vulcanbookworm
Vulcanbookworm
vulcanbookworm

you are the evidence russia needs.

My husband and I met in college at University of California Santa Cruz and their mascot is the banana slug. We thought it appropriate that our likenesses were slugi-fied on our wedding cake. My husband’s goatee and my classes set off the differences between the two (also my husband is very tall and I rather short and

I had a nurse one time who gave me a 10-minute lecture on the importance of sexual agency. Apparently she was raised Catholic and until she saw a Very Important Episode of Oprah at the age of 32, she felt too guilty to demand satisfaction.

My family enjoys delivering sick burns. It’s how we show love. However, sometimes I do a little burn on strangers if they deserve it. Case in point: I run a library. One day, I was doing a walk-around the building, checking in stairwells and such (we’re a downtown branch, we have a large homeless and transient

I was very badly bullied at school so I gave as good as I got. One dudebro in particular kept harassing me, so I accused him of bedding sheep. Simples. All through high school, nasty sleazy stuff from him, I rejoined with my sheep-fucker insults. They were awesome! We have a very strong repitoire of sheep related

I don’t know if this is better or worse for being at a Renaissance Faire, but here goes!

Several years ago, my husband and I went to an Open House that screamed 1980s. A majority of the rooms were decorated in that violently patterned paisley-and-floral wallpaper that was considered de rigueur at the time. The man of the house was sort of hanging around (annoying the Realtor). He must have said "I didn't

This post needs some cheering up. My grandma (stay with me) has a grand tale of taking a plane ride with her newborn son to visit her parents and getting sat with the coasters (ye olde band, “yakety yak”, “charlie brown”, “other novelty songs”). billy guy (alllegedly) kept chatting her up and making eyes at her

Incredible never-ending embarrassment averted when my date for the Valentine’s Dance in 9th grade ended up being SUCH a bitching dancer. Even the cheerleaders were charmed by him. It was my Dad.

This isn’t embarrassing for me, but more for the rest of the school.

Here in the UK, high school dances and proms are really only becoming a thing now; when I was a kid, it was more the under 18’s nights (“kiddie’s disco”) at the local nightclubs that we had, which were kinda shit-showy as they would take place in the center of town in a nightclub surrounded by all of the other

Like most people, I was an gangly teen- all pimples and limbs and braces. I had a huge, super nerd-girl crush on someone I’ll call Joe. Joe was a year older than me even though he was in the same grade, and had bit puberty sooner as a consequence, so was more man-than-boy shaped. Ravelston likied.

One look at time on

I did my undergraduate work at MIT, where I met SPACEWAR, the famous and very early computer game. That was about 1962. Behold, when I went to the University of Minnesota for my graduate work, pretty soon they got a CDC 3100 computer with a display screen. I made a pair of joysticks (they weren't available

First of all, everybody should cruise over to Pipeline.corante.com and click on the tag for Things i Won't Work With. Chemistry gold.

Worst honest excuse I've ever given. "Sorry, I can't go to the party with you because I can't sit in a chair."

That might have been rhetorical but I'm going to tell you anyways...

this is one I actually used. I was five years old, playing with my cousins at my Babcia's house. She was making dinner and was a terrible cook. When she called us in for dinner, I told her I couldn't eat because I was sick. She asked what was wrong, and I told her it was prostate cancer.

Oh, dear. :( This reminds me of a simply adorable girl I met at a rave a few years back who was sitting under the bleachers, sobbing. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me that the boyfriend she had come with- whose entry ticket to the event and drugs she had paid for- had just left with her best friend. That

Holy crap, my mom used to sing this sometimes when she'd be cleaning the bathroom.