What helps is having supportive parents. I've been married before, and my mom is very much in favour of me doing what I want in my own time. My parents adore my sweetie, and are 100% behind us forging our own path.

My beloved and I, while not married, live very happily apart in the same city and see each other only at weekends, generally. It works for us for many of the reasons cited in the article, not least of which is that our together time is focused on the "us-ness" of us, not who didn't take out the garbage or clean the…

Bacon is the universe's way of saying, "I love you."

I treat musicians like Pokemon and am in the process of catching them all.

I fucking LOVE my Remington clampless iron with the pearl ceramic coating and the adjustable temperature and a compass in the stock* and this thing that tells time**. I look like a fucking shortass glamazon every time I use it, even when that's just for going to Ralphs for some cheap wine.

It's a nickname from an old flame.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

How do you get your cat to like wearing capes? I NEED TO KNOW.

I was given the opportunity to join the deb-track back in the late 80s, since it was something that about half my female peers still chose to do. I mean, we'd all been sort of in training for it for years, what with formal dancing as one of our PE units twice (TWICE!) a year. Even poor little nobodies like me were…

I now have a male roommate. It's awesome. He and I love to hang out with each other, but he always gives me lots of room when I want it. Low drama, maximum drinking buddy.

Oh, you lived with her too? Good times.

Probably some beer that's trying to pass itself off as a microbrew but is mass-produced. I'll be continuing work on my shawl and making a frittata for when His Nibs makes it over to the Westside. I'm rather delighted with how well his second student film turned out (and it's set to a song from his old band):

I love Julie Klausner. After listening to her dissect "The Omen" for a solid hour on her podcast, I became an unabashed fan.

I am bringing a tray of cupcakes from Ralphs to the former Mr. Crumpett (2nd edition) in payment for hooking up a replacement car stereo in my Volvo. Ralphs cupcakes are fucking GORGEOUS and you get 12 for $6 right now with your Clubcard.

A couple of years ago I had neighbours across the alley who were into BDSM. I swear he flogged her on occasion with such force that MY bottom hurt.

I have had this dream many times, except usually it's high school and not Sterling Cooper where I show up in my slutty nightgown, toting a Mai Tai.

Holy. Cannoli. And mine is a wine hangover too. Da fuq. But that Kroger lemon-lime seltzer has truly magical powers to restore me, all Lazarus-like and shit. I keep a case in my trunk for all manner of emergencies.

Freaky! I just did exactly the same thing on the way in to work. Three cans of lemon-lime Kroger brand seltzah always helps. For lunch I will probably have pho. When I lived in the UK, and had a much harder-drinking lifestyle, I started a hungover morning with a big bottle of San Pellegrino and a chicken Pot Noodle,…

Ooh child, you're fine. It's the ones who make it their raison d'être.

When I read "jorts" I think "jarts," and that makes me very confused since I thought those were banned ages ago.