I turned 11 and got C cups and was pretty skinny. It was traumatizing, upsetting, unpleasant, and generally made grade school fucking awful for me. This was the 90s though. Girls were still gross, regardless of cup size.

Hard yes on him when asked “would you?” as well. Love me my healthy, funny men.

My wedding song was Little Trip to Heaven by Tom Waits, and I recall my then-fiancé and I listening to it and looking up the lyrics before we decided on it, just to make sure it was definitely about love and not, say, being a stalkery perv in a subway.

The hypocrisy with them is fucking palpable. Like I can pick it up and examine it, with my hands and eyes.

He couldn’t negotiate his way out of a fucking paper bag.

If they wanna get really granular with that rhetoric, they can just leave the country, too. Right? Right?

Holy balls I would have gone absolutely insane after three days.

Another thing I don’t get is why they’re so vehemently pro-forced birth, but they don’t want to do anything to help women and families after those babies are born. So women are forced to have babies, and then what— no mat leave? No child care, after school programs, school lunches to help kids? Insurance gets taken…

As a Canadian watching from afar, I still don’t understand why people are bringing religion into this. The US is where people say “separation of church and state”, right? That’s a thing you supposedly have? Am I taking crazy pills?

Like how every time I read “Reince Priebus” I see “Rinsed Penis”!

Or, this.

If Donald fucking Trump wrote a word of that statement I’ll eat my left tit.

See, it’s the opposite where I am; Sears does really well and is always busy for clothes and cosmetics and small home goods - the tool department and major appliance departments are always empty when I go. Although, I live in a big urban area...it would probably be different for a Sears somewhere where farming is a…

HOT BUSINESS PROFESSOR!

I’m still not okay with how GG ended. Fuck Dan. There, I said it!

She is the snuggliest, kissiest pup that ever lived. When she’s really excited, she wiggles so hard that she sometimes falls over or bumps into things. She’s my dog, she lives with my mum, but she loves my husband most. If I say, “Maddy, where’s Joe?” and she doesn’t immediately see him, she whines.

I am the whitest-looking white girl that ever whited: beyond pale, blonde hair, blue eyes, smattering of freckles. I have a Métis mother, and a paler-than-me Irish father (whom I am basically a tiny female version of). My mum embraces her Métis heritage, as do I, but we stopped attending the events up north some years…

This is Maddy, having a snooze.

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