But only in a drunken stupor, right? So it doesn't even count.

I KNOW, RIGHT? My husband has seen me poop and fart and has helped me through terrible menstrual cramps and has seen my cloth menstrual pads soaking and he will NEVER EVER EVER see my junior high poetry. EVER. I don't even let myself read that shit.

Dude. I worked at a book store where the dress code was basically "don't be naked," and still one day when I wore one of my dad's old flannel shirts a manager told me I looked "kind of dykey"

There was this brilliant PSA recently put out by the government of Canada about how women shouldn't drink as much as men because of body weight or whatever. The tagline? "It's not SEXISM......... it's SCIENCE!"

He reminds me of this Iranian guy I used to occasionally swing dance with who thought that "Sure, we're walking the same direction towards the bus stop, you can walk with me" meant "I want to make out with you in an alley, TIGER"

Ooh! Ooh! And you know what you should do if you can't find bras that fit? Get a boob job! Clothes aren't supposed to be tailored to fit people, people are supposed to be tailored to fit clothes. Duh.

Uhhh, marry Chester 5000. Obviously Chester.

Uh, you do realize that was tongue-in-cheek? This whole thing is satire.

I think it's really unfortunate that she didn't know who Lafreniére is— there have been a lot of problems with the police in Montreal, but I really admire the way Lafreniére has dealt with things, for the most part. During the protests, after reports of police pepperspraying people in the face (this did happen; I…

#trollpatrol

Is... isn't anyone else sad about how Johanna looks like an anemic Victorian lady?