Ah poo; it doesn’t seem to work for Australia. Prolly for the best though. My campaign to add a dog to the household has met with total resistance from the husband so far (I’m doing better with Plan B - a 3rd cat ... he seems to be weakening there).

Yeah, I was all ‘Who’s Ansel Elgort? Let us consult the The Google re: this Ansel Elgort.’ Having thus discovered who Ansel Elgort was, I sighed and moved on to the next article, figuring someone of some interest or value might be discussed therein.

I hope it was Jason Priestly. For one, he was gorgeous, and another, he is legendarily hung.

Ummigawd, that Miss Major interview is fanTAStic.

It’s moments like this that I wish I cared about her music or career, so I could triumphantly cease to do so.

does this mean we can eat at Chik-Fil-A now?” Sorry sweetie no they’re still bigoted assholes. “Oh. I do like their chicken though. Sigh”

Oh gawd - I’m gonna be in Philly in a week or so (back to dreaded rural peeA to visit family on my way to a real vacation from my current home in Australia). Jim’s on South street for a real cheesesteak sandwich for the first time in thirty years was going to be my first stop - but now I might have to eat here first,…

The first day all this erupted, I tried so hard to think of some mental-illness angle, some weird variant of Munchausen Syndrome, somethingsomething poor dear &c. But within hours it went from surely she’s damaged goods to oh dear nonexistent gawd this is a nuclear trainwreck what else could she possib- no, don’t…

It’s like 20C in Brisbane. I hate the cold!

Homophobic hair stylists? That’s like airline pilots who are scared of heights, isn’t it? Or mathematicians frightened by even numbers? Or misogynistic nuns (no, wait, I’ve met some of those)?

Awww, as a die-hard fan of the original Addams Family show, I think Wednesday as a name has its place. Had she said her parents were eccentric New England proto-Goths living in a gloriously decrepit mansion with her uncle who could light up electric bulbs with his mouth as her father blew up model trains, I’d’ve loved…

Also luckily, anyone who graduated in the 80s (as I did) has another advantage - digitised pics & the crule toobs of the internyets did not yet exist, so my -err, one’s horrific h.s. graduation photos exist only in the dust-covered boxes of m- err, one’s mother far, far away, never to see the light of day ever again.

I’m disappointed bigtime too (I sighed aloud ‘ohhhhh Dr ROOOOOTH’ reading this), but I also hear ‘We’ll remind you that Dr. Ruth is 87 years old’ very loudly too. I have a mother who was, like, the coolest mom (without trying to be ‘the cool mom’) growing up: farmland Klan-filled fundie pennsylvania, and here she was…

Reminds me of a bumper sticker I saw waaay back when I was a teenager - I coveted it then, and I still want it today (when it’s slightly more appropriate): it read Old Age And Treachery Will Always Overcome Youth And Enthusiasm.

‘It was Fred Smith! In the parking lot! With an ICE PICK!’ The geriatric Floridian version of Clue.

I have two cats. I wear glasses. THREAT QUELLED
(plus, neither has ever attempted to lick my eyes; apparently Tonkinese cats have better boundaries)

Ha - yes, s/he does have one of the best user names now that you pointed it out to me (said the poof eternally in the greys).

I’ve had Brussels sprouts that were tasty exactly once (I forget the moment and/or preparation, but I recall having to eat them ‘cause others I needed to behave in front of were there & I was more than pleasantly surprised), so the small logical part of me accepts your assertion. The larger irrational/snap-judgemental…

Heck, my mom has what I call ‘her blackmail photos’ of me (disclosure: male) as a 3-yr-old in that pose. With a towel around my waist (dress). And a towel on my head (wig). Apparently proclaiming, as the photo was taken, that I was Mae West.

To add to all the others, it’s even infected my small corner of Sydney. Ballast Point Park (much prettier than its name, trust me ... anglo colonists & their descendants can’t seem to name things well here in Oz, unless they’re stealing local Indigenous names after slaughtering most of the original inhabitants)…