerily nonexistent" all the way to "weapons-grade musk," but it's not like once the green light is burning, even VISIBLE aroma is a deal-killer. At that point, I have an important job I've been entrusted with, and it's in my best interest to see it through regardless of whether the working conditions are OSHA-approved or not. Especially if it's a worksite I'd like to be invited back into in the future. So, on the flippy, I can't necessarily see the jig being up if there happens to be a wee bit of an edge to the olfactory side of the experience when it's your turn. By the time she notices any sort of atmospheric shift, I'd hope that she's already pretty much decided she likes you.

That said, I don't take any chances personally. Especially on the occasion of my heading out to plant my flag on a hitherto-unfamiliar summit. I make sure Ground Zero is buffed, polished, and sportin' a definite showroom shine, and take steps to ensure that the window between peak hygiene and The Reveal is as compact as possible. That's just common courtesy.

Barry:
Personally, I like to knock out at least three of her five senses with a little vodka before we get betwixt the sheets, preferably vision, smell, and feeling...but really, any three will work.

"I can't feel anything."
"That's because you're drunk, you dirty, dirty whore."

~fin~

They Took Our Jobs!

Barry Does Race Relations

"This is for Birmingham, bitch."

DoF Chat logs: Vol 1.

From time to time (fine, everyday) we distract each other from the soul-defeating realities of this world to cultivate laughter via email.

Not what you get here is pure gold, but there is at least some amethyst, or maybe quartz in these emails.

This is just a sampling.

Barry Metropolis: "I think we're the only ones that haven't started our holiday weekend yet.

BTW, what's up with only saying 'have a safe weekend' of the big three summer holidays? Are there an inordinate number of drunk people who don't wear their seat belts and exceed the speed limit over those weekends? Are there more 'I didn't know it was loaded' incidents? Are there more unprotected, one-night hookups?

I don't know about you guys, but I'm as (un)safe this weekend than any other."

Reno Gruber: "I think its code for 'Drunkenly Drive with caution.' I plan on getting taxis everywhere.

(Which itself is code for 'get my friends to drive drunk instead of me')"

Merton Sussex: "I guess statistically, on the BIG holidays, people do tend to booze it up a lot more heavily. The Milwaukee County Mass Transit System used to offer free bus rides on Memorial Day, the 4th of July, St. Paddy's, Labor Day, and New Year's. Of course, it being Milwaukee, this hardly made a dent in the DUI rate. But at least they made the effort. And it's not like people waited for decent holidays to obliterate themselves. Arbor Day was just as valid. Shit, TUESDAY even worked for most of 'em.

There's a lesson for all of us in there, I guess. It just depends on which direction you wanna go with it."

Reno: "The lesson I extract is if you're going to create a beer-laden environment, be prepared for drunks.

Most cities its a weekends deal. Milwaukee, it's a lifestyle."

Merton: "I love Wisconsin. I love coming here. I've performed here, a lot because I've discovered that you people apparently have some sort of federal grant for drinking. You're insane! You pay less for liquor than anybody I know anywhere else in the country. Nobody pays less for liquor than you. What are you? I don't know if you're using that farm subsidy money or if you're just hijacking liquor trucks, but this is fuckin' insane. Is it volume? It's unbe-fuckin'-lievable! It's staggering!

I come here because basically, if I spend four days drinking here, even with the plane ticket, it's cheaper than drinking in New York.

How do you know when it's New Year's? That's the big mystery to me. What's the difference? I've been in bars here, and it's like New Year's every fuckin' night! 'Oh, New Year's, that when we, uh, drink with hats on.'

I've been drunker here than anyplace else I've ever been in my life. And remember this: You are NOT alcoholics. You, and, my hat is off to you...You? You are professionals."

-Lewis Black.

U of M(orons)

Each year at around this time, the University of Minnesota hosts its Spring Jam, a three-layered celebration of the rebirth. At the core, there's the contemptuous student body, angry and stressed after a semester of annotated bibliographies, geographic term memorization, and overt repression. (Seriously, dude, we gotta take this to the streets.) This is surrounded by the fleshy innards that is the student psyche: a desire to make an lasting impression in the world but no tools to implement this change (except a binge drinking habit and some matches). To top it off, there is the glaze of the fest aura itself: Drunk kids partying and listening to music outside in the rainy 45-degree weather. Put it all together, you have the makin's of some serious social upheaval...or at least a small bonfire and some tear gas.

Watch the local news story here.

Highlights: 1)(0:49 remaining) Either this guy was walking straight towards a gun barrel or he had no idea what he had coming. In any event, it's pretty hilarious.

2)(0:15 remaining) Thoughts from the newsroom editor: "All right, gang. This shot doesn't illustrate the causation of the story as a whole, but we're still going to include it. As a duty to our community, we have to belittle the young-adult populace so as to boost our own importance. Mass Media 101. Any questions?"

3)(0:10 remaining) Same as no. 2, only after Student McTard got done with that display of eloquence, some drunk douche from the background should have started the slow clap. "Beautiful, man. Like, that was right on. So mint."

Hot Sh!t: Stephen Strasburg

In this age of steroid use in baseball, rarely do you see the kind of stunning natural talent and ability that Mr. Strasburg displays. Hey batters: instead of wetting your pants when that nasty curve comes around, take a ball! Oh, wait... It's not going to matter once he throws that 101 mph heat. Take a look at highlights from this complete-game, 23-strikeout shutout performance:

Click here for the video.

Here's to hoping he doesn't end up substitute teaching at his old middle school, hitting on his high-school sweetheart in front of her dweeby fiance, and launching partially nude, herpe-ish crack whores off the back of his jet-ski.



Click here for the video.

The Coming of the NILF

A Brief Analysis of the World's Hottest Newswomen
by barry metropolis

After a long day at the office, there's nothing more refreshing than crackin' open an ice-cold cup of tap water and turning on the news to see the latest in the impending end of civilization, our planet's demise, and Britney's cooter cleavage. The advent of 24-hour news networks brought with it hoards of additional news anchors, reporters, correspondents, pundits, and analysts--some of which, thankfully, are women. And these aren't your run-of-the-mill butter faces, either. We're talking deliciously smokin'-hot babes. Yes, this 21st century gave birth to the ravishing reporter, the electrifying anchor, the consummate correspondent, the NILF (newswoman I'd like to...well, you get the idea). In that light, I decided to share with my audience several personal favorites and illustrate how each has had a profound impact on my manhood.

After discussing the ins and outs of each NILF, an overall score will be given by means of the Boner Meter, which includes the following scores (from lowest to highest): "It Moved a Little," "Semi," "Noticeably Aroused," "It's Horizontal," and "Does Anyone Have an Old Sock?". I say "lowest to highest" but I should actually say "high to highest" because it takes a lot to get ol' Barry even slightly aroused. Just ask my past lovers. So congratulations and thank you to all of these women of the news for successfully starting a fire in my trousers or a regular basis.

I should let you know at the outset that I'm a self-proclaimed assman. A woman has much more control over the size and shape of her ass compared to, let's say, breast size or facial structure. Therefore, if woman has the motivation and stoicism to get her bountiful butt cheeks in bulbous form, she's all right in my book. But therein lies the problem: the news is a face-up industry (maybe chest, if you're lucky). If you're into news, you've got to have the goods in the upper 10%, or you're gonna be stuck either in a DJ booth jawin' about the latest celebrity lovechild or at a keyboard blogging about hot women.

Disclaimer: By the end of this post, someone will undoubtedly be thinking, "Oh, come on! You left out that stunner from KBTJ in Asheville, North Carolina!" And you know what? You're right. As a matter of fact, many hot newswomen will be left out of this not-very-extensive list. I'm simply calling attention to a few that I fantasize about regularly. So just put your dick back in your pants and chill out.

Rachel Maddow, host of The Rachel Maddow Show on Air America Radio and political analyst for MSNBC - Just kidding. Actually, she's the most insightful out of all of them, but she looks way too much like she's hiding a penis betwixt her thighs. And she prefers the vag. ***Boner Meter: Shrinkage


Heather Nauert, co-host of the weekday edition of FOX's The Big Story - You can't swing a dead cat inside FOX News Studios without hitting some drop-dead gorgeous newswoman. It's a shame they have to work for the saddest, most corrupt news network in the U.S. Regardless, Heather does a quality job reporting the quasi-news, and she does so with a surprising air of authority. Her speech is articulate, and her coverage is well-rounded--not unlike her supple bosom. Combine that with her sea-blue eyes, ivory-white smile, and chiseled jaw line, and you can instantly see how I'd like to bend her over a news desk. ***Boner Meter: It Moved a Little. Normally Heather would earn a higher score, but there is a mandatory deduction for anyone who got a professional start by giving hand-jobs to Rupert Murdoch.



Ann Curry, anchor for NBC's The Today Show - The undisputed winner of the M/NILF division. I'm not sure what makes her so appealing. Maybe it's my unresolved Oedipal complex, or maybe it's her interesting ethnic makeup (Scots-Irish, French, and Japanese, who wouldda thought?). In any case, Ann may be pushing 52, but she's as vivacious and sprightly as teeny-bopper at a Jonas Brothers concert. And those legs...mmmmmm...(easy, Barry). Thank you, Ann, for giving me hope that my future wife will still make my wiener do crazy things well into my golden years. Gross. ***Boner Meter: It Moved a Little. She's a little too perky in the morning. Perhaps if she spent a week on the rigorous Barry Metropolis BJ & Breakfast Program, she'd be "Semi" material.



Michelle Bernard, MSNBC political and legal analyst and president of the Independent Women's Forum - Any woman who takes the camera off Chris Matthews' comatose face during Hardball is damn fine to me (exception: Rachel Maddow, see above). It might be Chris's ass-white complexion juxtaposed with Michelle's milk-chocolatey face that makes me want to rip off, ahem... I mean, gently remove that pants suit and get down and dirty. In all honesty, though, her lips are mesmerizing. She almost always has that porn star lip gloss on, and I sometimes wonder if she's sporting 7-inch platforms under the news desk. One can only hope... ***Boner Meter: Semi.




















Lauren Sanchez, co-anchor for the My13 News (FOX) in Los Angeles - You know when you're in the middle of a great pornographic movie and your frat brother starts talking during the money shot? Pretty annoying, right? So I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Wait, let's first cheers our PBRs. ***Boner Meter: Noticeably Aroused. It could have been higher, but she has a kid with Kansas City Chiefs tight end Tony Gonzalez. Talk about a tough act to follow.

Julie Banderas, host of the weekend edition of FOX's The Big Story - Chalk another one up for FOX. Damnit. Ah well...Best known for her cat-fight with crazy-person protester Shirley Phelps-Roper, Julie had her nationwide newscasting just over three years ago and has been making my dinghy tingle ever since. She also scratches that ethnic-woman itch I've had since that extended weekend in Cabo. (Not literally an itch from an ethnic woman. A metaphoric one.) In other news, her last name is actually Bidwell, not Banderas. Sounds like someone has an affinity for Mr. Antonio Banderas. Great, me too. Or she could be wanting to outwardly express she is of Latina descent. I like the former. ***Boner Meter: Noticeably Aroused. Her sass coupled with her beauty is crippling. She would have a perfect score, but the FOX rule is in effect (see: Nauert).

Olivia Zaleski, Huffington Post environmental columnist - I've got to hand it to a woman who makes her life's work in the "green" movement. This young buttercup is fresh out of college, and her innocence is reeks like a Victoria Secret perfume. Olivia is actually the inspiration behind this post. She is what I like to call good breeding stock--someone with whom you might not necessarily "get along" or "be compatible" but rather someone with whom you'd produce impeccable offspring (mostly thanks to her). You know, those blonde-haired, blue-eyed types the Nazis raved about. And judging by her apparent Polish ancestry, our kids would demand a diet filled with the finest beers and sausages in all the lands. Beautiful. ***Boner Meter: It's Horizontal. She does say "ummm" a tad too often. And that's, like, not cool.



Melissa Theuriau - Melissa and I got off to a great start, and then I found out she's French. There's only so much respect I can hold for a population who has an enormous phallus as their country's most recognizable landmark. But then, as if she were a siren of the Greek Isles, her newscast sucked me into this weird love trance. It's almost like flowers and sunshine flow from her mouth as she speaks. I mean, I was so transfixed the first time I saw her, I watched her deliver the news in French for four minutes without even noticing any time had gone by (give it a try; check out the video below). Language aside, she's got that perfect-ten natural beauty...just an all-encompassing, boner-riffic beauty. And for anyone that disagrees, I suggest you check to make sure your balls are still attached to your body. Plus, she's probably into the European-style hairy dudes, which is of particular interest to any of us who can braid our ass hair. ***Boner Meter: Does Anyone Have an Old Sock? Do a YouTube search of Melissa. Aaaaannnd, you're welcome.





Lara Logan, CBS's Chief Foreign Affairs Correspondent - I first fell in love with Lara when she dropped an f-bomb The Daily Show (June 17, 2008 episode). That was also the episode in which she stated she'd want to "blow her brains out" if she watched any news in the United States. Despite the comment's justification, she still, of course, caught heat from the general public and mass media. Don't worry, Lara honey. I'll never judge you with such superficiality. How could I? With her enticing South African accent, cougar-like quality (she's 37), stunning swimsuit-model body, and dirty sailor mouth, she's an embodiment of the perfect woman. (Except she got knocked up by some contractor while filing reports in Iraq, but those are mere footnotes.) ***Boner Meter: Does Anyone Have an Old Sock? Hey, she may be preggers, but that just means she has no reservations about pre-marital sex. A-O.K.

Well, that about wraps it up. Happy viewing, friends.

What do you say when someone sends you this email?

by barry metropolis

The following email was received by a friend of mine from one of his colleagues. He asked me, "What do you say when someone sends you this email?" Needless to say, I didn't know what to tell him.

Friends,

Below is a letter published in the Richmond Times Dispatch, July 7, 2008, by a former Cuban refugee. (Check it out on their website.) This can be fodder for you to persuade those who are unhappy with our current administration to think twice about voting for Barak Hussein Obama for President. History repeats itself.

Beware Charismatic Men Who Preach 'Change'

Editor, Times-Dispatch:

Each year I get to celebrate Independence Day twice. On June 30 I celebrate my independence day and on July 4 I celebrate America's. This year is special, because it marks the 40th anniversary of my independence.

On June 30, 1968, I escaped Communist Cuba and a few months later I was in the United States to stay. That I happened to arrive in Richmond on Thanksgiving Day is just part of the story, but I digress.

I've thought a lot about the anniversary this year. The election-year rhetoric has made me think a lot about Cuba and what transpired there. In the late 1950s, most Cubans thought Cuba needed a change, and they were right. So when a young leader came along, every Cuban was at least receptive.

When the young leader spoke eloquently and passionately and denounced the old system, the press fell in love with him. They never questioned who his friends were or what he really believed in. When he said he would help the farmers and the poor and bring free medical care and education to all, everyone followed. When he said he would bring justice and equality to all, everyone said "Praise the Lord." And when the young leader said, "I will be for change and I'll bring you change," everyone yelled, "Viva Fidel!"

But nobody asked about the change, so by the time the executioner's guns went silent the people's guns had been taken away. By the time everyone was equal, they were equally poor, hungry, and oppressed. By the time everyone received their free education it was worth nothing. By the time the press noticed, it was too late, because they were now working for him. By the time the change was finally implemented Cuba had been knocked down a couple of notches to Third-World status. By the time the change was over more than a million people had taken to boats, rafts, and inner tubes. You can call those who made it ashore anywhere else in the world the most fortunate Cubans. And now I'm back to the beginning of my story.

Luckily, we would never fall in America for a young leader who promised change without asking, what change? How will you carry it out? What will it cost America?

Would we?

Manuel Alvarez Jr. Sandy Hook.


Hoooh-kay, so, where to begin? First of all, no one cares that you celebrate Independence Day twice, you crap sandwich.

More importantly, how Mr. Alvarez can link these "similarities" to eventual doom for America is unfathomable. I mean, I know he may not have been around this country for 9th grade civics, but we have these three branches of government, a system of checks and balances, and ....uhhh.... what's that last thing? Oh yeah, the goddamn U.S. Constitution. However much abuse, misuse, and sheer ignorance is thrown around Washington and the rest of the country, I still go to bed every night feeling certain that my country will be a representative democracy when I wake up.

After perusing the Richmond Times-Dispatch (actual name of the paper) for a while--mostly the Letters to the Editor section--I realized where all these out-of-touch voters who elect retarded men are coming from. Seriously, put down the Busch Heavy and the Copenhagen Fine Cut and read a newspaper. Our country relies on a well-informed citizenry to function properly. No wonder we're all floating on urinal cake right now.

Mr. Alvarez doesn't piss me off the most, though. He was just voicing his worries because some fear-mongering Virginian legislator is probably whispering those sweet nothings into his ear, so we can't expect him to know any better (even though he should). No, the big asshole in this whole equation is my buddy's colleague. Talk about an awkward position to put everyone on your mass-email list in. Have some fucking consideration! And invoking "Hussein"? What's in a name anyway, you rabble-rousing son of a bitch? Are you going to start hatin' on Muhammad Ali for having an Islamic name? Or are you going to stop bringing your car to Timmy's Tire and Lube because Timothy McVeigh shares the same name? Give me a break...

But if Mr. Alvarez is right... if Barack Obama is elected to our nation's highest power... if he does turn into an oppressive, cigar-puffing dictator... I know where I'm going:

The DoF Definitive Guide to Bicycle Commuting

A Metropolis/Fridley Joint


With rising gas prices blah blah blah blah, people are parking their cars and trading them in for two wheels, a set of pedals and a seriously bruised taint. But hey, beats paying $100/week to choke the Earth, drown the polar bears and send more soldiers across the ocean to meet a pointless demise just because they wanted money for school, and possibly, a free "Army of One" t-shirt. (Seriously though, how many lead stories do we have to withstand concerning how high gas prices are before people, oh, I don't know... fucking shut the hell up and ADAPT! A-hem. Sorry about that. I digress.)


For those of you new to the ever-growing bike brigade, DoF scribes and fellow bike commuters (not to mention owners of some seriously cut quads) Blaine Fridley and Barry Metropolis are here to make your transition from steering wheel and spacious trunk to handle bars and a milk crate a seamless and satisfying one with an invaluable list of biking DOs and DON'Ts for you to print off, laminate and wear around your neck.


THE DOs and DON'Ts of BICYCLE COMMUTING


DO use 7-time Tour de France winner Lance Armstrong as inspiration during particularly tough rides.

DON'T tell everyone in the office that like Lance, you ride with one testicle. Though, unlike Lance, your missing gonad is not a battle scar from a heroic, inspiring battle against cancer, but a result of a 4th of July parlour trick gone horribly awry, when you bet your cousin $5 you could shoot an M-80 out of your ass. You did not win.




DO wear the appropriate moisture-wicking clothing during your ride, as to avoid the pungent SwAsS (aka: swass, aka: Sweaty Ass Syndrome). It makes for a long, embarrassing workday. Trust us.

DON'T pedal down to REI and purchase the GORE Bike Wear(TM) 57% Polyamide, 23% Elastane, 20% Polyester, full-body, color coordinating biking suit...

...but DO chuckle to yourself when you pass one of these douche bags on the road, knowing full well that he is compensating for his small penis...and one 'nad.




DO become familiar with hand signals and the various "rules of the road", remembering that if you're riding in the street, you must adhere to the same basic traffic laws as automobiles.

DON'T forget to always wipe from front to back. This has nothing to do with biking, but is a good lesson to remember nonetheless.


DO know that Rad is one kick-ass movie.

DON'T ever forget that shit.





DO invest in some basic bicycle hardware supplies, like a wrench of some sort, some WD-40, and perhaps a spare tire tube or two if you're feeling ambitious. (Even if you don't end up using all these maintenance tools, you ball is guaranteed to get larger if you have them somewhere in you vicinity.) Remember, your bicycle is - in its basic form - a piece of machinery, just like your body. And like your body, your bike will need to be cleaned, lubed and ridden regularly.



DON'T get discouraged about flat tires, hemorrhoids and other miscellaneous mishaps. Think of it as a sacrifice for the planet and your pocketbook. Certainly, don't begin driving your car everywhere because chances are some little Asian lady will accidentally smash into you whilst pulling out of your parking lot*.

*based on truelife events. Not a stereotype. Well, it is. But damn it all, it happened. What am I supposed to do?








DO feel free to use your new bike commute as a way to bag some new poon.

Ex: "What's up, hot chick? The name's Metropolis. Sagittarius. Bike 12 miles a day."

DON'T attempt above with a severe case of SwAsS.












DO properly lock your bike at all times when it's not in use.

DON'T ever sleep on Francis Buxton, that fat, over-privelaged neighbor of yours. He desperately wants your bike. And that conniving tub of goo will totally take it, too.

We Gather Here Today...

After gratefully accepting an offer to the DoF's masthead over a month ago, I have yet to make a post. Since I basically got through college giving excuses for my inadequacy, I feel the urge to continue (that's what she said).

I originally intended to "use my lunch break" to write posts, so you could imagine the rude awakening I had when my place of employment--a mecca of technological retardedness--began restricting Web sites, which instantly cut in half my list of daily bookmark visits (e.g. coedswithdonkeys.com, venerealdiseaseguideforthetwentysomething.com, and milfconnection.com). Combine that with a less-than-stellar home computer and rigorous nightly marathon training (no, I didn't shit my pants), you've got my excuse. That would have definitely earned me at least a C- back in school.

Uhhh, a little about myself: I love tight asses, my chest hair, pissing and moaning about life (I should fit in well here), and a nice, fat doobie. Okay, we shall commence...

Ding, Dong! Ding, Dong! Do you hear those wedding bells a-ringin'? Yes this summer's wedding season is off in full force, and it has fueled me with enough piss and vinegar to drown a lamb. Now, I'm not one to turn down a free meal and an opportunity to publicly humiliate myself, so I've RSVP-ed to five (count 'em, five) to take place this summer. The most recent one I attended, the bride-to-be was a coworker of mine--who I've affectionately nicknamed "T-bone." Because of the proximity of my workstation to hers, I can tell you everything you need to know about a wedding from the acceptable amount of cleav to show in one's wedding gown to the number of people who can comfortably cut a rug on a 20'x20' dance floor. I'll tell ya, I've heard more than I need to know. Lately I've had to go home after work and watch some cuts from the Iron Eagle series just to boost my testosterone.

It's not just the wedding talk that has me miffed; it's the whole idea of weddings. All the pomp and circumstance, indulgence, excess, and sheer waste. One wedding I attended, I saw a server throw away at least 40 pieces of cake. I was so appalled, I had to take a long swig of my Dewar's double malt and turn the gift drop-off site into a beer pong table just to calm my nerves. And I just read that the average cost of a wedding in the US is $30,000. 30K?! That's fucking despicable. I can't even spend that much on hookers and blow over the entire Labor Day weekend! Well, however much these nuptial events cost, that tenderloin is mighty tasty...

Okay, okay, I understand: it's a once-in-a-lifetime celebration where a father gives away a daughter, two lives become one, and fornication becomes lovemaking. But what ever happened to a bit of originality? Sure, tradition and religion have had a choke hold on weddings for a coon's age, but does the Scripture reading always have to be 1 Corinthians or Colossians 3:12? Isn't there anything else in the Bible that has to do with love, togetherness, and unity? Can a guy get some Lord Tennyson up in this hizz-ouse? Or how about a personalized song for a first dance? I swear I'll lose it if I hear "Bless The Broken Road" one more time. (Seriously, Rascal Flatts? I can just picture that lead singer's turkey neck shake like a bowl of Jell-O...)

Speaking of choice words, I cannot believe some of "best man/maid of honor" speeches. Before these keynote orators take to the microphone, I always envision these "eulogies of independence" to go something like this: "Mindy and I were roommates freshman year, and I knew, like, right away that we were going to be, like, BFF..." or "Jeff, remember that one time we were wasted driving down by the river and you puked on that dead porcupine?! Oh my God, that RULED. Or that one time at Billy's barbecue party...?!" Because everyone knows what happened at Billy's barbecue...

But you know, congratulations to T-bone. She's one hell of a human, and I hope her big day was all she expected it to be and more. By the way, T-bone, one of your bridesmaids and I got sauced off peppermint schnapps in my hotel room and we made out all night. She had a real cow tongue. Enjoy your new toaster...