I just adopted this kitten a couple hours ago and she is asleep on my shoulder right now, you guys.

Well what’s the alternative? Not putting the onus on rape victims to stop rape? Taking reported rapes seriously? Discouraging rape culture so’s people don’t be all ‘you were asking for it’ when you report a rape? Weed out the occasional assholes in the power structure who will stand in the way of getting justice for…

Yeah, that’s a perfect solution. Everyone knows rape is impossible indoors after 8 pm, and college campuses are notoriously free of rape culture and sexual assaults globally.

YES, YES!! A THOUSAND TIMES YES!

So what’s the men’s curfew?

Since men are doing all the raping, why not have a curfew for men instead?

I had to turn it off this morning after they brought out two stacks of emails: one big stack of emails about Benghazi in 2011 and a smaller one in 2012. And they were like, “How come you didn’t email much about Benghazi in 2012?” and Hillz was like, “Because I was in meetings with the President and Joint Chiefs and…

I think it was Burt or Lindsey who, years ago, interviewed some guy who said he thought “Lean In” was for a very particular type of person. And there was this really great discussion about that on the story.

Touching anyone’s anything without permission is rude. But this rude is extra entitled because the white people are laughing and they don’t even know what they have done. Or they do know and they don’t seem to care.

I never understood people who like touching people’s hair. Especially strangers’ hair. For me, hair is one of those things that I like to look at but I don’t want to touch. I mean, look, no, I don’t want to feel how soft your hair is, thank you. Or braid it either. I find it gross. Yes, I am sure you are a very clean…

Sounds like something one does when they’re high as fuck, not just “gone off a few drinks”.

He could have condensed his entire column down to “I like to play God.”

If I’m paying 31 million buckaroos for my wedding, it must include Idris Elba interrupting the proceedings, declaring his everlasting love for me and marrying me on the spot while David Bowie sings “Life on Mars.” For starters.

This is the correct answer.

Don’t have sex on a plane!

My husband was the one pushing for A Wedding and I gave in because while I had been a bridesmaid roughly 800 times (ok, 6) and was wedding’d out, it didn’t, like, cause me actual pain and or anything. And he was insanely helpful. He’s a designer and has the most amazing eye and was able to get a lot of the decor,…

I don’t work for you

There is no fat ass gene. There are numerous trips to a plastic surgeon to have shit injected into their now famous fat asses.

I just zone out and go back to reading this post because this shit is ludicrous and I can’t take it anymore.

I’ve given up on pretty much all my living-arrangement fantasies outside “the cheapest apartment I can find.”