Hi Mika, quick heads up, I know they might have forgotten to tell you this, but you're supposed to be a journalist. Journalists generally at least read the packet that some poor PA put together to tell you who you'll be interviewing. Good journalists also do additional research.

"Let me feel my feelings!" It's now sort of a catchphrase for us.

I'm generally not okay at work, well, at Job1 anyway. Job2, I'm generally having fun and smiling. My resting face, when I'm concentrating or thinking or just spaced out, is this vaguely sad, vaguely angry thing. Although, I did have a bartender ask me why I always give her sadface while I'm waiting for a drink (at…

I'm sorry about your luck. :)

THANKS! I'm actually smiling now, because it's a real goddamned feeling!

This will someday be a PR case study on what not to do, along the lines of Phillip Morris and Exxon. It's a total disaster and I kind of want to teach it.

My mom long ago taught me that telling someone they look "tired", unless you have a reason to believe that they are, is just saying they look old. So I avoid it, unless I know they're hungover or something.

I recently pointed out to a friend of mine how condescending it is when people tell women to smile. Especially strangers. It was like I just flipped a switch for her. Let us feel our fucking feelings, you know?

I've got you beat, not me personally, but one of my writing partners. We blog about True Blood, and he said, and I just copy and pasted this from our blog:

But!

I'm down.

I went to a small, rural high school and there was none of this kind of thing. Sure, I was a bitchy, occasionally awful cheerleader, but my best friend (still to this day) was a bitchy, occasionally awful raver. Everyone mixed, some people were more dickish than others, but none really stood out, we all had a healthy…

Clear eyes, full hearts, can't believe there isn't a proper Texas Forever gif.

I was attributing the racism thing to the south. The potty mouth to the restaurant business. At my day job (Job 1) I find it really fucking hard not to swear all the time and have been said to be fluent in "sailor's French", I'm sure I'll be cursing up a storm this evening at Job 2.

What I find most hard to believe is that an old lady from the South who has worked in kitchens all her life wouldn't be foul-mouthed. I mean, the racism thing is pretty stereotypical for old lady from the South. But the stuff listed in the blooper reel, pretty much par for the course in any restaurant kitchen I've…

Something in a jug, with added fruit flavor. Perhaps a Wild Vines Strawberry White Zin?

And the unfortunate truth is that men who have reached "potato on legs" status, are the only ones in the US with so few fucks to give, that will actually don a speedo. I will never forget the zebra print thong I saw on one such fellow in Wildwood. It was incredible.

I just spent way too long looking for a "Thirty, Flirty and Fabulous!" gif. Good night everyone.

And not one of these assholes will give a shit about that "pain-capable infant" when it is a viable human, which is what boggles my mind more than anything. "We'll do everything we can to keep you alive until you exit your mother's vaginal canal and enter the world, then you're on your own, sucker!" I mean, I know…

I have individual shoe boxes. I actually sent a picture of my boot tower (the tower of boxes containing my maybe 7 or 8 pairs of boots) to a Texan (they know from boots) and asked when it stopped being cute and started being a problem. His response was "Moving day."