Too full of ribs. Can’t speak. Food has moved past belly, broken into some form of meat mash, and filled all the nooks and crannies of my body. Honestly. If I cut my finger, pork would ooze out.

Mmmm. Appetizing.

My Father has hogged Command Central Monkey Pants all day — before and after supper time — hence the late hour and and my propensity to burp atomized meat particulates onto the monitor. My bad.

Please allow me to mollify your desperate yearnings for my concise and heartrending reflections on life in contemporary society (quick taste: “fluffy kittens = good; blood-drenched gila monsters = depends on situation”) with a brief glimpse into the world of competitive thumb tasting:

I think he’s winning.

• Metro.co.uk: “It’s dove at first sight” (via Cute Overload)

Read the story.

Then be certain to mop up the remnants of your heart from the floor. It could leave a stain.

At the beginning of the August, My Lovely Wife and I took a trip to visit my mother. We spent a lot of time looking through photo albums. My Lovely Wife definitely had more than her fill of seeing evidence of my early and ubiquitous trend toward — ahem — naturism.

I… uh… you won’t be seeing those pictures.

Unless I decide to drunkblog.

Which would be dangerous.

[Shifty eyes.]

But I did come across one photo that made me squeal with unrestrained glee.

Clicken to embiggen

I call on you — my faithful and relatively hygienic readers — to help me discover its true yet heretofore undiscovered caption.

Hit the comments. Suggest your own. Pick yer favs. We’ll try and winnow it down to a winner.

And then we’ll slap the caption on that puppy.

Hell, if this goes well, it may become a recurring feature.

LOLSWEEN.

Get cracking, kids.