I have a headache, and people will call me asking questions that have nothing to do with me.

I've resigned myself to this. What I haven't resigned myself to are the people who will call and ask questions that have nothing to do with me after I've already redirected them to the correct people on more than on occasion.

It's like, hellooo, little monkey, are you only capable of dialing one phone number?

In fact, I would go further: Your backyard is generally not a good place for a shallow grave.

What if you've got a really, really big and heavily forested backyard?

What if you've got a really, really big and heavily forested backyard?

Yeah. That's why I said "generally." YYSfaSGMV. (Your yard's suitability for a shalow grave may vary.)

Shallow graves are rarely a good idea, especially if they can be linked to you through legal paperwork.

I have a sinus headache. Beats a migraine, hands down, but it would be nice if it were to leave.

On the advice of many wise people, I went out and had bacon.

Bacon has made my stomach happy, but it has not soothed my soul.

You didn't have enough bacon then, Dana.

What is the right dosage of bacon to combat hurricane hysteria?

I mean, when the idiots in the booth behind you at IHOP are talking about storm surge, I feel like the hurricane has already won.

Also, I can't get in touch with my husband.

Your backyard is generally not a good place for a shallow grave.

I wonder if the woman in question was just batfuck crazy enough to not feel like she had anything to cover up, and to do a piss-poor job of finishing her exorcism duties.

Bacon has made my stomach happy, but it has not soothed my soul.

For that, you'll need pie.

Also, I can't get in touch with my husband.

I'd say he needs a cell phone, but he'd actually need to turn it on and carry it with him for that to be useful.

For that, you'll need pie.

Damnit! Should have had dessert.