First of all: yes, I know it’s been a while. Offspring was here, and it was nice but also a very emotional Christmastime for me. Frankly, I’m glad to see the back of 2019 so let’s do this and then bury it.
For me, 2019 was the year I:
- Lost both of my parents in a nightmare of drama and timing no respectable novelist would pen.
- Found out my father’s “wife” hated me, and is probably still busy hating me rather than trying to negotiate a more comfortable room in hell.
- Watched my beloved brindle pup waste away and finally kissed her goodbye.
- Sent my one and only son off to a warzone.
- Lost my best friend of 28 years because I—for once in our relationship—needed her emotional support and denied her the opportunity to make my personal tragedies about her.
- Had emergency surgery to repair a 20-year-old hernia that suddenly tried to kill me.
For some of y’all 2019 was the year you asked google for deleted scenes, how to get out of accepting blame, and what to do if your husband was doing unapproved things with your panties. I know because Google brought you here, perhaps understanding I’m the only person who can nod sympathetically and without judgement when you have issues like:
I just checked, and now know how you found me; I’m sorry the post you found was exactly the opposite of your problem but maybe you still learned something? Also, Husband frequently forgets to turn his ringer back on after work, on the weekends, and—most recently—during his entire three week holiday vacation. So I’m there, trying to ring him in the world’s largest craft store to tell him I found the heat guns and he’s stomping around in the floral section complaining that I “wandered off.”
Yes, he’s got an app that schedules his silent times, but he leaves the ringer turned down so low the rest of the time that he literally has to be looking at his phone to notice anything. So you and I are floating on the same ocean, even if we’re not in exactly the same boat.
I feel you. The titular Husband is forever trying to get into mine but if I’m honest, his obsession with sexing me up is one of my favorite things about him. My advice: enjoy!
Oooooh. Okay, I see. Well, here’s the thing:
So, when you think about it, panties for men are a perfectly reasonable thing. Not that I’m going to invest or anything, because most men are way too smart to wear uncomfortable undergarments over their special places, no matter how attractive those garments might be.
how do I get my husband in panties
… Yours or his own? Because the strategies will be very different.
I am so glad this is bothering you too! Look, I stand by my original analysis but I do keep turning it over in my mind. Like, weekly. What if the gorilla had a parachute? What if the gorilla had an existing grudge against this particular duck? What if a gorilla’s reflexes are just that quick?
We may never know.
Excellent question! Always consult your veterinarian, of course, but in my experience most vets are so used to their clients defending grossly overweight pets that their normal meter is permanently borked. Place your hands around your cat, from the top, thumbs resting along his spine and splaying your fingers around his furry widdle body. You should be able to feel his ribs, but not see them. With fluffy cats, it’s a little trickier but the general guideline of being just able to feel the ribs (as though they are safely under skin and subcutaneous fat, not sticking out) still holds. You should also be able to feel the spine without prodding but not feel or see protruding vertebrae. The best way to monitor your cat’s weight is to actually weigh them periodically—I use our normal bathroom scale and step on with the cat, then without; a little math gives me his weight and a reality check on my own.
Serious question: what is wrong with you?
It wasn’t, at any point in the editing process, that sort of movie. But there’s a place for everything on the internet, so go ahead and write your David Dunn/Elijah Price erotic fanfic. I’m gonna be over here, not reading it.
I didn’t post it on reddit, and if you saw it there it’s because someone stole my life. Again. But I didn’t find anything in a cursory search, so I think we’re fine. Unless you also ate two pineapples in one go, in which case I would recommend you not wash them down with orange juice.
Look, they’re making another one so you’re just going to have to let this go. I can only hope they fix the two biggest issues with the first game: the worthless rusted scrap and the fact that you can’t ride every robot dinosaur you tame—only certain ones.
I hope someone from Guerilla Games is reading this, because we’re prepared to fork over whatever amount you ask for but we won’t tolerate this “only riding the lame ones” policy much longer.
is not found here. I’m a big believer in people being exactly as naked as they want to be.
It might have been my husband. Not just that one time in Greece, either—let’s face it, a thing once done can and will be done again. He just hasn’t told me the story.
lets be clear i did absolutely nothing wrong i’m not to blame
Let’s be clear: I don’t believe you.
 There’s a story there, but I’ve threatened to unleash it if her son doesn’t get his shit together and obey all the laws, so I’m not sharing it. For now…
 I keep feeling like I should write something about that, but I don’t know what.
 Over New Year’s; indescribable pain is my excuse for not posting lately.
 Which is kept in the guest bedroom, because I don’t need to be attacked when I’m naked and vulnerable.