"Look at it this way: You dodged a bullet, hun."

At least that's what my mom always told me.*

What a great idea - gather up all the old jewelry
that gassy waste of cytoplasm gave you
and have it melted and made into
something sentimental:

goddammo.com




*Except for the time I dated the pudgy, closeted illustrator.
That time, she said "Well, hun...he wasn't THAT special...
I mean, honestly. He was two milkshakes away
from Louie Anderson."

Zing pow to the moon, Alice. I love my mom.