Well, no, it wasn't made for that. But breasts and food do seem to be a large preoccupation of the people on it. So you can either police all of humanity (and thus change the internet) or you can leave the internet. It's really quite simple: stay and put up with boobs and food; or leave. I suppose a third option is…

I (clearly) never said she was advocating for breastfeeding rooms. She was simply breastfeeding in public. Because she thinks (and I think and many people think) that breastfeeding in public should be the new norm.

You are, indeed, consistent. Please feel free to go look at some other internet in some other world. Have a lovely day.

Social norms. In America at least, it's not OK to poop or pee in public. Until recently, women couldn't breastfeed in public. Right now, breast feeding women are trying to change the social norm that says that babies can't eat in public. We are trying to change that for good reasons — because it essentially makes new…

This argument only works if you think all eating should be private and never shown on public media.

OW! No! The poor woman attached to that breast. My boobs were so sensitive and tired when I was breastfeeding... That said, we could totally slap them upside the head with a fry pan.

The book police can suck it.

OMG yes. I consider jeans a one season investment, at best. My friends are flabbergasted, but they just wear the hell out because they are made out of cheap material. So I buy three pair at the start of the season, wear them until they shred and then toss.

Has anyone else read the Kushiel series? Because this dress is almost a perfect re-creation of a dress that the heroine wore in the first book of the series. Okay, our heroine wasn't wearing a thong or the cool gloves, and they were diamonds not crystals, but it was a fantasy series. It's even more stunning in reality…

Yeah, it's not cell phones. I once mis-dialed a friend (back before cell phones) and the guy on the other end started to scream unpleasant things at me. I hung up. He *69 called me back.... Asshats don't need tech to make them asshats.

I found that my relationship with my mom got less difficult when i started reading Captain Awkward. (Note: less difficult *for me.* She's so pissed at me that she can barely speak some days.) It's a long-running advice column by a woman in Chicago and it's very helpful. I just read the whole damned thing, front to…

My sister in law perfectly encapsulated mothering an infant/toddler to me. "You will discover new levels of love that you never thought anyone could achieve. You will also discover new levels of gross that you never thought anyone could achieve."

That would be awesome. I think last time I called them they didn't but that was years ago. I'll call again. Thanks!

Damn. I got all excited but there's no discussion of what to do with stuffed animals. Sigh. You can't donate them to most places for fear of choking or bedbugs and you can't recycle them. Well, unless you find some local conceptual artist who does skinned teddy bear coats or something. But she got overwhelmed after…

I had a bad week, including some really brutal homophobia. Thank you. This made me feel better.

I happen to have an 8 year old and I have to say that who ever did that ranking back then was clearly tipping the scales. It sucked then, too.

Where do you live? You come to Boston and we'll all go together!

OMG the sweaters. The booties. The PAJAMAS. I know greyhounds who have better winter wardrobes than I do. I had to draw the line though when I started knitting — I do not knit for animals. Ever.

I have to think that Cambridge didn't make the cut just because it's a tiny city. But I gotta say, the greyhound folks in my town are HARDCORE. Of course, maybe they didn't rank because they don't buy from Amazon. They buy from high-end specialty boutiques where the special collars are hand stitched by a fellow…

I'm sorry. That sucks. For me, the worst, after my miscarriage, was the arrival six months later of all the crap advertising fertility clinics and tech and tracking. All those pale worried looking women wearing white camisoles staring off into the middle distance with their hands splayed on flat tummies, with pink…