Aw, man. Permanently applied cultural appropriation?

Um, why is a Rihanna a space Moari? With henna hands?

Yet another awkward PR moment for Nike:

I was done with him after the Janet Mock thing. So smug, so armchair liberal. I can’t cope with him.

Honest to God, I thought Betsey Johnson was Sia. Whoops.

Weirdly enough, I also read this as a potential reference to Jay Z and Solange’s elevator battle. Either way: cringe.

No, but their probably afraid of being put in jail for battery. Or for reporting being hit by a woman.

At my school we had “I believe I can fart.” Yeah...

Lately, I’ve become addicted to this kind of beautiful hogwash. Stunning nature shots, gorgeous people, and vapid as shit voiceovers. So soothing in one sense, so irritating in another. I think it’s like ASMR, but for haters like me. (If this is up your street, watch this Lululemon mess)

I’m still hanging in until this Key and Peele song supplants the original:

Something like this nightmare?

Dexter. Not Michael C. Hall, I mean the serial killer he plays on Showtime. The weirdest part of the dream was the overbearing realization of “This isn’t the actor; it’s the character! How is this possible?” But not why my gay ass is having sex with a man who’s a fictional serial killer.

So many things wrong with this; hard to know where to begin. But here’s something that struck me: Why do we assume yoga is sacred? What we know of as yoga was something heavily fabricated by a Russian woman. If you’re going to be pompous and nitpick, get your facts right.

I cried during Obama’s first inaugration. To make it even more awkward, it was at a viewing party where I didn’t know anyone (study abroad in the Netherlands), and I was the only black person in the room. People noticed me crying and then got mad quiet. I was just like, “Dont’ mind me!” (cringe)

I was co-leading a school trip with kids, when I got an email on my phone letting me know that a friend of mine who passed away was being awarded his PhD posthumously. THAT’S the moment my brain kicked into processing the grief. So awkward.

I hope that if something that shattering happened in my life, I would have the presence of mind to spin it into something positive for others. Wonderful.

I LOVE her book. They need to give it out in high schools. Seriously. If people learned how to identify narcissists at a young age, it would save them so much pain.

More like, “Bye, Flo-ecia!”

Oh, Africa:

Man, that’s gotta be some potent white privilege to do a reverse Obama and actively invite speculation about your birth certificate!