So Larry and Heather gave Joanne and I a breadmaker for our wedding, a Mr. Loaf.

I was, needless to say, overcome with joy. Mr. Loaf was one of my contributions to the registry, solely because of the name. Mr. Loaf, you'll forgive me, is a hugely funny name. Yeah, Mr. Coffee broke this ground a long time ago, but "Loaf" is a much more amusing word than "Coffee." It's like calling a new pair of Levi's "Mr. Pants."

Unfortunately, Mr. Loaf had, um, been around. After opening the box, we found that he'd apparently been bought, abused and returned. Mr. Loaf had seen happier days.

Sad Mr. Loaf. Lonely Mr. Loaf. Dusty, kinda gross Mr. Loaf.

But when we tried to take him back to the store, they didn't have a replacement to offer. They were all out of Mr. Loaves.

They did, however, have a Breadman.

Which, of course, is Mr. Loaf's secret identity, for when he's fighting crime.