Meh. I can still eat (all the best) Girl Scout cookies. You know, the ones with chocolate?

Because sometimes, when you ask them to stop, it provokes them further and sometimes, that can get really scary.

In regards to “dress how you want to be addressed”:

Me too...and also, the whole “I did it by myself” thing.. I’m sure she has talent but her daddy bought a share in a record company that signed her on later, and she comes from three generations of bank presidents...so taylor, you kinda didn’t. I mean, fuck Kanye though. But I’m not here for everybody making her out to…

Kanye is a disaster of a human but I find Taylor Swift annoying. Her convenient feminism that only applies to her when her feelings get hurt and her “protect me” because I’m a little girl thing and that’s why you shouldn’t make fun of her fragile feelings is insufferable.

I found I got an unusual amount of attention when I was in east Asia, but I’m also nearly six feet tall and visibly tattooed. So I think it was mostly that, I’m basically a circus attraction by their standards.

Another reason to dump him would be a belief that a cream can increase the size of a body part.

If my (nonexistent) boyfriend got me a cream to make my ass and my boobs bigger for Valentines Day, I would seriously reconsider the relationship. Nothing says romance like, “Your ass and tits could use a little work, babe.” Is this why I’m single? If so, I’ll keep it that way.

I have gotten so much joy throughout my life over the fact that Americans call bumbags ‘fanny packs’.

Will this never cease to be the truth??

A former girlfriend told the Wisconsin State Journal that O’Kroley had tried to commit suicide in 2014, and that he has been seriously mentally ill for the past decade.

I totally chilled a friendship with a co-worker after she told me about the shit she put her dog through while she was at work. She got this husky puppy as a Christmas present (“’cause they’re SOOO cute!”) and then kept it in a crate all day when she was gone because he was “super destructive.” When the neighbors…

In the interest of balance, I am going to rub a chicken with a paste of butter, garlic and smoked paprika, and roast it. I shall serve it with dumplings, Brussels sprouts, and bacon. And wash it down with wine.

The fact that this bitch gets anything done before her kid wakes up makes me call bullshit.

“[I] start with some Kundalini meditation and a 23-minute breath set—along with a copper cup of silver needle and calendula tea—before my son Rohan wakes.”

I find it delightful that she eats all that ridiculous shit, yet her name is Bacon.

I feel like she’s knitting herself a chrysalis or something. There’s only a bit of her face and hands peeking out and soon just her fingertips and eyes and then a great swooping Diane butterfly/dragon will emerge and eat every bowler hat in the world. Or something.

Thought processes following these things are always such a mixed bag.