It’s viscerally embarrassing to read. I suddenly feel ashamed of all the obviously, transparently performative emails I’ve written to smart boys in a desperate bid to get laid.

Wouldn’t read but would read reviews.

They’re idiots.

I thought that was a picture of Roger Ailes genitals?

I had a LOT of fun in my twenties, then had two kids so I guess this represents my vag to crazy, possibly fictitious god sandwich lady.

Pshaw. I only use semen.

Perhaps you meant ‘entomological?’ Etymology is the study of word origins, and The Donald has not really impressed anyone with his language skills to date [besides himself, of course...].

A player has the ball long enough to be the runner when, after he squeezes the potato with his greedclaw and his thundertrunk suctions to the swampy grass, he is capable off warding of a hex from the Field Magi, swallowing the potato outright, gallivanting to the dusky dimension via mirrorpool or fog portal, or filing…

I thought T.I. wrote all her songs?

Bhahaha. We could string together our collective comments on this post into a “book,” I’m certain it will turn out a more amusing + educational read than Ms. Linton’s imaginary memoir.

Sounds remarkably like my experiences in Vietnam!

Every time I’ve read “angel hair” I’ve thought “pasta”.

Zambillion Little Pieces.

If that’s not the mission statement of this very site, I can’t think of a better one.

To quote The Daily Beast from a couple of years ago:

Can’t wait until they sign Dwight Howard and finally build a team to take on the 2010-11 Heat.

Wyh this now, Dwyane?

Sorry! We just like... *like* our best. We only send you whatever we don’t want.