I’m sorry. In case it makes you feel better, I’m a fat vegan.

So I know I’m being shallow here, but every time I see a photo of her, I want to scrub all the contoured-corpse makeup off her face and just give her some pink lip balm and maybe some clear mascara. And wash and condition her hair and let it air-dry and put it in a nice little ponytail bun on top of her head. And get…

And move her to a high school with mostly non-white kids.

That’s part of the premise of “The Blacklist.” Reddington remembers the names and details of everyone he’s ever done business with, as well as their kids, spouses, maids, chauffeurs, etc.

Jourdan Dunn’s dress has to have that tail; otherwise, her hiney would touch the chair if she sits down.

But it’s also a really funny sentence taken out of context. Like, were they driving in separate cars? Did they plan to arrive at the same time? How did they get to be an hour apart in the first place? Maybe someone got divided in time travel? It’s just so mysterious and brimming with possibility.

Sometimes I wish I could find a veterinarian who would be willing to spay me. She probably wouldn’t even bring up the possibility that I might want to have puppies in the future.

I don’t think it’s the money she’s actually frustrated about. It’s the lack of diagnosis. You pay someone to help you and they take your money but don’t help you.

That photo looks just like me anytime I try to break away from the jeans/t-shirt combo. Any pants that aren’t jeans look just like that on me. I don’t know how other people do it... pants.

It does kind of follow the pattern of bike shorts, doesn’t it? (Do they still call them “bike shorts”?)

Aww. That was me 30 years ago. Even now I can’t watch gymnastics without feeling all squiggly and wanting to get up and go upside-down. When I see a gymnast do a kip or cast-to-handstand, all my ab muscles tighten sympathetically. Even when they’re doing moves I never, ever could do (except in my dreams, in which I…

I think it’s because they’re squeezing all their muscles as tightly as possible. “Stay tight” is a mantra in gymnastics. It’s hard to relax or extend your piggies when the rest of your foot and leg is trying to be as solid as stone. Unless you’re Barbie, of course!

True, but don’t say “blow out” — you just made my ankles cringe and crawl up into my body! Let’s just say “injured”!

It made me laugh when I saw it because it reminded me of my sad attempts to do a (single) full-twisting layout into the pit back in the day. I couldn’t make my body twist at all, so I’d do a layout, and at the last minute, when I saw the mat in the pit, I’d squiggle myself around somehow to land facing forward. My…

Me too! I don’t watch those kinds of things in public, for that reason. However, if this condition of yours gets worse, google “pseudobulbar affect”! Otherwise, welcome to the sniffles&blinking club!

It’s just really really hot where she lives and she spends most of her time holding her hair up off her face and neck because it’s so hot and that’s why she never developed creases under her arms.

I’ve been tuned into animal welfare issues since before the internet was a thing, and once the internet became a vehicle for cat videos around the world, I hoped that some of the world’s most horrifying animal abuses (like this, and the bear bile trade, and ffs why are people still paying to watch bullfighting?!)…

Dope, I just now re-read what I wrote and it sounds like an insult to you and others who follow cooking blogs. Which is not what I meant! To be perfectly honest, my husband does all the cooking and baking, so I can spend all of my free time on more important things like reading Jezebel.

Thirty thousand pounds of bananas:

True! There is actually a banana crisis looming, since we all want just the one strain because it tastes good and ships well, but that strain doesn’t produce seeds and has to be cloned and demand for it has nearly wiped out other banana varieties and all it takes is one virus or fungus to wipe out all bananas…