Those questions drive me crazy. It’s like, “Explain to me how people of color are different from white people. And by the way, you can’t get mad I’m asking a stupid question because that’s being hostile.”

You’re welcome and YOU NEED TO.

And I sat through Left Behind. Granted, I was super baked, and loved every ridiculous second

When my teenaged boys were babies, back in the early days of Internet Complaining (1997—2003), things were different. What changed between now and then was not an increase in germs or a bend in the physical boundaries of airplanes, but a rise in the paranoia around flying and the increasingly infuriating experience…

You gotta reveal your info.

My good friend is a stylist in NYC. She’s worked with Frankel twice. I went with the second time. She was horrid to absolutely everyone around her. She referred to us as plebeians all day long. She screamed at various service workers. She was a fucking nightmare and to this day, we are both incredibly proud that we…

From personal experience?! Go on...

I met Teresa at a food show and she is AWFUL. Doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together and couldn’t make conversation. Juicy was kinda fun. I was wasted and he got a little handsy. He definitely cheats on her.

I've only watched one episode this season and it happened to be this one. It was AWFUL.

I can tell you from personal experience, she is a flat-out asshole. She’s not funny, clever or straight-shooting. She’s an asshole of epic proportions. And the fact that Bravo is finally editing her to show some of it? I consider it a bit of victory.

She is completely unlikeable after watching her mistake a guy for a waiter/coat check because he was black and dressed nicely.

Dorinda is already on my short list for worst housewife in all the franchises. She's a blob of candle wax that dripped onto a shag rug.

... I would love to eavesdrop on Dorinda and Big Ange on a Sephora trip. Just for the voices.

That is not a human head, that is Christmas ham with a face carved into it.

Great. Now I want a ham and mayo sandwich on pumpernickel bread.

I teared up and cried a bit. My husband, however, ugly-sobbed his way through it. It was amazing.

It’s not a major coincidence that the people most likely to criticize Emma and Anon above are often huge fans of Ayn Rand and cannot begin to imagine why a person might sacrifice their own comfort in service of unnamed others.

Each of those guys is in a position to just write a check for that amount, without embarrassing and drawing attention to themselves.

It’s a metaphor for Mitt Romney’s whole life: it's been set up in his favor from day one, and yet he still doesn't do much with it.

fuck evander holyfield for agreeing to do this.