I plan on never reading anything this woman writes on this site or anywhere else again. And until Jezebel owns up to its own censorship, they’re losing my clicks.

I can’t seem to get excited about this. At all.

Because it’s the classic blame the guy not the bitch response. It’s tiresome and boring.

Stop being an apologist for this asshole.

Don't you think they've been paying his way through life, though?

I suspect they are funding this douchebro, though.

Actually, Colin has a different mother. So, maybe blame Rita?

She joins Karen O in my pantheon of badass heroes.

I don’t find this funny at all. Treating this young girl as a sexual commodity to be purchased with livestock is medieval and offensive. I usually have a reasonable sense of humor, but this really rubs me the wrong way.

Oh, those are overtones.

No, I’m quite sure those scenes conveyed the sexism that permeated everything, including being told your own damn diagnosis.

Every single time you travel, by car, train, bus, boat or plane, you are at some level at the mercy of another person whose inner life you don't know. A phobia is just that — an irrational fear — and fear of flying is irrational. There can be scary moments on a flight, but thinking that you're automatically getting on…

The most helpful thing anyone ever told me about turbulence is that it's an air wave; like a wave in the ocean, so that when you hit that bump it's not a prelude to dropping like a stone just like you don't sink at the other end of a wave in the water.

Don't cry. The author of this piece sadly represents how far Jezebel has come from it's early days. The explicit body shaming is shitty.

I like both New Yorkers and Californians and would be just fine with them coming to Chicago, but then, I moved here from NY.

She’s making a category error. This isn’t “choose between two women” election.

and now I want a monkey and a bunch of puppies

Really? Jesus, that's an over the top reaction.

It took me a long time to realize how much calmer my life was when I wasn’t dating. I kept dating the wrong people, and finally figured out the common denominator was me. Dogs and friends and work are plenty for me now.

Isn’t Joan’s son Roger’s son?