Your fucking insurance probably doesn’t fucking cover it, because they’re all, “You’re already a filthy whore by your age, so you’re all virused up by now anyway.”

I legit wonder if he killed Mommy.

It’s actually not all bad. BEAR WITH ME, HERE.

First thought. That tree tackle is a thing of beauty.

While she seems like a lovely, gifted person, I will never not be confused by the time I saw her use her acrylic nails as musical instruments on Jay Leno. I can’t find a good clip online, unfortunately, but it was so weird that even Leno was all, “Are you playing . . . your hands?”

I grew up with Christmas traditions that, in retrospect, were bizarre - did anyone else wear an actual headdress of flaming candles because the youngest girl roleplayed as Santa Lucia? And I still think the Elf on the Shelf thing is really, really weird.

I saw an early preview of the first Independence Day, as a teenager, at a Star Trek conference. The speakers on the stage included Brent Spiner and Jeff Goldblum, and I thought I was going to die of sheer excitement. (I did not.)

Have you ever seen the Babylon 5 comic book series? It only lasted a year, but it was really pretty great.

My mother would not allow me to own a Barbie. (Feministy reasons.) All of the terrible hair things I did to toys were, as a result, done to animals. I dyed Care Bear hair green with toothpaste and gave them buzz cuts.

Your parents are jerks. DS9 is wonderful and, if my junior high school fantasies bear any weight, I will end up married to Garak and we will have insane and beautiful Cardassian tailor babies together.

C’mon, man. He’s evil. I mean, I laughed when he tore that woman apart because he needed to open a door, because it was so over-the-top evil.

A friend of mine used to be pro-life until his wife started miscarrying at six months. She was given all the options, though told that labor, a C-section, and an abortion would likely all have the same outcome for her dying fetus. She opted for an abortion - even though it wasn’t medically necessary - and my friend…

Infinitely less awkward than the game of Cards Against Humanity I ended up playing after this past Thanksgiving, during which “seppuku” and “bukkake” both had to be defined.

I can kind of see it. I just had a night out with a bunch of people that included a guy with an Indian heritage, I asked him where he was from. “Connecticut,” he says, which is the answer I was after.

I had a student write a paper all about how affirmative action was bad, because it put non-white people into positions where they would inevitably fail. I was so pissed off, because:

Oh, my god. I was (and am) a horrible person to go shopping with for clothes, because I hate it so very much.

I’m certified to teach English as a foreign language and, I have to say, I think I’m a pretty good teacher.

I know. It took me a while to say, “Wait, is she . . . riding a horse . . . made of people?”

I got home with a fucking DREAMBOAT from the department holiday party. I literally have no idea why he agreed to come home with me. I am in the territory of the ugly bi woman you’ll do if you’re curious about whether I have sex toys. He was the perfect liberal crush: whip-smart, attractive in a Jeff Goldblum way,…

Here’s a real story: