No one's romanticizing it. Read better.

My bacon loving, hockey and lax playing, weight lifting, studying to become a heavy equipment mechanic, 6' tall and built like a brick shithouse, baby brother is addicted to pumpkin spice latté. Its like he's on a mission to masculinize it.

National discourse on bacon: Haha, bacon is the best! So manly, my dudebro! Bacon cake! Bacon donuts! Bacon bandaids!

My English teacher wouldn't let us say shut up, but because we were reading Hawthorne, we were allowed to use, "prithee peace!" as a substitute. I still occasionally yell prithee peace at people.

Almost anyone indeed. #bitter

Me too. Provided "help they need" is code for the leads in a remake of Perfect Strangers.

I know. I can't even with that shit. Count me sorely disappointed when I got to that bit while listening to him on Spotify.

I dated a guy that played the shopping cart in a pretentious and misogynistic experimental noise band. A shopping cart.

So brave. Skinnybrave, even.

This apparently came from the use of yams, or air potatoes, in a tea or other ingested preparation, as a form of contraceptive used by native peoples in the Americas. At some point, it got twisted into inserting a potato into the vagina to prevent or terminate a pregnancy. It is done in the film "The Milk of Sorrows"…

The one thing I've learned after 4 kids is to never spend more than 20 bucks on a toy. The excitement always wears off within a month. But what do you expect with creatures who eat crayons and spend half their time trying to take their clothes off?

Can you and that other MRA troll go jerk off together somewhere else? I'm trying to read about people from a reality tv show that is somehow infinitely more interesting than you both.

they could call it Orange is the New Jersey.

Okay, I'll stop. But seriously, I could do this all day.