But what does the back of her shirt say?

Let's be real—it's headed that way.

Good point.

LOVED this. Great job, seriously.

Go fuck your self with a rusty knife and catch a flesh eating virus in your rotting orifice.

So say we all.

It's one of my favorite paintings by Yolanda López, A Portrait of the Artist as the Virgen de Guadalupe.

Come at me, bro!

Great, author Thomas Frank just wasted about 300 pages of writing.

Congrats! This is a great comment, and it raises an even more important point:

No, he doesn't, but I'm sure I'll be able to lie my way out of any paternity speculation, too. I'll just start crying and ask him how dare he question our child. Once he sees me all emotional, he'll pat me on the head and try to comfort me because he knows that it's hard to be rational sometimes because I'm a woman.

Oh, I know. That was my attempt at sarcastically mimicking all of the "Oh, shit, I hope this article gets posted on Jezebel those girls are gonna shit themselves!" comments in the threads over there.

Oooh, I think I like that strategy better.

Oh, man, please cross-post this story to Gizmodo. Those guys will have a field day with this.

This research kindly brought to you by your friendly reliable non-asshole nerd scientist.

What’s the Best Way for Women to Trick their Husbands into Buying Them Shoes?

I'm actually surprised the chaperones didn't use Purell. You never seem to see busy-body, judgmental moms without a bottle of that awful hand sanitizer.

It's Standard.

The PalinPlug: "Oh, I can see a prostate from my house!"