Unfortunately, no. The programs that exist aren’t anywhere near adequate, and often aren’t based in reality. A friend of mine got a $75 dollar/month raise at work, and her family’s food benefits dropped by $100/month. Another factor that prevents kids from being fed is that many families make “too much” to qualify…

“Where did that $75 go? Is it going to cigarettes? Is it going to alcohol? We don’t know. That’s right, we don’t know that,” he said.”

I think it’s not so much if this happens, but when.

This is magnificent.

Given the 11 recent deaths on Everest, and the stories pouring out about long lines of climbers having no choice but to step over bodies as they press on, Mandy Moore’s Eddie Bauer sponcon seems ill timed. You’d think that the brand would want to distance itself from being associated with alpine tragedy.

Now that a few of my cousin’s kids are entering their teen years, I’m having so much fun. I especially enjoy using slightly outdated slang because they react as if I used a racial descriptor from the 1950's. ‘OMG it’s 2019, nobody says YOLO anymore.’

I admit with no shame whatsoever that I am part of the problem. As appalled as I am at this parade of ridiculousness, I am here for all of it. Rich people fights, even the ones that are obviously manufactured, are just so goddamn delightful.

I keep thinking this. Then I become baffled as to why I am incredulous about a dumb thing becoming a Big Story when that’s a huge portion of what the internet has always been. Although, snake-oil-vitamin betrayal drama is especially asinine.

I could maybe do it the red way if I had one of those two-hook bras. Mine all have 4 hooks, and lining up each hook with the correct row of loops would happen maybe 30% of the time if I did it by feel.

My first cabbage patch was the only one left on the shelf at the store, probably because she was a black doll in an extremely white suburb of my city. She was one of the preemies with a little tuft of hair on an otherwise bald head, so I basically won the cabbage patch lottery. Both kids and adults made comments about…

She woke me up at 11:45, 3:30, and 5:30. She’s really more of a fan of psychological torture as revenge, so I’m at least physically safe.

That is a Very Good Catloaf.

Just FYI, Janelle Monae identifies as pansexual. IIRC Kristin Stewart identifies as bisexual. For those of us who are bi, this kind of bi erasure is hurtful because it reinforces the “ bi people are gay people in denial” trope.

Now that’s just a lazy casting decision!

I just want to know who will play Macaulay Culkin. I’m hoping that Shonda just might be bold enough for gender blind casting because Lindsay Lohan would be perfect.

Nah, chairs are so yesterday. Get with the times! Now it’s all about those portable camping hammocks you can set up between two trees at the park. The ones that basically enclose you so nobody knows you’re fucking in there.*

When I’m in the midst of a commute, I actively work on disassociating from that which is is going on around me in order to make the MBTA at rush hour mildly bearable. It’s possible I might tune out both her and the camera crew because I’ve cognitively retreated into whatever audiobook I’m listening to. I’m pretty sure…

My love of baseball comes from my mom as well. She raised me to love the Twins with everything in me. My dad grew up a Yankees fan, yet barely mentioned them, or baseball, to me at all. I came to love the Red Sox after moving to New England 15 years ago, and only then did he start talking about the Yankees. Sorry dad,…

Fuck. How do people allow themselves to descend this far into hipsterdom? I am currently drinking cold brew I made in a mason jar. With almond milk. Still, I make my cold brew with Folgers because THERE HAS TO BE BALANCE GODDAMMIT!

She might have more of a point of Louis CK’s ‘apology’ wasn’t a steaming pile of bullshit that showed he was just sorry he got outed as a predator. If he had instead said nothing beyond, ‘I did horrible things. I am going to step away from the public and get a shit load of therapy to discover what’s broken in me then…