It's the opposite for my husband and I. He has the mountain of pillows that need to be arranged just so, while I use the 1 under my head, as God intended.
Drives me nuts and, at 6'4", he and his 4 pillows take up the majority of the bed, but I make up for it by stealing all the blankets after he's fallen asleep and wrapping myself up like a burrito. It may not seem like much, but I feel vindicated.

What happened to Ferb birth mother and Phineas and Candace's birth father? Does anyone know? And is Flynn Linda's maiden name, or was that her first husband's last name? Because if it's the latter, why would she hyphenate the names of her new husband with her old one (The Flynn-Fletchers)?

It looks drugged.

And my husband thought I was the only one. My people! I have finally found you!

Begin rant:
What I never understood is if the Prince and Cinderella spent the entire ball together, then why did the Prince know absolutely nothing about her? No name, no general vicinity of where she lived, nothing. I mean, sure, she was incognito, but she could've said something along the lines of, "Oh, I live down yonder by that well."
What the hell did they talk about all night?!
This poor slob had to scour the kingdom with nothing but a shoe. What happens if another girl with the same size foot came along, what then? Or am I suppose to believe Cinderella was the only size 6 in the Enchanted Forest?
End rant.

Here's some context for anyone unfamiliar with this show. "How It's Made" is a documentary tv series produced in Canada that shows how common everyday items are made in factories around the world. Everything from air fresheners to ice makers to trumpets. Each episode is also riddled with puns based on whatever item they're showcasing.
Side note: At the end of every episode an address is listed so that viewers can send suggestions for future shows, I've been trying to get them to go to a condom factory just so I can hear all the embarrassing puns the narrator will have to recite.

Plot twist.

This is me at every family gathering.

I've always wanted to be one of those people who could accept compliments with grace and poise... Unfortunately, my crippling awkwardness makes this virtually impossible, so I make due by blushing furiously, making a few squeaking noises, and running away.