My bathing suit has a skirt now. Yeah, that's right, a skirt. I'm 24 and have a pleasant relationship with my body. But if I could, I would rock a muumuu on the beach. Nobody needs to see that much of my skin, not unless they're hoping to be blinded.

Yeah, they absolutely did. My housemates and I were oogling that picture earlier. I can see no good reason why they would ever want to whitewash him, but then again, I know nothing about fashion. I bet they were trying to showcase his white heritage through his grandfather.

I can agree with that. His hair seems like it's long more for a pretty-boy statement rather than for stylistic integrity.

Particularly if DanRad (I like this nomenclature—it's new to me) either tans or muscles. Not there is anything wrong with the pasty, scrawny DanRad (seriously, I'm all about that physical type), but he doesn't quite have the gravitas of Tuki Brando, with his glorious aesthetic lineage.

Ugh, agreed. I'll never forget my mortification in high school when I accidentally wore a Canadian tuxedo. The shame haunts me to this day.

Oh, Luke, I love how snarky you are in today's Dirt Bag.

Dear sweet Jesus in Heaven. They're all...stunning.

Oh god, I think my brain just broke. And other parts of my anatomy.

Oh dear god, that is my least favorite book of all time. Holden Caulfield is an insufferable spoiled shithead, basking in waves of misogyny and privilege. I look back at my 18 year old self and am so proud that I wasn't caught up in that pretentious drivel.

But that's the point of the article—it's using the same terminology that Gingrich used as a way of making a point against his assertion.

Dammit, I meant to write scented! Tears taste disgusting. It makes me stop crying because I just want to get away from it.

I know you posted this yesterday, but I just want you to know that I almost spit a large sip of tea all over my keyboard and the only thing that stopped me was the tears that leaked out of my eyes instead. They might have been peppermint flavored tears. Of joy.

Eat at Burger Fuel. And get a Kiwi burger with beets on it. I swear, it's one of the most delicious things (and it's relatively cheap).

It's mesmerizing. I can't stop watching and I have no idea what it is. None. Not a bit. But it makes me happy.

That would be fantastic! Who do we call to do that?

I'm going with you being sarcastic here, which I approve. If not, well ... this is awkward.

I'll be your friend! Although my favorite is and will always be Alanna.

I had so much sad reading this dirt bag (poor Bobbi Kristina), but that little sentence made my day.

Well there's always the joy to be found in that Jermaine Jackson named his son Jermajesty. That's always been my favorite/most cringe-inducing.

My friends and I did the exact same thing. But I had a really bad hangover the next day so I had a nice karmic kick for being disrespectful.