Hmm, will have to try it this way. I’m a high-waisted gal, and I’ve tried the front tuck a few times but only managed to look like a frumpy hobo.

The meatiest part of my cheeks is just above my nostrils (and obviously way higher when I smile). I don’t know if that’s normal or not, but it definitely appears high to me if/when I apply blush there.

I guess I’m kind of hitting the upper jawbone? The apples of my cheeks just seem so high up, like they want to horn in on my eyeballs, haha

Oh, he’s not ignoring them. He’s pointedly fucking them.

I’ve started to use a blush stick like this because it’s easier to carry around than a pot and brush: http://www.julep.com/skip-the-brush-blush-stick.html . I just blend with my fingers.

Lifter here (not competitively or anything). Chuck Taylors mothafuckaaaaaaaaa

Dearest Brian, fellow lover of the “bum gun,”

How do you connect with the people you pet-sit for?

MOTHERLOVER I seriously just booked a holiday stay through Hotels.com and completely forgot to check if they were on Ebates. Crapola. But thank you for the reminder so I can use that in the future.

Pouring better is also, frustratingly, tied to how properly pressurized your lines are. That shit can get maddening.

My friend who’s not particularly into football let me drag her along to the USF-UConn game this year in Tampa (shut up, don’t you fucking judge me. I hadn’t seen that football game in six years, it was my birthday, and my husband bitched out on me because he fell ill). She asked what colors she needed to wear, asked…

Fucking hell.

Sous vide it to cook the meat tenderly, then fry it quickly for crispness. Your life will be changed.

Dude, the chub rub is real. I’ve definitely had to scrap a few pairs of shorts that swore they were for running because my thighs absolute devoured the inner shell.

I live in Tampa, one of the deadliest cities out there for both pedestrians and bicyclists. We’ve been trying to add more crosswalks with the bright-ass blinky lights to help, but it’s not been great progress. Some drivers absolutely blast through lit-up crosswalks (or at least want to and honk at me if I’m stopped…

Considering that manufacturers still crank out Hartford Whalers paraphernalia and all of us Northern-born folk will never let The Whale die in our hearts, I’d argue that this extends to championship gear and there are zero statutes of limitation.

I’m still fucking giggling at this. Well done.

I’m definitely one to clean as I go, and by the time any dinner I’ve made is dished out, usually it’s just the final pot/pan and the dishes we’ve eaten off of that my husband would need to clean. We agreed long ago that whoever didn’t cook would be the one to clean up, and I definitely feel like husband has been…

Seriously, feed me all the lengua. And I’ll fight you for pig liver.

“Please note that Smee is a fat old guy with a bare midriff and bad sandals. He’s basically every Tampa resident.”