Right? I read “it may shift your floating ribs around a little bit, NBD,” and I know it’s supposed to be snarky, but my only reaction is, yeah, that’s probably actually NBD.

See, you could have said that instead of trying your meagre best to be clever with me. We could have been arguing all this time about how saying that you “don’t care about some controversy,” i.e., that people don’t want to be stuck on a train with imagery reminiscent of a genocidal dictatorship responsible for the…

We should go to fancy dinner parties together and I will eat your portion of Angels on Horseback (oysters wrapped in bacon) for you.

Nothing I said has to be about you, although I’m not surprised that you chose to read it as about you, since indulging in martyrdom over minor disagreements is very popular among children.

Sometimes bullying really does work.

Call me crazy, but I don’t know the address of the place where a father of a close friend, who I know personally, puts his sleazy spank bank material out there for the world to see.

The only thing that’s unfortunate for me is that you seem to have some weird problem understanding cause and effect (if you continue to talk to me I will continue to mock you), and a real hatred for the idea that brevity is the soul of wit.

They’re called irony punctuation, and are often used to mock idiots among those of us who are regularly allowed to converse with people unsupervised, and don’t have to be back in their rooms by 9 on school nights.

It’s kind of a weird statement, because outside of the handful of signifiers in the pelvis, most of the things used to suggest a skeleton’s sex (and there are several) are really just about the smaller, finer features - which could be present in a male who just happens to be small and slight. Everything outside of the…

Hopefully we’ve all learned something - me, how to kill a long pre-holiday Tuesday afternoon. You, who can say. Perhaps when to shut up?

Only slightly less traumatizing than my friend who found out her dad has a website where he un-ironically reviews porn he’s watched.

Nah, at this point you’re just touching your genitals at seeing yourself type. We’ve both adequately expressed ourselves, we still don’t agree, you continue writing page upon page of butthurt whining while I take the opportunity to laugh at you.

Truly that would stand up against most any of my family’s Norwegian cooking.

For the love of fuck, at least War and Peace had Cliffs Notes and a point.

The worst thing I’ve ever tried to choke down was some raspberry parfait thing my mother said she got from Rachael Ray but which I can’t find any evidence of. Anyway, I think we know whose branded line of cookbooks the Gawker content herders of 2087 are going to be pasting all over the internet.

In that case this is an even weirder argument for you to make, not that there’s really any rational way to have a hissyfit about t.v. while other people are upset about Holocaust imagery.

I think it’s just one of those things that weirdly never caught on on this continent. Meat in aspic is a pretty standard thing to see in Europe, and the taste is unobjectionable, so that’s not the primary reason it isn’t popular here.

Yes, that’s right, your phobia is the same as people’s reactions to Holocaust imagery, and sensitivity towards victims and their families does certainly raise questions about why everyone isn’t pandering to your every thought and feeling.

It isn’t, though, in this instance. The baby is half her ex-husband and half the surrogate’s.

“Your emotions stemming from one of the worst events of modern history are less important than my t.v. show” is a bold, not to say deeply misguided, stance to take in a public space where other adults can see you.