T.G.I. Friday's, a popular grease trap with a paid seating area for humans, has no fucking time to deal with your holiday-fueled stress and sadness. Now, give your barmate a kiss already, your pilot-rated waiter is watching.

Sorry, comrades: Capitalism won! If you need proof, check out the upcoming auction for all this junk from the space race-era Soviet cosmonaut program, including one adjustable-size "brown lace-up full body suit with breathing apparatus." You know, for dogs.