Similarly obsessed with extracting my own tonsil stones. I bought a little set of tools off Amazon so I can do it more effectively. Always give 'em a few days to build up (big ones are more satisfying!) and I always have to sniff them before throwing them away (they're just so stinky). I recognize that this is very…

This shit, from a kids' videogame called Putt-Putt Travels through Time, gave me Baby's First Existential Crisis. Eternity is a lot to swallow as a 4-year-old!

Yeah there’s a fair amount of comedic gore in that one — including several impalings, too, if I recall correctly.

I met the man I’d later marry in an unofficial fencing club in college. Problem was, he made zero (0) impression on me at the time and it wasn’t til much, much later that Mr. Vulcanbookworm informed me that was actually our first meeting and I had to admit I didn’t remember him at all.

To the now-dismissed gray who responded to this with “You a tranny?”:

Further evidence that TERFs are just right-wingers in disguise... And God, the idiocy in self-proclaimed feminists joining forces with one of the most proudly patriarchal groups out there is really astounding. Goes to show they’re not really about lifting women up, they just want to keep everyone else down at whatever…

This is comment of the year for me. Cry-laughing at my desk.

I’ll do you one better: lemon zest + a splash of vanilla + blueberries. (Also, rather than adding plain milk to the mix, put some lemon juice from that lemon in there and let it sit 10-15 minutes for basically instant buttermilk.) It’s the spring-est pancake I can imagine and oh-so-good.

Could I use something like apple cider (plus a bit of maple syrup) instead of straight syrup?

We don’t have ‘em a mere 90 minutes away in Fulton, though I’ll make sure to try them next time I’m in St. Louis!

Further down the sidetrack... One of my male friends once said to Mr. Vulcanbookworm, very sincere and concerned, "Sometimes it kinda feels nice when I poop. Does that mean I'm gay?"

On a grubby, beige-ish couch on my now-husband’s incredibly shitty first apartment. (And on its ancient rust-colored carpet.) The whole place was nasty: mold in the bathroom, a stink in the sink. The place was the cheapest apartment in a small college town.

On Tumblr (I know, I know), I follow a handful of young queer folks who live on farming communes. (I also frequently hear young people wishing they and their friends could start small farms or communes together — the desire’s still out there!) They tend to be populated by people who knew each other already, rather…

Everything about CPCs makes me furious. One of them started sending a bus equipped with an ultrasound machine and pregnancy tests to my town, so I wrote an article for the local paper about it — making it clear that they can’t offer actual affordable medical services and will refuse to refer you to places like Planned…

I’m fed right up with this shit. Am getting a hormonal IUD placed next month, and my husband’s getting a vasectomy. It’s as much to keep politicians out of my uterus as it is to repel hypothetical oopsie-babies.

As a child, I loved planning things. I’d dream up improbable — but meticulously scheduled — outings for myself and my friends, written out in barely legible handwriting on printer paper. (Yes, I was a weird kid.) One example I still recall was taking a pull-along wagon loaded with snacks and puzzles to a local nature…

My husband and I accidentally synchronized our morning poops today. I was grateful we have two bathrooms. 

honestly I agree! I’ve occasionally posted risque pictures of myself on social media for the sole reason that I enjoy some occasional horny attention. No one’s pressuring me to do so; I’m not trying to make money or build a brand; I just dig it when people are like “damn, girl!” And I’ve had friends do boudoir…

My brother and I weren’t raised believing in Santa Claus, but my dad still thought it would be funny one year to hide all our presents and put ziploc baggies of actual coal in our stockings.

My little sister had a taste for the ghoulish as a tot — I’d tell her gory stories about man-eating giants and haunted woods and she’d beg for more. So I was forced to get creative. Eventually, I invented a new monster: The Generic.