honeycrumpett
honeycrumpett
honeycrumpett

I think the worst I ever saw was an Easter display at my local Vons supermarket. On New Year’s Eve.

All in all, the US is much better about keeping Christmas crap relatively close to the actual holiday itself than the UK is. I once saw a Christmas extravaganza in the window of Jenners in Edinburgh on or about the 21st of August. Thanksgiving is a useful buffer.

My boyfriend did not understand my love of this show until he watched Season 1 of “Marriage Bootcamp: Bridezillas” with me. He was sucked in and then we had to watch alllllll the Bridezillas together. It also led tangentially to his unabashed hate-watching love of “My Big Fat American Gypsy Wedding.” #truluv

WHEN IS THIS HAPPENING????

How have YOU not read Scruples yet? This seems impossible to believe. You really must.

I found today that a guy who was on the very outermost of my periphery in my college years, a guy who dated (I say that loosely) one of my good friends, was arrested recently for planning a mass murder in Austin. Apparently, his nuttiness about endtimes and, well, in general wasn’t a sarcastic thing, he was a true

Ummmm, this is literally in my top three of things to do in the world, but also there needs to be a marathon of Forensic Files or SVU playing in the background. Luckily, it is also in the top three things to do in the world for Mr Crumpett. We are easily pleased (and old, so sex is nice but optional, especially if the

I used to live right near him in Blackheath around 2000-01. One Sunday I was on my way to the pub (I am not always in or on my way to the pub, but in my 20s it certainly seemed like I was) and I saw him emerge from his house, bleary-eyed in a velvety robe, his hair alllllll messy, to take the paper inside. I was

The first job I had out of grad school was at the UK company that produced the original version of this show, Changing Rooms. One night I was at the pub and I caught the latest episode, wherein one of the couples had a meltdown at how fucking UGLY the result was, including portraits of the couple as Nell Gywnn and

I can’t wait to see this. I saw the original in London, when it first came out — I was new to town from a small city in the States, all of 23, completely in love for the first time in my life with a local boy, and I was so young and raw and ready to live. This is a far better artifact of that time in my life than the

We fought hard so that the generation(s) below us never had to wear The Jeans of the Oppressor again, and this is what they give us? I do not miss having jeans with a waistband that touches my ribs. #midrise4eva

Owning a 1720s Grade II listed terraced house that came with a fatberg was a level of professional homeownership I was thoroughly unprepared for. “Modernised” electrics turned out to be from the 1930s and subsidence between the main part of the house and the rear addition which gave us indoor plumbing made it

When I was dating in LA in 2010-11, I found OKCupid was full of this type of moron.

I’m old enough to think “hmmmm, really should listen to that first Kasabian album I listened the fuck out of when I was going through my first divorce a dozen years ago.”

Don’t forget guns. If you don’t know everything there is to know about every conceivable firearm, you don’t get to have an opinion.

The other week I made the mistake of clicking on some rando’s Facebook page after he had posted some blah blah “if only you had accepted Jesus” bullshit on a mutual friend’s page (she is currently going through a whole host of personal problems thoroughly unrelated to religion and completely related to being poor).

Wrong. Legal permanent residents are entitled to social security benefits, albeit with a few restrictions/exceptions (can’t be paid while the LPR is living abroad, SSI available only after accruing 40 quarters of work, for example). While obviously this woman was not a green card holder, it is completely incorrect to

I can’t get over the fact that as my toxic Berniebro Marxist ex-boyfriend ages, the more and more he looks like Manson (sans swastika), and I don’t know what any of this says about me except I’m glad I grew the fuck up.

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