The last episode was on of the best of the entire series. I have the image of Ilana crying and Oliver moonwalking to "Yas Queen" on permanent repeat in my head. Quite possibly my favorite 30 seconds of TV in years.

But there's not 8 ladies. There are 6. Regardless of color.

And if you're gonna have a man there you can't do a lot better than Paul Downs...

8 are ladies, 2 being ladies of color.

Unless his refractory period is similarly short I still have to question this 500 times business. If he is that shockingly fast she maybe needs to invest in a squirt bottle to keep him off her like I use to keep my cats off the counter.

500 times a day = Kanye definitely does not have a secret boyfriend in Paris, people.

Does she not understand "500" or "sex" (or maybe "day")?

Does anyone else feel these two are interested in having more kids because it "solidifies their brand" ?

I live alone in a rather large, Edwardian flat with 13 foot ceilings. When the bulbs burn out in my ceiling fixtures I will carry around a floor lamp from room to room. I plug it in and do my business and then move on, rather than just change the bulb. I did this once for a month straight before I finally pulled out…

"Masturbate with blocks of cheese..." I am not sure how to read that — is it that you are eating blocks of cheese in the bathroom while masturbating? Or you are using the blocks of cheese to masturbate?

This week my BF was supposed to be out for the evening and changed his plans at the last minute, then he said "what are *we* going to do for dinner?" LOL - "I'm having chips and dip and rum, you can have whatever you like" ;)

Sometimes I like to randomly flop down with my tongue hanging out the side of my mouth and imagine what my chalk outline would look like if I died suddenly while folding the laundry or something.

Occasionally I follow that with slowly curling my fingers up like corpses do during rigor mortis then I quickly check out…

I love ordering so much takeout or delivery for myself that they give me two sets of utensils. That's how I know I won.

I had to think about it, because frankly, I do a lot of weird things. But I did it. I figured out the weirdest one.
Sometimes, when I have to fart, I lay on my back and spread my cheeks apart, because I find it oddly satisfying to have a fart that's just a puff of air.

Hmm... is joke?

I fart with wild abandon and laugh at the noises. I fart as I high kick. I fart while plié-ing. If I'm laying down, I stick my butt high up in the air and fart. I'll fart when I'm far enough into the relationship, but not with the same gusto.

In America we also call that Schadenfreude.

Can I join your gang too? I was always the sluttiest post-breakup slut that ever slutted. A couple times it was even a "two birds in one night" type of situation. (The bird is a penis.)

Fun fact: I only respond to my in-laws via memes now, and the really annoying sister in law (the one who thought she saw Jesus in a melted chocolate bar and who thinks her family is haunted by a ghost who hates Catholics) only ever gets this Chrissy Teigen pic as a response.

Oh, Aaron Carter.