My podunk hometown’s “exotic car dealership” snapped the handle off of my dad’s 75 Porche T-top, krazy-glued it back on and then tried to convince my father that he broke it. Hard to argue with a glue-gummed end of a broken door handle though. He made them pay to have it shipped to the next-closest Porche dealership…

Fuuuuuck I want to hang out with Carey Mulligan and eat pretzels.

I can’t tell if this little town (population: under 800) is boasting racist brass who don’t want to work for a black woman or if these employees are just rankled at the idea of working for someone other than Ramsey, who’s been their boss for probably as long as some people have been working.

Every broadcasting/sports journo class of undergrads has at least one Britt McHenry. The one in my class was also named Britt, interestingly. She also loved to berate low-level employees for doing their shitty jobs.

Don’t worry though: the A-Rods of the world give the Britt McHenry’s of the world their A-list herpes.…

His name was Keyser Soze.

There’s something deeply satisfying in the alarm this kind of reproductive/sexual anarchy causes the BroBible set. This woman is basically an MRA terrorist, and I love her for it.

It was not! Here’s a hint: Tumblr-y erotic photography makes you pretty good in bed.

Meh, he was super nice, bought me dinner and gave me three orgasms. I think it’s only fair to keep this one private.

I banged a semi-famous photographer who, after fucking me for a long time (pretty decent), he said he wanted to “finish.” I’m like, “Cool, I’m good.” Dude goes to the bathroom, gets the mini bottle of conditioner, jerks of onto my pussy, stares at it for a 5-10 seconds, then goes and gets a *warm* towel and wipes me…

Well this was a beautifully concise version of a lot of things I’ve been feeling lately.

AGGGHHHHH I recently lost enough weight to go from “plus” to “regular” sizes for the first time ever as an adult, and it was kind of an awakening. All my clothes have so much structure now, when just a *couple sizes* up, I was being offered horizontal-striped tents. Like, fuck you very much. I felt sexy in my body at…

Fuck Heathrow and also Fuck Madrid’s airport.

I’m a female food writer and I’m not particularly fat, so I’m constantly being asked about my workout routine and “keeping up with calories.”

Holy shit, I'm lower middle class! I'm gonna call my dad!

Best part: one of the people who so adamantly expressed his right to "reward" or "punish" good service offered to sell me insurance less than 2 days later...via FB messenger. Classic.

I'm the editor of the food section of a local paper, and I recently posted a FB status reminding everyone that my state's sub-minimum wage is a little over $2 an hour, and *assumes* a tip to even make it up to the minimum (poverty) wages of $7.35.

I was unprepared for an interview with her and she compared me to a morning radio DJ. Almost hung the fuck up on that bitch. But whatevs, I guess this is fine.

I'm hoping so hard, dude. That's the only cure I need right now.

Everyone take a moment and savor Leto's transformation with me, Jezzies. I was recently dumped by a stupidly hot man-child who styled himself largely after Mr. Leto (devastating in the pants department) and who more or less held Leto as the only man-crush in his life. He more or less modeled his life, look and music…

This shit makes me want to become a very, very violent person. I never thought I'd fantasize about killing people until the GOP trained its crosshairs on women.