I cut my toast in the "Mini Toast Rack" style, but my family calls it "butterflies". I cut my PB&J sammies (thank you, Rachael Ray!) that way too, but I cut my ham n' cheese sammies again, in the "Squares" pattern, ending up with 8 bite-sized sections.

A group of standing giraffes is called a 'tower'. When they're running, they're a herd.

It's a Steam Punk squid.

Good Marx/Bad Marx t-shirt, XL please, and thank you.

As the reddit page stated, there's a Haveteur Way in San Diego, zip code 92123. Been there for years and years, it's an old neighborhood.

Morse Code, for S.O.S.; learn it!
(..._ _ _ ...), or dot-dot-dot-dash-dash-dash-dot-dot-dot.
Maybe if the lady had been banging this, she might've been discovered sooner than 20 days. I was taught in the Boy Scouts to blow my whistle in that pattern if I was lost, too.

Looks like a blurry photo of my shower drain.

The first person who replies with "I know, right?" gets punched in the face.

They should consult the experts, who have centuries of experience with this. Eskimos. Heck, let 'em keep the meat, the cabin, whatever they want, and fly them back home afterwards.

To paraphrase Michael Dukakis/Jon Lovitz...."I can't believe we're losing to these guys!"

Yesterday, as a matter of fact, I watched from my car as a fat lady and her son wheeled a cart, overflowing with groceries, through the Vons parking lot, across a very busy street, and down the sidewalk, never to be seen again. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say she didn't bother to return it.

I, too, was trapped on this ride for about 45 minutes when I was a very young teen. The repetitive music quickly becomes a form of torture that has been recognized and banned under the Geneva Conventions, and the creepy, dirty, cracked and peeling animatronic dolls were frightening.
I refused to go on this ride ever since.