Yeah, I’m right there with you. We knew never to even ask unless we could gauge our mom’s mood. If Dad was out of town, there was no point in even thinking of asking. It would only result in something ugly.

My favorite sacrilegious story from my childhood of Catholic school is that in eighth grade, someone saved a blessed host from Friday mass and put it in one of our teacher’s coffee mugs. The yelling was amazing.

Thanks to this post, I’ve just realized that Billie Piper and Margot Robbie aren’t the same person.

All I can think about is super-old Jez covering an event with a bunch of SATC fangirls and someone called them Scary Sadshaws. Was it Moe?

You can practice modern spirituality for $108 a month. Workshops and retreats are extra.

Ugh, yes. We have a yoga studio in town who offers tarot and astrology workshops along with the white girl woo bullshit yoga that includes crystals and essential oils.

It definitely doesn’t go away. I’m a decade-plus out from my worst disordered eating and still fight my restrictive urges when my weight fluctuates up.

In still photos, Rose Byrne always looks like someone just said something awful to her and she’s on the verge of tears.

I think back on all the protesting we used to do and the conversations about how fucked up the government was under W, and I realize we had no idea how crazy and fucked up it could be. We were so innocent and silly.

There’s a host of amazingly talented non-white women out there who can be leads in anything. Stop making white women the default. It’s old and pathetic.

This always gets me too! If you have something nasty to say, pick up the phone or say it in person. Never put it down in writing, especially email. That shit will come out when you least expect it.

I feel like it’s been popping up at Dior every so often too.

Ugh, yes. My ancestors were banished from Salem for being Quakers - and even were decreed to be sold into slavery. There was no room for religious tolerance or freedom there.

I thought the same thing! I was super excited for half-a-second.

Once in a while I jokingly refer to my husband as Pater Familias, but he’s Daddy to our kid. Friends of ours, who are a historical reenactor hipster and mommy blogger, do use Papa and Mama in their house. It’s very strange.

Where ever else could you even imagine doing it? I certainly don’t want to get rug burn on my first day as President of the United States.

Quite honestly, if my husband or I made it to the office of President, I wouldn’t care whoever saw the show just to cross fucking in the Oval Office off the list.

Four years is so long. I hope that this puts a fire under the ass of everyone with a conscience to flip the balance of power in Congress during the mid-terms. We’ve got to get our shit together now.

My coworkers and I have been rehashing this all day. We’ll emerge out of our offices, teary-eyed after reading more, talk quietly in the hallway, and go back to sit in our offices in silence for a while. It’s just overwhelming to think of the long-term damage to civil rights, the environment, and our basic decency.

So my mom was on to something when she told me not to wear my uniform skirt in the winter without warm tights? She’d look at the other girls braving it and tell me that going bare-legged would just give me fat thighs.