In ""Oprah had become my first of many code names""

This woman needs help. Bob Schieffer's been threatening to anal rape me for years. Do I whine about it to a judge? NO! I just wrapped the tv in aluminum foil and buried it in the yard beside all the pornographic letters Ed Mcmahon used to send me.

In "80's music nostalgia wave!"

I will accept nothing less than a Big Black reunion.

In "Curious George: Poison Ivy"

My father kept a jug of hydrochloric acid in the garage for when we yonkers got poison ivy. It basically removed the first couple of layers of skin from the affected area, carrying off the offending urushiol oil. He would pour it onto a rag and then dap it onto whoever's hand, leg, etc. needed doctoring. The burning was unspeakable, something akin to the lye scene in "Fight Club." We learned to suffer poison ivy in silence after a few doses. Better the disease than the cure.

(limited to the most recent 20 comments)