...I’m not saying I went to Churchill, but when people ask me to describe my high school experience I just say “Remember the scene in Mean Girls where they go to Regina’s house? That, times 400.”

No, I get it. Though by the 2000s even the less-fancy parts of Potomac were still pretty damn wealthy, compared to the rest of America.

Yeah, I grew up actually IN Potomac, and even the Very Rich Part is not as Very Rich as you’d expect— the housing development Mike Tyson bought in (which I will not name, but yep, that’s where I lived) does have some monster mansions, but most of them were actually built later in its development. When my family moved…

Yep, I grew up in Potomac, and every time I drive out River Road to my parents’ house it seems like there’s another monstrous faux chateau going up on the stretch between Bradley and Falls.

I mean, the Mount Rushmore For Racists being shitty, unimpressive and poorly-thought-out is not really surprising, when you think about it.

My youngest sister goes to a large state school in the South, and she belongs to a historically Jewish sorority. Apparently she’s heard members of other sororities criticizing hers because they’re ‘exclusionary.’

This is SUPER weird and amazing. This building is a restaurant now— I eat there all the time!

She ought to go to Dead Horse Bay, in Brooklyn. In addition to lots and lots of hundred-year-old glass, she can find chunks of genuine horse bone!

I just called the nearest women’s shelter to me and asked if they could use a donation. They could, so when I go to Costco next week I’m gonna pick up a couple extra giant boxes— honestly, I think getting pads by the 90-pack has made the membership worth it all by itself.

According to my parents, they discovered I could read when I asked for gum on a car trip and they told me there wasn’t any. “We could get some at the pharmacy,” I said. What pharmacy? “The sign says pharmacy,” I told them, pointing. I was three. They got me the gum.

I was expecting stylish yet affordable boots, at least.

I think that’s certainly one factor, but I suspect that another major difference between the Potter kids and other child actors is that, while they grew up on set, they grew up on set with other kids. Child actors (hell, children in general) who are isolated from normal children and normal childhood experiences often…

Really hoping this is the work of her childhood sweetheart, a shy piemaker with the strange ability to wake the dead with a single touch.

My junior high summer camp bully grew up to be the naked dating reality show lawsuit lady. Which is honestly just so, so satisfying, and makes me feel really good about all the life choices I’ve made since I was 14.

I want to see that last gold lamé number on a red carpet, paired with the glam-est, Old Hollywood-est hair and makeup possible. On some actress with a bombshell figure— America Ferrera, maybe, or Hayley Atwell.

I also almost bought this (ca. 1895, and it had a skirt to match):

From a vintage shop in Richmond with a secret stash of antique clothing that’s too delicate to go out on the shop floor. It’s late bustle era, trimmed in bright yellow silk crepe, and entirely too tiny for an adult human to wear, and I do not care in the slightest.

Try not to run out and buy any expensive, useless ballgowns made of gauze.

Oh jesus, a Ghibli version of Derkholm would be AMAZING.

ok but you guys aren’t seeing the big picture here. Think about what happened the last time Gwen Stefani went through a major breakup: the best breakup album of the 90s, and easily one of the top ten breakup albums ever made. And that was just her shitty bassist boyfriend, not her HUSBAND of MANY YEARS.