Oldernowiser

I admit I smirk a little at the idea that he’s introducing Felicity to these “special places,” like she claps her little hands together, and trills,”Oh Pater, this little bistro is just devine! The hip yet down-home ambience, the cheeky bouquet of their house merlot, and the insouciance of their deconstructed breakfast traditions...scrapple! It’s just too TOO!!!” Face it, Jer, the kid’s thoughts are “Mom. Dad. Annoying headband. Full diaper.”

I would be shocked if there was actually fish in that “sushi,” let alone raw fish. Probably avocado (hence the photo) and maybe some Velveeta.

Do you think it’ll possible that Jill understands just enough about copyrights that she uses this lie to cover her tracks? After all, it was the fictional “dear friend” who stole the recipe, not sweet little Jill.

Yayy!

Is that prairie thing from the 80s coming back? If so, that might explain that dress. We wore ruffles. We wore full skirts and concha belts. We wore JUMPERS with ruffles. And I was working at Conde Nast (home to Vogue, Mademoiselle and Self) at the time. Must go lie down until the visuals pass.

If you’re going to use that much tomato juice, throw in some vodka, pour it over ice and be done with it.

So Carrot versus stick, yes? Makes sense. So Mr. Wiser and I were wondering the other day if after you go to heaven you get to do all the things various religions say you’re not supposed to do because what are they gonna do, send you back? I like to picture a bunch of badass angels stomping around heaven smoking Camel nonfilters, shooting heroin, twerking, playing high-stakes poker and yelling FUCK!!! at the top of their lungs all day.

Okay, in the spirit of the holidays, I tried to keep this thought to myself. But WTH, misery loves company...anyone else wondering how “yaaay” figures in when they’re having sex? I’m sorry. Sort of.

She’s completely adorable. Hope Duggaritis doesn’t screw that up.

Unless you stopped for lunch at Chik-a-filla or Tacos for Life afterward, I think you’re okay. This time.

Dear Santa: I know this is last minute, but now all I want for Christmas is an arch-backed pouting Instagram of Jessa modeling that dress. Thank you, ONW Jesus, that dress. I can smell it from here.

Yikes. A least throw a wide belt over that schmatta, aka, “the shirt my deceased grandfather wore for thirty years when he went out to chop firewood.”

I wonder what would have happened if any of these insta-couples had birthed an unattractive colicky nonstop screamer. (And yes, all babies are beautiful but let’s face it, some take a while...my own nephew has incredibly attractive, intelligent parents and the kid’s first couple of years he was...neither. My secret name for him is Baby Potato Head.) I don’t see that going well. OTOH, the Duggar family’s only real skill is denial, so maybe they would have convinced themselves Screamer Baby was just perfect.

Here, let me get you a drink... (My guess is you were typing broker, banker, or backer. Autocorrect has made me look stupid more than a few times and I don’t need the help!)

Laid. The rest didn’t really dawn on him until too late.

Okay I watched that video and now hate myself a little more. Question 1) what movies is Bridegroom Dude watching for tips and techniques? Because that was...uncomfortable to watch. Question 2) was there a high wind or an earthquake? Why was Abbie swaying like that? Whatever. I wish them happiness and a manageable number of offspring.

I’m so sorry. It hurts so much to lose one of our animal family. Sending you a hug.

Okay, I tried. It made my head hurt. But it’s like staring at a sleeve of no-salt Saltines and trying to pick a favorite. They’re all the same...tasteless and identical. Closest I can get is Abby and she’s only a proxy Duggar.

Okay, if I really have to, but I’m getting mine neutered.

Henry looks a lot like Josie.

Right now all is well in his domain, so I really don’t think he would cheat. However...in ten years when his life isn’t the highly lucrative cake walk with Jesus he thinks he has coming and Jinger has five kids and is Over It (or possibly worse, has a case of Anna-itis and just wants more babies) I could see him having a big old midlife crisis involving a new young thing who will feed his ego. Maybe not. (Lose the bowtie. But points for that bow on Felicity instead of the Turban Bucket.)

Those are not cinnamon rolls. That’s pie crust. Girl. Stop taking out your deeply buried frustrations on innocent yeast dough. Put the rolling pin down or put it to use more directly... which brings me to “120 lb talking asshole,” a phrase I must give a standing ovation. Bravo!!!

Gothard has successfully created a sexual abuse factory. That wretched, creepy, bastard. As an atheist, I find myself almost wishing hell existed just so he would be so very surprised when he dies, which cannot be soon enough. OTOH, the parents who buy in and inflict this pathology on their children are in some ways worse. I feel so sad and sick for the poor victims. Gah.

So missioncations are TAX DEDUCTIBLE? I just threw up a little.

Looks like a gussied-up warehouse. Which is what it’s been, really.