And then, totally out of left-field, Sweet Movie, "Because I like chocolate."

And then, totally out of left-field, Sweet Movie, "Because I like chocolate."

I don't really read Hyperbole and a Half that often, but someone posted Depression Part Two somewhere and I can't think of a more accurate portrayal of the depths of depression anywhere.The part where she's trying to explain to someone that she may be suicidal and just can't understand why they would care is spot on.

I don't know what the original poster is referring to, but I hope you're not suggesting that people should look on Burroughs drunkenly shooting his wife in the face as an understandable blunder. That's a pretty big oopsie. Even being in that situation is evidence of some pretty suspect life choices. I mean, come on,…

You know, I had always hoped that Gaga was working toward a real Bowie Berlin period, but I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed. Somehow it seems to be a combination of her taking her self too seriously, and not seriously enough.

The movie reviewed here is one of the most uncomfortable viewing experiences of my life, and I've seen Salo.

I actually helped someone confirm all those piece counts when they received the book. MARC and AARC2 aren't designed for such strange stuff (at least explicitly), but that's what makes my job fun.

Does Billboard still do that thing where they count double albums as two albums sold? I know they used to do that, and I always found it strange. Whenever I see double albums, like this, at the top I always think: Yeah, but you only sold half as many units.

There's are a lot of problems with those scripts: not only are they going in the wrong direction, but they're not rendering correctly. This is also an issue in the Devanagari.

He'll just be sitting there, ready to take a big angry bite out of the turkey, and then *sploosh*, like Double Dare.

I saw that yesterday. I got through the salutation and the first sentence, "Dear Sinéad, I love you," and, for some reason, just got upset and stopped reading. That's the magic of Amanda Palmer.

That one always scared the hell out of me as a kid. It seems like a bizarre fever dream looking back. I'm not sure if there would be anything particularly frightening about it now, but as a kid it was too close to a nightmare to not be horribly uncomfortable.

This is going to sound insufferably hipster, but I had never heard of "I love it" until I looked it up because of this review. I mean… it's not really as ubiquitous as "Happy Birthday," I guess.

I totally agree with that. The shot where the sister puts it together was unintentionally ridiculous, to me. I kind of felt ripped off, as if the whole movie was dancing around a wacky punchline.

Holy crap is that page annoying; I didn't even realize I was scrolling past the intro initially. Turn it down a few notches, Pitchfork.

I get the impression that she's tremendously aware of the personality that she projects, probably more so than any other current artist. She seems to be very careful about what she says in interviews and how she acts on camera. She might be very nice in person, if you weren't part of the media, or she might never turn…

It ranks up there with the beautiful simplicity of 'Zombie pig eventually forgives' from a Minecraft update a couple years ago.

A more realistic YA novel would be one where the young protagonist assumes that they have some special gift, but spends the majority of the book completely fucking things up by making incredibly ill informed choices.

The concert was promptly sold at the nearest CD Exchange.

Item #4 - Eating is not a race; slow down before you choke.