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February 1, 2010
While visiting Jay and Scott in Indianapolis, one of the buttons on my coat falls off, prompting me to pretend to cry my mouth into a large black kidney-shaped void a la Lucille Ball wailing to Ricky or Mr. Moony. I am as nimble with a needle as I am proficient with a push-broom (it may as well be called a pull-broom), so Jay comes to the rescue with his sewing kit.

"Darling, do you know that one of these buttons is held on with a safety pin?" he asks with a gasp.

What the hell? No points for McGyverism?