I am eagerly awaiting the day when Taylor Swift tells us, in song, that her life is Not Fair. And I will laugh and laugh.

I'm really happy for you, Taylor, and I'ma let you finish, but Lily Allen's 22 is the best 22 of all time. All time.

Yeah, but those countries also have socialized medicine, and gays and women in the army! And a higher standard of living! Dang hippie, commie, peacenik, red lovin' Europeans. *polishes gun, rocks chair on porch* Get of mah lawrn.

To hear my husband, the former Boy Scout, tell it, Boy Scouts is a den of iniquity already. A few homosexuals aren't even going to make a dent in the filth that is an all-pubescent-boys camping trip.

Very interesting! (And obviously also very sad.) Thanks.

Ah. Not just me, then.

I've always thought there must be a strong relationship between restrictive diets and anorexia. They both produce the same righteous high, they involve the same iron-fisted control... The cynic in me also sees the connection between "health" and thinness. ("I was unhealthy, but now I only eat fat-free dried carrot…

And yet I still want that huge, peach fur coat. Why brain? Why?

I have this theory about the classic "unclean male" situation. It's similar to the clothing and makeup thing. Women spend hours on their makeup, hair, and clothes because they'll be judged by how they look. Men, eh, they can just show up to the funeral in their "nice" t-shirt, the one with no stains on the Knicks…

It would certainly make a statement in a room. Someone send a tip to Apartment Therapy!

It's located just above the belly button. We all have one. (I use mine to store tampons and my iPod Mini.) Unless you're abnormal...

I seem to recall that discussion on Kotaku being largely focused on the "authenticity" of the Zelda writer's "vision" being compromised.

What if I want to channel Catherine Parkinson? Smaller shoes, I guess.

These crotches make David Bowie's Goblin King sad.

Vivienne's clothes always look like someone's gone mental with a staple gun and a dress up box. I love crazy Aunt Vivienne with all my heart, and I would pay her to staple me into some Salvation Army bedsheets if I had any money.

They would be great for impromptu games of ye olde dodge balle.

The t-strap shoes look like someone left the cardboard inserts in at the shoe store.

Broomsticks: For the fan of underwhelming crotches.

These are absolutely lovely, and my following sentiment is in no way slagging them off, and is in fact somewhat off topic, but is anyone else a little sad that we don't have a modern day Vermeer?