Junior high dance and I was in 7th grade. I went with my best friend and we were kind of bummed because neither of us had dates but we soon realized it was more fun to not have dates because we could dance with more than one boy. So we spent a lot of the night dancing with whomever asked us and, of course, each other.…

First, you needed to understand that in eighth grade the only person more pitiful and universally reviled more than me was my best friend...who I actually didn’t like very much, but she was the only other person in the whole school who would risk talking to me because we were both so horribly bullied by...basically…

Like most people, I was an gangly teen- all pimples and limbs and braces. I had a huge, super nerd-girl crush on someone I’ll call Joe. Joe was a year older than me even though he was in the same grade, and had bit puberty sooner as a consequence, so was more man-than-boy shaped. Ravelston likied.

One look at time on…

I know I already posted one story, but now the memories are surging back to me like a hormonal torrent through the broken damn of my protective subconscious and this is happening.

I was the ONLY friend in my circle who didn’t have a date to prom; which was fine since I had the type of girlfriends who couldn’t give less of a fuck about that sort of thing. We would all dance with each other’s dates and made it more of a communal experience.

I was such an outcast in middle school, but managed to be somewhat normal my 8th grade year. The first dance of the year was happening, and my friends all wanted me to go with them. My mother agreed to drive me and pick me up. I told her that I would meet her in the parking lot at 9pm, and under no circumstances was…

I’ll Debbie Downer this competition real fast.

When I was in 6th grade, a bunch of kids thought it would be funny to pay a guy $5 to dance with me. I was bullied by everyone at that time for being socially awkward so they all thought it was hilarious. On another occasion, a bunch of boys kept following me at a dance and threw ice at me, causing me to retaliate by…

Blackface never meant “having a black face”, anyway. It means, “performing a gross racial caricature of black people”. Is she doing that? No. Is there any indication whatsoever that this was some kind of racist caricature? No. The manufactured outrage is fucking inane. Furthermore, getting het up about irrelevant shit…

Looks like a weird makeup shoot to me where it’s all about artistry or whatever. I’m also white, so I feel like I shouldn’t really have a say in what constitutes black face. I’d like to hear from everyone else though. /confused

Yea... That's straight up silver. Robot face?

I'm white, but that doesn't look like blackface to me...?

It actually looks better than her normal hairstyle. THE JOKE'S ON YOU, PERRY.

… am I the only one that has done this? Without malicious intent its just a trip on the subway but you don’t know where you’re going. Or as me and my hippy dippy friends used to say “letting the universe decide where you’re going”.

Okay, I did almost the EXACT same thing to Keifer Sutherland in NYC one time. And then, I thought the EXACT same thing, ‘What are you doing?’ and I turned around and carried on with my own business. I guess I am creepy too? *shrugs*

Same. I am mostly confused. I mean, certain things come with the territory of being famous, but suddenly having wolf rape-porn written about you* and crowds of underage fans screaming about wanting to have (or make) your babies would be . . . erm . . . difficult to adjust to at best, regardless of gender. If we demand…

You're an exiled Russian dissident fearing for his life after a poisoning attempt by the former KGB? You drive around collecting sacks of cash from the ATMs? Sure, you need a gun (though you may only need a Taser). But the rest of you who prepare actively for the possibility of killing another person? Garbage people…

I went to a strip club with my sister, her boyfriend, and one of his friends once. The friend was sitting in the corner the whole night talking about how he wasn't going to pay for a lapdance "from any of these WHORES!" because he'd already paid cover (like, $20) and they should just do it. He kept getting louder…

this is one I actually used. I was five years old, playing with my cousins at my Babcia's house. She was making dinner and was a terrible cook. When she called us in for dinner, I told her I couldn't eat because I was sick. She asked what was wrong, and I told her it was prostate cancer.

I read my boyfriends diary. To whom he spoke to, in the third person. Like "Hey there diary, things are awesome." Some highlights: