Yeah, I bought new box springs for my thrift shop mattress. But then when we built the new place, we bought a platform bed, which I love, but does not need box springs. So I bought thrift store twin mattresses for the box springs, and now they serve double duty in the guest/media room. Normally they're stacked two box springs with a mattress on top and one behind, so kinda daybedish. And then I can make them twin beds or push them together when needed for the guest room.

I've never owned a non-futon bed. Nice and thick and solid and not springs.

Hot dogs and bologna both can be made from some fairly scary things, but not if the ingredients are listed as the meat name. Beef hot dogs, for example, have to be made from cuts of beef you'd recognize. The more appalling ingredients are listed as "byproducts," "variety meat" and "mechanically separated."

I've never understood the skeeve. If you're going to eat dead stuff you might as well eat all of it. Why is it any more gross to eat some dead cow's ground up gawd-knows-what than to eat some some dead cow's ass? Or its shoulder?

I can get objecting to a particular flavor or texture (say liver or eye-balls), but if you make eyeballs into a tasty cold cut now they're tasty. Sausages and chitterlings are just making use of all the protien at hand. And even if *I* care for whatever reason, why the hell should my dog ?

By all means, keep bleach and cow's spinal cords out of it. And if you're eating it combined with crazy amounts of preservatives and and whatever weird emulsifiers are unhealthy that seems unwise... but the actual maximizing the thing you killed usage-wise seems sensible to me.

So, I was sort of idly watching To Wong Foo, and realized that one of the redneck boys was played by Micheal Vartan. v. amusing. Oh, how far we have come.

I'm with Trudy on hotdogs and bologna. Lips and eyebrows and whatever really aren't any grosser to me than livers, and I'm happy to eat those.

I don't know why that double-posted. Oops.

Two lips, two eyebrows ...

Skip skip skippity skpping like a mad thing to say I am now the mother of a 15 year-old boy.

Nate's taller than I am, his voice is all deep (except when he's squeaking in outrage) and he'll be spending the afternoon hanging out with the girl from school that he really really likes before we take him to dinner at his favorite burger place.

Fifteen.

Hold me.

Dang, now I'm second guessing myself. This memory foam mattress is gets rave reviews and would be about the same price as what I ended up paying for a regular mattress set. [link]

Oh, no, buyer's remorse! Kill it! If you're happy with what you bought, smonster, don't worry about it. There's always something that's cheaper or looks like it might be better, but you can only know for sure about what you've got.