I’m going to my college class - male professor - and working on my design business (nobody else would care if I skipped both, but I’m the one who would be hurt), so I don’t expect to experience much of the strike outside the home. Inside, Mr. Unfollowed offered to make Wednesday dinner and do half of this week’s…

Very very true. I’ve struggled with eating disorders for 30 years, first bulimia but then BED, long before it was identified. If I confessed to doctors/psychiatrists/friends that I binged on absurd quantities of food that I didn’t even like, shamefully and hidden, I either got “omg I know, I can’t put down the chips…

Yes! Damn, that was great.

Mr. Unfollowed and I saw this yesterday afternoon at a theater in the Detroit ‘burbs; I think we were 2 of 3 glaringly white people in the full audience and it was fantastic. The Iyanla line got a burst of spontaneous applause that I’m guessing didn’t happen in majority-white audiences, and oh, the joy of the cop car…

Go see live music, fellow oldsters!! Pretty please? I’m 46, certifiably old. Have seen 6 of these acts live, could hum music by about 15, would probably recognize a few more if I heard them. Thing is, when I drag Mr. Unfollowed to concerts, we’re usually among the oldest people there (except the performers, now and…

I’m so sick of this being the go-to haircut on “The Expanse”, too. Ugh.

Combine them!

If I had Janelle Monáe’s suit, I think I’d wear it every damn day. And night. And to bed.

I answered the survey last week, using one of my burner email accounts and a nearby affluent zip code. In the past 3 days, someone has tried to hack that account’s Gmail, Facebook, and even Google Play. The IP is showing as Tripoli, Libya, but anyone could be routing through there.

So much yes. It’s driving some of my friends (and Mr. Unfollowed) bonkers, but I’m delighted to see that surrealism and dark humor can be found in droves now.

Today in my ceramics class, I was inspired by Kellyanne Conway and Rene Magritte. It’s still wet, but it will be a flower pot — in structure (drain holes and tray) and design (a pot with a flower!) — yet I plan to finish it with a metallic luster glaze unsuitable for planting something inside. A flower pot that looks…

My Cheeto-supporting relatives have been passing around bullshit images saying things like, “All those signs say ‘Refugees are welcome here’. What about ‘Homeless vets are welcome here’? Or ‘Teenage mothers are welcome here’? Why should we let them in if we don’t even take care of our own?” You can’t point out that…

Hush, you! I consider my lactose tolerance a superpower, along with my lack of reaction to poison ivy. I can swig milkshakes while rolling in skin irritating plants, which... um... is great because... er.... Fuck. It all falls apart rather quickly.

I’m jealous! I was an exchange student in Spain in 1986, and one of my fondest memories is of watching “El gran heroe americano” during siesta each afternoon. I’d already seen the episodes, which led to my host family having a completely inaccurate estimate of my comprehension.

They do indeed. A cage and giving his wife the key would be an option. Of course, if I were his wife (and for some reason was still with this rapist), I’d immediately flush the key down a public restroom toilet.

Congressman Dave Trott has been dodging the Indivisible group and others, who now call him Chicken Trott. Today’s visit included at least one member in a chicken costume (from what I could see in the video), and they left his door papered in “While You Were Out” notes. Spineless scumbag.

Not defending Melania, but doesn’t this sound like the work of one of her husband’s financial henchmen? The moldy Cheeto seems to be working every possible angle to klepto the fuck out of his kleptocracy, and when Melania wasn’t paying off, someone had to take the blame.

I reheated pancakes from the weekend, which I’m washing down with a diet ginger ale. Preach.

Mid-40s, cancer took the reproductive bits, but I think I’d claim ignorance of my (annoyingly strong) domestic skills just to get away from the Ofs completely. “Me? I can make fried ice, but that’s about it. Sew? What, are you out of duct tape?? Gimme my nuclear waste shovel!”

No, I think it’s a choice. They stopped carrying Donald Trump’s shitty line a long time ago, but they still have Ivanka’s tackyass shoes: