I feel like the two types of comments in this thread basically sum up the Gawker!Jezebel versus Feministing!Jezebel culture wars.
Holy cow, I discovered mozzarella burrata this year, too!
But I was in Rome, traveling while studying abroad, which is either more or less bourgeois.
Actually, my brother and I played house with Legos and racecars (they went to school and everything). So we had a bit of a compromise situation.
I hated Barbies because I couldn't get their hair brushed and straight for anything.
I have just the fattest stuffed Pikachu that I got for my birthday (but that my little brother then also wanted, so that my father BETRAYED me and claimed it was for both of us to share).
It is so awesome.
It is so awesome.
Also, the shadows are all wrong!
"Perhaps that's why 20% of the cookies and apple pies sold by McDonald's are at breakfast."
Or maybe that's because Egg McMuffins are gross, and cookies and apple pies are awesome.
#controversialIknow
Or maybe that's because Egg McMuffins are gross, and cookies and apple pies are awesome.
#controversialIknow
Dear Comments on Suri's Frowny Face,
How dare you criticize her for not smiling! She is an empowered woman who can make whatever faces she wants! Her face just is that way! You are soooo patriarchal.
Yours Truly,
Offended
How dare you criticize her for not smiling! She is an empowered woman who can make whatever faces she wants! Her face just is that way! You are soooo patriarchal.
Yours Truly,
Offended
MCR should put that in their lyrics.
I, personally, can't wait to find out that the events of Reamde are all because of philosophical robots with a strange attachment to the hidden connections between Zoroastrianism and amino acids.
But Snakes on a Plane taught me that pheromones explain everything! Everything the media taught me is a lie.
(Side note: Personally, I find that blaming things on pheromones is a great way of not having to explain crazy behavior in myself, my friends, or others.)
EDIT: [en.wikipedia.org] <= PROOF, I tell you, PROOF.
(Side note: Personally, I find that blaming things on pheromones is a great way of not having to explain crazy behavior in myself, my friends, or others.)
EDIT: [en.wikipedia.org] <= PROOF, I tell you, PROOF.
It's true that, other than friends I frequently talk to, I basically look at a) photos of people with changed relationship statuses and b) photos of pretty people.
I tried that Miracle Bra on at Victoria's Secret that one time, as an experiment, but when I looked in the mirror at my A-turned-C cup breasts, I experienced what surely must be the reverse of body dysmorphic disorder, where my brain accurately saw my chest but simply refused to acknowledge that it could be possible. Kind of like it wasn't really my body I was looking at.
Needless to say, more power to all of you that can work a Miracle Bra, but I dropped that purchasing plan like a hot potato.
Needless to say, more power to all of you that can work a Miracle Bra, but I dropped that purchasing plan like a hot potato.
REEEAD IT.
The only thing I have to say about that scene in A Storm of Swords is "GRRRRRRRRRRM!"
Fortunately, the only time I've ever been stung, I was at the house of a nurse practitioner. Apparently soaking a towel in rubbing alcohol and holding it to your sting until it stops hurting is the most effective, though vinegar works too.
I have to give Bantam and ASoIaF every credit human possible for not having fallen into the Darrell K. Sweet trap.
(Dammit, Tor!)
(Dammit, Tor!)
Wow, all these comments providing examples of foul-mouthed arts and crafts are introducing me to a whole new side of domesticity.
A close friend of mine was run over by a bike the day after her prom. Apparently, one moment she was strolling around the city streets, and the next moment she was on the ground, concussed, upskirted, and with tire tracks right up her chest.
So if her Night Was Magical, then she'll never know, because she lost her memory of said night after her hit-and-run bike accident.
I've been terrified of city bikers ever since she told me this story.
So if her Night Was Magical, then she'll never know, because she lost her memory of said night after her hit-and-run bike accident.
I've been terrified of city bikers ever since she told me this story.
So, folks, what madness shall this hurricane season bring? Catatonia or cannibalism?
Yeah, I went to Greece and Turkey (alone, me and my 64 inches of pure sinew*) for spring break, and the amount of harassment was just unbelievable. And, as bonus, every other male I passed in the street thought it would be bonus fun to guess if I was Japanese, Korean, Thai, Taiwanese, Chinese, Malay (in one particularly bad guess), or Singaporean.**
*And by "sinew," I mean "flesh."
**Answer: American.
*And by "sinew," I mean "flesh."
**Answer: American.
