I don’t know why I’m shocked that people who have devoted their lives to quality children’s TV (as opposed to merch driven cartoons) are genuinely loving, caring people. I mean, obviously, right? But stories about Mr Rogers and now this just hit me in the feels.

Tina Fey = goddess of modern femininity.

Gwar founding member Dave Brockie died just last year from a heroin overdose. I imagine substance abuse is a painful topic for the band right now.

Well, it’s a pretty awesome city that I’d need to drive to. A destination type place. Hipsterish and touristy and weirdly authentic all at once. And I’ve got friends who live there. So maybe there’s no excuse to not do it ;)

Long story short, these feelings were among the many that kept me from having one for as long as I did. A lot of factors convinced me that my apprehensions were misplaced (among them the bullshit body positivity movement that just insisted that pregnancy doesn’t damage your body and my own feminist views when mother…

I’ve been wanting to see a Deva stylist but there aren’t any in my city. The closest I can find is about two and half hours away which, in all honesty, I’m just about willing to drive for a decent hair cut for once.

While I am fully aware that it is societal pressure and internalized misogyny that makes me feel this way - I hate my mombod. It’s something I am ashamed of. The extra skin, the fat thighs, my stretched out disgusting tits. I hate it. When people compliment me on “getting my figure back already!!” I am aghast that…

I haven’t been able to find one in my shitty city yet. I’m honestly about to start driving to a better city about two hours from mine.

I think I’m just not doing it right? I have no idea how to salon.

I’ll try that next time!

I’m not particularly attached to my hair. I used to get drunk and trim it myself on a regular basis. I dyed it purple for shits and giggles. I let a friend buzz it all off with a beard trimmer just because. But going to a salon is so anxiety-inducing to me.

QUESTION:

Side note to that story: what is it with men criticizing your tastes in book or music when they hit on you? Is it negging? Is it mansplaining? Is it just dumbasses being dumbasses? I can’t imagine a scenario where a stranger could insult my book (or whatever) and I would immediately beg him for the d. Just no.

I’m so sorry. PTSD is a monster. I’ve got many friends who live with it.

I warned my husband early on in our relationship that startling me would result in a reflex hit. It’s apparently just how I’m wired. Someone sneaks up on me or grabs me unexpectedly, I hit them. I don’t go to haunted houses anymore because, without fail, one of the actors will always, always grab me and I will hit…

The last time some asshole tried to hit on me by asking what book I was reading, I happened to be reading Pixu: The Mark of Evil a graphic horror novel (which is, by the way, not worth the price and kind of meh all around). I just turned the current page I was reading toward him so he could see the awful, gory images…

Yeah, same. My “craziest” one involved crying through my entire shift at my shitty retail job the next day but insisting that I was, “Fine. Just fine. Allergies. No big.”

I thought for some reason that it was a CGI/live action hybrid. I LOVED The Lorax as a kid so I didn’t want to see them Mike Myers it, kwim?

Boris Karloff with a song by Tony the Tiger. EVERYTHING ELSE IS HERESY.

Never saw it as a kid but I suppose it gets a pass.