So reading these comments has now got me wondering, what would be fundamentally worse: zombie apocalypse or the return of the dragons.

The Nancy and Hartigan thing would work so much better as a surrogate father/daughter relationship, hey.

I actually found it a reassuring sign that I'm still sane and haven't hit rock bottom yet, when an acquaintance said directly to me "You're not attractive and I'm not physically attracted to you. But I know I'm ugly too, and the women I'm into won't be interested in me because of that. So one day, if you're willing to…

Yep, the only times I've been catcalled it's been to tell me how ugly I am and how dare I ruin some random guy's day by existing for him to see.

That is horrible. And WTF? I'd have thought the Catholic Church would be all "Well if they're not going in pairs then at least there's less chance of unchaste shenanigans happening". I seriously assumed I'd misread the headline and this was another "She wanted to bring a girl to prom and our school is a homophobic…

Not quite the point of the subject but where is this marvellous place where you can order cheeseburgers to be home delivered? Because I can envisage situations where if I came home wasted and wanted something to eat but (1) hadn't asked the taxi driver to stop somewhere on the way home and was way too pissed to drive…

Good point about concerts and theatre. I don't have many friends anyway, but the ones I do have... so don't share my taste in music and theatre (except for the BFF, who shares my unironic delight in blockbuster mega musicals). I'd have missed out on so many concerts if I hadn't gone alone, and being alone and of less…

"Oh sweet bouncing Buddha this is JESUS".

That's a terrific story. I hope you had a great time.

Oh lord. I'm sorry that happened to you.

On the evening of what was supposed to be my wedding day (he called it off, not me) I went to one of the fanciest restaurants in town and had a full three course meal for one complete with amuse-bouche at the start and a sample plate of those incredibly tiny delicate jewel-like bon-bon thingies served with your coffee…

I make up back stories for people in my head, exactly like Tina Fey and Steve Carrell in the restaurant scene in 'Date Night'. Not out loud, fortunately.

Thank you, that's his name! Moyer only had a tiny part, in the first and last episodes, but when I watched 'True Blood' for ages I was "You look so familiar! Who are you?" until I rewatched 'Ultraviolet' and saw his name in the credits.

Have you seen the British series from the 90s 'Ultraviolet'? (One season, six one-hour episodes, completed story arc and no cliffhanger.) It was about an MI5 type government agency partially funded by the Vatican, who worked in London and covertly fought vampires the way the characters on 'Spooks' covertly fight…

LOL.

If I were one of this woman's patients, and I had talked to her about struggling with close mother-daughter bonds, I know that even though my name hasn't been mentioned I'd feel confused and embarrassed to have read this.

Sometimes I've gone out with all the self-confidence in the world, and then a stranger's shouted "Ugly cunt!" and I've remembered that no matter how highly I think about myself, society may not agree and we don't live in a vacuum and what society thinks does fucking matter.

Part of me wants to say at least if their in their 70s your duties in the sack won't take that long. But then I think about Hugh Hefner and know that's probably not true.

If I wasn't fugly, I might totally consider doing something like this.

The Bridget Jones thing pissed me off no end. The POINT of her weight obsession in the books is that she isn't fat at all, but still obsessively tracks the fluctuations from pound to pound. And then the movies were all "Look how much weight Renee Zellweger bravely put on for the sake of art!" and the director…