My wire-haired Jack Russell is 16. Last summer my parents thought it would be funny to give her a fauxhawk:

Her expression says it all, really. (Murphy looks VERY handsome.)

Fittingly, that house was torn down the year after we lived there (the landlords let us finger-paint the walls! What a great home for adults.) so I imagine that it is buried somewhere in the rubble. RIP fork.

I went to an all-girls' catholic school, which required uniforms. I would regularly just sleep in mine so as to save on valuable getting-dressed time in the morning. Thus, I would go without showering or changing my clothes for 4-5 days in a row.

Also, one time we blew up a condom on the back of the bus and it flew out the window and we all got in trouble. I was terrified of rebuke at all times, so this put me off of dirtbagdom for quite some time.

More recently, my senior year in college I lived in a hovel of an apartment. We only had one fork between four of us, so instead of BUYING MORE FORKS we would instead negotiate for fork-time. "do you have the fork?" became an oft-shouted refrain in our household.