Um.

Thank you. It’s been a hard week coming to terms with the finality of it all, but I am trying to remember that all this means is we had a real friendship, warts and all, and that I wasn’t wrong to assume that there would be more time. By every measure, statistically and logically and morally and cosmically, there…

I am the liberal daughter of a liberal gun owner. My father kept his handguns in a locked briefcase in a safe in the attic of our home, with no bullets in the house. If he wanted to shoot, he bought bullets at the range and left them there. It is possible to own guns, to not demonize guns or gun owners, and still…

I met my best friend the first week of our first year of college. She and I were inseperable for the next four years—we couldn’t go anywhere without someone asking us where our other half was. At first I reveled in the novelty of this, as someone who’d always been a bit of a lone wolf; later I chafed. When we moved to…

I wonder about this too. Like, it blows my mind that Elliott Rodger had a sister. How is it possible that someone living in the same home as a teenage girl wouldn’t see that they go through all the same stresses and struggles that boys do? Sure, it looks kind of different in some ways, but I have to assume that’s…

Well, why don’t we start with the gun legislation, thereby making it much, much harder for these people with very complex issues to kill large numbers of people within minutes, and then we can work on solving their other problems?

Except...who asked them to do that? It’s more like if your boss got started on a huge project, and you decided to do a decade’s worth of busywork that you thought would help him with that project, and then he was like “nah, no thanks, I’m good” and then goes on about his project as if you were never intended to be a…

Having ALREADY made detailed plans to DIY my own Sexy Pizza Rat costume, I am slightly annoyed.

Yes but like...does it have a tag in it that says what brand it is? Like most dresses? If it was bought recently it’s probably not that hard to google.

Not as such, but if you have an undiagnosed heart condition, a panic attack can cause an arrythmia (and vice versa) leading to a cardiac event. I’m not a doctor, so that may not be 100% biologically accurate phrasing, but a friend of mine died when we were 13 under that circumstance and that’s how I remember it being…

I doubt she made him, not that she could have. I grew up in a residential building like that, and from the time I was old enough to toddle around, I played with, hugged, and generally palled around with the super and the doormen in our building for my entire childhood. My parents were easygoing and tipped well. These…

This is actually a story my friend wrote for ELLE.com, about her best friend. Kind of shitty that the Post doesn’t mention or link to it at all.

I hope for your sake that they don’t! But I think it’s good to remember that even at fairly small weddings, you don’t spend a ton of time with any one person, and it can be surprisingly easy to avoid people since you have a built in excuse to walk away all night long. Combine that with some relatives they like who are…

Yes, much to my mother’s chagrin. I try not to be a pain in the ass about it, especially if I’m in public, but if the briny/pickled things are easily removable, removed they shall be. Just not my cup of tea.

I think you have 2 options here, since inviting people without their spouses is simply not done.

I hate raw onions, and I pick them off of everything. Ditto olives and pickles. I don’t mean like, the baked-on onion bits off an everything bagel; I don’t have that kind of time. I just reject one of the traditional components of the typical lox-and-bagel arrangement. Generally someone is more than happy to take…

Hahah no I know, I was laughing mostly at myself when I realized that was my immediate reaction. LEAVE ME IN PEACE; YOU HAVE YOUR HUSBAND, AT LEAST LET ME KEEP MY KNIFE.

Young enough to be out at 3am, old enough to get acid reflux from overly greasy pizza #thisis30

Man, you know you’ve left your 20s when you’re way more emotional about the fact that you’re being laughed at by a smug happy married couple than you are about your burger choices, huh?

Man, you know, sometimes it’s 3am and you don’t have a lot of options. My favorite place isn’t greasy, but my favorite place also has a line out the goddamn door some nights. You gotta do what you gotta do, and sometimes you gotta blot.