Oh sweet baby Jesus. How did I not know this existed?! I have all of these ingredients on hand and am going to make this TONIGHT. Bless you, internet stranger.

I wish I wrote like that. I’m always self conscious about how I hold a pen because I seriously write like a gah damn cave person also known as the “lateral quadrupod” with a thumb tuck.

He’s so gross on so many levels.

What... are those pants? What year is this? I hope they tear-away.

Hey- they held a prayer meeting and scheduled people in shifts to stand on the beach holding Bibles up to ward away the storm. What more could you possibly ask for?

jinni can chopstick and has been known to write hearts above her “i”s

The author does not know how to do the “she doesn’t know she’s beautiful!” trope right. The protagonist doesn’t sound modest/oblivious, she sounds like a member of the Plastics doing their ritualistic/performative self-criticism in front of the mirror.

I read this excerpt and it made me think I could very easily be a famous YA author. The writing is horrendous, but also, her lack of a thigh gap is her great flaw?

Then you are going to have to incredibly fast in bed.

its both a nod to your taste, and your brevity, i think.

“I got some unobtainium. So, uh, what do we call it now?”

Unobtanium is an actual scientific term used in thought experiments to describe a highly desirable material that is hypothetical, scientifically impossible, extremely rare, costly, or fictional, or has some of these properties in combination.

May I present, this map:

If you like noble savage bullshit then yes.

The “unobtainium” thing drives me batshit for some reason and I refused to like the movie mainly because of that (even though there were also lots of more reasonable excuses not to like it).

Hot take: no one deserves that much money for one show.

remember when ben carson removed brain surgeon from consideration as a basis for intelligence?

I read somewhere that baking was good for your mental health, as was knitting. I should really find this study because they’ve clearly never seen me when my bread refused to rise and I just decided to cry and drink the cooking white wine on my kitchen floor surrounded by spilled flour and dirty dishes.