That book was turned into a movie during the silent film era. Yeah, it was crap. Nosferatu was a bit better. Vampires only became "sexy" with Dracula, and even that took huge liberties on the Bram Stoker novel. I mean, vampires are mosquitos that turn you into mosquitos. Not sexy!

Given that I read less fiction now (not by choice), I'm going to say about twenty. Almost entirely non-fiction. But I always keep a volume of short fiction on my nightstand for bedtime reading. Horror preferred. Latest nightstand reading: I Hold a Wolf by the Ears.

I and all my friends were aware of her. She was a thing. "Running Up That Hill" was a thing. People who say no one ever heard of her should be put back in their crib and given their skibbity pacifier.

Wait...a spicy middle easternish soup? Recipe request. I haven't eaten quality middle easternish food since Hurricane Katrina, when I had to give up Byblos in New Orleans. I miss it.

A very '80s Hollywood version of toxic femininity. Fall in love with your subject, keep quiet about his failings, and then get the boo-hoos about it when questioned. Nope. Not falling for it. There are lots of ethical women who should have had your job.

Looks good. I like the mix of ingredients.

Nice! There was a family-run Southern soul food place in my SoCal hometown that specialized in pork ribs, grits, baked mac'n'cheese, collard greens, etc. I can't count how many times I wandered in there, and they asked, "The usual?" It's a great feeling.

I'm just waiting for Primpin' Pete to announce that "buffed, shaped, and polished nails -- both fingers and toes -- are required of all troops under the new Uniform Code of Military Grooming. Glossy nude polish recommended, but coral pink allowed for dress occasions."

Yeah, that one's rough. It's "cancelled," but should it be? English is a language built of stolen lumber, so the normally consistent rules of our parent languages get muddled. I feel your pain.

I feel you. I'm a college English professor, and I still pause on some words. Calendar and lavender are two. And separate gave me trouble until a teacher told me, "There's a rat in it." Aaaah, got it. Sep[a rat]e.

I loved Barbara Eden. And Elizabeth Montgomery. And Lucille Ball. All of them were beautiful, funny, and gifted actors. I know there are modern equivalents, but I can only think of Tatiana Maslowy.

I can only imagine Don Jr. sobbing, "Daddy, please! He's my dealer. If you don't free him, my septum might heal."

"He got busy" = "He had to see to his hair and makeup for a TV hit."

Hell yes!

One of my students is a Gen-X disabled vet, and he's got some things to say about Whiskey Pete. Me? I never served in uniform, but I can recognize an alcoholic metrosexual prompter monkey pretending to be an Army man. Does he style his hair with butter or Jell-O? Asking for a friend.

Does she imagine we want HER? Come on! Even she's not that stupid. Deport her back to Magastan!

A drunken metrosexual prompter monkey who has no right to hold his office. This entire administration is a clown show.

Oh, I never used it as a bidet. The cute girl two doors down would have judged me. But it was definitely a drinking fountain. And we certainly attached a sprinkler head and spent the day running through the water. The 1970s.