I didn't follow baseball when I was a kid, so I'm still growing through the "screaming/crying/throwing up" phase as a 41 year old man. I aim to be something close to normal by age 50.

Do I hear wedding bells?

Big same! It's a hell of a yard, too.

I worked in support at early Twitter and a shocking portion of my team's time was spent piecing together breadcrumbs to restore short usernames back to their rightful owners.

That, and helping teens get their One Direction fan accounts back paid my rent for several years.

Shit. That means I'm not getting paid for today.

Waffle House chic.

Ms. Frizzle navigating that piece around some truly horrifying material.

Hell yeah! Juice that star!

I’d rather interact with the haunted doll.

I’m disgusted that they didn’t show Dodi Al-Fayed the same respect.

Someone dropped Gumby on the barbershop floor.

There's a decent crossover on the venn diagram of people who are mad about "six-seven" and people who tried to get "the narwhal bacons at midnight" to happen.

PSA 10 Gem Mint.

At least this is happening at a time of year when very few people are traveling.

What are we doing to pizza that it needs two oils and a vinegar?

I demand to speak to the manager of medicine!

I remember eating those by the handful out of the steakhouse fridge and chasing them with half-and-half shots.

This post is brought to you by weed.