I honestly cannot fathom how you can stop having periods for nine months and carry a live baby that kicks and squirms and sometimes has the hiccups in your belly and not know you’re pregnant. Honestly, cannot. Never mind how heavy you are, you MUST know that isn’t gas.

My boyfriends says I’m a ton of fun when drunk. I’m sure I am. I just love everything and everyone when I’ve had a couple drinks.

Same. I got tipsy at a christening recently (out of sheer boredom because my boyfriend couldn’t attend and I had to go solo) and it was a struggle not to let on. I’m an otherwise very congenial drunk. A Holly Golightly, more than a Mary Poppins.

I’ve been a grey on all Gawker sites except for Jezebel (and Kitchenette and Millihelen) for literally years. I’ve given up.

She’s a most wondrous creature, even up close.

Which also goes a long way towards explaining why he got away with it for so long. He was clever about it, in his own way. Kept his turf clean.

She’s probably apologizing to the whole world for letting her son grow up to be a complete idiot who hasn’t ever heard of battery packs.

Great job! My mum used to make collars for me when I was little (in the Mesozoic), but this is really a completely different level of skill.

So sad. I mean, I understand it to a certain degree, but it’s still disappointing.

Has anyone confronted the rest of The Runaways about it, particularly Joan Jett and Lita Ford, who are its most prominent members now? Not so much about their behaviour at the time, because distasteful as it was, they were pretty much in the same boat as Fuchs. Later, though, they must’ve thought back on it. I wonder…

I predict a distinct lack of “These women are in it for the money and the free publicity” in the comments.

He gets off on it. He knew he could get away with it. There’s your answer.

I’m a tall size 8 and not skinny. I guess it depends on your definition of “skinny”?

I follow football (sorry, it’ll never be soccer to me) because it’s our national sport and that goal was fucking INSANE. Insane.

* Take this with an entire shaker of salt. After all, “Italian authorities” are the same people responsible for this horseshit.

I drive my boyfriend crazy with anxiety whenever we fly together. I insist on leaving at least 30 minutes earlier than he thinks is appropriate or convenient.

This has got to be the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, and very likely to beat “Blades of Glory” as the film that made me laugh louder in my life. I know. Don’t tell me. I’ll see myself out.

It’s amazing! (And you know, we won’t give up. I long to see better days for the LGBTQ community in my country. Every day is two steps forward, one step back.)